3 = 1 2 = 7 — 1 ^- 6 = : C" 1 1 I THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES The Library St. Edmund's CoUej WARE. Acita pro fide. nA^ \^m^:^w ^^t^e^N^ %vM , V . \ • Vgvv v\oXvj\^ v*v^^ ^>vo^c^ Sifc«>%dc5>>.. \95^o .^ ON NATURE AND GRACE. Book I. IpjjibsiDj^^inxl Introbuction. Br / WILLIAM GEORGE WARD, D.Ph. LATE LECTURER IN DOGJIATIC THEOLOGY, AT ST. EDMUND'S SEMINARY, HERTS. p-intcti for |9rtfantc (firculntion. 1859. V I' A/C. g ^ t< CLASS /i)»T- Um/>r^ \ CK. ■. \ CK. LONDON : rrintfia In- G. Barclay, Castle St. Leicester Sq. «^ fi^ W21^^ PREFACE. I AM hoping, if God enables me, to publish a theological treatise, on ' Nature and Grace ; ' founded on part of my course at St. Edmund's. The general subjects, to be included in this trea- tise, will be sufficiently understood by a pro- spectus of the Contents. Book I. Philosophical Introduction. Book II. Theological Prolegomena. Book III. On Human Action. Book IV. On Divine Grace. Book V. On God's Providence and Predes- tination. Having now concluded the First Book, I have thought it well at once to have it printed, and to circulate privately a limited number of copies. One principal reason for my doing this, has been the following : — No one can be surprised, that I feel most deeply the anxious and momentous character of the work which I have undertaken, and the great IV PREFACE. danger of falling into serious mistakes in its ac- complishment. I greatly desire therefore, as I proceed, to obtain the judgment of any theo- logical friends, who may be kind enough to take the trouble of perusing it. Such criticisms as I receive, will be at all events most useful as guides in the future volumes ; as shewing me deficiencies which require to be filled up, and awkward- nesses, whether of style, expression, or arrange- ment, on which I may hope to improve. But it is abundantly possible of course, that I may be also shewn such serious faults, as may induce me to cancel whole sheets, or even re-write the whole. I should have felt such anxiety as I have de- scribed, in undertaking any theological treatise. But surely there is no part of Theology, on which it is so easy to fall into serious mistakes, — in which it is so difficult to preserve faithfully the true mean, — as in that, with which my succeeding volumes are to be occupied. Let one important instance of this be considered, as a sample of several. On the one hand there is the dano:er. lest theological doctrine should be so repre- sented, as unduly to alarm those, who sincerely desire and pray for their own sanctification, but who are conscious of indefinite Aveakness and in- consistency. On the other hand there is the danger, lest any thing should be even accident- ally stated, which might confirm in their blind and presumptuous confidence those most mis- guided men, who have no practical fear in regard TREFACE. V to their eternal lot, while yet they are making no efforts at all to discover their latent faults ; to remove their affections from objects of this earth ; to measure worldly events by the Divine standard ; to grow in personal love of their God and Saviour. One hardly knows, which of these two extremes is the more mischievous and dangerous ; and it is most difficult, consistently to avoid giving some countenance to one or to the other. Such being my dread of the task before me, I might well have shrunk from attempting it. And certainly indeed I should have so shrunk, had not circumstances of various kinds led me strongly to think, that it is a work which God desires at my hands. In this opinion I have been confirmed, by more than one clerical friend, thoroughly conversant with the state of the case, and on whose judgment I have the greatest reliance. This belief indeed could afford me no kind of defence, for not taking all reasonable pains to ensure correctness. But if I do take such pains, then surely it is a belief of comforting and encou- raging tendency. I may reasonably in that case indulge the humble hope, that a work, thus un- dertaken, may receive God's guidance during its progress, and His blessing as to its results. That my intention, in attempting it, is on the whole pure, I really believe. Well am I aware of the various unworthy motives, which escape one's notice even when most powerfully influential. But I can truly say, that so far as by examina- VI PREFACE. tion I am able to discover, my main desire in the matter, is to do that which God wishes of me, and to promote His Glory (if indeed I were enabled to promote it) in the sanctification and salvation of souls. It will be readily understood then, how truly grateful I shall be for any suggestions, in regard to the future conduct of the work ; and still more, for any masses or prayers, which kind friends may be disposed to offer in its behalf. I have retained the form of Lectures through- out, and have addressed my various remarks to an imaginary audience of pupils. One chief reason for this, has been my desire of thereby rendering my style less dull and heavy than it naturally is. The same desire has led me, in various places, to be much more frequent in the use of Italics, than is (I fear) really conducive to the very purpose at which I aimed. I beg my readers particularly to observe the Appendix to Chapter I., printed at the end of the volume. The propositions, for which I argue in the First Chapter, cannot be understood as I mean them, except by being taken in connection with what I have said in the Appendix. Nortliwood Park, Cowes, Rosary Sunday, Oct. 2, 1859. TABLE OF CONTENTS TO BOOK I. CHAPTER I. ON THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. Section I. On Intuitions and the Piindple of Certitude. PAGE L Judgments of Experience and Judgments of Intuition, . 5 2. Judgments of unconscious Inference. .... 7 3. The principle of Philosophical Scepticism stated. . . 9 4. The sceptic's answer, to the various arguments brought against him. ....... ib, 5. Consistently to hold sceptical opinions, is physically im- possible. . . . . . • • • .12 6. Principle of Certitude. . . . . . . .14 7. Two propositions already established, in regard to this principle. ........ ib. 8. This principle has been partially and inconsistently denied, though it cannot by physical possibility be denied consistently. ........ ib. 9. Fundamental importance of laying down some test of legitimate intuitions. . . . • . .18 10. Two explanatory and qualifying statements on this. . 19 11. F. BufRers tests of legitimate intuitions. ... 22 12. A thesis may be most fully founded on reason, yet not on reasoning. ........ 23 13. On necessary truths. ....... 24 14. Concluding remarks on the Section. .... 27 Vlll CONTENTS . Section II. On the Idea of Moral Obligation. 15. A moral judgment formed on a very simple case of con- science. ......... 16. This moral judgment is intuitive and not inferential. 17. This moral judgment is a /er7«VzV?iannciple of certitude. 8. It may plausibly then be objected, 'if all men ' thus by absolute necessity hold this principle, where ' is the importance of thus laboriously presenting and * illustrating it?' I reply, that although no human being can co?isistently question it, many philosophers have questioned or denied it partially and inconsistently. And as the first instance of my statement, strangely enough I can cite one among the most eminent and most sober English philosophers of the present day — Mr. Mansel. ON INTUITIONS AND THE miNCIPLE OF CERTITUDE. 15 Take for instance the following passage from his " Prolegomena Logica :" — "It may he indeed, that the conditions of possible thought correspond to conditions of possible being; that what is to us in- conceivable is in itself non-existent. But of this, from the nature of the case, it is impossible to have any evidence. If man as a thinker is subject to necessary laws, he cannot examine the absolute validity of the laws themselves, except by assuming the whole question at issue ; for such examination must itself be conducted in subordination to the same conditions. Whatever weakness, therefore, there may be in the object of criticism, the same must necessarily affect the critical process itself " We may indeed believe, and ought to believe, that the powers which our Creator has bestowed upon us are not given as the instru- ments of deception. We may believe, and ought to believe, that, intellectually no less than morally, the present life is a state of discipline and preparation for another ; and that the portion of knowledge which our limited faculties are permitted to attain to here, may indeed, in the eyes of a higher Intelligence, be but partial truth, but cannot be absolute falsehood. But in believing thus, we desert the evidence of Reason to rest on that of Faith ; and of the principles on which Reason itself depends it is obviously impossible to have any other guarantee. " But such a faith, however well founded, has but a regulative and practical, not a speculative, application. It bids us rest content within the limits which have been assigned to us : it cannot enable us to overleap them, or to exalt to a more absolute character the conclusions obtained by finite thinkers concerning finite objects of thought For the same condition, which dis- qualifies us from criticising the laws of thought, must also deprive us of the power of ascertaining how much of the results of those laws is true in itself, and how much is relative and dependent upon the particular bodily or mental constitution of man during the present life.''* Mr. Mansel, in this passage, seems to make the three following statements. 1. Reason by itself can never give us the faintest means even of guessing, whether any of our intuitive judgments are true or false. 2. There is however an informant, wholly distinct from and independent of Reason, which we call Faith. * The italics are not Mr. Mansel's. 16 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 3. This tells us, not indeed that any of our intuitive judgments are more than partially true, but that they cannot be absolutely and totally false. Various propositions are implied in the above statements, which every Catholic philosopher must reco2;nise as serious errors. It would lead us how- ever too far to attack in detail those propositions ; but I will make one remark, in accordance with the ob- servations I have already put forth. I will apply then the above statements to the case of memory. Mr. Mansel remembers distinctly at this moment, that a minute or so ago he was sitting at his desk where he is at present. His philosophy leads him however to hold that, unless he lived under a Divine Revelation, he could not guess ever so faintly whether he were in fact a minute ago so seated at his desk ; or whether on the other hand he were occupied e. g. in constructing the Pyramids or visiting the man in the moon.* Since however he does enjoy the light of divine revelation, he knows, not indeed for certain that he was at his desk a minute ago, but that this belief of his cannot be absohitely and totally false. I would ask Mr. Mansel, w^ith most sincere respect and witli great admiration of his many high philosophical * " line autre consequence egalement juste" (from that doctrine of scep- ticism which the author is ojjposing), "est que nous n'avons aucunc certitude evidente de ce quhier il nous arriva on ne nous arrivapas ; et meme si nous existions on si nous n'existions pas. Je crois bien etre evidemment certain qu'hier j'etais au monde ; mais c'est uu jiigement qui peut se tromwr sujet a erreur, selon les philosopkes dont nous parlons. Car, scion eux, je ne puis avoir d'evidence que par une perception intime qui est toujours actuelle ; or, actuellement, j'ai bien la perception du souvenir de ce qui m'arriva hier ; mais ce souvenir n'cst qu'une perception intime de ce que^ je pense presentement, c'est-a-dire d'une pensee actueUe, laquelle n'est pas la meme chose que ce qui se passa hier et qui n'est plus aujourd'hui. Par la meme raison, je serai encore moins certain si je ne suis par en ce monde dcpuis deux ou trois mille ans, et si je n'ai point anime le corps d'un crocodile ou d'un moineau. II est tres-evident que je n'en ai aucune memoire ; mais tout cela s'cst pu faire, sans queje nCen souvienne actuelle- ment; corame il arrive effectivement que chacun de nous est demeure plusicurs mois dans le scin de sa mere, sans en avoir conserve le moindre souvenir. Ce manque de memoire n'est done pas une certitude evidente, contre ce (ju'on voudrait supposer de Tancienncte de mon existence, et des situations differentes ou je me serais trouve dans le systeme de la metempsychose." — l^.uflRer, (J^uvren Phihsnphiques, chap. iii. s. 20. ON INTUITIONS AND THE PRINCIPLE OF CERTITUDE. 17 gifts — whether in this shape he could himself accept his own theory ? It is commonly considered that Kant, whose disciple Mr. Mansel would to some extent profess himself to be, advocates the same sceptical notion, I have every reason, from authority, to believe that he does so ; but I cannot claim any such acquaintance with his works, as would enable me to answer the question confidently from my own knowledge. I w^ill take my second instance from a school of philosophy the most opposed to Mr. Mansel — the so- called philosophy of experience: a school of which perhaps Mr. Stuart Mill may be cited as the worthiest English representative. These philosophers claim as their special characteristic, that they build wholly upon experience ; 'and this,' they proceed to say, 'is the only ' sure basis of philosophy : for once abandon the solid ' ground of experience, each man will at every turn ' mistake his own personal fancies and prepossessions ' for absolute truth.' I would ask of these philosophers, do they mean by * experience' the experience of the present moment, or do they include past experience also ? If they say the former, I reply it is obviously false that they do in any sense build their philosophy wholly or chiefly on experience. But if they answer (as they most certainly will) that they do include past experience as Avell as present, then again I deny their allegation, that they build their philosophy wholly on experience ; and I proceed thus to argue against them on behalf of my denial. You make use of your own past experience — you make use of other men's experience — as part of the foundation on which you build. How can you even guess what your past experience has been ? By trusting your memory. But how do you prove that your memory can be trusted ? So far from this being provable by past experience, it must be assumed and taken for granted^ before you can have any cognizance whatever of your past experience. C 18 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. Moreover, from tliese facts of past and present ex- perience, you deduce argumentative conclusions. In so doing, you assume the validity of the reasoning process. It cannot be even superficially or plausibly maintained, that this proposition is derivable from experience. At all events then you are compelled to assume two propositions — and those of the most vital import- ance — on no ground of experience whatever ; viz. that (1) your memory, and (2) also your reasoning faculty, may legitimately be trusted. In making these two tremendous assumptions, why are you not also exposed to that danger, which you would fain represent as exclusively besetting your opponents — the danger of mistaking your own personal fancies and ideas for absolute truth ? You will reply perhaps, that you assume no more than all mankind necessarily assume. I will give one only of the many replies which might be made to that statement — and I answer thus. You assume these two propositions, before you know or can so much as guess that any other man living assumes them ; for it is only by means of their assumption, that it is possible to know, or even so much as to guess, what other men's opinions are. You cannot then rescue yourselves from the common lot of humanity ; you can establish no dif- ference of principle between yourselves and other philosophers ; you, no less than they, must take certain intuitive judgments for granted. The difference is in no sense of prhiciple, but wholly and solely of detail and of degree; viz. what is the number of those legiti- mate intuitions, or what the test of their legitimacy, which are the necessary foundation of all human know- ledge. 9. This then brings us to the next matter which we have to consider. The principle of certitude is, as we have seen, the one key to any knowledge worthy of the name. But so soon as the philosophical edifice has been unlocked and entered, then the question which first meets us on the threshold concerns this very matter wliich we have just mentioned, tlie test of legiti- ON INTUITIONS AND THE PRINCirLE OF CERTITUDE. 1 9 mate iniuitions. All reasoning of course must be built upon premisses ; and there must therefore of necessity be a certain number of primary premisses, which are known to us not by reasoning but by intuition. The whole of our knowledge is obtained, and can be ob- tained, by no other process, than combining and building upon such primary premisses. If then this be so, how vitally important is the task of distinguishing true intuitions from false ! For once suppose our foundation to be erroneous, then in proportion as we reason the more consistently, the more accurately, the more frankly and energetically, so much the more widely mistaken, and in all probability so much the more mischievous, will our conclusions become. This all- important preliminary inquiry, — the mode of distin- guishing true intuitions from false, — has met (I cannot but think) with very far less attention from philo- sophers than was its due. The intellect, as Father Tapparelli incidentally remarks, has two main functions ; the intuitive and ratiocinative :* but the former has surely been very far less methodically and system- atically treated than the latter. 10. Here however, in order to prevent very pro- bable misconception, I must make two explanatory and qualifying statements. (1.) I am very far indeed from meaning to imply, that no one can form a legitimate intuition, unless he be himself prepared with some philosophical test to establish its legitimacy. Far indeed otherwise. The parallel case of inferential judgments will here pre- cisely illustrate what I mean to convey. There is no more common phenomenon in the world than the following. A man of great natural shrewdness but uncultivated intellect, displays the greatest acuteness in deciding, what means will or will not be conducive to some end which he has greatly at heart. His reasoning will be most sound from first to last ; yet not only he will be quite unable to give * ''La faculta intellettiva, nelle diie fwnzioni cCiMuito e raziocinio," &€• — Natural Diritto, n. 32. 20 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. any philosophical test of its validity, hut even so nuicli as to state the various premisses on which he proceeds. Now who will be so wild as to maintain, that this man has really no valid ground for his conclusions ? that he is taking them up accidentally and at random, and is as likely to be wrong as to be right? No : we shall all recognise, that he is using that power of reasoning, which is one of the highest faculties implanted in his nature, and using it most healthily and legitimately ; nor shall we under ordinary circumstances have any wish at all, that he should draw out with any greater accuracy the process through which his mind has travelled. Yet on the other hand, if we had to do with a man of totally inaccurate mind, who is leading himself or others into serious mischief by his bad reasoning, we should act otherwise ; we should aim at persuading him to state methodically his various premisses, in order that he may see how ludicrously inadequate they are to his conclusions. And lastly, in the case of philosophical and systematic writers, of them we do most reasonably expect, not merely that they argue correctly, but that they put before us their premisses in sufficient detail ; and not only so, but be prepared also to vindicate the validity of those reasonings which they have built thereon. The case of intuitions is in every respect similar to this. There are multitudes of men who elicit legi- timate intuitions, who would be wholly unable to state any philosophical test which shall establish that legiti- macy: yet it would be monstrous to say that such intuitions may not most reasonably be trusted. Again there are multitudes of men (other men or the same) who mistake this or that prejudice of their own for a legitimate intuition ; and in such instances it is most suitable to urge upon their notice, on philosophical grounds, the spuriousness of such a conviction ; the fact of its being utterly destitute of all pretension to be accounted true and genuine. Lastly, we may most fairly call upon those who profess to write scientifically and to instruct us in philosophy, that they lay down ON INTUITIONS AND THE PRINCIPLE OF CERTITUDE. 21 some plain and intelligible method, whereby we may distinguish these true primary premisses from spurious counterfeits ; and that they estaljlish moreover to our satisfaction the reasonableness and sufficiency of that method. (2.) Now for my second explanatory statement. There are certain intuitions, so intermingled (if I may so express myself) with the very first springs of thought — such indispensable prerequisites to every intellectual act worthy the name, — that it is simply impossible to apply directly and methodically any test of their legitimacy. Impossible for this reason, that in order to apply any test imaginable, soine intellectual act must be elicited ; which act implies, in the very process of eliciting it, that those particular intuitions are genuine. Instances of such intuitions will be those already mentioned ; our various intuitions of memory and of reasoning. But then it is these very intuitions, in regard to which each one of us has the strongest possible guarantee for their truth ; viz. the fact that it is not less than physically impossible (see n. 5) to doubt them for one moment. Again, even as to these most fundamental intuitions, a certain subsequent and negative test of their genuine- ness may be directly and methodically applied. It is imagifiable, that my to-daj's memory of the events which passed last Sunday, shall be contradictory to my yes- terday's memory of those same events ; so that by the fact of trusting my memory, I am led into endless con- tradiction and confusion. It is imaginable again, that the same premisses, if combined in one order, would lead to one conclusion ; if in another, to another and a contradictory conclusion : so that by the fact of trust- ing my reasoning faculty I am brought into endless contradiction and confusion. I need not say that nothing of the sort takes place ; but that on the con- trary, the deepest harmony exists between those various propositions, which my memory and my reasoning fa- culty combine to establish. Here then is a subsequent and a negative test, yet one of a somewhat cogent 22 PHILOSOPniCAL INTRODUCTION. description, that those two fundamental classes of intuition are genuine. 11. Having so far exj3laiued my meaning, I return to my former remark. Philosophers in general have laboured far less, it seems to me, than they ought to have laboured, at the all - important task of providing us v^^ith tests, wdiereby genuine intuitions may be dis- tinguished from spurious. F. Buffier indeed, the vi^ell- known Jesuit metaphysician, has applied himself to this work, and deserves no slight praise for seeing its importance and fundamentality ; yet no one, I think, can regard his treatment of the question as very subtle or profound. The tests which he suggests are these three : — (1.) That the judgments, alleged to be first truths, be so clear, that when one undertakes either to prove or to oppose them, one can only do so by the help of propositions, which are manifestly neither clearer nor more certain. (2.) That they be so universally received among men in every time and place, and by every sort of character, that those who oppose them find themselves, in comparison to the rest of mankind, not more than one in a hundred or even in a thousand. (3.) That they be so strongly impressed on our minds, that we conform our conduct to them, notwith- standing the refinements of those who imagine con- trar}^ opinions ; which latter class indeed act, not in conformity with their opinions thus imagined, but with those first truths which are universally received. * * " Le premier de ces caracteres est qu'elles soieut si claires, que quancl on entrepreud de les prouver ou de les attaquer, on ne le puisse faire, que par des propositions qui manifestcment ne sout ni plus claires ni plus certaines ; " D'etre si uiiiverscllement i-c^ucs parmi les hommes en tout temps, en tons lieux, ct par toutes sortcs d'esprits, que ceux qui les attaquent se trouvent, dans le genre humain, Ctre manifestement moins d'un contre cent, ou meuie contre mille ; " D'etre si fortemeut imprimucs dans nous, que nous y conformions notre conduit, malgre les raffiuements de ceux qui imagincnt des opinions contraires, et (|ui cux-mcmcs agissent conformemcnt, non a leurs opinions imaginecs, rnais aux premieres vcrites universollemcnt re9ues." — Buffier, chap. vii. p. 22. ON INTUITIONS AND THE PKINCirLE OF CERTITUDE. 23 Wliilc adiiuttiii"' that I cannot be satisfied with these three criteria as at all adequate to the occasion, it must not be supposed that I profess in any way to improve upon them. But I would venture to solicit the serious attention of philosophers to the question; as I must tliink that no edifice of metaphysical science can be considered stable and trustworthy, where the security of its very foundation has been so greatly neglected. Until the question of intuitions has been systematically and fully considered, I must tliink it truer to affirm that most copious and valuable mate- rials for metaphysical science have been brought to- gether, than to affirm that that science itself has been definitively called into existence. For my own part I can only say that, without attempting any general solution of the question, at all events I will not allege any one intuition as legitimate, until I have brought together so many grounds for my statement, as will (1 think) satisfy every reflecting man. 12. We have already seen quite enough, to guard us against falling into a fallacy, which need only be stated to be exposed. It happens sometimes, that when we claim intuition in belialf of some important pro- position, certain unphilosophical men, who claim to be specially philosophical, regard that claim itself as a confession of argumentative weakness. When we say plainly that we can advance no chain of syllogisms in behalf of our thesis, they regard this as tantamount with a confession, that we do not allege reason in its behalf at all ; that we cling to it, and admit ourselves to do so, on grounds of fancy, feeling and prepossession, in defiance of reason. But after the various consider- ations which have occupied us in this Section, it is not necessary to do more than state very briefly the fol- lowing most obvious truth. We are guiding ourselves fully as much by reason when we hold confidently legitimate intuitions, as when we proceed further to draw inferences from those intuitions. Nay it may be said in one sense, that we go inore by reason in the 24 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. former case than in the latter; so far as in every case premisses may be said (see postea, Chap. IV.) to pos- sess higher certainty, than the conclusions which they tend to establish. When men thus thoughtlessly call for m-gument in each particular case, they forget that all argument must depend on certain primary pre- misses which are not based on argument (see n. 9). If then nothing is reasonable except that for which argument is produceable, those primary premisses are not reasonable ; hence neither are the conclusions based on them reasonable; and hence again, no knowledge of any kind is possible at all. If indeed no more is meant by such statements, than that we should be very careful what intuitions we claim as legitimate — that this must not be left to each man's private fancy, but must proceed on certain fixed and cognizable principles — then no more is meant, than what I not merely admit but have most earnestly maintained. But many men really seem to think (most extravagant as the proposition must appear when for- mally stated) that all intuitions, from the very nature of the case, are and must be the mere offspring of fancy, prejudice, or caprice. 13. Of truths thus legitimately intued, some are intued as necessarily true^ others not so. When, e. g. I intue by memory that five minutes ago I was seated at this table, I am intuing no necessary truth whatever. But when I intue that a rectilineal figure of three sides has three angles, the truth is necessary, and is legi- timately intued as such. As no Catholic philosopher (I believe) has doubted the existence of necessary truths, and as my direct purpose is not philosophical disquisi- tion, we need not say much in explanation of this term ' necessary.' Anything, I suppose, is necessarily true, when its truth arises from nothing whatever external to itself; when its trutli arises simply from what is contained in tlie sulyect and in tlie predicate of that proposition which expresses it. Thus the verity, now intued by me, that I was seated five minutes ago at this table, resulted from the external circumstance that my ON INTUITIONS AND THE rillNCirLE OF CERTITUDE. 25 will then gave my body the requisite command. But the verity, now intued by me, that every three-sided rectilineal figure has three angles, arises simply from the intrinsic connexion which exists between a three- sided and a tlu'ce-angied rectilineal figure. The truth of this latter verity, I say, does not result, nor is intued by me as resulting, from any external circumstance, as for instance from a Creator commanding that such figures should have such a property ; but is intued as wholly in- trinsic to the objects themselves whereof we are judging * * There lias been a small school of non-Catholic philosophers, who have denied the existence of necessary truth altogether, professing that all our knowledge is derived from experience. There has been no greater writer among these than Mr. Stuart Mill, whom I have mentioned in n. 8 ; and I should be very sorry if I appeared insensible to his rare candour and love of truth. But in his treatment of this very subject he has singularly exemplified the old proverb, " Naturam expellas," &c. In the very act of strenuously denying that mathematical axioms have any character of necessity, he has quite unawares allowed the admission to slip in, that the validity of the reasoning process is a necessary truth. He cannot so contend against the clearest intuitions of his intellect as consistently to deny this ; though I need hardly say that its admission is fatal to his whole theory. I observed this myself when first reading his " System of Logic," and I drew attention to it in a review of that work, which I wrote for the " British Critic" many years ago. Since that time Mr. Spencer has hit the same blot ; and has exposed indeed Mr. Mill's inconsistency, much more power- fully and clearly than I had been able to do. It will be worth while here to quote his remarks : — " But the inconsistency into which Mr. ]\Iill has thus fallen, is most clearly seen in the second of his two chapters on ' demonstration and necessary truths.' He admits, in this, the validity of proof by a reductio ad ahsurdmn. Now what is a reductio ad absurdum unless a reduction to inconceivableness 1 And why, if inconceivableness be in other cases an insufficient ground for rejecting a proposition as impossible, is it a suffi- cient ground in this case ? '•' Again, calling in question the necessity commonly ascribed to the deductive sciences, he says : — " ' The results of these sciences are indeed necessary, in the sense of 'necessarily following from certain first jDrinciples, called axioms and * definitions ; of being certainly true, if these axioms and definitions are so. ' But their claim to the character of necessity in any sense beyond this ' . . . . must depend on the previous establishment of such a claim in ' favour of the definitions and axioms themselves.' — Chapter vi. " Or, as he previously expresses the same view : — " ' The only sense in which necessity can be ascribed to the conclusions ' of any scientific investigation, is that of necessarily following from some ' assumption which, by the conditions of the inquiry, is not to be * questioned.' — Chapter v. " Here, and throughout the whole of his argument, j\Ir. Mill assumes that there is something more certain in a demonstration, than in anything 26 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. This leads the way to a very well-known philoso- phical discussion. We believ^e of course most firmly, and believe as a truth which reason by itself can establish, that there exists an All-holy Almighty God, Infinite in every Perfection. Here then a difficulty presents itself; for this Omnipotent God seems limited in power, by the existence of necessary truths. ' It is certain ' that God cannot create a rectilineal figure of three ' sides, which has more than three angles ; or again * whose three angles, taken together, amount to either else ; some necessary truth in the steps of our reasoning, which is not possessed by the axioms they start from. How can this assumption be justified ? In each successive syllogism, the dependence of the conclusion upon its premisses is a truth of which we have no other proof than the inconceivability of the negation. Unless our perception of logical ttuth is d priori, which Mr. Mill will not contend, it too, like our perceptions of mathematical truth, has been gained from experience. In the one case, as in the other, we have simply an induction, with which no fact has, to our knowledge, ever conflicted. And if this be an insufficient warrant for asserting the necessity of the one order of truth, it is an insufficient warrant for asserting the necessity of the other. " How complete is the parallelism may indeed be best proved from Mr. Mill's own admissions. In an earlier chapter he has endeavoured to shew that by analysis of the syllogism we arrive at ' a fundamental prin- ' ciple, or rather two principles, strikingly resembling the axioms of math e- ' matics. The first, which is the principle of affirmative syllogisms, is, that ' things which coexist with the same thing, coexist with one another. ' The second is the principle of negative syllogisms, and is to this effect : ' that a thing which coexists with another thing, with which other a third ' thing does not coexist, is not coexistent with that third thing.' Elsewhere, if I remember rightly, he points out the remarkable analogy between this logical axiom — things which coexist with the same thing, coexist with one another — and the mathematical axiom — things which are equal to the same thing are equal to one another. Analogous however as they are, and similai'ly derived as they must be, Mr. Mill claims for the first a necessity which he denies to the last. When, as above, he asserts that the deductive sciences are not necessary, save ' in the sense of necessarily ' foUoicing from certain first principles called axioms and definitions ; of ' being certainly true if those axioms and definitions are so' — he assumes that, whilst the mathematical axioms possess only hypothetical truth, this logical axiom involved in every step of the demonstration possesses absolute truth — that whilst the inconceivability of its negation is an imperfect guarantee for the one, it is a perfect guarantee for the other. Evidently this is an untenable position. Unless it can bo shewn that this truth — things which coexist with the same thing coexist with each other — has some higher wari'ant than the inconceivability of its negation (which can- not be shewn), it nuist be admitted that axioms and demonstrations stand on the same footing ; that if necessity be denied to the one, it must be denied to the other, and, in(lee's,OQ\Qi\t a Dieu manifestement un principe exterieur * coeternel, qu'il a du suivre necessairement dans la determination * des qualites essentielles et distinctives de cliaque chose. D'ailleurs * on convient generalement, que Dieu a cree I'liomme, comme tout * le reste du monde, avec une Volonte souverainement libre ; d'ou * il s'ensuit, qu'il dependoit absolument de son bon plaisir de donner * h I'homme, en le creant, telle nature qu'il jugeroit a propos, * Comment done les actions humaines pourroient-elles avoir quelque * propriete qui resultat d'une necessite interne et absolue, inde- * pendemment de institution Divine, et du bon plaisir de cet etre * souverain ? ' " On voit premierement, que quoique nous disions, que Dieu a du suivre necessairement I'ordre et la Loi Eternelle, cette loi eternelle n'est pas un principe exterieur qu'on associe a Dieu ; cette Loi Eternelle resulte de la perfection meme de I'Etre Divin, qui connoit les choses telles qu'elles sont, et dont 1' Amour est essentiellement conforme a Vordre de Ses Connoissances. Et certaine- ment, sans cette loi eternelle, comment pourroit-on assurer, que Dieu ne pent mentir, qu'il ne pent tromper les hommes f S. Paul et I'P^criture associent done a Dieu un principe exterieur, en assurant que Dieu ne pent mentir?* " On voit en second lieu, que la raison que I'auteur apporte pour soutenir son opinion, vient aussi de ce qu'il n'avoit pas assez bien medite les raisonnements metaphysiques. II est vrai, qu'on * "Devoirs," &c. liv. i. chap. ii. sec. S, note 1. Dieu lui-mcme, qui n'a besoin de nous, est sujet a la glorieuse necessite de ne pouvoir rien prescrire contre les regies inviolables de I'ordre, qui ne sont autre cliose qu'une emanation de Ses Perfections Infinies, une suite de la nature des choses dont il est lui-meme I'Auteur, de sorte qu'il Se dementiroit, s'll agissoit aut.renient. (Author's note.) CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 67 convient generalement, que Dieu a cree I'homme, comme tout le reste du monde, avec une volonte souverainement libre ; mais aussi on convient generalement, que suppose que Dieu se soit librement determine a creer le monde, il ne lui a pas ete libre de la creer d'une maniere indvpie de Soi, ou qui ne fut pas conforme a cet ordre, ou a cette Loi Eternelle fondee sur Sa Sagesse, et sur Sa Saintete. Ce que Fauteur ajoute, est encore plus frivole, qu^il dependoit du bon plaisir de Dieu de donner a Phomme en le creant telle nature qvi'il jugeroit a propos. Je crois que Pauteur a voulu dire, que Dieu, au lieu de creer un homme, pouvoit creer un oiseau, ou un animal de toute autre nature, a qui on auroit donne le nom d'homme ; et alors ce qu'il dit est tout-a-fait hors de propos. Mais suppose, que Dieu ait voulu creer librement une nature telle que celle que nous appellons homme ; il n'a pas certainement pu lui donner une autre nature, ni lui donner par une institution libre une autre loi naturelle. II ne jyouvoit faire que lliomine connui avec evidence, que la partie fut p)lus grande que le tout, ou que la creature fut prdferable au Createur ; et par con- sequent il ne pouvoit faire que riiomme jugeat de devoir priferer la criature au Createur, et que sa prdfdrence ensuite de ce jugement fut juste et honnete. " De la il suit, que c'est une bien miserable objection que celle que I'auteur et plusieurs autres tirent du physique des actions humaines pour prouver qu'elles sont de leur nature indifferentes, et que les betes les font sans peche. Je ne crois pas qu'il y aie jamais en au monde un homme si peu sense qui voulut que le mouvement physique, ou Tacte exterieur par lequel on tue un homme, ou qu'on lui vole son bien, fut un peche. Quand on dit que les actions de I'liomme sont souvent honnetes ou deshonnetes par elles-memes, on I'entend du consentement de la volonte, et de la preference quelle donne a un motif plutot qu'a un autre. Or on eut raison d'assurer, que certains consente- ments ou preferences de la volonte sont dereglees de leur nature, comme quand elle prefere la creature au Createur, &c. C'est done bien mal a propos, que PufendorfF reprend Grotius (ibid. p. 32) pour avoir mis au rang ' des choses, auxquelles la Puis- sance Divine ne s'dtend p>oint, a cause qu'elles impliquent contra- diction, la malice de certaines actions humaines; qui sont essen- tiellement mauvaises, en sorte quHl nest pas au p)Ouvoir de Dieu mime de faire qu'elles ne soient pas telles.^ ''II. Principe. " On pent appeller Loi Naturelle la connoissance qu'on a de la difference du juste et de I'injuste, de I'honnete et du deshonnete. 68 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. " Explication. " La meme luinifere, qui nous fait connoitre qu'une action est juste ou injuste, honnOte ou deshonnete, nous fait anssi connoitre q%ie nous devons faire ce qui est juste, et nous abstenir de ce qui est injuste; c^est-a-dire, que des que nous connoissons qu'une pre- ference est juste ou injuste, nous ne pouvons ignorer noire devoir par rapport a cette preference. Done cette connoissance de la difference du juste et de I'injuste, pent et doit servir de regie aux actions humaines ; on pent done lui donner le nom de loi. Or cette loi est assurement naturelle,* et non positive, parce qu'elle ne depend pas de ^institution libre et positive d'un legislateur ; mais quelle est fondde sur la connoissance de certains rajyports naturels ou essentiels des cJwses memes. On pourroit disputer si on doit donner le nom de loi a une rkgle, quand on ne sait pas qu'elle ait dtd donnde par un Ugislateur Ugitime ; mais ce seroit une dispute de nom ; il suffit que cette rlgle puisse imposer une veritable obligation de la suivre : or la connoissance du juste et de I'injuste impose a tons les hommes une vraie obligation de faire ce qui est juste, et de s'abstenir de ce qui est injuste, sans attendre la connoissance explicite de la volontd cVun Ugislateur. Ceux qui ne veulent pas que la con- noissance du juste et de I'injuste suffise pour imposer une obligation proprement dite, sont fort embarrasses de trouver le fondement de I'obligation ou sont les hommes d'obeir a la loi naturelle." He ifc * H< * * " J'ai dit que la connoissance des verites fondees sur les rapports de perfection impose w/i veritable devoir, et par conse- quent une obligation de s'y conformer. Pour eclaircir cette ques- tion qui regarde le fondement de I'obligation, et qui est fort subtile et fort delicate, il faut dire deux mots du sentiment oppose. Plusieurs celebres auteurs eiitre les Protestants, outre Pufen- dorflp et Barbeyrac, pretendent qu'il n'y a point de veritable obligation de faire ou d'omettre une action, sans la volonte ou la loi dSm legislateur legitime, qui la commande ou qui la defende. Or pour faire une loi parfaite qui impose une obligation parfaite, ils veulent que cette loi ait deux parties, I'une qui enseigne ce que Ton doit faire, I'autre qui menace de la peine qu'on encourra si on ose la violer. * C'est ainsi que Ciceron definit la loi naturelle : ' Lex est ratio iusita in natura, quae jubet ea qua? facienda sunt, proliibetque contraria.' Fausse est ])ar consequent la maxime de M. Hobbcs ('Fond de la Politiq.' ch. 12, ar. 1) conruii en ccs termes : 'Mais entre les opinions qui disposent a la * sedition, Tunc des principalles est celle-ci, qu'il appartient h chaque par- ' ticulier de jugcr ou de ce qui est bien, ou de ce qui est mal,' t&c. Voyez le reste de I'article. La confutation en est aisoe. (Author's note.) CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE TliECEDING SECTIOM. G9 " 1. De la il s'ensuivroit, qu'on ne seroit oblige d'obeir k la loi que par la crainte des peines; puisque sans cette crainte qui repond a la partie coactive de la loi, ou sans la partie coactive dont Taction ne rend qu'a inspirer la crainte, il n'y a point de loi parfaite. " 2. Je dois remarquer une contradiction, dans laquelle ils tombent a ce sujet. Ils avouent qu'un Prince depouille de son autorite peut faire une loi qui oblige: cependant la loi d'un tel Prince ne peut contenir que la partie directive; car dans cette supposition la partie coactive ne sauroit avoir d^etFet. " 3. Mais si la loi d'un Prince depouille de son autorite, qui ne conserve que la partie directive, ne laisse pas que d'Imposer une veritable obligation; si les gens de bien, independemment de la crainte, se croient obliges de s'y soumettre, — sur quoi est fondee cette obligation, si non sur les lumieres naturelles de la raison, qui font voir le rapport de convenance qu'il y a eu ce qu'un sujet obeisse a son superieur ? *' D'ailleurs dans la societe civile il peut arriver, qu^in homme aime mieux subir la peine infligee par la loi, une amende pecuniaire par exemple, que d^observer cette loi ; il peut nieme quelquefois, comme il arrive aux contrebandiers, si bien prendre ses mesures, qu'il ne sera pas decouvert, on qu^il ne craindra aucunement d'etre pris. Alors la partie coactive de la loi n'a aucune force par rapport a cet homme. Est-il done absous de Pobligation de s'y soumettre? C'est ce qu'on n'oseroit dire. C^est done en virtu de la partie directive; c'est done parce qu'il juge qu'il est juste de se soumettre a une loi legitime, meme sans y etre force ; et il juge que cela est juste, a cause de ce rapport de convenance qu'il y decouvre, c'est-a-dire en d'autres termes, a cause de la conformite de cet acte avec les lumieres de sa raison. Puis done que cette conformite, &c., est la regie, ou le fondement de I'obligation ou I'on se reconnoit d'obeir a un superieur, on ne sauroit douter que cette conformite ne soit le premier fondement de toute obligation ; car il est clair, que ce n'est qu'en virtu de l' obligation generale de se conformer aux lumieres de la droite raison, qu'on vient a connoitre I'obligation particuliere d'obeir a un superieur. Car la comioissance de cette obligation particuliere suppose necessairement ces deux con- noissances plus generales : I'une, que c'est une chose conforme a la droite raison et convenable, de se soumettre a un superieur ; I'autre, quon doit faire ce quon connoit conforme a la droite raison. Ces deux connoissances sont comme les deux premisses d'un syllogisme, dont la connoissance de I'obligation de se soumettre a la loi d'un superieur est une consequence necessaire. " Un sujet obeit a son Prince legitime depouille de son autorite, qui ne sauroit lui faire du mal. tin autre obeit a un brigand, 70 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. entre les mains de qu^il est tombe, par la crainte des suppli'ces, quoique ce brigand n'ait aucune superiorite legitime sur lui. Dans le premier cas il y a une obligation d'obeir; dans le second il n'y en a point, des qu^on pent desobeir en cachette, pour ne pas s'exposer a la mort. Qu'on en donne d'autre raison que celle que nous avons dit. Cela fait voir, que I'autorite d'infliger des peines n'accompagne pas toujours la superiorite legitime. Ce sont done les lumicres de la raison, qui font connoitre la su- periorite legitime, et Fobligation de s'y soumettre. " Quand on connoit une verite fonde sur les rapports de per- fection, par ex., que la vie de son ami est preferable a celle d'une bete, ou connoit aussi le rapport de convenance qu'il y a a preferer la vie de cet ami h, celle de la bete. Or ce rapport de convenance est aussi une verite, qu'on exprime en ces termes : ' il convient, on il faut preferer la vie d^un ami a celle d'une bete ; quand on voit un ami pret a etre decline par une bete qui s'est jetee sur lui, il ne faut pas balancer a conserver la vie de cet ami au depens de celle de la bete, si on pent la tuer.' La con- noissance de cette vdrite fait done naitre dans I'dsprit un jugement aussi certain de ce qu'il faut f aire en cette occasion, que la connois- sance d'une veritd de geometric fait naitre un jugement certain de ce qu'il faut afjirmer ou nier. Or comme le jugement certain en fait de speculation est la regie de ce qu'on doit affirmer ou nier, le jugement certain en fait d'action, c'est-a-dire de ce qu'il faut faire ou ne pas faire, est la regie de ces memes actions. Or comme on appelle verite ou faussete, ce qui est conforme ou contraire a la regie en fait de speculation, — on appelle bon ou mauvais, ce qui est conforme ou oppose a la r^gle des actions ; la lumiere la plus simple de la verite fait connoitre, que chaque chose, pour etre dans I'ordre et n'etre pas fautive, doit etre con- forme a sa regie. L'esprit ne pent done connoitre la regie de ses actions, sans connoitre aussi qu'il doit les y conformer. ' Est autem vitium primum animte rationalis voluntas ea faciendi, qua vetat summa et intima Veritas,' dit S. Augustin. {Lib. de vera Relig., cap. 19.) Ce fondement de I'obligation est si naturel, que les paiens memes, qui avoient aussi bien que les modernes I'idee de Fobligation (puisque torit le monde sait ce que cest que V obligation, quoique tout le monde ne connoisse pent etre pas les fondements), n'en ont pas pense autrement. Quoiqu'un crime put etre eternelle- ment cach^ aux dieux et aux hommes, on ne devroit pas le commettre, disoient-ils ; car en evitant tout autre cliatiment, ou ne pourroit eviter les reproches de la conscience. Or ce reproche de la conscience ne consiste quen ce que Vesprit cormoit qu'il manque a ce qu'il doit, lorsqu'il agit centre ce qu'il connoit etre la regie de ses actions. Cest done sur la conformite a cette regie qu'est fondee I'obligation. Cest en ce sens, que S. Paul dit (Ep. CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 71 ad Rom. xi. xii.) : ' Qui sine lege peceaveruiit, sine lege peribunt.' Comment done le Traducteur de Pufendorft' a-t-il pu pn'tendre, pour excuser en quelque maniere Terreui- que nous avons combattu ci-dessus, que quoique independamment de la Volonte de Dieu il ne soit pas aussi beau * de manquer a sa parole, que de la tenir &c., cela ne suffit pas pour imposer une obligation proprement aussi nommee ? "III. Pt'incipe. " La connoissance du juste et de I'injuste ne depend pas d'une connoissance explicite de la volonte de Dieu : en sorte qu'on ne puisse juger qu'une chose est juste et honnete, que parce qu'on salt que Dieu la conimande ; et qu'au contraire elle n'est injuste et deshonnete, que parce qu'on salt que Dieu la defend. " Explication. " Le Traducteur de Pufendorff (lib. ii. c. 2, § 6, n. 1) avoue qu'il y a des actes qui par eux-menies ne conviennent h Dieu en aucune maniere ; c'est-a-dire, dont II ne sauroit etre susceptible sans deroger a Ses Perfections, et sans se contredire lui-meme ; et je crois que c'est une verite, dont on ne sauroit douter, pour peu qu'on ait de bon sens et de religion. Or ce qui nous porte a ne pas attribuer a Dieu ces sortes d'actes, c'est par ce que nous les connoissons manifestement contraires aux notions communes que nous avons de la honte, et de la justice, ^-c, que nous savons etre des attrihuts de la DivinitL Done il y a des choses que nous con- noissons par elles-meines lionnetes et deshonnetes, justes et injustes, independamment d^une connoissance explicite de la volonte de Dieu. C'est ce que S. Paul explique clairement. (Ep. ad Rom. cap. ii.j: ' Quum eniui gentes quae legem non liabent, naturaliter ea quse legis sunt faciunt, ejusinodi legem non liabentes, ipsi sibi sunt lex ; qui ostendunt opus legis scriptum in cordibus suis ; testi- monium reddente illis conscientia ipsorum, et inter se invicem cogitationibus accusantibus et defendentibus.' De la suit le " IV. Principe. " Au contraire, sans une expresse revelation, on ne pent con-- noitre, qu'une telle action soit commandde ou defendue par Dieu, que parce qu'on sail quelle est de soi bonne, ou mauvaise. * Pufendorff (" Devoirs," &c. liv. i. chap ii. § 1) dit : " L'ordre et la beaute de la societe bumaine deraandoit necessairement, qu'il y eutquelque regie, a laquelle on fut tenu de se conformer." Lors done, qu'on connoit une regie qui dirige les actions d'une maniere conforme a cet ordre, ct a cette beaute, pourquoi cette regie ne sera-t-elle pas une loi, conime I'auteur la nomme m6me au § 2 ? (Author's note.) 72 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. " ^plication. " Le Traducteur de PufendorfF, qui malgre le passage de I'Apotre que nous avons cite ci-dessus ne reconnoit pour fonde- vient de Vobligation que la volonU de Dieu ; dit, que cette voloute se decouvre a nous par la convenance de telles ou telles actions avec la nature humaine. Mais comme il n'explique point en quoi il fait consister cette convenance, on est en droit de lui re- pondre, que ce qu'il avance, ne signifie rien. II ne sauroit sim- plement entendre, par cette convenance, les actions qui peuvent tourner a I'avantage et au bonheur de I'lionime; puisque son auteur avoue qu'il y en a plusieurs qui ne sont pas moralement bonnes, comnie on pent le prouver par la connoissance des arts, qui n'est pas moralement bonne (car on n'est pas d'autant plus honnete lionune qu'on est grand geometre) et qui pourtant con- tribue infiniment a I'avantage de la societe. Qu'est ce done que c'est cette convenance avec la nature humaine ? On ne pent I'expliquer autrement, si non que la nature humaine etant une nature raisonnable, elle connoit, entre les choses qui se presentent, entre les fins qu'elle se pent proposer en agissant, entre les motifs qui la meuvent, certains rapports de perfection, par lesquels elle connoit qu'une telle action est preferable a une autre action, et qu'il J a un rapport de convenance a preferer ce qui est pre- ferable. Mais alors c'est Tidee de I'ordre qui est la r^gle de nos actions, et qui suffit pour ohliger meme a agir ceux que Von suppose n' avoir aucune idee de Dieu. Nous avons done une idee du juste et de Pinjuste, de I'honnete et du deshonnete, indipendammeyit de la connoissance explicite de la volontd de Dieu. Ce n'est que par cette idee, que nous jugeons, que c'est la volonte de Dieu qu'on fasse du bien a ceux qui nous en font ; sans cette idee, comment les pai'ens, qui n'avoient aucune expresse revelation de la volonte de Dieu, auroient-ils pu donner de si beaux preceptes de morale, distinguer Futile de I'honnete, enseigner qu'on doit *omnem cruciatum perferre, intolerabili dolore lacerari, potius quam officium prodere, aut fidem ; ' et reconnoitre que cela etoit conforme h. la volonte de I'Etre souverain, essentiellement Juste, Bon, et Saint ? II faut done convenir qu'il j a des choses, qui sont ' maljB, quia prohibita3 ; ' et qu'il y en a d'autres, qui sont * prohibitse, quia malse."' — Morale Chrdtienne de Card. Gerdil, pp. 44-49, 51-57, vol. ii. of the Roman edition of his works. 29. Next let us proceed to the great post-Tridentiiie scholastics; who will be found, in treating the subject, to cite no small amount of anterior testimony also. And first for Suarez. This 2;reat theoloi»;ian treats the question very fully in his " De Legibus;" which is CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 73 usually considered his greatest and most authoritative work. The chapters in which this treatment is to be found, are the fifth and sixth chapters of the second book. I will first give various extracts from these chapters, and then an analysis of their contents. Let us commence with certain statements, put forth by him as arguments for a certain doctrine of Vasquez, which he (Suarez) opposes. These state- ments themselves are certainly true in Suarez's judg- ment, because he immediately subjoins these words : ' In hac [Vasquezii] sententia, veram esse existimo doc- ^ trinam quam in fundamento supponit, de intrinsecd ' honestate vel malitid actuum, qua? sub Legem Natu- ' ralem cadunt.' (lib. ii. c. v. n. 5.) What his difference from Vasquez is^ we shall see when we analyse the chapter : but he at once states that he has no differ- ence with that theologian on the question immediately before us ; on the intrinsic virtue or vice of those acts, which fall under the Natural Law. What then are those statements, which may be supposed as put forth by Vasquez, and to which Suarez expresses his complete assent ? Such as the following : — " Sunt aliquse actiones ita intrinsece malae ex natnrd sua, ut nullo modo peiideant in malitia ex prohibitione extrinsecd nee ex Judicio vel Voluntate Divind .... Quod suppono ex communi sen- tentid theologoimm .... Ratio est, quia actus morales habent suas intrinsecas naturas et essentias immutahiles, quae non pendent a causa vel voluntate extnnsecd, magis quam alice reruni essenticsy quce per se non implicant contradictionem.'''' — (Ibid. n. 2.) Again : — " Sicut essentige rerum, quatenus non implicant contradic- tionem, sunt tales vel tales in esse essentia, ex se et ante omnem causalitatem Dei et quasi independenter ab Ipso — ita lionestas veri- tatis et turpitudo mendacii talis est ex se et secundum ceternam veritatem." — (n. 4.) So much, where stating his agreement with Vas- quez. In the next chapter, while stating his own doc- trine, he is equally clear: — " Dictamina rationis naturalis, in quibus bfec lex consistit, sunt 74 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. inttinsece necessaria et independentia ab omni voluntate etiam Divind; . . . . ut 'Deus est colendus,' *parentes honorandi,' 'men- dacium est pravum et cavendum/ et siniilia." — (c. vi. n. 1.) " Etiam in Deo, ad Voluntatem antecedit, secundiim rationem. Judicium mentis indicans mentiri esse malum, servare promissum esse omnino rectum et necessarium." — (c. vi. n. 6.) Again, having explained that the Natural Law refers properly to God's Command, and not to the intrinsic rectitude or pravity of acts, he proceeds : — " Hgec Dei Vokmtas, Prohibitio aut Prgeceptio, non est tota ratio honitatis et malitice quae est in observatione vel transgressione Legis Naturalis, sed siqyponit in ipsis actihus necessariam quamdam lionestatem vel turpitudinem ; et illis adjungit specialem Legis Divinag obligationem. Hsec assertio .... coUicjitur ex illo com- tnuni axiomate theologorum, qusedam mala esse prohibita quia mala; si enim prohibentur quia mala, non possunt primam ra- tionem malitiiB accipere a probibitione," (c. vi. n. 11.) ... . " Secundum ordinem rationis [mendacium] prius est actus malus quam prohibitus per propriam legem." — (c. vi. n. 14.) Lastly: — " Respondeo, in actu liumano esse aliquam bonitatem vel malitiam, ex vi ohjecti prcecise spectati ut est consonum vel dis- sonum 7'ationi rectce ; et secundvim eam posse denominari et malum, et peccatum, et cidpahilem, secundum illos respectus, seclusa habi- tudine ad propriam legem. Prseter banc vero, habet actus hu- manus specialem rationem boni et mali in ordine ad Deum, addita Divind Lege prohibenie vel i^rcBcipiente." — (c. vi. n. 17.) Let us now proceed to our promised analysis of the two chapters. ' It is said that the Natural Law is nothing else ' than the rational nature. But this may be held in ' two senses: — ' First, it mav be held that the Natural Law is ' nothing else than the rational nature, according to ' that sense of the latter phrase, in which .we say that ' things intrinsecally good are conformable to the ra- ' tional nature, and things intrinsecally evil repugnant ' to it. ' In another sense it may be said that the Natural ' Law is our rational nature, meaning thereby that the ' discernment of duty, which appertains to the rational CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THIi I'KECEDING SECTION. 75 nature, is tlie very promulgation of the natural law. (c. 5, n. 1.) ' Vasquez liolds the proposition In the former sense ; and though lie quotes no authorities in behalf of his statement, something may be said in its behalf on grounds of reason. First, as theologians commonly admit, certain acts are intrinsecally right or intrinse- cally wrong. Yet they must be right from conformity with some law or other, and not from mere conformity with our judgment. But they are right from con- formity with our rational nature ; hence our rational nature is a real law. But if it be any law, then plainly it is the Natural Law. ' Secondly, these acts are right, antecedently to any judgment formed concerning them by God : hence the obligation to perform them, that is the Natural Law, cannot come from God : what else therefore can it be, except our rational nature ? (nn. 2-4.) * ' Now I quite agree with Vasquez in all that he says about the intrinsic obligation of acts ; yet I can- not agree with his conclusion. ' First, theologians and philosophers do not in general so express themselves. Secondly, a law should give command, light, and direction ; but the rational nature (in Vasquez' sense) does not give command, light, or direction. Thirdly, there can be no law, properly so called, without the will of some one giving command, (n. 5.) 'In the third reason I anticipate, c. 6, n. 1, 'Lex enim propria et prseceptiva non est, sine voluntate alicujus prrecipientis.' To proceed however with our analysis : ' Besides, see what consequences would follow. It would follow in the first place, that God is no less subject to the Natural Law than we are; for in God also, as well as in man, to act viciously would be to act against His nature. If therefore this fact suflflces in our case to constitute our nature as a law to us, it * I have omitted as irrelevant the third reason suggested by Suarcz in Vasquez' behalf. 76 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. would no less constitute God's Nature as a law to Him. And it would follow in the second place, that to us the Natural Law would not be a Divine law at all. (nn. 7, 8.) ' The common doctrine of theologians therefore is, that our rational nature in the second sense is the Natu- ral Law' (he means, is the promulgation to us of the Natural Law) ; 'for by our rational nature, in this sense, the human will receives command or prohibition, as to * quod agendum est ex naturali jure.' (c. 5, n. 9.) This view may be supported by Scripture, Fathers, and Reason, (nn. 10-15.) ' But here we come to a great difficulty. For those things which the light of reason thus dictates, as ' Deus est colendus,' ' parentes sunt honorandi,' and the like, are truths independent even of the Divine Will. If then the mere light of reason be the promulgation of the Natural Law, how can that Law be in any strict sense a law at all? for the light of reason does not make known to us (it may be said) the command of any superior^ but only the intrinsic virtuousness or viciousness of certain acts, (c. 6, nn. 1, 2.) ' Some theologians have accepted this conse- quence ; they have said that the Natural Law is 7iot in strictness a law, is not the command of any superior, but only an inherent light, teaching us what is intrinsecally good. It is a ' lex indicans,' but not a ' lex prsecipiens.' ' (n. 3.) It would seem, though Suarez does not advert to it, that this is precisely Vasquez' view. Gerdil also plainly speaks in this way; for throughout he calls our perception of the intrinsic goodness and badness of acts, our recognition of the Natural Law. To proceed however with the Doctor Eximius. ' An extremely opposite view has been taken by * some other theologians ; who maintain that the Natural ' Law is simply a collection of commands, imposed by ' God as the Author and Governor of our nature. ' These theologians say, that the whole distinction 4 CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 77 ' between good and evil turns on the will of God ; and ' that God does not command a thing because it is in- ' trinsecally good, but on the contrary it is intrinse- ' cally good because He commands it.' (n. 4.)* Pray observe, that this is the precise doctrine against which I argued throughout the previous Sec- tion. Let us now see how completely our author dis- claims it: — ' I am satisfied with neither opinion ; and therefore * judge that a middle course should be held, which I ' think is the opinion of St. Thomas and the common * one of theologians. \ ' I say then first [against the first opinion] the (pro- ' mulgation of the) Natural Law is not merely a pointing ' out of the intrinsic good and evil contained in actions, ' but contains an express command of good and pro- ' hibition of evil on God's part. (n. 5.) This I prove by two arguments. First, a pos- teriori, otherwise the Natural Law would not pro- ' perly be a law. Secondly, a priori, because reason * itself, in recognising a Holy God, recognises e. g. ' His prohibition of things intrinsecally evil.' (nn. 6-10.) We have developed this latter reason in n. 24. ' I say secondly [against the second opinion] this ' prohibition or command of God, given in the Natural ' Law, supposes a certain necessary/ virtuousness or base- ' ness in the acts themselves ; and adds to those acts the ' special obligation of a Divine Law.% (n. 11.) ' The former part of this statement (viz. that the ' acts themselves have intrinsic virtuousness or baseness ' necessarily inhering) is implied in that axiom of theo- ' logians, that some evils are ' prohibita quia mala ;' and ' is quite evident indeed from the arguments suggested ' in behalf of Vasquez' doctrine. The second part of * 'Qui etiani addunt totam rationem boni et mali, in rebus ad legem naturse pertinentibus, positam esse in Voluntatc Dei ; et non in judicio rationis, etiam Ipsius Dei, neque in rebus ipsis, quce per talem legem vetantur aut prsecipiuntiir.' t ' Mihi vero neutra sententia satisfacit ; et ideo mediam viam tenen- dam censeo, quam existimo esse sententiam D. Thoma3 et communem theologorum.' (n. 5.) X See quotation already given in note to n. 24. 78 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. ' this statement (viz. that the Natural Law adds a special ' obligation in addition to this intrinsic virtuousness or ^baseness) follows upon what has already been said. I ' have shewn that the Natural Law is a real Divine Law; ' therefore it must add some obligation. Nor is there ' any imaginable repugnance in the idea, that a new ' obligation may be added where one already exists. ' (nn. 11, 12.) ' I say therefore thirdly (recapitulating what has ' preceded) that the Natural Law is a true law, God being ' Legislator. Yet it supposes a judgment in God, that ' the acts commanded by the Natural Law are conform- ' able, and the acts forbidden by it are repugnant, to ' our rational nature : to which judgment of God, this ' Natural Law adds an act of His Will, obliging men to ' observe that which right reason dictates.* (n. 13.) ' Now to consider the arguments in favour of the ' two opinions which I reject. Their consideration will ' turn entirely on this hypothetical statement ; " even ' though God did not prohibit or command those things ' which belong to the Natural Law, nevertheless to lie is ' evil, and to honour parents good and obligatory." Li ' regard to which hypothetical statement, I must consider * two things : First, what would follow from such a ' hypothesis ? Secondly, is the hypothesis a possible ' one?' (n. 14.) We omit his statements of other opinions in nn. 15 and 16, and come to his own in n. 17. 