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Marine Biological Laboratory Library
Woods Hole, Mass.
Presented by
The ThoDdst Press
Jime 26, 1962
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THE DIGNITY OF SCIENCE
f CO
THE
DIGNITY OF SCIENCE
Studies in the Philosophy of Science /^^^^t^r^^^
'^» '^
presented to Z^;; Jijs« A3IY)
^ •^'
WILLIAM HUMBERT KANE, O.P. '^s^*;^
EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION
BY
JAMES A. WEISHEIPL, O.P.
in collaboration with
THE THOMIST
AND
THE ALBERTUS MAGNUS LYCEUM
Preface by Michael Browne, O. P., S. T. M.
THE THOMIST PRESS
1961
Originally published as a
SPECIAL ISSUE OF
THE THOMIST
Volume XXIV, Nos. 2, 3, & 4
April, July, October
1961
THE DIGNITY OF SCIENCE
WITH
Introduction by James A. Weisheipl, O. P.
Copyright, 1961
Dominican Fathers, Province of St. Joseph
Cum permissu sujperiorura
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 61-15888
THE THOMIST PRESS
Printed in U. S. A.
WILLIAxM HUiMBERT KANE, O. P.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Letter of the Master General, Michael Browne, O.P.,
S.T.M, Ph.D V
Introduction: The Dignity of Science xvii
By James A. Weisheipl, O.P., D.Phil. (Oxon.)
PART ONE
SCIENTIFIC METHODOLOGY
Demonstration and Self-Evidence 3
By Edward D. Simmons, Ph.D. (Marquette Univ.)
The Significance of the Universal ut nunc 27
By John A. Oesterle, Ph.D. (Univ. of Notre Dame)
William Harvey, M.D.: Modern or Ancient Scientist? 39
By Herbert Ratner, M.D. (Loyola Univ., Chicago)
PART TWO
HISTORY OF SCIENCE
Medicine and Philosophy in the Eleventh and Twelfth Cen-
turies: The Problem of Elements 75
By Richard P. McKeon, Ph.D. (Univ. of Chicago)
The Origins of the Problem of the Unity of Form . 121
By Daniel A. Callus, O.P., S.T.M., D.Phil. (Oxford
Univ., England)
VII
79879
VIU CONTENTS
PAGE
The Celestial Movers in Medieval Physics 150
By James A. Weisiieipl, O.P., Ph.D., D.Phil. (River For-
est, 111.)
Gravitational Motion according to Theodoric of Freiberg 191
By William A. Wallace, O.P., Ph.D., S.T.D. (Dover,
Mass.)
' Mining All Within ': Clarke 's Notes to Rohault's Traite de
Physique 217
By Michael A. Hoskin, Ph.D. (Cambridge Univ., Eng-
land)
PART THREE
PHILOSOPHY OF SCIENCE
Darwin's Dilemma 231
By Charles DeKoninck, Ph.D. (Universite Laval,
Quebec)
4)Y5I2: The Meaning of Nature in the Aristotelian Philos-
ophy of Nature 247
By Sheilah O'Flynn Brennan, Ph.D. (St. Mary's Col-
lege, Notre Dame)
Order in the Philosophy of Nature 266
By Melvin Glutz, C.P., Ph.D. (Passionist Monastery,
Chicago)
Motionless Motion 283
By Roman A. Kocourek, Ph.D. (College of St. Thomas,
St. Paul)
Time, The Measure of Movement 295
By Sister M. Jocelyn, O.P., Ph.D. (Rosary College, River
Forest)
CONTENTS IX
PART FOUR
SPECIAL PROBLEMS OF SCIENCE
PAGE
Evolution and Entropy 305
Bj^ Vincent E. Smith, Ph.D. (St. John's Univ., Jamaica,
N.Y.)
From the Fact of Evolution to the Philosophy of Evolutionism 327
By Raymond J. Nogar, O.P., Ph.D. (River Forest, 111.)
The Rhythmic Universe 366
By Sister Margaret Ann McDowell, O.P., M.S., Ph.D.
(St. Mary of the Springs, Columbus)
Mind, Brain, and Biochemistrys 383
By Albert S. Moraczew^ski, O.P., Ph.D. (Texas Medical
Center, Houston)
Conscience and Superego 408
By Michael Stock, O.P., Ph.D. (Dover, Mass.)
PART FIVE
SOCIOLOGICAL ASPECTS
Contemporary Challenge to the Traditional Ideal of Science . 447
By Ambrose McNicholl, O.P., Ph.D. (Angelicum, Rome)
A Social Science Founded on a Unified Natural Science . . 469
By Benedict M. Ashley, O.P., Ph.D. (River Forest, 111.)
The Role of Science in Liberal Education 486
By Sister M. Olivia Barrett, R.S.M., Ph.D. (St. Xavier
College, Chicago)
American Catholics and Science 503
By Patrick H. Yancey, S.J., Ph.D. (Spring Hill College,
Mobile)
Notes on Our Contributors 521
The Writings of William Humbert Kane, O.P. ... 524
LETTER OF THE MASTER GENERAL
ff*3
hsr.
Roma, (8-48)
Convento S. Sabina (Aventino)
CASA QENERALIZIA
OELL'ORDINE
OEI FRATI PREDICATORI
It was with great pleasure that we learned of this special
occasion to honor the Very Reverend William Humbert Kane,
O. P., founder of The Albertus Magnus Lyceum at River Forest,
Illinois. We were particularly pleased to hear that this homage
on the part of brethren and Sisters of our Order as well as
religious of various other Orders and a host of eminent laymen
transcended nationalities and provincial boundaries. It is only
by cooperative effort among learned men that the sublime ideal
of St. Albert the Great can be realized in a troubled world.
No one can view recent developments in atomic physics
without grave concern not only for the future of humanity,
but also for the very scientists who have merited the respect
of their peers and the admiration of the masses and withal have
come to feel a certain uneasiness of their own consciences.
Scientists have become accustomed to the adulation of the
general public. This adulation, growing with every new dis-
covery, led them to spurn the traditional channels of wisdom,
and to close their eyes ever more to the legitimate claims of
supernatural religion, moral principles, perennial philosophy,
and other elements of culture which contribute to a truly
human life. In the nineteenth century certain specialists in a
particular branch of physics, chemistry, biology or psychology
XI
Xll LETTER OF THE MASTER GENERAL
were willing to be considered the oracles of all human wisdom.
The narrow confines of a specialized branch of natural science,
as we know, provided no vantage point. Consequently, what-
ever could not be comprehended by the specialized principles
was misinterpreted, ridiculed or rejected. However, recent
developments within many branches of science have shaken
these imprudent positions. From the turn of the century to
the present day an ever increasing number of scientists have
found themselves asking questions which formerly were looked
upon by them as purely " philosophical."
Pope Leo XIII saw clearly that all social errors, and conse-
quently a large part of social evils, are ultimately traceable to
false philosophical principles. These are as erroneous today as
they were in the nineteenth century. Throughout his encyclicals
he used the principles of St. Thomas Aquinas, that " prince and
master " of all Scholastic doctors, to analyze prevailing thought
and to outline the rehabilitation of Christian society. In his
immortal encyclical Aeterni Patris he observed: " If anyone
will but turn his attention to the sad condition of our times,
and contemplate thoughtfully the state of things which exists
publicly and privately, he will surely perceive that the fertile
cause of the evils which actually surround us, or of which we
fear the coming, consists in this, that the wicked maxims on
divine and human things which have recently sprung from the
schools of the philosophers have invaded all classes of society,
and are approved by a very great number." ^ Consequently,
he urged all Bishops, teachers and students " to restore the
illustrious system of St. Thomas Aquinas to its former glory "
that the coming generations may nourish themselves " abun-
dantly from those purest streams of wisdom that flow from the
Angelic Doctor, as from an inexhaustible and precious foun-
tain." " That same pontiff in the year 1880, by his Apostolic
Letter Cum hoc sit,^ made and declared Thomas Aquinas,
" who ever shone as the sun in his doctrine and virtue," the
heavenly patron of all Catholic schools, commending him
^ AAS, XII (1879) , 98. ' Ibid., p. 112. =* AAS, XIII (1880) , 56-59.
LETTER OF THE MASTER GENERAL Xlll
especially as the guardian, leader and master of philosophical
and theological studies.* The call of Pope Pius XI, Ite ad
Thomam, rings as clear today as it did in 1923 when he
addressed Studiorum Ducem to the whole Catholic Church/
In more recent times, a deep need was felt by many for a
heavenly patron in the natural sciences. In the solemn Decree
Ad Deum of December 16, 1941, the late Pope Pius XII wrote:
" It is no wonder, then, that the universities and the more
important Catholic colleges, not only in Italy, but in Germany,
France, Hungary, Belgium, Holland, as well as in Spain,
America and the Philippine Islands, besides numbers of pro-
fessors of physics and other natural sciences, at the present time
look upon Albert the Great as a beacon shining in a world
engulfed in gloom. To make sure of the help of Almighty God in
their exacting researches into the world of nature, they eagerly
desire to have for their guide and heavenly intercessor him who,
even in his own day, when many, puffed up with a hollow
science of words, were turning their eyes away from the things
of the spirit, has taught us by his example how we should rather
mount from the things of earth to the things above." ^ Speaking
of the important role played by Our own predecessor. Father
Martin S. Gillet, the late Holy Father continues: " It is, there-
fore, with sentiments of deepest pleasure that we accede to the
wish expressed by the Catholic Academicians at their recent
convention in Trier, by universities and by other international
gatherings of scientists, and brought to Our notice by the
Master General of the Order of Friars Preachers, who, on behalf
of himself and of the Order over which he presides, adds a
fervent plea that We may deign to constitute Saint Albert the
Great the heavenly Patron of students of the natural sciences." ^
The Decree Ad Deum, constituting Albert the heavenly Patron
of those who cultivate the natural sciences, was issued on the
* Cf. Letter of Pius XII to Martin Stanislaus Gillet, March 7, 1942. AAS, XXXIV
(1942), 89.
^ AAS, XV (1923), 323.
"AAS, XXXIV (1942), 90.
' Ibid.
XIV LETTER OF THE MASTER GENERAL
tenth anniversary of the Decree In thesauris sapientiae by
which Pope Pius XI enjoined upon the universal Church the
veneration of Saint Albert the Great, Bishop and Confessor,
with the additional title of Doctor.^
We have watched with paternal concern the growth of The
Albertus Magnus Lyceum at the Pontifical Faculty of Phi-
losophy in River Forest, Illinois. Since its small beginnings in
the Autumn of 1950 under the inspiration of Father Kane and
the support of the Very Reverend Edward L. Hughes, at that
time Provincial of the Province of St. Albert the Great, it has
grown in wisdom and prestige. This growth has taken place to
a great extent under the care of the Very Reverend Edmund J.
Marr, Provincial of the Province of St. Albert the Great. We
have been particularly pleased to observe the devotion of its
members to the solid principles of St. Thomas and St. Albert,
and at the same time the concern of its members with vital
problems of modem science. Problems such as the relation of
Thomistic philosophy to modern science, the foundations and
nature of modern science, the true constitution of matter, the
biological problem of evolution as distinct from evolutionism,
the validity of depth psychology, the influence of physiological
and biochemical factors on mental diseases and many other
problems, cannot be solved without the mutual cooperation of
well trained minds. The Albertus Magnus Lyceum has grad-
ually enlisted the cooperation of Our sons in other Provinces,
the cooperation of Our Sisters of various communities, and most
important, perhaps, it has enlisted the cooperation of eminent
laymen.
We are aware that the inspiration for the Lyceum was due
in large measure to the vision and zeal of its founder, Father
Humbert Kane. Despite many difficulties and obstacles, he
saw the need of cooperation within a specially recognized
institute, and he did not falter. It is indeed a happy coinci-
dence that the tenth anniversary of The Albertus Magnus
«AAS, XXIV (1932), 5-17.
LETTER OF THE MASTER GENERAL XV
Lyceum should coincide with the sixtieth anniversary of the
birth of its founder.
We take this opportunity to impart our paternal blessing to
Father Humbert Kane, on the occasion of his sixtieth birthday,
and to The Albertus Magnus Lyceum, founded by him ten
years ago. We ask the blessing of St. Thomas Aquinas and
of St. Albert the Great for all his associates concerned with
problems of philosophy and science.
Given at Rome, from the Convent of Santa Sabina, on the
Feast of St. Margaret of Hungary, V. O. P., January 19, 1961.
yy^fHiM,
Fr. Michael Browne, 0. P.
Master General
INTRODUCTION
The Dignity of Science
WHEN the first atomic bomb struck the populous
seaport capital of Hiroshima on August 6, 1945, the
entire civilized world was profoundly shocked at
the horror unleashed by science. Ordinary citizens and inter-
national leaders recoiled at the awful potential of the atomic
bomb. Science no longer meant the production of useful gad-
gets, discovery of effective drugs, or development of quicker
and better means of communication. It meant something much
more, something that affects human consciences and destiny.
The moral issues involved in the Hiroshima bombing and in
nuclear warfare in general have been widely discussed, some-
times with considerable vehemence. But even apart from the
moral issues, it is clear to many today that scientific progress
has reached a precarious ledge in its lofty climb. Careful
maneuvering along the ledge can indeed lead to still further
heights. It is the sight of some new height still to be conquered
that urges the scientist, as well as the mountain climber, for-
ward with confident step. But a single misstep at such heights
could bring on a landslide or a plunge to final doom. The
alternatives are clear, and have been clear since Hiroshima:
the possibility of further progress or the annihilation of civili-
zation. Henceforth mankind has to work out its salvation in
the shadow of the mushroom cloud.
The successful launching of Sputnik I in October of 1957
threw government departments, military officers, scientists,
educators and journalists into panic. Incredible as it seemed,
the Soviet Union had overtaken the United States in missile
thrust and guidance systems. American prestige dropped, par-
ticularly in uncommitted countries; investigations were begun
into the so-called " missile lag," and educators hastened to build
xvii
XVIU JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
up the science program in schools of all sizes. Despite the fact
that Soviet students of science are thoroughly indoctrinated
with the philosophy of Dialectical Materialism, some American
educators urged diminishing, and eliminating if possible, courses
in the humanities in a frantic effort to produce more trained
scientists. The panic instilled by Sputnik I almost obliterated
the vision and hope of wiser educators: the molding of a human
being, whether he be a theoretician or a technician. Before
Sputnik I many educators realized the inherent danger to
society and to the individual of excessive specialization, which
neglects history, literature, culture, sound philosophy, religion
and even ordinary grammar. These educators tried to give
potential scientists an appreciation of the real dignity of science
through the history of science, the philosophy of science, or a
study of the Great Books of mankind. Because of Sputnik I
this movement has suffered a temporary set-back. Perhaps
after the fear and panic have subsided, there may still be the
possibility of educating human beings intelligently devoted to
science, rather than technicians unaware of the dignity of their
pursuit.
Long before the atom bomb came to the attention of the
ordinary man, an important revolution had been taking place
within science itself, a theoretical revolution which, in fact,
made the atom bomb possible. The story of this transition from
the mechanical age of physics to the age of relativity and
quantum mechanics has been written many times in this gener-
ation. The path which leads from Clerk Maxwell's hypothesis
identifying magnetic and luminiferous media to the theories of
relativity and quantum was constructed by many experimental
and theoretical physicists. It is a path which leaves far behind
the assurances of Newtonian solids in a void, the fallacy, as
Whitehead called it, of " misplaced concreteness." The tran-
sition from classical mechanics to the two principal theories
of modem physics, relativity and quantum, had an unsettling
effect on philosophers of physical theory. Before the end of the
nineteenth century Carl Neumann, Ernst Mach and Karl Pear-
INTRODUCTION XIX
son had already perceived some of the weaknesses of Newton-
ian axioms and some of the ambiguities in Newtonian concepts.
But they were not wilHng to reject the basic theory of New-
tonian science. Even after Planck's paper of 1900 and Einstein's
theory of 1905, theoreticians of science, such as Henri Poincare
and Pierre Duhem, were unwilling to reject Newtonian prin-
ciples as erroneous. Instead they conceived all scientific theories
as conventional constructs and approximations of the truth. A
scientific theory may be induced from experimental data; its
predictions may be verified in every detail. But, for Poincare
and Duhem, the theory was only one way out of many for
interpreting the data; it was an hypothetical approximation.
The same data could be interpreted with equal verification by
other hypotheses. The irreconcilability of relativity theory and
quantum mechanics, as well as the wave and particle theories
of light, gave much weight to this interpretation of scientific
theory.
Later authors, it is true, have considered Poincare's interpre-
tation of science and hypothesis to be somewhat naive and over-
simplified, and they have rejected certain details of his conven-
tionalism {commodisme) . Nevertheless, the fundamental ele-
ments of his view have been incorporated into the generally
accepted theory of science today. His insistence on the hypo-
thetical character of scientific theory has, in fact, been extended
by modem theoreticians beyond the limits intended by Poin-
care himself. He was willing to grant certainty at least to the
first principles of scientific investigation and to other types of
knowledge. Obviously, he did not reduce his own philosophical
speculations to the status of mere convention and hypothesis.
In the currently accepted view of scientific knowledge, ex-
pounded in philosophies of science, there are three fundamental
points which ought to give us pause. (1) It insists that no
scientific knowledge can be taken as absolutely certain, that
is, without an intrinsic doubt concerning its alterability. The
hypothetical character of all scientific knowledge, it is said,
requires that we accept current scientific knowledge on a tenta-
XX JAMES A. WEISHEIPL.
tive basis only. (2) It insists that all true knowledge must be
' scientific,' and therefore hypothetical. This means that even
the first principles of scientific investigation must be regarded
as hypothetical and tentative. (3) It restricts ' scientific knowl-
edge ' to investigations modeled on, and employing the scien-
tific method of modern physics. This means that the various
branches of speculative and practical philosophy, theology,
history and so forth are not at all scientific, while biology,
psychology, anthropology and sociology deserve the name of
' science ' only insofar as they employ the unique ' scientific
method ' of physics.
Here is not the place to controvert these fundamental points.
However, a brief comparison of modem scientific theory with
the scientific optimism of Aristotle and the ancients is most
revealing. Modern theoreticians apparently have abandoned
hope in the power of man's speculative reason; they seem to be
content with universal uncertainty and a solitary path to knowl-
edge. Whatever may be said of Aristotle's science, he was, at
least, much more confident in the powers of human reason and
more appreciative of the dignity of scientific knowledge. (1)
The tentative status of hypotheses and theories proposed by
modem theoreticians falls far short of Aristotle's ideal of scien-
tific knowledge. Science, for Aristotle, is the attainment of true
and certain causes within reality. Such causes are, of course,
discovered only after careful research and analysis. Whatever
hypotheses, theories or suspicions one may have during the
investigation, they are not to be confused with genuine science.
Such hypotheses are indispensable and inevitable, but they are
only means to the ultimate goal of scientific explanation. (2)
Aristotle's lofty, and perhaps unattainable, ideal of scientific
knowledge did not blind him into thinking that all true knowl-
edge must be of this type. Defending the dignity of science
against the skeptics of the Academy on the one hand, and pro-
testing the universality of science on the other, Aristotle saw
that not all knowledge can be ' scientific,' that is, demonstrable,
for then there would be no beginning. He insisted that the
INTRODUCTION XXI
starting point of scientific investigation must be prior and more
certain than the torturous path leading to a true solution. This
starting point is the light of absolutely first principles, known
with certainty before all scientific demonstration. The complex
process of investigating nature was recognized as extremely
difficult, but Aristotle did not think it hopeless. There is the
security of an immoveable starting point. (3) For Aristotle the
investigation of nature occupied a preeminent place in the
pursuit of knowledge; he himself devoted most of his life to it.
But he did not claim this as the only pursuit of mankind. Even
in the study of the world and man Aristotle recognized various
approaches, each of which is legitimately called ' science.' In
other words, ' science ' is an analogical term, and its dignity
requires that it be recognized in its diversity and complemen-
tarity. The pluralist approach to reality respects the principles,
method and limitations of each legitimate endeavor. No one
branch can be erected into a monolithic idol without destroying
the integrity of truth and the dignity of science.
The warfare between scientists and religion cannot be sub-
dued for long. This is not because of any intrinsic incompati-
bility between science and true religion, but because of the third
point mentioned above. If the scientist refuses to acknowledge
any theories other than those proposed by his own method, con-
flicts are bound to break out periodically. Today the conflict
is most evident in the conception some neo-biologists have of
evolution on the one hand, and the testimony of sound phi-
losophy and revelation on the other. This was evident in the
Darwin Centennial held at the University of Chicago in 1959.
Some biologists claimed the triumph of science over revelation,
since evolutionary theory now proves that man is no more than
a form of evolved matter, and religion a superstition. Even
apart from the embarrassing fact that the methodology of pre-
history is far removed from that of modern physics, we might
pause to marvel at this strange note of triumph. Man is no
more than the beast, the weed, the puff of air! Rejoice! Man
is not very much after all! Dialectical Materialism has been
XXll JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
saying this for over a century. Will there be no voice to defend
the nobility of man and the dignity of science?
II
We have every right to expect Catholic philosophers and
scientists to enter the arena in defence of human dignity, be-
cause they know from revelation and the perennial philosophy
that man's soul is spiritual, made to the image and likeness of
God. We also expect Catholic philosophers and scientists to
make positive contributions to science and its theoretical foun-
dations. In other words, we expect Catholic philosophers and
scientists to appreciate the true dignity of scientific knowledge
and research — not because they might be more gifted, but
because they have the advantage of the true faith and the
resources of a philosaphia perennis. This does not mean that
Catholics are in a position to judge scientific details a priori,
or without careful study. Scientific research and analysis are
laborious occupations for everyone, Catholic and non-Catholic;
and progress in scientific knowledge is a result of cooperative
effort, utilizing every means at one's disposal. Nevertheless,
Catholics start out with the assurance that the truths revealed
by God are absolutely certain and that no truth discoverable by
science can contradict them. These revealed truths include
both supernatural realities beyond the scope of reason and
certain natural realities within the competence of reason and
science, such as the existence of God and the immortality of
the human soul. Further, the Catholic starts with the assurance
that all truth is from God and can lead back to Him if the
whole pattern of reality is considered. Finally, the Catholic
has at his disposal a font of ancient wisdom which Leo XIII
called the philosophia perennis. This perennial philosophy, of
course, is not a matter of divine revelation; nor does it pretend
to contain all the answers. But it does propose true answers
to some of the more basic questions of science and human life,
answers which can be evaluated by natural reason, and which
can be accepted as a starting point for further serious investiga-
INTRODUCTION XXIU
tion. Even the method whereby fruitful investigation can be
continued today is to be found in the perennial philosophy of
the ancients. Only an unreasonable or prejudiced thinker would
dismiss this wisdom of the ancients without fair study. An
ancient truth does not cease to be true just because it is ancient.
Nor does the perennial philosophy cease to be philosophy just
because someone else thought of it first.
When Leo XIII called for the restoration of the philosophia
perennis in Catholic schools, he explicitly desired this to be the
light by which modern problems of natural science, social
ethics and metaphysics are to be worked out. " Even physics,
the study which is now held in such high esteem, and which by
its many wonderful discoveries has secured to itself everywhere
special admiration, will not only receive no detriment but a
powerful help from the restoration of the ancient philosophy."
Leo XIII pointed out that the consideration of facts and the
observation of nature are alone not sufficient for the fruitful
appreciation and advancement of natural science. One needs
discussion of more fundamental questions of science, reflection
on the data obtained, synthesis of various aspects, analysis of
scientific theory itself and epistemological evaluation in the
light of human knowledge as a whole. " To these investigations
it is wonderful what light and powerful aid is afforded by
scholastic philosophy, if it be wisely handled." The examples
of St. Thomas Aquinas and Blessed Albertus Magnus were pro-
posed to modern investigators of nature by Pope Leo. Over
half a century later Pope Pius XII gave modern scientists St.
Albert the Great for their heavenly patron, " in order that stu-
dents of the natural sciences, bearing in mind that he had been
given them as their guide, might follow in his footsteps and not
cling too tightly to the investigation of the fragile things of this
life, nor forget that their souls are meant for immortality, but
use created things as rungs in a ladder that will elevate them
to understand heavenly things and take supreme delight in
them."
Leo XIII had ordered the restoration of scholastic philoso-
XXIV JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
phy, particularly that of St. Thomas Aquinas, in all centers
of Catholic learning — seminaries, colleges, institutes and uni-
versities— that Catholic intellectuals might contribute to the
solution of modern problems. The carrying out of this directive
was a difficult task. There are some observers today who claim,
with considerable justification, that the Leonine directive has
never been earned out fully even to this day. However, there
were special difficulties in the 1880's. Scholastic philosophy was
a philosophy, and ' philosophy ' since the time of Leibniz and
Wolff meant metaphysics and ethics. Metaphysics, for Wolff
and his innumerable disciples, was divided into general ontology
and special ontology, embracing cosmology, psychology and
theodicy. Consequently some Catholics fancied that Thomistic
philosophy had to be truncated to fit the Procrustean bed of
Wolffian metaphysics. Furthermore, the acquisition of scien-
tific knowledge is a difficult task, requiring special training and
devotion. Professional philosophers in seminaries and universi-
ties could hardly be expected to acquire detailed knowledge of
highly developed sciences. Consequently it seemed more ex-
pedient to let science alone and concentrate on a metaphysical
type of cosmology and rational psychology.
The first university to attempt to fulfill the wishes of Leo
XIII was the Catholic University of Lou vain. In a papal brief
of December 25, 1880, the bishops of Belgium were directed to
establish a chair of Thomistic philosophy. By July, 1882,
arrangements had been made with the University, and Canon
Desire Mercier, professor of philosophy at the Seminary of
Malines, was appointed to the chair. To prepare himself for
this new and unique post. Dr. Mercier (with beard and with-
out clerical garb) undertook formal training in psychology
under the famous Charcot in Paris. At Louvain he followed the
formal courses and laboratory work in physiology, neurology,
chemistry, mathematics and linguistics. He was convinced that
no domain of modem science can be considered foreign to
Thomistic philosophy. In 1888 Msgr. Mercier founded, with
the enthusiastic approval of the pontiff, the Institut Superleur
INTRODUCTION XXV
de PhUosophie, or Ecole saint Thomas d'Aquin. Outlining the
program of the Institut, Msgr, Mereier said, " The science of
today is above all a science of the most exact individual re-
search. . . . Let us train, in greater numbers, men who will
devote themselves to science for itself, without any aim that is
professional or directly apologetic, men who will work at first
hand in fashioning the materials for the edifice of science." The
new Institut was to be a center of study and research where
work would be done on " science in the making." Msgr. Mereier
accepted the tripartite division of speculative knowledge ex-
plained by St. Thomas: natural philosophy, mathematics and
metaphysics. Natural philosophy and experimental science
constituted a unified discipline of mind, quite distinct from
metaphysics. But, as Mereier expressed it, Thomistic natural
philosophy seeks ' ultimate ' causes (projiter quid) , while ex-
perimental science seeks ' proximate ' causes (quia) . Mercier's
distinction, which was accepted by his distinguished associates,
Michotte and Nys, is still found in many modem manuals of
scholastic philosophy.
The influence of Mereier was very great, both at Louvain and
elsewhere. The example of Louvain was soon followed by the
Catholic institutes and universities of Munich, Milan, Paris,
Cologne, Miinster, Fribourg, Nijmegen, the " Gregorian," the
" Angelicum " and the Catholic University of America.
After the death of Cardinal Mereier in 1926, a number of
Louvain professors under the inspiration of Femand Renoirte
have come to see a sharp distinction between the non-causal
explanations of modern science and the causal explanations of
Thomistic philosophy. For them St. Thomas' natural philoso-
phy seems to be of the metaphysical order and different from
the technique of modern science. In effect, this was a return
to the Wolffian conception of philosophy, although today it is
presented as the authentic teaching of St. Thomas. Alumni of
Louvain have made this view widely known in the Netherlands
and in the United States. According to this view the philosophy
of nature is a metaphysical study, differing essentially from the
XXVI JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
experimental sciences, because it reaches " a level of thought in
which no sense-perceptible element is retained and therefore no
verification by the senses is possible." In " support " of this
view, proponents invariably quote, out of context, a passage
from St. Thomas' In Boethium De trinitate, q. 5, a. 1 ad 6.
However, apart from the impossibility of justifying this view in
the writings of St. Thomas, St. Albert or any of the schoolmen,
it seems to be unsatisfactory for many reasons. It is based on
what seems to be a misconception of metaphysics; it apparently
ignores the genesis of analogical concepts; and it widens the
chasm between philosophy and science, returning to the in-
soluble situation of Wolffian Idealism. It denies the dignity of
natural science by giving it too little intellectual content, and
it denies the dignity of natural philosophy by rarefying it be-
yond sense contact. There is no doubt that the physical uni-
verse can be studied ' metaphysically,' but only at the expense
of those very details of interest to the natural philosopher. The
universe which interests the natural philosopher is full-blooded,
and quite un-metaphysical.
A more realistic approach to the relation of philosophy to
science was made by Jacques Maritain in his monumental
Distinguer pour JJnir: ou Les Degres dii Savoir (1932) and in
his detailed La Philosophie de la Nature of 1935. This dis-
tinguished Thomist learned contemporary philosophy from
Henri Bergson and biology from Hans Driesch before finding
his home in Thomism. First, Maritain accepts the traditional
division of speculative philosophy into natural philosophy,
mathematics and metaphysics. Second, he realizes that the
experimental sciences have developed greatly since the time of
Aristotle and St. Thomas Aquinas. Third, he examines modem
' science ' and sees that it is not a homogeneous whole; in fact,
it includes two specifically different types of knowledge. One
type is formally mathematical, even though empirical. This
type Maritain calls eTnpiriometrique, because it is concerned
solely with the measurable aspect of empirical observation.
This concern is characteristic of all parts of modern physics
INTRODUCTION XXVU
and a great part of modern chemistry. However, for Maritain,
this type of knowledge was familiar to Aristotle and St. Thomas
as scientiae mediae between pure mathematics and natural phi-
losophy. The second type of knowledge found in modem science
is essentially empirical, descriptive of phenomena, ' perinoetic '
and somewhat hypothetical in character. This type Maritain
calls empirioschematique, because it is concerned solely with
ordering empirical observation by means of non-mathematical
constructs. This concern is characteristic of such experimental
sciences as biology, botany, anthropology, physiology, neu-
rology and psychology. Finally, Maritain comes to reconciling
his analysis of modern science with the traditional division of
speculative knowledge. The empiriometric sciences present no
difficulty, since they are scientiae mediae between mathematics
and the first degree of abstraction. The empirioschematic sci-
ences, however, present a problem. They do not attain the
essential natures of material things; they are rather descriptive,
hypothetical and superficial (perinoetic) . Aristotle's natural
philosophy, on the other hand, intuitively attains the essential,
ontological natures of changeable being; it is ' dianoetic,' pro-
found and certain. Therefore Maritain suggests that Aristo-
telian natural philosophy and modem empirioschematic science
belong to two dift'erent levels of intelligibility within the tradi-
tional first degree of abstraction, the former resolving its
definitions to ' being,' the latter to sense and ' mobility.' The
view of Jacques Maritain, therefore, is similar to that of Car-
dinal Mercier, except . that Maritain alone accounts for the
unique position of physics in modern science.
There is no denying the acumen of M. Maritain's analysis
and the astuteness of his solution. There is only one difficulty:
if the empirioschematic sciences are as superficial and hypo-
thetical as Maritain believes, then they are not sciences at all,
but only dialectical preparations for science. Scientific knowl-
edge, as understood by Aristotle and St. Thomas, consists in
true demonstration, that is, a causal explanation of essential
properties. But this is impossible without dianoetic knowledge
XXVm JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
of essential natures. In other words, without knowledge of the
essential nature of the subject and the property, there can be
no demonstration; there can be no scientific knowledge properly
so called. The anomaly of M. Maritain's position is that he
reconciles modern empirioschematic science with Thomistic
philosophy of nature by depreciating modern science. Un-
doubtedly there are many areas of modern ' science ' which are
superficially descriptive, tentative and dialectical in content.
If, on the other hand, there are areas of modern science which
truly attain essential natures and through them demonstrate
characteristic attributes, as often seems to be the case in the
biological sciences, then the situation is very different from that
presented by M. Maritain.
A better solution was recognized by Fr. Aniceto Fernandez-
Alonso, O. P. In 1936 he published a remarkable paper entitled
" Scientiae et Philosophia secundum S. Albertum Magnum."
Examining the scholastic scene of the 1930's, Fr. Fernandez
saw that all scholastics wished to recognize a real distinction
between modem science and Aristotelian philosophy. This dis-
tinction was variously described as one of content (accidental
relations vs. substantial essences, phenomena vs. noumena,
sensible vs. intelligible) or one of method (inductive vs. de-
ductive, proximate causes vs. ultimate causes, quia demonstra-
tions vs. propter quid demonstrations) . Fr. Fernandez then
went on to show that none of these can differentiate the specu-
lative sciences, for every science, whether it be called empirical
or philosophical, must deal with substance and accidents, must
be intelligible and sensible; further, every science must be in-
ductive and deductive, must demonstrate through immediate
(propter quid) and remote (quia) causes. Fr. Fernandez's
own view can be summarized briefly in three propositions, each
of which he proves at great length. (1) All modern science and
all natural philosophy are specifically distinct from metaphysics.
(2) All sciences formally illuminated by mathematical prin-
ciples are specifically distinct from sciences of nature, although
materially they all study the same physical universe. (3) Aris-
INTRODUCTION XXIX
totelian natural philosophy and the so-called empirical, or
experimental sciences constitute one specific discipline, both
materially and formally: they are two parts of one and the
same science concerning ens mobile, and each part has need of
the other. These propositions are all justifiable according to
the principles of Albertus Magnus. Fr. Fernandez concludes his
study by saying, " The division of human knowledge into philo-
sophic and scientific as into two species necessarily and always
distinct by the very nature of the objects and the formal inde-
pendence of one from the other is an assertion which can be
made in Platonic, Cartesian, Hegehan and Bergsonian philoso-
phy, but cannot be made in Aristotelian or Albertine philoso-
phy, nor according to the truth of the matter."
Today the view of Fr. Fernandez is defended by the Very
Reverend William Humbert Kane, O.P., and the Albertus
Magnus Lyceum. On reading the paper in 1936, Fr. Kane
immediately recognized the merits of this view, and his own
quest for a solution fell into place. Through his stimulating
classes! and informal discussions he developed a group of dis-
ciples and friends who were equally convinced of the impor-
tance of a unified view of Thomistic natural philosophy and
modern investigations. By 1950 sufficient unified interest was
shown in the study of natural philosophy and modern prob-
lems to warrant suggesting a special institute directed by
Fr. Kane for serious work in this area. The idea of such an
institute was, indeed, unique in the Dominican Order; on the
other hand, nowhere in the Order were there so many men con-
vinced of the importance of Thomistic natural philosophy for
the solution of modern problems. The idea of an institute de-
voted to special research was also unique among Dominicans
in the United States; on the other hand, the time was ripe for
such a venture in this country. Consequently the idea was
formally presented to the Provincial of the Dominican Province
of St. Albert the Great, the Very Reverend Edward L. Hughes,
O. P., by the Regent of Studies and President of the Pontifical
Faculty of Philosophy at River Forest, Illinois, the Very Rev-
XXX JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
erend Sebastian E. Carlson. By special decree of the Provincial,
the Albertus Magnus Lyceum was established at River Forest
in 1951, its official date of inception being celebrated on Novem-
ber 15, the feast of St. Albert.
On this tenth anniversary of its establishment the Lyceum
takes great pleasure in presenting this volume of studies to its
founder and former director on his sixtieth birthday. The
volume reflects the wide interest of its members and friends.
From small beginnings the Lyceum has grown to include
Dominicans of other Provinces and many non-Dominicans. It
has developed a serious interest in scientific methodology, the
history and philosophy of science, various technical problems of
physics, biology, evolution and psychology; and it has had a
decided influence on the teaching of natural science in the
schools. Of course, much remains to be done in these vast areas
of natural science and more specialists are needed even now.
Here one can apply the phrase of St. Thomas: Fiat aliqualiter
per plura, quod non potest fieri per unum.