'As to the ' first question, I make this answer. In a human action ' there is a certain goodness or badness from the object ' considered precisely; and according to this (badness) ' it may be called an evil, a sin, culpable, without any * 'Uncle probandum non est, quod doctores posteriori loco allegati dicunt, Voluiitatem Divinam, qua lex naturalis sancitur, non supponere dictamen divinsc rationis dictantis, hoc esse honestum vel turpe ; neque Voluntatem illam Dei [non] supponere in objecto intrinsecam convenientiam vel disconvenientiam ad naturmn rntionalem, ratione cujus vult unum fieri et aliud vetari : constat, enim, ex dictis in secunda conclusione, hoc falsum esse et contra rationem Legis Naturalis. Quamvis ergo obligatio ilia quam addit lex naturalis, ut Y)roprie pra3ceptiva est, sit ex Vohmtate Diving, tamcn ilia voluntas supponit judicium, de malitia, verbi gratis, mendacii et similia: tamen, quia ex vi aoWns, ]\id\c\\ non md\xc\i\iv propria prohibitio, vel obligatio prcccepti, quia hoc sine voluntate intelligi non potest, idoo adjungitvr Voluntas prohibendi illud, quia malum est.' (cap. 6, n. 13.) CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE TRECEDING SECTION. 79 relation to a law properly so called* Besides this badness, a liumaii act has a special quality of good or bad in relation to God, from tlie Divine Law being added which commands or prohibits it. (nn. 17-19.) ' As to the second question — whether the hypothesis is a possible one (that God should wo?^ prohibit or com- mand those things which are in themselves evil or obligatory respectively) — there are two opinions. First, that it is impossible ' de Dei potentia ordinata,' but not ' absoluta ;' secondly, that it is impossible even ' de Dei potentia absoluta.' Tliis latter is plainly St. Thomas's opinion, and I follow it. It would be contrary to the very Attributes of a Holy and Wise Creator, if He did not impose such an obligation on His rational creatures. You may object, that God's will is free in all external actions ; but I reply with Cajetan, not altogether so. He is free e. g-. to make or not to make a promise ; but if He does make one, He is necessitated to keep it : He is free to make or not to make a revelation ; but if He do make one, He is necessitated to reveal truth. And in a way precisely similar, He is free to create or not to create rational persons; but if He do create them. He is necessitated to impose on them the obligations of the Natural Law. (nn. 21, 23.) f ' A second objection may be made; viz. that promul- gation is essential to a law properly so called. Now God is certainly free, it may be said, as to whether He will or will not pro7nulgate His command, that men shall act conformably with reason; and there- fore it still remains, that He is free whether He shall or shall not impose the Natural Law. But I reply, that He is necessitated to pronuilgate such a law ; for if He be necessitated to enact it, He must be necessi- tated to promulgate it. And He has in fact promul- gated it, by the fact already mentioned, that reason alone suffices to shew us His will in this particular.'! * 'Malum, peccatum culpabile, seclusd habitudine ad propriam legem.'' t See quotation already given in the note to n. 24, " Dico igitur ex Cajetano," &c. X Hac de causa per lumen naturale cognoscitur, Deum oflfendi peccatis qiise contra Legem Naturalemfiunt,et ad Ipsura pertinereillorum pixnitioncm 80 PHILOSOrHICAL INTRODUCTION. I would beg you to read carefully over these two chapters of Suarez ; and see whether I have not repre- sented him with the most perfect faithfulness.* It is quite impossible then to doubt his meaning. His immediate subject is not morality but law ; and it is a very important matter tlierefore, from his point of view, to oppose Vasquez's notion, that there can be a law, strictly so called, without a lawgiver. Yet with all his earnest opposition to Vasquez, never for a mo- ment does he lose sight of the great truth, that the acts prohibited by the Natural Law are also indepen- dently wrong ; and would be ' mala, peccata, culpabilia,' (c. 6, n. 17), even though that Law did not exist. 30. Vasquez, as is evident from what has preceded, will be found even more emphatic than Suarez him- self, in declaring that the intrinsic wickedness of vice does not arise from God's Prohibition ; but that on the contrary God's Prohibition of it arises from its intrinsic wickedness. One citation then will suffice, from that chapter of his which Suarez quotes : — " Si vero sermo sit de Lege Natural!, quse suapte natur^ constare dicitur non autem placito aut alicujus volimtate, aliter clicendum est. Cum enim lex aut jvis sit regula cui aequari debent actiones ut justae sint, naturalis lex aut naturale jus erit regula naturalis, quge nulla voluntate seel suapte naturd constat. Porrb talem esse aliquam legem aut jus, quod nulla voluntate etiam Dei constitutum sit, illud maxime confirmat quod superius dixi- mus(disp. 97, c. 3) ; nempe qusedam ita ex se mala et peccata esse, ut ex nulla voluntate etiam Dei eorum prohihitio pendeat: id quod a nobis superque probatum est. Nee solum hoc ita esse ostendimus, verum etiam monstravimus, multa ita esse ex se mala, ut eorum malitia pracedat, secundum rationem, omne judicium Divini Intel- lectus ; hoc est, non ideo sint mala quia mala judicantur a Deo, et judicium. Ergo ipsum naturale lumen est de se sufficiens promulgatio Legis Naturalis : non sohlni quia manifcstat intrinsccam disconvenieutiam vel convenientiam actuum, quam lumen Dei increatum ostcndit ; sed etiam quia intimat homini, contrarias actiones displicere Auctori naturce, tanquam Supremo Domino, et Curatori, ac Gubernatori, ejusdem naturae, (cap. 6, n. 24.) * Suarez' " De Legibus" is a book so commonly met with, and I have been obliged, as it is, to make so many extracts from it, that I have not thotfght it neces,sary to swell the bulk of my volume by copying the entire chapters. CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 81 quin potius ideo taJia judicentur quia ex se talia sint. Ex quo illud efficitur, ut ante oninem Dei Voluntatem et Iniperium, imo etiam ante omne Judicium, aliqua ex se sint bona opera vel mala ; ut ibidem monstratum est. Ciimque omne bonum vel malum per ordinem ad regulam aliguam dicatur bonum vel malum, justum vel injustum, consequens fit, ut ante omne imperium, ante omnem voluntatem, imo ante omne judicium, est regula qiim^ dam harum actionum, qum sndpte natitrd constet, sicut res omnes suapte natura contradictionem non implicant. Htec autem non potest alia esse, quam ipsamet rationalis natura ex se non im- plicans contradictionem ; cui, tanquam regulse et jui-i naturali, bonas actiones conveniunt et aequantur, malffi autem dissonant et injfiquales sunt ; quamobrem et illaB bonaa, hge autem malse, dicuntur" (in I'" 2^ d. 150, nn. 22, 23). 31. Lessius is equally clear with Siiarez and Vas- quez. We are not here concerned with the conclusion which he is labouring to prove; on which however! shall speak before we close the Section. What we are here concerned with however, are the principles which he assumes as undoubted, in order to establish his conclusion. He assumes two principles. First, that sin cannot become mortal, i.e. cannot deserve an Eternity of punishment, unless so far as it is against the commandment of God. Secondly, he assumes — and this it is with which we are here concerned — that even if, 'per impossibile,' there were no Divine Law, nay and no God, yet that there would remain intrinsic morality ; and that offences against that morality would be sins, though not mortal ones. Thus : — " Ex quibus sequitur, primo. Si nullus esset Deus, nullum fore peccatum vere et proprie mortiferum, sed omnia fore veni- alia: quia carebunt ilia malitia, quse spectatur in ordine ad Deum." — De Perfectionihus Divinis, lib. xiii. n. 186. You see offences would still be ' peccata,' but ' venialia.' Again : — " Sequitur secundo, Nullum etiam fore peccatum mortiferum, si Deus peccata non prohibuisset, saltem per Legem Naturse menti- bus hominum insculptam: quod intellige de peccatis, qu£e per se non continent Dei contemptum. Si enim peccata non essent a Deo ita prohibita, ut homines intuitu Dei sen reverentias Divinas G 82 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. tenerentur ilia vitare, non censerentur Deum contemnere, vel injiiriam irrogare, patrando peccata; sed solum naturam suam dedecorare et contra rectam rationem agere. Veruni sicut impos- sibile est, ut actus liber rectce rationi rejyiignans non sit prohibitus a Deo, ita etiam impossibile est ut non sit peccatum mortiferum, si sit in re gravi ab homine Deum aliquo modo cognoscente. Dices : ' Furtum, adulterium, perjurium, et similia, quse sunt contra * Legem Naturse, non ideo mala sunt quia prohibita Lege Naturae, ' sed ideo sunt prohibita quia mala : ideo enim ratio naturalis et * Lex ^Eterna dictat ilia esse fugienda, quia in se mala sunt. Unde ' prius est ilia esse mala quam esse prohibita, et malitia praevenit ' Prohibitionem : ergo etiam si fingamus non esse prohibita, retine- ' bunt tamen suam malitiam.' Respondeo, ante omnem Prohi- bitionem considerari in illis quamdam malitiam objectivam et materialem, quateniis isti actus sunt dissoni naturae rational i, ita ut non possint recte appeti, nee recte fieri, ab eo qui ratione utitur. Pptest etiam in illis considerari quaedam malitia formalis, quateniis Jiunt ab aliquo liberl contra regulam rectce rationis : haec tamen per se non est mortifera, ut ostensum est. Unde non potest in istis acti- bus considerari malitia inoriifera, nisi sint contra Legem Divinam ; ita ut Divina Auctoritas per ilia censeatur contemni, et homo k Deo averti : quo fit ut prius sit actum esse prohibitum Lege Divina quam esse formaliter peccatum mortale ; cum peccatum mortale constituatur per Legis Divinse contemptum." — Ibid. n. 187. 32. I next turn to Lu2;o: — • (( Prseceptum diligendi Deum est omnino de Jure Naturce; et obligaret, secluso qiiovis Dei Decreto ; ut omnes concedunt." — De Penitentid, d. 7, n. 250. Lugo considers it, you see, as conceded by all, that a Precept of the Natural Law obliges, apart from any Decree or Command of God whatever. Next, I will put before you his remarks, on a subject similar to that which Lessius was treating. And here again we are not concerned with the con- clusion which he is advocating, but with the principles which he takes for granted as tending to that con- clusion. Lugo is considering this question. Suppose (per possibile vel impossibile) that a man committed murder, or did any other act which he should know to be contrary to right reason; but in regard to which he should be invincibly ignorant or inadvertent, that it is prohibited by Almighty God, Lugo is inquiring whether, in such a case, the sin would be mortal, i. e. de- CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 83 serve eternal piniisliment ; and whether it would be sucli, that no mere man could pay for it condign satis- faction. He makes the following incidental remarks, in treating this subject: — " De hoc dubio in lioc sensu theologi aiitiqui non satis distincte loquuntur. Ex recentioribus vero aliqui illud teti- gei'unt, inter qnos P. Salas, torn. ii. in 1, 2, tract. 13, disp. 16, sect. 22, rcfert sententiam recentiorum, qui dicunt, eo casu illud homicidiuni non fore peccatum niortale. Ipse vero in lianc sententiam acriter inveliitur, appellans earn parum tutam et valde perniciosam ; quia ex e^ sequitur, de facto plurinia ho- micidia, adulteria, et alia ejusmodi, esse solum peccata venialia, quia fiiuit cum ignorantia, vel saltern inadvertentia actuali, incul- pabili Leois Divinje; nee enim homo quoties peccat, recordatur Dei aut Divinae Legis. " Hanc sententiam Patris Salas ejus auctoritate ducti do- cuerunt (ut dixi) aliqui recentiores, et pro ea adducunt plures ex antiquioribus et recentioribus ; sed sine sufficienti fundamento. Nam ii solum dicunt, illud homicidiuni adhuc in eo casu fore malum moraliter, et peccatum ; qnod quidem veinssimum est, cum adhuc in eo casu haheret malitiam moralem per oppositionem cum reguld rationis. Nunc autem non qugerimus an esset peccatum, sed an absque malitia forraali offensse Divinae, quam tunc non haberet, adhuc haberet illam gravitatem, ratione cujus nunc theologi tribuunt illi infinitatem quandam et incompensabi- litatem." — De Incarnatiorie, disp. 5, nn. 71, 72. Lugo speaks of it, you see, as most true (verissi- mum), and testified by a great number of theologians, that the mere opposition to ' regula rationis,' witli invincible forgetfulness of God's Law, would fully suffice to constitute ' malitia mora lis ' and ' pec- catum.' He proceeds in the following words to quote with agreement Gregory of Ariniinum and Gabriel ; ' qua- tenus dicunt, quod si per impossibile non esset Deus^ adhuc homo peccare posset :' adding however his own opinion that such sin would not be mortal. In another place he takes for granted the same doctrine, as perfectly unquestioned : — " Mendacium est intrinsece malum, et ex iis, quae non sunt mala quia prohibita sed prohibiia quia mala ; ut suppono ex 84 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. S. Thom. et aliis infra quest. 110, art. 3, adeo ut nee Deus possit in eo dispensare." — De Fide, disp. 4, n. 23.* 33. I shall next adduce Coninck, a scholastic of great name; who is thus quoted textually by Lugo, in the same disputation of the " De Incarnatione," from which I have already quoted Lugo's own opinion : — " Si enim furtum v. c. nuilo modo a Deo prohiberetur Eive displiceret quantum vis pergeret, non minus quam modo repugnaret justitice ; tatnen nullo modo mereretur poenam seternam, et con- sequenter non contraheret omnem malitiam quam modo contrahit." — Lzigo de Incarnatione, disp. 5, n. 76. If theft were not prohibited by God, it would not contract all the badness which it now contracts : there- fore in Coninck's opinion it would contract some. 34. Bellarmine is also sufficiently plain : — " Actiones quaidam ita sunt per se atque intrinsece malae, ut deformitas ab eis sit omnino inseparabilis ; et prohibita sint quia malte, non malse quia prohibits; ac denique nullo modo bene fieri possint : quales sunt, mentiri, odisse Deunij et alia id genus." — De Ainiss. Grat. lib. ii. c. 18, n. 5. Again, — " Si fingamus Deum non esse in rerum natura ; qui leges justas violabunt, peccabunt qiiidem in conscientid ; sed nee Deum offendent, nee ad inferos daranabuntur." — De Summo Pontijice, 1. iv. c. 20, n. 7. 35. I will next cite theologians from other schools; that you may not imagine this to be any doctrine peculiar to the Jesuit Theology. And first for Billuart, the well-known Thomist : — " Su})pono ut certum, Legem Naturalem non posse proprie mutari ab intrinseco, quia non est lata ad tempus : neque potest fieri de justa injusta ; cum nihil pracipiat quod non sit intrinsech et ex natura rei honum, neque aliquid prohibeat quod non sit intrinsech et ex natura rei malum, proindeque immutabiliter : natura3 enim seu essentioe rerum sunt immutabiles." — De Legihus, dissert, ii. art. 4. * I may add in a note a quotation from St. Anselm, adduced by Lugo, ibid. n. 22. 'Non sequitur, justum est mentiri, si Deus vult mentiri ; sed potius Deum ilium non esse. Nam nequaquam potest velle mentiri voluntas, nisi in qua corrupta est Veritas ; inid quce deserendo veritatem corrupta est.' In other words, lying is iutrinsecally evil ; and a being who would lie could not be that God Whom wc worship. CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 85 " Hi actus enumerati, et similes proliibiti Lege Naturali, sunt intrinsech et ex natura. sua, independenter a voluntate Dei, turpes, mali, et rationi dissoni." — Ibid. Of these two quotations, the first is near the com- mencement of the article ; the second about three quarters througli the body of it. Very shortly before the ' solvuntur objectiones,' we find another most clear statement. He is speaking of certain most frightful sins, and says, — " Deus non potest dispensare in [illis], quia supposita dispen- satione adhuc sui horrorem ingerunt, turn propter horribilem indecentiam, turn propter omnimodam naturae subversionem, turn etiam quia nullo fine cohonestaA possunt. Porro non alia ratione adhuc horrorem ingerunt, supposita dispensatione, nisi quia ex intrinsecis suis, independenter a Dei Voluntate, sunt turpia et mala ; et ideo, non obstante dispensatione, retinent indecentiam, subvertunt naturam, et nullo fine cohonestari possunt. Atqui etiam homicidium, furtum, adulterium, fornicatio, poUutio, sunt ex suis intrinsecis mala et turpia independenter a Voluntate Dei" —P. 425. Lastly, in the first article, — " Neque refert quod si Deus mentiretur peccaret ; quia in hac hypothesi non esset Deus, ciim implicet quod is sit Deus, cui non repugnat mentiri: tenetur ergo Deus non mentiri, non vi allcujus legis id ei prohibentis, sed ratione repugnantiae et impossibilitatis." — P. 408. 36. On Billuart's judgment then there can be no doubt : let us proceed to another Thomist, Sylvius, — " Stuprum, adulterium, et alia hujusmodi, prceveniendo omnem Dei Voluntatem, essent quidem peccata ; utpote secundum se rectce rationi contraria et dissentanea Nihilominus non essent hic et nunc peccata in ordine ad Deum, non enim Deum ofJ'ende- rent, posito quod Deus ea non prohiberet. Addendum porro, quod sicut impossibile est ilia, stuprum, adulterium, et hujusmodi, esse bona, ita impossibile quod Deus ea per Legem Naturae non prohibeat." — Sylv. in 1, 2, art. 1, ad. 2. Again, a little earlier, — " Si quseras utrum Deus Legem Naturae ferat Uherh ; sive an Lex Naturae sic a libera Dei voluntate pendeat, ut posset eam non ferre. — Resp. Deum Legem eam ferre libere, in quantum liberb producit creaturam raiionalem quam potest non producere. Sup- posito autem quod eam producere velit, noti libere fert Legem 86 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. Naturalem, sed necessarib necessitate ex hypotliesi ; posito enim quod angelum vel hominem creare velit, eique rationis usum dare, non potest non velle dare ipsi lumen ac dictainen rectSB rationis ; neque potest velle quod non teneatur illud sequi." 37. Let us now turn to the Augustinians, and take Berti as their representative. One passage will amply suffice to shew his judgment: — " Quidquid prohibet Lex Naturse, est natura sua et intrinsece malum, et quidquid prsecipit est natura sua et intrinsece bonum ; quod sane ipsa Naturalis Legis notio manifesta declarat. At Deus non potest imperare quod suapte natura malum est, ut odium, mendacium, blasphemiam : neque potest prohibere quod intrinsec^ suaque natura bonum est, ut justitiam, pietatem, religionem. Si enim ilia proecipere, haec probibere posset, posset etiam agere qua) cum summa -^quitate ac Sapientia, atque cum essentia creatura3 rationalis repugnant ; atque ita poterit m.entiri, poterit ad peccatuni impellere." — De Theologicis Disciplinis, lib. xx. c. 5, prop. 3. 38. Lastly, we will take a specimen from the Scotists. Frassen treats the subject as follows : — " Dices secundo : ' Lex Naturalis non facit oblio;ationem, sed * supponit : Ei*go obligatio non est ejus efFectus. Antecedens patet * ex dictis ; nam Lex Naturalis in hoc a Lege Positiva distinguitur, * quod ilia probibet aliquid, quia malum est; btec vero prohibet * aliquid, quod sit malum quia est prohibitum. Et idem est cum * proportione de imperio et prsecepto faciendi bonum quia bonum ' est.' " Respondeo, cum Suarez, lib. ii. cap. 9, banc objectionem nostras assertionis esse confirmativam : nam, inquit, si Lex hgec prohibet aliquid quia malum, propriam et specialem necessitatem inducit vitandi illud; quia hoc intrinsecum est prolubitioni, ut vitetur quod prohibitum est. Probat etiam h.nec objectio, aliquid hanc Legem supponere, quod pertinet ad intrinsecum dehitum naturce ; siquidem unaquasque res quodannnodo sibi debet, ut nihil faciat sua? naturae dissentaneum. Ultra verb hoc dehitum etiam Lex Naturalis addit specialem ohligaiiovem moralem, quam jurisperiti obligationern naturalem appellant." — De Legibus, disp. 2, art. 2, q. 2, concl. prima. You see he expressly holds, with Suarez, that things commanded by the Natural Law are intrinsecally due (debita) independently of the Natural Law ; and that to this dehitum, the Natural Law adds a special obligation of its own. He states however distinctly that these CATHOLIC AUTHURITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 87 things are of real obligation^ quite independently of the Natural Law. These are his words : — " Deus in Lege Naturali aliquam ohligationem ex parte rerum supponit, qua3 videtur essentialis ipsis rebus, quia honestae sunt et bonaj ex naturci rei ; nam, ut supra dixiums, lioc est discrimen inter Legem Naturalem et Positivam, quod Lex Natu- ralis praecipit ea, qucn per se honesta sunt et bona ; prohibet autem, quce per se mala sunt" — Ibid, 4. art. 3. q. 1. 39. We have now therefore collected, sufficiently for our purpose, the judgment of theologians belonging to all the great schools of Theology; though we might most easily have continued them indefinitely. Certainly (to say the very least) it is most permissible that any Catholic may hold a doctrine, which has such extremely strong testimony in its favour. It will have been observed however, that the quo- tations from Lessius, and the chief of those from Lugo, occur in arguments, put forth by those writers under somewhat questionable circumstances. For they are directed towards a conclusion, which bears some con- siderable resemblance to the proposition, condemned by Alexander VIIL after their time, on the subject of Philosophical Sin. And still more, in looking at that proposition itself, it might be at first sight supposed by unwary readers, that the principle of intrinsic morality is therein censured. I will treat the matter directly^ in reference to the proposition itself; and will introduce incidentally what it is necessary to say, on Lessius and Lugo. The condemned proposition is the following : — " Peccatum philosophicum seu morale est actus humanus disconveniens naturse rational! et rectce rationi : theologicum verb et mortale est transgressio libera divinte legis. Philosophi- cum, quantiimvis grave, in illo, qui Deum vel ignorat, vel de Deo actu non cogitat, est grave peccatum, sed non est ofFensa Dei, neque seterna poena dignum." — Denzinger, p. 344. Now tliere is no fact more undoubtedly certain in 88 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. all Theology, than that the first sentence of this pro- position, wliicli defines the term ' Philosophical Sin,' was * never imagined by any one to fall nnder the Church's censure. Nothing is more common, in the case of condemned propositions, than such a procedure as the following. A statement is selected from some unsound theologian, which contains the recital of an undoubted premiss; and also of some false conclusion, which he sophistically endeavours to build upon that jDremiss. The Church condemns the whole statement, proutjacet: not meaning of course to throw the slightest discredit on the undoubted premiss; but intending to brand (firstly) the conclusion itself, and (secondly) the allegation, that such a conclusion can follow from such a premiss. I repeat, there is no fact more certain in all Theology, than that this is the case here. Indeed there is a special reason in this instance, for inserting the first sentence as well as the second ; viz. that unless it be so inserted, the very meaning of the second sentence is wholly unintelligible. Now then to shew the truth of what I have stated ; to shew that this first sentence, which declares that the mere repugnancy to right reason suffices to constitute a sin, was never thought by any one to fall under the Pope's condemnation. One consideration strikes us on the very surface. It was but a short time before this censure, that the Church condemned those other two propositions, which were cited at the beginning of this Section. Those were then censured, w^io refused to admit that certain definite offences are sinful intrinsecalli)^ apart from the Divine Prohibition. It would be strange indeed, if only eleven years afterwards, the whole notion, that anything whatever could be sinful intrinsecally apart from the Divine Prohibition, had been condemned in one sweeping decree. In addition to the inherent impossibility of such a supposition, we will adduce three arguments ; any one of which will amply suffice to shew, that the case is very far otherwise. ( 1. ) The Pontiff, Alexander VIII. expressly declares in his decree, that the proposition before us was a new CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 89 proposition.* Now no one (I believe) of any opinions whatever lias so much as suggested the notion, that the intrinsic 'malitia' of immorality, irrespectively of God's will, was a new doctrine in the time of Alexander VIII. We have seen on the other hand that Suarez considers it as St. Thomas's, and as the connnon senti- ment of theologians. And Dmowski tells us, that those Protestants who object to it, are so far from calling it new^ that they clamour against it as an invention of the Catholic scholastics. f (2.) There was at one time a great controversy raised against the Jesuits, by many who maintained, that certain Jesuit doctrines lead by necessary con- sequence to this condemned proposition. Against which of the Jesuit doctrines was this charge adduced ? Against the doctrine, that morality is intrinsecally obli- gatory apart from God's commandment? So far was this from being the case, that on the contrary the independent existence of morality was for the most part admitted on both sides as a Jirst pi'inciple in the dispute. The Jesuit propositions attacked had reference to the kind or degree of advertence reqwired in rnortal sin. Every one knows this well, who is at all acquainted with the controversies of tliat time; but one quotation will put it beyond doubt. No one will doubt that F. Buffier, whom we have seen so earnestly contending for first truths, regarded the first principles of morality as contained in the class. Now this same F. Buffier was accused of holding, by implication at least, the error of Philosophical Sin. In regard to which statement of his was this charge made? in regard to any statement concerning the intrinsic character of morality? Nothing of the kind: the statements to which exception was taken, referred without exception to the advertence * Viva, vol. iv. p. 3. ' Sanctissimus D. N. Alexander Papa Octavus non sine magno animi sui moerore audivit duas theses seu propositiones, imam denuo et in majorem fideliuni pernicieni suscitari, alteram de novo erumpere.^ It is this second which concerns Philosophical Sin. t ' Pufendorfius tanquam inventum scholasticorum respuit difFerentiam istam moralium actionum, scilicet : . . . quasdam esse pro- hibitas quia malae et quasdam malas quia prohibitse.' 90 PHILOSOPHICAL INTHODUCTION. required for mortal sin. The following is his disavowal of the charge, as related by Serry in his history of the congregation " De Auxiliis:" — " Secundum hsec nuperrime prouunciavit Illustrissimus Rotho- magensium Archiepiscopus, dum P. Buffierum Jesuitam, a quo idem ille Peccati Philosophici insanus error sparse per Norman- niam libello recusus fuerat, solenni decreto daninavit ; jussitque ut scripto publico hisce duabus propositionibus, inter multas alias, subscriberet, in obsequentis ac pcenitentis animi fidem. 1. Quod spectat ad Peccatiim PhilosopJdcitm, damno quod Summus Pon- tifex Alexander VIII. Decreto suo damnavit 24 Augusti 1690. Ipse autein privatim agnosco (id Jesuitce jam puhlice agnoverunt in sententia sua publice scripto edita super Peccato Philosophico) non esse necessarium actu attendere aniinurn ad rtialitiam actioiiis, ut peccato imputetur. 2. Obcjecati et indurati peccatores, qui cades, adulteria et alia scelera, sine ullo conscientije stimulo perpetraut, ne minime quidem cogitantes hujusniodi sceleribus offendi a se Deum, aut hsec contraria esse Legi Naturali, nihilo- minus merentur poenas inferoruni : nee quod actu non attendant ad malitiam actionis, ideo peccati rnortalis rei non sunt " (lib. iii. c. 48). You see, the whole matter turns on this question of advertence as on a hinge. (3.) Thirdly, consider how absolutely atrocious is the statement contained in the condemned proposition. The condemned writer by no means confines his state- ment to invincible ignorance or invincible inadvertence. No : according to him, any sinner in the world, whose will is so utterly alienated from his True End, that in committing the greatest enormities he forgets his Creator altogether — such a sinner is ipso facto exempt from the guilt and from the penalties of mortal sin. Can any one credit, that the Pontiff, having so frightful a proposition to censure, not content with smiting it, should travel out of his way to pronounce a judgment on a (juestion most totally distinct ; a question wdiich no one on either side of the existing controversy had (I believe) so much as raised? Lugo and Lessius were very far indeed from holding so extreme a position. At the same time I must frankly profess, that I do regard tlie doctrine on advertence. CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 91 held by them and by some few other Jesuits, as leading hi) necessan/ consequence to this condemned propo- sition.* I hope, therefore, to argue against that doc- trine, on this very ground as well as on others, in the appropriate part of our theological course. Serry, in the passage immediately preceding that already quoted, confirms what I have said in the amplest manner ; declaring that the whole doctrine of Philoso- phical Sin, both in its first inventor and his followers, turned wliolly on the question of advertence as on a hinge. "Nemo quippe est qui non videat, errorem hunc ab Alex- andre proscriptum, eo iit monui principio veluti cardine niti, quo larsi illi ac liberales Gratiarum Sufficientium distributores f'abu- lantur, nuHuin re ips^ veri nominis peccatum admitti, nullam- que Deo offeusam inferri geterna poena plectendam, nisi prcBvid illustratione animus perfundatur, internaque excitatione pulsetur humana voluntas. Inimo non alio ilium argumento muniebat, in dictatis scriptis, Professor Theologus Divionensis, a quo in publicani Thesium kicem editus est ; nee aho principio nitebantur illi ipsij quos assertionis suae magistros ac duces proi'erebat." Finally, the only commentators on condemned pro- positions with whom I am acquainted, are these three ; Van Ranst, Milante, Viva. Now all these agree in either implying or expressly declaring, that our doc- trine of independent morality is not in any way affected by this condemnation. Thus Van Ranst : — " Hac in propositione duo expendenda sunt. Primh supponit ilia, dari posse ignorantiam Dei invincihilem, proindeque a peccato excusantem. Secundo requirit ad theologice peccandum actu- alem de Deo cogitationem. Primum liquet ex verbis istis, ' philo- sopliicum, quantumvis grave in illo, qui Deum ignorat :' alterum in sequentibus, ' vel de Deo actu non cogitat.' " Dari non posse ignorantiam invincibilem Dei, assei'it ha;c stupenda moles universi, certatim pra^dicans, Dei notitiam homini esse insitam, ingenitam, implantatam, inseminatam. Haec est vis verge Divinitatis, inquit Doctorum Aquila (tr. 106 in Joan.), ut creaturse rationali, jam ratione utenti, non omnino ac penitus possit abscondi. Adeoque nequit dari ignorantia Dei invincibilis, et consequenter inculpabilis. Hinc dicitur Ps. Ixxviii. ' Eftunde * Which was condemned, however, after their death. 92 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. iram tuam in Gentes, quge te non noverunt ;' et tamen cognoscere potuerunt. Ruit igitur Peccatum Philosopliicuni, quod in prce- fatd potissimum ignorantia fundabatur. " Cseterum fuerunt iionnulli, qui ipsum Doctorem Angelicum, hujus erroris (ut vidimus) prgedebellatorem, in illius patronum vocare non sunt veriti; ob ilia, qvise habet 2, 2, q. 20, art. 3, in Corp. ' Si posset esse conversio ad bonum commutabile sine aver- sione a Deo, quamvis esset inordinata, non esset peccatum mortale.' Sed quis hie non videat, D. Thomam (ut alia ad textum loci oportuna praeteream) loqui hypothetice ? in hypothesi scilicet, quod detur ignorantia Dei invincibilis ? In tali enim siippositio7ie, peccatum non esset theologicvm (cum ignorantia invincibilis a pec- cato excuset) sed mere philosophicum. " ' Bene est,' inquiebant Peccati Philosophici defensores : ' theo- * logi nostri defendunt banc propositionem dumtaxat de Peccato ' Philosophico, si, vel quando, existentia Dei invincibiliter ignora- * retur, adeoque in hypothesi jam allegata ; proinde nos Alexan- * drina non involvit condemnatio.' " Sed qnantus hie error, et cgecitas ! Certe Alexander VIII. non feriit propositionem conditionatam, sed absolutam ; non feriit phantasma, sed rem ipsam. Sic et fulmen Apostolicum non fuit vibratum in phantasma Jansenii (ut filii iniquitatis volebant), sed in haeresim Jansenianam revera talem. En verba Alexandri VIII. * Peccatum Philosophicum, quantumvis grave, in illo qui Deum vel ignorat' (ecce ignorantia absoluta non conditionata) ' vel de eo actu non cogitat, est grave peccatum, sed non est offensa Dei,' &c. " Superest consideranda actualis de Deo cogitatio ; quam famosi istius Peccati Philosophici assertores ad theologice peccandum requiri sustinebant. " Sane illam non requiri, sed verh,formaUter, et theologice peccare eum, qui de Deo actib non cogitat, luce meridiana clarius ex Sacris patet Oraculis. ' Exacerbavit Dominum peccator,' Ps. ix. Sed cur exacerbavit? Fuitne semper in illo actualis de Deo cogi- tatio ? Semperne fuit Deus in conspectu ejus, alioquin non pec- caturi? Minime vero : imo Jioc ipsum ei jure merito exprohratur, et peccato vertitur, quod de Deo non cogitdrit, seu Deum oculis suis non prasfixerit. 'Non est Deus in conspectu ejus.' Eodem Ps. v. 26. " Delude : si ad theologies peccandum semper actualis de Deo, aut de peccati, quod Deum infinite offendit, malitia cogitatio requireretur, nonne innumeri Athei, Machiavellopolitici, et consue- tudinarii, in ci'iminum voraginem, sine ulld Dei vel malitia con- sideratione, se pracipita7ites, a peccatis eximerentur ? " Solida docet Theologia, ad peccatum requiri et sujicere, quhd quis potuerit et debuerit de Deo cogitare, vel reflectere ad Deum, aut ad gravitatem peccati infinitam involventis malitiam : quod- que ad ilia omnia non reflexerit. CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 93 " Sed ecce errorem, quasi suis exortum temporibus, formalis- sim6 damnatum ab Angelico 1, 2, q. 74, a. 7, ad. 2. ' Ratio superior,' inquit, seu mens ' dicitur consentire in peccatum, sive cogitet de Lege iEterna' (quae Deus est) 'sive non.'" In like manner Milante: — " Ex tarn infami confixo dogmate, a theologica. culpa exiniitur, qui, actu non cogitans de Deo, Ejus praecepta conculcat. Qua- propter dubio procul nemo felicius faciliusque Veneri et sensui indvdget, qiiam perditissimus quisque homo, qui, assuetus peccata peccatis addere, certe nee de Deo actu cogitat, nee Deum pertimes- cit, cinn peccat obduratus in malo " Qucestio igitur est in prcesenti de sold ignorantid Juris Na- turae, prajsertim de ignorantia, Dei; an hcvc possibilis sit in facto? an, ciim possibilis sit, sit quoque invincihilis dicenda ? et iterum an peccans cum hac ignorantia de Deo, vel Deum non advertens Ejusque injuriam non respiciens in actu pravo, committat pec- catum pliilosopliicum itd sejunctum d theologico, ut ex illius, non vero ex istius, deformitate reus sit judicandus ? Quo ex momento, dum ejus peccatum ex praefato modo operandi est duntaxat plii- losopliicum, qui illud comniittit non est dignus aeterna poena, quia Deum suo actu peccaminoso non ofFendit. /?i hoc quidem, ut nuper indigitavi, cardo difficidtatis est situs.'''' Next, let us see Viva's statement : — " Quod vero attinet ad doctorum sententias de Peccato Plii- losophico ; certum in primis est, Alexandrum VIII. in hac thesi noluisse damnare, quce in antiquis, et gravibiLS theologis de hoc peccato scripta legimus; aliter non diceret, thesim banc de novo erupisse. Docuerunt autem plurimi primag notje scriptores absolute esse simpliciter impossibile (sive metaphysice, sive saltern moraliter), peccatum pure philosophicum. Addendo tamen, veluti hypothetice ac speculative, quod si per impossibile quis haberet invincibilem Dei ig-norantiam, aut de Deo actu invincihiliter nul- latenus, ne implicit^ qiddem, cogitaret, dum advertit f'urtum v. g. esse rationi dissonmn, in tali casu peccatum non foret Dei ofFensa, nee peccatum theologicum, sed pure philosophicimi ; eo quod im- possibile sit Deum offendi, nisi aliquo modo cognoscatur Et in hoc duntaxat sensu hypothetico, nonnulli Societatis Pro- fessores, vestigiis tantorum virorum inhterentes, idipsum in suis thesibus propugnarunt ; rejiciendo semper absolute, cum iisdem auctoribus, saltern moralem possibilitatem Peccati Philosophic!." — Viva, n. 3. Viva tells us, you see, that, according to ' plurimi primae notse scriptores,' if a man could be invincibly ignorant or inadvertent of God's Prohibition, lie might 94 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. nevertheless advert to the fact that theft, e. g. is con- trary to reason ; and that, committing theft with such advertence, he would really sin : yai that such sin would be philosophical and not theological. And Viva further says, ' It is certain that Alexander VIII. never intended to condemn' this opinion. 40. This leads me to Viva's own statement, on the relation between God and moral obligation. It is quite different from Suarez's, and will be understood by the following extracts from his work on the " Theses Damnatge :" — " Diversimode est dissonum mendacium Deo, et homini ; esto in utroque sit moraliter malum, per difformitatem cum DivinS. Vokmtate, quse est prima regula morum. Etenim Deo ita est dissonum, ut etiam sit metaphysice impossibile; quia Deus a propria natura, quas essentialiter est cumulus omnium perfec- tionum, determinatur, sicut ad amandum Semetipsum, ita ad odio habendum quod est intrinsece makim, seu quod argueret imper- fectionem in Divina V^ohintate, si ab ilia amaretur; ut est men- dacium, odium Dei, perjurium, et similia: et idcirco, ut hsec sint illicita Deo, non debent a lege superiore ipsi vetari, sed sufficit, qi^iod essentialiter sint contra ipsius Dei voluntatem, metaphysics determinatam ad bonum." — De Peccato Philosophico, n. 11. " Quamvis cognitio explicite attingens peceatum ut dissonum naturae rationali, non eatenus attingat explicite illud ut trans- gressivum Divina3 Legis, — nihilominus repugnat, quod peceatum sub illo priori conceptu attingatur, quin simul attingatur implicite sub hoc secundo, quantum satis est ad quemdam contemptum Divinaj Legis, atque adeo ad offensam Dei. Ergo metaphysice repugnat peceatum mortale pure philosophicum, quod Divinam Amicitiam non dissolvat, nee sit Dei offensa. Antecedens probatur, quia prascise per hoc quod peceatum attingatur explicite ut dis- conveniens naturae rationali et rectfe rationi, attingitur implicite ut ilHcitum, atque adeo ut prohibitum, et nullatenus patrandum. Ergo etiam attingitur implicite ut oppositum Divinte Voluntati illud prohibenti; atque adeo ut contemptivum DivinfeProhibitionis, et ut Dei offensa. Probatur haac consequentia, quia quoties peceatum apparet ut prohibitum ita ut nullatenus liceat, apjjaret ut prohibitum ab eS. voluntate, quje unice potest illud prohibere; atijid sola Dei Lex et Voluntas j'olest peceatum prohibere, ita ut nullatenus liceat, quihuscumque creaturis illud suadentihiis aut jyrce- cipientibus ; ei'go quoties peceatum aj)]iaret ut omnino prohibi- tum, apparet etiam oppositum Divina3 Voluntati illud prohibenti, atque adeo contemptivum Divinse Legis. Quod autem confusa CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 95 ista et iniplleita advertentia adDivinain Prohibitionem sufficiat ad contrahendum reatum odii Divini, atque adeo dissolvendam Divi- nam Ainicitiaiii, — ex eo patet, quia sicut, in omnium sententia, qui invincibiliter in sjlvis enutritus nunquain audivit de poenee aeter- nitate, aut ad ilium non advertit dum peccat, si vere advertit ad Dei offensani, adhuc sit reus poenjE a2tern;x>, per hoc precise quod consentiendo in culpam iinj)licite consentiat in poenam illi annexam natura sua, etiamsi non habeat claram notitiam de feternitate poenae debita : ita qui in sylvis enutritus invincibiliter nunquam audivit de Dei Existentia, aut ad ilium non advertit dum peccat, si vere advertit ad dissonantiam culpie cum natura rationali et cum rationis dictamine, atque adeo ad prohibitionem sibi f'actam ab aliquo Superiore ita ut nullatenus possit ea operatio sibi licere quibuscumquecreaturis ad illam impellentibus, adhuc fit reus odii Divini ; per hoc pra^cise, quod consentiendo in operationem illam sibi interdictam, implicite consentiat in violationem Legis prohi- bentis, atque adeo in contemptuni talis Voluntatis; etiamsi careat clara notitia, quod Lex seu Voluntas illam prohibens sit Voluntas DIvina, unde Deus contemnatur : et consequenter metaphysice repugnat peccatum pure philosophicum, quod non sit Dei oti'ensa, nee Ejus Amicitiam rescindat." — Ihid. n. 9. Viva, I should add, expressly states (as indeed we have seen already) that this view of his is only one out of those held in the Catholic Schools ; and that the other view also is maintained by ' plurimi primae not^e scriptores.' — (See nn. 3 and 12.) " Illud solum ad qujestionem speculativam spectat : num ea, quae sunt mala ah intrinseco, forraaliter habeant rationem peccati, seu mali moraliter ac inhonesti, per oppositionem cum Lege pro- hibente, an vero per disconvenientiam cum natura rationali ? Qua in re communius decent, per disconvenientiam cum natura rationali esse tantum fundamentaliter peccata, et habere solam prohihenditatem, seu e.vigentiam ut jyrohibeantur ; formalem vero peccati rationem habere, per violationem Legis prohibentis: ut proinde carerent malitid formali, si non prohiberentur, sive possibile sit ea positive non prohiberi a Deo, sive impossibile ; quod verius censeo cum Suar. lib. ii. de Leg. c. 6, contra Okanum, et alios. Quinimmo arbitrior esse metaphysice, nedum moraliter, im- possibile, quod homo Deum, saltem ut Supremum Legislatorem, ignoret, aut de Illo actu non cogitet, dum ponit operationem, quam advertit esse naturae rationali disconvenientem." — In Props. 48 et 49 Innocent XL, n. L You will see from these extracts that, according to Viva, the source of moral obligation is simply God's 96 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. necessary Command. In other words (to take his own instances), we are morally obliged to avoid lying and perjury, for this reason and for no other whatever; viz. that God by the necessity of His Nature forbids such acts. Of late years several Catholic philosophers seem to have adopted this view. In regard to the theolo- gians known by Viva himself, there are only two (I think) whom he quotes by name as favourable to his doctrine, viz. Curiel and Zumel; neither of them cer- tainly being very eminent names : and this, though Viva himself is about the latest in date of the great scholastic writers. At the same time he calls his own the most common opinion ;* while frankly admitting that the other doctrine (which I have followed throughout) is held by 'plurimi primge notse scriptores.'f This doctrine of Viva's must not be confounded with another, which at first sight greatly resembles it, and which I have mentioned in n. 22. According; to that other doctrine, the moral obligation of avoiding mendacity, e. g. and perjury, arises from the fact that God is necessitated by His Nature to detest those vices. But, according to Viva, His Detestation of them does not suffice for imposing on us any moral obligation ; there must be a direct Command prohibiting them. In regard to the former doctrine (you may remember) I said that it may be taken in two very different senses ; and that, taken in one of those senses, I most strongly incline to it as true. But of Viva's statement I can imagine no such favourable interpretation ; it seems to me absolutely intolerable, absolutely self-contradictory, in any imaginable sense which it can possibly bear. In behalf of this adverse criticism, I thus argue. God is necessitated to prohibit lying and perjury ; or in other words. He is not free to withhold that pro- hibition. So far Viva agrees with Suarez and the great body of theologians. Whij is God not free to with- * "De Peccato Philosophico," n. 8. This statement however comes to very little ; it is so very coininon a tendency of theologians, to regard their own opinion as the most common. t Ibid. u. 3. CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 97 hold that Prohibition ? Of course ' because to do so would be repugnant to His essential sanctity.' Why would it be thus repugnant ? ' Because lying and perjury are intrinsecally evil.' But why are lying and perjury intrinsecally evil? If you say ' simply because God has prohibited them^ then Viva's argument comes to this; 'God is \\q\. free to withhold the Prohibition ' of such acts, simply because He has in fact prohibited ' them : ' than which a more absurd statement cannot be imagined. Viva then must admit, that lying and perjury are intrinsecally evil, for some reason wholly distinct from God's Prohibition ; but then this is pre- cisely the logical contradictory to his original assertion. Whatever is intrinsecally evil, we are morally obliged on that ground to avoid. If then lying and perjury are intrinsecally evil^ for reasons wholly independent of God's Prohibition ; — then we are morally obliged to avoid thern., for reasons wholly independent of God's Prohibition. And this is the thesis which Viva ex- pressly denies. Indeed, if we examine his language with any care, we shall soon see how false is his position. No abler or subtler theologian can easily be found, among the whole body of scholastics ; and yet see how vaguely and confusedly he speaks. Does he, or does he not, hold that lying and perjury are intrinsecally evil, apart from God's Prohibition ? No consistent answer can possibly be given. In the last extract, he says that they are not formally evil; ' carerent malitid formally si non pro- hiberentur :' yet in that very passage he calls them ' mala ab intrinseco ;' and he says in the first of the three extracts, that they are ' intrinsece mala.' What distinction of ideas can possibly be imagined, answering to this distinction of words, between ' formaliter mala' on the one hand, and ' intrinsece mala' on the other hand? He says that, apart from God's Prohibition, such acts are so intrinsecally evil, that they are ' illicita Deo ;' and that the not detesting them would be repugnant to His Sanctity. (First Extract.) If they H 98 PHILOSOrillCAL INTRODUCTION. are ' unhiAvful to God,'' I suppose they are unlawful to us ; if the not detesting them would he repugnant to sanctity in the Creator, so would it also he in the creature. If then certain acts, apart altogether from God's Prohihition, are ' unlawful to us,' and ' repugnant to sanctity,' what imaginahle sense can there he in denying that they are ' formaliter mali?' Then, Viva's second extract simply takes for granted the whole question at issue. He assumes that nothing can he morally evil, until it is prohihited ; and then proves (easily enough) that, on such an hypothesis, the Prohihitor must be of Infinite Authority. ' Quoties,' he says, ' peccatum apparet ita prohibitum ' ut nullatenus liceat, apparet prohibitum ab Ea Vo- ' luntate, Qua3 unice potest illud prohibere.' But his opponents maintain, that many things are so mo7Ydly evil ' ut nullatenus liceant,' without reference to any prohibition whatever : to this allegation, which alone concerns him, he does not, throughout the extract, so much as allude. All the arguments of the previous Section have in fact been arguments against Viva's doctrine. We have been opposing ourselves to the proposition, that God's Will is the source of morality; and all our reasoning applies to His necessary, no less than to His free, Will. Yet it seemed worth while also, to give some special consideration, to this special phase of the view antagonistic to ours. Viva, you see, holds quite decidedly the intrinsic necessity of moral truth ; and is so far adducible in our favour. You will ask perhaps, this being so, why I have been so eager and peremptory in repudiating his state- ment. I reply, because, though he does hold this great doctrine, he holds it inconsistently: because he gives an opening to its enemies, of which they will not be slow to take advantage : because his doctrine leads, by necessary consequence, to that very proposition which he would himself abhor; viz. that God's /ree Command is at last the source and the measure of all morality. CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 99 No one has a more grateful sense than myself, of the most important services conferred by Viva on Theology ; no one more highly appreciates his rare mental gifts. But it will happen now and then to the best theologians, that they incautiously admit some statement, the full bearing and consequences of which they have by no means duly considered. It may be questioned, at first sight, whether Gerdil does not hold the opinion maintained by Viva, that the obligation of morality depends on God's necessary Will. For in one or two places he lays stress on the state- ment, that it does not depend on His free Will : ' why,' it may be asked, ' does he add the word^ree, except to contradistinguish it from necessary V It is quite clear however, on careful consideration, that he does not hold this. For first indeed, he says so in as many words ; he expressly states, that the mere knowledge of the just and unjust suffices to establish obligation* And secondly, the one thesis which he labours throughout to establish is, that moral truth is necessary, in the very same sense in which mathematical truth is so. Now no one ever imagined, that mathematical truth originates in the necessary Will of God, any more than in His free will. Every other theologian whom we have cited, with one exception, says expressly, that the obligation of avoiding what is intrinsecally wrong is ' independens a Dei Voluntate,' or words to that effect ; not ' Voluntate necessarid,' but ' Voluntate' simply. This may be seen at once, by looking back at their statements. The one exception is Berti, who does not seem to have considered this precise question. With Viva I close my extracts from theological w^riters ; which I could have indefinitely increased indeed, but that there seemed no reason for doing so. Further quotations however will be made from them in a later Section, on the question of dispensation from the Natural Law ; quotations which will place their meaning (if possible) in even a clearer light. * See the passage quoted in note to n. 19, p. 42. 100 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. All these theological quotations indeed appertain, in strict propriety, to our theological course, rather than to our philosophical. But it seemed important at once to shew, how very strong is the theological authority on which we rest, in this most important and fundamental doctrine. 41. I will now give specimens of the treatment which this question receives, in the philosophical com- pendia, or other school treatises, now in use among Catholics. Of these, no one enjoys a higher reputa- tion, than the " Prselectiones Philosophicse" used at S. Sulpice. Nothing can be clearer or more convincing than the statements which we here find : — " Thesis Secunda — Discrimen honi et mali a Voluntate Dei, sive libera sive necessarid, non est repetendum. " Prob. prima pars, nempe discrimen istud a libera Dei Voluntate repeti non posse. — Vel enira bonum est Deo aliquid ut bonum jubenti obtemperare, mahim vero illi resistere ; vel non. Si prius : ergo ante Dei liberum decretum boni et mah discrimen instituens, jam bonum et malum existebat; quod ad- versariorum hypothesi prorsus opponitur. Si posterius : ergo bonum et malum etiam nunc mdlateniis discriminantur. Posito enim quod malum non sit decreto divino resistere, malum igitur non erit ayere quod prohibet ut malum ; porro quod sine malo effici potest, malum dici nequit. Ergo, &c. " Prob. secunda pars, nempe discrimen boni et mali a Voluntate Dei necessarid desumi non posse. — Etenim Voluntas Dei necessaria nihil efficit, nisi juxta Lumen Idearum Divinarum, Non potuit igitur Deus boni et mali discrimen statuere per suam Voluntatem necessariam, nisi illud discrimen jam in suis ideis intellexisset. Porro quidquid Deus intelligit, eo ipso realitatem habet; alioquin veritate carerent Conceptus Divini. Ergo Actus Voluntatis neces- sarige, quo Deus discrimen boni et mali determinavisse dicei'etur, hoc discrimen jam existens supponeret. Ergo," &c.* — N. 1492, pp. 75, 76 of vol. iii. 42. The present professor of Moral Philosophy at the Roman College, is Solimani ; whose authority is very highly thought of. No words can he clearer, no argu- ments more forcible, than those which he adduces on this matter: — * This iirgunicnt will be found enforced in the Appendix to Chap. I., * On the llelation between God and Necessary Truth,' which is printed at the end of this book. CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE TRECEDING SECTION. 101 " Extare aliquod principium, ex quo in hominem obligatio descenclat, ita facile demonstratnr : si nullum est principium, ex quo in hominem obligatio derivetur, homo plenam habet libertatem moralem. Atqui hoc dici nequit. Etenim si homo plena poUeret hbertate morali, nullum existeret inter actiones humanas morale discrimen ; nullus esset moralis ordo in humanis actionibus ex rationis pra^scripto servandus ; quamobrem, quidquid homo ageret, nunquam esset laudandus, nunquam culpandus, nunquam prsemio, nunquam poena, dignus censendus. Jam vero id communi homi- num sensui plane repugnat. Omnes enim inter humanas actiones morale aonoscunt discrimen : omnes contendunt esse ordinem quemdam moralem in iisdem servandum. Nemo est, vel mter eos qui cupiditatibus indulgere solent, qui non maxim^ laudet hominem corpori animum proferentem, pravis animi motibus frasna injicientem, animo excolendo ac perficiendo intendentem, modum denique atque ordinem in dictis factisque suis omnibus perpetuo servantem ; qui non culpet eum, qui contrariam huic vivendi rationem tenet. Atque htec quidem laudare aut culpare homines consueverunt, non modo in aliis, sed etiam in seipsis licet inviti; interna saltern ilia naturce voce, quam nullus compescere penitiis posset. " Conjice, inquit Genevensis philosophus, conjice oculos in omnes late populos, versa omnes historias. In tam ingenti reh'gi- onum plane crudelium atque absiirdarum multitudine, in tanta morum atque ingeniorum varietate, easdem ubique justitise atque honestatis ideas, eadem ubique morum principia, easdem ubique boni et mali notiones, sine dubio deprehendes, Vana Ethnicorum superstitio infandos peperit Deos, qui, scelestorum more, meritam apud nos subituri fuissent poenam, quique in exemplum supreme cujusdam felicitatis non aliud prse se ferebant, quam flagitia omnigena admittenda, pravasque omnes cupiditates explendas. At vitium, sacra licet instructum auctoritate, ex a?ternis coeli sedibus nequaquam ad nos descendebat ; nam instructus quidam moralis illud ab humanis pectoribus usque repulsabat. Homines 60 ipso tempore, quo effronatam Jovis libidinem celebrabant, prceclaram Xenocratis pudicitiam admirabantur. Sancta nature vox, ipso Deorum exemplo validior, hominum obsequia in terris sibi vindicabat, culpamque, una cum iis qui ilia inficiebantur, in supernas coeli regiones relegasse quodammodo videbatur. Est igitur in intimis animi nostri recessibiis innata qucedam justiticB ac virtutis norma, ex qua, contra ipsa, quibus imbuti sumus, praijudicia, tum nostras, tum aliorum actiones, rectas vel pravas esse decernimus. "Ci^mi igitur inter humanas actiones aliquod agnoscendum sit morale discrimen, atque homines plena careant libertate morali, agnoscendum quoque est aliquod principium, ex quo ad eos profluit obligatio. 102 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. " Hujusmodi prmcipium, spectato naturce 07'dine, quemlihet Volmt' tatis Divince prcecipientis actum antecedit. Id vero hac rati one ostendi posse arbitravnur : ])rincipium obligationis noii est aliud, quam norma quwdam, ohligandi vi prcedita. At vero admittenda est hujusmodi norma, quae quovis Voluntatis Divince prcecipientis actu prior sit. Eteiiira quaadam sunt sudpte naturd moraliter bona; quaedam vero ita moraliter mala, ut bona fieri nullo modo possint. Atqui rerwn naturae quovis Rationis ac Voluntatis Divinte actu priores sunt. Neque enim res ideb tcdes sunt, quia Deus cognoscit ac vult eas tales esse ; sed contra Deus ideo cognoscit ac vult res esse tales, quia tcdes sudpte naturd sunt. Ita circulus non ideo radios habet inter se jequales, qida Deus cognoscit ac vult in circulo earn radiorum fequalitatem ; sed contra Deus ideo cognoscit ac vult illam circuli proprietatem, quia in intimd circuli naturd necessario ilia continetur. Hinc est quod Deus rebus quidem existentiam dare aut recusare pro arhitrio potest; intimam autem naturam mutai'e nequit. Q.UDe igitur, in genere morum, bona sunt vel mala, sudpte naturd ea talia sunt, ante quemlibet Rationis ac Voluntatis Divitice actum. Jam vero nihil est bonum aut malum in genere morum, nisi comparate ad aliquam normwn, quce ohligandi virtute sit prcedita. Nam boiuim morale positum est in conformitate cum norma quadam vere obligante, malum autem morale in discrepantia ab eadem. Normam, inquam, vere obligantem : siquidem qusecumque alia norma, quantumvis sapiens atque honesta, bonum malumve morale metiri nequit. Neque enim ideo bene agimus, quia consilium liominis pruden- tissimi sequimur ; neque, si non sequimur, idcirco in aliquam incidimus culpam. Nullum igitur bonum au.t malum morale concipi animo potest, quin simul concipiatur norma ohligandi vi prcedita, ad quam illud necessario refer tur. Atqui nos facile apprehendimus bonum malumque in genere morum suapte natura tale, ante quemcumque Rationis ac Voluntatis Divinse actum. Ergo admittenda est aliqua norma virtute ohligandi instructa, quse omnem Voluntatis Divince prcecipientis actum re ipsa prcecedat. " Et sane antequam Deus quidquam homini prsecipiat, plenum profecto habet ac perfectum pracipiendi jus: hujusmodi enim jus in ipso Creatoris Providentissimi Attributo intime continetur ; ratio autem Creatoris quocumque prascipiendi actu natura prior est. Atqui pleno illi ac perfecto prsecipiendi juri, quo pollet Deus, plenum seque ac perfectum obtemperandi officium neces- sario respondet in homine. Hsec enim duo, scilicet jus prasci- piendi atque obtemperandi officium, inter se coa^quantur, atque ita sunt invicem connexa, ut alterum sine altero intelligi nullo pacto possit. Igitur non modo illud Dei jus, sed etiam hoc hominis ojficimn, cpiocumque Divino Prcecejyto naturci piius est. Re- vera quemadmodum jus illud in Attributo Creatoris, ita officium hoc in ipsa creaturce conditione, qutc qu.ovis Dei Pra3cepto per se CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 103 antei'ior est, intime continetur. Porro lioc officium, quo omnes homines ad parendum Deo perf'ecte obstringuntur, quid qugeso aliud est, quam vera qucedam ac proprie dicta obligatio ? Igitur ante quodvis Dei Prteceptum, vera concipitur esse obligatio, ac proinde aliqua etiam verce ohligationis effectrix norma. Sane si aiitequam Deus quidpiam nobis proiciperet, vera nos obligatione, ad Ejus Pro'xepta implenda, minime teneremur, omnem Illi obedientiam jure Optimo recusare possemus ; quemadmodum omnem homini cui- libet obedientiam abriiiere meritb possiimus, si, antequam is aliquid juheat, vera nos obligatione ad jussa ejus facessenda nequaquam ob- stringimurJ'^ — Vol. i. pp. 175-178. 43. Dmowski is another Roman writer, and one who enjoys a great name. His remarks on tlie ques- tion before us shall here follow : — " Inter antiques, Epicurei cieterique, de quibus Tullius, omnia voluptate vel utilitate dimetientes, boni et mali moralis, lionesti et inhonesti, naturale discrimen sustulerunt. Eorum vestigia premunt plerique recentiores impii ; inter quos Spinosa, et Hob- besius, (tarn in libro de Give quam in Leviathan,) ab opinionibus arbitrariis hominum, vel ab arbitraria legum civilium constitu- tione, hoc discrimen repetit. Pufendorfius, quem sequuntur Coc- cejus et ex parte Heineccius, arbitratur discrimen hoc a libera Dei Voluntate et Lege Positivd pendere ; it^ ut tanquam inventum scJiolasticorum respuat differentiam istam moralium actionum, scilicet, quasdam esse pro'ceptas quia sunt bonce, quasdam vero bonas quia prseceptse ; et item, quasdam esse proliibitas quia malce, quasdam vero malas quia prohibitas. Adversus hos omnes gene- ratim probabimus, dari intrinsecum discrimen inter bonum et malum morale ; quasdam morales actiones esse bonas et honestas, alias malas et turpes, citra omnem reflexionem ad ullam legem humanam, vel etiam Positivam Divinam a libera Dei Voluntate manantem. " Ad pleniorem qujestionis intelligentiam advertendum est, hypothesim istam, in qua statuitur, aliquas actiones esse ita mo- raliter bonas, aliquas ita malas, ut etiamsi per impossibile Deus illas noyi prceciperet has non vetaret, adhuc remanerent tales, con- venientes scilicet vel repugnantes naturali rationi, — esse abstrac- tionem mentalem, prcescindentem a Deo, minime autem exclu- dentem eum, supponentemque rationalem naturam sicuti est, conformatam. Cum absurdum prorsus videatur, exclusa omni absoluta ac immutabili realitate et ordine ejusque fundamento, velle adhuc disputare de convenientia et discrepantia aliquarum realitatum et ordinis, easque admittere ; prresertim quod nee con- cipi valeant humani actus ut proprie morales, ante ipsam quoque rationem spectatam velut naturalem eorum normam. 104 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. " Assertio, sic explicata, pluribus evincitur argumentis. Primo, ex supposita doctorum distinctione, inter actlones prohibitas quia malae, et malas quia prohibitoe; qua3 distinctio comnnini sensu probatur, cum etiamsi Dwinam aut humanam legem cogitatione removeamics, adhuc unicuique turpe ac malum videri debeat, a ra- tionis reguld rectoque ordine declinare, honestum ac bonum utrique suas actiones confermare ; bonum enim est vmicuique enti, juxta exitrentiam sure naturse agere : et in homine omnia ordinantur ^, ^. .I.- ...1. sub ratione, tanquam sub naturali et nobiliori eorum prmcipio dis- cernente. 2°. Subiato omni intrinseco discrimine inter bonum et malum morale, tollitur fundamentum legis humanse vel Positive Divince. Quid enim ? Estue ex se bonum iisdem legibus subjici et malum reluctari, vel neutrum eorum ? Si primum, ergo ante conceptum harum legum datur aliquid ex se bonum et malum ; si alterum, ergo leges illje, utpote indifFerentes, nullam speciem boni vel mali moralis determinabunt. 3°. Plura sunt practica rationis principia, e.g. ' Deus est amandus,' ' nemo Igedendus,' &c. quce ex sui naturd animum ad assensum, cogunt, vimque rationali- tati inferunt ; non secus ac ilia theoretica, e. g. ' idem nequit simul esse et non esse,' ' totum est majus sua parte,' &c. ; ergo sicut ex his, ante omnem conventionem et pactionem, qusedam naturaliter vera dimanant judicia, ita ex illis qusedam actiones naturaliter ac per se bonce et honestce, iisdemque opposite malae et inhonestae. 4°. Ut arguit S. Thomas, secundum naturalem ordinem, corpus hominis est propter animam, et inferiores virtutes animre propter rationem; est igitur naturaliter rectum quod sic procuretur ab homine corpus et inferiores vires animae, ut ex hoc et actus ra- tionis et bonum ipsius minime impediatur, si autem secus acci- deret, erit naturaliter peccatum ; vinolentiae igitur comessationes et alia inordinata, quaa liberum judicium rationis esse non sinunt, sunt naturaliter mala. Deinde, cum homo naturaliter ordinetur in Deum sicut in finem, hinc ea, quse ducunt in cognitioneni et aniorem Dei, sunt naturaliter recta, quae vero e contrario se habent, sunt naturaliter homini mala. Patet igitur, quod bonum et malum in humanis actibus non solum sunt secundum legis positionem, sed etiam secundum' naturalem ordinem. 5°. Denique, si omne discrimen boni moralis a malo penderet a sola positiva divina voluntate et lege, potuisset Deus facere ut cuncta quse nunc sunt moraliter bona essent mala, et vicissim ; ideoque potuisset efficere ut bonum esset Ipsum odio habere, proximum Isedere, &c., malum vero Ipsura diligere, proximo benefacere, &c. ; quod evidentissimam involvit absurditatem, redditque impossibile medium cognoscendi (exceptci divina revelatione), quid Deus revera naturaliter prse- cepit et quid prohibuit." — Vol. iii. pp. 67, 8, 9. This passage, at first reading, might appear some- CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 105 what in favour of that opinion, which makes God's necessary Will the source of all moral obligation. But a careful study of it will quite destroy this impression. For instance, in the first italicized passage of the second paragraph, he declares that certain evil actions would remain evil, even though ' per impossibile ' God did not forbid them. In the first italicized passage of the third paragraph he adds, that though in thought we remove from the matter all law whether Divine or human, it still should appear to every one base and evil to depart from the rule of reason and from right order. 44. I next come to the Lyons course of philosophy. The following passage seems to shew, that in this work also an intrinsic obligation is attributed to morality, over and above that obligation, which results from God's necessary Command of it. The words are as follows : — " Obligatio nascitur, tiaii a Voluntate Diviiia summe Perfecta, Cui voluntas humana, admodum imperfecta et debilis, omnem debet subjectionem exhibere : turn a natiird ordinis, qui cum sit intnnsece bonus utpote necessarius entibus, ab omni intelligentia debet amari; tiim etiam," &c. — Ethica Generalis, dissert, v. vol. iii. p. 48. The Divine Command, you see, is given as part, but only part, of the source from which moral obligation springs. Even without reference to this Divine Com- mand, every intelligence (or intelligent being) ought to love (or is under the obligation of loving) what is intrinsecally good. 45. Noget-Lacoudre, like Dmowski, professedly only opposes the opinion, that the obligation of morality springs from Qo^'sfree Will. But he also, as Dmowski, in fact extends his statements to God's necessary Will also : — " Discrimen inter bonum et malum morale repetendum non est a Voluntate Positiva et Libera Dei tantummodo. " Probatur. Ilia enim regula moralis rejicienda est, quae 1°. contradicit notioni quam habemus boni et niali moralis; 2^. quae null am obligationem potest parere : atqui talis est regula, quse dis- crimen inter bonum et malum morale repetit ex Voluntate Positiva et Libera Dei tantiim ; nulio autem modo ex essentia rcnan. 