The Lyceum's view of natural philosophy and the modem
sciences has been presented in innumerable writings, lectures,
symposia and discussions. Nevertheless, its view has been
frequently misunderstood and misrepresented by those who,
presumably, disagree with its position. Presumably they have
read at least some of the writings which they attack. But it is
unreasonable to expect fruitful discussion and disagreement
without mutual understanding. By far the most commonly
misunderstood point is the Lyceum's (and Maritain's) dis-
tinction of modern sciences. Neither Maritain nor the Lyceum
considers * modern science ' to be a single, homogeneous body
of knowledge. They make a careful distinction between those
sciences which are formerly mathematical and those which are
not. Formally mathematical sciences {empiriometrique, scien-
tiae mediae, mathematical-physical sciences) are acknowledged
to be really distinct from the philosophy and science of nature.
Although extrinsic, the mathematical-physical sciences are of
utmost importance to the naturalist in the examination of prob-
INTRODUCTION XXXI
lems and in the quest for proper solutions, demonstrative or
tentative. Conversely, the natural sciences are of importance
to the mathematical physicist in giving him the extrinsic foun-
dation for his own science. Further, the Lyceum considers the
non-mathematical parts of modem science to belong to a single
science concerning ens mobile ut mobile. In practice, courses in
natural philosophy rarely get beyond general considerations,
and courses in experimental science rarely get beyond particular
considerations and experiments. However, the Lyceum con-
siders that in both the general and particular parts of this
unique discipline there are to be found diverse types of cer-
tainty: demonstrative, most probable, tentative, hypothetical,
factual and even historical. Finally, the Lyceum maintains that
the single science of nature is autonomous in its own field, and
in the order of learning prior to and independent of metaphysics.
There are many advantages to this view. First, it recognizes
the dignity of a scientific study of the natural world which
includes man, animals, plants and inanimate realities. Second,
it recognizes the importance of this science for moral, meta-
physical and theological concepts. Third, it offers a real possi-
bility of cooperation between the professional philosopher and
the experimental scientist. Fourth, it is consistent with the
teaching of St. Thomas and St. Albert, for whom natural science
is incomplete unless after studying the general theory found in
the Physics, one proceeds to more and more particular species
and varieties of living and non-living natures. Fifth, it is con-
sistent with the actual practice of modern scientists, who begin
with very particular varieties and gradually ascend to a more
embracing unity, usually in old age. Here the statement of
Heraclitus would be applicable: " The way up and the way
down is one and the same."
in
It is not very often that an institution can celebrate its own
anniversary and that of its founder at the same time. Hence
it is a privilege for the Lyceum to celebrate its tenth anni-
versary by presenting these special studies to Fr. William
XXXll JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
Humbert Kane on his sixtieth birthday, July 12, 1961. His
inspiring devotion to study, to teaching and to the Dominican
way of life deserve some recognition from his brethren and
friends besides the normal courtesies of academic and religious
life. This Festschrift is presented to him with warm affection,
deep respect and eternal gratitude. It is a token, indeed a very
small token, of our great esteem. Those who esteem Fr. Kane's
life-long work recognize his influence on the intellectual life
in the United States, both within and without the Dominican
Order. Those who have not had the privilege of knowing him
will find in this volume the fruits of much of his labor.
William (Dean) Kane was born in La Grange, a suburb of
Chicago, on July 12, 1901. After completing Lyons Township
High School and attending Aquinas College in Columbus, he
entered the Order of Preachers in Somerset, Ohio, in 1920, and
took the religious name of Humbert. After the normal course
of studies he was ordained to the priesthood in Washington on
June 9, 1927. But while he was studying theology at the Do-
minican House of Studies in Washington, he studied pre-
medicine at the Catholic University of America (1923-26) and
medicine at Georgetown University School of Medicine (1926-
28) in preparation for the Chinese missions. Successfully com-
pleting his Lectorate dissertation, " The Criterion of Philo-
sophical Truth," in 1928, he was sent to the Collegio Angelico
in Rome for two years graduate study in philosophy. His ex-
amination and dissertation on " Finality in Nature " obtained
for him the Doctorate of Philosophy summa cum laude in June
of 1930. His life thereafter was completely devoted to teach-
ing, and it is for this that he is best known. In thirty years of
teaching — biology, logic, natural philosophy, metaphysics and
theology — he has given much serious thought to the text of St.
Thomas and to modem problems. From 1933 until 1940 Fr.
Kane was Lector Primarius in the House of Philosophy at River
Forest, and from 1940 until 1948 he was Pro-Regent of Studies
for the newly created Province of St. Albert the Great. On
December 17, 1944, the River Forest studium was established
INTRODUCTION XXXlll
as a Pontifical Faculty of Philosophy, and Fr. Kane became its
first President. On that day, too, he received the ring and
biretta of a Master in Sacred Theology, a degree which he had
rightfully earned through his teaching. Returning to Rome as
Professor of Natural Philosophy in 1948, he created such an
impression on the students that he was thought to be more
European than American in his devotion to study. In 1951
when the Albertus Magnus Lyceum was established, he re-
turned to the United States to be its director. The bulk of his
writings date from this return to River Forest. Now at sixty,
the Very Rev. William Humbert Kane feels that his work is
just beginning, but he has the assurance that his ideals have
taken root in the minds and hearts of his disciples. We extend
to him our gratitude, prayers and best wishes AD MULTOS
ANNOS.
For the preparation of this volume special gratitude is due
not only to the eminent contributors, who enthusiastically en-
dorsed the project from the start, but also to those members of
the Albertus MagTius Lyceum who are not represented here.
Particular acknowledgement must be made to the President,
the Very Rev. Sebastian E. Carlson, and to the Secretary of
the Lyceum, the Rev. William B. Mahoney, whose tireless
efforts supported the whole project. The Lyceum gratefully
acknowledges the encouragement and contribution of the
Master General of the Order of Preachers, the Most Rev.
Michael Browne, and his Socius for the North American
Provinces, the Very Rev. John A. Driscoll. Our sincere grati-
tude is offered to the Very Reverend John E. Marr, O. P.,
Provincial of the Province of St. Albert, who has given his en-
couragement and support to this volume. Since the effort has
reached beyond provincial boundaries, we extend this same
gratitude to the Very Reverend W. D. Marrin, O. P., Provincial
of the Province of St. Joseph. Above all, we are grateful to
The Thomist Press and the editorial staff of The Thomist who
have joined with the Albertus Magnus Lyceum in honoring our
Father William Humbert Kane, O. P., S. T. M.
James A. Weisheipl, O. P.
D.Phil. (Oxon.)
Part One
SCIENTIFIC METHODOLOGY
DEMONSTRATION AND SELF-EVIDENCE
I. Scientific Methodology
IT can be forcefully argiied that there is no place in phi-
losophy for an " epistemological critique " of knowledge,
as though the integrity of the intellect stood in doubt till
it was somehow philosophically " cleared." ^ Surely, for reason
to attempt to establish the trustworthiness of reason is for it
to try to pull itself up by its own epistemological boot
straps. The history of thought gives ample evidence that criti-
cal attempts to justify the philosophical effort are in vain. No
m.atter how honest the epistemological critique in intention,
it results characteristically in an unnatural imposition of
artificial limits placed upon our capacities to know. Witness
the divergent streams of extreme rationalism and extreme
empiricism which find their source in the critique of Descartes.^
Significantly, St. Thomas did not find it necessary to initiate his
philosophical effort with a critique of knowledge. A Thomist
speaks meaningfully of epistemology best in reference to a
metaphysical inquiry into the character of intentional being.
He takes epistemology as an attempt to understand what it is
to know, not an attempt to defend the radical integrity of our
^ Cf., Gilson, fitienne, Realisme Thomiste et Critique de la Connaissance (Paris:
J. Vrin, 1947) ; Realisme Methodique (Paris: P. Teque, 1935) .
^ Gilson 's frequently quoted remark on Berkeley and the Cartesian critique bears
repetition here: " Everyone is free to decide whether he shall begin to philosophize
as a pure mind; if he should elect to do so the difHculty will not be how to get
into the mind, but how to get out of it. Four great men have tried it and failed.
Berkeley's own achievement was to realize at last, that it was a useless and foolish
thing even to try it. In this sense at least, it is true to say that Berkeley brought
Descartes' ' noble experiment ' to a close, and for that reason his work should always
remain as a landmark in the history of philosophy." The Unity of Philosophical
Experience (New York: Chas. Scribner's Sons, 1937) , pp. 196-197.
4 EDWARD D. SIMMONS
capacities for knowledge. That we can know is evident. It is
both futile and unnecessary to attempt to prove this.*
Although St. Thomas did not hamper his capacities for
knowledge by imposing a 'priori restrictions upon them, he saw
that, in a sense, they imposed restrictions upon him. There is
no question, from the very start, as to the radical integrity
of sense and intellect. Despite the fact that we are sometimes
in error, it is evident that we can, and adequately, know what
is. But our capacities for knowing are in no sense unlimited.
Honest reflection upon the epistemological facts reveals that
the human intellect is that lesser type of intellect which is at
once a reason. For us all doctrine and discipline is from pre-
existing knowledge.* We learn by moving from what is already
known to what follows from this. The fact is clear that, as
far as learning is concerned, the human intellect is naturally
discursive. Moreover, the price of discursive advance in knowl-
edge is the construction within the intellect of logical artifices
such as definitions and argumentations. The method of con-
struction which is called for by the demands of discourse is in
no sense arbitrary. As always, the final cause is the cause of
the causality of the other causes. The end of the logical con-
struct requires certain determinate rules according to which
the objects known are to be ordered in knowledge in reference
to one another. Thus, there are definite rules of procedure
which constrain the intellect in its discursive progress.^ These
* Cf., Smith, Gerard, S. J., "A Date in the History of Epistemology," in The
Maritain Volume of The Thomist (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1943), pp. 246-255.
* In I Post. Anal., lect. 1, n. 9: " Omnis autem disciplinae acceptio ex prae-
existenti cognitione fit." (The quotations from St. Thomas will be taken from the
Leonine for the Summa, the Decker for the De Trinitate, the Lethielleux for the
Sentences, and from the respective Marietti editions for each of the other works
cited.)
The general rules of discursive procedure, we shall note, are one with the laws
of logic. Logic is simultaneously an art and a science. As an art it is directive of a
productive activity — precisely, for logic, the construction within the reason of the
instruments of discourse, such as definition and argumentation. The character of
any work-to-be-produced sets the standard according to which the artistic effort
is to be effected. Thus every art has its own determinate rules of procedure. In the
case of logic, of course, these are the rules of sound discourse. And in the case of
DEMONSTRATION AND SELF-EVIDENCE 5
can be said to constitute a method, and the reflexive investi-
gation of them can be spoken of as methodology. It should be
clear that this is not method in the manner of Cartesian
method, nor is it methodology in the manner of epistemological
critique.
There is for man but one reason. Hence, there is generally
but one method, that is, the discursive method which measures
up to the demands of that one reason. But there are many
different things to be known, on radically different scientifically
relevant levels. As a consequent, the general method of the
reason must be proportioned to each scientifically different
object for each formally different scientific effort. The general
method of the reason is logic. Logic is at best analogously
common to every scientific inquiry. By itself it is inadequate
to any particular scientific subject matter. Logic must be con-
tracted, and in analogously different ways, to the needs of
every scientifically different subject. This contraction of logic
is realized in the particular scientific methods proper to each
formally different scientific subject.^ Note that while logic by
itself is inadequate to any given scientific inquiry because of
the special demands of the proper subject of that inquiry, there
can, because of the demands of the reason itself, be no particular
logic, because discourse is aimed ultimately at a fully defended scientific knowledge
of things, the rules of the art must themselves be evident in themselves or demon-
stratively defended. Since only the most fundamental rules of logic are evident in
themselves the majority of them must be demonstrated. Thus, in order for logic
to be the art that it is, it must be at once the demonstrative science of the rules
of discourse. As a matter of fact, the rules of discourse are the canons which
express the demands of the second intentions which accrue to objects as known and
m virtue of which these objects are to be ordered in discourse. Thus logic is simul-
taneously the art of sound discourse and the demonstrative science of second
intentions or rules of discourse. For a more complete exposition and defense of this
position, cf., Simmons, Edward, " The Nature and Limits of Logic," The Thomist,
XXIV (January, 1961), pp. 47-71.
®In In Boeth. de Trin., q. 6, a. 1, St. Thomas distinguishes between the demon-
strative method characteristic of natural science (rationabiliter) , the method of
mathematics (disciplinabiliter) ,. and the method of metaphysics {intellectualiter) .
These represent different contractions of the general logic of demonstration in favor
of formal differences in diverse scientific subjects.
6 EDWARD D. SIMMONS
scientific method which is not generally logical. Clearly, the
investigation into general logical method is methodology in one
sense, while the investigation into the precise method of any
given scientific inquiry is methodology in another (related)
sense. We can refer to the former as general methodology and
the latter as particular or special methodology.^
In this paper we shall concern ourselves with the role of the
self-evident proposition in the theory of demonstration. This
is a study in general methodology. The point made will be
of a common character, and the methodological principles
uncovered will be only generally relevant for scientific inquiry.
In every case an appropriate contraction of the doctrine pre-
sented will be necessary before it is proximately adequate to
any given scientific effort. Before proceeding, however, there
remains one more distinction to be made, the better to locate
the discussion of this paper. General methodology is identical
with logical theory, and, as such, admits of the distinction
between formal and material logic. This is a distinction which is
both legitimate and significant, but it is a distinction which
is frequently misunderstood. Although it is a distinction which
should be made within the limits of general logical theory, it is
not infrequently understood in such a way that formal logic is
identified with general methodology while material logic is asso-
ciated intrinsically with particular scientific methodology. This
mistaken view makes logic less than adequate to the demands
of reason even in abstraction from the particular demands
of any given scientific subject. And, while it may not positively
vitiate the investigation into particular scientific method, it
places an unreasonable burden upon it. Just as there are
general rules of logical procedure to be followed if discourse is
to be consistent or valid, so there are general rules of procedure
to be followed if discourse is to be of some determinate scientific
force. Categorical syllogism is defined in terms of validity.
The rules which must be followed to make the syllogism pre-
cisely a syllogism (e. g., the middle term must be fully
^ Cf., In II Met., lect. 5, n. 335; In II De Anima, lect. 3, n. 245.
DEMONSTRATION AND SELF-EVIDENCE 7
distributed at least once) are canons of valid or consistent
discourse. Demonstration, on the other hand, while pre-
supposing validity, is defined in terms of scientific force. And
there are general rules, able to be determined apart from any-
particular scientific subject, which must be followed if a syllo-
gism is to be demonstration (e. g., the premises must be
necessarily true) , and even more determinate general rules
which must be followed if the demonstration is to be of a
certain type (e. g., explanatory demonstration must have a
middle term which is related to the scientific subject as its
real definition) . These rules, while quite clearly remaining of
a general logical character (i. e., open to contraction in the
face of special scientific subject matter, but not yet con-
tracted ) are canons of properly scientific, and not simply con-
sistent, discourse. Rules such as these are proper to material
logic, while the rules of merely consistent discourse are rules
of formal logic. There are reasons which explain why formal
logic is sometimes confused with the whole of logic and why
material logic is sometimes confused with particular scientific
methodology.* But these reasons only help to excuse the man
* The formal subject of the science of logic is the second intention. Second inten-
tions are logical forms or relations of the reason which accrue to objects (first
intentions) precisely as known. Some second intentions accrue to an object
properly in virtue of its mode of signifying (e. g., predicate, middle term, and
syllogism) . Others accrue directly in virtue of the intelligible content of the object
(e. g., species, immediate, and demonstration) . The former are second intentions in
formal logic, and they set the demands for valid discourse. The latter are second
intentions in Tnaterial logic, and these set the demands for scientific discourse.
Although St. Thomas explicitly distinguishes between formal and material logic
only on the level of the logic of the third operaton (cf., In I Post. Anal., prooem.,
nn. 5-6) , the distinction makes sense also on the levels of the first and second
operations, as the examples above illustrate. [Cf., Simon, Yves, " Foreword," The
Material Logic oj John of St. Thomas, translated by Yves Simon, John Glanville,
and G. Donald Hollenhorst (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1955), pp. ix-xxiii.]
The subject matter for logical theory is always the second intention, and never
directly the first intention to which the second intention accrues. Thus, there is a
sense in which logic is only formal (investigating logical forms) and never material
(discussing the mtelligible content of first intentions, which is the matter of dis-
course) . And even apart from this, it is clear that second intentions in material
logic are more proximately connected with the intelligible content of first intentions
8 EDWARD D. SIMMONS
who is confused. They do not defend the confusion as a noetic
fact. The theory of demonstration in general remains, as much
as the theory simply of syllogism, the concern properly of the
logician. It must be assumed and contracted to the needs of
the special subject matter for any given scientific inquiry.
Thus the concern of this paper is within the limits of logic,
but it belongs to that branch of logic which is material logic
rather than formal logic. This brings us significantly closer to
the area of particular methodology than a paper in formal
logic would, but we remain in logic without trespassing beyond.
II. Self-evident Proposition — The Basic Truths
OF Demonstration
Early in the Posterior Analytics, after determining the nature
of scientific knowledge (in brief, certa cognitio per causas ^) ,
than are those in formal logic. The connection is so intimate that Simon and his
fellow translators suggest that the Jwhitus of material logic is reduced in actual use
to the science which employs it (ibid., note 39, pp. 594-595) . Whether this is the
case or not, it remains true that the formal subject of material logic as well as the
formal subject of formal logic is no more nor less than a logical form or second
intention. This means, of course, that material logic is integrally a part of logic
proper and is not, as a science, to be confused with any (and every) particular
sicence of the real. (Cf., Simmons, E., op. cit.)