106 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. " 1°. quidem regula haic contradicit notioni quam habemus boni et mali moralis ; qviisque enim existimat plurimos actus, quos agnoscunt tanquam bonos et malos moraliter, tales esse ex essentia rerum ; eorumdem actuum bonitatem aut malitiam ab omni volun- iate libera esse independentem ideoque immutabilem. Sic existi- niant quicumque recto animi sensui vim noii inferunt, bonum esse suum cuique tribuere : aiiimum beneficiorum memorem servare ; &c.; nee unquam Jios actus malos Jieri posse. Ergo, &c. " 2°. Regula haec mdlam obligationem parere potest. Si enim tollitur discrimen ex essentia rerum profluens, tunc Deo jubenti parere non teneor quia bona est res quam ille imperat ; sed tantummodo quia Deus vult: ixU\m sola voluntas Dei non potest parere obligationem. Nulla enim adesse potest obligatio, quin adsit officinm implendum : atqui tunc nullum adest officium implendum : orane enim officium implicat ideam actus boni, sen rectge ration! consentanei ; non verb solummodh imperium voluntatis, quamtumvis potentis. Si enim non adest nisi imperium voluntatis summe potentis, nulla vero notio recti; — sane prudentioi non erit non parere jubenti ; securitatique et utilitati sua' non sapienter consulet qui imperium voluntatis istius summe potentis detrectabit : at si imprudentice reus ille merito dicitur, nunquam tamen recti et ceqid violator erit. Nullum jus sola violentia parere potest. Ergo 2°^ &c."— Vol. iii. p. 112, 113. Thesis 6. One sentence in tins passage is very remarkable and important ; ' Sola voluntas Dei non potest parere obli- gationem.' To unfold more fully its meaning, take this conclusion : ' I am bound to obey the Pope in spirituals, because God commands it.' The premisses stated in full are as follows : — Major. I am bound to obey whatever God com- mands. Minor. God commands me to obey the Pope. Conclusion. I am bound to obey the Pope. The major premiss is very far from a mere truism, or mQVQ tautologous \)Yo^os\i\o\\. (See n. 20.) It is a real proposition, and a most important one ; intued however with extreme clearness, so soon as the idea of a Holy Creator is unfolded before my mind. Now it is plain, that the minor premiss, hij itself^ would not suffice to establish the conclusion ; or, in other words, no obligation could result from the mere fact of God giving- me a Command^ unless my reason at once supplied the major premiss as above expressed. CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 107 What I am here however concerned to point out, is that this statement of Lacoudre applies to God's neces- sary Will, no less tlian to His free will. That Lacoudre indeed does not attribute the origin of moral obligation to God's Will in any sense, is equally clear from the title which he gives to his next thesis : ' Discrimen inter bonum et malum morale repetendum est ex essentia rerum.'' Not from God's Will, you see, but from the essence of things. 46. But the one writer of the present day, who has entered most fully upon the subject of all whom I know, is F. Chastel, S.J. His statements and arguments are as follow : — " Le bien et le mal sont foncles sur la nature, sur I'essence immuable des choses ; et Dieu, loin de decider arbitrairement le bien et le mal, est au contraire nice ssite par sa perfection meme a (lefenclre Van et a vouloir I'aiitre. Par consequent, il n'est pas besoin d'une revelation pour connaitre la Volontc de Dieu sur ce point, ni pour savoir ce cpii est bien et ce qui est mal en virtu de la Loi Naturelle. Cette loi primordiale, gravee dans le coeur de chacun de nous, est promulguee par la voix de la raison et de la conscience. Tel a ete dans tous les temps I'enseignement Chretien. Saint Paul (Rom. ii.) affirme que les paiens eux-memes portent cette loi ecrite dans le ccEur, et qu'un tribunal irrecusable est eleve dans leur conscience. ' Comment done les Gentils,' demande Saint Jean Chrysostome, ' peuvent-ils dire : Nous n'avons point de loi posee par elle-meme dans la conscience, et Dieu ne I'a pas gravee dans notre coeur? C'est de cette loi que les premiers liommes ont tire leurs lois, qu'ils ont invente les arts et les autres choses.' (Homil. ad Pop. Antiocli. 12, c. 4.) ' Cette loi,' dit Saint Ambrose, ' ne nous est point enseignee du dehors, elle est nee en nous-memes ; nous ne la tirons point des livres ; chacun de nous la puise dans la source fecond de la nature.' — Apiid Suarez, ibid. c. 5. " Dans la Loi Naturelle, telle que la manifestent la conscience et la raison, il faut distinsuer deux choses : 1°. le caractere du bien et du mal, c'est-a-dire, ce qui est conforme on contraire a la nature des etres et a leurs rapports essentiels ; 2°. I'intervention nicessaire du Maitre de la nature, qui vent le Men et defend le mal. D^ahord V exigence de la nature, ensuite le Prdcepte Divin ; deux choses distinctes, dont I'une est logiquement anterieure a Vautre. Pour que Dieu ordonne on defende, il faut concevoir quelque chose a ordonner et a defendre. Le bien n'est pas tel parce qu'il plait li Dieu, mais il plait a Dieu parce qiiil est bien ; de meme le mal n'est dcfendu de Dieu, que parce qu'il est mal. 108 rHiLOSoniiCAL introduction. " A part le Prdcepte Divin, il y a done toujours Men et mal essentiels, il y a Vexigence de la nature. Or on demande si, abstraction faite de Dieu et de Sa V^olonte, la scule exigence de la nature snffit pour creer un devoir, pour constituer une obligation morale : en d'autres termes, s'il y a une hi morale ind4pendamment de toute Loi Divine; ou encore jusqu'a quel point la morale est independante de la religion. Cette question delicate a ete trop souvent et trop vivement soulevee, pour n'avoir pas besoin d'une solution complete. " Avouons d'abord, que ce qui fait la principale force de la Loi Naturelle, est sans coiitredit I'intervention de Dieu. La majeste de la Yolonte Divine s'iniposant a la conscience, et montrant a I'homme une sanction inevitable et clairement deter- minee, agira toujours bien plus fortement sur nous que la simple consideration de la nature. Neanmoins il faut voir si cette seule consideration de la nature n'impose point par elle-meme une obligation quelconque. " Voici la reponse de Suarez Anterieurement a la Prescription et a la Volonte Divine, il y a bien et mal moral; il y a done obligation morale, non aussi forte mais reelle, de faire ce qui est bien et d'eviter ce qui est mal. Cela est si vrai, que cette loi est la raison meme de notre souniission a la Volontd Divine. Car enfin, si Dieu ordonne ou defende, il faut qu'il y ait en nous une raiso7i anterieure d'' accepter Sa Volonte et de la suivre. " On demandera, quelle est la force de cette obligation et quelle est sa sanction? La raison nous dit, que tout etre, ou du moins tout etre raisonnable, doit agir conform ement a sa nature et aux rapports essentiels qui le lient aux autres etres ; sous peine, en allant centre sa nature, de marcher a la contradiction, au desordre, a la destruction ; voila la loi. Or qui va a la de- struction et a la souifrance, doit la trouver: voila la sanction.* " Maintenant, cette obligation morale, simple resultat de la nature des etres, Vappellerez-vous une loi, ou lui refuserez-vous * " Quelques lecteurs bienveillants ont paru craindre que nous ne soyons tombe ici dans rerreur du Peclie Philosophique : nous devons les rassurer. La doctrine condamnee du Peche Philosophique consistait a dire, que I'on pouvait pecher contre la nature et contre la raison, sans ofFenser Dieu en mdme temps et sans violer son commandement (voir la 2*^ prop, condamnee par Alex. VIII., AoM, 1690). Oi-, nous ne disons et ne pensons rien de sem- blable. L'o1)ligation fondec sur la nature ou la raison, et celle que fonde la Loi Divine, sout deux obligations distinctes ; elles ne sent pas separecs. " D'autres auraient prefere du moins que nous eussions evit6 cette diffi- cile question, ([ui n'etait pas necessairc ^ notre these. Ces pcrsonnes n'ont pas lu, sans doute, tout ce que les rationalistes et les trailitionalistes ont ecrit depuis vingt ans sur les rapports do la morale et de la religion, et lea exces deplorutjles ou Von /est porfe des deux cotes. Or, notre these etait de resoudre le plus completemcnt possihle cette importante question, et de montrer la verit6 entre ces erreurs opposees." (Author's note.) CATHOLIC AUTHORITY ON THE PRECEDING SECTION. 109 ce nom, sous pretexte que toute lol emane d'un superieur? Peu iinporte. Suarez vovis (lira qu'elle n'est pas une loi propre- ment elite ; hien que d'autres theologieus lui donnent ce nam, en distinguant deux especes de loi, celle qui indique, qui determine le devoir, et celle qui V impose comme expression d'une volontd superieure (Suarez, ibid. n. 3). Mais cette dispute de mots n'empeche pas qu'il y ait toujours obligation morale, devoir rdel, quaiid on ferait abstraction de Dieu et de la religion. Cette verite n'a point echappe au puissant genie de Leibnitz. ' II est tres-vrai,^ dit-il, 'que Dieu est par sa nature superieur de tous les liommes. Cependant, cette pensee que tout droit nait de la Yolonte d\in Superieur ne laisse pas de choquer et d'etre fausse, quelque adoucissement qu'on apporte pour Vexcuser. Car Grotius a judicieusement remarque, qu'il y aurait quelque obli- gation naturelle, quand mime on accorderait, ce qui ne se pent, qu'il ny a point de Dicinite, ou en faisant abstraction pour un moment de son existence.' — Pensees,i. xi. p. 306. " Dieu, a t'on dit, est la source de la morale ; done elle repose sur lui. Oui, Dieu est la source de tous les etres, de toutes les verites, des verites morales comme des ve'rites matM- matiques ; cependant, ne pent- on prouver les verites matliematiques, sans recourir au dogme de PExistence de Dieu?'^ — Pp. 40-45. 47. The quotations which I have now brought to- gether, are most abundantly sufficient, as every one must admit, for the purpose for which I have made them. They are most abundantly sufficient to shew, that any Catholic has the fullest liberty of holding the con- clusion, which I advocated in the preceding Section, if it be the one which appears to him borne out by reason and argnment. These writers may differ from each other, in some instances, on their positive doctrine, as to the source and measure of morality; but they agree absolutely in this negative proposition, that it is wholly independent of any Act, whether free or ne- cessary, of the Divine Intellect or Will. They all agree (1) that things forbidden by the Natural Law possess intrinsecally the formal character of moral evil ; and (2) that God's Detestation and Prohibition of them are based on that character. That another class of Catholic writers consider the obligations of morality to flow from the Will of God, I liave readily admitted ; but these writers regard the IIU PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. Will of God as necessarilij determined by the Per- fection of His JSTature, to issue those Commands and Prohibitions, which appertain to the Natural Law. I have given my reasons for thinking, that this doctrine is logically self-contradictory ; that it leads by necessary consequence to its own denial. (See n. 40.) Still we must never forget, that, according to these Avriters no less than according to the former, the distinction between right and wrong is intrinsic and necessary. As to the extreme and (I will take leave to call it) the appalling proposition, that morality flows from God's y/'ee Will, — it comes in other words to the follow- ing : ' He might well have commanded us to cultivate ' the dispositions of pride, vindictiveness, and impurity; ' and the distinction betAveen these and the opposite ' virtues consists merely in the fact^ that He Jias com- ' manded the latter.' On this doctrine, a very few concluding words will suffice. Suarez quotes some of the mediaeval nominalists, as advocating it ; but I have not been able to meet with a single Catholic author of the present day, who attempts to do so. If such an opinion could be found in any school of philosophy, it would be among the tradi- tionalists. But 1 have before me a most vigorous assault on F. Chastel by F. Ventura, in which the writer (as I understand him) expressly declines to carry his opposition any such monstrous length. These are his words : — " ' Dieu/ dit cet auteur semi-rationaliste (Chastel), ' lohi de decider arbitrairement le bien et le mal, est au contraire ndcessiti par Sa Perfection a defendre Pun et a vouloir I'autre.' Cela est tres- vrai.'' — Le Semi-Rationalisme DdvoiU. Par le Pere Ventura de Raulica, p. 82. Ed. 1856. In fact, there is no contemporary Catholic work, either philosophical or theological, so far as I have been able to find, alluding to this doctrine at all^ which gives any verdict but one upon it. All Catholic writers, I say, treat it as a most grievous error; which certain Protestant schools have indeed admitted, but which every Catholic is bound to reject, as opposed to the CATHOLIC AUTIIOKITY ON THE TRECEDING SECTION. 1 1 1 most fundamental truths of natural religion. Billuart expressly says, that in his days this opinion had entirely disappeared from among Catholics : — " Okam, Gerson, Petrus de Alliaco, et pauci quidam antiqui, opinati sunt Deuin posse absohitc dispensare in omnibus pra^ceptis Leiiis Natune, imo totam illam Leireui abroo;are: ita ut etiam odium Dei non esset peccatum. Sed luec opinio merito rejicitur ab aliis theologis, et nunc inoleviV Perrone observes as follows : — " Hi^ic demum, ut pkira alia ejusdem generis silentio prgeter- eamus, recidit doctrina ilia, cui tot Frotestantes juris naturae scrip- tores firmissime adlueserunt, nullum intrinsecum inter bonum ac malum morale dari discrimen, sed illud a Libera tantum ac Positivd Dei Voluntate totum esse repetendum ; unde consequitur, ipsum ex positiva duntaxat Dei revelatione posse innotescere." And he appends the following note : — "Hffic fuit pal maris doctrina Pufendorfii, quam ipse a parente siio Luthero hausit. Eum sequuti sunt Cocceijus, ac saltern ex parte Heineccius, Thomasius, aliique ^ Protestantibus. Ita etiam Seldenus a positiva Dei revelatione totum jus naturale repetit. Hinc omnes isti Protestantes jurista; doctores scJiolasticos vehementer irrident ac exagitant, eo quod intrinsecum boni ac mali moralis dis- crimen in ipsis rerum essentiis ac naturd fandatum tuentur, ac Legem ^ternam in Deo, a Libera Dei Vokmtate independentem, vindicant. Hand ergo satis mirari possumus, quomodo philosophus Scotus, magni inter recentiores nominis, Dugald Stewart, in prsefatione quam prasmisit volumini primo Supplement! Britannicse Encyclo- pedia3, hanc Melanchtlioni tribuere gloriam potuerit, quod nempe primus omnium docuerit distinctionem inter bonum ac malum morale, non a revelatione, sed ab intrinsecd rerum naturd dima- nantem ; sic, ut (ipse subdit) Catholici postliac ex Protestantibus doctrinam hanc sint mutuali. Num hsec ipsa doctrina non omnibus fere jam antea scholasticis communis erat, si Occamum Nominalium parentem, excipias ; qui tamen statim ac contrarium docuit, ceteros pene omnes scJiolasticos sibi adversos habuit, et a pluribus, ({uos ii^ter k Jo. Duns Scoto, invicte refutatus est? Num scholasticiob hoc ipsum tot a Protestantibus, quos commemoravimus, injurias^ pati non debuerunt? Num contraria sententia, cpire morales distinctiones omnino tollit, non fuit d Luthero ejusque sectatoribus prcedicata ? Adeo prsejudicia protestantism! pliilosoplio, cteteroqui commen- dabili, Stewarto, fucum facere potuerint!" — Perkone de Locis Theologicis, pars 3, n. 9. 112 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. These two last Sections have treated ' On the Relation between God and Moral Obligation.' The conclusion, at which we have hitherto arrived, has been rather negative than positive. It has been, that moral obliga- tion is in itself altogether independent of any Divine Act ; that moral truth is no more the j^roduct of God's Will, than is mathematical. I have thought it better however on the whole, not to leave the question there. I have added therefore an Appendix to this Chapter, ' On the Relation between God and Necessary Truth,' in which a more positive statement is put forward. This Appendix is printed at the end of the first book. It will not be fully in- telligible, till you have studied the three next Sections : but if you feel perplexed at our present negative position, and desirous of further light, there is no reason why you should not at once apply yourselves to its perusal. 113 Section V. On the Idea of Moral Worthiness. 48. I pointed out in the second Section, that there is a considerable number of intuitions, readily elicited by all who have attained the use of reason, which include the idea of ' ouorht' or ' moral obligation.' I will now direct your attention to another considerable class ; containing another idea closely allied to the former, which we may call ' moral worthiness.' Let us give one or two illustrations. A. andB. are two men of my acquaintance. A. de- votes the main current of his life — devotes his labour, his time, his wealth, — to instructing the ignorant, relieving the distressed, promoting the cause of virtue. B. on the other hand, without grossly neglecting any of his immediate duties, leads on the whole a life of great comfort and enjoyment. I am very far from intuing, as an obvious truth, that B.'s course of life is icrong ; but supposing I believe A.'s motives to be pure and simple, I intue it as most undeniable, that A.'s course of conduct is morally belter., more worthy of praise., or (to use the phrase which we may consistently adopt) more morally worthy. Or let us proceed, from general courses of conduct, to individual acts ; let us revert to our old hypothesis of the deposited jewel. Suppose I am surrounded with enjoyments, while he to whom I owe them is in penury. By restoring that jewel which is his, and which will enable him to procure all necessaries, I satisfy the re- quisitions of moral obligation. But if, from the pure motive of gratitude, I give him plentifully from what is mine, I act in a manner more morally worthy. If from I 114 PHILOSOPHICAL INTIIODUCTION. the same motive (and supposing no other claim to interfere) I share with him my whole substance, my act is more morally worthy still. 49. Now after what has been said at length in the second and third Sections, it will not be necessary to spend many words on a furtlier step. When we say that act H, e. g. is more moral/?/ icortJiy than act K, this idea 'moral worthiness' is not capable of being decomposed or analysed into other more simple ideas. We do not mean, e. g\ that act H is more beneficial to society/ than act K ; nor that it is more conducive to the agent's happiness. It is far more probable indeed, that the more virtuous act is more beneficial to society, and more conducive to the agent's (even temporal) happiness. But to make either of these two latter statements is one thins; ; and to make the orisrinal statement, viz. that H is morally worthier than K, this is quite another thing. It does follow on the other hand, by the strictest necessity, that if H is more morally icorthy than K, it is more deserving of praise.^ more deserving of reward^ and the like. Further, and very importantly; when we say that act H is more morall}'^ worthy than K, we do not at all mean that H is more pleasing to our Creator than K. The very opposite is true ; H is more pleasing to our Creator than K, because it is intrinsecally better. Let us make a supposition, which is intrinsecally impossible, yet is perfectly imaginable (see n. 20, arg. 3, pp. 48, 9). Let us suppose we had been created by a being, who should be necessitated indeed to avoid what is intrin- secally wrong, and to forbid it in his creatures ; but who should be in no way necessitated to prefer that which is intrinscally more morally loorthy. Let us suppose a being, who should be less pleased with the conduct of one who labours earnestly to avoid every deliberate imperfection, than with that of another who is totally iuditferent on the subject. It is quite plain that such a being would not be holy, in that sense in which we ascribe that Attribute to our own dearest Creator — the Infinitely Holy — the one Fountain and Source of ON THE IDEA OE MORAL WORTHINESS. 115 holiness. When Reason declares to us that our Creator is the Cumulus of all Perfections, it inclusively declares that He possesses Sanctity. And when it declares that He possesses Sanctity, it declares, among other things, that, by the very necessity of His Nature, He prefers that which is intrinsecally more morally worthy to tliat which is intrinsecally less so.* 50. It is very plain, that there is some close con- nection between the idea of moral obligation and the more general idea of moral worthiness. Let us next therefore consider precisely ivhat that connection is. We have already seen its essential nature ; for we have seen that the being morally obliged to do this or that act, means simply that the failing to do it would be morally evil or morally univorthy.^ We may suppose then a graduated scale, as of a thermometer, in- cluding all moral worthiness and unworthiness ; and moral obligation will be at the zero point of moral worthiness. Whatever may be the circumstances of the moment, if I simply comply with my obligation and do no more, I keep clear indeed of moral evil ; but that is all which can be said. I am at zero point; removed, and only just removed, above the region of moral evil. In proportion as I rise above that zero point, I perform acts more and more morally worthy. If I fall below that point, I fall from the region of moral worthiness altogether; and in proportion to the degree in which I sink below it, my acts become more and more sinful. Let us illustrate this, by reverting to our old case of the jewel. If I share my whole fortune with my friend, this is more morally worthy than if I merely give him even a large gift in addition to his jewel. Another act, still less worthy, will be illustrated, if I give him but a small gift in addition to his jewel; and the lowest, consistent ivith avoiding evil, if I simply restore the jewel. It is plain I cannot fall below this * This statement will be further explained, and (in some sense) qualified, in the last Section of this Chapter. + See n. 19, p. 42. 116 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. act in moral worthiness, without actual sin : hence this act, the restoration of the jewel, is of strict obli- gation. 51. Here then are two different classes of moral judgments: (1) this or that act is good, is obligatory, is morally evil; (2) this act is more morally worthy than that. And take the two classes together, so far from its being at all a rare or exceptional thing to elicit such judgments, it will perhaps be found on con- sideration, that there are no kind of judgments what- ever, more frequent with the great mass of mankind. ' How wrongly A. behaved on such an occasion !' ' How admirably B. encountered that trial!' 'How far pre- ferable is C.'s conduct to D.'s!' Such judgments as these, surely succeed each other quite rapidly in the mind throughout the day. We need not at all, and we cannot, maintain, that the moral judgments of men in general are connnonly correct ; but we do say that they are very frequent. In other words, there is no one idea more constantly familiar to the mind of every man, than the idea of moral worthiness considered in itself. Men may make great mistakes., as to those acts or persons whom they praise or blame ; but praise and blame, for supposed merit or demerit, are among the very commonest thoughts in their mind. INIucli miglit be said, were this the appropriate place for saying it, on the religious inferences de- rivable from this fact. Our Creator, it seems, is quite in a special degree solicitous, to ensure our remem- brance of this moral Rule which has claim over all our actions. He has therefore so constituted our nature, that even those who are most enoTossed with tem- poral objects, who live most undividedly for wealth, or honour, or comfort, bear constant witness against themselves, in this unceasing reference to the ideas of moral obligation and moral worthiness. But all such considerations rather belong to a later part of our work ; and here I need only say, that you will find it (I expect) a most edifying and almost surprising study, as you find one particular after another evolved, ON THE IDEA OF MORAL WORTHINESS. 117 of those which shew how singularlyYiQ has formed our nature for the practise of virtue. 52. It will be now advisable, to extend the sense in which we use that im])ortant phrase the ' Natural Rule.' We have hitherto used it as synonymous with the ' rule of independent obligation' (see n. 24). Let us now use it more extensively, as synonymous with the ' rule of independent virtuousness.' Accord- ing to its former acceptation, it signified the sum of all those obligations, which bind us independently of God's commands.* According to its new acceptation, let it include also the sum of all those cases, in which one act is moi'e moraUy worthy than another, inde- pendently of any special intervention exercised by God. 53. Here tlien we are led to a further very im- portant enquiry ; how far does this Natural Rule extend. And this general enquiry subdivides itself into three. First, we may ask how far in fact does this Natural Rule extend. Secondly, how far is reason in the ab- stract capable of discovering it. Thirdly, as to reason in the concrete^ — exercised under those circumstances in which mankind are placed, — we may ask how great progress is reason in this sense able to make, towards disco verino- the Natural Rule. Our meaning may be illustrated by a parallel case. There is an indefinite number of properties impressed by God on matter, which, by their various combina- tions, account for all the physical phenomena of the universe. He who should know all these properties, and all their combinations, would be a master of all physical truth. Now (1) nothing is more probable, than that there may be many of these properties, which Reason is absolutely unable to approach ; it may either not possess the data, or the intrinsic power, which would enable it even to advance towards their dis- * So Vasquez, already quoted n. 30: ' Jtegula Naturalis, quae nulla voluntate sed suapte natura constat.' ' Ante omne Imperium, ante omncni Voluntateiii, immo ante omne Judicium [Dei, est] regula qucedam haruin actionum, quas suapte natura constat.' 118 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. covery. And yet we might in other ways, as, e. g. by Revelation, be enabled to acquire a full knowledge of such properties. But (2) there will be a considerable number of other properties, whose discovery is quite within the domain of Reason : Reason, exercising its in- trinsic power on those data which are within its grasp, may be fully competent to attain them. And yet (3) there may be multitudes of these latter properties which are so circumstanced, that the reason of man here below never ivill in fact, nor indeed can, arrive at their knowledge. The process, required for that purpose, may need such constant and prolonged exer- cise of Reason, or so very wide a collection of data, that in fact^ circumstanced as we are in this visible world, we are utterly unable to accomplish the task. Just so, as to the Natural Rule. One question is, how far it does in fact actually extend; another, how far Reason in the abstract is able to attain it ; a third, how far our reason, in our existing circumstances, enables us to proceed. The following Section will be devoted to a consideration of these three most important questions. 119 Section VT. On the Extent of the Natural Rule. 54. Various intuitive judgiueuts, which are most certainly legitimate, and which are common to all mankind, enable us to state with confidence one very important proposition. Justice, Veracity, and Benevo- lence, are intrinsecally good ends of action. The phrase 'good' or virtuous 'ends of action,' 1 use in somewhat of a technical sense ; which will be fully explained as we proceed. On the other hand, when we speak of three ends, we are not speaking with very strict accuracy ; for Veracity should by rights be included under Justice. I mention Veracity however separately, because of its special importance ; since (as already implied) it is only by proving the intrinsic virtuousness of Veracity, that our acceptance of a revelation becomes possible. However, even if the above statement in itself could be considered as ambiguous in any particular, the course of our remarks will amply explain and define it. I intue that it is wrong, not to give my friend back his jewel : why? because it is contrary to Justice. I intue that it is wrong, if a governor punishes his subjects, for that which tliey have no real power to avoid : why? because it is contrarv to Justice. I intue that it is wrong, if a traveller comes home, and tells me all kind of falsehoods about the countries which he has visited : why ? because it is contrary to Veracity. Suppose any one has the power most readily to do a great deal, in the wav of lessenino; some terrible mass of evil which surrounds him; to save numbers, e.g. from imminent danger of death; and suppose nevertheless he does not move a finger in the matter : I intue that such conduct is morally culpable; Avhy? because it is contrary to Benevolence. 120 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. Here are cases, where Justice, Veracity, and Bene- volence, are intued as obligatory : now for others, where, putting aside the question of obligation, they are intued as virtuous ends of action. A governor is aggrieved by some great public evil ; but on preparing to punish the offenders, he finds that they have really not had the full power of acting otherwise. Though greatly provoked at the evil which has ensued, and though the punishing of these men would be very ex- pedient as a piece of state policy, he refuses to do so, because it would be unjust. I intue that this act, wherein his will is thus powerfully affected towards the virtuousness of Justice, is a very virtuous act. A traveller returns from abroad; and, though he might obtain great eclat and make himself a very interesting object by romancing on what he has seen, he confines himself to strict and sober truth. I intue that these acts, wherein his will is thus powerfully affected towards the virtuousness of veracity, are very virtuous acts. A landlord devotes his energy, his time, his money, to redress the misery which exists among his tenants or their labourers. I intue that, if he does all this because his will is so powerfully affected to the virtuousness of Benevolence, these various acts are extremely virtuous. Nor are these principles confined to external acts : they apply fully as much to acts purely internal ; to acts which are consummated in the will, nay, and to acts which do not in any way contemplate eYen future action. If I earnestly wish that A. B., who has laboured in the service of the state, may receive his just reward — ■ though I do not contemplate my own agency as tend- ing in any way (now or hereafter) to obtain it for him — yet such wish alone is virtuous, under the head of Justice. If I rejoice in the thought, that some invention has greatly mitigated human suffering, — that mere act of coniplacence is virtuous under the head of Benevolence. Still more keenly do I intue, that to rejoice in the sufferings of any of my fellow -creatures, simply as such, is among the most detestable sins I can commit ; one which, more than almost any other, has earned the title of diabolical. 1 intue that this is most fully the ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL RULE. 121 case, even tliougii I should not eonteiii])late adding to tliO.se sufferings by my own acts in the sliglitest degree. It is implied in what we have said — hut it needs to be explicitly stated — that there is nothing like this on the opposite side. No one ever thought another vir- tuous for this precise reason, viz. because his will was so powerfully affected towards injustice, mendacity, and crueltv. The meanino; and force of this remark will be made clearer, by supposing an objection. ' Surely,' then it will be urged, ' there are number- less cases, where unjust, mendacious, and cruel acts are applauded. We invade an enemy's country ; and think it no kind of sin to deprive the poor inhabitants of that harvest, on which they have been expending a year's toil : yet what can be more unjust ? Again, multitudes of men think a lie most allowable, if there be no other means of defending a friend's life or honour. Lastly, men often think it lawful to inflict ver}^ considerable suffering — e.g. all the horrors of war — simply for the sake of national honour or terri- torial aggrandisement. Here then is a large number of intuitions, wherein injustice, mendacity, and cruelty are held as virtuous.' The answer to this is extremely simple. But before giving it, ' ex abundanti cautela ' it may be as well to make one most obvious remark. The question through- out is not what nien c?o, but wdiat they approve; not what course they in isiQ,t follow., but what they believe to be the path of virtue. And now to the objection. Certainl}^ men often think it lawful to inflict suffer- ing, for very inadequate reason. They think it lawful, under many circumstances, to say what is false. But why ? Not because of any supposed virtuousness in mendacity or cruelty as such ; on the contrary, they probably enough recognize the intrinsic claims of Veracity and Benevolence, at the very moment of acting in opposition to those virtues. Their judgment is of the following kind. ' Undeniable as is the claim ' of Veracity where there is no reason to the contrary, ' my friend's claim on me, to save his life or honour, is ' superior and should prevail.' And the very s:ime 122 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. account may be given of the other cases specified. It is not mendacity, that is recognized as having a counter claim to Veracity ; but Sk friend^ s life or honour^ which is thought to possess such a counter claim. A great multitude of acts are recognized as morally good, simply because they are motived by the virtuousness of truth- telling as such: — when was one ever regarded as good, simply because it was motived by the (supposed) virtuousness of lying as such ? This will appear even more clearly, if we contrast any of those instances, in which (I fully admit) men do elicit false intuitions, in regard to virtuous ends of action. Many, e. g. think it morally culpable, if they leave a stinging injury unrevenged. They will there- fore go through great labour and self-denial, for the purpose of vengeance ; for the sake of fulfilling the (supposed) obligation of vindictive retribution. And many, who witness this conduct, will admire them for so acting. Vindictive retribution then is regarded by many, I admit it, as a virtuous end of action. But who can say that injustice, mendacity, or cruelty, has ever been regarded as such? Who ever thought it his duty to do any one thing, for the sake of fulfilling any supposed obligation to practise injustice, mendacity, or cruelty, simply as such, and for its own sake? or who ever admired another because he so acted ? The various intuitions, which have been assumed as legitimate in the preceding argument, are proved to be so, on precisely the same grounds, which have been already (we suppose) admitted as satisfactory. Let any one look back at our reasons for maintaining that the intuition of moral obligation is itself legitimate (see n. 17, pp. 37, 8); he will see that they apply in their full force to the intuitions which we have here been considering. We infer therefore, that Justice, Veracity, and Benevolence, are legitimately intued as virtuous ends of action. 55. Before proceeding with our research for other virtuous ends, let us consider various important truths, which are implied in the very fact of certain ends being virtuous. Such truths, as soon as established, will hold ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL RULE. 123 at once in regard to Justice, Veracity, and Benevolence ; and they will also of course hold in regard to any other ends, which we may afterwards prove to he virtuous. (1.) We have already seen, that in recognizing any virtuous end of action, it is implied that we never regard, as lawful, the contravening such an end purely for the sake of ])leasure or caprice. We may often indeed consider that, in this or that particular case, some other virtuous end, which happens for the mo- ment to conflict, has a preponderating claim ; that Veracity, e. q;. may be sacrificed to the claims of Justice or Benevolence. But where no conflicting claim can be put forward, we universally admit the authority of any one virtuous end to be paramount and indefeasible. We never think it lawful, e. g. to inflict cruelty, except to satisfy the claims of Justice or of some other virtuous end. 56. (2.) Suppose I confer various benefits on my fellow-men, yet not at all because of the virtuousness of Benevolence, but for some different end altogether : for instance, suppose I so act in order that I may keep a promise made to my dying father. Such an act may be virtuous under the head of Fidelity (i. e. observance of promises) ; or under the head of Filial piety : but in no sense under the head of Benevolence. Or suppose 1 so act, for the simple purpose of obtaining the affection of those whom I benefit, with the sole view of reaping some temporal advantage by their help. Such an act will have no virtue whatever ; since it is wholly motived by a desire of temporal gain. Both these statements are obvious as soon as made ; from them, and from an indefinite number of propositions precisely similar and intued with equal clearness, we derive a very important generalization. No act is virtuous, unless it be directed to the virtuousness of some end recognized as virtuous ( ' nisi fiat propter honestatem boni cujusdam honesti'). Nor is it virtuous at all, except so far as regards that end, or those ends, to the virtuousness of which it has been directed. 124 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. There is no philosophical proposition, more con- stantly used in Theology than this ; I must beg you therefore most carefully to consider its meaning and its proof, and remember it for future use. 57. (3.) We are now able easily to understand the distinction, so frequently expressed by philosophers, between objective and subjective morality. To confer great benefits on a multitude of men, is objectively most virtuous ; but if 1 do so merely for the sake of tem- poral gain, my act is subjectively immoral. In ob- jective morality, we consider merely the thing done or resolved on ; but in subjective morality, we consider the frame of mind in which, the circiimstances under which, above all tlie end for which, the agent does it or resolves on it. Nothing is more common, than for acts to be objectively virtuous, but subjectively sinful. On the other hand, it must always be subjectively sinful, to do that which I recognize as objectively wrong. It is a contradiction in terms to say, that a7iy circum- stances can make me right, in doing that which I know to be under all circumstances wrons;. But I may often be subjectively virtuous in doing what is objectively wrong, supposing that I do 7iot know it so to be. What those circumstances are, — or in other words when and how far ignorance excuses from sin, — is a further consideration. You will find hereafter, when we arrive at the subject, that there is hardly a more difficult question in all Theology. The same distinction applies to relative degrees of moral worthiness. Let me assume, what every Ca- tholic holds, that the life of Obedience, Poverty, and Celibacy, objectively speaking, is intrinsecally more morally worthy than the life of an ordinary Christian. Yet if I have no vocation to that life, — in other words, if God's gifts to me, whether of nature or grace, are such that 1 promote my own sanctification better by the more ordinary course, — then subjectively^ in my own case, that ordinary coui'se is the more morally worthy of the two. Or again, if in any way God were to ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL RULE. 125 express His preference that I sliould pursue the more ordinary course — wishing, e. g. so to eniph)y me in some providential work — then also this course would be sub- jectively the better. But on this latter instance, God's expression of a preference, we will here say no more, as we shall treat of it expressly in the next Section. 58. (4.) A. restores liis kind friend's deposit under circumstances of great trial : by doing so, he brings himself into the necessity of labouring for liis daily bread. B. restores the deposit, without thereby in- curring any serious inconvenience. Objectively speak- ing, A.'s act is more virtuous than B.'s ; for the just and obligatory act is performed under circumstances of greater difficulty. But is A.'s act also suhjecfively better ? On the surface, we should reply 'certainly yes;' but a little consideration will shew that something more has to be said. Why are we inclined to think A.'s act the better ? Because, by the very circumstance of resisting such great temptation to dishonesty, he displays a will firmly and efficaciously adhering to the virtuousness of justice. But it is abundantly possible, that B.'s will may in fact adhere quite as efficaciously to that vir- tuousness ; only that he has no opportunity for dis- playing that fjict. If therefore we knew {e. g. by Revelation) that such was in truth the case, we should have no hesitation in considerinii; that B.'s act was subjectively as virtuous as A.'s. Here by generalisa- tion we arrive at another proposition, which is of extreme importance both to Theology and Philosophy. My act, ca3teris paribus, becomes subjectively more virtuous, in proportion as my will adheres more firmly and efficaciously to the virtuousness of the virtuous end or ends. 59. (5.) We are now able to arrive at our general idea of a perfectly holy being. And first we will suppose that being to be finite. The intuitions, on which our aroument has hitherto rested, apply not to men only, but to all rational creatures ; as will be evident to any one who re- 126 rillLOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. considers them. A finite })eing then, who should be perfectly good or holy, will unite two characteristics. First, he will avoid all sin ; secondly, his will will adhere to the various virtuous ends of action, with a degree of firmness and eflficacity proportioned to the degree of his sanctity. Even at the present stage of our argument then, we have proved so much as this. So soon as we establish by Reason the existence of an Infinitely Perfect Being, we establish the existence of a Being, AVhose Will adheres with infinite firmness and efficacity to the virtuousness of Justice, Veracity, and Benevolence. And thus, without going further, we have done all that it is necessary for Reason to do, in order that the reasonable acceptance of a Revelation may be possible. For we have shewn that Veracity is a part of Perfec- tion ; and that we are warranted therefore in believing whatever a Creator, Infinite in Perfection, authenticates : whether He does so by miracles or in any other way. 60. An objection indeed may here be interposed, which it would be most unfair to pretermit. ' God's Will, * as we have seen, adheres in an infinite degree to the ' virtuousness of Benevolence ; and yet this is per- * fectly consistent with the fact, that He often acts in * opposition to Benevolence, nay, and with considerable ' severity, towards His creatures. In acting thus, ' His Will is directed to the virtuousness of Justice ; ' of requiting worthily deeds of sin.* In like manner ' then, His AVill may adhere in an infinite degree to the ' virtuousness of Veracity ; and yet this may be con- ' sistent with the fact, that here and there He acts in ' o]>position to Veracity, while aiming at some other ' virtuous end. The intuitions, on which you pur- ' ported to ground the virtuousness of Veracity, did * not profess at all to establish its absolute obligation ' under all circwnstances ; but only its intrinsic vir- ' tuousness, and its obligation where higher claims do ' not interfere.^ * This question of retributive punishment will be considered later in the Section. ON THE EXTENT (JF THE NATURAL RULE. 127 It is certainly necessary, yet at the same time easy, to answer this objection. I answer it tlius. If there is an intuition, in the whole circle of them, which is un- deniably legitimate — which every human being forms as a matter of course — which exceeds the mathema- tical axioms themselves in its absolutely irresistible character — it will be the following: — 'A creator, who should promulgate to his creatures a false revelation, would not be holy.' This intuition then is most cer- tainly legitimate, and it amply suffices for our purpose. It is quite true that many moralists will allow to men various cases, in which without sin they may speak falsely;* but in all cases without exception the reason of this is, because there are certain important ends, which are unattainable except through such false speak- ing. In God, I need hardly say, nothing of the sort can have place; there cannot by possibility be any want of power, in carrying out His various ends. Lugo has a remark similar to this : — " Qusestio propria nostra prresens non est, an Deus possit dis- pensare cum homine allquando ut nientiatur vel falsum affirmet ; quae qnidem qusestio pertinet ma^is ad primam secnndee in tract, de legibus, vel secundam secundje in qusestione de mendacio. Qusestio autem nostra est de solo Deo, an ipse Deus aliquando possit licite tnentiri, vel fallere et falsum revelare : et ad int'allibi- litatem fidei divina? sufficit, quod Deus fallere non possit nee falsum testificari, etiamsi homines ex dispensatione Dei id possent licite facere. Et quidem, licet aliqiiis concederet homines aliquando id posse licite facere, vel ob necessitatem vel ex Dei dispensatione, non posset id de Deo concedi ; in Quo, ut Plato supra adductus monuit, non posset locum habere excusatio ilia necessitatis : cum Deus facillime posset, absque mendacio, omnia pericula et incon- venientia impedire." — De Fide Divina, d. 4, n. 59. 61. We have now then established securely Justice, Veracity, and Benevolence, as stars in the constellation of moral perfection. To another class of virtues, we may with equal ease vindicate a similar place ; I mean those which relate to God. So soon as we believe in an Infinite and Holy Creator, the following intuitions are most obviously legitimate. ' It is a duty to revere * No Catholic moralist, however, allows this. 128 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. Him because of His Greatness,' ' to obey Him because of His just Authority,' ' to aim at His approl)ation as being our uioral Governor,' • to conform our Will to His because of His Sanctity :' — all these intuitions, I say, are most obviously legitimate. Ihey are not indeed so universally elicited by all mankind, as are those on which I have been hitherto insisting ; simply because the mass of men either know so little, or think so little, about God. But no one can apprehend the terms of the various propositions just recited, without intuing the truth of these propositions. They apply also, as is most evi- dent, not to men only but to all rational creatures. 62. But there are other virtues which, in the Christ- ian's eye, have quite as great intrinsic excellence, as Justice, Veracity, and Benevolence. I mean such as the following : Humility, Forgivingness, Chastity. Revela- tion indeed declares that they are intrinsecally virtuous, and we can accept that truth of course on God's autho- rity. Yet it is a question of great interest and of some importance, to see how far, by Reason alone, we can arrive at the same conclusion. I am confident that we can, to the fullest extent ; and I proceed to lay down two important principles, which will greatly help us in the enquir3\ 63. The first of these we may call the ' production of the arc' principle. It will often happen, that if we see only a very small portion of the arc of a circle, we cannot distinguish it from a straight line : produce it, and its real nature is apparent. Something altogether analogous takes place in reference to moral conduct. If act A be virtuous under circumstances C, since morality is necessary^ a .mnilar act will be virtuous whenever similar circumstances recur. We have therefore to judge, not on an isolated case, but on a whole class of cases ; we have to consider, not simply whether one act A is virtuous, but whether all these acts A are virtuous. And it will frequently happen, that the multitude of men might have been unable to form any confident opinion on the former question, who may yet decide witli the most perfect clearness on the latter. For instance, ' is it lawful for a man liarassed by poverty ON THE IDEA OF MORAL WORTHINESS. 129 ' (I am not supposing actual danger to life) to take ' somethinii: from bis rich neiolibour ? the latter would ' hardly so much as be aware of the loss, while to the ' former it would be an inestimable benefit.' There are perhaps many, who could not at all events see very clearly tliat this is wrong. But put the case universally — produce the arc — there will be no doubt as to the decision. No one will fail to see, how mon- strous would be the supposition, that every one, who considers himself harassed by poverty, may plunder his rich neighbour. To mention no other consequence — ■ the rich neighbour would soon become as poor as they. On this ground alone, were there no other, special weight would be due to the moral judgments of a good man. He acts consistently on his moral rules, hour after hour, day after day ; and by consequence he has unconsciously ' produced the arc' His moral rules have been applied to a large number of parallel cases, and have been proved able to bear the weight of sus- tained and consistent moral action. 64. But the second principle to which I have alluded (u. 62), goes far more nearly into the heart of the matter than the first ; and indeed (in my humble opinion) gives us far more light on the real trust- worthiness of moral judgments, tban anything which has hitherto been said throughout this Section. It will require therefore to be treated, at a length somewhat proportioned to its importance ; and it will necessitate some little psychological investigation. The latter cir- cumstance is a matter for regret ; as it would have been undoubtedly more convenient, if we could have reserved all our psychology for the next Chapter. I assume tlien, from what will be said more at length in the next Chapter, that the soul is a simple substance. AVhen therefore we speak of dividing it into intellect, will, and the like, we are not speaking of any real division ; the intellect and will are not two different parts of the soul, as fore and aft are two dif- ferent parts of a ship. When the soul puts forth acts of cognition, it is convenient that those acts be referred K 130 riilLOSOPHlCAL INTEODUCTION. to the intellect ; when acts of volition, to the will : and the intellect and will respectively are bnt abstract terms used accordingly. To this remark we here add another. Just as we divide the soul into intellect, will, and the like, so we subdivide the intellect into its different faculties. In this case, as in the former, nothing can be further from our thoughts than the idea of any r-eal division ; we are but saying, that, for convenience of arrangement, some intellectual operations of the soul are referred to this faculty and some to that. Our various acts of memori/ we refer to the remembering faculty ; our various acts of in- ference to the reasoniiig faculty ; and so on with the rest. On what principle do we ordinarily decide, as to the nuinber of distinct faculties which we shall enumerate ? I think on the following. Let us suppose that there is a number of intellectual operations, so similar to each other, that whoever performs one of these well ordinarily performs the others so, and whatever discipline will in- crease his power of performing one, will equally increase his power of performing the rest ; — in such a case, we refer these operations to the same facultif. Operations on the other hand, which are not so similar, we refer to distinct faculties. Let us take our illustrations from one of the most important classes of operation, and from one of the least important ; the operations of remembering and the ope- rations of observing distances at sea. The operations of remembering are connected closely with each other in the mode just described : he who remembers one thing very well, probably remembers other things also very well, which have been with equal frequency in his thoughts ; whatever discipline will improve his power of remembering one thing, will inn)rove his power of rememl)ering otJier things also. The various operations of observing distances at sea are likewise mutually con- nected in the same way. On the other hand, there is no probability whatever, that he wlio re7nembers well will be clever m judging rightly on marine distance; nor will the discipline ON TIIK EXTENT OF THE NATURAL RULE. 131 wLicli assists tlie memonj^ give any material benefit on the latter undertaking. Hence we refer our various acts of remernbering to one faculty, and our various acts of observing marine distmices to one faculty ; but we count these tivo faculties as distinct from each other. There is one faculty, and not more, of remembering ; one, and not more, of observing marine distances : l)ut it is to two faculties, and 7iot to one, that we ascribe the respective operations, 1st of remendDcring, 2nd of observing distances at sea. In like manner, I suppose there is a distinct faculty of judging on pictures, and another distinct faculty of judging on music. And so we might proceed ; but that enough has been said to explain our meaning. I conceive that the faculty of reasoning is one, and not more. In other words, he who reasons well on one matter, will reason equally well on any other with which he is equally conversant ; and the same discipline which will make him reason better on one subject, will also make him reason better on any other with which (as before) he is equally conversant. This is by no means a self-evident fact ; yet on the other hand, as it does not bear on our argument, it will be better not to be led away into those various statements, which would be necessary for the purpose of establishing it. Let it suffice then thus to have stated my own humble opinion.* * It may, perhaps, be worth while to point out in a note, that those who excel in logical deduction, excel equally in logical induction. The latter (I need hardly say) is wholly different from physical or Baconian induction ; and appertains as simi)ly to Formal Logic, as does deduction itself. Its type is such as the following : ' Every right-angled triangle has this property ; every obtuse-angled triangle has it; every acute-angled triangle has it. But these three classes make up all triangles whatever ; hence all triangles whatever have it.' As the deductive reasoning goes from generals to par- ticulars, so inductive from particulars to generals. I think this inductive reasoning is far more common than we are sometimes apt to fancy. At all events I may take this opportunity of remarking, that it has often occurred in the preceding pages. Thus for instance in this very Section (n. 56) I draw attention to a particular intuition ; I state that there is a countless number of similar intuitions ; and by logical induction I make a generalization. It may be thought perhaps at first sight, that the acts of observing distances at sea (to take the illustration which I have suggested) are not intuitive but inferential iudgments ; after the type of those mentioned in n. 2. Take the following judgment— 'We are now three miles from land,' and no doubt this is an inferential judgment. It may arise, e.g. from such 132 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. Now of all these various faculties three things may be remarked : — (1.) Some men are by nature far less gifted with this or that faculty than are other men. (2.) Putting aside exceptional cases, in every man every faculty admits of being indefinitely improved. (3.) The one mode, by which that improvement takes place, is practice ; exercise of the faculty in putting it to that purpose, which it was evidently intended to subserve. We learn to remember better and better, in proportion as we apply ourselves to learning things by heart. We learn to intue more accurately the mutual relations of marine distances, in proportion as we give our attention to the task of comparing them. We improve our judgment in music, by accustoming ourselves to hear it. We grow in good taste for pictures, in proportion as we give exercise to such taste as we have. 65. Our foundation having thus been laid, I proceed to state what appears to me the real process, whereby our moral judgments increase in accuracy. I will first state it and assume it to be true. When we have seen the various results to which it leads, I will then beg your attention to the various arguments in its behalf. I will merely premise, that, in considering the whole matter, we must put out of sight the fact of Revelation ; because our question regards the power of unaided reason to discover moral truth. I lay down then the following two theses : — (1.) As there is one faculty whereby we remember, and another whereby we observe distances at sea ; a third whereby we judge rightly on the excellence of music, a fourth on pictures ; — so, and in precisely the reasoning as this: 'The present distance is just three-quarters of the distance which I observed last week ; and which I knew aliunde to be four miles.' But it must be observed that the first part of this sentence, ' this is three-quarters of that^ is undeniably an intuitive judgment ; and a judgment, which will be probably true or false, accordingly as the faculty of observing distances at sea is in a sound or unsound state. A mere landsman will probably be altogether mistaken in forming such a judgment. This whole remark is applicable to an indefinite number of cases, where it might be thought that the elicited judgment is inferential and not intuitive. ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL RULE. 183 same sense, there is another faculty, whereby we intue moral truth. Let us call this the Moral Faculty. (2.) As our other fjtculties improve by being put to that purpose for which they are intended^ so also does the Moral Faculty. 66. To see tlie full bearing of this second thesis, let us first consider ichafis, the 'purpose' for which the Moral Faculty is ' intended.' Evidently, that it should be the one guide of our Ufe. If there be such a quality as moral evil attaching to certain actions, we cannot tell how many, — it becomes a most indispensable duty, to take good heed that none of those daily actions which we are in the habit of performing, may come under the number. It becomes, I say, a most indispensable duty, to pass under review from time to time our course of life, that we may carefully consider how far we have means of knowing that any part of it is wrong. He who recognizes that there is such a thing as moral obligation at all^ is self-condemned, unless he aims at enthroning it in the place of absolute and despotic authority over his whole life. The same thing may be more accurately and pro- fitably stated, if we here assume a proposition which is undeniably true. When once men begin seriously to lay to heart moral obligation, they will at once recognize the Existence of a Holy Creator. By what process this recognition takes place — wdiether, e.g. by inference, or intuition, or in what other way, — this is a most important philosophical inquiry, yet here we need not consider it. It could not by possibility be discussed satisfactorily, without occupying very considerable space, and leading us through a number of very diffi- cult questions; while our course of argument is not affected by it one w^ay or the other. I will only here ex- plain how far 1 am from meaning, that in fact men first arrive by means of reason at a knowledge of God. On the contrary, I believe that in fact the first announcement of God's existence ever comes through the agency of Revelation ; there being no country so barbarous or so isolated, as that some remains at least of the Primitive 184 PHILOSOPHICAL INTllODUCTION. Revelation do not remain among tliem, imparting a real light from Heaven. At the same time, to say that the first announcement is in fact due to Revelation, is of course most fully consistent with saying, as I do say, that reason is superabundantly able to establish and substantiate this fundamental truth. Reverting then to the course of our argument, and interweaving with it this proposition of God's Existence, I assert that those only put their Moral Faculty to that purpose for which it is intended, who are in the habit of striving earnestly and perseveringly to please their Creator. In otlier words, those only do so, who are in the habit of ( 1 ) frequently passing vmder review every detail of their conduct, for the purpose of considering how far it will be approved by the Omniscient God ; and ( 2 ) of labouring earnestly, that the current of their lives may be really in harmony with that which they have dis- covered to be God's Will. That such a course is utterly impossible without Prayer and Grace, I am indeed well aware ; and we shall see this truth most fully esta- blished, when we come to Theology. Still reason alone would shew the importance and obligation of Prayer ; while experience would testify to its most efficacious results. We are able therefore to make the supposition that men do so act with reasonable consistency, without introducing the hypothesis of a special and authenti- cated Revelation. Our second thesis comes then to this : that in propor- tion as we carefully pursue the course just described, our Moral Faculty will acquire a constantly increasing refinement of intuition, enabling it to form ' moral judgments' with constantly increasing fineness and accuracy.* To understand therefore fully the said * This is held by Gioberti ; though I cannot but think that he is far from laying such stress upon it, as its extreme importance deserves. Surely all must confess, that if a truth, it is a more important one than most others. The following is M. Alary's translation of Giobcrti's words : " L'inclination etla propcnsion affectueuscdela volonte . . . tournentau profit de la connaissance elle-meme ; I'accroissent, la fortifient, la perfec- tionnent. Voila pourqiioi les amis des verit6s intcllcctives out de celles-ci ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL RULE. 135 thesis, one final question must be answered; — '"what is precisely meant by a moral judgment f^ By a 'moral judgment,' we understand a judgment, of wliicli the idea of ' moral worthiness,' in one or other of its various shapes, stands as predicate. Moral judgments therefore will be always reducible to such types as the following : ' A is virtuous,' ' B is of obliga- tion,' ' C is morally evil,' ' I) is morally worthier than E,' &c. &c. Thus that humility is virtuous, is a moral judgment ; but that such or such a mental discipline will conduce to humility, this is not a ' moral ' but a psychological judgment. This latter judgment, I say, does not predicate moral goodness, or badness, or pre- ferableness, of any act or person ; but simply states that a certain relation exists between two certain mental phenomena. Now it is ' moral judgments,' and not psychological nor any other, which (1 maintain) will be more accurately elicited, in proportion as the Moral Faculty is improved through moral discipline. &^. Do we mean therefore, that as our Moral Faculty thus grows, we are able for certain to judge more clearly, under every combination of circumstances, what is right or wrong, and what is morally preferable? By no means. The Moral Faculty is able indeed to judge more accurately on the cases brought before it ; but the wrong case may be brought before it. This very mode of expression suggests an obvious analogy. When we wish to obtain a lawyer's opinion, — so to draw up our case as fully and accurately to represent the circum- stances, is often a very difficult task. If we perform this task badly, though the lawyer were the best in all England, his opinion could be of no real service. It might be an excellent opinion on the case ; but not on the real circiwisfances : the fault would be, not that the opinion is legally/ erroneous, but that the circum- stances are erroneouslij represented. Take another illustration from a pair of scales. They may be so une intuition heaucoup plus vive et plus prononcee, que ceux dont Tame est cnveloppee et endurcie dam V affection vicieuse des choses soisnelles,'" &c. — Introduction, vol. iii. p. 40. 