' The Posterior Analytics, Book I, Ch. 2, 71b9-12: " We suppose ourselves to
possess unqualified scientific knowledge of a thing . , . when we think we know
the cause on which the fact depends, as the cause of that fact and of no other, and,
further, that the fact could not be other than it is." [Translation from The Basic
Works of Aristotle, edited by Richard McKeon (New York: Random House, 1941),
p. Ill] There should be no need to insist that, in the face of current usage, this
gives a highly restricted (and exceedingly strict) meaning to " science." As we
begin to speak of this kind of science as demonstrated knowledge there is, of course,
a proportionately strict understanding of the meaning of " demonstration." Still,
the terms " science " and " demonstration " admit of analogous impositions, even
as used by us in this paper. For example, demonstrations differ analogously from
one genus of speculative science to another — so that mathematical demonstration
is only proportionally like metaphysical demonstration (cf. In Boeth. de Trin., q. 6,
a. 1; In I Post. Anal., lect. 41), and even within a given science — so that a propter
quid demonstration in one science is only proportionally like a quia demonstration
in that same science (cf ., ibid., lect. 23) . Having introduced this strict meaning of
science in the second chapter of The Posterior Analytics, Aristotle has set the stage
to demand of the scientific syllogism that its premises be necessarily true and
DEMONSTRATION AND SELF-EVIDENCE 9
Aristotle defines demonstration in terms of its final cause as a
syllogism productive of science. Then, using this definition of
demonstration itself as a principle of demonstration, he pro-
ceeds to demonstrate the definition of demonstration in terms
of its matter. He argues that if a syllogism is to produce the
kind of conclusion which is properly scientific it must proceed
from premises which are true, primary, immediate, better
known than, prior to, and cause of the conclusion. This is to
say that it must proceed from necessarily true, absolutely first
propositions, which look to no prior proposition for their evi-
dence but are calculated to supply evidence for other proposi-
tions. We speak of these propositions as self-evident. Scientific
knowledge is proven in a demonstration whose premises mani-
fest the truth of the scientific conclusion. As principles of the
conclusion these premises are properly premises. In any given
case, however, they may also be conclusions from other
premises. But it is impossible, of course, that every premise
be itself a conclusion from a prior premise. We must arrive
ultimately at premises which are only premises, at propositions
which are not shown to be evident by way of prior propositions
but whose evidence is found within themselves. These absolute
premises are ultimately the complex principles ^° of scientific
knowledge, themselves not properly scientific, but rather pre-
scientific. They are self-evident propositions, the propositions
spoken of in the Posterior Analytics as " the immediate basic
truths of syllogism " or, more determinately, of demonstration.
immediately so (Ch. 3) . It is important to note that, for the most part, the sub-
sequent discussion of the requirements for demonstration is centered upon the
strictest type of propter quid demonstration and is only proportionally relevant to
other types.
^° The absolute premises of demonstration are significant principles of demonstra-
tive discourse. So too is the middle term of the demonstration (which is not
identical with any premise, though it is built into each) . The former are complex
principles of demonstration. The latter is an incomplex principle. We are concerned
primarily with the complex principles of demonstration in this paper, although, as
we shall note, the definition itself plays a significant role in the discussion of these
complex principles. As a matter of fact Aristotle lists the definition as a type of
demonstrative principle in the very context of the discussion of immediate premises
(cf., St. Thomas' explanation for this, op. cit., lect. 5, n. 9) .
10 EDWARD D. SIMMONS
St. Thomas speaks of these " basic truths " as per se nota
propositions. Although this is an apt expression, there is some
danger of confusion here. First of all, St. Thomas may some-
times use the term per se nota of a proposition which is not
evident in the way in which the basic truths of demonstration
are self-evident." Secondly, St. Thomas frequently speaks of
the modes of perseity (the modi dicendi per se) ,^" and, despite
the terminological suggestion to the contrary, it is not true that
whenever we have a proposition which involves a mode of
perseity we have a per se nota or self-evident proposition.
These points will have to be clarified before we are through.
For the premises of demonstration to be at all they must
be true, for the esse of a proposition is an esse verum. For
them to be principles of manifestation for the scientific con-
clusion they must be necessarily true, for necessity is of the
essence of science. And for them to be basic truths, that is
absolute premises, the premises of demonstration must be, at
least reductively, imviediate propositions. Here is precisely
where the scientific proposition differs from its pre-scientific
principle. The scientific proposition is necessarily true, and it
is a conclusion. The scientific principle is necessarily true, but
it can be (ultimately) in no sense a conclusion. The conclusion
of a syllogism is characteristically mediate, for the connection
between its extremes is manifested in a syllogism by way of a
term commonly identified with both extremes, thus functioning
as a middle. The basic truths of syllogism or the absolute
premises must themselves be evident without a middle. The
predicate must belong immediately to the subject lest we admit
the infinite regress which would make deduction totally ineffec-
tive. Two things, at least, should be pointed out here. First of
all, there is a significant and not unrelated use of the term
" immediate " which is not intended at this point. For example,
having three angles equal to two right angles is necessarily
^^ In II Pkys., lect. 1, n. 8: " Naturam autem esse, est per se notum, in quantum
naturalia sunt manifesta sensui."
" Cf., In I Post. Anal., lect. 10; In II De Anima, lect. 14, n. 401; In V Met., lect.
19, nn. 1054-1057.
DEMONSTRATION AND SELF-EVIDENCE 11
true of both triangle and isosceles triangle. But it is true of
isosceles triangle only insofar as isosceles triangle is triangle.
Thus we might well say that this property belongs immediately
to triangle and mediately (through triangle) to isosceles triangle.
However, the proposition Every triangle has three angles equal
to two right angles can be demonstrated as the conclusion of a
syllogism employing the essential definition of triangle as its
middle term. Insofar as it is able to be proven through a middle,
it is clearly not immediate in the sense in which self-evident
propositions are immediate. " Immediate " here means, rather,
commensurately universal or convertible {primo or possessed
of the intention spoken of as did ut universale) . As a matter
of fact, not every proposition which is commensurately uni-
versal is self-evident and not every self-evident proposition is
commensurately universal.^^ Secondly, even though we under-
stand the self-evident proposition to be immediate in such wise
as to lack a demonstrative middle, it is not the case that every
proposition which is immediate in this sense is self-evident.
A self-evident proposition is a proposition with a subject and
a predicate in necessary matter, and with a subject and predi-
cate so proximately connected with one another that the
necessary truth of the proposition can escape no one who
understands this subject and predicate. Hence, propositions are
said to be self-evident precisely insofar as they can be seen
necessarily to be true once their terms are known. ^* These
'^^For St. Thomas' position on the did ut universale, cf., In I Post. Anal., lect. 11.
We shall see that the prime instance of the self-evident proposition has a predicate
which is of the definition of the subject. If the predicate is the whole of the
definition of the subject it is, of course, convertible with the subject, and we have
a commensurately universal proposition. Every man is capable of speech is com-
mensurately universal without being self-evident, and Every man is animal is self-
evident without being commensurately universal.
^* Only this type of proposition is so necessarily true, while being at the same
time immediate, that it can ground the necessity of a scientific conclusion. In IV
Met., lect. 5, n. 595: "Ad huius autem evidentiam sciendum, quod propositiones
per se notae sunt, quae statim notis terminis cognoscuntur. . . ." De Mala, q. 3,
a. 3, c: " Unde intellectus ex necessitate assentit principiis primis naturaliter
notis. . . . Unde in intellectu contingit quod ea quae necessariam cohaerentiam
habent cum primis principiis naturaliter cognitis, ex necessitate moveant intellectum,
12 EDWARD D. SIMMONS
propositions are not totally non-empirical, for, as we shall note,
they are known by way of an immediate induction from sensible
data. Yet they do not depend directly upon empirical data
for verification. Assent to them is founded upon an intelligi-
bility built into them such that it is impossible to think the
opposite. Thus, if one understands the meanings of the terms
in the proposition The whole is greater than any of its parts
one immediately assents to this proposition quite apart from
the existence of this or that sensibly existing whole or part.
The motive for assent is, in a sense, built into the proposition
itself. The self-evident proposition is immediate because it
looks to no prior proposition for its evidence, but there are
propositions which are evident in this way without being self
evident. These are the factually evident propositions which
are true, because they report accurately on the way things
happen in fact to be, whether they could be otherwise or not.
Examples of propositions like this are This pencil is yellow,
The weather is pleasant today, and / feel great. These proposi-
tions are immediate since they do not depend on prior proposi-
tions to manifest their truth. The evidence for them is found
immediately in the factual situation. Insofar as a factually
evident proposition is formally characterized by its commit-
ment to what happens to be the case, the factually evident
proposition cannot intend the necessity needed for an absolute
premise of demonstration. Thus, though each is immediate,
the factually evident proposition differs radically from the self-
evident proposition.^^ In the Commentary on the Physics St.
sicut conclusiones demonstratae, quando apparent; quae si negentur, oportet negari
prima principia, ex quibus ex necessitate consequuntur." Cf., among other texts
of this type, In I Post. Anal, lect. 5; lect. 19; De Ver., q. 11, a. 1; Stimma, I, q. 17,
a. 3 ad 2; q. 82, a. 2; q. 85, a. 6; De Malo, q. 16, a. 7 ad 18; Quodl., VIII, a. 4.
^^ What I refer to as the " factually evident " proposition is usually spoken of
simply as " evident," but since the self-evident is (at least) evident it seems better
to use a more determinate expression. There is nothing highly sophisticated intended
by my use of " factually," despite the fact that the word " fact " does frequently
take on a very specialized meaning in philosophical discussion. Note that none of
my examples involves necessary matter in any sense. This helps to make the notion
of the factually evident quite clear. Nonetheless it seems to me that This whole
DEMONSTRATION AND SELF-EVIDENCE 13
Thomas says that it is 'per se notuvi that nature exists because
natural things are manifest to the sense /"^ Natural things exist
is an immediate proposition. But it is not self-evident — for,
since natural things are existentially contingent and need not
be, we cannot assent to the proposition Natural things exist
simply because we understand the meaning of its terms. It is
immediately evident only on the basis of the empirical fact
unmistakably given in our sensory-intellectual grasp of the exis-
tence of sensible existents immediately present to the external
sense. This is clearly a factually evident proposition. It is of
significant relevance for the philosophy of nature, but it is not
relevant in the way in which a self-evident proposition is
relevant,^^ despite the fact that St. Thomas describes it as per
se nota. One more clarification at this point. The immediacy
of the self-evident proposition makes it indemonstrable. But
not all indemonstrable propositions are immediate (consider
conclusions of dialectical or probable argumentation) . Nor
even, of course, are all immediate and indemonstrable proposi-
is greater than its parts can be taken as a proposition which intends simply a
report on a concrete situation. As such this is factually evident, and it is not the
same as the proposition Every whole is such that it must be greater than any of
its parts. This second proposition is, of course, self-evident, and it is certainly
known by anyone who can express the former proposition (because the terms which
must be known in order that the former be expressed immediately make evident the
latter) . Although the most perfect instance of propter quid demonstration involves
two premises each of which is self-evident, there is no reason why less strict
demonstration cannot include one factually evident premise. The necessity needed
in the antecedent of a demonstration would be lacking if every premise were
factually evident, but it can be supplied by one self-evident proposition coupled
with a factually evident premise. As a matter of fact, demonstration makes sense
only in reference to scientific subjects known to exist. "Where both premises are
self-evident it is a requirement that the existence of the scientific subject be known
prior to demonstration and presumed within demonstration. The existence of the
scientific subject can be expressed within a demonstration when one of its premises
is factually evident,
^* Cf., supra, note 11.
^^ There would be no reason for a philosophy of nature if natural things did not
exist; but since they need not exist, the proposition which reports on the fact of
their existence cannot be used as a necessary premise manifesting the scientific
necessity of any conclusion.
14 EDWARD D, SIMMONS
tions self-evident (consider the examples given above for the
factually evident proposition) . Certainly true propositions in
contingent matter are indemonstrable because of a deficiency
in matter. Self-evident propositions are always in necessary
matter, and their indemonstrability springs from their excel-
lence rather than from some deficiency in matter. Demonstra-
tion makes evident something which is not already evident.
To be demonstrable entails a privation. Because they are
evident in themselves, self-evident propositions do not have
this privation.^^
Self-evident propositions are necessarily true and immediate.
This makes them at once primary: they have no propositions
prior to them (upon which they depend for evidence) , and
they are presupposed to the mediate propositions which look to
them for evidence. Insofar as they supply evidence for these
mediate propositions they cause them to be conclusions. And
they can be related to the conclusion as cause to effect only
insofar as they are prior to and better known than the conclu-
sion. The " basic truths of syllogism " are basic insofar as they
admit of no prior propositions necessary to make them evident.
They are truths of the syllogism insofar as they are principles
from which conclusions can be generated.
III. The Types of Self-evident Proposition
We have noted that a self-evident proposition is one which
is known to be necessarily true once its terms are understood.
The most perfect instance of this is found in the proposition
in which the predicate is of the definition of the subject.^^ Once
^* Though scientific or demonstrated knowledge is spoken of as perfect knowledge
(cf., In I Post. Anal., led. 4, n. 5) , it is clear that it is inferior to the pre-scientific
absolute premises of demonstration.
^* Summa, I, q. 17, a. 3 ad 2: " Nam principia per se nota sunt ilia quae statim
intellectis terminis cognoscuntur ex eo quod praedicatum ponitur in definitione
subiecti." As Cajetan points out in his Commentary on the Posterior Analytics
(Book I, Ch. 19) , St. Thomas does not intend in texts such as this one strictly
to define the self-evident proposition but to manifest the principal case. An
example of a self-evident proposition which does not have its predicate within the
definition of its subject is Every rational animal is capable of speech.
DEMONSTRATION AND SELF-EVIDENCE 15
the subject is understood in its definition the identity of subject
and predicate is grasped, and the intellect is moved to commit
itself irrevocably to the truth of the proposition. If a proposi-
tion has a predicate within the definition of its subject, but
this subject defies definition by any man, then this proposition
can be described as self-evident in itself, but not self-evident
to us. If, on the other hand, its subject can be defined by us,
it is self-evident both in itself and to us. If the subject is able
to be defined only by those who are habituated to operate
within a given scientific field, the proposition is said to be self-
evident only to the learned. But if is is a common concept
understood by every one, it is, of course, self-evident to all.
Thus, it is rather easy to see, at least apropos of the prime
type of self-evident proposition, the rationale of the traditional
division of the "per se nota proposition into the 'per se nota in
se and the per se nota quoad nos, and the subdivision of the
latter into the per se nota quoad sapientes and the per se nota
quoad omnes.-°
St. Thomas appeals to the fact that the proposition God is
is not self-evident quoad nos even though it is self-evident in
itself."^ Were we to know the essence of God we could not —
nor would we need to — demonstrate His existence, for His
essence is His existence. Yet, since we do not know His essence
we are able from His effects, which are known to us, to
prove His existence. Aristotle and St. Thomas supply several
examples of per se nota propositions which are known to all
because their terms are common conceptions easily and surely
grasped by all men. These examples include: The sanfie thing
cannot he and not he; The same proposition does not admit
simultaneously of affirmation and denial; The whole is greater
than any of its parts; Things equal to one and the same thing
are equal to one another; Equals taken away from equals leave
^° This traditional division of the self-evident proposition is explained by St.
Thomas in several texts, including: De Ver., q. 10, a. 12; In IV Met., lect. 5, n. 595;
In I Post. Anal., lect. 5, nn. 6-7; In Boeth. de Hebd., lect. 1. Cf., also Cajetan,
op. cit., Ch. 3.
*^ Summa, I, q. 2, a. 1; De Ver., q. 10, a. 12.
16 EDWARD D. SIMMONS
equals.'^ These propositions are called dignitates or axioms
because they are the absolutely ultimate and common prin-
ciples which guarantee the integrity of all discourse and into
which all discourse is resolved. Discourse would be impossible
for anyone ignorant of these axioms. Propositions per se nota
quoad sapientes are related to the axioms as the proper is
related to the common. They can be known only by the
learned because the terms involved are more deteiTuinate than
the common notions which alone are able to be understood by
the academically unskilled. St. Thomas illustrates this by
suggesting the proposition All right angles are equal. This is a
proposition which is immediately evident only to one who
knows that equality enters into the definition of right angle;
and this is a definition, of course, which escapes the knowledge
of many. Another example which is traditionally offered is the
proposition Incorporeal substances are not situated in place.
We can add to these any proposition in which the essential
definition or some part of it is predicated of a specific subject,
such as Every man is a rational animal. A proposition of this
type is known as a positio or thesis."^ The axioms are necessary
if we are to demonstrate in any scientific area, but the theses
proper to a given area are necessary only for demonstrations
properly within this area. Axioms may or may not be used
explicitly as premises in demonstration, but theses are principles
of demonstration only if they appear explicity as premises.
Axioms can be distinguished generally into those which are
ontological in character (e. g., the principle of identity) and
those which are logical in character (e. g., the principle of
contradiction) . Those which are ontological in character are
^^/ra 1 Post. Anal., lect. 5, n. 7; In IV Met., lect. 5, n. 595.
"^ St. Thomas considers the division of the immediate principles of demonstration
especially in lessons 5, 18, and 19 in the first book of his Commentary on the
Posterior Analytics. We have already noted the inclusion of definition as a principle
(although incomplex) of demonstration. St. Thomas also speaks of a proposition
taken as though it were immediate in one science, but proved in another (lect. 5,
n. 7) . This proposition is called a suppositio or hypothesis. We are not concerned
properly with this proposition in this paper.
DEMONSTRATION AND SELF-EVIDENCE 17
presupposed to any demonstration, even when they are not
explicitly expressed as premises, precisely because the knowl-
edge of proper concepts which is required for theses presupposes
and in a sense depends upon a prior grasp of common con-
cepts.^* Those which are logical in character function neces-
sarily as methodological principles which guarantee the integrity
of discourse without being built into it as doctrinal principles.
For example, the principle of contradiction is an absolutely
common methodological principle without which there could be
no discourse at all. No proposition can function properly as a
principle of demonstration except that it be firmly accepted
that the affirmation of its opposite is excluded in the face of its
own affirmation.^^ Of course axioms of an ontological character
(when illumined by the light of metaphysical abstraction) can
be used as premises in metaphysical discourse, just as axioms
of a logical character must be built into proofs in logical theory
as explicit premises. The reason for this is that metaphysics
and logic are common sciences, so that the principles common
to the other sciences are proper to them. As a matter of fact,
these common propositions can even be used as explicit pre-
mises in the particular sciences, though here they become
principles of dialectical rather than demonstrative discourse .^^
** Consider the relation of being to all other concepts. De Ver., q. 1, a. 1, resp.:
" Elud autem quod primo intellectus concipit quasi notissimum, et in quo omnes
conceptiones resolvit, est ens; " In III Met., lect. 5. Cf. Cajetan, Comm. In De
Ente et Essentia, q. 1.
"^ In IV Met., lect. 6, n. 603: " Si igitur quis opinetur simul duo contradictoria
esse vera, opinando simul idem esse et non esse, habebit simul contrarias opiniones:
et ita contraria simul inerunt eidem, quod est impossibile. Non igitur contingit
aliquem circa haec interius mentiri et quod opinetur simul idem esse et non esse.
Et propter hoc omnes demonstrationes reducunt suas propositiones in hanc proposi-
tionem, sicut in ultimam opinionem omnibus communem: ipsa enim est naturaliter
principium et dignitas omnium dignitatum." Cf., also In I Post. Anal., lect. 6, n. 7.
^' Though the direct use of logic is methodological, supplying either the rules of
demonstrative or dialectical discourse, logic can, along with metaphysics, because
of the correlatively common character of the formal subjects of each, supply
premises for argumentation in the particular sciences. Since demonstration requires
premises appropriate to the conclusion, the argumentation in some particular science
with a premise from metaphysics or logic will be dialectical at best.
18 EDWARD D. SIMMONS
IV. The Genesis of the Self-evident Proposition
As St. Thomas teaches, the self-evident absolute premises
from which scientific conclusions are generated are natural to
the human intellect.-^ However, this does not mean, on the
one hand, that they are possessed from the very start as fully
formed conceptions dependent in no sense upon experience or,
on the other, that they are no more than mental constructs
fabricated by the intellect totally out of its own " stuff." In
the final lesson of his Commentary on the Posterior Analytics
St. Thomas finds fault with those who suggest that we already
possess the principles but do not know this from the beginning.
This is absurd since the principles of demonstration must be
better known than the conclusions they generate, and it is
impossible to know demonstratively and not be aware of this.
St. Thomas also disputes with those who say that self-evident
propositions arise in us from nothing. Experience indicates and
reason demands that they come from something. But they
cannot come from prior intellectual knowledge, for then they
would not be immediate. They are generated from previous
sense knowledge by way of an immediate induction."^ However,
to say this is not to imply that they are easily achieved. ^^ This
is simply not the case for the large majority of self-evident
"'' Summa, I, q. 117, a. 1: " Inest enim unicuique horaini quoddam principium
scientiae, scilicet lumen intellectus agentis, per quod cognoscuntur statim a principio
naturaliter quaedam universalia principia omnium scientiarum."
"® I say immediate induction to distinguish this from the mediate induction of a
conclusion whose evidence is supplied by a sufficient enumeration of singulars.
^' Our students seem to be easily misled into identifying the self-evident with the
easily understood. This may be because in our classroom approach to them our
examples of the self-evident proposition are almost exclusively axioms which are
self-evident to all (e. g., The whole is greater than any one of its parts.) , or it may
be because of a tendency on the part of a student to give a psychologically sub-
jective reading to what must be understood objectively (i. e., to think " self-
evident " means evident to myself rather than in itself) . This confusion is not
limited to our students. For example, Joseph Brennan, in The Meaning of Phi-
losophy (New York: Harper and Bros., 1953) , p. 94, suggests two meanings to
" self-evident," namely, indemonstrable or completely clear to m,e. That the type-
writer I am using is gray is both indemonstrable and completely clear to me. But
it is in no sense self-evident.
DEMONSTRATION AND SELF-EVIDENCE 19
propositions. It takes a sufficient experience (spoken of by
St. Thomas as an experimentum which comes about from many
memories) ^° of the singular manifestations of a universally
necessary truth before we are ready to penetrate beyond the
accidentals of these singulars to the underlying necessity. This
experimeiituvi is not always easily achieved. And the intuitive
insight (into the necessity potentially in the expeiimentum)
effected by the possible intellect through the light of the agent
intellect is difficult as a matter of course. More often than not,
it seems, propositions which are self-evident in themselves are
not seen to be self-evident by us; and when they are, it is only
by way of a tremendously difficult dialectical procedure. ^^
To grasp the truth of a self-evident proposition one must first
grasp the meaning of the terms involved. Hence, the search for
^"In II Post. Anal., lect. 20, n. 11; In IV Met., lect. 6, n. 599.
^^ Thus far I have used the expression " dialectical " to refer to probable argu-
mentation. This type of dialectical discourse is supplementary to demonstration.
We can also speak of a pre-demonstrative dialectic — which prepares the way for
demonstration by manifesting the absolute premises of demonstration. This is the
way the term is used here. There is no question of a proof, in any strict sense of
the word, for a self-evident proposition. Assent to the self-evident proposition
depends upon and comes with an insight into the intrinsic intelligibility of the
proposition itself. The assent is automatic with the insight, but the insight may be
difficult to achieve. The way to insight may require long and complicated discourse
involving division, defuiition, and even argumentation. For example, one typical
dialectical device for manifesting the truth of a self-evident proposition is the
reduction of its contradiction to absurdity. (Cf. In III Met., lect. 5, n. 392.) The
important point is that once the threshhold of insight is achieved the assent is made
in virtue of the intrinsic intelligibOity of the proposition itself. The dialectic is a
scaffolding which can now be torn down, for it is not needed as a defense of the
self-evident proposition once seen (no matter how instrumental it might in fact
have been prior to msight) . Here precisely is where the immediate induction of the
principles of demonstration differs from the mediate induction of a conclusion from
a sufficient enumeration of singulars. The induced conclusion is assented to precisely
in vhtue of the enumeration of singulars and cannot be known without pointing to
them for evidence. This is not the case for the induced principle. No matter how
many singular wholes and parts have to be observed before a man sees into the
meaning of whole and part so that he knows the whole must be greater than its
parts, the proposition is seen to be true independently of each and all of these
singular wholes and parts. (In III Sent., d. 24, q. 1, a. 2, q. 1 ad 2: " Termini
principiorum natm'aliter notorum sunt comprehensibles nostro intellectui: ideo
cognitio quae consurgit de illis principiis, est visio. . . .")
20 EDWARD D. SIMMONS
self-evident propositions is at least as difficult as the search
for definitions. Cajetan suggests that it is more difficult than
this. At the end of his Cornmentary on the Posterior Analytics
he discusses the induction of the per se nota proposition. He
contends that induction is necessary, not only as the source of
the incomplex terms of the complex principles, but that it is
necessary as well for the composition of these terms in the
proposition. He argues that we would not know that equals
taken from equals leave equals if we knew only the meaning
of " equal," " to be taken from " and " to leave." For this
reason he holds that for the genesis of this self-evident proposi-
tion there must be induction, not only of the meanings of the
terms, but even of their conjunction in this proposition. In some
texts at least, as we have seen, St. Thomas indicates that the
induction of the terms is sufficient for the intellectual grasp of
first principles. Appeal to personal experience, after the sug-
gestion of Cajetan, seems to indicate that sometimes the induc-
tion of the terms alone suffices (as, for example, with the self-
evident proposition Every man is a rational animal) , and that
sometimes more is required (as in the example cited by
Cajetan) .
The self-evident proposition is not simply a report on a
factual situation. Yet it is not a priori, and it does have an
empirical reference. If it were not the case that some things
happen to be such and such precisely because they cannot be
and not be such and such, we would never grasp the self-evident
proposition. It is only through sufficient contact with the
things in question that an insight into the necessity which
dictates the facts (that is, the way in which these things are)
is achieved. ^^ It is true that we can be sure that the whole is
greater than any of its parts even though we are not presently
confronted by a concrete whole and its parts. The truth of
this proposition is guaranteed by the very meanings of whole
'"There is no intention here to suggest that all facts are necessitated. I refer
simply to the necessity that belongs to those facts which are necessary (e. g., that
this whole is greater than its parts) .
DEMONSTRATION AND SELF-EVIDENCE 21
and part. Still I would never know the meaning of whole and
part if I never knew any concrete whole and its parts. And,
what is more important, there is no intelligibility at all to
whole or part except that there are (at least possibly) con-
cretely existing wholes and parts. The whole is greater than
any of its parts precisely because that's the way wholes and
parts are. For every whole and its parts there is the fact that
this whole happens to be greater than each of its parts — and
behind this fact is the necessity which demands it, a necessity
which is one with the intelligible structure of whole and part.
The fact and the necessity which dictates it are equally real.
Yet they differ. The fact is incommunicable, and it alone can
be expressed in a factually evident proposition. The necessity
behind the fact is impervious to sense. Yet it is potentially
in what is sensed (and in what is reported on in a factually
evident proposition) , and it is, of course, fundamentally uni-
versal. It can be known only by an intuitive insight which is
the result of an abstractive induction, and when known it is
expressed in a formally universal proposition. The self-evident
proposition comes into being only when it is inductively
achieved from an experience of singulars — and it is meaningful
only insofar as it bears finally upon singulars. However, the
self-evident proposition is only materially dependent on experi-
ence for its verification. It is directly verified in its own
intrinsic intelligibility, which precludes the possibility even of
conceiving the opposite.
V. Per Se Nota and Modi Dicendi Per Se
There is a temptation to identify per se nota or self-evident
propositions with propositions involving a modus dicendi per
se or a mode of perseity. However, such an identification can
be seen to be erroneous once it is noted that the conclusion
of a strict propter quid demonstration involves the second mode
of perseity. As conclusion, and not premise, the proposition in
the second mode of perseity is obviously not a self-evident
proposition. Hence, not every per se proposition is per se nota
22 EDWARD D. SIMMONS
or self-evident. The modes of perseity of concern to us here
are the first, second, and fourth. A proposition involves the
first mode of perseity when its predicate falls in the definition
of its subject, the second when its subject falls in the definition
of its predicate, and the fourth when the subject is related to
the predicate as a necessary and proper cause .^^ In a strict
"propter quid demonstration the major premise has the fourth
mode of perseity (e. g., Evei-y rational animal is capable of
speech) , the minor premise the first mode of perseity (e. g.,
Every man is a rational animal) , and the conclusion the second
mode of perseity (e. g.. Every man is capable of speech) .^*
" Per se " here indicates an essential rather than accidental
connection between subject and predicate, and it refers exclu-
sively to the objective structure of the propositions. Per se
nota, on the other hand, refers rather to intelligible structure
apropos of our knowledge of it, i. e., with or without a middle
term, on the basis of intrinsic intelligibility or empirical data) .
A per se nota proposition is one known immediately on the basis
of its intrinsic intelligibility. Every proposition (including the
conclusion) in a strict propter quid demonstration must be per
se, but only the premises must (and can) be per se nota.
Yet the case of the proposition in the second mode of perseity
cannot be easily disposed of. True enough, as conclusion this
proposition cannot be self-evident — at least not to us. But
why isn't it self-evident to us? And is it, while not self-evident
to us, self-evident in itself .^^ It is necessary prior to demonstra-
tion that we know something about the subject and predicate
of our conclusion and about the premises from which the con-
clusion is generated — that they are and/or what they are.
Concerning the predicate of the conclusion, namely, the proper
^^ Cf., sufra, note 12.
'* In I Post. Anal., lect. 13, n. 3: " Sciendum autem est quod cum in demonstra-
tione probetur passio de subiecto per medium, quod est definitio, oportet quod prima
propositio, cuius praedicatum est passio et subiectum est definitio, quae continet
principia passionis, sit per se in quarto modo; secunda autem, cuius subiectum est
ipsum subiectum et predicatum ipsa definitio in primo modo. Conclusio vero, in
qua praedicatur passio de subiecto, est per se in secunda modo."
DEMONSTRATION AND SELF-EVIDENCE 23
passion to be proven of the scientific subject, we must know
only its nominal definition. In fact we cannot, prior to
demonstration, know its essential definition, for this is what is
to be proved. To know, prior to demonstration, the essential
definition of the proper passion in the demonstration, is to
know its inherence in its proper subject (i. e., the scientific
subject of this demonstration) , for the proper subject is in-
cluded in the essential definition of the passion .^^ It would seem
that a proposition "per se in the second mode, with a proper
passion predicated of its subject, is self-evident in itself, since
the subject itself is in the definition of the predicate, but not
self-evident to us, precisely because we fail to understand the
essential definition of the passion short of demonstration.
Cajetan seems to agree with this position, for when he points
out that the per se nota proposition whose predicate falls into
the definition of its subject is only the principal type of per
se nota proposition, he adds a second type in which a passion
is said of its proper subject.^® If this type of proposition is self-
evident it cannot be self-evident secundum nos, since it can
be demonstrated, but in se tantum. Suppose this is the case,
why should it be that this is per se nota only in se? The reason
may be found in the type of causality exercised by the proper
subject in reference to its proper passion. This is at least
material causality, and in the case of the second mode of
perseity it is precisely material causality which is actually
involved." But matter as such is not proportioned to manifest.
The connection between the subject and its property is mani-
fested to us only by way of the form which is implied by the
subject and which is the active cause of this property. The
conclusion can be said to be virtually in the fourth mode of
perseity because its subject implies this form. It is only in
explicating this in the propter quid demonstration that we see
"" Ibid., lect. 2.
'' Catejan, In I Post. Anal, Ch. 19.
" In I Post, Anal., lect, 10, n. 4.
24 EDWARD D. SIMMONS
the necessary (but not, to us at least, immediate) connection
between the subject and its property .^^
IV. In Conclusion
At the very beginning of the Posterior Analytics Aristotle
faces up to the famous dilemma of Meno. How can one ever
be said to learn anything? Either he already knows what he
learns — and this is not learning. Or he is ignorant of what he
seeks to learn and thus cannot recognize it when he does come
upon it — so that learning is impossible. ^^ The difficulty reminds
us of the Parmenidean dilemma apropos of motion. Aristotle,
of course, defends the possibility of motion by introducing the
** There is, of course, no difPerence between the major premise in the strict type
of propter quid demonstration and its conclusion unless there is a difference between
the fourth mode of perseity and the second mode of perseity. And there is no
difference here unless there is a difference between a real definition and the thing it
defines. There can be, of course, no difference in re between the definition and the
thing defined, so that the distinction between them must be a distinction of the
reason rather than a real distinction. There is not even a foundation in the real for
this distinction, so that it cannot be said to be a virtual logical distinction. Yet it
must be more than the distinction exemplified between subject and predicate in the
proposition John is John, for this is sheer tautology. If the definition and what it
defines do not differ somehow as objects so that a proposition in the first mode of
perseity is more than a tautology, then the prime instance of the per se nota
proposition loses its significance and ceases to function meaningfully as an absolute
premise at the same time that the major premise and conclusion of the strict type
of propter quid demonstration became formally identical. This is, quite clearly, the
death of demonstration. There is, however, a legitimate distinction to be made
between the definition and what it defines. True, there is no advance in knowledge
from thing to thing in defining. But there is in the definition a more perfect (clear
and distinct) grasp of something known obscurely and confusedly prior to definition.
This is enough to make the definition, from the point of view of the manner in
which it is conceived, an object different from the defined; though, in itself, it
remains identically the defined. This in turn is enough to make the per se nota
proposition whose predicate is of the definition of the subject something more than
tautologous. It is enough to guarantee a difference between the major and con-
clusion in the strict propter quid demonstration, and thus to guarantee the advance
in knowledge without which demonstration would be meaningless. Cf. Simon et al,
op. cit., note 14, p. 618; McArthur, Ronald, "A Note on Demonstration," The New
Scholasticism, XXXlV (1960), pp. 43-61; and especially Cajetan, In I Post. Anal.,
ch. 3.
^» Plato, Meno, 80D-86D.
DEMONSTRATION AND SELF-EVIDENCE 25
notion of potential being (which in a sense represents a middle
ground between being simpliciter and non-being simpliciter) .
In a similar fashion he defends the integrity of discourse by-
introducing the notion of the self-evident proposition. Self-
evident propositions are the basic truths of demonstration, and
in them scientific conclusions exist in potency. The demonstra-
tive movement represents a true advance in knowledge from
the potentiality of the scientific conclusion to its actuality.
Prior to discourse the conclusion is not known simpliciter; but
at the same time it is not unknown simpliciter. It is potentially
known in its principles. The actual grasp of the self-evident
proposition is the potential grasp of the scientific conclusions
virtually contained therein. The premises of demonstration —
taken as premises, that is, seen together to involve a middle
term — function after the fashion of efficient causes which
actuate the potentiality of the conclusion and make it be.^°
The whole of the Posterior Analytics is concerned to investigate
the logical vehicle (namely, demonstraton) which brings us
from the self-evident principles to our scientific conclusions.
In the first book demonstration and its types and properties
are investigated. The second book concentrates on definition
precisely as the medium of demonstration. Quite significantly
the last chapter of this second book — which completes the
Posterior Analytics — comes full round to the topic of the very
first chapter. Meno's dilemma is absolved in terms of the uni-
versally necessary and immediate basic principles of discourse.
Scientific conclusions are truly conclusions insofar as they are
different from these basic truths but are generated from them.
They are truly scientific insofar as the basic truths of discourse
into which they are resolved are primary and incontrovertible
affirmations of the real. Upon the integrity of these basic truths
or principles of demonstration depend the integrity of demon-
*" Quodl., Vni, a. 4; " Insunt enim nobis naturaliter quaedam principia primo com-
plexa omnibus nota, ex quibus ratio procedit ad cognoscendum in actu conclusiones
quae in praedictis principiis potentialiter continentur. . . ." Cf., also De Ver., q. 11,
a. 1; Surmna, I, q. 117, a. 1.
26 EDWARD D. SIMMONS
stralion and the worth of its conclusions. Thus, in this final
chapter, Aristotle defends the integrity of the principles them-
selves in terms of an intuitive induction from the incontro-
vertible data of sense experience. St. Thomas points out that
the difference between dialectical discourse and demonstration
is the difference between unterminated and terminated dis-
course.'*^ The dialectician falls short of being a scientist pre-
cisely because dialectical conclusions are not finally grounded
in the real. The dialectical method can be referred to as a
" rational method " precisely insofar as its conclusions remain
within the reason. The demonstrative method is the method
of science because it grounds its conclusions necessarily in the
real — and it does this insofar as it resolves them into self-
evident propositions. There is no science save that there be
a rational progression from principles to scientific conclusions.