136 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. exquisitely made, so nicely adjusted, as to be im- pressed by a feather's weight ; and yet what will be the value of their decision, if the wrong parcel is put in ? To apply these illustrations. Our moral judgments, as we have seen, are of the following kinds. ' Under ' the circumstances as I conceive them, A is morally ' evil, B is lawful, C is morally better than D.' But that the circumstances as I co7icewe them, shall be in fact the circumstances as they are, — in other words that I shall have accurately represented the circumstances to my mind — this requires a different kind of judgment altogether. This Isitter kind of judgment is one, which it is often most difficult to form correctly ; but its correctness in no way depends on the good condition of my Moral Faculty. And we shall see this still more strongly, if we consider the production of the arc (see n. 63). For the question, on which I have to pronounce a moral judgment, is not whether in this particular case the act is lawful or preferable, but whether in every parallel case a parallel act is so to be considered. It is necessary therefore, before the requisite judgment can be pronounced, that I shall suppose such acts, as universally done under parallel circumstances ; — that I shall follow out with sufficient accuracy and com- pleteness the various results Avliich would thus ensue ; — that I shall follow out with equal accuracy and com- pleteness the results which would ensue on the opposite hypothesis; — and then, having thus brought up the whole case (and no mere fragment of it) for judgment, that I shall finally pronounce. Plainly it will happen again and again, that the real difficulty is far more in the preparatory, than in the final, process ; far more in the process which depends on other intellectual operations, than on that which specially appertains to the Moral Faculty. You will say perhaps, that if this be the only method of arriving at a sound ethical conclusion, the cases must be comparatively few, in which reason will enable us with any confidence to hold such a conclu- ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL RULE. 137 sion. If this be your inference, you are only antici- pating what I shall have earnestly to advocate in a later part of the Section. Here vv^e are only considering what the true process is. A particular instance may perhaps make clearer our meaning. The question has sometimes been raised, whether it is morally preferable to give, or to refuse, money to a beggar who asks alms, into whose circum- stances I have no means of inquiring. For the moment, we have notliing to do with decisions of the Church, texts of Scripture, and the rest, because we are sujd- posed to be investigating the case on pure grounds of reason. But, apart from these, as a mere matter of intui- tion, numbers of excellent persons will in a moment pronounce, that it is very decidedly better to give than to withhold. Yet a little consideration will shew, that they are not really pronouncing on the alternative intended. Their 'scales' may be in a very good state, but wrong 'parcels' have been put into them. They understand the question to be, ' which of these two is morally pre- ' ferable — the giving to an accidental beggar, or the ' retaining for our own enjoyment.' This however is not at all what is meant, but rather the following. ' A ' certain sum of money, a certain amount of self-abne- ' gation, being fixed^ as that from which the poor are ' to be relieved — is it preferable that this sum should * be partly given to those of whom we know nothing, ' or that it should be wholly devoted to persons into ' whose circumstances we can fully inquire?' Now 1 suppose the ' moral judgment,' Avhich all would pro- nounce, as soon as the case proposed is really under- stood, is of the following kind : ' our answer must de- ' pend on the question, whicJi of the two courses is more ' conducive to the sph'itual and temporal benefit of the ' poor as a class? that course is moralh/ preferable^ ' which is the more conducive to such welfare' This is the only judgment in the case, whereof ' lawful,' or ' wrong,' or ' moi-ally preferable,' stands as predicate ; and this therefore is the only one which is properly a 'moral judgment.' Thus the real difficulty here does 138 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. not lie with the action of the ' scales,' but with the pre- liminary action, of getting together the right 'parcels' which are to be weighed. The really douljtful part of the question, I say, does not lie within the sphere, within reach, of the Moral Faculty at all ; even a Saint might judge quite mistakenly upon it : it has to be solved, as best it may, by a careful use of our other intellectual faculties.* 67. So far then I have frankly admitted the insuffi- ciency of the Moral Faculty, for the determination of moral truth. But there are other instances, and those far more really important,, in which the growth of this Faculty is our one safe and sufficient means of arriving at such truth. I allude particularly to the question, what are virtuous ends of action (see nn. 54 and 62); and I say that tJiis question is at last far more practically important than any other. We have seen that he is subjectively the best man, whose will is ordinarily fixed, with the greatest degree of firmness and efficacity, on the various good ends of action what- ever they may be. (See nn. 58, 59.) Our own per- sonal progress in goodness then, depends on our know- ledge, what these virtuous ends really are ; and it does not depend on our knowledge of any other moral truths whatever. Suppose a man could direct his conduct consistently to the (supposed) virtuousness of pride or vindictiveness, he would become, not the better but the worse man, in actual proportion to the steadiness and perseverance of his moral action : it becomes therefore inappreciably important, to shew that such a result is utterly impossible ; that it is ab- solutely and totally repugnant to the constitution of our nature. But let us assume that he made bona fide ever such great mistakes, as to what is the morally preferable way of relieving the poor; or what is the degree of violence which he may innocently use in self-defence ; or in what cases he may lawfully receive * I give this as an illustration of what is meant by my principle. I should be very sorry if it were thought that I myself disapprove the habit of giving, under various circumstances, to unknown beggars. ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL EULE. 139 interest for liis money ; or on a tliousand other such ques- tions. Well — I am not in the least wishing to under- state the serious mischief of this; hut evidently such mischief is different, not in degree merely but in kind^ from the tremendous evil which must ensue, on the j)recedbiir hypothesis; on the hypothesis of a continued mistake in regard to the truly virtuous ends of action. Now as to these virtuous ends of action, three in particular (n. 62) remained for consideration ; Humility, Forgivingness, Purity. Let us take them in this order. 68. As to pride, it is very certain that its sinful- ness is no matter of universal intuition. It is plain enough indeed, that to pride myself on what I know to he morally wrong — on the success of my knavery or of my lawless violence, — cannot hut itself be morally evil and detestable. Again, to pride myself on my ancient birth or extreme wealth — no one (I suppose) will think this virtuous ; though as to the degree of its viciousness, there will be great difference of opinion. But suppose I pride myself on what I believe to be good and virtuous. There are multitudes of men, who are just, benevolent, grateful, in their external con- duct, mainly and principally for this reason ; that they would be ashamed of themselves if they acted differ- ently. This was particularly the case, with those hea- thens who are popularly called virtuous.* Cato is punctiliously just in his dealings; for it would greatly lower the illustrious Cato in his own eyes, if he were not so. He fulfils the various duties of a just man and a good citizen, so ftir as he understands those duties, from the same motive. Month after month and year after year, he inhales the sweet incense of his own * I am very far from meaning that heathens perform no really virtuous acts at all. In the theological portion of our work, we shall have again and again to consider the very impoi'tant condemnation of Baius's proposition, ' Omnia opera infidelium sunt peccata,' and of his follower's, ' Necesse est infidelem in omni opore peccare.' On the other hand we shall also have to consider the Church's singularly emphatic enunciation, ' Fortitu- dincm gentilium mundana cupiditas . . . facit.' — Cone. Arausicnnn'/n, canon 17. 140 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. esteem ; and be is thus ever increasing that intense appre- ciation, wherewith he regards his own dignity. At length, it seems the one obviously virtuous course, tiiat he shall stab himself, I'atber than that so exalted a clia- racter should undergo the ignominy of falling into his enemy's power. Such is heathenism; and there have been many Protestants in various ages, hardly better than heathens, Avho have loudly applauded his con- duct.* This habit, of priding ourselves on our sup- posed virtue, requires such careful and frequent con- sideration in Theology, that it should have a distinct name of its own. I will consistently therefore call it ' moral pride.' And I ask, can it be shewn by reason, against these heathens and heathenish Protestants, that their intuitions on the virtuousness of moral pride are totallv mistaken ? * " The celebrated Roman patriot, Cato, stabbed him.self when besieged at Utica, rather than fall into the hands of Csesar. He thought this a very great action, and so have many others besides. In like manner Saul, in Scripture, fell on his sword when defeated in battle ; and there have been those who reproached Napoleon for not having blown out his brains on the field of Waterloo. Now, if these advocates of suicide had been asked why they thought such conduct, under such circumstances, noble, perhaps they would have returned the querist no answer ; as if it were too plain to talk about, or from contempt of him, as if he were a person without any sense of houour, any feeling of what becomes a gentleman, of what a soldier or hero owes to himself. That is, they would not bring out their first principle, from the very circumstance that they felt its power so intensely ; that first principle being, that there is no evil so great in the whole universe, visible and invisible, in time and eternity, as humiliation " In the in.stance I have mentioned, the folly and the offence, in the eyes of the Romans, was proselytizing ; but let us fancy this got over, would the Christian system itself have pleased tlie countrymen of Cato at all better 1 On the contrary, they would have started with his first principle, that humiliation was immoral, as an axiom ; they would not have attempted to prove it ; they would have considered it as much a fact as the sun in heaven ; they would not have enunciated it ; they would have merely implied it. Fancy a really candid philosopher, who had been struck with the heroic deaths of the martyrs, turning with a feeling of good-will to consider the Christian ethics ; what repugnance would he not feel towards them! to crouch, to turn the cheek, not to resist, to love to be loivest ! Who ever heard of such a teaching ? It was the religion of slaves ; it ivas unworthy of a man; much more of a Roman. Yet that odious religion in the event became the creed of c ouutless millions ; what philosophers so spontaneously and instinctively condemned, has been professed by the profouudest and the noblest of men, through eighteen centuries. So possible is it for our first principles to be but the opinion of a multitude, not ti'uths.' — Newman on Catholicism in England, pp. 268, 269, and 275, 276. ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL RULE, 141 Our thesis on the growth of the Moral Faculty affords us a ready means for doing so. If there be certain acts intrinsecally evil, and before examination a man cannot tell how many there may be, — there is an objective rule, indefinite in extent, external to himself, which legitimately claims his abject deference and sub- mission ; a rule, which possesses over him nothing less than a paramount authority, from which there is no appeal and no escape. Reason, I say, summons him to exhibit this deference and submission; and yet this pseudo-virtuous heathen has totally failed in doing so. He has pursued his darling pleasure self-esteem, with the very same keen, impetuous, unreserved, eagerness, with wdiicli the ambitious man pursues honour, or the money-getter wealth. He has no more checked and restrained himself in the violent pursuit of his charac- teristic pleasure, than they in the pursuit of theirs. The main difference between him and them is simply this ; that whereas he derives his favourite enjoyment from the thought of his own virtuousness, such imagination of virtuousness is continually in his mind. But as for anything like subjection to an external, authoritative, paramount, rule, you will find no more trace of it in his conduct than in theirs. Indeed let us consider on what ground we should justly blame those other characters, the ambitious and monev-aettino; • for whatever aro-ument can be found available against them, will tell no less forcibly against Cato himself. We should say that they are culpable for this cause — because, having fullest means of know- ing this Supreme Rule, in their conduct they have ignored it; they have turned a deaf ear to the Moral Voice within them ; and instead of carefully measuring their acts, one after another, by this paramount autho- rity, they have recklessly and unrestrainedly pursued the bent of their various inclinations. All the essential part of this may be said, with equal truth, against the morally proud. He, like they, has recklessly and unreservedly pursued the bent of his dominant inclina- tion ; in him, no more than in them, will be found any 142 PUlLUSOi'IIlCAL INTRODUCTION. traces of abject and slavish submission to a superior authority. His Moral Faculty then is simply in its infancy ; it has received no real growth whatever ; his moral intuitions deserve neitlier respect nor even con- sideration. Now surely it needs no very careful observation of human nature to see, that if he once began that course of life to which reason summons him, liis moral judg- ments would begin to undergo a total revolution. In proportion as he should even aim at pursuing the path of humble deference to this supreme authority, however feeble and vacillating his progress along that path, he would see that his former course contained in itself hardly any element of virtue ; he would see that virtue consists, and can consist, in nothing else, than in this submission and prostration of the will. In other words, in proportion as his Moral Faculty should receive any kind of cultivation, he would recognize pride as sinful, and humility in its place as the virtuous end of action. It is very certain indeed, that the Authority whose absolute and peremptory claims he will thus learn to recognize, is no mere abstract Rule^ but a Personal Being.* I have already said, that from the first moment wdien we begin seriously thinking of moral obligation, we shall begin to recognize the Existence of an All- holy Creator. And here I may add to this, that nothing will more tend to increase the strength, earnest- ness, rootedness, of this recognition, than firm and con- sistent moral action. f It is true that, as I have avoided * See Appendix to this Chapter. t " What is the main gnide of the soul, given to the whole race of Adam, outside the true fold of Christ as well as within it, given from the first dawn of reason, given to it in spite of that grievous penalty of ignorance, which is one of the chief miseries of our fallen state 1 It is the light of conscience ; the 'True Light,' as the same Evangelist says in the same passage, ' which enlighteneth every man that cometh into this world.' Whether a man be born in Pagan darkneKS, or in some corruption of revealed religion, — whether he has heard the name of the Saviour of the world or not, — whether he be the slave of some superstition, — or is in possession of some portions of Scripture, and treats the inspired word as a sort of philosophical book, which lie interprets for himself, and comes to certain conclusions about its teaching, — in any case, he has within his breast a certain commanding dictate ; not a meie sentiment, not a mere opinion, or impi-ession, or view of things, but a law, cm authoritative voice. ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATUUAE KULIO. 143 entering on the pliilosophical proof of God's Existence, I am not entitled to make use of it in my reasoning : but I have not made use of it; as the following sum- mary of my argument will prove. I have shewn then (1) that the very existence of moral obligation implies the obligatoriness of a certain course of conduct; the course of abject deference to an external rule : and (2) that every human being, in proportion as he sincerely tries to pursue that course, intues, with ever-increasing distinctness, that moral pride is intrinsecally sinful. On these two grounds I base my conclusion, that this intuition is legitimate. And a fully sufficient ground is aiforded for this inference, by the second thesis of n. 65 ; even as that thesis would stand, without any reference to the Existence of a Holy Creator. But if it be further true (as it is) that, by beginning -the same course of conduct, we come at once bidding him do certain things and avoid others. I do not say that its particular injunctions are always clear, or that they are always consistent with each other ; but what I am insisting on here is this, that it commands, that it praises, it blames, it promises, it threatens, it implies a future, and it witnesses of the unseen. It is more than a man's own self. The man himself has not power over it, or only with extreme difficulty. He did not make it ; he cannot destroy it. He may silence it in particular cases or directions ; he may distort its enunciations ; but he cannot, or it is quite the exception if he can, he cannot emancipate himself from it. He can disobey it ; he may refuse to use it; hut it remains. " This is conscience ; and, from the nature of the case, its very existence carries on our minds to a Being Exterior to ourselves, for else whence did it come \ and to a Being Superior to oui'selves, else whence its strange, troublesome peremptoriness % I say, without going on to the question what it says, and whether its particular dictates are always as clear and consistent as they might be, its very existence throws us out of ourselves, and beyond ourselves, to go and seek for Him in the height and depth, whose Voice it is. As the sunshine implies that the sun is in the heavens, though we see it not; as a knocking at our doors at night implies the presence of one outside in the dark who asks for admittance ; — so this Word within us, not only instructs us up to a certain point, but necessarily raises our minds to the idea of a Teacher, an unseen Teacher ; and in proportion as ice listen to that Word and use it, not only do we learn more from it, not only do its dictates become clearer and its lessons broader and its principles more consistent, but its very tone is louder and more authoritative and constraining. And thus it is, that to those who use what they have, more is given ; for, beginning with obedience, they go on to the intimate perception and belief of One God. His Voice within them witnesses to Him, and they believe His own witness about Himself. They believe in His Existence, not because others say it, not on the word of man merely, but with a personal apprehension of its truth." — JVewman^s OccasioU'd Sermons, pp. ■o_ /o. 144 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. to the clear knoAvledge of an All-lioly Being, in Whose comparison we are but as worms or the very dust of the earth, — it does but follow that the force of our con- clusion is increased a thousand-fold. That a reasonable person shall recognize a Holy and an Intinite Creator, and yet in his daily conduct (instead of striving to grow in humble obedience to that Creator) shall delibe- rately aim at the promotion of his own dignity and aggrandizement — this is a spectacle, the utter and monstrous unreasonableness of which must strike the most casual thinker, wlio has given any real cultivation to his Moral Faculty. I speak, as my argument leads me, of its monstrous unreasonableness; on its moral odiousness, it is not necessary that I should speak. We have added then Humility to our catalogue of virtuous ends. 69. We next come to Vindictiveness. There are various men, who regard this as an eminently virtuous end of action ; who consider that when I liave received a serious affront or injury, a kind of obligation rests upon me to requite it; that until I have done so, I am in a low and contemptible position. What is to be said, on our principles, in opposition to such a view? First, such an opinion is very far from being so general as at first sight appears. Again and again the wrong case is presented to the Moral Faculty for its judgment (see n. 66); for it is supposed by multitudes, as a matter of course, that the forgiving an injury proceeds from cowardice. Here then they are wrong as to the matter of fact, but not as to the moral prin- ciple ; for it is a thing worthy of blame, that I should so give way to fear, as to be held back ])y it from conduct which I recognize as right. The real question then must be put in some such way as the following : — Suppose that by great deeds of bravery, or in whatever way, I had shewn most plainly, that fear of danger could be to me no restraint upon action; and suppose, having so exhibited myself, I freely forgive the most stinging injuries, on the expressed ground that vin- dictiveness is sinful. The question is, how great is the ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL RULE. 145 number of men, who in tJiat case would regard such forgivingness as censurable? Those wlio do so, would proceed on one, and one only, ground. They would assume, as a first principle, the great obligation incumbent on each man, of cherish- ing a sense of his own dignity ; and they would regard forgivingness as censurable, precisely because any one, who receives an affront without resenting it, must lower himself in his own eyes, and be deficient in that spirit of self-exaltation which is so great a duty. The sup- posed virtuousness of revenge is entirely built on the supposed virtuousness of self-exaltation. Their judg- ment then is not intuitive, but inferential ; being based on the premiss alcove mentioned. But this premiss has been overthrown (I think) in the preceding number; we have shewn that there is no kind of virtuousness in self-exaltation : and the premiss failing, the conclusion also fails. Indeed whoever will attend at all carefully to the phenomena of the human mind, will see quite clearly the following fact. In proportion as I live more and more in subjection to an external rule, which I recog- nize as possessing over me a paramount claim — immea- surably more, in proportion as I regard that paramount authoi-ity to be no mere abstract rule, but the Personal and Living God — in that proportion the following result will ensue. I shall recognize more and more clearly and unmistaka])ly, that there is no baseness whatever in the spirit of forgivingness, no virtuousness whatever in revenge as such. We cannot indeed claim this judgment as intuitive, for the reason already given; but it is an inference which will be more and more cer- tainly drawn, in proportion as my intuitive ']\n\gme\\t on the virtuousness of humility becomes more emphati- cally elicited. We have already remarked (n. 54), that on the one hand all mankind regard various acts as virtuous simply because they are benevolent; whereas no one ever re- garded an act as virtuous simply because it was cruel. To this we are now able further to add, that neither can any act of aggression on others be truly regarded as L 146 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. virtuous, simply because it was done in revenge for some injury, which had been previously received at their liands. You may object, that I have not proved vindictive- ness to be wrongs but merely not to be of ohligation. Why may it not he lawful to rec[uite an insult or injury, simply for the sake of that vindictive pleasure which we derive from so doing? I reply readily. We have seen (n. 55) that it is undoubtedly wrong to contra- vene any virtuous end, except for the sake of some other obligation, which we may regard as justly pre- ponderating. Now Benevolence is most undoubtedly one of these virtuous ends. Hence it is undoubtedly wrong to contravene Benevolence — i. e. to inflict an injury on our fellow-men — except for the sake of some other obligation. Now we have just proved, that there is no kind oi ohligation to requite an injury vindictively ; hence, neither is it lawful so to do. 70. What then will be the various motives, which can justify infliction of pain on our fellow-men? They are reducible perhaps to three heads : — (1.) Self-defence. If a burglar attacks me with every species of violence, no other way is probably open of repelling his aggression, except repaying him in kind. Or, passing from tlie mere physical infliction of pain, it will often happen that I cannot vindicate my just rights, without being the cause (contrary to my wish) of much suffering to others. Yet tlie motives, which lead me to such vindication, may most rightly preponderate over those which would dissuade me from it. This again is one principal end, designed by the civil society in lier infliction of punishments. Violent and unruly men would literally tear lier asunder, were they not restrained by a salutary fear of her severe penalties. (2.) Moral improvement of the offender. Thus parents ])unish their chihlren to wean them from bad habits. Tliis also is one motive (though subordinate to the former) wliicli leads society to enact penalties affainst transo:ressors. ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL RULE. 147 (3.) Just retribution for moral evil. It lias been the fjisliion of late years, to deny in theory that the state can legitimately act on this motive. To discuss this question as it deserves, would carry us a great deal too far ; I will content myself therefore with protesting most earnestly against any such notion. Indeed if the legislator attempted really to put it in practice — if he attempted, in his apportionment of punishments, wholly to neglect the relative turpitude of the various offences, and consider exclusively their relative injuriousness to the state — I am confident he would be met by an universal cry of horror and indignation. However, whatever may be the functions of the state^ no Theist will deny that God acts on this prin- ciple ; that the very idea of a Just moral Governor includes the notion of punishing sin, no less than of rewarding virtue. And generally, all God's direct inflictions on man may be classed perhaps under one or other of the three foregoing heads. ( 1 . ) Thus He punishes, not indeed exactly for the purpose of Self-defence, but for the purpose of defending and sanctioning His Laws. The punishments which He inflicts on us here, and very much more those which He threatens hereafter, are among the most effectual means whereby He retains mankind in obedience. (2.) He punishes in this life from the motive of paternal tenderness ; for the sake of awakening men to a sense of their fiiults, and giving them an occasion for self-discipline and merit : ' for whom the Lord loveth ' He chastiseth, and scourgeth every son whom He ' receiveth.' (3.) Those awful inflictions, which He will inflict on wicked men hereafter, are but the just retribution of the fearful 'malitia' contained in mortal sin. The heinous character of this ' malitia' will be considered in our theological course. 71. We shall be returning more nearly to our immediate subject, if we here consider another question. ' Is Forgivingness a separate and special virtuous end of 148 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. ' action ? or is it only reducible to the more general head ' of Benevolence ? ' One thing is plain at starting. Suppose I have received some most galling injury or affront, and yet proceed at once to confer some great kindness on the aggressor ; my will must be directed to the virtuousness of Benevolence with a singular degree of firmness and efficacity. But then my will may be directed with the mme degree of efficacity (see n. 58), when I am bene- fiting some one who has not injured me. The acting rightly under temptation, shews greater virtuousness than could otherwise be shewn ; but it does not prove that greater virtuousness exists^ than might otherwise exist. Now for the question started: it is not very im- portant, but its true answer appears to me the follow- ing. In the case of us men — whose wills are so weak, and who are so constantly offending our Creator — Forgivingness is a special virtue, when based on the remembrance that we ourselves so deeply need forgive- ness. But in rational creatures who should not be thus full of sin — or in ourselves when our forgiveness of others is not based on remembrance of our own sinful- ness — then I can see nothins; to distin2;uish an act of forgivingness, from any other act (internal or external) of benevolence. 72. Lastly we come to the virtue of Purity. In one very important respect, this virtue should rather be classed with those of Justice, Veracity, aud Benevolence, which we first considered, than with those of Humility and Forgivingness, which have been lately occupying our attention. For just as no one ever considered an act as virtuous, simply because it was cruel or mendacious ; — so neither did any one ever consider an act virtuous, simply because it was impure. No doubt there are many most frightful sins under this head, which nmlti- tudes of men do not regard as sinful at all ; yet no one thinks them virtuous, on the ground o/the great sensu- ality which is involved in their commission. Take then the worst and most depraved man alive. There are ON THE EXTENT OE THE NATUllAL RULE. 149 certain of the more atrocious impurities, which evcu he regards as censurable; and if 1 avoid these atrocities simply because of the virtuousness of Purity, I should receive (so far) his praise. Just then as in the case of Justice and Benevolence, so here. There are certain acts which are considered good, because directed, under certain circumstances, to the virtuousness of Purity as such ; there are 7io acts which are considered good, because of being directed to any su])posed virtuousness inherent in impurity as such. By the consent of all mankind then. Purity is a virtuous end of action. But in another respect, P»irity should rather be ranked with Humility and Forgivingness ; for there is no virtue, in which we see with more unmistakable clearness, the increase of discern7nent which the Moral Faculty acquires by means of exercise. Let any man act up to his light in this matter, so far as he has the moral power of so doing, and by help of constant prayer, — and contemplate the certain result. It is truly amazing, how rapidly his moral perception will expand ; and how soon he will see foulness and pollution in a multitude of acts, which he has hitherto regarded as indifferent. 73. We have established then on grounds of reason — and it is difficult adequately to estimate the import- ance of our conclusion — that virtuous ends of action are such as the following: (1) Love of God; (2) Obe- dience to God; (3) Reverence for God; (4) Justice; (5) Veracity; (6) Benevolence; (7) Humility; (8) Forgivingness; (9) Purity. We become morally better, in proportion as our will adheres to these various ends with greater firmness and efficacity. Moreover, as will be evident on referring to what has been said, the whole of our reasoning applies, not to mankind only, but to every possible creature possessing reason and liljerty. There are but two exceptions to this statement: viz. first in regard to Purity ; and secondly in regard to that special motive for Forgivingness, which results from human sinfulness. 74. Is there any prol^able inference which we may 150 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. now draw, as to the extent of the Natural Rule? If we take the term according to that full sense suggested in n. 52, we shall find reason to think it most widely extensive. Nay, we shall find reason to thiidc that it reaches over almost every act of our daily life : that every such act has by necessity its own independent worthiness, both objective and subjective ; intrinsecally better than this, intrinsecally less good than that. Let A and B be two different acts, either of them at this moment in my power to do, and which seem on the sur- face of equal moral value. I soon find some good con- sequence, which I had not thought of before, which would ])robably result, if act A were universally elicited under such circumstances ; or some bad consequence which would ensue, if act B were thus elicited. Every fresh discovery of this kind affects the relative position of A and B in the moral scale. Then suppose that when I have exhausted all such discoveries, the two acts seem yet equally balanced — it still remains very probable, that in proportion as my Moral Faculty in- creases by exercise in keenness of perception, it will detect some difference where now none is apparent. But if it appears from reason highly probable, that the Natural Rule, as discoverable by reason in the abstract^ is thus widely extensive; — it is absolutely certain on the other hand, that our actual and practical power of exploring it by reason is trifling indeed. How utterly insignificant is our power of tracing conse- quences with any accuracy ! how miserably small is the degree, in which we have cultivated our Moral Faculty l)y the practice of virtue ! The dis]iroportion then is enormous, between the extent of the Natural Rule on the one hand, and the practical pouier of unaided reason to discover it on the other hand. Tliis is true of the Natural Rule, in that wider sense which we have given to the phrase, as the 'rule of independent virtuousness' (see n. 52) ; and it is no less true in its narrower sense the ' rule of indepen- dent ol)ligation.' Nothing is more pi-ol)a]ile, than tliat there may be a large lunnber of acts, ol)jectively sinful ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL RULE. 1")! ill their own intrinsic nature, wliicli man's unaided reason would never have guessed to be such. Their sinfuhiess, indeed, is in tlie abstract discoverable by reason. Their sinfulness, I say, could be recognized by any man, who shonld (1) possess preternatural powers of observation ; and (2) should have given perfect cultivation to his IMoral Faculty, through a course of obedience unsullied by venial sin or imperfection. But as none of us are such, the sinfulness of such acts is not (I repeat) discoverable by us ; we owe our knowledge of it to Revelation, and to Revelation alone. Now see how precisely this conclusion harmonizes with the dicta of theologians, as to the extent of the Natural Ivule in this its narrower sense. According to Suarez, it is an ' axioma theologorum ' that under Christianity there are no Positive Divine Precepts (see n. 25) except only under the head of Faith and of the Sacraments ; and he quotes a very strong passage from St. Thomas, to that precise effect.* Now without here proceeding to enquire, as Suarez does, how far even these should strictly be called Positive precepts (on which question I hope to touch in the next Section), see how large an idea this gives us as to the extent of the Natural Rule. Every single thing then, forbidden under the Gospel, — except under these two heads of Faith and the Sacraments, — is forbidden by the Natural Rule ; is intrinsecally evil, apart from any Divine Prohibition. All that we find in our floral Theology treatises under the Jirst commandment, as to love of God and our neiohbour ; all that we find under the sia^tli^ as to thoughts or acts of impurity ; or under the Jl/tk^ as to forgiving injuries ; or under the seventh, * " Intelligitur ex dictis, quomodo vcrum sit axioma theologorum diceiitium, in Novft Lege nulla esse Divina Prcecepta [Positive], nisi tidci et sacramentorum ; ut loquitur Soto in 4, d. 40, a. 4, et sequuntur alii niodcrni, et Covar. in 4 Deer. c. G, § 10, in piiuc. qui id sumpserunt ex D. Th. in dicta q. 108 a. 1, ad. 2, ubi non tarn exi)resse id affirniat ; in Quodlibet autem 4, a. 13, dicit, Legem Novam esse contentam [1] prteceptis nioralibus Naturalis Legis, et [2] avticulis Fidei, et [3] Sacrameutis Gratire." — De Legihvs, lib. 10, c. 2, u. 20. "Christus non tradidit Proecepta moralia Positiva, sed Nuturalia ilia magls explicavit^ — Ibid. lib. 2, c. IT), n. 9. 152 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. as to the duty of restitution ; all this, and much else wliicli might most easily be added, is an integral part of" the Natural Rule : all the duties therein prescribed are of independent obligation, apart from God's Command- ment altogether. It was most perfectly free to God not to create men at all, or not to place them under such circumstances ; it was not free to Him, having so created or so placed them, to abstain from giving the sanction of His connnand to these duties, over and above their intrinsic and independent obligation. 75. But here it may seem that an objection, which has already been answered in the abstract, derives fresh force and deserves fresh notice. ' If the region of ' necessary moral truth,' it may be said, ' is so singularly ' wide and extensive, you seem to exclude God from in- ' fluence in His own creation, to an absolutely intolerable ' extent.' Repeating to a great extent what has already been said, I will give three replies to this objection. I will only premise, that I am arguing for no private fancy of my own, but for what Suarez calls an ' axioma theo- lo2"orum.' (1.) First, then, I reply, that the mere extent of necessary truth cannot justly cause any increased diffi- culty to the reason^ though it may startle the imagina- tion. Let it be but admitted that there is such a thing as necessary truth, — e. g.^ that God has not the power of creating an equilateral triangle, which shall not be equiangular ; or that He has not the power of creating a person whose obligation it shall be to hate the Holy Creator; — let this be admitted, and everything is conceded which can give the reason any real difficulty. If there be one necessary truth, there may be thousands such ; the difficulty to the reason is no greater in the latter than in the former case. (2.) It will be seen in the following Section, that God does possess very considerable power, in interfering with the Natural Rule. It will be seen that this can be recognized as undeniably the case, without infringing in the slightest degree on the various principles which we hnve b(M'i) Invini;- down. ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL RULE. 153 (3.) I appeal as I did l)eforc (n. 21) to the parallel instance of mathematical truth. Will you maintain tliat the axioms of geometry are true, because of God's appointment ? Will you maintain that the reasoning process is valid, because of God's appointment ? If you will maintain neither of these things, you must admit, that the whole assemblage of mathematical truth, built by means of reasoning upon these axioms, is also true, independently altogether of God's appointment. i>ut how immeasurably vast is this great assemblage of truth ! to which indeed it is difficult to imagine that there can be any possible limit. If then necessary mathematical truth possesses most undeniably so vast an extent, why should it be thought a difficulty that necessary moral truth also is most widely extended ? * Another objection of quite a diiFerent kind may be made to our conclusion. It may be objected, that our Blessed Saviour, in various parts of the Gospel, cmi- trasts Christian morality with all others; and thereby implies, that it does in many important respects add to the Natural Law. These declarations deserve, and shall receive, our most careful attention; but the suit- al)le place for theu^ consideration will obviously be our theological course. In the next Book then, I hope to enter on the whole Scriptural bearing of our doctrine, with sufficient accuracy and completeness. 76. The principles laid down in this Section, as they seem certainly conformable to reason, so also add not in- considerably to the motives of credibility on behalf of the Catholic religion. It appears (as we have seen) from Reason alone, in the highest degree probable, that the Natural Law extends over a wide circle of human acts ; while it is certain that our unassisted reason cannot carry us beyond a most insignificant distance, in explor- ing its various details. Witli these conclusions, the voice of the Church is singularly in harmony. For theologians declare with almost complete unanimity, on the one hand, that the Natural Law is thus widely extensive ; on * See a more ilirect treatment of this whole elitiiculty in the Appendix to this Cliapter. 154 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. the other hand, that one of the most important functions performed by the Church, one of the most important ends for which God has founded it, is to declare and testify moral truth. Reason alone, it is constantly urged by Catholic writers, would ever be leading us astray in matters of morality, were it not for the Church's infallible guidance correcting such aberrations. Further, Reason, as we have seen, determines that Humility, Forgivingness, and Purity are virtuous ends of action, while their opposites can never be so. Yet of what Protestant body can it be said, that they are to any reasonable extent in possession of these truths ? On the other hand, who has realized and practised them comparably in degree to the Saints of the Church ? And is not this very fact, — their being so penetrated, so pervaded, by those principles, — the main cause why a Protestant ever so despises these illustrious servants of God; why he regards them as fanatical, narrow-minded men, totally wanting in self-respect and manly feeling ? But on all this we shall have to speak at length in our theological course. 77. Such then finally is the answer we give to that wide and general enquiry, which was laid down (n. 53) as our subject in the present Section. I must not conclude however, without putting before you our grounds for liolding that view of the Moral Faculty, which we have so largely used in the later part of the Section. What then is our reason for thinking, that the Moral Faculty increases in accuracy and precision of judgment, through the means of virtuous action? In answering this cpiestion, be it observed, I must avoid various most cogent considerations, founded on the Attributes of God; I must avoid these, I say, be- cause in the present Chapter we have declined entering on the formal proof of His existence. (1.) Tlie analogy of our other faculties suggests one clear argument to our purpose; for every one of them is capable of indefinite improvement, and yet by no other method than tliis one of constant exercise. To this argument one ingenious objection may be ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL RULE. 155 suggested. ' Our other intellectual faculties improve ' by means of intellectual acts, and in no other way : ' viz. our memory by the practice of remembering ; ' our reasoning faculty by the practice of argument ; ' and so with the rest. But you represent the Moral ' Faculty as moving towards perfection, by means ' of acts, which appertain 7iot to the intellect but the ' Will; not through practice in intellectual discrimi- ' nation between good and evil, but through prac- ' tice in acting virtuously. The analogy of the other ' fiiculties therefore, very far from being in your favour, ' is directly against you.' I reply firstly, that our whole reasoning, through- out this Section, would stand in every respect, though we did place the Moral Faculty in every respect on the very same footing with all others. There is no such phenomenon to be found, as men who exercise themselves carefully through the day, in discrimination between good and evil, between the greater and the less good, — for any other purpose except this one; the purpose, namely, of acting; in accordance with such discrimination. Those therefore who most practise the Moral Faculty are precisely those who act most consis- tently on its dictates. This must be taken as my direct reply to the objection, and it is amply sufficient. I cannot but think however myself, and that very strongly, that the practice of virtue has a direct and powerful effect on refining the iNIoral Faculty. And by introducing the thought of a Holy Creator, we can give a very good reason of congruity for this. Every other intellectual faculty attains the full end for which it was given, in proportion as w^e perform certain intellectual acts : the memory., e. g. in proportion as we more accu- rately remember the past ; the reasoning faculty in proportion as we more bring our various opinions into consistency with each other, and carry them forward to their full results. The Moral Faculty is the one excep- tion ; and for this simple reason, that it is the one which directly and immediately dictates to the will. Neither memory nor reasoning facult}^ elicit the judgment ' my 156 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. will ought to do this rather than that ; ' whereas this im- precisely the kind of judgment elicited by the Moral Faculty. So far therefore as the will fails to act in harmony with this judgment, i\\Q, faculty fails of its due results. The Moral Faculty I say, does not attain the end for which God gave it, except in proportion, not as we know our duty, but as we practise it. And it is evidently in the highest degree conformable to our natural ideas of God's Moral Government, that He should so act as our theory supposes ; that he should reward those who act up to the light they have, by imparting more light. " It would certainly involve great disadvantages," argues a very thoughtful writer, " if moral knowledge was gained by mere intellectual processes. Uneducated people would be more unable than ever to judge themselves between right and wrong: and those who were most capable of guiding them, would not neces- sarily be inclined to guide them right ; nay, by that very know- ledge would be enabled more easily to guide them wrong. Much knowledo;e of ffood would be wasted on men who did not wish to profit by it; and clever persons, without much energy of character, would be overwhelmed, by seeing at once the extent of that change of nature which they had to eifect in themselves, if they were to conform themselves to what was really right. " Now so flir as moral discrimination is acquired by practice, and not by reasoning, these imperfections are avoided. Viewed as a means of improvement for ourselves, knowledge is given where it will be used ; of power over others, where it will not be misused; — viewed as a blessing, it is given to the deserving; — viewed as a trial, it is accommodated to the infirmity of the weak. " And on the other hand, who are they who require the brand of ignorance to mark them in the sight of their fellow- creatures, who deserve to be left without knowledoe of anvthinw beyond their own miserable desires, but those who have refused to obey such knowledge? What wiser, and what juster, and what more really merciful law, than that man shall not be able to receive into his head, what lie will not receive into his heart also ? What less to be wondered at, than the sentence, dreadful as it is, that if man hardens his will, God will harden his intellect agninst truth ? Surely the true difficulty in the world, if we are to find one, is not that such a law exists, but that it does not exist inore exclusively. Surely it is only the unwarrantable value which is set on intellect in this particular age, which pre- ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL RULE. 157 vents us from seeing how very strange it would be if knowledge of this kind were given only, or even chiefly, to the wise in this world, to the sharp, clear-headed, and argumentative, and not to the humble and conscientious lover of goodness. What business would i/te^ have with such advantages?"* However, as already remarked, our direct and (as it were) formal proof of the proposition before us, must not assume God's Existence. In meeting therefore the objection wliicli has been raised, it is only the former part of my reply on wliicli I can logically insist; but this former part, as I observed, is amply sufficient. (2.) I proceed now to the second argument in behalf of our proposition; an argument which (equally with the first) prescinds from the Existence of God altogether. We have proved incontestably, that there are various genuine intuitions on moral truth : viz. all those on which all mankind are agreed ; and especially that fundamental one, that there is such a thing as moral obligation, quite apart from the Will of our Creator. Yet on the other hand, on most matters, the diversity of men's moral judgments is extreme. Are we to say that in all these matters all men's intuitions are spurious? or (which is almost as strange) that on all these matters it is quite impossible to distinguish the genuine j^y;?« the spurious? Surely, if in regard to the great bulk of human conduct, reason were wholly destitute of all intrinsic power to distinguish right from wrong, the better from the less good, a great presump- tion would arise, that its power of deciding in the few matters of universal agreement is but a delusion. The reasonableness of this statement is made more evident from the fact, that it is admitted by all mankind. Utilitarians and others, who deny intrinsic morality, have ever bviilt their chief objections on this one fact, the diversity of men's moral judgments ; while their opponents, so far from denying the relevancy of this fact, have expended all their skill and ingenuity in denying or extenuating it. Here then is the first * From a most able article on " Utilitarian Moral Philosophy," British Critic, 1841, pp. 35 and 36. 158 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. premiss of my second argument. If reason have really the intrinsic power in certain cases of perceiving moral trnth (and I have shewn ' satis superqiie' that it has this power) — it is in the very highest degree probable, that this power extends, far beyond those comparatively few cases on which all men are agreed. In other words, it is in the liighest degree probable, that there is some means of distinguishing genuine from spurious intui- tions, over and above that obvious one of men's unanimous testimony. My second premiss is, that according to the principle for which I am arguing — the principle that our Moral Faculty is developed by exercise — two things may be undoubtedly maintained. First, Reason in the abstract has the intrinsic power of advancing without limit, towards the discrimination of true moral intuitions from false, on every single detail of human conduct. Secondly, Reason in the concrete, Reason I mean as it may be exercised and is frequently exercised by men under their existing circumstances, can take a very important step in the same direction. For certainly no one can call it an unimportant proposition, that Humility and Forgivingness are virtuous ends of action, while their opposites are not so. And this proposition is held with the most complete unanimity and the strongest con- viction, by every human being who has given himself to the task of consistently practising virtue ; practising it, I mean, according to the extent of his knowledge. Mankind in general are not more unanimous in recog- nizing that cruelty and ingratitude are evil, than these men are unanimous in denouncing pride and unfor- givingness. My third premiss for this second argument is, that no other principles (so far as I know) have ever been laid down, on which there would he this approach to unanimity. Certainly, so far as this last-named moral truth is concerned, reasoni7ig has no such tendency to produce unanimity. No one will say that all good rcasoners have agreed, in deducing, from the first prin- ciples of morality, the sinfulness of pride and unfor- ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL RULE. 159 givingness. No one can say this, or anything ever so distantly approaching it. On these tliree premisses I build my second argu- ment. Firstly, it is in the highest degree probal)le, tliat there is some method, whereby reason may tend towards harmonizing the diversity of men's moral judgments ; secondly, the principles of this Section afford such a method ; and thirdly, no others which have been sug- gested hold out any such promise. Hence it is in the highest degree probable, that these principles are true. (3.) Yet at last the two arguments just given, are in their nature quite inadequate to the kind of conclu- sion, for which they are adduced. The real means, whereby the genuineness of an intuition is brought home to my conviction, vuist at last be some intrinsic quality, inherent in the intuition itself; and not some merely extrinsic fact, such as the general agreement of mankind. Of what nature that quality is, and how it may be securely recognized, is a question which seems to have been most unduly neglected by philoso- phers (see n. 9); but of the fact just stated there can be no doubt. In regard to two of our faculties indeed, those of rememl)ering and of reasoning, it lias already been shewn (n. 10, p. 21) that we are actually compelled to trust them, before we can so much as guess that there is any agreement of mankind on the matter. But take other instances also ; take the truth, e. g-. that a pentagon nmst have five anccles, or that I am bound to restore my friend's jewel : surely it is quite plain, that my convic- tion of these truths is absolute and ineradicable, before I have so much as considered the question whether ofJier men ag;ree with me or not. And indeed this intrinsic difference of quality, in a genuine as distinguished from a spurious intuition, un- deniably exists ; however difficult it may be to analyse or explain it. Dreams, e. g. abound in spurious intui- tions. I believe myself to see what I do not see, and to remember what never took place ; nor does a doubt cross my mind, on the reality of the whole scene. I wake ; and I begin really to see, really to remember. I 160 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. intue with the most unmistakable distinctness, not merely that my waking impressions correspond to trutli, but that my sleeping impressions have not so corre- sponded. A distinction, exactly similar in kind though less in degree, may be found in every case, accordingly as any individual faculty has or has not been duly ex- ercised. A novice in music pronounces, with perfect confidence, that a light air of Donizetti's is preferable to a symphony of Beethoven. He gives himself for years to the study, and at the end of that time hears again the same two compositions. It is not merely true that his present intuition is opposed to his first; he recog- nizes most unmistakably a difference of quality between these two intuifioiis. I repeat; it is not merely that, when thinking of the music, he elicits an intuition opposite to that which he remembers to have elicited several years ago : a further phenomenon also takes place. Whe7i thinking of that first intuition, he plainly discerns in it a faulty and untrustworthy character. As a matter of fact, the case is most undoubtedly the same with moral judgments. A man of the world holds, with the utmost confidence, that self-exaltation is a virtuous end of action, and that he would rio-htlv lower himself in his own eyes, by allowing an insult to go unrequited : he holds with no less confidence, that it is simply absurd, to regard the more ordinary sins of impurity as lessening a man's title to respect and admiration. He happily yields himself to the grace of God, and for years makes it his chief business to adjust his moral conduct, so far as possible, in every particular to his ideas of moral rectitude. At the end of that time, he recognizes the virtuousness of humility, the viciousncss of impure thoughts, with a degree of clearness which it is impossible to exceed. It is really no exaggeration at all to say, that he has no m.ore the j)hysicnl power of calling in question the truth of these intuitions, than he has of distrusting his memory or his reasoning faculty. Indeed the difference is much greater, between ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL IIULE. 161 the judgments wliich ]n'oceed from the trained Moral Faculty on the one hand and the untrnined on the other, — than in the case of any other faculty whatever. And it is very easy to see the reason; viz. that the difference in the degree of training is greater in the case of this faculty than of any other. Take the musical faculty for instance. He who cultivates it most assiduously, will give to it a certain numl)er of hours in each day ; while he who cultivates it least., hears probably one or other piece of music in every month. In the Moral Faculty on the contrary, the Saint, in almost every waking minute of every day, is pursuing that course which tends to its refinement and per- fection ; while the careless liver, ' who remembers not God, neither is God in all his thoughts,' floats un- resistingly along the current of his inclinations, and never from the motive of duty denies himself one gratification. A theological difficulty here however may be raised, of the following kind. ' Faith is the one means of ' merit ; but if the saint thus clearly intues moral truth, ' how can he accept it on faitli ? In j)roportion, there- ' fore, as a man becomes saintly, there is a constantly ' increasing proportion of his acts in which he cannot * merit. A more monstrous conclusion cannot Avell be ' imagined.' I mention this difficulty, merely to shew that I have not overlooked it. It cannot be treated of course, until we have methodically considered the exact instrumentality of faith towards justification and merit. But when this has been clearly understood, it will be found that the above difficulty disappears of itself. 78. One concluding question will be asked, in regard to the statements here put forward : how far do they accord with those usually recognized by Catholic theo- logians and philosophers? I proceed to answer this question. (1.) These writers always admit the existence of moral intuitions, which serve as premisses, from which M 162 PHILOSOPniCAL INTRODUCTION. the more remote truths of morality are to be deduced. Thus we have seeu that Suarez speaks of these two truths as dictamina ratiouis, ' Deus est colendus,' ' parentes suut honoraudi.' Now man's perception of these truths is simply a moral intuition in our sense of the word. The idea of deservino; honour is not included in the term 'our parents;' all which is meant by that term is, ' those two human beings who have been God's instruments in brino-ins: me into the world.' When therefore I recognize as a 'dictate of reason' (and I do, according to Suarez, so recognize it) that these human beings justly claim my honour, I am simply eliciting a real intuitive judgment. (2.) Yet these writers do not (I think) in general distinctly state, that my correctness in forming such judgments will increase, in proportion as I more con- sistently practise the duties which I know. On the contrary, in regard to those moral truths w^iich are not recognized by all mankind, these writers seem to regard such truths as known to us mainly in quite a different way ; viz. by logical deduction from those moral truths which are universally admitted. In laying stress therefore on the increased power of discern- ment, accruing (as we maintain) to the Moral Faculty from moral practice, we lay stress on a principle, which has not been inculcated at all prominently by Catholic theologians or philosophers. At the same time Gioberti, as we have seen (u. 66, note), does distinctly state it; and for my own part (as has been said) I cannot but regard it as altogether conformable to reason. (3. ) Moreover there is a very great analogy, between this principle, and the doctrine laid down by all theolo- gians, as to the means of arriving at faith. For all say that in proportion as men, by the help of grace, act up to their existing light, God rewards them by imparting further knowledge. (4.) But indeed the common instinct of Catholics, in regard to Saints, implies (I cannot but think) the whole principle which we have maintained. We Catholics ON THE EXTENT OF THE NATURAL liULE. 163 are in the habit of regarding the dicta of Saints, as singularly authoritative in matters of morality and piety ; and this, not with reference to their greater or less degree of learning or aljility, but to the simple fact of their hei7ig Saints. What does this mean, except that their moral perceptions have become in a special degree elevated and refined, by their consistent virtue? Yet, on the other hand, suppose that through defect of their other intellectual faculties they are unable rightly to apprehend any particular case submitted to them, this is always considered pro tanto to derogate from the authority of their judgment. Our principle then, in both its leading features, seems to be sanctioned by Catholic instinct. (5.) I cannot but think, that the explicit and distinct admission of our principle would make the vindication of Catholic doctrine far more satisfactory, in one or two important particulars : specially as regards the various virtues under the head of purity. Take, as an instance, the offences mentioned in those two con- demned jiropositions, which we have already more than once considered. (See n. 27, p. 63.) We are required by the condemnation of those propositions, to hold that such oflfences are in all possible cases intrinsecally evil, apart from all Divine Prohibition. Now whether we turn to Viva, Milante, or Van Ranst, surely the reasons, adduced in behalf of this conclusion, seem painfully inadequate, to sustain the weight which is rested upon them. And the reason of the fact is obvious. These theologians consider themselves bound to prove, that the moral theses, for which they argue, are inferrible, by way of logical deduction^ from those moral theses which are universally admitted. Now this, to say the least, is an allegation which it is very difficult to maintain. On the other hand, it is most intelligible, and most con- sistent with phenomena, to say, that in proportion as any man grows in his obedience, — his Moral Faculty, becoming more and more enlightened, will come to elicit, more and more keenly, a legitimate intuition of 164 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. such iuliereiit pravity. Keason shews at least that the fact veiy probably may be so ; the Church's decision might complete all that was wanting in the way of cer- tainty, and assure us that the fact is so. And thus at length I bring this arduous Section to a close. 165 Section VII. On God's Power of Interference with the Natural Rule. 79. By interference may be meant either addition to the Natural Rule or subtraction from it. I do not mention of course change ; for this is merely subtrac- tion of one thing and addition of another. 80. In regard to addition, it must first be remarked, that in a very true sense, God's free Will alone is the cause, that this Natural Rule exists at all ; for it arises wholly from His good pleasure, that free and rational creatures have been called into existence. Accordingly, every fresh combination of circumstances, in which He places such creatures, may cause in a very true sense an addition to the Natural Rule; for a certain moral obligation may be thereby binding on a rational crea- ture, which otherwise would not be binding on any such creature. The chief matter, which deserves our attention under this head, is the great increase accruing to the Natural Rule, from the Christian Revelation. To give instances of this. It was perfectly free to God, either that He should, or should not, place before men a Revelation of Divine Truth. But when He has done so, it becomes independently obligatory, on all who Iiave means of knowing this revelation, firmly to believe the truths therein contained. Again, as it was perfectly free to Him that the Second Person should be Incarnate, so it was also free to Him that this most august truth should be communicated to men. But when once it has been communicated, there arises an independent obliga- tion to adore the Incarnate Saviour with divine icor- ship. It was free to Him whether He would work, and also whether He would reveal, the miracle of 166 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. Traiisiibstantiation ; but when He has wrought and revealed it, men are under the independent obligation of paying divine homage to that God, Who lies hid under the Sacramental species.* 81. A far more_ difficult and more important ques- * "Eo ipso quod mysteria fidei sujficienter proponantur, intrinsecd et ex naturd rei sequitur obligatio credendi quse proposita sunt " Sed instabis ; ' quia in Lege Nova non tantum est prpeceptum cre- ' dendi ha3c mysteria, quasi ex suppositione revelationis ct propositionis ' rei-um credendarum, sed etiam est absolutum, prceceptum ea audiendi et ' sciendi, et consequenter credendi ; quod est prseceptum longe diversum, et ' shnpliciter positivum : ergo quoad hoc negavi non potest, quin Lex Nova in ' materia fidei addiderit positiva preecepta. Assumptum declaratur, quia ' hoc prteceptum fidei, secundum ordinariam legem, applicatur hominibus ' per auditum ; teste Paulo ad Roman. 10 : ergo ut homines possint obligari ad * credendum, necesse est ut obligentur ad audiendum ; ei'go per aliquod prae- ' ceptum, quod sub nulla consideratione potest dici natui'ale, sed positivum. ' Et declaratur ampliiis : nam fideles tenentur nunc explicite credere mys- ' terium verb. grat. Triuitatis, vel lucarnatiouis, ex Jure Di vino, quia talis fides ' est nunc medium necessarium ad salutem (ut suppono) ; lisec autem neces- ' sitas involvit prajceptum divinum, quod non potest esse, nisi absolutum et ' positivum : nam illud pi-ius, quasi conditionatum, credendi ea quae reve- ' lantur, non sufiiceret ad dictam necessitatem : nam sine violatione hujus ' prsecepti hypothetici, ut sic dicam, posset quis nunquam credere exjslicite ' Trinitatem, ant Christum ; ergo, ut ad hoc obligentur fideles, necessarium ' est speciale -prddCQ^twrn positivum et absolutum. Item in Pastoi'ibus Eccle- ' sise est obligatio prsedicandi et docendi hanc fidem, ex j)r8ecepto Christi ; * "Docete omnes gentes, et predicate Evangelium ;" imdeest illud Pauli 1. ' ad Corinth. 9. " Necessitas enim mihi incumbit, vae enim mihi est, si non ' evangelizavero :" hoc autem ^vxcQiAwvii positivum etiam est.' " Incipiendo ab hoc ultimo, majoris claritatis gratia, rcspondeo, prae- ceptum illud praidicandi vel docendi, datum pastoribus Ecclesise, in radice, id est in institutione, esse positivum ; inse autem et for maliter esse naturale. Munus enim episcopale seu pastorale est in Ecclesia ex positiva institutione Christi, ut ut per se constat : supposito autem tali munere, obligatio docendi aut prcedicandi' Evangelium de Jure Divino Naturali est. pertinens ad obli- gationem juatitise et fidelitatis, quie intrinsech ex tali munere nascitur; quod significavit Paulus supra diceus, " Dispensatio mihi ci'edita est." Ad primum ergo in primis respondeo, cum proportione, non esse necessarium, ut ex parte audieutium prsecedat speciale prceceptum positivum audiendi doctrinam, vel pra3dicationem fidei. Nam si sit sermo de hominibus nondum credentibus in Christum, illi non sunt capaces obligationis provenientis ex praecepto supernaturali, donee illis sufficienter proponatur fides ; quia propositio supponit auditum : ergo antea non potest prajcederc obligatio audiendi, proveniens ex supernaturali prajcepto. Igitur nulla obligatio proeccdit ex parte audientixmi, sed tantum ex pai'te prcedicantium. Quse moraliter reputari potest sufficiens ; quia si ex parte evangelizantium sit zelus et solicitudo, non deerunt qui de facto audiant ; ad quod magis trahendi sunt, suavi inductionc invitando illos, qu^m rigorosa obligatione. Vel ccrtu quando ha)c obligatio incipit, magis est ex ratione naturali, quam ex lege supernaturali. Quia homo naturaliter tenetur veram Dei cognitionem : veramque fclicitatem qucerere : unde quomodocunquc, vel per vocem pracdicationis, vel per faraam, vel per pioprium discursum, inccperit god's power of interference with natural rule. 1G7 tion, is God's power of suhtracfing from the Natural Rule. In treating tliis, I shall follow the doctrine, laid down by the inuiiense majority of Catholic theo- logians and philosophers ; and I will sufficiently shew dubitarc dc smt lege vel statu, tcnebitur eis attendere, qui viam salutis docere profitentur : ergo respectu iufidelium, non est necessarium ponere hoc speciale proeceptum positivum. Ncc[uc enim respectu jam credentium in Christum ; tum quia illi jam obhgantur prajcepto charitatis infusa) erga se ipsos, ad propriam salutem spiritualem quajrendam, at consequenter ad audiendum Dei verhum, quando ad suam salutem fuerit necessarivm : neque enim ex Jure Divino majorem habcDtobligationem. Et simili rnodo tcneri poterunt ad audiendam doctrinam fidei, quando fuerit necessarium ad cre- dendum quant/iim oportet; tunc autem obligatio nascitur ex ipsomet praecepto fidei, de quo diceudum superest. "Ad alteram ergo partem respondeo, admittendo, in Lege Nova esse specialem necessitatem fidei explicitse, tam ad justitiam, quam ad salutem seteruam consequendam : concedendo item, hanc necessitatem provenire ex pcculiari institutione Christi Domini ; quse positiva sine dubio est, ctim non fuerit simpliciter necessaria. Unde fit etiam consequens, prteceptum talis fidei, prout est proprium Legis Novae, et Divinum Positivum censeri posse, saltem ratione institutionis. Positd autem institutione respectu illius et statfia Legis Gratise, tale proeceptum merito existimari potest con- naturale illi. Primo, quia pra3ceptum recognoscendi Auctorem Legis et obediendi Illi, est valde counaturale cuicunque legi ; ad hoc autem necessaria est expressa, et distincta cognitio Ejus : cum ergo Christus sit Auctor hujus Legis, valde connaturale est illi prfeceptum credendi in Christum. Cum hoc autem conjunctum est prseceptum cognoscendi Trinitatem, ut nunc suppono ; quia ciim Christus sit Secunda Trinitatis Persona, non potest haberi fides de Illo sufiicienter esplicita sine fide explicita Trinitatis. Secundo, quia fides prsecipitur, non soliim tanquam speculativa cognitio, sed etiam tanquam practica et operativa ; ad usum autem sacramentorum hujus Legis, necessaria est fides explicita Trinitatis, quam oportet in Bap- tismo profiteri, et fides explicita Christi, Quem oportet in EucharistiS, recipere et Patri in sacrificium oflFerre ; ergo supposita institutione maxime conseutanea perfectioni hujus statfis, etiam tabs fides, et prajceptum ejus, merito dici potest esse de Jure Divino conuaturali gratia), ut existenti in tali statu, in quo gi'atia tam pcrfccto modo communicatur. " Atque hinc facile respondetur ad secundam partem, de prsecepto spei : fatemur enim, usum spei multo perfcctiorem postulari in lege Evangelii, qu^m antca ; tum quoad modum sperandi gloriam, tum quoad rnulta media supernaturalia. Nunc enim sperare tenemur remissionem peccatorum per Baptismum, et per Absolutionem sacerdotis ; et augmentum justitias per alia sacrarnenta : tum etiam quoad modum sperandi per Christum, et per speciales promissiones per Ipsum factas. Non est autem necesse, ut propter has et similes perfectiones data fuerint in hac lege specialia prceccpta positiva circa materiam spei, quia tota hajc perfcctio et obligatio ad illam ex naturd rei sequitur, supposita perfectione fdei circa CItristum, et redemptionem Ejus, et supposita tali sacramentorum institutione. Sicut etiam, supposita fide Incarnationis et institutione Eiicharistice ac fide ejus, nascitur in hdc Lege obligatio adorandi cidtu lairice Christum, tam in Se, quam in EitcharisiiA : et'nihilominus ilia obligatio non oritur ex Prcecepto Positivo Divino, sed ex Jure Divino naturali, et connaturali talibus mys- teriis : ita ergo de spe dicendum est." — Suarez De Lcgibus, lib. 10, c. 2, n. f), 7, 8, 9, 10. 168 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. tliat the fact is so, by the quotations which I hope to subjoin. It is most manifest then, from the principles of Section III., tliat this subtraction can never be in the way of dispensation. Gocl, having created free persons, cannot (as we have seen) even ' cle potentia absoluta' abstain from adding the sanction of His command, to the intrinsic o])h"gation of the Natural Rule. Much less tlierefore, can He remove this latter obligation itself; much less can He remove by His will that in- trinsic character of evil, which inhered in this or that act independently of His will altogether. But yet that in some sense God can subtract from this Natural Rule, is very certain. Scripture records, that He commanded Abraham to slay Isaac, and the Israelites to spoil the Egyptians. And even if Scripture w^ere silent, it does seem indeed a monstrous statement, that the Lord of life cannot impart a com- mission to take away life ; or that the Lord of the whole earth cannot transfer property from one man to another. Now this very statement of the difficulty, precisely implies the solution. Reason declares, that it is a sinful act to take away my fellow-man's life, without any necessity in the way of self-defence, and at the same time without express authority. True: but if God commissions me to take away life, I no longer do so without express authority; by the very fact of giving me that commission, He totally changes the case on which reason has to pronounce. In like man- ner, reason pronounces that it is sinful, under ordinary circumstances, to keep back a jewel from its rightful proprietor. But God is at last the Supreme Proprietor of all the universe ; and if He transfers the property in this jewel from my friend to myself, at once and ipso facto I become its rightful pro^^rietor. Under such circumstances as these then, there arises what theologians call a ' mutatio materise;' a change of that object-wa^^t^r, whereon a moral judg- ment has to be formed. By means of that 'mutatio god's powek of interference wttii natural rule. 169 materisD,' n certain external act, wliicli ivas intrinsecally wrong, ceases to be so and becomes lawful. Then the Command of G od supervening is a kind of positive Com- mand (see n. 25); and I owe to it obedience, on the same principle wliich obliges me to obey any other Positive Precept, imposed by my Holy Creator. In the above cases, the ' mutatio materia^' is wrought by God, not as Legislator, but as Supreme Proprietor and Lord of the Universe. It is often said bv theo- logians, that such ' nuitationes niaterias,' when they take place, are always wrought by Him in that capacity; that they are always wrought by Him as Supreme Lord, and never as Legislator. But with very great deference to their authority, I venture on this single particular to question their statements. In order the better to explain the kind of instance to which I allude, I will begin with an illustration of a purely human kind; a case, where there is no interference of God whatever. I am living at home, with my wife and family, quite free from any laborious occupation. Under these cir- cumstances, certain acts of kindness, towards those thus closely connected, are intrinsecally of actual obligation ; nay, in many easily supposable cases, are obligatory under mortal sin. But war breaks out and my country requires my services ; a command is issued by my sovereign, requiring me to join the army; and I obey that command. Here is a real ' mutatio materia.' Those services to my wife and children, which were before obligatory, cease altogether from being so ; my sovereign's just command has superseded them. Now if my temporal superior has thus the power to subtract duties from the Natural Rule, how far more must God possess that power ! A real command may reach me, not from my earthly sovereign but from God, requiring me to give such service as I am capable of giving, towards some holy enterprise in pro- gress. In such a case God works a real ' mutatio materiaB;' and in consequence of His command, certain duties, which were of intrinsic and independent obliga- tion, cease from being so. Yet surely He works this 170 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. ' mutatio materise,' not as Lord of the Universe, but as Legislator ; i. e. as being that Holy Creator, who lias a rightful authority to command. On this principle He might (as Suarez observes) forbid me, e.g. during some given period, from occupying any time in direct meditation on His attributes, or in special and explicit prayer. He might forbid this directly; or He might forbid it indirectly, by strictly commanding a different mode of employing each successive moment. You will object, that unless I devote time to special and explicit prayer, I have no moral power to avoid mortal sin. True, 'in praasenti providentia;' but of course it would be implied in God's giving sucli a command, that He would so far change His Providence, as that He would furnish me with amply sufficient grace, without my giving myself to such pious practices. 82. It is abundantly evident then, that through this ' mutatio materise ' God has full power to subtract, from the Natural Rule, /ar the greater number of its external precepts.* Such subtraction, I need not say, has been most rare and exceptional in the history of the world ; ])ut God has the full power to exercise this prerogative, as His Infinite Wisdom may dictate. One important remark however must here be made, in final explana- tion. It is impossible that we can have any knowledge of such Divine subtraction, except by means of direct Revelation ; whether mediate or inunediate. Wherever no such revelation reaches us, there is no ' mutatio materise;' in all such cases therefore — in all cases where we receive no direct revelation to the contrary — Reason itself (as we have already seen) declares, that God adds the sanction of His Command to the intrinsic ol)ligation of the Natural Rule. The assemblage of such Connnands may be called the 'mutable' part of the Natural Law. They belong to the Natural Law ; for they are Divine Precepts, com- manding that which, in itself and apart from such Com- mand, is of independent obligation. And they make * What is meant here by 'external' will be explained clearly in the following number. god's power of interference wittt natural rule. 171 up the mufnhle part of tliat Law ; because (as was sup- posed) they are those Precepts, which a(hnit of being subtracted by God from the Natural Law tlirough * mutatio materia,' as above expLiiued. Theologians here proceed to treat, on tliese prin- ciples, the various instances found in Scripture of God's subtraction from the Natural Law. The ajipropriate place however for this question, is our theological course; and as there is no reason of convenience (but rather the contrary) for anticipating its treatment, I postpone it for the present. Here I will only observe, that olDJections are brought from Scripture, by two most opposite parties, for two most opposite purposes. They are brought by certain Protestants, who reve- rence the authority of Scripture, for the purpose of proving that moralit}^ is not independent; and they are brought by certain infidels, who hold that morality is independent, for the purpose of disparaging the Bible. By the help of the principles which we have now con- sidered, we are able to meet both classes of opposition with the most perfect confidence and security. We are able at once to hold, in the fullest extent, that morality is independent; — and also to hold, in the fullest extent, the perfect consistency of this doctrine with the statements of Scripture. 83. But as there is a mutable part of the Natural Law, so also there is an ?7?nuutable: and we should fall into the most frightful misconceptions, if we did not carefully master this truth. AVe need not attempt (what perhaps is impossible) to make an exhaustive catalogue, of those Precepts which cannot be sub- tracted: the following will suffice. The first two par- ticulars in the enumeration, are of an importance which it is impossible to exaggerate. (1.) Virtuous ends of action must ever and in all cir- cumstances remain ichat they are. An external precept may be reversed ; but as regards the movement of our will, all that God can possibly call on us to do, is to act toAvards one virtuous end rather than towards another. Let us illustrate this, in the often-repeated instance of my friend's jewel. Put the ordinary case, that God 172 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. does not specially interfere ; I am under the obligation of restoring my friend his jewel, because of the vir- tuousness inherent in Justice. But now we will sup- pose that God does specially interfere, and commands me to retain it. What then results? Does He com- mand me to regard, as the motive of such retention, any supposed virtuousness inherent in iiyustice f A mon- strous supposition indeed ! It was my duty to restore it because of the virtuousness inherent in Justice; it is my duty to retain it, because of the virtuousness inherent in Obedience to my Holy Creator. It must ever then, and in all circumstances, remain true, that we are morally better, holier, more accept- able to God, in proportion as our will adheres, with greater firmness and efficacity, to those ends of action enumerated in the last Section. God is not free, by means of any possible interference, to touch or affect in any way this essential and necessary truth. Those virtuous ends, as we have seen, are such as the follow- ing : viz. Justice, Veracity, Benevolence, Love of God, Obedience to God, Reverence for God, Humility, For- o;ivino;ness, Puritv. God, in virtue of His Sanctitv, is under the glorious inability of proposing any ends of action at variance with these. (2.) 'Negative' precepts, which regard 'internal' acts, are absolutely immutable. Here there are two terms requiring explanation; 'negative' precepts and ' internal ' acts. ' Affirmative ' precepts command the performance of a duty ; ' negative ' precepts forbid the commission of a sin. Negative precepts therefore bind, as theo- logians say, ' semper et pro semper ; ' for at every moment we are forbidden to connnit any sin : but nothing like this is true in regard to ' affirmative ' pre- cepts. It is an affirmative precept, that we love God; i. e. that we elicit certain acts of love to Him : it is a negative precept that w^e pj'efer no creature to Him; still more that we do not hate Him. We are not always bound to be eliciting acts of love to Him ; but we are always bound, to al)stain from anything con- trary to that Love whicli is His due : from preferring. god's power of INTEKFEllENCE WITH NATUKAE KULE. 178 e. ^\ to Him any creature whatever. The ncGjative precept binds at every instant of our waking lives ; the affirmative precept binds only on certain fixed and definite occasions. Now it is very clear, how much more conceivable it is, that affirmative precepts be subtracted from the Natural Law than negative. God may command us not to meditate on His attributes for a certain given period ; ])ut He can/zo^ command us to hold those Attributes in contempt or hatred. He may command us to elicit no formal acts of love to our brethren ; but He cannot connnand us to elicit formal acts of hatred in their regard. We have shcAvn in n. 81, that the former class of commands are possible, at least ' de potentia absoluta;' that He can prohibit us from direct acts of love, to Himself or to our brethren. On the other hand it is evident, as soon as stated, that the latter class of commands are absolutely iwipossible; that under no possible circumstances can it be lawful to despise God or to hate our brethren. Next as to ' internal ' acts. In our theoloo:ical course we shall have to enter more at length on the force of this term : here it will suffice to say, that ' in- ternal ' acts are those consummated in the will itself; 'external' are free acts consummated externally to the will. That I restore my friend his jewel, this is an 'external' act; that I resolve on so doing, this is an ' internal.' Now it is quite plain, from what has been said, that as regards external acts, even negative precepts may be subtracted. It is a negative precept of the Natural Law, that I shall not retain a jewel, deposited with me by a friend, when that friend requires and seeks it for his own reasonable wants. And yet God has the full power of reversing this precept, by ' mutatio materia3.' It is a negative precept of the Natural Law, that we shall not treat our children harshly ; and yet God com- manded Abraham actually to slay his son. You will object perhaps, that if the external act may be reversed in character, so also may be the in- 174 rillLOSOPIlICAL INTRODUCTION. ternnl ; if iwy retaining the jewel, e.g. may become lawful, so also may my resolving to retain it. By con- sidering this objection, we shall throw considerable light on the statement above made. Put again the ordinary case, that God does not specially interfere : what is that internal act, concerning the jewel, which is strictly forbidden by the Natural Law? This: 'I resolve to ' retain unjustly the deposited jewel, because of the ' personal or other advantage which I shall derive from * its retention.' But this internal act can never be made lawful by any ' mutatio materise ' imaginable. When God commands me to retain the jewel, the internal act which he requires me to elicit is totally different; viz. this: 'I resolve to retain that jewel, ' which has noW become mine, because of the virtuous- ' ness inherent in Obedience to God's Command.' You see, the external act may be reversed in character by a Holy God; from unlawful it may become even obliga- tory : but no such reversal of character can possibly take place, in regard to that internal act, which is consummated in the will itself. (3.) The following statement is not to be found (so far as I know) explicitly made by theologians ; yet it is fully implied, in their whole doctrine concerning God's Providence. God cannot ' de potentia absoluta ' impose a Precept, which would place its recipients in circum- stances of moral inability to avoid mortal sin. What is precisely understood by moral inability, is to be ex- plained in our fourth Chapter ; but you have already, no doubt, a sufficient general knowledge of its meaning. And as an instance of what I intend by my statement, take the following. Suppose I had been familiar with deeds of cruelty; and suppose God commanded me to kill, with every circumstance of protracted torture, a man, who had inflicted on me some deadly injury. It is plain that, with no more than ordinary grace, I should, in fulfilling such a command, l)e morally unable to avoid mortal sin under the head of vindictiveness. Even then if on other grounds it were possible for God to give such a conmiand, lie would at least be necessitated by god's rOWEK OF INTEKFEKENCE WITH NATURAL RULE. 175 His Sanctity to give me most abundant help, that I might liave full power of avoiding mortal sin. (4.) Certain more enormous sins against the sixth commandment must ahvays remain such ; no ' mutatio materise ' can possibly affect their intrinsic pravity. (5.) It is agreed by all theologians without excep- tion, that a lie must ever remain intrinsecally evil, and that its prohibition can in no possible way be subtracted from the Natural Kule. As this statement is but very indirectly connected with our general subject, and as its elucidation would require considerable space, — let it suffice thus to enunciate this universally received piin- ciple. 84. The doctrines, expressed in this Section, follow most obviously from those of Section III. Having there- fore in Sect. IV. shewn at such great length the amount of theological authority for those earlier doctrines, it will not be necessary to give more than a sample^ in regard to this their further development. From Suarez however, I will take a chapter almost entire; because he not only states his own judgment, but gives also a very clear account of the other opinions, which have been maintained in the Church : — " Utrum Deus dispensare possit 7iV Lege Naturali etiam DE ABSOLUTA POTESTATE. " Ratio dubitandi est, quia omnis legislator potest in sua lege dispensare ; quod, in humano legislatore, tarn generaliter et sine exceptione verum Iiabet, ut etiani si absque causa dispensat, fac- tum teneat ; ergo multo magls in Deo : ergo cum Ipse sit Auctor Natiu'alis Legis, poterit in ea dispensare. Confirmatur, quia ita fecisse videtur, dispensando cum Abrahamo, in quinto prsecepto Decalogi, Genes. 22 ; et cum Osea in sexto, quando illi pra^cipit accipere ; mulierem fornicariam, Osece 2 ; et cum filiis Israel in septimo, quando ex Dei facultate spoliaverunt ^gyptios, Exod. 12. " Distinguimus tres ordines prgeceptorum naturalium. Quae- dam sunt universalissima principia, ut 'malum, faciendum non est,' et ' bonum est prosequendum : ' quadam vero sunt conchisiones immediate, et omnino intrinsece conjunctje dictis principiis ; ut prsecepta Decalogi : in tertio ordine sunt alia pra3cepta, qua? multo magis sunt remota a primis principiis, imo et ab ipsis Decalogi prajceptis ; de quibus postea exempla ponemus. De primis non 176 nilLOSOPHlCAL INTKODUCTION. est controversia inter auctores : nam certum est, in ea non cadere dispensationem, respectu hominis liber^ et moraliter operantis. Nam si Deus faciat tit liomo careat omni operatione mcrali, li])e- rura usum rationis et voluntatis impediendo, excusai-etur homo ab omni Lege Naturali, quia nee ben6, nee male moraliter operari ])osset: tamen ilia non esset dispensatio in Lege Naturae, sed esset impedire sidjjectum ne esset capax ohligatiojus illius ; sicut nunc infans non obligatur proprie Lege Naturali. At vero si homo relinquitur capax liberseoperationis, absolvi non potest ab omnibus illis principiis legis naturae : quia positd qudcumque dispensatione, necesse est ut ilia principia sint regula honeste operandi : vel enim dispensatio facit operationem vel carentiam ejus licitam, vel non facit : si non facit, nulla est dispensatio ; si vero facit, necesse est ut ratio judicet, hic et nunc operationem esse licitam : ergo dispensatio non potest cadere in illud principium, 'bonum est prose- quendum: ' quod amplius ex dicendis constabit. Controversia ergo est de aliis duobus ordinibus preeceptorum ; et pr?esertim tractatur a doctoribus de secundo : nam de tertio pauca dicunt, et ideo in fine breviter illam expediemus. " Est ergo prima sententia, generaliter affirmans posse Deum dispensare in omnibus Praeceptis Decalogi. Quae consequenter ait, non solum posse Deum dispensare, sed etiam abrogare totam illam Legem, auferendo omnino ejus obligationem, vel prohibitio- nem. Quo facto, inquit liaec opinio futura fuisse licita omnia, quae Lex Natura prohibet, quantumvis mala nunc esse videantur. Ex quo tandem concludit, non solum posse Deum hsec non pro- hibere, sed etiam pracipere ut flant : quia si mala non sunt sed licita, cur non poterit ilia prsecipere ? Hsec fuit sententia Ocham in 2, q, 19, ad. 3, dubium; quem sequitur Petrus de Aliaco in L, diet. 7, et Andr. de Castr. Novo in 1, d. 48, qusst. 1, Artie. 1, et inclinat Gerson. Alphabet. 61, lit. E. & F. Almain etiam 3, Moral, capit. 15, ut probabilem tractat banc opinionem : postea vero illam rejicit. Fundantur prsecipue, quia omnia, quae cadunt sub Legem Naturae, non sunt mala, nisi quia pi^oldbentur a Deo ; et Ipse libere ipsa prohibet, cum sit Supremus Dominus et Gubernator. Item quia oppositum non implicat contradictionem : ablata enim prohibitione, reliqua omnia facile consequuntur. " Ilaec vero sententia, tanquam falsa et absurda, a reliquis theologis rejicitur: et k priori improbanda est ex dictis supra cap. 6. ubi ostcndimus Legem Naturalem (licet, ut est proprie Lex Divina, Praecepta et Prohibitionem Dei includat, nihiiominus) sup- ponere in sua materia intrinsecam lionestatem vel malitiam, ab ed prorsus inseparabilem : et praeterea ibi ostendimus, supposit;i Divina Providentia, non posse Deum non prohibere mala ilia, qua? ratio natural is ostendit esse mala. Sed licet fino;amus, Prohibitio- nem additam per Voluntatem Dei ])0sse aulerri, nibilommus god's power of interference with natural rule. 177 prorsus repugnat, ad id, quod per se et intrinsece malum est, desinere esse malum; quia m natura non p>otest mutari : unde non potest talis actus liber^ fieri, quin malum sit et dissomim naturce rationali: ut ex Aristot. et aliis ibi ostendimus. Etvidetur per se notum : qui euim fieri potest, ut odium Dei, vel mendacium, libere facta, non sint prava? Fimdamentum ergh hiijus senten- tice, scilicet, quod omnis maliiia humajiorum actuum j^^foveniat ex Prohib'ttione extrinsecd, omninb falsum est. Ideoque ne in sequivoco laboremus, separanda est qusestio de ProMbitione ex- trinsecd Dei, an possit ab Ipso non fieri, vel respectu omnium, vel respectu alicujus. Nam de hac Probibitione esse potest res magis dubia, ut in dicto cap. 6. dixi; probabilius tamen esse osteiidi, esse a Divind Provident id inseparabilem : ilia vero qusestione omissa, hic absolute inquirimus, an fieri possit a Deo, ut actiones illte, qua? per legem Decalogi probibentur, malte non sint ullo modo ; ita ut nee per legem ostensivam naturalis 7Xitionis vetentur, ut malffi : et in lioc sensu dicimus, esse falsam sententiam Ochami et aliorum. " Unde a fortiori constat, multo majus absurdum esse dicere, posse Deum homini prsecipere, ut Ipsummet Deum odio habeat ; quod plane sequitur ex ilia sententia. Nam si potest ilium actum non prohibere, et ablata Probibitione non est mains; — ergo potest ilium prsecipere. Consequens autem esse absurdum patet; quia non potest Deus facere, ut Ipsemet sit odio dignus ; nam repugnat ejus Bonitati; neque etiam potest facere, ut sit rectum et ordi- natum, habere odio rem amove dignam. Item esset ibi qusedam contradictio : nam obedire Deo, est quidam virtualis amor Ejus, et obligatio ad obediendum prscsertim nascitur ex amore : ergo repugnat obligari ex Prcccepto ad Ipsummet Deum odio habendum. Idem argumentum fieri potest de mendacio : nam si Deus iliud posset prsecipere, etiam posset Ipse mendacium dicere ; quod erro- neum est : sic enim tota certitudo Jidei periret. Atque haBC etiam ratio probat de dispensatione: nam si potest Deus d"spensare in omnibus, ergo in mendacio ; non tantum officioso, sed etiam perni- cioso, et in quacumque materia : multo ergo magis poterit (ut ita dicam) Secum Ipse Dis})ensare, vel potiiis sine dispensatione men- tiri : quia respectu Ulius nulla est prohibitio, et alias dicitur actum secundhn se malum non esse. " Secunda sententia est Scoti in 3 distinction. 37 qugestion. unica, quem ibi sequitur Gabriel qua}stione prima articulo secundo, et refert etiam ibidem Almain. Distinguitque inter prjecepta primre et secundse tabulse. Primse tabulee dicuntur, tria Prse- cepta Decalogi, qu?e versantur circa Deum : de quibus sentit, duo prima, qufe negativa sunt, esse indispensabilia; tertium autem, quatenijs involvit circumstantinm Sabbati, et dispensabile et abrogabile fuisse (quod est manifestum apud omnes, quia quoad N 178 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. id non fuit Naturale, sed Positivum) quatenus ver5 absolute con- tlnet affirmativum prseceptum cultus divini, dubitat an dispensabile sit; et de tota hac parte hujus opinioiiis infra dicam. Prsecepta secundse tabulae, dicuntur reliqua septem ; et in universum omnia, quae circa proocimos vel creaturas versantur ; de quibus omnibus sentit Scotus dispensabilia esse " Tertia opinio est Durandi in 1 distinct. 47 qnsestione quarta, et Majoris in 2 dist. 37 qusest. 10, qui distinguunt inter praecepta negativa et cijffirmativa ; quamvis non omnino inter se conveniant. Nam Major dicit, negativa esse indispensabilia, excepto quinto prsecepto, ' Non occides.' Durand. vero eandem regulam constituens de exceptione, dixit, si verbum, ' Non occides^ generaliter sumatur pro quacumque hominis occisione, sic dispen- sabile esse: si vero sumatur pro occisione hominis, prout eam prohibet ratio naturalis, sic etiam illud indispensabile esse. Sed profecto distinctio non erat necessaria; quia priori modo occisio non cadit sub Prohibitione Legis Naturae, quia dicit quid com- mune, abstrahens ab occisione justa et injusta ; de qua constat, ut sic, non prohiberi Lege Naturae. Igitur, loquendo proprie de Quinto Praecepto, sine causa fit exceptio, ut patebit; et eodem modo possent isti auctores excipere Septimum Praeceptum, vel in illo dis- tinguere ; quia etiam acceptio rei alienae potest interdum juste fieri, " De affirmativis autem praeceptis. Major absolute dicit, omnia esse dispensabilia. Et probat primo, quia potest Deus non con- currere cum homine ad quemcumque actum praeceptum. Sed hoc impertinens est; quia hoc non est dispensare, sed tollere potestatem operandi. Quis enim dicat, unum hominem dispensare cum alio ne audiat missam, violenter ilium detinendo, aut ita graviter vulnerando ut illam audire non possit ? Probat deinde, quia pro quocumque tempore signato potest Deus praebere facul- tateni non exercendi actum praeceptum, vel etiam prcecipere facere aliud ; ergo hoc modo poterit pro toto tempore vitae dispensare. Sed neque hoc urget : si consideremus, prceceptum a^rmativum non ohligare pro semper; et stando in pura Lege Naturae, non habere aliud tempus pro quo determinate obliget, nisi illud, quod necessaria occasio vel opportunitas definierit. Unde, quamvis contingat totum vitce tempus transigi sine tali occasione vel oppor- tunitate, et ideo numquam, occurrere obligatioTiem Prcecepti, non propterek interveniat dispensatio ; nam hoc etiam naturaliter et sine miraculo contingere potest. Ratio ergo ilia ad summum probat, posse Deum facere, ut, in singulis temporibus, Praecepti necessitas non occurrat; vel quia urget aliud Prceceptum magis, vel quia rerum circumstantiae mutantur. Quod si Major velit, stantibus eisdem circumstantiis cum quibus obligat Naturale Prcecep- tum, posse Deum dare licentiam ne impleatur, — illud non probat, sed assumit tantiim. god's power of interference with natural rule. 179 " Durandus autem distinguit inter prceceptum prirnce ; et secimdce tabulce, et prius dicit esse indispensabile, posterius autem dispensari posse. Prubat hue ration^, quia omiiis materia, a qua potest auf'erri ratio debiti, dispeiisabilis est; ilia vero qua habet debitum insej)arabile, est indispensabilis : sed materia illorum prajceptoruin ita se liabet : ergo. Minorem probat hac analogic, : quia dependentia k Deo est inseparabilis ab homine ; dependentia vero unius hominis ab alio est separabilis a quocumque : sic ergo k cultu Dei est {ns.'>parabile debitum ; ab iionore autem parentum separari potest : unde non potest Deus facere quin illi credendum sit, et reverentia exhibenda : potest autem facere, lie parentes lionorentur. Sed quoad neutram partem videtur milii ratio efficax, nee distinctio constans. Primum probo, quia longc aliud est de dependentia a Deo in esse ; lisec enim essentialis est, quia sine ilia non potest homo subsistere: sine actione autem morali erga Deum potest existere ; imo et bene operari circa alia objecta. Item quamvis potuerit Deus facere, ut Petrus v. g. non habuerit esse a suis parentibus, tanien hoc non esset dispensare in Prsecepto de honorandis parentibus : supposito autem quod ab illis habuit esse, jam intervenit dependentia, a qua inseparabile est debitum honorandi parentes; sicut a dependentia k Deo inseparabile est debitum colendi Ipsum. Et hinc patet secunda pars ; nam si sit sermo de debito, seque inseparabile est sumptum cum proportione, seu supposita emanatione a tali causa : si vero sit sermo de actibus, quibus solvitur hoc debitum, — sicut potest Deus facere, ut homo sine peccato nunquam in tota vita exerceat actum honoris circa parentes, ita potest etiam facere, ut numquam exerceat actum cultus divini ; ergo vel neutra est dispensatio, vel in utroque Pra3cepto dispensari potest. " Est igitur quarta opinio, quae absolute et simpliciter docet, haec pracepta Decalogi esse indispensahilia etiam per potentiam Dei ahsolutam. Tenet D. Th. q. 100, Artie. 8, et ibi Cajetan. et alii; Sotus lib. 2, de just. q. 3, Articul. 8; Victor, relect. de homicid; Viguer. in Instit. Theolog. cap. 15, § 1, versu 7 ; Vin- cent, in Speculo Moral, lib. 1, par. 2, distinct. 6 ; Altisiodor. in Summa, lib. 3, tract. 7, cap. 1, qu. 5 ; Richard, in 3, distinct. 37, articul. 1, question. 5, et ibi Paludan. Bassolis, et alii ; Abulen. in 20 caput Exodi, q. 35, et Molin. torn. 6, tractat. 5, disputat, 57, num. 6. Fundamentum D. Thomas est, quia ea quaj con- tinent intrinsecam rationem justitise et debiti, indispensahilia sunt; sed hujusmodi sunt prseeepta Decalogi ; ergo. Major patet, quia implicat contradictionem, esse debitum et non esse debitum ; quod autem dispensatur, eo ipso fit indebitum ; si autem habet debitum inseparabile, necessario illud retinet ; ergo repugnat dis- pensare quod hujusmodi est. Et ideo ait Divus Thomas, nee Deum dispensare posse, quia non potest agere contra Suam Jus- 180 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. titiam; quod tameri ageret, si liceniiam daret f'aciendi id, quod per se et intrinsece injustum est. " Hanc vero rationem _ impugnant auctores aliaruni opi- nionum, quia vel petit principium, vel seque procedit in omni prsecepto et dispensatione ejus. Probatur, quia si sit sensus, stante et manente debito, non posse dispensatiouem habere locum, hoc in omni lege locum habet ; quia repugnat dispensare, ut manente debito legis liceat agere contra legem ; nam ratio dispen- sationis consistit in hoc, ut auferat dehitum legis, et ideo in illis terminis contradictio involvitur : vel est sensus, hoc debitum non posse auferri in prseceptis naturalibus ; et hoc probandum est ; ciim hoc ergo assumitur, priucipium petitur. " Respondetur, duplex esse debitum. Aliud procedens ab ipsa lege, tanquam effectus ejus; et de hoc procedit aperte objectio: tamen Divus Thomas in dicta ratione non loquitur de hoc debito. Aliud est debitum, proveniens ex intrinseca proportione inter objectum et actum comparatum ad rectam rationem, seu naturam rationalem ; et de hoc debito procedit ratio Div. Thomse. Nam (ut saspe dictum est) Lex Naturalis prohibet ea, quse secimdi^im se mala sunt, quatenus talia sunt; et ideo supponit in ipsis objectis seu actibus intrinsecum debitum, ut non amentur seu non fiant ; et e contrario prsecipit bona, quatenus intrinsecam connexionem et necessitatem habent cum natura rationali. Hoc autem debitum inseparabile est, non quia non sit dispensabile (sic enim peteretur principium), sed quia intrinsech supponitur in ipsis rebus, ante omnem legem extrinsecam ; et ideo, stantibus eisdem rebus auferri non potest, quia non pendet ex extrinseca voluntate, neque est res aliqua distincta, sed quasi modus omnino intrinsecus, seu quasi relatio, quae impediri non potest, posito fundamento et termino: et hanc rationem confirmant, quse circa alias opiniones dicta sunt, et quae in cap. 6, diximus. ''Hac igitur sententia, formaliter et proprih loqiiendo, vera est. Quia vero negare non possumus, Deum alirpiando eficei^e, ut actus illi materiales liceant, qui alias, non interveniente Deo Ipso et Ejus Potestate, licit^ fieri non possint, ideo (ut intelli- gatur quomodo hoc fiat, et cur ilia non sit, nee appelletur, dispensatio,) oportet distinguere in Deo varias rationes. Est enim Supremus Legislator; unde habet, ut possit nova et varia prse- cepta imponere: est etiam Supremus Domimis, quia potest dominia mutare vel concedere : est item Supremits Judex, Qui potest punire, vel unicuique reddere quod ei debetur. Dispensatio ergo propria pertinet ad Deum sub prima consideratione ; quia ejus- dem potestalis est, tollere et condere legem: itaque ut intelllgatur Deus dispensare, oportet \\i utendo sold ilia jurisdictione, et non adjungendo potestatem dominativam per quam res ipsas inmnitet, licere faciat, quod ante^ non licebat. Nam si per Dominitim Smim god's power of interference with natural rule. 181 mutet huinanum [officium?], hoc non erit dispensare, sed tollere materiam Legis ; ut ex superiorlbus constat. Quoties ergo Deus f'acit licituni actum, qui Jure Naturae viclebatur proliibitus, nun- quam id facit ut purus Legislator, sed utendo alia potestate : et ideo lion dispensat. " Hoc videre licet in exemplis positis. Quando enim Deus preecepit Abralia? interficere filiuni, id fecit tanquam Dominus vitse et mortis : si enim Deus Ipse per Seipsum voluisset inter- ficere Isaac, — non indiguisset dispensatione, sed ex Suo Dominio id facere posset; eodem ergo modo potuit uti Abrahamo ut in- strumento : et Quintum Prseceptum rion prohibet esse instrumentum Dei in occisione, si Ipse prseceperit. Idem sentit Divus Thomas de facto Osere in assumenda niuliere fornicaria; ut patet dicto art. 8, ad 4, et 2, 2, qujest. 154. Potest enim Deus transferre in virum dominium niulieris sine consensu ejus, et ita efficere vincu- lum inter illos, ratione cujus ilia copula jam fornicaria non sit. Sed licet hoc sit verum de potentia absolutii, locus Osese non cogit ad banc interpretationem : jussit enim Deus assumere earn, quae prills fornicaria fuerat, non soliim ad usum, sed etiam ad matrimo- niuni et in conjugem; ut Hieronym. Theodor. et alii interpretan- tur, et Irenffius lib. 4, contra Ilsereses, cap. 37, et August. 22, contra Faust, cap. 80 et 85, et lib. contra Secundinum Manich. cap. 21. Simili modo non dispensavit cum Hebraeis quando ^gyptiorum spolia illis concessit, sed vel tanquam Suprenms Dominus donavit, vel saltern tanquam Supremus Judex reddidit eis mercedem laborum suorum ; ut dicitur Sapient. 10. Ita ergo in similibus omnibus intelligendum est; neque potest aliter fieri, propter rationem adductam. Idemque applicari potest ad iwcecepta ajjirmativa ; in quibus est res facilis, quia non obligant pro semper, sed stante opportiinitate, quce circa tale objectum inducat necessitatem. Potest autem Deus aut objec- tum niutare, cedendo Juri Suo vel hominum jura immutando, aut etiam necessitatem potest auferre, addendo novas circum- stantias, quae illam impediant: et nihilominus Praeceptum in- tegrum manet, ut ex se semper ohliget pro dehitd opportunitate ; quod est signum, non fuisse factam dispensationem. " Unde colligit D. Thomas in dicta solut. ad 3, hunc mo- dura immutationis non solum Deo, sed etiam homini, interdum esse possibilem. In negativis quidem prasceptis, quando materia illorum cadit sub dominio humano, et per homines imnmtari potest, quomodo nos supra explicuimus legem prsescriptionis j in affirmativis autem, quando per homines possunt immutari circum-? stantise, quse inducebant necessitatem operandi, vei quandd p'ssmt homines graving prceceptum i>nponere : ut si rev pra'cipiat jilio non succurrere parenti extrenie indigenti, ut subveniat reiphblicce peri- clitanti. Deus autem ob Singularem Excellentiam potest, quand6 182 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. vult, uti absoluta Potestate et Dominio. Unde etiam intelligitur ratio, ob quam non in omnibus Prseceptis negativis potest talis mutatio fieri per homines ex parte materise, in quibus potest fieri h Deo ; ut v. g. in prrecepto non fornicandi : quia nimiri^im non habet homo illam potestatem in personam foeminse, quam habet Deus, ut possit alteri tradere in suam prout voluerit ; et ideo etiam potuerunt leges humanse per usucapionem mutare dominia rerum, non tameii ita potuerunt mutare dominia vixorum. Et ita, stante lege humana, potest desinere esse furtum quod antea fuisset; non tamen potest desinere esse adulterium, quod per se tale existit. " Praeterea ex his olnter intelligitur, quotiescumque ma- teria Prgecepti talis fuerit, ut honestas vel turpitudo ejus non pendeat ex Dominio Divino, tunc non solum indispensabile esse tale Prgeceptum, sed etiam ita immutabile, ut non possit ulld rations licitum fieri id quod prohibet ; solum enim m negativis Prce- ceptis hoc proprie invenitur. Hujusmodi est primum prgeceptum Decalogi, quatenus negativum est, et prohibet habere vel colere plures Deos : hoc enim nullo modo potest immutari; quia est contra rationem Ultimi Finis, et Excellentiam Dei, ac Unitatem Ejus, quam Ipse mutare non potest. Nee enim potest vel alium Deum constituere, vel aliquid facere quod sit aquali honore dignum ; mutatio ergo talis prsecepti seu materise ejus, non cadit sub Divinum Dominium. Idem est de Secundo Pi'gecepto Decalogi : tum quia involvit prohibitionem mendacii, quod nulla ratione honestari potest, si mendacium manet ; tum maxim^, quia prohibet facere Deum Auctorem mendacii, quod etiam includit irreveren- tiam Dei, adeo repugnantem Divinse Auctoritati, ut non possit in hoc cedere Juri Suo (ut sic dicam). Atque in hoc sensu verum est quod intendebat Scotus, hsec aliis esse immutabiliora. " De tertio autem, cum sit affirmativum, certum est posse a Deo fieri, ut ssepe non obliget, quando alias secundum com- munem cursura rerum obligaret. An vero possit homini licen- tiam dare, ut per totum vitse tempus, et, quod difiicilius est, per totam Beternitatem, nullum bonum motum circa Ipsum exerceat, neque cultum aliquem proximum et directum exhibeat, non im- merito dubitavit Scot. NonnuUi vero ex Thomistis censent hoc non posse fieri, nee per propriam dispensationem, neque etiam per mutationem materife. Si tamen considercmus absolutam ac nudam potentiam, non apparet in hoc implicatio contradictionis : quia inde non sequitur, non posse talera hominem bonos actus morales circa objecta creata exercere; quia eorum bonitas non pcndet ex pra^vio actu formali circa ultimum finem, et natura sua tendunt in Ipsum, et ita mediate et remote vel quasi materialiter, possunt dici continere cultum Dei. At vero considerando Di- vinam Potentiam, ut conjunctam Infinita; Sapientise et Bonitati Dei, atque adeo loquendo moraliter (ut sic dicam), credibilius god's power of interference with natural rule. 183 est, non posse Deum in hoc cedere Juri Suo; quia esset veluti pi^odigalitas qnsedam irrationabilis : maximc respectu creaturse ra- tionabiiis, et pro tota gcternitate. In aliis autem Prjcceptis non invenio hujusniodi immutabilitatem ex parte materise; solo ex- cepto mendacio, ut jam dixi, in quo fortasse est specialis ratio, vel quia etiam respectu ipsius Dei malum est, vel quia de se non limitatur ad materiam creatam, nee pendet ex dominio Dei in iliam vel in personam, sed in quacumque materia et de qua- cumque persona dici ])otest; vel denique quia ejus defbrmitas non pendet ex alio dominio, vel Divino Jure, sed statira oritur ex dissonantia verborum ad mentem. " Tandem ex dictis intelligitur, quo sensu dixerit Bernard, in lib. citato de precept, et dispensat. ca. 5, ea, quae pertinent ad Prsecepta secundie tabulae, mutari posse auctoritate Dei prsecipientis : loquitur enim non de Frceceptis ipsis formaliier siimptis, ut sic dicam, sed de actionihus circa (jiias ilia prcecepta versantur. De quibus ait, cum per se nunquam liceant, auctori- tate Dei prsecipientis posse licere. Quod verum est in sensu explicato : ilia tamen non est dispensatio in Prsecepto secundse tabulae, sed est mutatio mateticti ejus ; ut diximus. Tamen quia haec mutatio, quando fit ex peculiari Dominio et Potestate Dei, est (ut sic dicam) extra cursum naturae et praeter leges ordinariae Providentise, ideo interdum dispensatio appellatur; non quidem proprib Fracepti Naturalis (neque hoc dixit Bernard, si attente legatur) sed ordinarii cursus et legis Providentice, quae a divina voluntate pendet : et in eodem sensu videtur loquutus Bona- vent ; nam sententiam Bernardi imitatur. Dices: 'ergo nulla ' erit tunc differentia inter Praecepta primae et secundae tabulae, ' quain Bonavent, constituit, et favet Bernard, nam statim cap. 6, ' dicit, quaedam ita esse immutabilia, ut nee a Deo Ipso mutari * valeant.' Respondetur facile ex dictis, in hoc esse differentiam, quod Prfficepta primae tabulae talia sunt, ut non solum ipsa for- maliter dispensari non possint, verum etiam neque in actionibus quas prohibent possit talis mutatio fieri, ut liceant vel honestae sint ; ac subinde, ut neque etiam materialiter sumptae honestari possint Auctoritate Dei praecipientis. Odium enim Dei nullo modo potest honestari, nee adoratio idoli, nee cultus alterius dei praeter Deum Verum ; quia ab his actionibus secundiim se sumptis inseparabilis est deformitas, si libere fiant : quod non ita semper est in actionibus pertinentibus ad Praecepta secundae tabulae. Quod non universaliter, sed indefinite, accipiendum est : aliqua enim Praecepta secundae tabulae, possvmt esse immutabilia etiam hoc modo ; ut aperte f'atetur Bernard, dicto cap. 6, et in superioribus satis explicatum est.^'^ — Suaeez, De Legibus, lib. ii. cap. 15. Viva takes the same view of the case with Siiarez. 184 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. " Ex quibus deducitur, in quo sensu veruni sit axionia illud theologorum, Deum scilicet dispensare non posse in Jure Naturre; cum tamen et Abralia? dispensarit, ut vellet occidere filiuni innocenteui ; et Israelitis, ut ^oyptios spoliarent; et Osese, ut sumeret sibi uxorem fornicationum ; et Hebrseis, ut plures uxores ducerent ; necnon ut possent dare ex rationabili causa libellum repudii, et vinculum matrimonii dissolvere. Etenim ex D. Th. 1, 2, qusest. 100, art. 8, in liisce actionibus non dis- pensavit Deus suh Us circumstantiis, sub quibus sunt contra Jus NatarcB et ab intrinseco mala ; non enim dispensavit in furto, ut fieret invito Domino ; nee in homicidio, ut fieret invito Domino vitce, qui est Deus; nee in fornicatione, ut fieret per accessum ad non suam ; sed dispensavit, tollendo ab Us circumstantiam illam, per quain essent intrinsec^ et essentialiter malse ; et hoc pacto dispensavit etiam in polj^gamia et dissolubilitate matrimonii. Non potest tamen hoc pacto dispensare in iis, quae sunt contra Jus Naturee primo modo ; puta in odio Dei, in mendacio, in mollitie, in peccato contra naturam, &c., quia hsec sunt intrinsece mala, et essentialiter exigunt prohiberi simpliciter ; eo quod in qudcumque circumstantid sint contra Jus Naturae, et illicita." — De Matnmonio, qusest. 3, art. 3, n. 6. And Billuart : — *' Potest tamen Lex Naturalis mutari improprie, quatenus ejus materia sic potest mutan, quod desinat esse materia et objectum Legis : v.g. quamvis Lex dicat depositum esse reddendum, si tamen petatur in perniciem patriae, redditio depositi desinit esse materia et objectum Legis; quia Lex intelligitur de deposito reddendo circum- specte et prudenter. Et de ista mutatione legis impropria loquiter S. Th. dum hlc dicit Legem Naturalem, quantum ad secunda Praecepta, posse mutari propter aliquas causas impedientes eorum observantiam. Similiter, dum a. 4, prsecedenti dicit Legem Natu- ralem, quantiim ad principia propria quae sunt quasi conclusiones communium, non esse unam apud omnes secundum rectitudinem, — S. Doctorem intelligere de mutatione Legis Naturalis ex parte materia;, patet ex lectione utriusque articuli, et ab exemplo quod j>rofert de lege depositi reddendi, quod, si repetatur irrationabiliter, desinit esse materia legis. " Ad cujus et sequentium elucidationem observandum est, esse quasdam leges naturales, quae exprimuntur terminis tam restrictis, ut a re per eos significata impossibile sit abesse turpitudinem vel honestatem ; ut ista : ' Non mentieris.'' Sunt autem aliae, quae ter- minis latioribus exprimuntur, ita ut, quamvis rem per eos sig- nificatam ])lerumque comitetur turpitudo vel honestas, potest tamen ab ilia abesse; ut in his: 'Depositum reddes,^ 'Non Decides.' Ratio enim, seu Lex Naturalis, nihil aliud dictat, dictavit god's power of interference with natural rule. 185 unquam, aut dictare potuit, quam quod * depositum reddes' pru- denter sen rationabiliter repetenti ; et'non occides' privatd auc- toritate seu indebite ; et id facile apprehendit quisquis prudens et intelligens : ex quo iuferes, non in onuiibusPraeceptis Legis Naturae posse fieri niutationem ex parte materia?. " Est itaque tantum qujestio de mutatione Legis Naturalis per dispensationem ; an scilicet aliqua potestas, huraana vel saltern Divina, possit in ea dispensare ? " Dispensatio, sicut dixi de mutatione, est duplex ; proprie et improprie dicta. Dispensatio proprie dicta, est relaxatio legis seu ejus obligationis, in aliquo particulari, facta ab habente potestatem, manente materia legis sic immutata, ut ejus obligatio remaneret si non accideret auctoritas dispensantis. Unde, quamvis dispensatio supponat aliquam legis interpretationem, ab ea tamen differt, quod ad interpretationem non requiratur auctoritas, sed sufficit prudentia et scientia. " Dispensatio, improprie dicta, est quando legislator vel alter sic mutat materiam legis, ut desinat comprehendi sub lege. " Hinc dispensatio pi'opria spectat legislatorem seu superiorem ; dispensatio autem impropria spectat dominum materice, sive sit legislator et superior, sive non. Sic Deus, concedendo spolia jEgyptiorum Israelitis, egit ut Dominus, non ut Legislator. Sic privatus, qui remittit mihi debitum centum florenorum, agit ut dominus istius debiti, non ut superior. E contra, si Deus aut papa eximeret aliquem a lege jejunii vel sanctificationis Sabbati, ageret ut Superior et Legislator. Et inde sequitur aliud discrimen : quod dispensatio propria directe cadat supra legem; impropria autem directe cadat supra materiam seu debitum : ita ut qui dis- pensatur proprie, v.g. in jejunio, non teneatur amplius lege jejunandi sicut tenentur alii : (jui vero dispensatur improprie, v.g. in redditione debiti quod remittitur, vel in ablatione alieni quod ipsi conceditur a domino, semper tenetur, sicut omnes alii, lege naturali non furandi, aut solvendi debita. Quod si hie et nunc licite aut alienum auferat, aut debitum non solvat, non est quia eximitur ab istis legibus, sed quia non remanet vel alienum, vel debitum, nee consequenter legis matetia. Hjec, si bene perpenr dantur, tollunt sequivocationes, quibus multi decipiuntur in hac materia. " Circa propositam itaque qusestionem, Okam, Gerson, Petrus de Alliaco et pauci quidam antiqui opinati sunt, Deum posse absolute dispensare in omnibus prjeceptis Legis Naturae; imo totam illam legem abrogare; ita ut etiam odium Dei non esset peccatum. Sed hpec opinio merito rejicitur ab aliis theologis et nunc inoievit, " Scotistse, cum suo duce, tenent Deum posse dispensare in Prseceptis secundse tabulae tantum ; excepto Praecepto de mendacio. " Communior aliorum theologorum sententia est, neqiie Deum 186 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. posse propria dispensare in ullo Prcecepto Legis Naturce, sed tantum improprie : cum quibus "Dico, Neque Deus ipse absolute potest dispensare proprie in Lege Naturalijbene tamen improprie." {De Legibus, diss. 2. art. 4.) Without further extending our quotations, the fol- lowing passage from St. Bernard, to which Suarez refers in his above-quoted chapter, deserves our careful attention. St. Bernard indeed appears to be one of those, who hold that there can be dispensation, pro- perly so called, in regard to some external precepts of the Natural Law. Suarez, it is true, in the last number of the above chapter, denies that this is his real meaning; and at all events, if it be, so far of course I am unable to follow the Saint's authority. But what appears particularly deserving of notice, is his most clear and emphatic statement, as to the abso- lutely immutable character of iniuard morality; of that type of virtue, which the Christian religion has publicly exhibited to the world : " Necessarium ... in tria hsec subdividatur, stabile, invlo- labile, incommutabile. Et quidem stabile dixerim, quod ita est necessarium, ut non cuilibet hominum illud mutare fas sit, nisi solis dispensatoribus mysteriorum Dei, id est Prsepositis : ut, verbi gratia, regulse Sanctorum Basilii, Augustini, Benedicti, necnon et authentici Canones, et si qufe sunt alia ecclesiastica instituta dignse auctoritatis Necessarium deinde, quod inviolabi e nominavi, illud intelligo, quod non ab homine traditum, sed di- vinitiis promulgatum, nisi a Deo qui tradidit mutari omnino non patitur : ut, exempli causa, Non occides, Non moechaberis, Non furtum facies, et reliqua illius tabula? legisscita; qua etsi nuUam prorsus humanam dispensationem admittunt, nee cuiquam homi- num ex his aliquid aliquo modo solvere aut licuit aut licebit, — Dominus tamen horum quod voluit, quando voluit, solvit; sive cum ab Hebrseis ^gyptios spoliari, sive quando Prophetam cum muliere fbrnicaria misceri prsecepit. Quorum utiqiie alterum quid nisi grave furti facinus, alterum quid nisi flagitii turpitude repu- taretur, si non excusasset utrumque factum Auctoritas Imperantis ? Sane ubi simile aliquid aliquando a Sanctis hominibus fuisse legi- tur usurpatum, Scriptura non indicante quod Deus ita prseceperit, — aut eos peccasse f'atendum est, sicut homines ; aut certe, sicut prophetas, familiare Dei Consilium accepisse. Unde et unum exemplum pono quod occurrit de Samsone, qui seipsum una cum hostibus opprimens interfecit. Quod utique factum si def'enditur god's poaver of intekference with natural rule. 187 non fuisse pcccatum, privatum liabulsse consilium indubitanter credendus est, etsi de Scriptura hoc non liabemus. " Jam \ero necessarium incommntabile quid accipi velim ? Equidem nil congruentius, quam quod. Divina. ita constat et cetermd ratione firmatum, vit nulla ex causa possit, vel ab ipso Deo, aliqua- tenus inimutari. Sub hoc genere est omnis ilia sermonis Dominici in monte habiti spintualis traditio ; et quicquid de dilectione, humili- tate, mansuetudine, cceterisque virtutibus, tarn in Novo quam iri Veteri Testamento spiritualiter observandum contvaditur. Hsec quippe talia sunt, quae nee liceat nee expedlat alic^uando non haberi. E6 siquidem immobiliter, quo et naturaliter bona, numquam nisi inno- center, numquam nisi salubriter, aut imperantur aut observantur. Omni tempore, omni personce, mortem contempta, custodita salu- tem, ope7'antu7\ Primam ergo necessitatem sua cuique f'acit in promittendo voluntas, sccundam prsecipientis Auctoritas, tertiam pracepti dignitas. " Differunt autem, ut jam dictum est, quibusdam a se invicem gradibus tres ista? necessitates, nee una omnes sequitur immutabili- tatis firmitas. Nam ex prima quidem quod efficitur, etsi non penitus immutabile, tamen vix mutabile esse constat: dum solis illud liceat mutare prelatis ; et hoc nonnisi fideli et provida dis- pensatione. Quod vero fit ex sequenti, quse et major ista, est pene jam incommntabile ; soli quippe Deo esse mutabile superius demonstratum est. Porro quod de novissima fit, tamquam omnium maxima, omnino incommntabile est, utpote quod ne Ipsi quidem Deo mutare liberum est. Quod igitur nulli hominum fas est, nisi . solis mutare prselatis, dici vix mutabile congru^ potest ; quod soli constat licere Deo, dicatur pene immutabile; quod ne Ipsi quidem, penitus immutabile nominetur.^^ — S. Bernaedi, De Prce- cept. et Dispensati, pp. 425, 426. 85. In the present Section we have spoken, almost exclnsively, on that part of the ' Natural Kule,' which is precisely co-extensive with the Natural Law; that part, viz. which is concerned with the independent sinfahiess of acts or their independent obligatiofi. But we have used this phrase ' Natural Rule' in a wider sense (see n. 52, p. 117); we have used it to express, not merely the fjict that such or such acts are independently evil, but that, among those which are not independently evil, this is independently better than thaf, or less good than the other. Our theory therefore will not be complete, unless we include in it this part also of the Natural Rule. The principles, however, which are here applic- 188 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. able, are most obvious and most simple. How far, and in what way, they may ever be reduced to practice^ it is not here our business to consider. (1.) Suppose A and B are two acts, incompatible with each other, between which I can now choose. Neither of them is independently evil ; but subjectively speaking (see n. 57, pp. 124, 5) A is independently better than B. Under all ordinary circumstances, I shall act more virtuously, I shall more please my All-holy Creator, by eliciting A than B. But suppose God to command B : then not only would A cease to be in- trinsecally better, it would be intrinsecally evil, as being- incompatible with act B, which has become of actual obligation. This change of moral relation between these two acts, comes of course from ' mutatio materia? ;' the fact of God giving a Command, changes entirely the cir- cumstances of that question which reason has to decide. (2.) Suppose God, without giving a Command, inti- mated to me His Preference ' hie et nunc' for act B : act A would not in this case be an actual sin ; but act B would be, to an indefinite extent, intrinsecally better. The 'mutatio materias' would effect a total change of relation, between the intrinsic character of these acts. 86. I have said that under such circumstances B is intrinsecally better. In like manner, if God commanded me to retain the deposited jewel, or to keep the Jewish Sabbath, obedience to such command would be of ' in- trinsic' obligation. This word ' intrinsic' may appear to you superficially as somewhat perplexing, when so used ; as tending to overthrow that very distinction which it has been my purpose to advocate, between the Natural and the Divine Positive Law. It will conduce then to clearness, if I explicitly answer any such objection. A Precept belongs to the Natural Law, when the thing commanded is of independent obligation ; or (in other words) of intrinsic obligation, apart from God's Command : but the Precept belongs to the Positive Law, when the thing's intrinsic obligation arises entirely //•o??^ God's Command. god's power of interference with natural rule. 189 In other words, tlie Precepts of the Natural Law do but add a fresh obligation, to one which exists apart from any such Precept; but the Precepts of the Divine Positive Law oblige to some act or acts, which, without those Precepts, would not be obligatory at all. In other words again, God is necessitated by Ilis Sanctity to impose those Precepts which belong to the Natural J^aw ; but those which belong to the Positive Law, flow wholly from His free choice. I have reserved the phrase ' independent obligation,' to express exclusively an obligation which exists ' in- dependently' of God's Will. But it is important (I think) from time to time to use the word ' intrinsic/ as applying to either case of obligation ; and this, for the purpose of keeping vividly in our minds the great truth, that God acts, as ]\Ioral Governor, in a way removed to the greatest possible extent from reckless- ness or caprice. He does not, and cannot consistently with His Sanctity, praise or censure, reward or punish, anything except what is intrinsecaUi) good or evil respectively. His gratuitous gifts He, of course, im- parts far more largely to this man than to that, on grounds often wholly irrespective of moral desert. But He cannot praise or reward^ except that which is intrinsecally good ; He cannot blame or punish, except that which is intrijisecally evil. Suppose e. g. He commands all men (as He does) to submit themselves to the Catholic Church. If I have no means of knowing that Command, it is inconsistent with the fundamental notion of Sanctity, that He should punish me for disobeying it. If I have the means of knowing and wilfully omit to use them. He punishes me for the 'intrinsic' sinfulness of such omission. If I know the Command and refuse to comply, He punishes me for the * intrinsic' sinfulness of such disobedience. And so, as to relative degrees of virtuousness ; I cannot render my conduct 7nore acceptable to Him, except by doing that which is intrinsecally better. A truth this, which is of course perfectly consistent with that other stated in the last nvunber ; viz. that in 190 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. various cases my knowledge of His preference renders an act intrinsecally better^ wliicli would otherwise be less good. This arises (as we have seen) simply from ' mutatio materiae : ' it arises from the fact, that such expression of His Preference changes the circumstances of the case ; in other words, changes the matter, on which reason has to pronounce. 87. I will beg you now to study the Appendix to this Chapter ; which, for mere reasons of physical con- venience, is printed at the end of the book instead of here. You will find that the various propositions, dis- cussed in the three last Sections, and also those con- tained in the Appendix to which I have referred, throw great additional light on the principles and arguments contained in Sections II. and III. I will beg you there- fore, after having read the Appendix, once more to study those two Sections, from your new standing ground; for you will thus obtain a far more complete and syste- matic grasp of those truths, which it has been my object in this Chapter to set before you. The importance of the truths in question is ex- tremely great. The one main category, under which we regard men's acts in Theology, is as being right or wrong ; more or less right ; more or less wrong. Nor is it a small part of Theology, but more extensive than all the rest put together, wdiich at every turn refers, both to human acts and to these their intrinsic qualities. Unless therefore you have most carefully studied the subject, you will fall for certain into one of the very worst intellectual habits, which can possibly come upon a philosophical or theological student ; the habit of unconsciously using words, without precise correspond- ing ideas. The principles which have here been established, will receive, as we proceed in our Tlieology, a con- stantly increasing develo})ment ; and in this develop- ment we shall be very greatly assisted, by the Church's definitions, and by the laljours of her greatest theolo- gians. But I think (with the exception of one or two other trutlis which are to be comprised in our third god's power of interference with natural rule. 191 Chapter) all has here been stated, which is requisite as a philosophical basis, whereou that subsequent struc- ture may be reared. I will ouly remark in conclusion, that the matters handled in theolos-ical works under the head ' de principiis moralitatis,' are altogether different from those which we have been considering. This incon- venience however has not deterred me from using a title, which seemed more appropriate than any other I could think of, for expressing the contents of this Chapter. 192 CHAPTER 11. ON ETHICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 88. Hitherto we have been regarding, under various aspects, those Precepts and Counsels, which God, as being All-holy, could not but propose to mankind. He is perfectly free, as we have so often remarked, not to create men; He is not free, having created them, to place before them Precepts or Counsels essentially different from these. We now turn our attention to His constitution of our own nature ; we proceed to enquire, under what circumstances of advantage or disadvantage He has placed us men, by giving us that nature, towards the fuljilment of those Precepts and Counsels. The present Chapter then, however closely connected it may be in one sense with the former, yet belongs to a different part of Philosophy altogether. The former Chapter treated of necessary truth, this is to treat of contingent ; the former was wholly meta- physical, this is to be wholl}'' psychological. Let me explain my meaning in this statement, a little more at length. Those tiiiths, which were the object of our con- sideration in the previous Chapter, are truths of such a character, that it is intrinsecally impossible they should be other than they are : but those which are now to occupy us, are sinijily due to God's free ap- pointment. There are various sciences, as you very well know, occupied with such truths ; Astronomy, Chemistry, Botany, and the like. Just tlien as Botany contemplates the various properties which God has given to flowers, so Psychology contemplates tlie vari- ON ETHICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 193 ous properties which He has given to tlie human soul. In our former Chapter, we were not concerned at all with the phenomena of our soul, except so far as those phenomena enabled us to apprehend various truths wholly external to the soul ; but here the phenomena of our soul are our direct object of enquiry. In every branch of human study, I need not say, our soul is the coniemplafbiu; subject ; but in Psychology, alone of all sciences whether necessary or contingent, it is also the contemjilated object. I make no profession however of carrying you through all Psychology. A very large proportion of mental phenomena, have no direct bearing on man's moral or spiritual action at all ; and with these we do not here concern ourselves. What are the laws which regulate memory — or what is the true account of the sublime and beautifvil — or what are the phenomena of the poetical temperament — these, and a thousand other psychological questions, may be of great moment to the philosopher as such ; but they do not subserve the purposes of Theology. I call our present study then 'Ethical Psychology;' and include under it those facts of human nature, which are directly concerned with ethical truths. What means are i>;iven to each of us by nature, for knowing right and wrong? — what are the various impulses which lead in one direction and the other? — is it possible to do evil for the sake of evil, 'male agere propter malitiam?' — are we so constituted that on the whole virtue and happiness coincide? — which is the stronger motive, and in what cases, desire of happiness or desire of virtue? — these, and many other enquiries of a similar kind, fall under our treatment. We may call it in one word the map of our moral nature. A historian, before he begins his narrative, prefixes an account of the country to which it refers. Here is a chain of mountains — there a rapidly-flowing river — here the soil has one important peculiarity, there another. And in like manner, before considering in order those various wonders of which man's moral nature is the theatre, — it is very con- o 194 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. ducive to clearness, that we first investigate the con- formation of that nature itself^ as it came from its Creator's hands. Such then is the character, such the limitation, of that portion of science which we here undertake. We must begin our treatment of it however, by stating various facts, which underlie the whole science of Psychology in its fullest extent. 