Thus the scientific intellect is of necessity a ratio. But, at the
same time, there is no science save that there be an intuition of
basic principles — so that the scientific intellect is also an
intellectus.^^ Demonstration may be an instrument of the
intellect as reason, but there can be no meaningful theory of
demonstration save that the per se nota proposition, itself
properly the object of intellect as intellect, be significantly a
part of that theory.
Edward D. Simmons
Marquette University,
Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
^^ In Boeth. de Trin., q. 6, a. 1 ad 1: "Alio modo dicitur processus rationalis ex
termino, in quo sistitur procedendo. Ultimus enim terminus, ad quem rationis
inquisitio perducere debet, est intelleclus principiorum, in quae resolvendo iudicamus;
quod quidem quando fit, non dicitur processus vel probatio rationabilis, sed demon-
stratio. Quandoque autem inquisitio rationis non potest usque ad ultimum terminum
perduci, sed sistitur in ipsa inquisitione, quando per probabiles rationes proceditur,
quae natae sunt facere opinionem vel fidem, non scientiam, et sic rationabilis pro-
cessus dividitur contra demonstrativum."
*^ Summa, I-II, q. 57, a. 2: " Verum autem est dupliciter considerabile; uno modo,
sicut per se notum; alio modo, sicut per aliud notum. Quod autem est per se notum,
se habet ut principium, et percipitur statim ab intellectu; et ideo habitus perficiens
intellectum ad huiusmodi veri considerationem vocatur intellectus qui est habitus
principiorum." In Boeth. de Trin., q. 6, a. 1 ad 1: "Ultimus enim terminus, ad
quem rationis inquisitio perducere debet, est intellectus principiorum, in quae
resolvendo iudicamus. ..."
THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE UNIVERSAL
UT NUNC
(TfO
IN his commentary on the Posterior Analytics of Aristotle,
St. Thomas notes that did de omni, sometimes translated
as " true in every instance," is treated differently in the
Posterior Analytics from the way it is in the Prior Analytics.
In the latter work, which is concerned with the form of the syllo-
gism and therefore with what is common to any syllogism, did
de omni is treated only commonly, disregarding the differences
attaching to a demonstrative or dialectical use. In this context,
it is enough to say that did de omni is realized whenever the
predicate is found to be in each of those things which are con-
tained under the subject. Once, however, we begin to consider
the syllogism on the part of matter, we must say more about
did de omni. Hence, immediately after saying that the predi-
cate is found in each of those things which are contained under
the subject, St. Thomas adds: " This can happen either ut nunc,
and in this way the dialectician sometimes uses did de omni,
or absolutely and for all time, and in this way only the demon-
strator uses it." ^
In discussing the ancient and medieval theory of universals,
we are apt to overlook this distinction between the verified did
de omni and the provisional one called universal ut nunc, and
we tend to ignore the importance the latter has as a tool
particularly for the investigation of nature. An example of the
verified did de omni was the common property of every para-
bolic triangle, ' to have its three angles equal to two right
angles.' An instance of the universal ut nunc was ' white '
predicated as a common property of swans. The former
property was based upon a propter quid demonstration; the
latter was based upon, or rather derived from, an incomplete
^ " Hoc autem contingit vel ut nunc, et sic utitur quandoque did de omni dia-
lecticus; vel dmpliciter et secundum omne tempus, et sic solum utitur eo demon-
strator." In I Post. Anal., lect. 9, n. 4.
27
28 JOHN A. OESTERLE
induction: no one reporting about swans had ever seen a black
one.
We come therefore at once to the following question. Since
" white," as a common property, was not certain, why is it
that we could use the universally distributive ' all ' and say
that all swans are white? Why not use a roundabout expression
and state: " It appears that some, if not all, swans are white."
Or why not say, even more simply, " swan is white," as we say
" man is white." In this more simple way of putting the matter
we would be plainly predicating something of a universal
(" swan ") by reason of something found in one or some
individuals. The point then is whether this would be regarded
as a universal ut nunc, a universal " for the time being." Pre-
sumably not, for what we are aiming at is an enunciation like
" man is an animal," an essential predication. But why use
this mode of enunciation before it is warranted?
What we are in fact faced with is two distinct modes of
essential predication: a true one and a hypothetical one. What
is the foundation for this distinction? Why are hypothetically
essential predications required? Why not use unambiguous
circumlocutions that show the essential predication to be only
hypothetical? After all, many essential predications are in fact
no more than hypothetical.
To answer such questions — which in effect are one question —
about the distinction between true and hypothetical essential
predications, it will be opportune, first of all, to make a further
distinction by comparing the notion of " triangle " with what
we intend by " swan." We can define the first as to what it is,
namely a three straight-sided figure whose exterior angle is
equal to the two opposite interior angles. But what about
" swan "? We define, not the swan, but the name by pointing
to individual instances, or by describing the figure and habits
that set swans apart from chickens, turkeys, geese, and so on.
Now surely there must be in nature something that accounts
SIGNIFICANCE OF THE UNIVERSAL UT NUNC 29
for these differences. But' what is this exactly? As St. Thomas
says: " That nature is, is fer se known, insofar as natural
things are manifest to sense. But what the nature of any thing
is, or what its principle of motion, is not manifest." ^
Meanwhile, we have the name " swan " and whoever knows
this name, using it with the meaning agreed upon, does not
confuse swans with chickens or geese. Still, there may exist
somewhere, or there may have existed, some types of fowl
between swans and geese which could make us hesitate about
using the name to stand for what is assumed to be a definable
nature. The opposition of contradiction between " swan " and
" non-swan " is plain enough, but where and how it actually
applies may be uncertain. Such is the case whenever the
positive term referred to is imperfectly known. Lacking defini-
tive knowledge, we have agreed to use the word in a way that
is at least in practice meaningful. In the measure that certain
sensible signs set swans apart from other feathered creatures,
we are confident that our naming has some determinate basis
in nature, that swans do in fact have a nature. Just what this
is, however, we have to acknowledge that we do not know.
Let us recognize, however, that even if we knew exactly
what a swan is as we know what a plane triangle is, the term
" swan " by itself, apart from an enunciation, would be neither
true nor false. The same applies to the nominal definition of
the name, whether obtained by designation or by description
of what it stands for: " a large-bodied, web-footed water bird
of the genus Cygnus, having a long neck and sort legs placed
far back," etc. We can, of course, go further and state that
there are such animals. However, the truth of this statement
does not imply that we know exactly what a swan is. Accord-
ingly, we are forced to acknowledge a hiatus (a) between the
truth of the statement and the relative indetermination as to
what a swan is; (b) between the name itself, used to stand for
" Naturam autem esse, est per se notum, inquantum naturalia sunt manifesta
sensui. Sed quid sit uniuscujusque rei natura, vel quod principium motus, hoc non
est manifestum." In II Phys., lect. 1, n. 8.
30 JOHN A. OESTERLE
a universal that is predicable of certain individuals, and the way
it would signify if we knew, once and for all, just what a swan
is as we know what a plane triangle is. In other words, we can
name things before we know precisely what the thing is that
we name. The history of biology proves that what we had
long considered to be a species turns out to be a genus.
That simple naming, as distinguished from enunciation, does
not presume that we know exactly what it is that we name is
strikingly plain in the instance of the word " atom." It is taken
from the Greek " indivisible," in common usage. Democritus
imposed a further meaning upon it to signify what he believed
to be the indivisible elements of all things, differing from
one another by their geometrical figure. Dalton, for quite
different reasons, was led to an analogous conception, but his
minute spheres still retained the meaning of " indivisible."
Rutherford finally broke down these indivisibles, and they are
becoming unceasingly the opposite of what the name was first
intended to mean. The word " atom " continues to make
history, a history reflecting progress in our knowledge of the
basal entities of the physical world. But the original meaning
has dropped from sight, and the physicist will no longer refer
us to nature except most indirectly. He will explain what he
means when using this word by relating certain observations,
such as the Brownian movement, and operations of measure-
ment which led to interrelated measure-numbers permitting
him to establish equations, etc., which he then goes on to
explain in terms of hypotheses and theory that lead to further
experiments, etc. This elaborated understanding becomes very
atomic in one sense, if you will, but Democritus might well be
puzzled about his word " atom."
Of course, someone might say of Democritus that he did not
know what he was talking about, and the same of Dalton.
But of course they knew. What they were ignorant of was the
real import of what they said, which could be no more than
vague, as the history of science has proved. What we must
recognize is that there can be uncertainty, not only as to
SIGNIFICANCE OF THE UNIVERSAL UT NUNC 31
whether B belongs to A, or whether B is common to A and C,
or a commensurate property of B, but that there can also be
uncertainty concerning what the term A exactly stands for. If
A and B are known exactly, then their relationship can be
known exactly too. But if they are not known exactly for
what they are, their relationship will be proportionally vague
and provisional.
There is a difference, then, between a universal ut nunc as a
simple term, viz.. A, and as a subject or a property in an
enunciation, such as "All A is B." The following questions
remain open: "Is A.?" ''Is B.? " "Is AB.? " The first two
concern the bearing of the names: do these definite names refer
to something we know definitely? The answer to the other
question is obvious: the relation of A to B is either definitely
known or it is provisionally posited. Yet why should we posit
names and relations provisionally .^^ Why not wait until we
know the named exactly and, in the case of enunciation, until
we know the exact relation .^^
This brings us to the very heart of scientific method and
to the relevance of the theory of positing a universal " for the
time being " in the practice of science. We must, for the
time being, posit such universals and wait to see what happens
for having posited them. But let us not suppose that " to see
what happens " is merely a passive attitude. The very positing
must suggest an activity, a further induction or experimen-
tation, with attendant hypotheses and theory which give
further meaning to the original positing. To posit a universal
ut nunc is to advance something that not only requires further
testing but also suggests it.
Now had we confined ourselves to predicating something of
a universal nature (or of a quasi-universal nature) by reason
of what is verified in its inferior singulars, the matter would
be immediately closed and settled. For, if Socrates walks, we
are quite justified in saying that " man walks," and that's the
end of it. But if we say " man is an animal," this must be true
of every man, not just of this man. However, this mode of
32 JOHN A. OESTERLE
predication, as we have suggested, need not be reserved to
cases that are certain. Mere likeliness may suffice to posit
propositions in that mode, such as " man came about by
mutations that occurred in lower living beings," but they will
be 'posited and require further proof. In other words, the
universal ut nunc appears both in the order of simple appre-
hension and in the order of composition and division, with all
that this entails in the order of argumentation.
Now there is a further aspect to this type of universality.
It is, in a sense, pragmatic: we may have to do something
about it. This " doing " can mean a speculative operation, as
when we are inclined to believe that there is no last prime
number: the statement is a challenge that sets us on to attempt
a proof. But the doing may also be more strictly a practical
operation, such as experimentation, or careful isolation for
further induction. And this brings us face to face with an
important distinction. Suppose that we have laid down a
thermodynamic theory, which is a coordinated ensemble of
posits, and construct on the basis of it a machine that works.
Does this prove that the theory is true.^^ Pragmatically, it does.
It is in this sense that as to truth, scientific theories are in
the main pragmatic. But so far as sheer knowledge is con-
cerned, pragmatic proof can do no more than indicate that as
to speculative truth the theories are on the right track, that
we are moving in the direction of the truth, not that we possess
it. The whole point is, then, that we would not be moving on
toward the truth if we did not take the liberty of constructing
posits in the mode of universal terms and universal proposi-
tions for the immediate purpose of seeing what happens when
we do this.
If our mind had to confine itself to terms and propositions
that we know well and could only use these for further argu-
ment, there is very little that we could ever come to know.^
This would not only preclude advances in scientific knowing, but also in vast
areas of what we now regard as philosophy, for the " eternal truths " of philosophy
occupy a relatively small position in relation to the whole. Indeed, it might be said
SIGNIFICANCE OF THE UNIVERSAL " UT NUNC " 33
Tentatively we must go beyond what we know, starting from
hints, as it were, and then proceeding from what we have
posited as if it were true. It is as if, to move on, our mind
must come to rest, provisionally, in a myth, a verisimilitude,
and even in strictly logical fictions. But it must do so wittingly,
which is what it does in fact by recognizing the type of uni-
versality we are concerned with here as being no more than
ut nunc.
As we get closer to things in their concretion, the universals
that a defect of much scholastic philosophy, especially in the manual form, has
consisted in treating so many things as falling under dici de omni absolutely and
as though subject to rigorous demonstration. The great scholastics, however, were
never under such illusion. St. Albert, for instance, especially with respect to the sort
of knowledge we have in the investigation of nature, says the following:
" It is plain, then, from what has been pointedly considered in natural things,
that every definition or notion of natural forms is conceived with matter, which is
subject to motion or change or to both; and it must therefore be conceived with
time inasmuch as time is in the temporal thing. Because of this, much opinion is
involved in this sort of knowing, so that it cannot attain to the firm, constant and
necessary habit of science, as Ptolemy says." After contrasting the " doctrinal
sciences (mathematics) with such knowledge, St. Albert adds: ". . . the habits
acquired by the speculative intellect have been given the name of true science, and
are called doctrinal and teachable; and the reason is that they are taught from
unchanging principles, which the disciple receives from the teacher by sheer notifi-
cation of the terms, without need of experience, as Aristotle says in Book IV, but
by the teacher's simple demonstration the intellect of the disciple comes to rest;
hence it is that adolescents, without experience, can so often excel in these matters —
something which is in no way possible in the natural sciences, where experience is
of far greater account than doctrine by demonstration." In I Metaph., Tract. I,
cap. 1, (Borgnet, VI) pp. 1-2.
(Constat autem ex his quae subtiliter in naturis considerata sunt, omnem difRni-
tionem aut rationem formarum phj-^sicarum conceptam esse cum materia, quae motui
subjacet, aut mutationi, aut utrique; et ideo concipi oportet cam cum tempore
secundum quod tempus est in re temporali. Propter quod etiam id quod scitur de
hujusmodi, multum miscetur opinioni, et pertingere non potest ad confirmatum
constantem et necessarium scientiae habitum, sicut dicit Ptolemaeus. . . . habitus
per speculativum intellectum adepti verae scientiae nomen acceperunt, et doctrinales
et disciplinales vocantur, ideo quia ex principiis non mutantibus quae discipulus a
magistro non accepit nisi per terminorum notitias, docentur, experientia non indi-
gentes, ut dicit Aristoteles libro quarto, sed simplici demonstratione doctoris
constante intellectu discipuli: propter quod etiam juvenes inexperti ut plurimum
magis excellunt in ipsis: quod nullo modo possible fuit in physicis speculabilibus,
in quibus experientia multo plus confert quam doctrina per demonstrationem) .
34 JOHN A, OESTERLE
are more and more provisional in the sense that we deliberately
posit terms, vague and uncertain, which our mind is free to
invest with intentions of universality, and thereupon seek to
establish relations between those terms. Our mind has this
power because it can bring together things which in nature
are not 'per se connected, e. g., " man walks " or " man is
white." In these examples we do attain a truth, however, since
we do not mean that every man is walking or that every man is
white. But what we learn from such examples is that what
is accidentally one in nature can be brought together by the
intellect to form a proposition that is per se one as a proposi-
tion. Moreover, the mind can go further than that, and in
fact must do so, positing terms and bringing them together
for the purpose of getting behind the appearances upon which
our posits are based.*
Verisimilitude, either with respect to terms or with respect
to composition or division, is the proper basis of universality
ut nunc. By verisimilitude we mean that which may in fact
have no more than a resemblance to truth, a mere appearance
of it and recognized as being no more than that. This is enough
for our mind to reach out beyond what we really know, beyond
what is warranted. Actually, universality for the time being
keeps us within the bounds of the mind, as any opinion does,
so long as it is no more than opinion. But opinion, as dialectic
in general, has the nature of a tool, an organon, with respect
to truth. Constructed universals of the type v*^e are concerned
with (as distinguished from the relation of universality we may
tentatively invest them with) are logical organa. For dialectics
as logica utens does not go beyond the stage of instrumentality.
There is in all of this something of a paradox which we should
notice. The mind goes beyond what it really knows, but in
so doing it still remains within its own confines. How does this
occur.'^ A situation analogous to this is the one already noted,
of the mind's composing a proposition that is one per se about
* Aristotle was certainly aware of this procedure. See, for example, De Caelo, III,
chap. 7.
SIGNIFICANCE OF THE UNIVERSAL " UT NUNC " 35
something that is one only -per accidens. The per se one remains
within the mind, yet the mind is thereby enabled to say
something that is true, namely " man is white." However, at
best this is only an analogy, or perhaps only an example, of
the main point we have in mind. How does this main point
differ from the instance of the mind's composing as per se one
which is one only per accidens?
Let us try to bring out the difference by considering the
status of opinion. Here we go beyond what is warranted, either
by a proper reason (as in the case of an opinion concerning
something in logica docens) or by what we know truly of
reality (e. g., why ruminants need the type of digestive system
they have; the reason assigned could be one that would apply
to horses, who also eat and digest gi^ass) . In thus going beyond
reality, we do not do so in the way one real thing goes beyond
another, as cows beyond cabbage. The " going beyond " is in
the order of knowing. It is not as if our mind casts out a net.
The mind does cast out nets (as, indeed, we do so well and
frequently in logical divisions) but they remain within the
mind and are ordered to knowledge, not to the actual handling
of things. Of course, there is, nonetheless, a kind of reaching
out physically toward reality and even a meddling in it when
we perform an experiment. But why do we perform so many
experiments? Not to improve things in any practical sense,
at least primarily, but to improve our understanding of what
things are so far as possible. And so we are back in the mind,
which we have really never left. The external operation is
performed with a view, not to altering a given order in reality,
but to improving the knowledge in our mind. Hence the
paradox remains, but is intelligible. We go beyond our mind
in order for the mind to understand what it otherwise could not,
but this " going beyond " is a dialectical extension, remaining
an instrument for the mind's ever increasing grasp of an obscure
physical reality. In this order, experience and experimenting
contribute more to our knowledge than strict demonstration.