195 Section I. On the Three-fold Classification of Mental Phenomena. 89. I assume, from the ordinary philosopliical books, a truth which is, I beheve, pretty generally recognized. The soul is a perfectly simple substance. When this is said, it is very far from being meant (of course) that the soul is simple, as God is Simple. He is intrinsecally incapable of change; existing 'extra tempus ;' "the Same yesterday, to-day, and for ever:" while the soul on the other hand, I need not say, is at every moment undergoing great changes or modifications. If I may use the expression then, I do not mean that the soul is 'extensively' simple, but that it is 'intensively' so; that it is incapable, from its nature, of any physical division. We may imagine a table or a chair, divided into its various constituent parts; we could imagine this, even though we were wholly unable to effect that division. But if we could see the soul, we should see that such division is wholly w?zim agin able, because there are no constituent parts into which it could be divided.* 90. It is also, I believe, universally recognized, that we have, and can have, no direct knowledge whatever of that substance which we call the soul. We know, and can know, no more of it, than those various successive modifications of which we are conscious. Here how- * For a recital of authorities on this doctrine of the soul's simplicity, see Sir W. Hamilton's " Lectures on Metaphysics and Logic," vol. ii. pp. 5-9. Among theologians, he considers that St. Augustine, Scotus, and also the Nominalists held this view ; while St. Thomas and his followers denied it. I may add that Suarez considers it far the more probable opinion, that there is no real distinction, between the soul on the one hand and the intellect or will on the other ; and I think the later scholastics take the same opinion for granted. T imagine no one in the present day doubts it. 19G PIIILOSOrHTCAL INTRODUCTION. ever, lest this word 'conscious' be unduly contracted in its sense, I will anticipate one remark, wliicli we shall have to make ao;ain and as-ain hereafter. Amono; the various mental phenomena whereof we are conscious, it is l)ut a very small part on whicli we ordinarily reflect. Hence it follows, that by carefully examining what passes in our mind, we are able to discover a very far greater number of phenomena than we had at all suspected. My grounds for making this statement, will come before us as we proceed ; but I make it here, lest the word ' conscious ' should be misunderstood, and limited to a sense far narrower than that whicli I intend. 91. Now these various mental phenomena or modi- fications of the soul, fall most obviously and irresistibly vinder three classes; intellectual acts, which I will call cognitions ; volitions ; emotions. I say they fall into these three classes, obviously and irresistibly. Any emotion^ e. g. most strikingly resembles any other emo- tion, in the various laws to which it is subject; and no less strikingly differs in this respect from every cog7iitio7i or volition. Any volition again most strikingly resembles any other volition in the various laws to whicli it is subject; and no less strikingly f/i^er^ in this respect from every cognition and emotion. Cog- nitions are bound together precisely in the same way ; by mutual agreement with each other, and by distinction from all other phenomena. It is of the very greatest importance, that this fundamental classification should be constantly kept before us in our psychological enquiries; and it will be a very great advantage therefore, if our very mode of speech constantly reminds us of its existence. This service science has performed, by adopting the terms ' intellect,' ' will,' ' sensitive appetite.' All volitions are spoken of, as proceeding from the will ; all cognitions, as elicited by the intellect; all emotions, as experienced by the sensitive appetite. We must not of course suppose for an instant, that there is any such thing as intellect, will, or sensitive appetite; that the soul, e. g. is compounded of those three elements, as a chair is compounded of legs, seat, and back. They are but THKEE-FOLl) CLASSIFICATION OF MENTAL PHENOMENA. 197 abstractions^ used by science for the purpose of keeping constantly before our minds the great fact I have just explained — the threefold classification of mental phe- nomena. 92. Let us consider in order these various classes of phenomena. And first for emotions. By emotions, as you well know, are signified all those modifications of the soul, w^herein it experiences pleasure or pain of whatever character. All emotions therefore are either (1) pleasurable, or (2) painful, or (3) uniting both in various degrees. It is implied in our definition, that we include under the general term ' emo- tions,' what are commonly called ' bodily appetites.' And very conveniently ; for it will be seen, as we proceed, that these are governed, in all essential respects, by the same laws which regulate mental emotions. It follows also, from what has been said, that all emotions are concerned necessarily with some object; the possession or thought of which causes pleasure or pain as the case may be. They move moreover towards such pleasurable object, or from such painful object, in this or that various manner. He who should enumerate every object, the possession or thought of which causes pleasure or pain; — and who should enumerate also our various feelings in regard to any such given object; — would tell us all that it is possible to know of the sensitive appetite. 93. I will use the word ' propeusion' to express our susceptibility of pleasure or pain from the thought or possession of this or that object. Thus my love of men's esteem, — or in other words my susceptibility of pleasure from a belief that men esteem me, — is a ' propeusion.' Again my love of food, — or in other words, my suscepti- bility of pleasure from the reception of food when I am hungry, — is a 'propeusion.' Once more; my hatred of bodily lesion, — in other words my susceptibility of pain from my flesh being in any way lacerated, — this is a * propeusion.' And our various propensions are gratified^ so far as we possess in some sense the various objects wdiich give pleasure, or are free from those which give pain. Now the very wording of the last paragraph, will 198 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. suggest a somewhat important classification of the propensions. Many of these, derive all the gratification of which they are capable, from the mere belief that their object exists. Take, as an instance of this, the propension which we call love of approbation. If I firmly believe that my fellow-creatures regard me with feelings of admiration, my propension enjoys its full satisfaction ; the actual fact that they do so, literally adds nothing to that satisfaction. My enjo^^ment, I say, would be no whit the less, even though they held me in execration, so long as I confidently and un- doubtingly believe the opposite. In like manner, the pleasure derived by a vindictive man from his enemy's misery, requires for its full existence nothing more than a confident belief that such misery exists : the sight of it only increases the pleasure, as making the belief itself more vivid. And there are very many other cases of a similar kind. But this is far from being true of all the propensions. I believe, e. g. that this is tender and nutritious food, having never tasted any better ; but who will say that my appetite is as satisfac- torily appeased by eating such food, as it would be if its quality were really what I think it? Still more, who will say that my appetite is satisfied, by a mere belief that the food is before me ? Plainly a far closer contact with the object is here necessary, than is implied in the mere belief of its existence. Who can hold a fire in his hand, By tJdnking of tlie frosty Caucasus ? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, By bare imagination of the feast ? This distinction is of sufficient importance, to require a distinct name for the two classes. Some of our pro- pensions, we have seen, possess their object, by the mere fact of our belief t\mt it exists; but others require a far closer contact. For want of a better name, let us call the latter 'physical propensions' and the former 'non- physical.' St. Thomas, in one part of his " Summa," seems to imply, that the physical propensions are precisely THREE-FOLD CLASSIFICATION OF MENTAL PHENOMENA. 199 identical with tlie bodily appetites; at least in that more extended sense of the word, which would include, e. g. love of music in that category.* I am not meaning to imply that there are many exceptions to this state- ment ; but a very little thought will shew that there are some. Let us take what with some minds is among the strongest propensions they have, — love of adequate intellectual scope : to some minds, I say, the absence of such scope is among the keenest of miseries ; the yoke of a false and narrow philosophy is a worse than P^gypt- ian slavery. Now we may ask, are these men exempted from such suffering, simply hy believing that their present philosophy is true and sufficient? Or rather is not the very opposite the fact? Never are they so miserable, as when (through misplaced reverence for authority) they undoubtiugiy believe in this false system ; and their daring to doubt it is their first step, towards emancipa- tion from this misery of intellectual bondage. Nothing then can be more certain, than that this propension is ' physical ; ' yet who can say that it is a bodily appetite^ even in the most extended possible sense of that term? Which of our propensions are physical, and which non -physical, is a question to be treated in a later Section, when we enter on a systematic consideration of our various propensions. This systematic con- sideration will lead, I think, to conclusions of much interest and importance ; but before beginning it, it will be better to treat one or two preliminary subjects, which may be far more briefly despatched. * ' Respondeo dicendum, qii6d, sicut dictum est (a prec.) pcccata reci- piunt speciem ab objectis. Omne autem peccatum consistit in appetitu alicujus commutabilis boni, quod inordinate appetitur ; et per consequens, in CO jam habito inordinate aliquis delectatur. Ut autem ex superioribus patet (qu. 31, art. 3.) duplex est delectatio. Una quidem animalis, quae consummatur in sold apprehensione alicujus rei ad votum habitae ; et haec etiara potest dici delectatio spiritualis : sicut ciini aliquis ddcdatw inlaude humand, vel in aliquo hujusmodi. Alia vcro delectatio est corporalis, sive naturalis, quse in i^jso tactic corjwrali perficitur ; qu£e potest etiam dici delectatio carnalis.' — 1, 2 qu. 72, art. 2. 0. 200 Section II. On the Passions. 94. I observed just now, that lie who should enunciate every object which causes pleasure or pain ; — and should enumerate also our various feelings in regard to any such given object; — would tell us all that can be known of the sensitive appetite. Now to enumerate every object which causes pleasure or pain, is to enumerate our various ' propensions ' (n. 93). To enumerate our various feelings in regard to any such given object, is to enumerate our various ' passions.' This latter is a far easier task than the former, and we at once proceed with it. I say then, firstly, by way of definition, that what- ever pleasurable or painful object be in question, — the passions are the various modes, in which my emotions tend to that pleasure^ or recede from that jjain. We must be on our guard here, against associations arising from the ordinary use of the term. In common par- lance, the word ' passion ' implies something violent and extreme : but in theoloo;ical lano;ua2;e the faintest emo- tion is a ' passion;' it is one or other passion, directed to one or other pleasurable object, or from one or other painful object.* * The following passages from St. Thomas will, I think, sufficiently shew, that he intends to include, under the name of passion, every kind of emotion. ' Motus appetites sensitivi proprie passio nominatur ; sicut supra dictum ' est.'— 1, 2,qua3st. 22, art. 3. ' AfFectio autem qucecitmque, ex apprchensione scnsitiva procedens, est 'motus appetites sensitivi.' — Quocst. 31, art. 1. Again — ' .Stoici, sicut ponebant omneni pas.sionem anima? esse malam, * ita ponebant consequenter omnem passionem animse diminuere acte Amiss. Grat. lib. i. cap. 9. n. 12. RELATION BETWEEN WILL AND SENSITIVE APPETITE. 225 sensitive appetite ' politically.' Let us draw out the meaning of this statement. First then, in regard to every other part of our soul and body, the will governs, either despotically or not at all. If 1 say 'hand, move up;' ' finger, move down;' 'foot, walk;' the result straightway ensues. If I say, ' intellect, turn yourself from thinking on ma- ' thematical subjects, to dwelling on this parliamentary 'speech;' — so long as I continue the command, the desired act also continues. On the other hand, if I say, ' body, become thin ;' or ' hair, grow more quickly ;' or ' stomach, digest more agreeably ; ' no result ensues of any kind. Or if, without having studied mathe- matics, I say, ' intellect, contemplate the properties of ' conic sections; ' — again no result ensues. In all these cases, you see, the will either commands despotically, or commands not at all. What is the difference between despotical and poli- tical government ? Without attempting complete pre- cision, it may be said perhaps that the distinction turns, rather on the character and circumstances of the people, than on the form of government. If the people are barbarians, trained to be mere passive tools in their go- vernors' hand, the government is despotic ; otherwise it is political. The difference which we mean to express is of the following kind. If a despot once obtains a clear view, that such a measure is important for the well-being of his country, — nothing remains, but to enact that measure and execute it. How different with a ' political ' sovereign ! He sees clearly that a measure is very good and important ; but it will shock public opinion. ' I must exercise management here,' he says ; ' I must conceal my ultimate projects ; I must veil what ' I do under an acceptable appearance ; nay, I must ' cease from attempting what is best, that I may secure ' what is practicable.' Or to go in my illustrations, from one extreme of human life to another, look at the angler who has hooked a large fish. His power over it is ' political ' and not despotic. If he tries by main force to land him, the line will break and the fish escape Q 226 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. altogetlier. Yet lie has a very real power over the fish, if he will only understand that it is ' political.' He draws the fish quietly backward and forAvard, till its strength is exhausted ; if it struggles a good deal for deliverance, he allows it a little free play for a few moments, and then begins again. At length his efforts are crowned with success, and the fish is safely depo- sited in his basket. Now this is a model for the fit way of dealing with our sensitive appetite, when we wish to controul it. I am frantic with an emotion of rage, at some stinging insult which I have received. By help of prayer indeed and God's answering grace, I keep my will most firmly fixed in the right direction ; but can I compel my inflamed passions to be suddenly cool ? can I say, * violent emotions, cease and leave me to repose ?' I might as profitably address my command to the swelling and raging ocean. Am I powerless then in quelling the storm ? Very far indeed from it ; I may govern it to a very great extent, if I will only be content to do so ' politically.' For instance, I fix my thoughts in a careful and sustained way on the fact, how immeasurably fouler and baser are those outrages which God has received at my hand, than are any which I have been called on to endure. Or I think of the very many extenuating circumstances attending the injury I have received. Or I think how far more deserving of pity than of anger, is the poor man who has inflicted on me this blow. And so, in the very process of such thoughts, a gradual change takes place in my emotions ; my sensitive apj^etite comes into harmony with my will ; and God remains master of the whole field. This being understood, I proceed to answer the question before us. In every case, as we have seen, the will consents to the emotion, if it elicit one par- ticuUir act: strictly speaking therefore, it resists^ if instead of that one act it elicits any other act whatever. Thus it often happens, as St. Augustine says, that ' vitia vitiis vincuntur;' a temptation to sloth^ e. g, is RELATION BETWEEN WILL AND SENSITIVE AITETITE. 227 overcome on the motive of avarice. Yet in the or- dinary theological sense we are not said to resist temptation, unless we elicit some virtuous^ or at least indifferent act, in place of that sinful act to which the temptation solicits. What kind of act we may in each particular case most profitably choose, is a matter of spiritual pru- dence ; and to decide it is an important portion of the ascetical art. But more commonly, I suppose, it is better to fix our own mind on thoughts of the most opposite character. So, if we are suffering under strong emotions of ill-humour (see n. 102), a very good way of resistance will be, to work particularly at doing good turns to the various persons on whom our ill-humour seeks to vent itself; or if we have no opportunity for that, wishing them definite blessings. Under an emotion of envy, it may be well to pray earnestly that this or that definite good may befall the object of our envy ; and to do what may lie in our power, towards promoting that good. Under the tempt- ation of vain-glory, it will always be useful to ponder carefully and in fullest detail, on various circumstances in my past life, under which I have cut a most con- temptilDle figure ; nay sometimes perhaps to pray for still further humiliations. If the emotion be of pride, let me dwell on some fact of my life so humiliating, that I should be crushed at the very thought of the world knowing it ; in order that I may suflftciently taste my own contemptibleness. Yet, though this is perhaps the more common rule, there may be occa- sions often enough, when we shall act more prudently in turning our thoughts to matters altogether hetero- geneous ; to mathematical studies, or to a game at cricket. But this truth also must be carefully observed. "\Ye may be really and truly refusing our consent to the emotion, while we are taking no steps whatever to- wards diminishing; or subduinir it. This is evident on the surface, from what has been said. So long as my will refuses to elicit that act to which the temptation 228 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. solicits it, so long I am resisting the temptation. Here then again is a question of spiritual prudence. Gene- rally, no doubt, it is better to adopt measures of one" kind or another, towards removing the dangerous emo- tion altogether ; yet, sometimes we shall do more wisely, in despising it (as it were) and leaving it to itself. So long as the emotion be not accompanied with the tliouglit of an evil object, no effort at all Avill be necessary (as we have seen)* to prevent the will's consent : but even when the thought is present, much less exertion is required for merely averting that con- sent^ than would be requisite if we attempted the further task of subduing the emotion. And this very question is often asked and thus answered in books of Moral Theology. Thus, St. Alplionsus (de peccatis in genere, c. i. n. 6,) enquires, ' An peccet graviter qui ' negative se hahet^ et positive non resistit motui ' appetitus sensitivi circa objectum sub mortali pro- ' hibitum.' He takes for granted, either that there is no thought of this mortally sinful object, and so (for the moment) no temptation; or else, that at all events the will is firm in refusing to elicit that act, to which it is solicited. And, supposing this, he asks, whether a man is, further bound to aim at subduing the emotion itself. One thing however is evident, and has a very im- portant bearing on the question immediately before us. So long as the emotion remains unsubdued, there is a constant and most imminent danger, of an evil thought entering the mind, and of the active temptation thus recurring. Suppose, e.g. the emotion be one of fiery rage, occasioned by some galling insult. There is most imminent danger, lest ' actus primo-primi ' of the intellect make continual incursions, representing how pleasurable it would be to punish our foe. If, in- deed, we are faithful to grace, these thoughts, con- stantly recurring, are constantly put away ; but then, perhaps, as constantly tliey return again. Under a very violent emotion, tliere may be an almost un- * (n. 100.) RELATION BETWEEN WILL AND SENSITIVE APPETITE. 229 broken series of intellectual 'actus primo-primi:' like those curv es of which we read in mathematics, abound- ing in what are called conjugate points ; in other words, made up to a great extent (as one may say) of a number of points, which are infinite in number, and yet no two of them exactly in contact with each other. Nay, there may be an absolutely unbroken continuation of foul images; specially where diabolical agency is at work. The will, at every instant, is occupied in reject- ing the intellectual ' actus-primo - primus ' of the former instant, while suffering in this very new instant from a fresh intellectual incursion. Such miserable facts as these, often make it difficult for a holy man to know, whether he is firmly resisting temptation; and such facts accordingly have from time to time caused most bitter ano;uish to the hiohest Saints. ' Viri timo- rati ' are tempted to regard the very continuance of this intellectual picture, as a proof that they have in some degree consented; whereas the fact has very probably been, that they have been simply acquiring great trea- sures of merit. On the particular case then of resisting temptation^ the sum of our remarks will appear to be this : — (1) In the great majority of cases, it will be very desirable to aim, by such ingenious devices as liaA^e been illustrated at length, to subdue the emotion. (2) The temptation, however, may be faithfully re- sisted, without any attempt to subdue the emotio7i; if we take pains to elicit some good or indifferent act at each instant, in place of that evil act to which we are soli- cited. (3) However highly inflamed be the emotion, — so long as there is no thought of the evil object, there is no present temptation; though we are in most im- minent and momentary danger of temptation arising. And on the more general question, of the will's power to withstand the sensitive appetite, two pro- positions will state all that is important. ( 1 . ) At every moment the will possesses the phy- sical power, of resisting those solicitations which arise from the sensitive appetite; or in other words, of 230 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. putting forth some different act, from that to which those soHcitations invite him. The will possesses this power, through its despotic government of the intellect ; by means of turning the thoughts, with an effort, into this or that totally distinct direction. How far this power is always a moral (as well as physical) power — as, for instance, where the emotion is a strong temptation and there is no recourse to prayer — this is quite a separate consideration, and belongs to a much later portion of our work. We have not yet treated on the difference between moral and physical power ; and (though we had done so) the question just stated does not appertain to the relation between will and sensitive appetite, but turns rather on the intrinsic streno'th or weakness of the will itself. There is no question of more vital im- portance ; but it does not find its fit place here. (2.) To resist the solicitations of the sensitive appetite is one thing; to aim at subduing those emo- tions themselves^ is quite a different and a further thing. 231 Section IV. On Certain other PJienomena of the Will. 108. Here we close tins series of enquiries, con- cerning the relation which exists between will and sensitive appetite. There are other enquiries, which are even much more important, concerning the will's relation to the intellect. But these are so indissolubly mixed up with the great doctrine of Liberty, — and this again with the most controverted portions of the ' Grace' treatise, — that we must defer their methodical investigation till we enter on Theology. Several truths, indeed, which are then to be fully and methodically considered, will by necessity be partially implied and taken for granted in the earlier part of the course ; as, in fact, they have been already. But the full state- ment and development of those truths must come later. There are certain propositions however, in regard to the will, over and above those treated in the last Section, which even at this early stage require to be stated with some degree of definitiveuess and clearness. To do this will be our purpose in this present Section. The ' modal affections' of the will, ' Amor,' ' Deside- rium,' and the rest, are comparatively seldom spoken about, I think, eo nomine in Theology; except when the relation between will and sensitive appetite is being considered. Different phrases are commonly used, whether to express the same or other phenomena; such phrases I mean, as ' Intentio finis,' ' Fruitio finis,' ' Electio mediorum.' 109. By 'Intentio finis' is signified something more than ' Amor finis ; ' it is more nearly analogous perhaps to the modal affection ' Spes.' The intellect proposes the end, not merely as desirable, but as in some degree 232 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. ' hic et nunc' attainable. To the pursuit of this end, the will cleaves with greater or less efficacity ; in other words, I resolve at once to aim in some way or other at some attainment of the desirable end. Then comes ' Electio mediorum ; ' out of the various means conducive to that end, I choose this or that according to my innate freedom. Lastly, so far as I succeed, comes the ' Fruitio finis.' This, precisely and in every respect, corresponds to the modal aflfection ' Gaudium.' My intellect represents the pleasurable end, as in greater or less degree attained; and my will cleaves to that end, so represented, with greater or less efficacity. In other words, I elicit an act of which this is the true analysis ; ' I would go through this or that amount of ' exertion, rather than lose this pleasure which I have * thus attained.' The whole of this statement, which we find in the books, must be understood in a sense, not inconsistent with the following undoubted fact. It happens again and again, that it is the suggestion of media, which changes the '^?«,or finis' into an '' Intentio finis ;^ that the thought of the means comes in fact Jirst, and the intention of the end is later. For instance, I am a very vain-glorious man : so often therefore as I think of popularity, I elicit a very energetic act of the will, under the head 'Amor finis.' A particular means of acquiring fresh popularity oflfers itself; the going up to town, to speak at a public meeting in favour of some popular question. Immediately I elicit an ' intentio finis;' a resolve to increase my popularity in the way suggested : and I adopt the requisite means accordingly. 110. In order to attain my end, a connected chain of means is often necessary. I live four miles from a railway-station, and that station is eighty miles from London. I walk to the railway, that I may be carried to London. Here then (1) I walk to the railway, in order that I may obtain the convenience of the train. (2) I desire the convenience of the train, that I may more comfortably go to London. (3) I desire to go to London, in order that I may attend a meeting which ON CERTAIN OTHER TIIENOMENA OF THE WILL. 233 will be held tliere. (4) I desire to attend that meeting, in order that I may be the more popular. (5) I desire to be more popular, in order that I may think myself so. (6) I desire to think myself so, because of the great pleasure which that thought gives me. In this connected chain of ends, the last named is that which we call the ' absolute' end; viz., 'that I may enjoy the pleasure of thinking myself more popular.' The other ends are ^relative' or '-intermediate.'' Instead of 'absolute end,' the phrase 'ultimate end' is more com- monly adopted ; but there is such very great variety of usage, as to the sense of this phrase ' ultimus finis,' that I must prefer ' absolute end.' I propose therefore uni- versally to adopt that phrase. On ' Fruitio finis' and ' Electio mediorum,' nothing more need be said; but ' Intentio finis' must be con- sidered under some further aspects. 111. If I am really doing or resolving on Kfor the sake of end B, I am at this moment desiring and in- tending end B. This is so very obvious, that no explanation or argument can make it more so. If I am not at this moment desiring B at all^ how can I be resolving on A for its sake f I may be desiring A ; but my reason for doing so at this moment wall be some- thing else, and not my desire of B, if I am not desiring B at this moment at all.* It is most important however to observe, that I may be most really desiring B, and yet not consciously thinking of B. The full consideration of this most im- portant fact, belongs of course to the general question of the relation between intellect and will ; yet even at this early stage, some general notion of what is meant seems indispensable. Take then the following hints, from the illustration already given, where I am walking to the next town to catch the train. Suppose a friend * " Impossibile est aliquid actu appeti prout utile est, et non ex volun- tate aliqua q^iw actu maneat circa finem, saltern confuse apprehensum. Quod si iiec maneat voluntas finis confuse apprehensi, jam medium non poterit appeti prout utile [sc. ut medium], sed quatenus honestum aut jucundum seu delectabile secundum se [sc. ut finis]." — Vasquez, in Im 2ce, d. 4, 0. 2. 234 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. is with me, in whose conversation I am very greatly interested. I will suppose that there are a great number of different turns in the road, w^hich I am quite as often in the habit of taking, as that particular route which leads to the town. INIy friend and myself pursue our walk, quite engrossed in the interesting matters which we are discussing ; and we are quite surprised to find how quickly the time has passed, and that here we are at the station. Now it is plain (com- pletely as we seem to have been engrossed by our conversation, little as we have explicitly been thinking about town or railwa}^, ) that the intention of going to the town has really and actively influenced us through- out. How otherwise can you possibly account for the fact, that we have steadily pursued that one road^ neglecting the innumerable turns which I have sup- posed to exist? Will you say that the habit of going to the town is enough to account for it? Not at all; for I have supposed that there is none of the turns, which I have not equally been in the habit of taking. There must have been an intention, really inflowing into my acts ; really, practically, energetically, in- fluencing me; — and yet such, that I have not been reflecting or thinking of it at all. This unconscious intention may be very definite ; or it may be vague to almost any imaginable extent. In the above case evidently it is most definite. So definitely are my intentions fixed on that particular town, that in every single instance, — without so much hesitation as would reinstate a conscious reflection on what I am doing, — I choose, as a matter of course, the one road thither leading, in preference to any other alternative. But why do I wish to catch the railway and go to town? It may well be that this consideration is not at all definitely before my mind. It may well be, that I am not definitely aiming at all at the pleasure of popularity to be gained at the public meeting. It may well be, that I have no more definite thought of my motive for going to London, than that it is for the sake of some end or other, vaguely remembered^ ON CERTAIN OTHER PHENOMENA OF THE WILL. 235 as having been thoiiglit by me pleasurable when I formed the intention. But if this be so, then it is not strictly true to say that I am at this moment desiring to go to town for the sake of acquiring popularity. The act, whereby, during my walk to the town, I desire to reach the train, will be truly analyzed thus ; ' I ' desire to catch the train, for the sake of some end, of ' which I merely remember that I thought it pleasurable ' when last I distinctly thought of it at all.' It will be in accordance with theoloa;ical usasre, if we call the intention 'implicit' while it remains (with- out our thinking of it) in a definite shape; and 'virtual' when it is only the vague memory of it which continues. Meanwhile we may keep the term 'unconscious' in- tention for the present, as a common term ; as including both 'implicit' and 'virtual.' The statements of theologians on this subject will be more suitably introduced, when we treat the subject itself at length ; i. e. when we treat definitively the relation between intellect and will. On the other hand, the facts, here stated, have their appropriate evi- dence of course in our own consciousness. 112. We have liitherto spoken, as though I aimed but at one absolute end in the same instant. But this is most rarely the case; and in general a considej'able number of absolute ends are simultaneously inflowing into the Will. If 1 go to town, it will probably not be merely for the sake of attending that meeting: there will be some interesting matters to talk over with my lawyer ; and some old friend to see, from whom I have long been separated. Even when these are most vaguely represented, my will will be aiming, not at 'one end' but at various ends; of which I remember that I thought them pleasurable, when I last distinctly thought of them at all. The common theological usage is to consider only one absolute end as appertaining to one ' actus humanus.' Hence in those very numerous cases where more than one absolute end is influencing my will, as many dif- ferent acts are considered to be simultaneously proceed- 236 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. ing, as there are difFerent absolute ends. Suppose, e. g. that I help a poor man, through a mixed motive of virtuousness and vain-glory : it will be considered that two acts of mine are simultaneously proceeding ; one virtuous, the other vicious under the head of vain-glory. 113. You will at first be more than a little sur- prised, at the notion that intellectual acts, so important and so influential, can proceed in the mind with so little reflection. This fact indeed is one of the most im- portant in all Psychology ; and when we treat on the relations of intellect and will, it must receive our most careful attention. This will be a convenient place for stating more distinctly, that the phrase ' Intentio finis ' is used quite as properly, in regard to a ' relative or intermediate' end, as in regard to an ' absolute' end. Thus in the instance of walking with a friend to catch the railway, the end was merely 'relative or intermediate;' yet we have said that the ' implicit intention ' of that end influenced me tliroughout the walk. 114. We have considered hitherto two kinds of in- tention, directed towards an end; 'explicit' and 'uncon- scious.' There is a third kind very frequently met with in Theology; viz. 'habitual.' The habitual in- tention of an end which has once been proposed, is considered to continue so long, as it is not explicitly or implicitly revoked. Thus suppose a priest forms the intention to-day, of oflering all his masses for the next month for some definite object. He thinks no more about it ; the intention in no sense inflows further into his acts, neither explicitly nor unconsciously; but still his 'habitual intention' is not on that account con- sidered to cease. But suppose, at the end of a week, totally forgetful of his former intention, he makes the intention of oflering all liis masses of the next week for a purpose altogether diflerent. This is an implicit revocation of his former intention ; because, thougli lie has lost all memory of that intention, the latter intention is directly inconsistent with the former. The former intention tlien is said to be implicitly re- ON CEKTAIN OTHER PHENOMENA OF THE WILL. 237 yoked ; the habitual intention is said no longer to remain. The former intention may also of" course be explicitly revoked ; but this is too plain to need illustration. Now this theological use of the word ' hal^itual,' is very different from that which ordinarily obtains. In ordinary parlance, the phrase ' habitual intention' would be considered as implying ^ far closer connection with present action than it does in Theology. For instance, I should naturally say ' I have an habitual intention of avoiding mortal sin;' but tliis w^ould mean a great deal more than, ' I once intended it, and have not since intended the contrary.' It would mean nothing less than this ; ' so soon as I am for a moment tempted to ' mortal sin, that intention of avoiding it, which was ' latent, becomes apparent ; that which was dormant is ' roused into action.' Or consider, if it be not too light an example, the kind of intention which I have to wind up my watch at night. I should naturally call it an ' habitual intention ; ' yet plainly it is much more, than that merely I once intended to do so, and have never revoked that intention. As soon as the ordinary time for the process arrives, by a sort of habit or instinct, the actual intention is awakened, and the act succeeds as a matter of course. Or take the kind of intention which is engendered by any virtuous habit ; the habit of tem- perance, for instance. Suppose that by long self- discipline I have become temperate in a high degree. Well, I am not eliciting acts of temperance all day long; yet all day long I do possess a certain quality of soul, in virtue of which, so soon as the opportunity of temperance arises, — so soon as I sit down to table, — various temperate intentions actually influence and direct my will. I think it is of great importance for various theologi- cal purposes, that this particular kind of intention should be carefully recognized ; and in order that it may be so recognized, it w^ill be far better to give it a separate name. Let us call it therefore a ' prevalent' intention. I am said accordingly to have a 'prevalent' intention of doing this or that, when I have no intention indeed of the kind (explicitly or unconsciously) at this mo- 238 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. merit influencing my will; but when my soul is in fact so constituted^ (whether by nature or habit,) that on the suitable occasion such an intention would quite certainly and spontaneously arise. A ' prevalent inten- tion ' then is, in fact, one particular species of ' habitual ' intention ; but a species possessing many important pro- perties of its own. A ' prevalent intention ' implies that some certain quality exists at this moment in the will ; but a ' merely habitual ' intention by no means implies this. We had better (to prevent confusion of ideas), sum up here, and place in one view the various subdivi- sions of 'intention' which have been suggested. There is at first starting a three-fold division ; viz. into ' ex- plicit,' ' unconscious,' and ' habitual' intention. Then ' unconscious' is further subdivided into ' implicit' and ' virtual ; ' while ' habitual ' is also subdivided into ^merely habitual' and 'prevalent.' Lastly, going back to the original threefold division, ' real ' includes both 'explicit' and 'unconscious,' SuS distinct irom. 'habitual.' 115. I must not close for the present this matter of intention, without begging you again carefully to dis- tinguish 'Intentio' from 'Amor' or ' Desiderium.' 'lu- tentio' always implies (as we have already observed) that we propose to aim at the end. Whenever our will cleaves to the end as desirable, without any pur- pose or notion of ourselves aiming at it, our act is either one of 'Amor' or 'Desiderium.' Look, for in- stance, at the two first, out of those three condemned propositions already quoted in n. 102: — Si cum debita moderatione facias, potes, absque peccato mortali, de vita alicujus tristari, et de illius morte natural! gaudere, illam ineffi.caci affectu petere et dcsiderare, non quidem ex displicentia personse, sed ob aliquod temporale emolumentum. Licitum est absoluto desiderio cupere mortem patris, non quidem ut malum patris, sed ut bonum cupientis ; quia nimiriim ei obventura est pinguis hsereditas. — Denz. prop. 13, 14, p. 325. In the second of these occurs the phrase, 'absoluto ON CERTAIN OTHER PHENGMENA OF THE WILL. 239 desiderio ciipere mortem patris.' The question is not at all, in regard to the least thought of 7nurdering his father; but simply of his will cleaving to his father's death, as to a desirable object. And, in the first propo- sition, the words ' inefficaci afFectu petere et desiderare ' do not refer at all to what is called ' Intentio inefficax,' but simply to ' Desidcrium;' as the very words shew. The same remark applies to the ' absoluto desiderio cupere ' of the second proposition. On the other hand, the distinction between ' Intentio efficax ' and ' ineffi- cax ' cannot possibly be, that in the latter case we do not aim at the end ; that ' Intentio inefficax' does not ordinarily result in action ; for if it did not, it would not he ' Intentio ' at all. No : the distinction between ' In- tentio efficax ' and ' inefficax ' turns on the greater or less degree of firmness or tenacity with which the will resolves on aiming at the end. As this distinction is one of no slight importance, I hope carefully to consider it in our work ' de actibus humanis.' 116. This will be a convenient place, for stating an- other very important proposition in regard to the will. This proposition is so obvious, when stated, that you will wonder at me for taking the trouble to enunciate such a truism ; and yet I hardly know one doctrine so frequently neglected. It is this: — Good and had acts of the ivill are what they are, and not what we reflect on them as being. Notwithstanding the obvious un- deniableness of this proposition, I will add a few words to explain its meaning. In order that any act of the will may take place, a certain object must be represented by the intellect, as possessing this or that combination of qualities; as in- vested with these or those accompanying circumstances. To the object, thus presented, the will freely tends in a certain intrinsic mode; and thus the act is complete. Many such acts take place, without the intellect re- flecting on them in the slightest degree. But it often happens that the case is otherwise; that the intellect does reflect on the act itself, and analyzes it truly or falsely as the case may be. My thesis is this : that the 240 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. act is what it is ; and that, supposing the intellect were to analyze it ever so mistakenly, such an intellectual error could in no possible way affect the real character of the act itself. Now the neglect of this very plain truth, often leads us to think our acts better, and often worse, than they really are. For instance, we desire to make acts of faith, hope, and charity ; and many men unaffectedly think, that if we have recited (with seriousness and attention) the words put down for us in our prayer- book, we have accomplished our end. I will give you at once a ' reductio ad absurdum ' of this most wild misconception. It is theologically certain (as we shall see in due time) that every sinner, even the foulest, who elicits a real theological act of ' Amor super omnia,' is at once justified ' extra sacramentum.' Now from the notion which I am attacking, this strange result would follow ; that the foulest sinner, who should with serious- ness and attention recite the words put down in the prayer-book for a theological act of love, would be ipso facto justified without a moment's delay ; an adopted son of God; an heir of Heaven. A short and easy road indeed to that happy abode ! * You will ask at once, what conditions are necessary, * So the most lenient Francolinus — ' Peccatoribus, \\i facile est ore pronu7iciare formulam contritionis, ita perdifficile est ver^ et ex corde talem actum facere.' De Dolore requisito, 1. 1, c. 1, n. 38. He draws attention to the same distinction, in regard to attrition also, between reciting the due formula and eliciting the due act. De Poen. Disc, 1. 3, c. 3, sub finem. LugOj ' Quis certo scit veram fuisse contritionem quam habuit?' De Pce7iitentid, d. 7, n. 266. Turlot, ' Nolim putes contritionis actum consistere aut perfici verbis quibusdam studiose conceptis ; v. g. dicendo, 'Domine Deus doleo,' &c sed in cordiali affectu sub ejusmodi verbis supposito.' Catcch., pars 4, c. 5, lee. 2. F. Vaubert, S. J., ' La premiere chose dont il faut so garder, c'est de s'imaginer avoir fait un acte de foi ou d'esperauce ou de quelqu'autre vertu que ce soit, lorsqu'on en a prononce du bout des Ihvres quelque formule, ou qu'on 1' a sculement repass6e dans sa memoire. ..... II y a autant de difference entre uu acte de vertu, et ces formules qu'on sait par cceur ou qu'on lit dans les livres, qu'il y en a entre le roi et son portrait! Traite de la Commu)iion, par. 4, n. 2. Ripalda, ' JEgr^ potest homo discretionem facere rationum formalium quce ipsum movent ad suos actus. Ego experimento ccrno id hand facile f;eri.' De Ente Super. d. 45, n. 1 3. lliijalda quotes Suarcz to the same effect : ' Nunquam homo scit cvidenter, an e.x pura su2)ernaturali ratione moveatur et opere- tur ? ' De araticl, 1. 2, c. 11, ii. 35. ON CERTAIN OTHER PHENOMENA OF THE WILL. 241 that our acts may realhj be acts of faith, hojDC, and love.* It is impossible of course to exaggerate the im- portance of this question; both that you may your- selves elicit such acts, and that you may hereafter teach your people how to do so. We shall consider it therefore in its due place, with a care and completeness, not disproportioued (I hope) to its most vital practical moment. So much on tlie case, where we think our acts better than they really are. But we often think them worse. A good man, again and again, elicits real acts of faith, hope, and love, from the very depths of his believing, hoping, and loving heart, without reflection of anv kind. And here non-theoloo;ical men are con- tinually apt to fancy, that these are not true acts of faith, hope, and love at all. Having in the former case said of an act, that it is what it is not; — here they begin to say, that it is not what it is: just as if a lion were not a lion, nor a tiger a tiger, imless ticketed and labelled as they might be in a menagerie ! Among all the various acts of love, which our Blessed Lady was eliciting without intermission in via, I should like to know how many she reflected upon or analyzed. Of course, her thoughts were so absorbed in God, that she had neither leisure nor inclination to turn, from the thought of Him, to the thought of herself and her own acts. Our proposition, however, must be carefully guarded against misconception. Any act of will depends of course essentially, for its character, on that intellectual act which preceded it; I am only saying, that it does not depend for its character in the slightest degree on any intellectual ?iQX>^\\\Q\\ follows it. It depends, for its character, essentially on the mode in which its object was intellectually represented ; I am but saying that it does 7iot depend at r///, for its character, on any other in- tellectual act, except this. Take two instances in illus- * Acts of faith, being intellectual, might appear as not strictly in point : but the ' pia atfectio voluntatis' is of course an act of will ; and the act of faith follows from that ' pia affectio ' as a matter of course. R 242 PHILOSOPHICAL introduction. tratioii. Suppose acts A and B are precisely similar, in regard to the thing externally done ; for instance, eat- ing meat on a Friday : but that they differ totally in the preceding intellectual representation. In perform- ing act A, I remembered the Church's prohibition ; but in performing act B I totally forgot it. Or more gene- rally, in one case the thing done was intellectually pro- posed as sinful; in the other case not. It is plain that these two acts are as different from each other in cha- racter, as any one act can well be from any other. But now suppose (and it is the case contemplated by the proposition we are considering) that you and I both commit an act, which we perfectly knew at the time we did it to be mortally sinful ; which, in both cases, the intellect represented as such at the time of its commission. You and I, however, are most different in character and habits. You are a novice in sin; and for that very reason, the remembrance of what you have done haunts you through the day. But for myself, I am from long habit callous and obdurate; I am con- stantly in the habit of doing things which I know to be mortally sinful ; and the result is, since this particular act had nothing specially to distinguish it from a hun- dred others done in the day, that I have never reflected on it for a moment^ either as being sinful or otherwise. It is obvious on the very surface, that this distinction between yon and me, a distinction wholly external to the act, cannot by possibility be a ground for any dis- tinction, between the respective character of these two acts themselves.^ 117. We are now in a position to draw out the various kinds of ' bonum.' To enter on the full mean- * I am not here meaning to imply an oi)inion, that for mortal sin it is always neces^iary, that the object should be explicitly proposed by the intellect as sinful. This is a question much controverted in the schools ; and my own opinion on it is, that in the case of obdurate sinners such explicit proposition is not requisite for mortal sin. This opinion 1 shall defend to the best of my power, in its proper theological j)lace, by such arguments as appear to me cogent. Still it must always remain true, that an act, in which the object was not proposed by the intel- lect as sinful, possesses a very important intrinsic difference from one in which it was. ON CERTAIN OTHER PHENOMENA OF THE WILL. 243 ing of the word 'boniini,' would lead us to philo- sophical enquiries, which are important indeed, but somewhat complicated. This is in no sense requisite, for the sake of that part of Theology, to which our present work is an introduction. We may answer all our necessary purposes here, by defining 'bonum' simply as ' that at which the human will can aim.' Of how many kinds then are 'bona?' 118. First, as we have already seen in many in- stances, the human will can aim at pleasure; or in other words, one class of 'bonum' will be 'bonum delectabile.' We may aim either at ' positive ' or at ' negative ' pleasure ; by ' negative pleasure,' meaning ' relief from pain.' Moreovei* we can pursue pleasure, whether positive or negative, in two different stages; we may pursue present or future pleasure. And now to give examples of these different phenomena. If I eat of some attractive dish, which I know will make me ill next day, I am pursuing ' present positive ' jDleasure. If, when next day comes, I refuse to take the medicine, which has been rendered necessary by that indulgence, I again pursue jwesent pleasure; but here it is negative. If I rise early, and go to bed late, and deny myself sufficient food and recreation, — all for the purpose of amassing vast wealth, in order that I may derive therefrom every kind of comfort and in- dulgence — I am pursuing 'future positive' pleasure. You will say perhaps, that the prospect of that future pleasure is itself present pleasure. During great part of my labour it is so ; but even then, a very little con- sideration will shew that this accounts only for part of my will's energy (see n. 112). One absolute end may be the prese?it pleasure of looking forward to future wealth ; but another absolute end, quite as influential or probably much more so, is the future pleasure, which I consider as promoted by this present toil. Indeed there are commonly periods, not inconsiderable in duration, when the present pleasure quite ceases ; periods which correspond, in the Devil's service, to times of aridity in the service of God: during these 244 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. periods we are working exclusively for future positive pleasure. Lastly, perhaps I work hard day and night, to get up my defence in some trial, which threatens my fortune or my life: in such case I am working for future negative pleasure. So far indeed as I labour for the purpose of appeasing my jjresent emotion of fear, so far no doubt I am pursuing a jjresent negative pleasure; but when this emotion of fear is for the moment away, I am still able to work very energeti- cally and consistently ; and I am thus pursuing ^ future negative ' pleasure. So we see that the human will can pursue bona delectabilia in four different shapes: (1) present posi- tive pleasure; (2) present negative j^leasure ; (3) future positive pleasure; (4) future negative pleasure. Again, we may further subdivide ' bonum delec- tabile,' according to the particular nature of that pro- pension, to which any such ' bonu.m' respectively ap- pertains. Some propensions, as we have seen, are satisfied by our merely thinking that their object exists ; others require a far closer contact (see n. 93). Those 'bona delectabilia' which belong to the latter class, we may call ' bona physice delectabilia;' the rest ' mentaliter delectabilia.' 118. Secondly, we are able (in some degree at least) to pursue virtuousness for its own sake; or in other words, a second kind of 'bonum' will be 'bonum ho- nestum.' This will be most evident by giving a few instances. Take that case of the deposit, which we had so constantly before us in the last Chapter. Plainly I have the full power of giving back my friend his jewel, for no reason in the world, except simply because I am under the obligation of doing so. Or if I have con- tracted a small debt, the payment of which is in no way inconvenient, I am fully able to make such payment on demand, for no reason in the world except because it would be dishonest to refuse. Now take a further instance. Suppose I am as- sailed by a violent temptation against the Sixth Com- ON CERTAIN OTHER PHENOMENA OF THE WILL. 245 mandment ; suppose all my emotions, the whole of my sensitive nature, enlisted for the moment on tlie side of sin. I kneel before a crucifix; and while praying earnestly to my Saviour for help, I ponder at tlie same time with so much earnestness on the baseness of re- paying His bounteous love with ingratitude, that I am sustained for a while against temptation simply by this prayer and this thought. Presently perliaps, in order to strengthen my resolution, I call before my mind such further thoughts, as the fearfulness of Hell suffering, and the various appalling torments which would there await me ; and when I have done this, my emotions no doubt are in some degree helping me on the side of virtue. But let us confine our attention to the earlier part of this resistance; to the part which elapsed, before this appeal to sensitive fear. During that earlier part, I was performing an admirable act, under the head of purity : and for what end ? Simply the virtuousness of shewing gratitude for my Re- deemer's love. What other end can be named? It was in no degree for the sake of any devotional sweet- ness ; for my whole sensitive appetite was at the time playing the Devil's game, and acting directly against the cause of virtue. I repeat, the end was, and could be, no other, than the virtuousness of shewing gratitude for my Redeemer's love. Here you may make the objection, that this act of virtue was (1) supernatural and (2) rendered possible only by prayer. As to its being supernatural, this plainly does not affect the question. Reason shews us that the act above described is good; and experience shews us that it may exist. These two truths are in no way interfered with by a third truth ; viz. that this act is not good only, but supernatural also. Indeed it may be well here to state briefly a fact, on which, under the head of Grace, we shall have to enlarge. God takes care always to adjust His grace to the fixed and re- cognized laws of our nature; according to that well- known maxim of the schools, ' Gratia se accommodat Naturae.' Why does He so act ? Because the whole 246 PHILOSOPHICAL INTKODUCTION. Christian religion is based on faitli ; and if we could experience the Supernatural, there would be no room for faith. Now for the second supposed objection: viz. that the act was only rendered possible by prayer; that by prayer only was I able thus manfully to acquit myself in the conflict ; that, had prayer (at least im- plicit prayer) ceased, my will would soon have sur- rendered to my bitter enemy. This fact undoubtedly is an observed fact of human nature, and not known merely by Revelation ; viz. that when I make use of prayer, I am able to do ten thousand good acts, which without prayer I could 7iot do. No more important fact than this can be named in all Psychology ; and it is one, on which we shall lay the very greatest stress in all our work. Still this fact in no way interferes with our conclusion. It was a fjict undoubtedly, that I was praying ; but it was no less a fact, that I was eliciting a most energetic act of purity, from the pure end of gratitude to my Saviour. You will ask, as I can aim simply at a future ' bonum delectabile,' can I also aim simply at ^future 'bonum honestum?' The question is of some nicety, and shall be treated under ' de actibus humanis.' But it is of no practical importance ; for no act can be virtuous^ unless it be done for the sake of present * bonum honestum ;' for the sake of that virtuousness which is inherent in the act itself. (See n. 56, p. 123.) In the catalogue then of ' bona,' we are fully warranted in adding 'honestum' to 'delectabile.' 120. Before going further, it may be asked, can there be an unconscious intention of ' bonum honestum,' as we have seen there so often is of ' bonum delectabile?' A very little observation of what passes in our mind, will shew that this is a most common phenomenon. Perhaps the following illustration will help us in making the necessary introspection. Some fifty years ago, men of the world were in the habit of using most foul and obscene language, in conversation with each other ; yet they always thought ON CERTAIN OTHER PIIENOxAIENA OF THE WILL. 247 it most ungentlemanly to use such expressions in the presence of ladies. I will suppose two gentlemen of the jieriod to be most busy in conversation with each other, while ladies are present. They are wholly engrossed, so far as they are themselves conscious, witli the subjects which they are upon ; politics, or the stock-exchange, or sporting. They are not explicitly thinking of the ladies at all; and yet, if they are really gentlemen, the presence of the ladies exercises upon them a most real and practical influence. It is not that they find themselves to fall into bad language, and then apologize. No ; they are, during the whole time, so restrained by the presence of the ladies, that they don^t dream of such expressions. Yet on the other hand, no one will say, that the freedom of their thought and conversation is perceptibly influenced at all. If it be so common a thing to preserve an uncon- scious remembrance of owy fellow-men^ s presence, how abundantly practicable must it be, to preserve a remem- brance, precisely similar in kind, of our Creator ! And interior men, by reflecting on their daily life, will find that this is altogether so with them; that they preserve a practical impression of God's presence, Avliich really inflows into their thoughts and powerfully influences them. They know at the same time that this is no matter of conscious reflection ; nor does it in any per- ceptible degree affect their power, of applying freely and without encumbrance to their various duties as they successivel}^ arise. It Avill be further asked, is there, in the case of 'honestum,' the same distinction between 'implicit' and ' virtual,' which we have recognized in the case of ' delectabile ?' The question is of no great practical moment, but I think that there is this distinction. By one illustration, I shall be able both to explain my statement, and sufficiently to evince its truth. Suppose I set myself carefully to elicit that im- portant act, which is called one of ' Amor super omnia,' or ' sovereign Love.' What the necessary requisites are for such an act, is a question of extreme moment, 248 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. to be considered in our theological course ; but we will suppose that they have been attained. While my mind remains in this posture, or (in other words) while this act proceeds, I apply myself to the performance of various incumbent duties. For some little time, in all probability, the act remains unchanged ; the various duties are performed on the highest of all possible motives. By degrees however, my remembrance of God becomes more vague, though still most real ; this special act of sovereign Love is changed into a com- bination of oflier acts, of which God is more or less directly the Object ; such as those which we shall con- sider in Theology, under the name ' acts of obedience,' ' religion,' and the like. So soon as this is the case, there ceases to be an intention of that p)^^uUar end which is appropriate to sovereign Z/o?;e; for that special end (by hypothesis) no longer inflows into the will. And yet that very end virtually remains ; for the ends, which now actuate my will, are but the present effect and echo of thatybrmer end. 121. Returning now to our catalogue of 'bona' — are there any other absolute ends at which the human will can aim, besides those two which we have consi- dered, viz. virtue and pleasure ? For instance — can we ever act ' propter maUtiam^ for the mere wickedness of an act ? It is agreed by all Catholic theologians and philosophers, that we cannot; according to the phrase so constantly quoted by St. Thomas, ' nemo inteudens ad malum operatur.' And this statement is undeniable. Take the very wickedest man in the whole world, and get him to fix his thoughts carefully on such topics as these : ' what foul ingratitude to neglect my Redeemer;' — ' how exquisitely base and mean to ruin the friend that trusts me.' Will it be found tliat such considerations spur liim on to evil action? that his spirits rise with the con- templation ? that he enters with increased vigour and refreshment, into further acts of sin ? On the contrary, he knows most thoroughly, to the very depth of his heart, that the reverse will take place; and for that very reason, we carit get liim to dwell on such thoughts at all. ON CERTAIN OTHER PHENOMENA OF THE WILL. 249 AVe all of us know, — lie knows and we know, — that if we can only get liini duly to y>o//^/p;' on such thoughts, our success in reclaiming him will be secure. Man then is physically unable to act wrongly ^propter malitiam ;' ([uite as unable as he is to cross a bridge of paper or fly up into the moon. It may be said perhaps, ' Surely there are cases of ' very abandoned sinners, where tJie mere fact of dis- ' obeij'wg God is found to imbue sinful pleasure with ' quite a pecidirn' ze.sf.' No doubt this is true ; and there is something indeed of the same kind, even in men who are very far from abandoned sinners. But these cases present no kind of difficulty in the way of my statement. In such cases, let us grant, men act simply for the pleasure of defying God. Still it is a pleasure. Put the case that there were no pleasure in disobeying God — could a person the?! act for the mere motive of disobedience; '' propter imditmm? ' Clearly not. But you see, on the other hand, men f/o, again and again, act against the ichole current of present pleasure, ' propter honestatem; ' for the sake of the virtuousness of so actins:. No one then can act simply for the sake of wicked- 7iess : nor is there any need to occupy any time in shewing, that neither can any one act for the sake ol pain, simply as such, and as an absolute end. We con- clude therefore, that 'bonum' is rightly and exhaustively divided, as it always is in Theology, into three kinds; ' honestum,' ' delectabile,' ' utile.' * Whenever we act for any end at all, we act either 'propter bonum hones- tum^ for the sake of virtue ; or else ' propter bonum delectabile,' for the sake of pleasure ; or else ' propter bonum utile, ^ for the sake of some object which is useful as a means, towards one or other absolute 'bonum.' Our absolute end will invariably be either ' honestum ' or ' delectabile ;' our relative or interme- diate end will be 'bonum utile.' * See, e. g. St. Thomas' Summa, Ij q. 5, a. 6. 250 Section V. On the Adaptation of our Nature to Virtue.* 123. You may regard this, if you please, as the cul- minating truth of this Chapter; as the truth, to which every earlier remark is prefatory and subservient. In the first Chapter we established, that by intrinsic necessity such and such acts are virtuous, such and such vicious. It will be very suitable then, if we establish in the second, that God by His free Will has so created us, that our nature is adapted to iha practice o^ what is intrinsecaUy virtuous and the avoidance of what is intrinsecaUy vicious. At the same time, in point of fact many of the phenomena, which we shall adduce in behalf of this pro- position, are far more important in other respects, than in their bearing on our conclusion. Still, by adducing them in this shape, we shall have (as it were) a thread to string them together ; and we shall be able to remember them much more distinctly, than might be otherwise pos- sible. Here then is our thesis, to be argued in the present Section. It is plain that the eye was formed for the purpose of seeing, and the ear for the purpose of hearing ; yet it may often happen, that the very organ, given for the purpose of seeing or hearing, not only fails in effecting that purpose, but is the occasion of severe and terrible suffering. In like manner, we maintain that our nature was formed for the practice of virtue ; and yet to main- tain this, is quite consistent with the admission, that mul- titudes \\?i\Q perverted their nature to the practice of vice. 124. The first argument for our thesis, shall be a * Those who are acquainted with the 'Sermons' of Butler, the great Anghcan philosopher, will observe how many thoughts in this Section are taken from them. I have annexed a few quotations from him ; but these will give no adequate idea of the amount of matter due wholly to that great work. ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATUKE TO VlllTUE. 251 very remarkable fact which we have already estal)li,slied (see n. 121). We can, and frequently do, pursue virtue, because it is virtue ; but the wickedest man alive has not so much as the physical power, of pursuing vice because it is vice. Here is a most striking superiority allotted, in our moral nature, to virtue over vice. 125. Secondly. The only absolute ends, which the will can pursue, are ' bonum honestum' and ' delecta- bile:' now observe the circumstance that these are also the only two legifimate ends of action. That ' honestum' is a legitimate end of action, is self-evident; that ' delec- tabile' is so, will be made clear (I hope) in ' de actibus humanis;' meanwhile, to a Christian at least, the prin- ciple is conclusively established, so soon as he re- members how very virtuous are such motives as these, — hope of Heaven and fear of Hell. It is a metaphy- sical truth then, that these two ends 'honestum' and ' delectabile' are the two les-itimate ends of action. And Ave have the psychological fact, corresponding to that metaphysical truth, that they are the only two ends, which have the physical power of influencing our will. 126. Another psychological fact, most strongly to our present purpose, has been mentioned in the First Chapter. (See n. 51, p. 116.) God has so constituted our nature, and so arranged the circumstances in which we have been placed, — that there is no one class of thoughts, brought more constantly before the minds of all, even the most hardened sinners, than those of moral obligation and moral jireferableness. But these thoughts, from their very nature, claim to be the ruling thoughts of our whole life. (See n. 66, p. 133, 4.) With such clamorous urgency does God, in the constitution of our nature, summon us to virtue. 127. Already then I have put before you three argu- ments for our thesis : our fourth shall be the following. The pleasures of reflection are all on the side of virtue. To explain. The good man derives great enjoyment, from pur- suing a virtuous course ; as we shall see fully established in the remaining part of this Section. On the other 252 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. hand, the vicious man carries on his evil course, simply for the sake of that pleasure, which is thence to be derived. So far then, let it be conceded for argument's sake, both are equal in point of enjoyment ; the virtuous man deriving pleasure from the thought of virtuous objects, and the vicious man of vicious. But how as to the pleasures of reflection ? The thought of vicious objects is pleasurable to the bad man; but is the thought of his love for them pleasurable ? Is it a happy thought, e. g. to the voluptuary, that he is the mere slave of sensual enjoyment ? So very far other- wise, — the exact opposite holds so very universally, — that spiritual writers use the phrase, ' to enter into one's self,' as simply expressing the idea ' to lead a virtuous life.' ' Peccator odit animam suam ;' the sinner is unable to bear the thought of his own interior, and shrinks from the very idea of steadily contemplating its state. On the other hand, so far as the good man has reason to believe that he is really advancing in the interior life, really growing in the love of God, — the thought of this fact is among the sweetest pleasures which nature affords. In one word. The good man loves good objects, and the bad man bad objects; but the good man loves his own love of good objects, whereas the evil man hates his own love of things which are evil. 128. Our fifth argument may be introduced as follows. Every separate 'bonum delectabile' corresponds of course to a separate propension. The propension ' Love of Knowledge' turns on that 'bonum delectabile,' the pleasure of knowledge; the propension 'Xoz;e of Praise,' on the pleasure derived from praise. Now (1) if we never aimed at ' bonum delectabile,' we should always aim at 'bonum honestum;' we should lead lives of (lan- guid perhaps but of) fliultless virtue. And (2) were it not for our propensions, we could never aim at ' bonum delectabile.' The logical conclusion is, that the propen- sions are the one disturhing free iti our nature; that were it not for them, a deflection from virtue would be ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 253 physically impossible. It becomes then a matter of great interest, to examine carefully the nature of these propensions. (1.) First we have to make on them one most ob- vious remark. No reason can be given, except God's free appointment, why we have these propensions rather than those. We derive pleasure in fact from acquiring knowledge ; but God might (had He so pleased) have made that process simply painful : and so with the rest. (2.) Further, happiness of course is only obtainable, through gratification of the propensions; it is simply unmeaning to make any contradictory statement. Sup- pose then God had so acted, that the circumstances, under which He has placed us, should afford no object, capable of gratifying those propensions which He has given us. It is plain that, on such a supposition, all happiness, even the very slightest, would be impossible. Nay, — if our propensions had been such as to make themselves felt and clamour for gratification, — then, in the supposed case, misery, awful and unmitigated, must have been our unavoidable doom. Now various argu- ments, as you well know, have been drawn with great force from the visible world, as proving an Intelligent and Benevolent Creator through the plain marks of benevolent design. Flere is another most important addition to such arguments ; viz. the fact that every propension, which makes itself felt, has in fiict an object suited to its gratification^ in those circumstances under which God has placed us. The proof of this statement will be found, in what is immediately to follow. But (3) much more than this may be said. Every propension^ of whose existence we are aware^ has a real and legitimate place in helping us forward to virtue. Christian mortification consists on the whole, — not in thwarting, in checking, in endeavouring to root out, our various propensions,- — but rather the very contrary. Mortification, I say, on the whole, with exceptions pre- sently to be mentioned in detail, consists not in stinting our various propensions, but in giving XhQ\\\ fuller and 254 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. wider scope; in directing tliem to those Objects, wliicli yield them afar higher and deeper satisfaction, than any other objects can give. And our propensions, when they are thus directed, become (as I said) an invakuable help to us, in our attempts to practise virtue. This then is my fifth argument for the thesis of our present Section. To sustain and illustrate it, will occupy a very much longer space, than will the united treat- ment of all our other arguments. But it will (in my humble opinion) amply repay such lengthened con- sideration, by the extreme importance of those results to which it will lead. My first business will be, to establish the above statement ; viz. that every propension, of whose existence we are aware, has a real and legitimate place in helping us forward to virtue. When the truth of this statement is made clear and undeniable, it will be a very simple and easy matter to shew its cogency, as an argument for our immediate thesis. 129. Now here, that I may the better explain my meaning, let us suppose an objection. ' How can the path of virtue be rendered easier,' asks the objector, by becoming more pleasurable f A good act must be di- rected to the virfuousness of its end ; (see n. 56, p. 123), whereas a propension ca7i only draw us towards the pleasure of that end. A propension, then, may help us indeed in the performance of that external act, which is virtuous; but not in its virtuous perform- ance. Take, for instance, that propension already mentioned, our love of knowledge. We are virtuous in studying, only so far as w^e study for the sake of that virtue; whereas the propension, love of know- ledge, inclines us to study on quite a different motive, viz., the act's pdeasurableness.^ Certainly it cannot be denied, that when an emotion of pleasure is excited by the thought of study, and I put forth no special resistance, — my icill also tends to such pleasurableness as an immediate end. But does it at all follow, that my will's whole energy tends towards this end ? There is one act undoubtedly, directed to ' bonuni delectabile ;' but does it follow, does ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 255 it tend ever so remotely to follow, that there is not an- other act (and possibly one far more energetic and effi- cacious) directed to ' bonum honestum ?' In the case before us, I am plainly not studying merely for plea- sure ; for I see from my window that a game of cricket is proceeding, which would give me much greater en- joyment. I refrain from that pleasure, because I be- lieve study to be that employment, in which God at this moment prefers that I should engage. The objection, then, does not tend ever so remotely to overthrow that statement, against which it is directed. We admit most fully, that an act is elicited at this moment, wherein my will tends towards ' bonum delectabile ;' we only maintain in addition, that tlie existence of this pleasure gives my will the power, of eliciting simultaneously a far more energetic act than would otherwise be pos- sible, in the directio?i of'honwn honestum.^ Before proceeding to defend this allegation, one word maybe useful, (in order to avoid misconception,) on the concomitant act directed to ' bonum delectabile.' It by no means follows, nor is it by any means pro- bable, that this act is sinful ; though it is impossible fully to explain our meaning on this head, till we come to the theological treatment of ' actus humani.' Firstly, the ' bonum delectabile ' need not be its abso- lute end ; the pleasure itself may be directed, uncon- sciously indeed yet most really, to some further 'bonum honestum.' The act may be of this^ or some cognate, kind ; ' I choose the pleasure of study, as a means of ' serving God more cheerfully and more effectually.' Whenever I am deeply impressed with the thought of God, whenever the implicit remembrance of His pre- sence is acting powerfully on my will, it is probable that most acts of mine, which are directed immediately to pleasure, are directed absolutely to some such vir- tuous end ; a truth, which I hope to defend and illus- trate at sufficient length, in our theological course. But secondly, even though pleasure were the act's ab- solute end, the act need not be sinful; it might be simply indifferent. Nay lastly, and to take the most extreme 256 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. case, tlioiigli my act icere directed to pleasure with that degree of inordination wliicli constitutes veuial sin, — (you nuist allow me to use these expressions, though you cannot yet understand their meaning;) — still this evil might be most abundantly counterbalanced, by the simultaneous good which I obtain the power of effect- ing. To the consideration of this good then, let us next proceed. The immense advantage, gained for the practice of virtue through the pleasure which accompanies it, consists ordinarily in two principal particulars. First, the lessening of temptation. Under the head of Con- cupiscence, we shall treat in detail the effect pro- duced by temptation on the will : but it may here be assumed, as sufficiently obvious on the surface, that temptation acts upon the will like a heavy weight, drawing it in the wrong direction ; thwarting and im peding it, to an indefinite extent, in its struggles to- wards good. Everything which lessens temptation^ strengthens pro tanto the iviWs actual power to good at the moment. Now taking the particular instance we have chosen, and which is indeed a sample of number- less others, see how vastly temptation is diminished, by the pleasure wliicli accompanies the virtuous act. It is God's Preference, that at this moment I shall sit down and study; but how urgent and violent would be my temptation to engage rather in the game of cricket, if the study were simplif a dry, dreary, and disgusting occupation. And this temptation would increase in strength every instant ; until at length (and indeed before very long) it would reach that de- gree, which an ordinary man's will has not the moral power of resisting. The pleasurableness, which accom- panies virtuous practice, is often in fact a most impor- tant part of that grace given us by God, (part of what is called 'exterior grace,') enabling us to fight manfully against temptation, in His service and for His sake. Tlie second benefit, which we derive from the ac- companying pleasure, is connected with an important phenomenon of the human will. Except in the case of ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 257 men who are practised and disciplined in austere virtue, the will Jui.s not the moral power of tending for any length of time to ^honum honestum^ ivhile the sensitive appetite remains ivifJiout gratif cation. In a state of long- continued and simple ' tristitia,' its powers to good are withered and paralyzed. It is not at all too much to say, that if other phenomena of our nature remained as they are now% the consistent practice of virtue would be simply and absolutely impossible, — morally impos- sible in the strictest and completest sense of that word, — were it not for the various, and frequently keen pleasures, which our Holy and Merciful Creator has strewed in our path. Here we are able to see the force of a phrase, fi-e- quently used by St. Thomas and the Thomists ; ' delec- tationes propter operationes, non contra.' These plea- sures, so mercifully imparted by God, should be used for the purpose intended by Him ; for the purpose of more strenuously and virtuously performing those acts to wdiich they are annexed. On the other hand, if we engaged in these operations for the sake of the plea- sures, we should invert the order of nature. Suppose I sit down to study in a qnasi-gluttonoiis way ; simply seeking the pleasure of that intellectual treat which it affords, without considering at all whether God at this moment prefers it; — here is the quasi-sensuality of a highly intellectual man. 130. But there is another case of virtue being assisted by concomitant pleasure, which has so very special and distinct an importance of its own, as to require separate treatment. 1 refer to the case of what is commonly called sensible devotion; i.e. when the accompanying pleasure arises directly from a con- templation of those Objects, which should be the pole- stars of our Christian course. This pleasure, I need hardly say, reaches very different degrees in diflferent men ; or in the same men at different times. It ranges from that cheering consolation which is so often felt by an ordinary Christian, up to those high degrees of rapture and delight, which are the frequent heritage s 258 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. of Saints; such as made St. Francis Xavier exclaim, ' It is too much, O God, it is too much!' A false mystic, of whom you may have heard, named Molinos, has been condemned for the following proposition : — Qui clesiderat et amplectitur devotionem sen- sibilem, noii desiderat nee quserit Deum, sed seipsum. — Denz. p. 337, prop. 27. And this condemnation surely gives no slight sanction, on the Church's part, to the great importance of sensible devotion in the interior life. We are not of course denying, that there may be abuse of this ; spiritual writers are loud in saying that there may be, and tliat there often is. But it is an extremely trite remark, that a thing's abuse is no argument against its use; and our own present argument leads us rather to consider its inestimable service in the promotion of true piety. Observe then that sensible pleasure, i. e. emotion of an intense kind, unless we strenuously resist its ten- dency, penetrates the intellect with a most vivid appre- liension of its object. Now the objects which produce sensible devotion are such, that in proportion as the intellect contemplates them more keenly, the will elicits higher and nobler acts of virtue. Wliat are the kind of thoughts which constitute the very life of sensible devotion ? I suppose such as these : the wonderful and unwearied love of God, as contrasted with man's ingratitude and insensibility ; — the trea- sures of tenderness stored up in the Sacred Heart ; — the rapturous joys reserved for us in Heaven ; — and so with many others. As our emotions rise more highly from such thoughts as tliese, the tlioughts themselves take a far deeper and more powerful hold of the in- tellect, and thus lead to the highest and choicest acts of the will. In other words, the sensitive appetite acts on the w^ill, in the way of rendering its acts far more efficacious, througli the intermediate agency of the ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 259 intellect. This will be made still clearer, when we con- sider the relation between intellect and will ; mean- while I would earnestly recommend yon to study Father Faber's chapter on the subject, which makes part of his ' Growth in Holiness.'* 131. We have now gone through our preliminary enquiry ; we have sufficiently seen how perfectly con- ceivahlc it is, that the propensions may be of invaluable service to the cause of virtue. We now come to our direct and immediate statement, that they are so; inso- much that, of those various propensions which are the sole occasion of sin, there is not one which may not in its way imporfant/i/ ptwnofe the glory of God. It will of course be impossible for us to enumerate all the propensions ; but I am confident we shall be able to establish so large an induction, that no doubt will remain in your minds on the truth of what we affirm. Indeed if not sufficiently satisfied, you have but to task your ingenuity, — to tliink of any propension which I shall not have named, — and call on me to prove my point in regard to that propension. Bui first, of course, you must hear patiently to an end my own enumeration. I will begin with the propension of Diitij. It is a plain fact in human nature, that we derive plea- sure from the mere consciousness of doing what is * P. 422-4.51. The following passage particularly deserves attention. " [During periods of sensible devotion], all trains of thought which concern heavenly things display a copiousness and exuberance which they never had before. Meditations are fluent and abundant. The virtues no longer bring forth their actions in pain and travail, but with facility and abundance, and their offspring are rich, beautiful, and heroic. There are provinces of temptations always in discontented and smouldering rebellion. But [now] we have a power over them, which is new, and which is growing. We have such a facility in difficulties as almost to change the character of the spiritual life ; and a union of body and spirit, which is as great a revolution as agreement and peace in a diviiled household. All these blessings are the mutations of the Right Hand of the Most High. Even to beginners, God often vouchsafes to give them, not merely as sugar-plums to children, as some writers have strangely said, but to do a real work in theii- souls, and enable them to hold their way through the supernatural difficulties proper to their state. But proficients should ardently desire them, for they fatten prayer ; and the perfect can never do without them, as they can never cease augmenting their virtues and rendering t!;e exercise of them pleasant."— Pp. 428, 429. 260 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. rioJit. This is so uiidoubted, that many Protestants, who fully hold the intiiitiveness of moral truth, have introduced great error into their speculations, by con- fusing these two totally distinct facts : (1) our intui- tion of what is right; and (2) our pleasure in prac- tising it. Now it is remarkable that their opponents, those who deny altogether our intuition of moral truth, yet never deny the other fact ; viz. the pleasurable- ness of moral practice. They never deny, I mean, that we do derive a real gratification, from the simple belief that we are doing our duty. The strength however of tliis propension, appears to be very far greater on the negative than on the positive side. The misery of doing what we know to be evil^ is far keener and more poignant, than the pleasure of doing what we know to be good. It has sometimes happened, that even the most wicked men, having committed some extraordinary crime, have felt a remorse so bitter tliat life has been intolerable. In the case of all newly plunged in sin, the pain of remorse accompanies and sullies all those enjoyments which their sin may purchase. But much more, as men grow in goodness, does this propension increase in strength. To a Saint, the deliberate commission of one venial sin is anguish almost unsupportable. It needs no argument to shew how extremely im- portant is this propension in the cause of virtue. 132. The next pro})ension I will name, shall be that of ' Self-charity ;' the propension whereby we feel pleasure at the thought that our happiness is being pro- moted, and pain at the thought that it is being lessened. How far this is a strong and unintermitting propension, we shall consider in the next chapter ; but so far as it exists, its effect on all Theists must be simply and greatly good. Nay take even the exceptional instance of those who believe in 7io punishment after death — even on them this propension has one beneficial effect ; it will often cause vicious pleasure to be accom- panied with a pang, which arises from the remembrance, that their permanent happiness even on this earth suffers ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 261 from their wicked courses. But in all who believe a future state of retribution, it is plain that this pro- pension works constantly and uniformly on the side of man's hii>;hest oood. 133. 1 nuist now call your attention to an ex- tremely strong propension, or rather union of pro- pensions ; the treatment of which mil occupy some little time : we may call it the propension of ' Personal Love.' Following St. Thomas's language, we may sub- divide this into three propensions ; — ' Amor Concupis- centiae,' 'Amor Amicitia^,' and ' Amor Benevolentige :' though St. Thomas is speaking of them as virtues, and not as propensions. AVe shall find indeed, as we advance, that two of these three are more properly counted as the same ; but we wall begin by explaining the three, as St. Thomas understands them. First then for 'Amor Benevolentige.' It frequently happens, that I may hear anecdotes of some living man, or read his life, or in some other way come to a knowledge of his character ; — and I may feel my affections drawn to the subject of these anecdotes, in a w\ay quite unlike that, in which they are drawn to any one else. I may most fully recognise that others are as good men, or better ; but there is some quality in this man's goodness, which specially finds an echo in my own breast ; some inexplicable sympathy on my part towards him, wdiich it is quite hopeless to analyse. He for his part (we will suppose) knows nothing of me whatever ; nor has he so much as heard of my exist- ence. Still what singular pleasure I receive, in con- templating the success he meets with in his various undertakings ! How overjoyed I am to know^ of his well-doing ! What delight should I experience, in going through indefinite efibrt and privation, for the sake of promoting his interests ! Or again, suppose that (without knowing me personally) he expressed some wisli or lyreference^ as to the conduct to be pursued by his friends and well-wishers, — how keen would be my pleasure in conforming my conduct to the wishes 262 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. SO expressed ! The propension, which makes me sus- ceptible of these various pleasures, and of their oppo- site pains, may be called 'Amor Benevolentise.' But now put a further case. Let us suppose, that the object of my affections becomes acquainted with me. Let us suppose, that just as his peculiarities of character have attracted my aifections towards him with such singular warmth, — so he should become acquainted with corresponding peculiarities of mine, which draw him with equal tenderness towards myself. What then ensues ? My feeling of Amor Benevolentia? to him becomes at once indefinitely stronger; or in other words, the pleasure which I feel, in promoting his interests or conforming to his wishes, becomes in- definitely greater. Here is 'Amor AmiciticB ;' ' amatio et ?-edamatio : ' — that disinterested love for another, which is accompanied and intensified by the conscious- ness that I am loved in return. We can hardly find a more suitable instance of this feeling, than the rela- tions between a widowed mother and me her only child. Our characters were in no small degree similar; and her education of me has rendered that similitude closer and more exquisite. Consider, on the one hand, the keen appreciation with which I dwell on those many loveable points of her character, which speak so pecu- liarly to my feelings. Consider, on the other hand, my deep abiding consciousness, how tenderly she loves me ; how open to her is my whole character ; how fully she understands its various peculiarities. Is it not plain that all this will produce in me the liveliest and deepest emotions of disinterested attachment? With actual delight and joy would I go through a world of labour, if I could save that dear heart one single pang. At the same time, and as the necessary companion of tliis propension, I have another quite diflferent in kind, 'Amor Concupiscentiaj.' I delight in my know- ledge of her love; her praise is among my sweetest rewards ; that Ave shall exchange unrestrained con- fi^dcnces and grow in knowledge of each other, is ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATUliE TO VIKTUE. 263 among my happiest active employments ; to gaze on her sweet smile and lovinjr countenance, is like enterini>; into a tranquil and secure harbour from the storms of life. You will at once see, from what has been said, that ' Amor Amicitise' is but one species of 'Amor Benevolentia? ; ' wlvereas ' Amor Concupiscentia? ' is wholly different in character. 'Amor Benevolentias' and ' Amicitiai' derive their respective gratifications from precisely the same objects ; viz. the well-being and well-doing of the beloved person : whereas 'Amor Concupiscentiai' is satisfied by objects totally different from the former. Without as yet accurately defining our terms, we may say that ' Amor Benevolentiae' is a ' disinterested' propension ; ' Amor Concupiscentia}' an 'interested' one. What is meant by this? The plea- sures, Avhich I derive in virtue of my propension ' Amor Benevolentiae' or ' Aniicitia9,' result from the well-being of its object in himself; but those which I derive from ' Amor Concupiscentife,' result from his demeanour to- wards me. The knowledge that my friend is happy, or that his interests are being promoted, suffices in itself to cause all those delights which result from the former propension; whereas the latter propension derives its satisfaction from a knowdedge of my own position in that friend's fiivour and affection. Indeed the ' Amor Concupiscentiaj' often clashes more than a little with the 'Amor Benevolentiie:' I am far from feeling that pleasure which I otherwise should, in my friend's well- being or the promotion of his highest interests, because I long for more of his society or warmer manifestations of his regard. The following quotation from Billuart, St. Thomas's most approved commentator in his own school, may suffice to shew, that I have accurately stated the An- gelic Doctor's use of these expressions ; Avith only the qualification already mentioned, that he speaks of them as virtues, not as propensions. " Observanduni 1°. cum eruditissinio magistro nostro P. Henneguier, in suo opusculo De Absolutione Sacraincntali, du- 264 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. plicem attendi posse in nobis erga Deuni amorem : scilicet amorem concupiscentias, quo volumus Deum nobis honum Ejusque heati- tudinem nobis appetimus ; et amorem amicitia3, quo Deo honum Ejusque beatitudinem et perfectionem volumus. Hie iterum est duplex : unus secundum quid et inchoatus, alter simplex et abso- lutus. Priuuis dicitur benevolentire simplicis, alter benevolentiae amicabilis. Neque enim idem sunt, ut pkrique existimant, bene- volentia, et amicitia seu charitas : benevolentia est alterius prin- cipium seu efFectus ; nam ex eo quod alicui volumus bonum, dis[jonimur ut ipsum amemus et ad ipsum amicitiam habeamus ; inde etiam quod aliquem amemus et ad ipsum amicitiam ha- beamus, fit ut ipsi bonum velimus : unde S. Th. 2, 2, q. 27, art. 2, ad. 1, dicit quod cum philosophus definit amare, quod est velle alicui bonum, ' definiat amorem, non ponens totam rationem * ipsius, sed aliquid ad ejus rationem pertinens, in quo maxime * manifestatur dilectionis affectus.' " Est igitur hoc discrimen, secundum D. Th., inter bene- volentiam et amorem amicitire, quod benevolentia sit simplex actus voluntatis, quo volumus alicui bonum sine, redamatione ex parte ejus; ut dum videmus duos pugiles in certamine aliunde nobis ignotos, quorum unum vellemus vincere; est exemplum S. Thomas loco citato : amor autem seu amicitia addit benevo- lently redamationem, seu unionem affectuum ad invicem ; amicus enhn est amico amicus, ut fert commune adagium. Placet verba S. Doctoris referre loco citato in corpore articuli ; ubi inquirens utrum amare, prout est actus charitatis, (quam paulo ante de- finierat esse amicitiam, ut dicam modo), sit idem quod benevo- lentia, sic respondet ; ' Dicendum quod benevolentia propria ' dicitur actus voluntatis, quo alteri bonum volumus. Hie autem * voluntatis actus difFert ab actuali amore, tam secundum quod ' est in appetitu sensitivo, quam etiam secundum quod est in * appetitu intellectivo, quod est voluntas.' Turn paucis inter- jectus prosequitur : ' Amor (seu amicitia) importat quamdam ' imionem secundum affectum amantis ad amatum, in quantum " scilicet amans sestimat amatum quodam modo, ut unum sihi * vel ad se pertinens, et sic movetur in ipsum ; sed benevolentia * est sim})lex actus voluntatis, quo volumus alicui bonum, etiam * non prsesupposita prajdicta unione affectus ad ipsum. Sic ergo ' in dilectione secundum quod est actiis charitatis (hoc est ami- * citiffi, ut mox dicam), includitur aliqua benevolentia ; sed dilectio, * sive amor, addit unionem affectus ; et propter hoc philosophus ' dicit ibidem, quod benevolentia sit principium amicitia).' " Unde vulgo k theologis assignantur tres conditiones requi- sitsB ad amicitiam : prima, quod sit amor benevolentia), non con- cupiscentia; ; secunda, quod sit mutuus; tertia, quod fundetur in aliqua communicatione, sive bonorum, sive secretorum, &c. inter ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 2G5 amicos : sicque benevolentia ct amicitia convcniunt in prima con- ditione, differunt in secunda ettertia." — Billuakt, De I'ccn. diss. 4, art 7. par. 1. I may also add liowever the following references : 2, 2, q. 23, a. 1, 0; q. 27, a. 2, 0, ad finem. Some few Catliolic writers, Bossuet being one, main- tain tliat, according to St. Thomas, even in 'Amor Ami- citia' Ave are aiming at our own advantage: but the more suitable place for refuting this strange opinion, will be found under the head of the theological virtues in the subsequent part of our course. 134. This will be the proper opportunity for shew- ing (see n. 98.) how totally distinct is the passion ' Amor,' whether from 'Amor Benevolentia^' or ' Amor Concupiscentise ;' though I admit that St. Thomas seems in some sense to identify it with the latter. The jmssion 'Amor' is that emotion which I ex- perience, whenever the thought enters my mind of ani/ object which is to me at this moment a ' honum delec- tahilej On the other hand it is simply in virtue of my propensions^ that tliis object rather than tJiat^ is to me a ' bonum delectabile.' To say that the propensiou 'Amor Benevoleutiai' has been called out in me towards A. B. is simply to say in other words, that the well- being and weil-doing of A. B. is to me ordinarily a ' bonum inentaliter delectabile.' To say that the pro- pension 'Amor Concupiscentias' has been called out in me towards him, is to say that the possessioii of his favour and love is to me ordinarily a ' bonum mentaliter delectabile.' When I think indeed on either of these objects, I ordinarily experience the passion ' Amor ; ' but I experience it in no other sense, and in no other degree, than when I think of any other 'bonum delectabile' in the whole world. There is, I say, literally no more con- nection between the passion ' Amor' and the propension ' Amor Concupiscentige,' than between the said passion and the propension, 'Love of Praise,' ' Love of Acquisi- tion,' or any other which can possibly be named. And the same remark may be made, mutatis mu- tandis, on the modal affection ' Amor.' This is simply 266 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. that act of Will which, unless I make special resistance, infallibly accornpanies the passion ' Amor,' when I think of any ' bonum delectabile.' (See n. 100.) 135. Returning to the two propensions before us, we may call their union by the name ' Personal Love;' and it is plain at once, how great an assistance they give in many respects to the cause of virtue, even if lavished on human objects. They raise the heart above low and grovelling desires ; they open to the mind ideas of far higher and more exalted pleasures, than would other- wise be dreamt of; they tend to form the character in habits of generosity and disinterestedness. But are our fellow-men, specially our fellow-men in this visible world, objects at all adequate to this pro- pension, as God has implanted it in our hearts ? Surely, though we had no more than unaided reason to guide us, we never could think so. The following most beau- tiful passage may serve here to express my meaning. " The thought of God, and nothing sliort of it, is the hap- piness of man; for thongli there is much besides to serve as subject of knowledge, or motive for action, or instrument of excitement, yet the affections require a something more vast and more enduring than any tiling created. What is novel and sudden, excites, but does not influence ; what is pleasurable or useful, raises no awe ; self moves no reverence ; and mere know- ledge kindles no love. He alone is sufficient for the heart who made it. I do not say, of course, that nothing short of the Almighty Creator can awaken and answer to our love, reverence, and trust. Man can do this for man ; man doubtless is an object to rouse his brother's love, and repays it in his measure. Nay, it is a great duty, one of the two chief duties of religion, thus to be minded towards our neighbour. But I am not speak- ing here of what we can do, or ongld to do, but what it is our hajypiness to do; and surely it may be said, that though the love of the brethren, the love of all men, be one-half of our obedience, yet this love exercised by itself, were that possible, (which it is not) were no part of our reward. And for this reason, if for no other, that our hearts require something more permanent and uniform than man can be. We gain nmch for a time from fellowship with each other. It is a relief to us, as fresh air to the fainting, or meat and drink to the hungry, or a flood of tears to the heavy in mind. It is a soothing comfort to have those whom we may make our confidants; a comfort ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 267 to liave those to whom we may confess our faults; a comfort to have tliose to whom we may look for sympathy. Love of home and family in these and other ways is sufficient to make this life tolerable to the multitude of men, which otherwise it would not be; but still, after all, our affections exceed such exercise of them, and demand what is more stable. Do not all men die ? are they not taken from us ? are they not as uncertain as the grass of the field? We do not give our hearts to things inanimate, because these have no permanence in them. We do not place our affections in sun, moon, and stars, or this rich and fiur earth, because all things material come to nought, and vanish like day and night. Man, too, though he has an intelligence within him, yet in his best estate is altogether vanity. If our happiness consists in our affections being employed and recompensed, ' man that is born of a woman' cannot be our happiness ; for how can he stay another, who ' continueth not in one stav' himself? " But there is another reason why God alone is the happiness of our souls, to which I wish rather to direct attention. The con- templation of Him, and nothing but it, is able fully to open and relieve the mind, to unlock, occupy, and fix our affections. We may indeed love things created with great intenseness ; but such affection, when disjoined from the love of the Creator, is like a stream running in a narrow channel, impetuous, vehement, turbid. The heart runs out, as it were, only at one door ; it is not an ex- panding of the whole man. Created natures cannot open to us, or elicit, the ten thousand mental senses which belong to us, and through which we really live. None hut the presence of Our Maker can enter us ; for to none besides can the whole heart in all its thoughts and feelings he unlocked and suhjected. ' Behold,' he says, ' I stand at the door and knock ; if any man hear njy voice and open the door, I will come unto him, and will sup with him, and he with me.' ' My Father will love him, and We will come unto him, and make our abode with him.' ' God hath sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts.' ' God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things.' It is this feeling of simple and absolute confidence and communion, which soothes and satisfies those to whom it is vouchsafed. We know that even om- nearest friends enter into us but partially, and hold intercourse with us only at times ; whereas the consciousness of a perfect and endur- ing presence, and it alone, keeps the heart open. Withdraw the object on which it rests, and it will relapse again into its state of confinement and constraint; and in proportion as it is limited, either to certain seasons or to certain affections, the heart is straitened and distressed. If it be not over-bold to say it. He who is Infinite can alone be its measure ; He alone can answer to 268 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. the mysterious assemblage of feelings and thoughts which It has within it. ' There is no creature that is not manifest in His sight, but all things are naked and opened unto the eyes of Him with whom Ave have to do.'^^ — Newman's Parochial Sermons, vol. V. pp. 357-361. The fact wliicli we are considering, is one of such extreme importance in a great number of ways, that I must ask your indulgence for what might seem an impertinence. It might seem, I say, an impertinence, if I ventured to add anything of my own, when your memories are filled with that beautiful passage which I have just quoted; and yet it will serve (I hope) to give us a still firmer and deeper possession of the truth before us, if we consider in some detail those various particulars, which Father Newman has united in his most attractive picture. Let us consider then the warmest mutual affection, that can exist towards a visible human friend. And in order to fix our ideas by one instance, let us compare that affection, with the friendship which may be sustained, between the Sacred Humanity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, and a soul which gives itself generously to God. First consider devotion to the cause of that friend. Who could dare make it the chief wish of his life, to promote the cause or desires of any earthly friend? Who might even surrender himself for one moment u'ithout restraint to such a purpose? You see then that our devotion to any earthly friend (1) must be occasional^ and not pervasive of our whole life; while (2) it must be measured and not unreserved. Next, consider the foundation of the friendship, according to that theory on Personal Love which we have drawn out ; in other words, those particular quali- ties of lieart and character, which specially attract our love. In studying the mysteries of our Saviour's life on earth, or the various aspects under which His different offices towards us are represented by the Churcli, — one man is drawn specially to one class of such exhibitions, another to another. One man is singularly affected by His Infancy; another by His ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 269 Passion; a third by the Sacred Heart; a fourth by the Precious Bhiod. One Christian dwells with tenderest devotion on His acts, another on His words ; one is more affected by His compassionate love towards the worst sinners, another by His most tender familiarity with the beloved Apostle. And so we might indefi- nitely proceed. But we may safely assert that there is no one human being, among all the inexhaustible varieties of character, but will find more than one feature specially to win and attract him. It matters not to our argument loliat that special feature may be : for in all there is the same Divine Saviour ; in all there is a certain quality, unparalleled and unapproachable ; in all (I need not say, for to doubt it were blasphemy; in all) there is that, to which no development of our earthly friend's character can bear the most distant comparison. Thirdl}^, consider that important ingredient in friend- ship, mutual confidence and appreciation. With earthly friends I can exchange but half confidences ; to the most sympathetic and congenial friend I can open but a small part of myself, and should only be misunder- stood if I attempted more.* But the Soul of Christ views my whole character in all its lights and shades; * "And even with our fellowmen — are they adequate objects for our thoughts and aftections % Practically, it is a plain matter of fact, that they arc not. How are our affections and sympathies broken up and given away in fragments ! We do not trust our whole heart to our nearest friend. We give part of our confidence to one man, part to another ; we cannot give more, and should be stared at if we tried. When we wish really to sympathise with another's deep feelings, or to explain our own, how hope- lessly do we fall short ; and by what a chance does it seem to be that we succeed at all ! Those burnings of the heart which we occasionally experi- ence, on having sure signs that others do thoroughly feel what we do, or when a gi'eat system opens upon us, or when one whom we love performs a noble action, or when one whom we revere shews us unexpected affection, at once shew us the emptiness of our ordinary sympathies, and are earnests of something greater. Such passing emotions betray to us capacities for a state of habitual feeling, in which must be the highest happiness, and which we are as yet as unable and unworthy to feci as our friends are to excite. Is it conceivable that this union of high capability with actual unworthi- ness should be meant merely to point us forward to a future life ? Surely, rather it sanctions those present desires which it causes ; that blind craving after the supernatural, that worshipping of the unkno\\Ti God, of which the highest and the lowest minds give common witness," — British Critic, 1838, p. 217. 270 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. sees in every particular my difficulties, my sorrows, my temptations ; understands the cause of this peculiarity, which repels my dearest earthly friend; does justice to my conduct under that emergency, when my nearest intimates felt themselves bound to condemn me. You will object at once, that my faults also and imperfections are exposed with fearful openness to His piercing gaze. Ah! we do little justice to His loving tenderness, if we regard this as an objection. If there be but the real wish of doing right, if there be but a true desire of dealing generously with Him, it may be said in a most true sense that our miserable short-comings and infirmities are even incentives to his love. In our theological course this most touchino; truth will be handled at length. 'G' Fourthly, friendship with our Lord is a friendship, which, if I am but faithful to myself and to His grace, is sure, steadfast, and eternal. If my dearest friends in many things misunderstand me now, what constant danger there is lest, under some future contingency, they may far more grievously misunderstand me ! If St. Paul and St. Barnabas, among the most holy of God's servants, and endeared to each other by common labour in tlieir Redeemer's service — if these holy Apostles could cool and separate, what earthly friendship can be accounted secure? Here then is one mode in which earthly friendships may be dissolved; and another is the very condition of this life. My tastes may change, nay they are ever changing ; my friend's tastes change ; circumstances remove us from all active communication with each other ; till we meet again after a long interval, and find that our mutual sympathy is gone. But look at the opposite picture. Jesus Christ is ' tlie same yesterday, to-day, and for ever;' and for myself, as I advance in piety, I do but increase in sympathy with Him. Nay, as Father Newman most justly remarks, His very greatness keeps me back from that rude familiarity, which sometimes brings earthly friendships to a speedy end.* * " Fear is allayed by the love of Him, and our love sobered by our fear ON THE ADArTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 271 Fifthly, ill earthly friendships, as we have already remarked, the ' Amor Conciipiscentia)' is ever clashing with the 'Amor Benevoleuti^e : ' in heavenly friendships alone are they fully harmonious and complementary of each other. In proportion as I enjoy with greater zest that one pleasure, of working for my dearest i^ord and consulting His Preference in all things, — in that very proportion do I the more enjoy that othei^ pleasure, of basking in the sunshine of His presence, and rejoicing in the thought of His approbation and love. Then lastly, friendship presses towards union with the beloved object; almost, as it were, towards cor- poral union; as the very marks of friendship which we spontaneously exhibit, embracing and the like, suf- ficiently testify. But what other union of friendship can bear a moment's comparison, to that miraculous union which we enjoy with the Sacred Humanity, in the Sacrament of our Saviour's love, the pledge of His undying tenderness? So here are six points of contrast. First, the love to our Saviour is more pervasive and ungrudging; secondly, those qualities which are its foundation are more attractive ; thirdly, the mutual confidence is greater ; fourthly, the friendship is more pennanent and stable ; fifthly, in this friendship alone the ' Amor Benevolentise' and ' ConcupiscentiaB' are brought into harmony ; sixthly, the union is closer. In every one of these" particulars the superiority of Divine friendship is vast and incalculable. It may unthinkingly be urged, in objection to all of Him. Thus He draws us on with encouraging voice amid the terrors of His threateuings. As in the young ruler's case, He loves us, yet speaks harshly to us, that we may learn to cherish mixed feelings towards Him. He hides himself from us, and yet calls us on, that we may hear His voice as Samuel did, and believing, approach Him with trembling. This may seem strange to those who do not study the Scriptures, and to those who do not know what it is earnestly to seek after God. But in proportion as the state of mind is strange, so is there in it, therefore, untold and surpass- ing pleasure to those who partake it. The bitter and the sweet, strangely tempered, thus leave upon the mind the lasting taste of Divine truth, ;ind satisfy it ; not so harsh as to be loathed ; nor of that insipid sweetness which attends enthusiastic feelings, and is wearisome when it becomes familiar." — Par. Serm. vol. i. p. 350. 272 nilLOSOPHICAL inteoduction. this, that frieudship requires for its perfection a certain exclusweiiess ; and that He who loves all mankind with such exuberant tenderness, can be no sufficient object for this propension. A moment's thought gives the reply. In human friendship exclusiveness is neces- sary, simply because the will, the intellect, the affec- tions of men are in themselves so limited and confined : we have not enough of our friend's thoughts, if his friendship be shared with multitudes. In Divine friend- ship this holds not in the slightest degree. So the Protestant poet answers this very objection: — " Thou art as much His care, as though beside Nor man nor angel Uved in heaven or earth ; Thus sunbeams shed alike their glorious tide, To light up worlds or wake an insect's mirth : They shine and shine in unexhausted store ; Thou art thy Saviour's darling, ask no more." The sun, ^Ir. Keble implies, puts forth its ivhole influence towards enlivening a poor Avorm, just as though there were no gorgeous palaces, or majestic scenes of natural beauty, to receive its gladdening light. And so the Sun of Justice sheds His whole rays on me, a miserable worm of the earth, as fully, as absolutely, as thougli there were no mortified priests or holy ascetics, who look to His light as their very life. That human soul of His, as w^e shall see when we study the Incarnation treatise, is occupied, at every instant, as simply, as intently, in reading my heart and consider- ing my thoughts, as though there were no other object to engage it. The objection then is not merely an- swered ; it is actually retorted. One chief prerogative of Divine Love as compared with human, is the con- stant thought and consideration which we receive from the Beloved Object. Another objection may be ingeniously raised, against part at least of the above argument. Who would ven- ture, I asked, to throw liimself unreservedly and per- vasively into any human friendship? 'Certainly,' re- plies the objector, "'no good man could do so; but ' might not a bad man ? And why may not he so far ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUK NATURE TO VIRTUE. 273 * obtain the very same pleasure, wliicli tlie pious man ' gains by his friendship with our Lord?' Now there have been from time to time various men, with hearts far removed from God, who Jiave more or less at- tempted thus to make idols of their fellow -men : and what has been the result ? The very attempt shews weakness of character, as all would admit; that love, which can be a sfronir-minded man's one object, must be a divine and not a human love. But look at this weak-minded idolater of a fellow-man, and see what is the course of his history. He is in constant alterna- tions, flux and reflux, of rapture and despondency. To-day he has found the very idol, for which he has so long been seeking in vain; he is in transports of delight. Next week he finds that his idol is but an ordinary man, and he falls into an agony of disappoint- ment. These men, in fact, more signally than any others, illustrate the truth which I am putting before you ; they display every imaginable symptom, of lavish- ing a strong propension on objects utterly and con- temptilily unalDle to afford it gratification. We now proceed to further illustrations of our principle. My love for my Redeemer viewed in His human nature, leads me (in proportion to its growth) to a constantly increasing love for the Triune God ; for God contemplated in His own Original and Infinite Nature.* Here is indeed an adequate object for my keen afiections. Again, the love of Mary is an ever fresh and in- exhaustible well of joy and delight. Love to her in- deed, such as we find it in the greatest Saints, is that very reality, of which the highest (perhaps) and purest among human afi^ections, — a child's love to his mother — is but the faint and inadequate type. Then again, from among the Saints I choose this or that one in particular ; not from believing him to be the holiest in that blessed assemblage, but because his is that particular exhibition of sanctity, to which (from * " Ut dum visibiliter Deum cognoscimus per huuc in invisibilium ainoi'em rapiamurl'^ 274 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. some occult sympathy) I am instinctively drawn. It is not merely one indeed, but a certain small number, towards whom for this reason I cherish a special and tender devotion. Lastly, love for my Guardian Angel has something in it which reminds me of human friendship; for this loved being stands to me in a relation which he holds to no other creature, and loves me therefore with a certain exclusiveness of affection. And thus we see, in strong corroboration of our general thesis, a very important fact, as to those who are called by the Holy Spirit to the noble vocation, of steadily and systematically renouncing all particular attachments on earth. These men, we see, are in no sense called upon to subdue this propension of Personal love, but the very contrary. Their love is directed with all the more intensity and delight to its lef^ifimate Objects; who belong indeed to the Invisible World, but whom the eye of faith so keenly and lovingly discerns. 136. The next propension which deserves our notice, is General Love of our fellow-men, as distinct from Personal: and this again exists under the same two divisions, ' Benevolentise,' and ' Concupiscentiae.' I say we have a certain love to our fellow-men as such : this propension may be thwarted by various causes ; such as a sense of injury received, or some special antipathy; but where such disturbing influences are absent, the propension shews itself unmistakeably. Man, as is so constantly remarked, is a social animal. We seek the society of our fellow-men as such, by a tendency quite distinct from that, which leads us to seek the society of our personal friends. And when we are in this general society, we feel a certain genial cordiality as our normal attitude of mind. In other words (1) we experience a certain feeling of general goodwill to our companions; — 'Amor Benevolentia3 :' and (2) we take for granted, and have jileasure in tlie thought, that they respojid to that feeling; — 'Amor Concupis- centiae.' * That ' Amor Concupiscentiae ' nideed towards * " Maukind are by nature so closely united, there is such a correspond- ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUll NATURE TO VIRTUE. 275 our fellow-men is 7iegatively a most strong propension, is manifest from tins. I suppose no man could live (unless supported by most singular supplies of grace) under tlie im})ression that all his fellow-men regarded liim as a monster of depravity. And this misery would evidently be totally distinct from any fear for liis per- sonal safety ; it would arise simply from believing himself an object of universal detestation. This propension, even in its rudimental state, is of manifest advantage to the cause of virtue ; in that it directs our thoughts, from purely selfish ends, to the promotion of the common good. In holy men it assumes far greater prominence ; and develops into that intense feeling of brotherly love, so characteristic of the saintly character. The holy missionary or parish priest is no doubt cliiefly animated by personal love for his Creator and Saviour ; yet no slight support is afforded him in his holy enterprises, by this burning love of the brethren. A remark has often been made, sometimes indeed by the enemies of Christianity as a reproach to it, but it seems certainly just: it is this. The tendency on the whole of growth in sanctity is, that our personal love ence between the inward sensations of one man and those of another, that disgrace is as much avoided as bodily pain, and to be the object of esteem and love is as much desired as any external goods : and in many i)articular cases, persons are carried on to do good to others, as the end their aftcction tends to and rests in ; and manifest that tliey find real satisfaction and enjoyment in this course of behaviour. There is such a natural principle of attraction in man towards man, that having trod the same tract of land, having breathed in the same climate, barely having been born in the same artificial district or division, becomes the occasion of contracting acquaint- ances and familiarities many years after : for anything may serve the pur- pose. Thus relations merely nominal are sought and invented, not by governors, but by tlie lowest of the people ; which are found sufficient to hold mankind together in little fraternities and copartnerships : weak ties indeed, and that may afibrd fund enough for ridicule, if they are absurdly considered as the real principles of that union : but they are in truth merely the occasions, as anything may be of anything, upon which our nature carries us on according to its own 'previous bent and bias ; which occasions therefore would be nothing at all, were there not this prior disposition and bias of nature. Men are so much one body, that in a peculiar manner they feel for each other, shame, sudden danger, resentment, honour, prosperity, clistress ; one or another, or all of these ; from the social nature in general, from benevolence, upon the occasion of natural relation, acquaintance, protection, dependence ; each of these being distinct cements of society." — Butler's Sermons. 276 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. shall more and more be taken from our visible com- panions here below, and fixed on tlie Invisible World. I am far from meaning by this, that all men, or more than a comparatively small portion, are called hy God to a state in wliicli particular earthly friendships are to cease. But I do think it true, that, as vre advance towards perfection, such friendships become less absorbing and less engrossing ; we grow more and more towards regarding our friend, as in some way a special repre- sentative to us of our brethren in general. 137. The next propension to be noticed is 'Miseri- cordia' — Compassion. In addition to this Greneral Love of our fellow-men wliicli we have just considered — a propension which, in its rudimental state, and on its positive side, must be regarded as somewhat faint — in addition to this General Love (I say) we have a propen- sion, far keener, far more irrepressible, far more power- fully influential, which draws us to the relief of misery as such. We meet a fellow-man whom we never before saw ; and experience (it may be) some calm emotion of general benevolence. Let him unfold a tale of bitter distress, and give us ample means for knowing its truth, far different is our emotion. The most hard-hearted men can only save themselves from this pain, by reso- lutely shutting their ears to the melancholy story; it is not in human nature, that we shall know our brother's griefs, and not grieve ourselves.* * " Of these two, delight in the prosperity of others, and comiDassion for their distresses, the last is felt much more generally than the former. Though men do not universally rejoice with all whom they see rejoice, yet, accidental obstacles removed, they naturally compassionate all, in some degree, whom they see in distress ; so far as they have any real perception or sense of that distress : insomuch that words expressing this latter, pity, compassion, frequently occur ; whereas we have scarce any single one, by which the former is distinctly expressed. Congratulation, indeed, answers condolence : but both these words are intended to signify certain forms of civility, rather than any inward sensation or feeling. This diflerencc or inequality is so remarkable, that we plainly consider compassion as itself an original distinct particular affection in human nature ; whereas to rejoice in the good of others, is only a consequence of the general affection of love and goodwill to them. The reason and account of which matter is this : when a man has obtained any particular advantage or felicity, his end is gained ; and ho does not in that particular want the assistance of another : there was therefore no need of a distinct affection towards that felicity of another already obtained ; neither would such affection directly carry him ON THE ADAI'TATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 277 Now it is quite unnecessary to remark in detail, on the powerful assistance given by this propension to the cause of virtue, and its powerful tendency against sel- fishness and indolent sensuality. It is more pertinent, to point out the singular suitableness of this propension in a world like ours. In a world where sorrow is so general, what plain mark of benevolent design is seen in the fact, that God has given us a propension which tends so powerfully to alleviate sorrow ! One of you has here interposed a very ingenious objection ; let me state and answer it. ' God created us ' in a perfectly happy state; excluding all possibility ' (except through sin) of pain or grief. Hence,' argues the objector, 'a Catholic philosopher is precluded from ' such a line of argument as the above ; he is precluded ' from supposing, that God created our natvire with ' ex2:>ress reference to the circumstance of our being ' encompassed with grief.' I reply as follows. Catholic doctrine teaches, as you will see in due time, that Adam was preserved in his state of happiness, not by any peculiarity of his nature, but by a series of constant and watchful operations exercised hy God upon that nature. Two alternatives were put before him ; and for that very reason, his nature was so created as to suit either alternative, and inclusively therefore the less happy one. Since, on that alternative, misery was to abound, — it was suitable that our nature should include this special propension of Mercy or Compassion. More will be said in this very Section, on the relation between Adam's orisfinal state and our fallen condition. It is a fact by no means to be forgotten, and which no one to be sure could antecedently have imagined, that under the Gospel God Himself becomes an Object on to do good to that person : whereas men in distress loant assistance ; and compassion leads us directly to assist them. The object of the former is the present fehcity of another ; the object of the latter is the present misery of another. It is easy to see that the latter wants a particular affection for its relief, and that the former does not want one, because it does not want assistance. And upon supposition of a distinct affection in both cases, the one must rest in the exercise of itself, having nothing further to gain ; the other does not rest in itself, but cai-ries us on to assist the distressed." — Butler's " Sermon on Compassion." 278 niiLOsoPHicAL introduction. to tliis propension. In contenipla.tiiig our Blessed Lord's sufFerings, and particularly the various stages of His Passion, the feeling of Compassion occupies a very prominent place. 138. The last propension of this class vrhicli I sliall mention, is ' Gratitude;' the peculiar pleasure we derive, from requiting in kind any fovours we liave received. A mere allusion will suffice, on so plain a matter, (1) to the great assistance derived from this propension to various acts of social virtue; and (2) to the great degree in wliicli it cheers and consoles all work done for His sake, ' Who, being rich, /or our sake became poor.' 139. We have now recited six propensions ; (1) Duty; (2) Self-charity; (3) Personal Love; (4) General Love; (5) Compassion; (6) Gratitude: and we have seen the immense assistance which they give us in living for Almighty God. Our general thesis, you remember, is this ; that all our propensions without ex- ception are calculated, each in its own way, to give us help and support in that holy enterprise. As yet certainly we have done very little to demonstrate that thesis. ' No one ever doubted,' an objector may reply, ' that ' many of our propensions lead towards good; the only ' question worth considering is, whether there are not ' others which with equal force lead towards evil. On * this, the only important question, nothing has yet been ' said.' I reply, by fully admitting the force of the objection. My object hitherto has chiefly been, to put before you a map (as it were) of these essentially bene- ficial propensions, and of the place which they occupy in the interior life ; thus shewing the careful provision made by our Creator, for giving us rest and joy in His service. My object, I say, as yet has been this rather than any very strong controversial argument in behalf of our thesis. Our next step however will advance us considerably in the way of ]iroof. For I proceed to ask, K^Jiat are those propensions, which on the whole are most widely and (lec})ly influential — liave put forth tlie most })ermanent and sustained power — in leading men away from God. I will shew you that tJiose ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 279 very propensions are capable of rendering most impor- tant assistance towards His love and service. You will at first perhaps answer, that the propension of the flesh (as I may call it), — the propension which tempts VIS to violate the Sixth Commandment, — is the most pervasive and powerful enemy to virtue. I do not think that would be a true answer ; for fearful as have been the effects produced by that propension, it cannot from its very nature have that constant^ unre- lenting^ pervasive poicer^ which is exercised by certain other propensions. We will not of course leave it unnoticed ; but, on the contrary, we will consider it in its due place, with a care proportioned to its importance. But first we will direct our attention to those propen- sions, which often become the main-spring of a man's ivhole conduct of life; which often colour the ichole tissue of his existence. Of this kind, spiritual writers prominently mention three : (1) Love of Honour or Fame; (2) Love of Power; (3) Love of Wealth. I commence then with the Love of Honour. 