The evolution of scientific theories, based upon wider obser-
36 JOHN A. OESTERLE
vations enhanced by physical instruments, suggesting new
hypotheses that suggest further research and crucial experi-
ments, shows that we may have to remain content with a
knowledge that, ever progressive, remains nonetheless pro-
visional. Now in the measure that this is true of most of our
investigation of nature, it is clear that the domain of uni-
versality ut nunc has far greater dimensions than that of true
universals, and this is the point of emphasis in this paper, a
point which seems to have been somewhat ignored in the
scholastic tradition. There are two complementary reasons for
the greater dimension of the universal ut nunc. First, there is
the very nature of our mind, which is an experimental one,
seeing that our knowledge must be derived from things them-
selves. Second, there is the unexpected complexity of the things
we seek to know, even of those which apparently are at close
range, the sensible things. Even these are somehow fathomless
in the experimental sense of the word. A simple example is
enough to illustrate this point, our organs of external sensation.
We agree that our skin is an organ of touch and that our eyes
are organs of sight. This seems safe enough to say so long as
we do not look too closely into the subject. We have initially
recognized and understood these organs with reference to our
sensations. But now we must delve into anatomy and physi-
ology, and then into chemistry and physics. In this process
we are wading toward a limit we shall never reach. Yet we
know that the limit is somehow there though we have nothing
more than an intimation of just what it is. And so it is that
the whole interval between actual sensation along with the
vaguely recognized organs, and the limit we are moving
toward, is replete with provisionally contracted terms, with
universals " for the time being," ever in need of reconstruction
and implementation.
Even a true universal such as " what a man is " does not
settle all that man is, once for all.^ The example of sensation
° The definition of " man " as " rational animal " has often been criticized as
inadequate and even ridiculed as being incomplete. But this definition, though an
SIGNIFICANCE OF THE UNIVERSAL UT NUNC 37
and its organs shows that this true universal is quite incom-
plete and must be implemented with a world of universals
ut nunc. Man is a good enough example, for in one sense he
is the being which we know best, while in another sense we
know least of him. We know him best because of our internal
experience; but in terms of external experience we know the
lower forms of life far better even though these, from the former
point of view, are by far the more obscure. Now the situation
is such that while we may be definitely certain about some
things we come to know from internal experience, as soon as
we try to narrow down our knowledge of living things in terms
of external experience, then even our simplest terms, such as
" protoplasm " or " genes," though their related conceptions
have some basis in experience, are in the main " logical fictions "
in even Lord Bertrand Russell's sense of this term.
Nevertheless, we should not wholly identify logical fictions
with our universals ut nunc. The fictions are not intended
to have that kind of resemblance to true universal natures.
Logical fictions are symbolic constructions whereas the uni-
versals ut nunc are names and bear a real verisimilitude to
natures.
When all is said and done, however, it still remains that the
bulk of our knowledge remains provisional and in constant
need of implementation. That such is the status of our knowl-
edge is not itself mere theory. It is a well established fact. The
history of science proves that we may be quite certain of our
uncertainties, i. e., of the provisional nature of most of our
knowing as regards things in their ultimate concretion, and
therefore of the fact that most of our universals are ut nunc.
We are definitely certain that two is an even number and even
of what a circle is (no matter how little the calculator may
care about this) ; and that if an even number is taken from an
essential one and a good one in precisely this sense, was never intended to be a
complete definition. From the standpoint of completion, much remains to be said
about what man is, and much of what we know in seeking to determine more fully
what man is will remain provisional.
38 JOHN A. OESTERLE
even number, the remainder will be an even number — all this
being a matter of strict demonstration. But we have nothing
like this kind of certitude about dogs and cats, not to mention
the less familiar objects of even ordinary experience. Recog-
nizing, therefore, how provisional most of our knowledge is,
let us, for the time being, make all possible use of universals
ut nunc.
John A. Oesterle
University of Notre Dame,
Notre Dame, Indiana.
WILLIAM HARVEY, M.D.: MODERN OR
ANCIENT SCIENTIST?
WILLIAM HARVEY was born in England in 1578
and died in 1657. He received his grammar school
education at the famous King's School in Canter-
bury. In 1593 he entered Caius College, Cambridge, and re-
ceived his B. A. degree in 1597. In this period, it was not
unusual for English Protestants interested in a scientific edu-
cation to seek it in a continental Catholic university. Harvey
chose the Universitas Juristarum, the more influential of the
two universities which constituted the University of Padua in
Italy and which had been attended by Thomas Linacre and
John Caius, and where, incidently, the Dominican priests were
associated with University functions.
Competency in the traditional studies of the day was char-
acteristic of William Harvey's intellectual development. The
degree of Doctor of Physic was awarded to Harvey in 1602
with the unusual testimonial that " he had conducted himself
so wonderfully well in the examination, and had shown such
skill, memory, and learning that he had far surpassed even the
great hopes which his examiners had formed of him. They
decided therefore that he was skilled, expert, and most effici-
ently qualified both in arts and medicine, and to this they put
their hands, unanimously, willingly, with complete agreement,
and unhesitatingly." ^
In 1616 he gave his first Lumleian lectures in surgery at the
Royal College of Physicians in London. The manuscript notes
of his first course of lectures, the Prelectiones, are preserved and
have been reproduced in facsimile and transcript." In these
lectures he first enunciates the circulation of the blood.
^ D'Arcy Powers, William Harvey (London, 1897), pp. 26-27.
' William Harvey, Prelectiones Anatomiae Universalis (London: J. & A.
Churchill, 1886).
39
40 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
He waited for 12 years, however, until 1628, before he pub-
Hshed his great work entitled, An Anatomical Exercise on the
Motion of the Heart and Blood in Animals. In this classic he
foniially demonstrated the true nature of the heart and that
the motion of the blood was circular. This work is relatively
short and takes up 86 pages in the standard English edition of
his collected works.^ In 1648 Harvey's demonstration was at-
tacked in a treatise published by Dr. Jean Riolan of Paris.
Harvey answered his critic in two lengthy letters published in
Cambridge in 1649.
Harvey's second famous work, Anatomical Exercises on the
Generation of Animals, which is over five times the length of
the first, appeared in publication in 1651 through the solicita-
tion and under the direction of Dr. George Ent, a well-known
physician of the period.
In his personal life and professional career Harvey had a wide
circle of acquaintances and friends. Though it is not certain
whether he knew Galileo who was a fellow student at Padua,
he knew most of the leading contemporaries of his day. This
included Boyle, Hooke, Hobbes, Dryden, Cowley, Descartes,
Gilbert, Wren, Bacon and others, in addition to prominent
physicians and anatomists.
Harvey was extremely well-read and made reference in his
lectures and writings to the Greek philosophers and scientists of
the fourth through the seventh centuries, B. C, to many Greek
writers of the Christian era, to numerous Latin writers includ-
ing many of the poets, to Albert the Great, and to numerous
Renaissance men of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In
all, he made reference to approximately 100 authors in his
^ The Works of William Harvey, M. D. (London: Printed for the Sydenham
Society, 1847): Translated from the Latin by Robert Willis, M. D. It includes
An Anatomical Exercise on the Motion of the Heart and Blood in Animals; The
First Anatomical Exercise on the Circulation of the Blood to John Riolan; A
Second Exercise to John Riolan, in Which Many Objections to the Circulation of
the Blood are Refuted; Anatomical Exercises on the Generation of Animals, to
Which are Added, Essays on Parturition, On the Membranes and Fluids of the
Uterus, and on Conception; and miscellaneous items (Harvey's will, autopsy of
Thomas Parr and nine short letters) .
WILLIAM HARVEY, M. D. 41
writings. In particular, he had a comprehensive working knowl-
edge of Aristotle, as well as Aristotle's commentators, Avicenna
and Averroes. According to one Harvian lecturer, Harvey refers
to Aristotle 269 times.* References are made to Aristotle's
logical, physical, biological and metaphysical works. It is clear
that Harvey's superior intellectual formation through ancient
authors — the Great Books of his day — proved no block to his
momentous contribution to the future.
Finally, it is pertinent to note his basic religious belief as it
relates to his scientific work. On the title page of his Prelec-
tiones he prefixes from his favorite poet, Virgil, the motto
" Stat Jove principium, Musae, Jovis omnia plena." Over
thirty years later he explicates this motto in Exercise 54 of the
Generation of AniTnals:
... in the same way, as in the greater world, we are told that ' All
things are full of Jove,' so in the slender body of the pullet, and in
every one of its actions, does the finger of God or nature no less
obviously appear . . . We acknowledge God, the supreme and
omnipotent creator, to be present in the production of all animals,
and to point, as it were, with a finger to his existence in his works,
the parents being in every case but as instruments in his hand. In
the generation of the pullet from the egg all things are indeed con-
trived and ordered with singular providence, divine wisdom, and
most admirable and incomprehensible skill. And to none can these
attributes be referred save to the Almighty, first cause of all things,
by whatever name this has been designated, — the Divine Mind by
Aristotle; the Soul of the Universe by Plato; the Natura Naturans
by others; Saturn and Jove by the ancient Greeks and Romans; by
ourselves, and as is seeming in these days, the Creator and Father
of all that is in heaven and earth, on whom animals depend for
their being, and at whose will and pleasure all things are and were
engendered.^
In his last will and testament he states, " I doe most humbly
render my soule to Him that gave it and to my blessed Lord
* D. F. Fraser-Harris, " William Harvey's Knowledge of Literature Classical,
Mediaeval, Renaissance and Contemporary." Proceedings of the Royal Society of
Medicine, XXVII (1934), 195-99.
* Harvey, Works, ed. cit., pp. 401-402.
42 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
and Savior Christ Jesus and my bodie to the Earth to be buried
at the discretion of my executor . . ," "
Before we can determine whether Harvev was a modem
or an ancient scientist, we must first know him as the great
scientist he was. The twentieth century scientist, more nar-
rowly educated for the most part, pays only lip service to
Harvey's greatness. We can say about most contemporary sci-
entists concerning Harvey, what Galen said about his contem-
poraries concerning Hippocrates: they admire him, but do not
read him; when they read him, they do not understand him;
when they understand him, they fail to put into practice what
he has taught.^
Characterizing the lip service of contemporary biologists and
physicians is the unexpressed and hidden belief — a reflection of
our current pride and prejudice — that what Harvey enunciated
was so obvious, so easily discoverable, so easily observable by
all beginning students, that the uniqueness of his discovery was
principally his ability to liberate himself from the yoke of
ancient traditions, thought and terminology — from dark ages,
sterile scholasticism, authoritarianism and philosophical en-
croachments— sufliciently to see what in itself was so patently
observable. Even then, Harvey's liberation was incomplete
according to many historians.
Part of the modem difficulty stems from not reading him.
Typical of the difficulty is the belief that Harvey's discovery
of the circulation of the blood was a sense observation rather
than a conclusion resulting from reason utilizing inductions
from sense observations, as principles or propositions in a
demonstration.
Part of the modem difficulty also stems from those who have
read him, but not well. Many such readers have failed to ap-
preciate the complexity of obtaining a new and true conclusion
within a context in which the old conclusion was a plausible
part of an integrated body of knowledge. The modern reader,
' Ibid., p. Ixxxix.
'' Galen, Si quis optimus medicus est, eundem esse philosophum,, among Isagogici
libri, in Opera omnia, 9th ed. (Venetiis, apud Juntas: 1625), fol. 6r-v.
WILLIAM HARVEY, M. D. 43
by reading Harvey retrospectively as if his work were merely
the beginning of what came afterwards, tends to miss what is
more basic: that Harvey's discovery like most scientific dis-
coveries results from a scientific methodology which is related
to one's education, philosophy, habits, and experience as a
scientist. Rather than relate Harvey's discovery to the past out
of which it emerged, the modem reader acts as if it sprang
de 710V0 from a pair of eyes newly able to observe through
the Renaissance liberation from the medieval blinders that
enveloped this age.
The following comments are characteristic of those made by
critics who dissociate Harvey's demonstration from the tradi-
tion of his predecessors. Harvey " with one blow demolished
the structure, compounded of metaphysics, far-fetched analogy,
and mysterious ' principles ' and ' spirits,' which constitute
the method of medieval biology." Harvey's method was char-
acterized " by the rigid exclusion of mysterious forces and
agencies." ^ " Harvey . . . never entirely emerged from the
mystifying language of his contemporaries, and even regarded
himself as a loyal Aristotelian, but he builded better than he
knew." ^
The contemporary translator of the most widely read version
of Harvey's classic on The Motions of the Heart and the Blood
— an outstanding scientist in his own right — has this to say:
In his more scientific passages, Harvey is remarkably terse and
' snappy,' in the current style. In his philosophical discussions he
becomes vague and his sentences grow beyond control ... At the
same time, he tried to complete his demonstrations by metaphysical
arguments based on the traditional teleology. This was the anti-
thesis of the method by which he had achieved such brilliant
success in the preceding chapters . . . There is a good discussion of
the comparative and embryological aspects of the subject, and then
a peculiar use of the traditional authority of Galen as evidence.
One may find almost all kinds of logic in Harvey."
* Franklin Fearing, Reflex Action (Baltimore: William & Wilkins, 1930), p. 29.
® A. Wolf, A History of Science, Technology and Philosophy in the 16th and
17th Centuries (London, 1935) , p. 415.
^° Chauncey D. Leake, An English Translation with Annotations of De Motu
Cordis (Springfield: Charles C. Thomas, 1931), Translator's Preface.
44 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
If these comments truly delineate Harvey's contribution, we
are faced with the following paradox: Harvey, who was edu-
cated superbly in the traditional education of his time, who
considered himself a loyal traditionalist in science and philoso-
phy, and who utilized philosophical arguments based on the
established teleology of the day, all of which are alleged to be
antithetical to scientific advance, was also the same Harvey
who produced a brilliant, original and revolutionary work of
science which laid the groundwork for modern physiology and
medicine.
To explicate this paradox, it seems incumbent upon us to
keep open the possibility that the fruit of his labors bears a
direct relationship to the tree that bore it and the intellectual
soil that nourished it. That Harvey was well educated, and
respected and utilized his learning heightens this possibility.
Furthermore, Harvey was one of the few successful investiga-
tors in the history of science who actually thought about and
wrote on scientific methodology, and whose thinking on this
permits us to measure his reciprocal accomplishments.
It is ironic, in contrast, that the modern scientist looks upon
Harvey's contemporary, Francis Bacon, as the father of modern
science, despite history's testimony that no scientific dis-
covery can be attributed to the Baconian method. It is par-
ticularly ironic since there is no indication that Bacon even
recognized Harvey's striking contribution. A leading Bacon
scholar writes, " The probability is that ... he regarded the
theory as hardly worthy of serious discussion."" Contrari-
wise, Harvey, who was Bacon's personal physician, said of him
derogatorily that, although he enjoyed his wit and style, Bacon
" writes philosophy like a Lord Chancellor." ^-
The alternative of the hypothesis that Harvey's contribution
flowed from his past is a dismal one. It forces one to conclude
that Harvey was a schizophrenic, a duality — a sterile scholastic
and a fertile scientist — rather than a unity; and that his " bril-
^^ Thomas Fowler, Bacon's Novum Organum, Edited with Introduction, Notes,
etc., 2nd ed. (Oxford, 1889) p. 28.
^^ John Aubrey, Lives oj Eminent Men (London, 1813), vol. 2, p. 381.
WILLIAM HARVEY, M. D. 45
liant success " was accomplished by " almost all kinds of logic."
We can best seek to understand the paradox of Harvey by
seeing whether Harvey, in his turn, merely paid lip service to
Aristotle who dominated the medieval period or actually util-
ized him the way one scientist utilizes another.
To show that Harvey was a genuine disciple of Aristotle, four
illustrations of how Harvey utilizes and follows Aristotle are
presented below. The first summarizes Harvey's essay on sci-
entific methodology and shows Harvey's adherence to Aris-
totle's Organon. The second illustration deals with the great
scientific controversy in embryology as to whether animals are
preformed or epigenetically unfold themselves in development.
It shows Harvey decisively siding with Aristotle. The third
reviews the actual references Harvey makes to Aristotle in
The Motion of the Heart and Blood and shows that Aristotle
abets rather than hinders Harvey's ultimate demonstration.
One of these references points up the need for a modern reader
to have a knowledge of Aristotle's works if he is to have an
adequate understanding of Aristotle's contribution to Harvey's
discovery and demonstration. The final analysis shows that
Harvey's demonstration of the true motion of the heart and
blood is a classic Aristotelian demonstration, and illustrates
that Harvey follows in practice what he adheres to in theory,
AN ESSAY ON THE SCIENTIFIC METHOD
Harvey's essay on the scientific method is the preface to his
work. Anatomical Exercises on the Generation of Animals,
wliich was published 23 years after the publication of his classic,
The Motion of the Heart and Blood, when Harvey was 73
years old. It is a product of his later years and reflects the
permanency of the position he held. It is not intended as a
complete exposition of the scientific method but only as a
preface to his work on generation. The preface " consists of 27
paragraphs and has three headings: ' Of the Mode and Order
of Acquiring KJnowledge '; ' Of the Former, Calling to Mind
" Harvey, Works, ed. cit., pp. 151-167.
46 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
Aristotle '; and ' Of the Method to be Turned to in the Knowl-
edge of Generation.' The following is a paragraph analysis of
this essay.
Preface
Anatomical Exercises on the Generation of Animals
A. Introduction
1. Causes of writing (par. 1)
2. Present opinions concerning generation
a. Of Galen and physicians (par. 2)
b. Of Aristotle and philosophers (par. 3)
3. Concerning the falsity of these opinions (par. 4)
4. Further exposition of final causes of writing (par. 5)
5. Concerning the method employed
a. That it is difiicult (par. 6)
b. That its difficulty should not be a deterrent (par. 7)
B. Of the Mode and Order of Acquiring Knowledge
{cognitio)
1. That there can be only one road to science (scientia)
(par. 8)
2. Explication of the road
a. Relation of sense to universals (par. 9)
b. As expressed by Seneca and expounded by Harvey
(par. 10)
3. The importance of sense for judgment (par. 11)
4. Why it was thought fit to present this by way of intro-
duction (par. 12)
C. Of the Former, Calling to Mind Aristotle
1. That knowledge (cognitio) is not innate but acquired
(par. 13)
2. Whence and how we come to know (par. 14)
WILLIAM HARVEY, M. D. 47
3. Resolution by Aristotle of the difficulty involved (par.
15)
4. The order of knowledge in any art or science (par. 16)
5. Conclusions as to the relation of perfect knowledge to
sense (par. 17)
6. Conclusions as restated by Aristotle (par. 18)
7. Explication of preceding passage from Aristotle (par. 19)
8. Concluding advice to the reader concerning testimony
of the senses (par. 20)
D. Of the Method to be Turned to in the Knowledge {cog-
nitio) of Generation
1. The method proposed (par. 21)
2. This method compared to that of Fabricius (par. 22)
3. What will be set forth according to the method
a. in respect to formal content (par. 23)
b. in respect to material content (par. 24 and 25)
4. What will be inferred from that set forth and the diffi-
culties involved (par. 26)
5. Conclusion (par. 27)
Under * Of the Mode and Order of Acquiring Knowledge '
(Section B) Harvey rests his scientific method solidly on
Aristotle.