140. This propension certainly acts, with a con- stancy and intensity which perfectly amazes one, in leadino; men to direct their conduct towards an end quite distinct from their Creator's service. It is often remarked, how miserably impurity clouds the intellect ; but this propension clouds it immeasurably more. Men will tell you, as of quite an honourable fact, that they look on infamy as the greatest of evils, and that the approbation of their fellow-creatures is their one para- mount end of action. Well do I remember a veteran Protestant politician, writing a letter to the newspapers, which professed quite a tone of conscious and indignant virtue. It ran in substance thus : ' True, I am an ' old man ; I must soon leave this visible scene ; but ^ for that very reason, it is a more sacred duty that I ' leave my reputation intact.' He was a man who firmly believed in the doctrine of a future state ; and he was ( I take for granted) fully confident, of being pretty sure after death to be admitted into Heaven and the com- pany of Saints and Angels. And yet, for that very reason 280 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. forsootli, it was the more liis sacred duty, to leave his reputation intact on this sinful and miserable earth. It is just as though a crawling worm were on the point of being raised by God to the dignity and privilege of a rational creature ; and were to say, 'for that very reason it is the more a sacred duty, to j^reserve my reputation among my fellow crawlers unsullied and intact.' But the same motive animates all classes and all professions. So a soldier will go through deeds of faliulous daring, and (which is more strange) will undergo sufferings of most fearful severity, — sustained throughout by one sweet hope, that of his fellow-countrymen's applause. Or, (going to an extremely opposite instance) a philosopher will give his whole energy to the working out of some grand intellectual system, in the hope of one principal reward— posthumous fame. It is related, I believe, of that profound thinker Kant, that he was quite thrown off his balance with anxietv and distress, when some danger appeared, lest he should lose with posterity his fair claim to originality of discovery. A more monstrous, more frantic, antagonism to God, than this idolatry of human honour, cannot well be imagined. He placed us men on earth, that we might make His Will and Preference the ruling principle of our lives. We, the creatures of His hand, give hardly so much as a passing thought through the day to that Will and Preference. So far as we are slaves to this pro- pension, our main motive of action is avowedly, profes- sedly, the approbation of our fellow-worms, our fellow- sinners. The whole world is seated in wickedness ; and yet we do not blush to make the applause of that world the incefitive to our whole conduct. The extensiveness of this idolatry, is as amazing as its intensiti/. It ex- tends from such cases as the great soldier or illustrious philosopher, through all intermediate ranks, down to the very school-boy ; who is ashamed to express his own sense of what is due to God, — not from fear of being molested by his fellow-boys, for tlie same thing takes place where there is no danger of molestation ; — no; but from simple alarm at the thought of their sneers^ their deri- ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 281 .Hon. And long after we have ceased to be scliool-boys, how often have we felt (some of course more, others less,) that before tlie sneer and derision of our fellow- men, we become almost ashamed of our strongest prin- ciples, almost distrustful of our highest aspirations. Even men aiming at perfection, during the lower stages of their growth at least, are infested Ijy this deadly foe ; which forces itself as it were into companionship with their best ends, and sullies with its foul presence many of their highest actions.* * On some of the more ordinary and petty manifestations of this vice, how accurate is Sarin's description ; and how amusing if it were not so sad ! " Le second efFet de la vauite est I'amour et le desir des louanges. Quand un hommc est occupe de hii-meme, et que ses propres perfections sout I'entreticn ordinaire de son esprit, il desire que ses perfections soient connues et louees. La complaisance qu'il a en lui-meme ne manque point de produire ce desir ; et quand on le loue, U se repatt de cettefumee. L' appro- bation du monde, rapplaudissemcnt, Ics louanges, sont pour lui un breuvage delicieux, qui I'euivre de I'amour de lui-meme. II est toujours aupres a ecumer les jugemens qu'on fait de lui, et quand il a fait quelque action ixiblique, quand il a compose quelque pi^ce, il est toujours en ardeur de savoir ce qu'on en dit. Si Ton n'en parle pas avantageusement, il en sent une vive douleur, qui vient de sa vanite. Si Ton en juge favorablement, il se fera dire et redire sans cesse ce qui flatte, pour se repattre de ce vent. II se blame, pour s'attirer de louanges, afin qvJen le contredisant, on lui verre plus abondamment de oette liqueur qu^il boit avec tant de plaisir dans la coupe de la vanite. " Mais quand deux esprits vains se rencontrent ensemble, et se met- tent d se louer a Venvi, c'est alors que vous voyez la vanite dans son triomphe. Ecoutez deux poetes qui se loueut : ils se placent I'un aupres de I'autre dans le temple de memoire ; ils se donnent de I'encens a pleines mains, et se traitent comme des dieux. S'ils louent leurs heros, ils en font des divinites. " C'est la coutume de flatter ainsi les grands par des louanges excessives pour leur coraplaire ; car rien ne touche plus les esprits foibles des gens du monde que les louanges. Les femmes sont ravies d'etre louees de beaute ; les courtesans de politessc, et de galanterie ; les guerriers, de bravoure ; les ministres d'etat, de grand genie. On leur represente la posterite occupee a les admirer. Tons ces vains discours vont a leur persuader, que ce souvenir avantageux qu'on aura d'eux, est la phis douce chose qxCil y ait au monde. Et cela, n'est-ce pas une vanite deplorable ? Pendant que les hommes les loueront sur la terre, ils seront peut-etre dans les fiammes eternelles. ' Laudantur ubi non sunt, torquentur ubi sunt.' (S. August.) L' amour propre les enchaute teilement, qu'encore qu'ils soient malheureux en eux- memes, ils se font un plaisir imaginaire des louanges qu'on leur promet apres leur mort. " Quels eflforts ne fait-on pas pour avoir place dans I'histoire ? On sent une agreable satisfaction de voir son nom dans une Gazette. C'est un plaisir bien mince qui tournera peut-etre a votrc confusion : mais enfiu cela contente ; et en meme temps qu'il contente, il fait d'etranges ravages dans rame : il eloigne de la verite ; il bannit Vhumilite chretienne. Aussi ceux qui marchent dans la lumiere de la vraie sagesse, fuient cela cmnme le poison qxiifait mourir toutes le virtus^ — Didogues Spirituels, vol. 2, pp. 3-5. 282 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. Yet consider well this very remarkable fact. We have seen that this propension, as usually directed, more than almost any other is God's deadly foe. We may now add, that in that very degree it is among the most unmistakable illustrations of our general principle. We are maintaining, that all our propensions have an important place in the cause of virtue : and that, in regard to most of them, our work here below is, not to aim at lessening their force in the very slightest degree ; but singly and exclusively to aim at fixing them on their proper objects. In the present case, is there not an Object ready at hand, which is as manifestly, as un- deniably, adequate to the intense strength of this pro- pension, as its ordinary objects are grotesquely i/zade- quate? Our Creator is more closely present to us, than we are to each other ; the Soul of our most loving Saviour penetrates every hidden corner of our hearts; Mary sees in God all that most closely concerns us; Our Guardian Angel, the Blessed Saints, all know in various degrees what we do, and what we think. How can we, who have the approbation of the whole Court of Heaven as a prize to contend for, so demean our- selves, as to open our hearts mainly to the vain, transi- tory, delusive, praise of our fellow-men? Here we see an ascetical truth of some little im- portance. If I am at this moment fluttering with vain glory ; my emotions highly enflamed ; my very body throbbing, as it were, under the magnetic influence of human applause ; I am not called to aim at lessening that emotion. No : let me contemplate, with the eye of faith, my Creator, my Redeemer, my Heavenly Mother, the whole blessed Company of Angels and Saints, looking down on me, and prepared to approve or cen- sure me as my condvict may deserve. In that vision of faith I am wrapped securely. That very propension, which was the devil's chief engine of attack, becomes the Holy Ghost's most powerful weapon in putting Him to flight. This contrast is from time to time expressed in the New Testament. Thus John, c. xii. v. 43. " Dilexerunt " enim gloriam homi^ium magis quam gloriam Dei ,•'' ON TIIK ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 283 and Romans, c. ii. v. 29, " Sed qui in abscondito, " Judseiis est : circunicisio cordis in spiritu, non littera ; ''''cvjus laus nnn ex liominibus, ,sed e.v Deo est^ You will not of coarse suppose me to deny for a moment, that the approl^ation of good men in all ordi- nary cases is to be greatly prized ; and specially in this point of view, as the pledge and representative to us of God's approbation. In this, as on so many other matters, it Avill appertain to our later course to complete what our earlier begins. When we come to consider the morality of human acts, we shall be led to some definite and important results, on the principles of judgment here to be adopted ; on the principles whereby we may distinguish, that idolatry of human applause which is so dangerous and detestable, from that love of good men's approbation, which is in itself perfectly legitimate, and in its results inestimably valuable. 141. The next propensiou to be treated is Love of Power. This does not seem comparable to the former, either in intensity or pervasiveness ; indeed it is but a comparatively small portion of mankind, who are in a position to gratify it at all in the more ordinary sense. It is quite plain however, that every man who is in a position to gratify it by influencing others to his own private ends, may equally gratify it by influencing them towards public ends and towards their Ci^eators sej^vice. The propension before us is gratified, in proportion as we know that we are able to move at will a laro;e number of our fellow-men : it is plain then that the gratification is precisely the same, whether that power be exerted in this or in that direction. He who fulfils his duty, by using the full influence of his station or circumstances to the promotion of God's Glory, is in no slight degree assisted and cheered in that holy work, by the propension which we are considering. Certainly there is great need of watchfulness, lest this gratification be tainted with pride ; still in itself it is undeniably legitimate. But a further remark is still more in point. The Gospel assures us, of wdiat reason alone would render 284 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. very probable, the great efficacy of intercessory prayer. And it is most important that we should perform this duty, not in a dry perfunctory way, but with a keen and lively interest. Now such keen and lively interest must necessarily arise, in proportion as we have a practical and living persuasion, that our prayer will as really and truly promote God's Glory, tend to the salvation of souls, affect the course of events, redress ecclesiastical evils, move the whole fortunes of the Church, as the most lively and energetic work can possibly do. It is plain then how very desirable it is, that we cherish in ourselves this practical and living persuasion ; and it is no less plain, that we are indefinitely assisted in doing so, by the keen pleasure whicli the propension before us experiences from that persuasion. This I take to be the primary and truly legitimate scope of this propension; — the stimulating us to inter- cessory prayer. 142. T\\Qve YQ\i\?a\\Q([ Love of Mo7iey. This however must be decomposed into two separate elements. Money is chiefly sought as a mere ' bonum utile ;' as serviceable towards further ends. There is an inde- finitely large number of pleasurable or serviceable things, of which I have learnt by experience that they are purchaseable by money. The desire of all these things inflows virtually (see n. Ill) into those various acts of mine, whereby I desire money ; and (to come more immediately to our present subject) the thought of money is made pleasurable, by the combined and confused thought of these various pleasures. This it is no doubt, which chiefly causes the intensity and universality of money-hunting : it is a sort of com- pound propension, uniting the force and strength of so many simple ones. This is the sense in which love of riches is de- nounced by our Lord in terms of such astounding severity. It is most important, that we should preserve a clear and constant memory of these denunciations ; and I will therefore say some little to remind you of them. At the same time you must understand, that I ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 285 have neither leisure nor (indeed) ability to do them anything like justice. Three different Evangelists have recorded our Lord's saying, that it is easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of Heaven (Matt. c. xix. v. 24. Mark, c. x. v. 25. Luke, c. xviii. v. 25) ; and all three record that He proceeded to declare, ' with man it is impossible, but with God all things are possible.' A rich man's salva- tion tests (if we so express ourselves) the Omnipotence of Grod. Again (Luke, c. vi. v. 24, 25), ' Verumtamen ' va3 vobis divitibus, (|uia habetis consolationem vestram. ' Vse vobis qui saturati estis, quia esurietis. Y^e vobis ' qui ridetis nunc, quia lugebitis et flebitis.' Observe also, as has been frequently remarked, in the parable of Dives and Lazarus, how closely con- nected with eternal perdition is the mere possession of wealth. Nothing more is said of Dives, than that he was clothed in purple and fine linen, and feasted splendidly every day (Luke, xvi. v. 19). Then as the natural result of this we are told (v. 22) that after his death he was buried in Hell. In all such passages, our Blessed Saviour is speak- ing (no doubt) of riches in their natural tendency. He who is abundantly supplied with all the necessaries and many superfluities of life; — who seems to be so circumstanced, that tlie slightest wish or whim can be readily gratified ; — what is the state of mind into which such a man will naturally fall? He will become, unless he makes very special resistance, proud, self- satisfied, luxurious ; above all, and characteristically, he will look on this world as his home. There can hardly be a character more deeply hateful in the eyes of God. Consider in this connection, Apoc. c. iii. V. 17, 18, ' Quia dicis : Quod dives sum, et locu- ' pletatus, et nuUius egeo ; et nescis quia tu cs miser, et ' miserabilis, et pauper, et cascus, et nudus; Suadeo ' tibi emere a me aurum ignitum probatum, ut locuples ' fias, et vestimentis albis induaris, et non appareat 286 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. ' confiisio nuditatis tuae; et collyrio iuunge ociilos tuos, ' ut videas.' On the other liand, a poor man feels at every step his utter and abject dependence ; and having little solace in this world, he is the rather disposed to seek such solace in the things of God. Of course the rich man may contend against his special temptations, and the poor man may throw away his special advantages ; but the tendency of the two conditions respectively is as above stated. Elsewhere indeed our Lord explains His words. He explains them, as applying not so much to the wealthy or poor person, as to what may be called the wealthy or poor sjyirit. Thus in St. Mark, immediately before his statement on the camel's eye, he explains what he means by the rich man ; viz. one who trusts in riches (c. x. v. 24): ' Discipuli autem obstupes- ' cebant in verbis ejus. At Jesus rursus respondens ' ait illis ; ^ Filioli, quam difficile est, conjidentes in ' pecuniis in regnum Dei introire.' Again, whereas in Luke, c. vi. v. 20, Lie says, ' Blessed are ye poor ;' in Matt. c. v. ver. 3, it is, ' Blessed are the poor in spirit: And whereas in Luke, c. vi. v. 21, He says, * Blessed are ye who now hunger,' in Matt. c. v. V. 6, it is ' Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after justice:' those, e.g. Avho, from the very fact of being ^ without comfort and rest here, are led to seek them in the service of God. On the whole however, we cannot surely, in any fairness, draw from these awful statements a milder conclusion than the following. If there be any rich man, who is not sensitively alive to the special tempta- tions of his state; — who does not carefully examine how far he is exposed to them; — who does not (if he be so exposed) carry out carefully some special discipline in regard to those temptations;— such a man has reason to be in most serious alarm, as to his attaining final perseverance. Even though he be in HabituarGrace now^ he has reason for the most anxious doubts, whether ON THE ADAl'TATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 287 this will continue to the last. To this subject we shall have more than once to recur. There is another form taken by this compound propension, love of money : it not only leads tliose who have money in abundance, to be proud and worldly ; it leads those who have it not^ to seek it in a restless, feverish, absorbing, spirit. Against this also Our Blessed Lord directs his strons-est warning-s. Thus Matt. c. V. ver. 25, 26. ' Ideo dico vobis, ne solliciti * sitis animse vestras quid manducetis, nee corpori vestro ' quid induamini. Nonne anima plus est quam esca? ' et corpus plus quam vestimentum ? Respicite vo- ' latilia coeli, &c.' And the same thought is pursued for several further verses to the end of the chapter. Again, Matt. c. xiii. v. 22 : ' Qui autem seminatus est ' in spinis, hie est, qui verbum audit, et sollicitudo ' sa3culi istius, et fallacia divitiarum, sufFocat verbum, * et sine fructu efficitur.' This exercise of the propension before us, — the laborious and unrestrained workiiig for wealth, — pro- duces in the spiritual life effects, not less disastrous perhaps than the former, but plainly of quite a different kind. The restless occupation, the breathless anxiety, the feverish excitement, all these present as broad a contrast as can well be imagined, to that tranquil, recollected, interior, spirit, which is the atmosphere wherein alone prayer and meditation can breathe. The great majority of mankind undoubtedly are, from cir- cumstances, obliged to labour in weariness and uncer- tainty for their daily bread. What is that kind of spiritual discipline, whereby they may best be pre- served from these terrible spiritual dangers — this is one of the most important, and perhaps one of the most difficult, questions, on which Ascetic Theology has to treat. As one of my chief objects in this Section, is to give the best map I can of our various propensions, it was of course out of the question that I should omit one, so vitally important in its bearing on spirituality as this compound propension. It is equally plain however, 288 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. that it cannot come witliin the scope of our immediate argument; not being an orifrinal propension at all. So far as we have yet treated it, it is not a propension which God has implanted in our nature, but one which we form for ourselves, by our mode of exercising those wdiich He has implanted. Our thesis only calls on us to prove, that all those which He has implanted are capable of most virtuous use ; and as this is not one of their number, it is not included in the statement. In proportion as we shall have exercised our origiiial pro- pensions according to God's wish and desire, this com- pound and derived propension w^U not have been called into existence. It is commonly held however by psychologians, and I think with truth, that the desire of money is not wholly analyzed, by ascribing it to the desire of those various gratifications which money can purchase. It is held that there is a propension, implanted by God in our nature, wdiich we may call ' love of acquisition ; ' that we are susceptible of a special pleasure, from hoarding and accumulating what we can call our own ; from guarding and adding to a store of property. In- deed this seems clear in the extreme case of a miser; since he loses his relish for those enjoyments which money can procure, in his idolatry of money itself. What then is the legitimate use of this propension ? Our Saviour Himself seems to tell us (Matthew, c. vi. V. 19), 'Nolite thesaurizare vobis thesauros in ' terra, ubi serugo, et tinea demolitur, et ubi fures ' eftbdiunt et furantur ; thesaurizate autem vobis the- ' sauros in ccelo; ubi neque aerugo neque tinea de- ' molitur,' &c. Even apart from Revelation, Reason would shew that there are many things which are more specially ours than money can ever be; wdiich may more truly be called property; which will more ade- quately satisfy our love of accunnilation : virtuous habits, a contented disposition, a disengaged heart — these are treasures indeed. First, they are intrinsic to ourselves, and cannot by physical possibility be snatched from our grasp ; and secondly, when once gained, they ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATUEE TO VIRTUE. 289 are not diminished but increased, in proportion as we draw upon our store. There is a pleasure, which is un- doubtedly attainable, by hoarding and accumulating; — here a little and there a little; — so much to-day and so much more to-morrow; — by watching for every op]:)or- tunity, and taking sedulous advantage of it, which may be made the means of further accumulation. But I maintain that this pleasure can be far more satisfac- torily enjoyed, in the gradual acquirement and increase of virtuous habits^ than of perishable gold. And now let us consider, in addition to this, what the Gospel discloses, as to these spiritual and heavenly treasures. Let us ponder on that great Gift of Habitual Grace, which is increased by every supernatural act we do. Let us carry on our thoughts to those future treasures in Heaven, spoken of by Our Blessed Saviour ; those treasures, whereof Habitual Grace is the seed and the measure. Such thoughts will soon make clear to us, what is the full and adequate object of the propension before us. 143. I said that the chief obstacles to piety enume- rated by ascetical writers are, ( 1 ) Love of Honour or Fame; (2) Love of Power; (3) Love of Wealth; and these three propensions we have now considered. Per- haps indeed there is a fourth, which both is, and is com- monly admitted to be, an equally (or a more) powerful antagonist: I mean Pride. What is that propension whereof pride is the perversion., and what is its legiti- mate scope, I will consider somewhat later in the pre- sent Section. That which I will next treat, shall be Love of Knowledge; or (as it may perhaps be more suit- abl}" called) Love of Litellectual Exertion: a propension, which exercises its full power indeed over extremely few ; but almost makes up, by its violence and intensity, for the narrowness of its operations. Nothing, e.g. is more commonly remarked, than the very close and (as it were) natural connexion, between great mathematical power and extreme infidelity. How is such a fact to be explained ? There are few questions in Ethical u 290 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. Psycliology more important tlian tliis ; and I incline to think the true explanation is as follows. There is a certain small number of men, endued with singularly high intellectual gifts, on whom various choice intellectual processes confer a degree of plea- sure, resembling that which ordinary men derive from sensual indulgences. I mean such processes as these ; viewing a large field of truth in its mutual relations ; pressing judgments to their various consequences ; analyzing the more recondite phenomena of the mind, &c. &c. These induls-ences however differ from sen- sual, in this most important particular ; viz. that they are capable of very protracted and sustained continuance. The sensualist obtains but transient and fitful excite- ments; and in the interval feels languor, perhaps re- morse. But these intellectualists may give themselves up for an indefinite period to their darling pursuit. If then they choose to do this in a reckless inordinate way, simply for the sake of the jDleasure thence to be derived, and with no reference to moral duty or the will of God, what is the result ? They become more thoroughly obdurate — more thoroughly insensible to higher and more spiritual motives — than perhaps any class of men which can be named. The principle, on which this result takes place, will be considered in our work ' De Actibus Humanis.' Next ensues a further result — diabolical pride. The intellect is an instrument of tremendous power. ' Instrument ' is exactly the proper word to express my meaning: the intellect is an instrumenf, just as any mechanical power is one. It is as simply absurd, to make the quality of a man's intellect in itself the matter either of praise or blame, as to praise or blame a steam-engine : the f7me matter for praise and blame, is the use which he makes of this powerful in- strument; whether in God's service or the Devil's. But I say, the power of this instrument is enormous; immensely greater than unintellectual men can even imagine. Consider then, liow great must be the in- ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 291 toxication of wielding a power of tliis kind, in the case of such men as I suppose ; in the case of men, who do not so much as attempt any practices of religion, — • meditation, or examen of conscience, or the like, — and who are free from severe bodily sickness or other temporal trouble. They know by experience the wonderful influence of intellectual power ; and they look up to tliemselves intensely for possessing it. Here again is another distinction, which separates these men for the worse from the class of sensualists. No sen- sualist can respect himself, — look up to himself, — on the ground of his bestial excesses ; whereas pride is the ordinary, nay the necessary accompaniment of great intellectual power, whenever the humbling exercises of piety are neglected. Here then are two qualities which naturally ensue : (1) insensibility to all spiritual motives; and (2) pride. How easily do these two united lead to unbelief. The pride of these men would be most painfully wounded, by the manifest contradiction involved, in believing one thing, when they practise another ; while of course their indisposition to practise religion is the greatest imaginable. This being so, how ob\dous that they should have recourse to a most easy and simple alter- native! They ponder on the various objections (in themselves surely most plausible) which may be brought, not so much against Christianity in par- ticular, as against Theism in general. At the same time, they give no careful thought at all to those replies which have been made by Christian writers; contenting themselves with the conclusion, that the whole thing is buried in hopeless uncertainty. Here is one obvious cause of their unbelief ; an- other will be found in the following consideration. The mysteries of the Gospel, nay the doctrines of Na- tural Religion, appear, to their blind, carnal, grovelling, and proud intellect, quite low and contemptible ; such as it is impossible to believe, without doing violence to their whole nature. ' A fit story,' they think, ' for the ' cradle and the nursery ; for the earliest years of each 292 PHiLOsoriiicAL introduction. ' individual, or the earliest years of the human race: ' man has outgrown these puerilities.' Indeed all, who are conscious of great intellectual power, and who have any kind of interest in their own perfection, — must be most painfully aware by expe- rience, how troublesome and anxious an element is such intellectual power in their mental composition. It may be made no doubt an invaluable servant : but it is ever trying to rise into the position oi master; and on no account must this be permitted. If then this propension be not comparable, as to the extensiveness of its evil effects, with those which w^e considered immediately before — with Love of Honour, of Power, of Money — almost in the same proportion it exceeds these propensions in the iyitensity of its mis- chief; in the utter ruinousness of those effects which it produces, on men who unreservedly surrender them- selves to its influence. It makes a perfect wreck of their spiritual character : it degrades them to the very lowest moral level possible on earth ; to that state of mind, known in Theology as 'obduratio' and 'excsecatio.' If then it can be shewn, that even this propension is capable of important service to morality, — certainly no inconsiderable addition will have been made to the progress of our argument. Now those frightful results of this propension which we have been considering, are seen only in those, who give themselves up to it almost exclusively. They are commonly but little gifted with the propension either of Personal or of General Love ; and they allow this Love of Intellectual Exertion to override despotically all the rest. There may be an exception to this statement, (not however affecting our argument,) so far as it is true, that various persons of great intellectual power have from time to time yielded themselves slaves to a low sensuality. But at all events, in the hardened men we are considering, all the higher propensions except the one before us are dormant; and the Love of Intellectual Exertion reigns paramount and supreme. It is obvious then to enquire, what are the effects of this propension, on ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 293 those who gratify it, — not in this reckless, inordinate, overbearing way, — but with due moderation, and merely as one part of their moral nature. In regard to those who must support themselves by the labour of their hands, hardly any answer can be given to this enquiry ; the main current of their life is such, as to disable them altogether from gratifying this propension, except in the most partial and occa- sional manner. The main case to be considered then, is that of the leisured classes; and I do not think it too much to say, that if this propension were away, and no other change wrought in human nature, the immense majority of these classes would find the consistent practice of virtue morally impossible. In behalf of this conclusion I argue thus. How many men are there, so created by God, that they can keep up through the day a constant course of Divine contemplation ? Just so many, as have a voca- tion to the purely contemplative life ; i. e. an extremely small minority. Now let us turn our thoughts again to the labour- ing classes ; and I will use this word in its widest sense, so as to include all whose day is spent, either in manual labour, or in otlier active and practical work of a busy and external kind. How are these men able to serve God, — through the day, through the month, through the year, — consistently and perseveringly ? For our answer let me refer to n. 129 (p. 257). They may aim at referring their various acts virtually and most really to God ; and the quiet tranquil gratification, which their Creator has ordinarily attached to the orderly performance of their regular duties, will cheer and sustain them in their course. If this gratificatiou were away, there would be ordi- narily (I suppose) no sufficient moral power, of refer- ring the course of their lives really to God. I ask then, what substitute for this gratification is available to the leisured, classes ? Take away this one propension which we are considering, I believe that no other can be named. The propension of Personal Love, as directed to one or more of our fellow-creatures, is 294 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. certainly very far fi'om being one wliich can be called into active exertion throngh the day ; the very attempt to do so, does l)nt land us in deep misery, unreality, and false sentimentality. Will you propose aesthetic employments — music, drawing, and the like? I believe the number is but small in the leisured classes, who could derive enjoyment from making such occupa- tions as these the business of their lives ; most charm- ing and refreshing though they be as recreations^ and as affording a grateful vicissitude to severer studies. Accordino; to God's merciful desio;n however, the whole field of science and literature is open to these classes ; each one may cultivate that, which best suits his taste, his circumstances, his powers, or the degree of his intellectual acquirements ; and most beneficial is the result. That very peculiarity of the propension, which constitutes (as we have seen) its chief evil, — I mean its singular power of receiving long-continued and 'protracted gratification — this very peculiarity confers a most important service in the way we have described.* * Father Newman had the same truth in view, I suppose, when he wrote the following most powerfully expressed passage. He has not, indeed, made it sufficiently clear, whether he is speaking of mankind in general or excliisively of the leisured classes. If the former, I venture to think its wording is open to great exception ; for it would (on that interpretation) seem to state, that few Christians of uncultivated intellect have the moral power of avoiding mortal sin : though of course he could not possibly have meant this. If we take it as applying to the leisured classes alone, it conveys, I think, an important truth. " Now on opening the subject, we see at once a momentous benefit which the philosopher is likely to confer on the pastors of the Church. It is obvious that the first step which they have to effect in the conversion of man and the renovation of his nature, is its rescixe from that fearful subjec- tion to sense which is its ordinary state. To be able to break through the meshes of that thraldom, and to disentangle and to disengage its ten thousand holds upon the h(^rt, is to bring it, I might almost say, half-way to Heaven. Here, even divine grace, to speak of things according to their appearances, is ordinarily baffled, and retires, without expedient or resource, before this giant fascination. Religion seems too high and unearthly to be able to exert a continued influence upon us : its effort to rouse the soul, and the soul's effort to co-ojicrate, are too violent to last. It is like holding out the arm at full length, or supporting some great weight, which we manage to do for a time, but soon arc exhausted and succumb. Nothing can act beyond its own nature ; when then we are called to what is supernatural, though those extraordinary aids from lieaven are given us, with which obedience becomes possible, yot even with them it is of transcendant diffi- culty. We are drawn down to earth every moment with the ease and certainty of a natural gravitation, and it is only by sudden impulses and ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 295 Here is the first benefit, and surely an inappreciable one, conferred by the propension before us : it gives (as it wei'e) forcible plunges that wc attempt to mount upwards. Religion indeed enlightens, terrifies, subdues ; it gives faith, it inflicts remorse, it inspires resolutions, it draws tears, it inflames devotion, but only for the occasion. The sinful spirit repents, and protests it will never sin again, and for a while is piotected by disgust and abhorrence from the malice of its foe. But that foe knows too well, that such seasons of repentance are wont to have their end : he patiently waits, till nature faints with the effort of resistance, and lies passive and hopeless under the next access of temptation. What we need then is some expedient or instrument, which at least will obstruct and stave off" the approach of our spiritual enemy, and which is sufficiently congenial and level with our nature to maintain as firm a hold upon us as the inducements of sensual gratification. It will be our wisdom to employ nature against itself. Thus sorrow, sickness, and care are provi- dential antagonists to our inward disorders ; they come upon us as years pass on, and generally produce their effects on us, in proportion as we are subjected to their influence. These, however, are God's instruments, not ours ; we need a similar remedy, which we can make our own, the object of some legitimate faculty, or the aim of some natm-al affection, which is cap- able of resting on the mind, and taking up its familiar lodging with it, and engrossing it, and which thus becomes a match for the besetting poicer of sensuality, and a sort of homoeopathic medicine for the disease. Here then I think is the important aid which intellectual cultivation furnishes to us in rescuing the victims of passion and self-will. It does not supply religious motives ; it is not the cause or proper antecedent of anything supernatural ; it is not meritorious of heavenly aid or reward ; but it does a work, at least materially good (as theologians speak), whatever be its real and formal character. It expels the excitements of sense by the introduction of those of the intellect. " This then is the prima facie advantage of the pursuit of knowledge ; it is the drawing the mind off" from things which will harm it to subjects which are worthy a rational being ; and, though it does not raise it above nature, nor has any tendency to make us pleasing to our Maker, yet is it nothing to substitute w^hat is in itself harmless for what is, to say the least, inexpressibly dangerous ? is it a little thing to exchange a circle of ideas which are certainly sinful, for others which are certainly not so 1 You will say, perhaps, in the words of the Apostle, 'Knowledge puffeth up : ' and doubtless this mental cultivation, even when it is successful for the piu'pose for which I am applying it, may be from the first nothing more than the substitution of pride for sensuality. I grant it. I think I shall have some- thing to say on this point presently ; but this is not a necessary result, it is but an incidental evil, a danger which may be realised, or may be averted, whereas we may in most cases predicate guilt, and guilt of a heinous kind, where the mind is suffered to run wild and indulge its thoughts without training or law of any kind ; and surely to turn away a soul from mortal sin, is a good and a gain so far, whatever comes of it. And, therefore, if a friend in need is twice a friend, I conceive that intellectual employments, though they do no more than occupy the mind with objects naturally noble or innocent, have a special claim upon our consideration and gratitude." — Newman on University Education, pp. 295 to 298. It may be objected perhaps that, in certain states of society, the leisured classes may not have the means of intellectual cultivation. Such cases however, if they exist, are in the highest degree exceptional ; and God no doubt gives exceptional grace to meet them. 296 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. the leisured classes tlie moral power of consistently obeying God. But tlie great majority, alas ! whether of the leisured or any other class, do not choose to aim at consistent obedience. Let us consider then, secondly, the benefit conferred by this propension, even on this indevout majority. As things are now, the leisured class are the greatest benefactors of mankind; they apply their energies, in fifty different ways, to the in- vestigation of principles and truths, from which spring the greatest advantages to society. But let the propen- sion before us cease, what would this class become? they would sink into the selfish and sensual recipients of bodily enjoyment. Now plainly this latter state, as compared with the former, is a most formidable barrier to the efficacious entrance of Divine Grace. The for- mer state is not a state of pie{i/, or a state which leads to salvation; — very far from it: but it surely opposes indefinitely less obstacles than the latter, to the Holy Ghost's pressing solicitations. A third benefit of this propension, and not yielding in importance to any, is the assistance which it has given in forming the Church's Theology; — Dogmatical, Moral, Ascetical, and the rest. I must reserve, to its proper place in the second Book, the task of putting iDefore you the great importance of Theology ; an im- portance, which it is diflficult indeed to exaggerate, and of which every additional opportunity for experience and reflection will but increase your sense. But con- sider the great labour and self-denial through which this work has been accomplished; consider the great pain often involved, in those processes of abstraction, generalization, observation, comparison, which are the necessary conditions of success ; consider the many hours of painful perplexity and anxious hesitation ; consider the ])ressure of bad health, and sacrifice of more easily oljtained enjoyments. What could possibly have sup- ported a body of thinkers througli this exhausting la])our, except tlie gratification afforded by the pro- pension before us? This or that man, saintly in attain- ment, may have been able so to labour, for the pure ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 297 love of God and performance of duty ; but what large succession of men could have been found so to act? 144. In closing our consideration of this propen- sion, we close that of our whole second class ; for we have treated those which (with one exception*) have of all the greatest strength in drawing the soul from God. Our thesis will next be corroborated, and even more strongly, by moving onward to a further class; to those propensions, which at first sight seem of all the most inevitably and exclusively evil in their result. Of these we may specially single out three; Anger, Envy, Pride : the two first would seem to have no scope, except injury to our fellow-creatures ; nor the third, except rebelhon against our Creator. If these three propensions have legitimate gratifications, a for- tiori (it may be inferred) must all others have such. The instance of Anger is so important, that we must treat it at some little length ; the other two will be far more briefly dispatched. f That Anger is not necessarily evil, is plain enough from Scripture. Thus St. Paul (Eph.iv. 26) quoting from the Psalms, says, ' Irascimini, et nolite peccare ;' while nevertheless in verse 31 he adds, ' Omnis . . . ira . . . 'tollatur a vobis:' implying evidently that there is a lawful and an unlawful anger. And our blessed Lord Himself is represented as vouchsafing to experience the emotion of anger (Mark, iii. 5): ' circumspiciens eos ''cum ird, contristatus super caecitate cordis eorum:' He experienced the emotion of hoh/ rese7itment^ at their base hypocrisy, their deep, malicious, blind, bigotry. So again (John, ii, 14-17) He drove the money- changers and others from the Temple ; shewing such marks of visible resentment, that the Apostles remem- bered that Scripture, 'Zelus domus tuie comedit me:' * I mean that of Pride ; which we are very soon to consider. t The whole treatment of ' Anger,' which follows in the text, is taken from Butler's ' sermon on Piesentment ;' which I am often inclined to think both the most origiiaal and the most valuable of all his writings. It should be read in connection with his ' sermon on Forgiveness of Injuries.' 298 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. as if they paraphrased it ; ' zeal for the honour of Thy ' House, and consequent resentment at its contumelious * treatment, have devoured me.'* We shall see indeed, as we proceed, that this pro- pension is simply identical with ' Love of Justice.' It is simply identical, I say, with a desire, that goodness as such may be rewarded^ and that wickedness as such may he punished ; and with a resulting pleasure when that consummation takes place. What I have to say upon it will therefore be divided into two parts. First, I will explain to the best of my power the ex- tremely important purposes, which this propension, ' Love of Justice,' subserves ; and secondly, I will shew you that it is the very same propension, which, in its irregular manifestations, has wrought such extensive misery, under the shape of Anger or Malevolence. First then for the former of these two subjects. The Love of Justice is so intimately associated with our whole life, that it requires the greatest effort of abstraction, to imagine how strange would be the scene presented here below without it. Consider the great majority of mankind. These men follow simply the impulse of their various propensions, as they are suc- cessively awakened; like a ship, left, without rudder, to the movement of each successive gale. They are simpW passive in the matter ; they take no consistent pains whatever, to follow that one definite course which Reason prescribes. These men however, as things are, are led by this propension to sympathize ivith virtue as such, and abhor vice. Their idea, indeed, of what con- stitutes moral virtue, is vague and indefinite enough; so deplorably low is the cultivation of their Moral Faculty : * " Surely, unless we had this account given us by an inspired writer, wc should not have believed it! Influenced by notions of our own devising, we should have said, this zealous action of our Lord was quite inconsistent with His merciful, meek, and (what may be called) His majestic and serene temper of mind. To put aside form, to dispense with the ministry of His attendant angels, to act before Tie had spoken Hia displeasure, to use His own hand, to hurry to and fro, to be a servant in the work of purification, surely this must have arisen from a fire of indig- nation at witnessing His Father's House insulted, which we sinners cannot understand." — N'ewmaiis Parochial Sermons, vol. iii. p. 198. ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 299 still it is something. They admire, even though they do not practise, generosity, self-devotion, probity, and the like; they will do something to reward such qualities; they will do a great deal to punish their opposites. What would be the world's aspect, if this propension were suddenly removed ? The most active imagination cannot follow this supposition into all its various conse- quences; I will take only one instance. We have seen how completely the great mass of men are ruled by the Love of Honour. Now suppose Love of Justice were absent, society would dispense its favour and appro- bation, Avithout any reference to virtue at all. Popular applause would be bestowed on men, without any reference at all to their merit ; simply in proportion to the degree in which (by whatever low arts and deAaces) they should be able to curry favour (as we say) with their fellows. No degree of heroic devotion to their country's cause, or self-denying generosity and bene- volence, would have even a tendency to obtain for men the admiration of mankind. And consequently, that enormous mass of men, who are powerfully swayed by this desire of being greatly admired, w^ould simply pursue such low arts and devices as are alone available for their purpose. You see at once — faintly indeed as compared w^ith the truth, yet very clearly, — the total wreck which must ensue. This propension then is one of the very links which hold society together ; take it away, society collapses. In the case of POod men, nothing; like this could of course ensue ; because they proceed on principle and reason, not by mere inclination. Yet in their case too, the evil inflicted by loss of this propension would be very considerable. As an introductory sample of what I mean, conceive a meditation on the Passion, in which Our Blessed Lord's Innocence should have no effect of its own in intensifying our emotions ! As things are, we dwell on His spotless Purity; and our indignation is excited against those cruel and pitiless men, who could see it unmoved, and continue their unrelenting afllictious. But suppose the propension before us were eradicated, 300 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. then we simply love these most wicked men as Gnd^s creatures and as Christ's redeemed: this is the whole account of our feeling in regard to them. You see, it is as though our moral nature were lopped of an integral part ; as though it went on three legs instead of four. Or take another instance. Consider the im- mense advantage to our spiritual growth, which arises from viewing our sins, one after another, with loathing and bitter indignation, as outrages against our Holy Creator. Such emotions of indignation could not exist, if this propension were withdrawn from our nature. Then I ask further — what is it which is the ani- mating principle of holy men, missionaries, ]3arish- priests, nay laymen, in their zealous and sustained endeavours for the perfection of themselves and others ? Will you say Love ? I reply — Love, in proportion to its higher excellence, is a plant of far slower growth : in the earlier stages of our course, it is rather this pious zeal which is our help and encouragement. What image does S. Ignatius put before us, when he would start us on our course with energy and ardour? The feeling of military ardour : he puts before us ' the two Standards ; ' and calls on us to fight bravely, under Jesus as our Captain, against the embodied hosts of His enemies. Now what is the motive of military ardour? Partly no doubt, it is the desire of honour and fame ; and so far it does not fall under our present consider- ation. But in no less a degree military ardour is made up of t]iis propension. Love of Justice : each man identi- fies his own course with that of right, and this inspiring thought gives animation to every blow. So in the case before us. What are the feelings called up in our mind, by that glorious meditation on the Standards ? Partly no doubt, that we are fighting under the very eyes of the Heavenly Host, and are receiving our due meed of praise : but fully as nuicli also, that otJier feeling, that we are engaged on the side of Eternal Truth ; and that every blow we give tells against tlie forces of evil. Whether we are assailing evil within or without, — fighting against a corrupt self or a corrupt world, — in ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 301 either case tJiis it is wliicli gives spirit to our exertions, that it is evil against wliich we are privileged to fight. We see then how vastly our practical work is aided by this propension. But if we would really understand the place occupied by it in our moral nature, let us ask, what would be the feeling of Christian Charity^ if Love of Justice were away ? in other words, what effect would be produced on our character by that other propension of General Bene- volence, Christianly directed, if Love of Justice were not also present to qualify and direct it ? Our feeling would be simply that of love to sin7iej's, ^dthout any zeal at all against sin; without any emotion of hatred against their principles. Our pleasure would be fully as great, in rescuing the greatest criminal from the justly de- served punishment of his offences, as in defending the most saintly Christian from the unjust oppression of an unfeeling persecutor. Now it is plain, without adding another word, that to act in accordance with such a feeling as this, would simply be to turn the whole moral world upside-down. He who should aim, in his social dealings, simply at increasing the pleasure and lessening the pain of his fellow -men ; — he who should do this, I say, without any reference whatever to their com- parative deserts^ without any sustained attempt at pro- moting virtue and discountenancing \\ce ; — this man would act simply as God's open enemy. It is no exaggeration then at all, but the simple truth, to say that that very propension. General Love, which might seem of all the most undeniably and in- evitably beneficial in its character, would be simply and grievously injurious to the cause of virtue, unless this other propension, Love of Justice, were found in its company. Take either of these most powerful pro- pensions separately^ they lead us to evil. If Love of Justice had full sway in our social dealings, isolated from the General Love for mankind, — it would lead us to every species of harshness, violence, inconsiderateness, uncharitableness, pride ; it would lead us to feel, as though we were to be the pitiless judges of oiu' fellow- 302 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. men. On the other hand, if Love for mankind carried us away, without our being acted on equally by Love of Justice, — our social career would be that of traitors to Our Creator and recreants to His cause. Either one then, taken by itself, would be simply evil in its effects, and lead us from virtue : but taken in harmony, just as God has implanted them, they lead us precisely in the true direction; they give precisely that one legitimate and desirable impulse, or rather series of impulses, to our whole dealings with mankind, which God desires at our hands. Such was the picture exhibited, as those tell us who have studied Church History, by the great ancient champions of the faith, S. Athanasius, or S. Leo, or S. Augustine. These great Saints, we are told, com- bined qualities which might appear on the surface irre- concileable : they experienced most keenly the emotion of holy resentment^ in regard to heretics considered as God's enemies ; while they felt the most lively tender- ness for them one by one, as the creatures of God and the redeemed of Christ.* Enough then has been said (though very much more might be added) to vindicate the first of those two propositions with which we started ; viz. that this propension, Love of Justice, is of inappreciable import- ance as part of our moral nature. The other propo- sition was, that it is this very propension, and no other, which, in its perverted state, becomes personal malice — pubHc faction — in fact enmity and hatred, whether * " that ttere was in us this high temper of mingled austerity and love ! Barely do we conceive of severity by itself, and of kindness by itself; but who unites them? We think we cannot be kind, without ceasing to be severe. Who is it that walks through the world, wounding according to the rule of zeal, and scattering balm freely in the fulness of love ; smiting as a duty, and healing as a in-ivilepc ; loving most when he seems sternest, and embracing those most tenderly whom in semblance he treats roughly % What a stfte we arc in, when any one who speaks the plain threats of our Lord and His Apostles against sinners, or ventures to defend the anathemas of His Church, is thought unfeeling rather than merciful ; when they who separate from the irreligious world are blamed as fanciful and extravagant ; and those who confess the truth, as it is in Jesus, are said to be bitter, hot of head, and intemperate !" — Newman's Sermons, vol. iii. pj). 204, 205. ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUK NATURE TO VIRTUE. 303 on a large or a small scale. By far tlie greater part of all the misery wliich man 'aggressively' inflicts on his fellow-men, is due to nothing else than the perversion and degeneracy of this one propension. I say the misery which he ' aggressively' inflicts; and I beg your particular attention to the sense of this word 'aggres- sive.' When I speak then of the misery which man 'aggressively' inflicts, I mean the misery which he inflicts as being misery; ybr the sake o/" inflicting it; for the jyleasure which is thence produced. There is a fearful mass of evil, /zow-aggressively inflicted by man on man; inflicted, that is, whether consciously or un- consciously, in pursuit of some end altogether different. Thus parents, who give themselves to brutal intem- perance, inflict on their children indefinite evil ; bad example, neglect of their education, and many others : indeed almost all wickedness causes a vast amount of social mischief. But I am speaking here, of that misery which is inflicted on others, as being; misery ; for the sake of that wretched gratification, which results from the infliction of evil as such. Part even of this no doubt may be put down to the account of Envy^ which is next to be considered; but I maintain that far the greater part arises from the propension before us. In other words, the gratification which men derive from the sufferings of their fellow-men, simply as such, is far most commonly a gratification (of course a most detestable and perverted gratification) of this propen- sion. Love of Justice. That we may see this more clearly, let us begin by imagining a particular case. You will grant of course, that, almost universally, those men who are not really pious and interior, think far more highly of their own claims than truth will warrant. The same principle further applies to their children, their friends, their country ; for all these objects tliey entertain a far higher value than simple reason can justify. Suppose now I receive some severity of treatment, which is in accordance with tlie strictest justice. It is far most probable that I shall regard it as grossly injurious. Here 304 PHILOSOnilCAL INTRODUCTION. then the propension before us is at once called into play. Suppose I am one of those, who on the whole act simply according to their propensions, and not on principle ; I proceed immediately, in accordance with this particular propension, to retaliate on the aggressor for his supposed injury. Now if when we receive j/w5# treatment we consider ourselves aggrieved, what will be our thoughts on receiving unjust treatment ? The attacked party then, being unjustly assailed by me, thinks more seriously of the injury he has now re- ceived, then / did of my original ground of complaint. And so here you see at once a very remarkable scene opening before us ; blow and counter-blow, action and reaction, increasing without limit in the way of violence and intensity. But this is only a small part of the case. My relations and friends see the whole thing on my side ; his on his side. And similarly, on a greater scale, when countries contend ; England, e. g. and France. Englishmen look on it almost as a matter of plain undeniable common sense, that England is in the right ; and can't in any way be got to imagine that the case even admits of another interpretation. Frenchmen are equally obstinate and equally one-sided. However extensive then is the class of phenomena to which we are referring — the phenomena of mutual hatred and aggressive injury, — • here is plainly a broad principle, which will account for the whole. And a proof that this is a true account, — that Anger (as distinct from Envy) always implies a notion of injustice done, — may be derived from this fact. Shew me that the injury which I received was not in any way intentional; — e.g. that the other party was intend- ing to do something totally different., and by accident hurt me ; or that he was out of his right mind at the time ; or the like : — what ensues ? I may be unwilling to believe that it was unintentional ; this is very com- mon : — but let me once believe it to be so, and yet retain my resentment., 1 should be looked on by all mankind as simply beside myself. It is true indeed, ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 305 that I may greatly resent what is caused by mere carelessness; but this (as Butler well observ^es) is because 1 consider observance as my due, and regard carelessness towards me as i?i itself faulty and injurious. It is true again, that I may be angry with those who are not free agents; as children or brutes: but this (as any angry man may observe by looking back on his past consciousness) is because, in the blindness of my rage, I was under the practical impression that the object of my wrath was free and responsible. If I can only be brought carefully to consider and ponder on the fact that he is irresponsible, my anger begins to subside as a matter of course. Look then over the whole expanse (and it is a very wide one) of human hatred and malice ; — put aside those comparatively few cases, which are explained by Envy; — and Avhat do we find? There is not one single instance, in which hatred and malice are not connected with a feeling of moral disapprobation : we regard those whom we hate, as in this or that respect faulty, and therefore we hate them. We consider them as faulty, for having injured us; or for having injured those whom we love; or for sympathizing with those who have so acted ; or we regard them as in some other respect wilful offenders. Man is not capable of any feeling towards his fellow-man, simply as such, except that of Benevolence. Hatred, I say, cannot be felt against our fellow-men simply as such ; but either as objects of Envy (which is another matter) or else as in this or that way blameworthy. Take even the ex- treme case of the misanthrope, and what is its true analysis ? He regards all mankind as conspiring and banded together for his injury, and therefore he hates them. One of you has objected, that men ai'e sometimes driven into shocking cruelties, from the motive of fear ; as in the case of certain slave-owners. But this objection proceeds on a misconception of my whole statement. An injury, inflicted from the motive of fear, is not an ''aggressive' injury; it is not done for the X 306 PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION. pleasure of inflicting evil, but for the negative pleasure of myself escaping such infliction. It is true indeed, that in such a state of thins-s real hatred and malice often arise : but it will be found that this very fact confirms our theory. In order to justify to myself those cruelties which I inflict, — in order to persuade myself that they are due to some higher motive than mere pusillanimity and terror,^ — ^I resolve with blind obstinacy to believe, that those objects of my dread are possessed with monstrous and enormous faults. Then, by dwelling on these imaginary faults, I rise into a sentiment of indignation against the offenders, and thus perpetrate my cruelties under the agreeable delusion that I am but occupied in inflicting a just retribution. It may perhaps be objected, that malice and hatred often exist as cool settled dispositions of the will ; quite apart from t\\\s feeling of anger. This however is only one particular case of a general phenomenon; of a phenomenon, which must be explained to you at one time or another ; and which may as well therefore be explained now. The propensions may be said to reside primarily in the sensitive appetite, and secondarily in the will. Primarily in the sensitive appetite, because our susceptibility of pleasure appertains exclusively to the sensitive appetite. Secondarily however in the will, for tlie following reason. Suppose, e.g. I have worked for some time at money-getting, under the influence of a strong and lively emotion tending in that direction. These various emotions, as we saw in the third Section, have all been accompanied by correspond- ing acts of the will. These various acts of the will have generated a habit; and the habit of aiming at pleasure will enable the will to act, not languidly but with great steadiness and efflcacity, in the same direc- tion, even when the sensitive excitement is away. And the same truth holds of this propension also. ^very feeling of resentment which I have not resisted, is accompanied l)y an act of the will ; these various acts generate a habit of hatred or malice ; and this habit may enable the will to act with the most de- ON THE ADAPTATION OF OUR NATURE TO VIRTUE. 307 termined and implacable malignity, even apart from any paroxysms of sensitive excitement. On the whole then, there can be no doubt, that that very propension, which would appear on the surface as tending far more than any other to the disruption and overthrow of society, — the feeling of mutual animosity and hatred, — is really on the contrary, if but rightly directed, one of those necessary links which hold society together. * By means of this propension, we can explain a pheno- menon which we have already admitted to exist (see n. 121, p. 249) ; viz. that extreme reprobates feel a certain pleasure in the mere fact of disobeying God. Let us put the case this way. Suppose I Avere to hear of some distinct universe, under the controul of a being who should be perfectly good, so far as my ow^n inadequate ideas of goodness extend. There can be no douljt that, in virtue of this propension, I shoidd sympathize with his government, rejoice in his success, grieve over his failure. But now let me become a member of that universe, and a different kind of feeling ensues. This being's goodness brings him into collision with myself; he forbids me what I wish, and restrains my liberty. My pride is at once wounded ; a practical sense of in- justice takes possession of me ; and I feel pleasure in a certain kind of retribution. I disobey his commands, as it were to spite him. This is St. Thomas's account, and I think a true one, of the cause which produces 'odium Dei;' though here, as in other cases, he is con- sidering liabits of the will, where I am speaking of emotions, t * " The iiulignation raised by cruelty and injustice, and the desire of having it punished, which persons unconcerned would feel, is by no means malice. No, it is resentment against vice and wickedness : it is one of the common bonds by which society is held together : a fellow-feeling, which each individual has in behalf of the whole species, as well as of himself. And it does not appear that this, generally speaking, is at all too high amongst mankind."' — Butler On Resentment. t Respondeo dicendum, quod, sicut ex supra dictis patet (1. 2. qufcst. 29, art. 1) odium est qui