Harvey juxtaposes two key Aristotelian texts which " at first
blush may seem contradictory." The one text emphasizes that
there is but one road to scientific knowledge, i. e., to the rea-
soned fact, namely, a syllogistic process by which we move
from universals to particulars. He states that we " start from
the thinsrs which are more knowable and clearer to us and
proceed towards those which are clearer and more knowable
by nature " {Physics, Bk. I, Ch. 1, 184 a 16-18) . The second
text stresses the inductive and prior knowledge obtained from
sense data for " that is more perspicuous to us which is based
48 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
on induction . . . whence it is advisable from singulars to pass
to universals " {Post. Anal., Bk. II, Ch. 13) .
In the following section entitled " Of the same matters,
according to Aristotle," Harvey elaborates Bk. I, Ch. 1, of the
Posterior Analytics, which states that all doctrine and intel-
lectual discipline, including the two forms of reasoning, the syl-
logistic and the inductive, is acquired from antecedent knowl-
edge, none of which is innate. He then uses a passage from
Aristotle to explicate this antecedent knowledge, which arises in
sense, is retained by memory, and which, when repeated, results
in experience, from which in turn is derived the beginnings
of art and science. He again quotes a more " elegant " passage
of Aristotle to the same effect {Metaphysics, Bk. I, Ch. 1) .
Harvey goes on to say that "By this Aristotle plainly tells
us that no one can truly be entitled prudent or truly knowl-
edgeable {scientem vere) , who does not of his own proper ex-
perience, i.e., from repeated memory, frequent perception by
sense, and diligent observation, know that a thing is so in fact.
Without these, indeed, we only imagine or believe, and such
knowledge {scientia) is rather to be accounted as belonging to
others than to us." Harvey concludes this section with a pas-
sage from one of Aristotle's research works:
That the generation of bees takes place in this Avay appears both
from reason and from those things that are seen to occur in their
kind. Still all the incidents have not yet been sufficiently examined.
And when the investigation shall be complete, then will sense be
rather to be trusted than reason; reason, however, will also deserve
credit, if the things demonstrated accord with the things that are
perceived by sense {Gen. An., Bk. Ill, Ch. 10, 760 b 28-33) .
EPIGENESIS VS. PREFORMATION
A textbook in a required biological course in a leading uni-
versity in the United States makes reference to the " pre-
formationists " of approximately 300 years ago who thought
that the " embryo was preformed in miniature in the micro-
scopic spermatozoon and had but to unfold as the rosebud
into the rose " and to the " ovicists," who " postulated a pre-
WILLIAM HARVEY, M. D. 49
formed embryo in the egg that needed only a slight stimulus
to make it grow and develop." In contrast the authors cite the
modern scientist who through " the employment of the scien-
tific method of repeated and careful observations and deduc-
tions has made it clear to us that the embryo is not preformed
in its final form. . ." but that " the various parts of the new
individual are gradually formed and undergo a tremendous
modification from their first appearance up to their final
state." "
These same authors could have equally and more accurately
written: Over 2300 years ago, Aristotle, by employing the
scientific method of repeated careful observation as his basis
for inference, made it clear to anybody and everybody who
would read, that the preformationist account of embryological
development was impossible and the epigenetic account neces-
sary. He asked, " How, then, does it [the embryo] make the
other parts.f^ "; he answered, " Either all the parts, as heart,
lung, liver, eyes and all the rest, come into being together or in
succession . . ." " That the former is not the fact is plain even
to the sense, for some of the parts are clearly visible as already
existing in the embryo while others are not; that it is not be-
cause of their being too small that they are not visible is clear,
for the lung is of greater size than the heart, and yet appears
later than the heart in the original development " (734 a 17 ff .) .
William Harvey, 2000 years later, who did read, came out with
experimental confirmation and enrichment of the same view.
He states in his Generation of Animals:
Now it appears clearly from my research that the generation of the
chick from the egg is the result of epigenesis (Exercise 45) . And
first, since it is certain that the chick is produced by epigenesis, i. e.
the addition of parts successively, we shall investigate what part
may be observed before any of the rest are erected, and what may
be observed in this mode of generation. What Aristotle says of
generation ... is confirmed and made manifest by all that passes
in the egg, viz. that all the parts are not made simultaneously, but
^* S]jllabus, Introductory General Course in the Biological Sciences, edited by
Merle C. Coulter. Seventh edition. (University of Chicago, 1937), p. 104.
50 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
ordered one after the other, and that there first exists a genital
particle, by the power of which as from a principle, all the other
parts proceed (Exercise 51) .
Curiously enough, however, the preformationist theory came
into prominence again — curiously, because it did so just follow-
ing the discovery of the microscope and the aberrations that
passed for facts that resulted thereof. But the epigenetic theory
has since been restored and given great richness of detail in
support.
It can be seen that Harvey in following Aristotle reaffirmed a
truth that was lost during the late Renaissance, but redis-
covered in modem times. That it was one of Harvey's prime
objects in writing The Generation of Animals to defend and
establish the opinion already held by Aristotle has been ex-
pressed by Thomas H. Huxley.^
15
REFERENCES TO ARISTOTLE
In The Motion of the Heart and Blood, which is more a
demonstrative work than a descriptive one, 22 references to
Aristotle are made. In only one instance does Harvey clearly
disagree with Aristotle. In this instance Harvey writes,
" Hence, since the veins are the conduits and vessels that
transport the blood, they are of two kinds, the vasa and the
aorta; and this not by reason of sides (as in Aristotle) , but
office (officio) , and not, as is commonly said, by constitution,
for in many animals, as I have said, the vein does not differ
from the artery in the thickness of its tunic, but is distinct by
duties (munere) and use (usu) ." ^® It should be noted that
the disagreement is not based on Aristotle's anatomical obser-
vations, which D'Arcy W. Thompson states to be " remarkable
^^ Thomas H. Huxley, " Evolution in Biology," in Darwiniana Essays (New
York, 1898), p. 193.
^^ Harvey, Works, ed. cit., cli. 8, p. 47. The English translations of Harvey
appearing in this article are mostly adapted from the Willis translation following
consultation with the original Latin. Where possible key Latin terms which have
English equivalents are substituted. The Latin text consulted is the edition of
Bernardus Albinus (Johannes van Kercjhem, 1737) .
WILLIAM HARVEY, INI. D. 51
for its wealth of detail [and] for its great accuracy in many
particulars . . . ," but rather on physiological considerations,
viz. on its ojfifice, duty and use."
In another reference Harvey discusses an anatomical obser-
vation which " probably led Aristotle to consider this ventricle
double, divided transversely." ^^ Other than these, the remain-
ing references to Aristotle are utilized to help Harvey make or
confirm a particular point.
Of particular interest is the reference to Aristotle where
Harvey enunciates the possibility of " a motion, as it were, in
a circle . . . which motion we may be allowed to call circular,
in the same way as Aristotle says that the air and the rain
emulate the circular motion of the superior bodies; for the
moist earth, warmed by the sun, evaporates; the vapors drawn
upwards are condensed, and descending in the form of rain,
moisten the earth again; and by this arrangement are genera-
tions of living things produced; and in like manner too are
tempests and meteors engendered by the circular motion, and
by the approach and recession of the sun." ^^
In connection with this passage, a recent translator and a
scientist of renown, who is now President of the American
Association for the Advancement of Science, is able to observe
only that " Harvey seems never to have heard of [the] studies
[of] Copernicus, J. Kepler, and G. Galilei [which] had over-
thrown the Ptolemical theory of the circular motion of the
stars in the heavenly spheres . . ." ~°
But to think of this reference as a poetic metaphor to which
scientific error can be attached rather than as a striking evo-
cation of Aristotle's analysis of locomotion misses the precision
for the poetry in the analogy.
Here one has to know certain passages from Aristotle's
works, Post. Anal, Bk. II, Ch. 12, Physics, Bk. VIII, Ch. 8 & 9,
^^ Aristotle, History of Animals, Translated by D'Arcy W. Thompson (Oxford,
1910). 513 a 35, fn. 3.
"Harvey, Works, ed. cit., ch. 17, p. 79.
'" Ibid., ch. 8, p. 46.
^° Chauncey D. Leake, op. cit., ch. 8, p. 70, fn. 1.
52 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
Gen. and Cor., Bk. II, Ch. 11, Meteorology, Bk. II, Ch. 4,
among others. Aristotle divides natural locomotion into circu-
lar and rectilinear. Only circular motion can be single and
continuous. When Harvey concludes in Ch. 14 that " it is
absolutely necessary to conclude that the blood in the animal
body is impelled in a circle, and is in a state of ceaseless
(perpetuo) motion . . ." he is talking in a strict Aristotelian
framework.
Harvey, in the development of this conclusion, had to combat
in his own mind the prevailing physiological concept that
blood was produced from nutriment in a central organ, and
was moved peripherally to be totally consumed by the body.
That Harvey refers to Aristotle's concept of circular motion in
his exposition, which is in the order of demonstration, suggests
the critical role that Aristotle's concept had in the order of
discovery.
THE DEMONSTRATION OF THE MOTION OF THE HEART
AND BLOOD
Harvey makes it clear throughout his work that his " new
views of the motion and use of the heart and the circulation of
the blood " "^ are the result of the application of both sense
and reason. In his dedication to the learned physicians he
states that " for nine years or more [he has] confirmed these
views by ocular demonstrations [and] manifested them by
reasons and arguments, freed from the objections of the most
learned and skillful anatomists." In Ch. 14 entitled ' The
Conclusion of the Demonstration of the Circulation of the
Blood ' where he concludes that the blood is impelled to the
whole body by the pulse of the ventricles, he states that this is
" confirmed by reason and ocular experiment," and that one
must " necessarily conclude " that the motion of the blood is
circular. In the final words of the concluding chapter of his
book, the chapter which confirms the motion and the circula-
tion of the blood through an anatomical analysis of the heart,
'^ Harvey, Works, ed. cit., Dedication to Learned Physicians, p. 5.
WILLIAM HARVEY, M. D. 53
Harvey concludes that " All these phenomenon and many
others observed in dissecting, if rightly weighed, seem clearly
to illumine and fully confirm the truth contended throughout
these pages ... it would be difficult to explain in any other
way for what cause all is constructed and arranged as we have
seen it to be."
Notwithstanding, the modern scientist with his dispropor-
tionate worship of observation manages for the most part to
ignore the role played by reason, thereby missing what is so
magnificent in this classic work. The carefully organized nature
of Harvey's demonstration can be detected by scrutinizing
Harvey's table of contents, which, because it is a contraction,
mirrors the logical structure of the masterpiece in bold outline.
The following represents a structural analysis of the table:
Analysis of Harvey's Table of Contents " of an Ana-
tomical Exercise on the Motion of the
Heart and Blood
Part 1. Prefatory
A. Dedicatory: extrinsic to work,
1. To the King: to civil authority,
2. To Learned Physicians: to peers who respect truth.
B. Introductory: intrinsic to work,
1 . ' Introduction ': establishes the need for the work;
dated to the belief of scientists of that period.
2. ' The Causes Moving the Author to Write ' (Ch. 1) :
establishes the difficulty of the work; timeless, as the
truths obtained from nature are permanent and belong
to posterity.
Part 2. Motion of the Cardiovascular System (Ch. 2-7)
A. Motion of the Containing Parts
1. 'Motion of the heart through dissection of living ani-
mals.' (Ch. 2)
^^ Words enclosed in single quotation marks are those used by Harvey as chapter
headings. Other quotations have individual reference numbers.
54 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
2. 'Motion of the arteries through dissection of Hving
animals.' (Ch. 3)
3. ' Motion of the heart and auricles through dissection
of Hving animals.' (Ch. 4)
4. ' Motion, action and function of the heart.' (Ch. 5)
B. Motion of the Contained Parts from Right to Left
Ventricle
1 . ' Ways by which blood passes from right ventricle to
left.' (Ch. 6)
2. 'That the blood pass through the lung from right
ventricle to left.' (Ch. 7)
Part 3. Circular Motion of the Contained Part (Ch. 8-17)
A. The Thesis and Demonstration (Ch. 8-14)
1. Preliminary statement of the thesis: " Of the abun-
dance of blood passing through the heart out of the
veins into the arteries and of the circular motion of
the blood." (Ch. 8)
2. The three suppositions necessary for the demon-
stration.
a. ' The first supposition ': " the blood is incessantly
transmitted by the pulse of the heart out of the
vena cava into the arteries in such abundance that
it cannot be supplied from the ingesta, and in such
wise that the whole mass must very quickly pass
through the heart." "^
(1) ' circulation of blood confirmed from it.'
(Ch. 9)
(2) ' is freed from objections and further confirmed
by experiments.' (Ch. 10)
b. ' The second supposition ': " the blood under the
influence of the arterial pulse enters and is im-
pelled in a continuous, equable, and incessant
" Harvey, Works, ed. cit., ch. 9, p. 48.
WILLIAM HARVEY, M. D. 55
stream through every part and member of the
body, in much greater abundance than were suffi-
cient for nutrition, or than the whole mass of in-
gesta could supply " "^
(1) 'is confirmed/ (Ch. 11)
(2) * circulation of blood confirmed from it.' (Ch.
12)
c. * The third supposition ': " the veins in like manner
return this blood perpetually to the heart from all
members of the body " ^^
(1) ' confirmed and that there is a circulation of
blood from it.' (Ch. 13)
3. ' The conclusion of the demonstration concerning the
circulation of the blood.' (Ch. 14)
B. Confirmation of Conclusion that the Blood Circulates
(Ch. 15-17)
1. 'The circulation of the blood is confirmed by likely
reasons.' (Ch. 15)
2. ' The circulation of the blood is proved from conse-
quences.' (Ch. 16)
3. ' Motion and circulation of the blood is confirmed by
those things that appear in the heart and which are
clear from anatomical dissections.' (Ch. 17)
In the Introduction (Part 1, B, 1) Harvey paves the way
for his new theory by showing that the existing theory is un-
satisfactory. He states in the opening paragraph that " In dis-
cussing the motion, pulse, action, use and utility of the heart
and arteries, we should first consider what others have said on
these matters, and what the common and traditional viewpoint
is. Then by anatomical dissection, multiplied experience, dili-
gent and accurate observation, we may confirm what is rightly
stated, but what is false make right." Harvey then carefully
examines the beliefs of his contemporaries in a series of seven-
" Ibid. " Ibid.
56 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
teen dialectical propositions and replies. He concludes, " From
these and many other considerations it is plain that what has
been said on the motion and use of the heart and arteries must
seem obscure, inconsistent, or impossible to the thoughtful
student. It will therefore be proper to investigate the matter
more closely, to study the motion of the heart and arteries not
only in man but in all animals possessing a heart, and to search
out and find the truth by frequent vivisections and by constant
ocular inspection."
This doxographic approach is distinctly Aristotelian,'^ and
establishes that one should not lean on man as the final author-
ity.^^ In Ch. 1, he indicates that nature, despite the difficulty
of extracting answers from her, is the final authority.
28
'" It is part of Aristotle's methodology to examine dialectically existing opinion
before proceeding to the scientific investigation of things. Examples of this pro-
cedure are found in Physics, Bk. 1, ch. 2; Generation and Corruption, Bk. 1, ch. 1;
The Soul., Bk. 1, ch. 2, and elsewhere. The following passage from On the Heavens
states some of the reasons for the procedure: " Let us start with a review of the
theories of other thinkers; for the proofs of a theory are difficulties for the contrary
theory. Besides, those who have fu-st heard the pleas of our adversaries will be
more likely to credit the assertions which we are going to make. We shall be less
open to the charge of procuring judgment by default" (Bk. 1, ch. 10, 279 b 6-11).
" We may convince ourselves not only by the arguments already set forth but
also by a consideration of the views of those who differ from us ... If our view
is a possible one . . . and [what] they assert is impossible, this fact will be a
great weight in convincing us . . ." (Bk. 2, ch. 1, 283 b 30-a) . All translations
from Aristotle are from the Oxford edition of his works.
^' The true Aristotelian tradition may be gathered from the following statements:
" We had perhaps better consider the universal good and discuss thoroughly
what is meant by it, although such an inquiry is made an uphUl one by the
fact that the Forms have been introduced by friends of our own. Yet it would
perhaps be thought to be better, indeed to be our duty, for the sake of maintaining
the truth even to destroy what touches us closely, especially as we are philosophers
or lovers of wisdom; for, while both are dear, piety requires us to honour truth
above our friends." (Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, Bk. 1, ch. 6, 1096a 11-16).
" He who believes Aristotle to be a god ought to believe that he never made a
mistake. But whoever thinks him to have been a man must admit that he was as
liable to make mistakes as the rest of us." (St. Albert the Great, Physicorum lib.
VIII, tr. I, cap. 14, ed. Borgnet, III, p. 553).
" Unless a man holds truth dearer than friends, he will be ready to pronounce
false judgments and to bear false witness for the sake of friends. But that is
immoral. All men ought to hold truth dearer than friends, because all men have
the use of reason. But this duty is particularly binding on all philosophers, be-
WILLIAM HARVEY, M. D. 57
In subsequent chapterS^ Harvey begins to record his reading
of the book of nature. In Chapters 2-5, he reports what she
says about the heart and arteries. By obtaining the true attri-
butes of these critical components of the cardiovascular system,
their motion, pulse and action, he will be in a position subse-
quently to elucidate their use and utility. " For if none of the
true attributes of things have been omitted in the historical
survey " states Harvey's mentor Aristotle, " we should be able
to discover the proof and demonstrate everything which ad-
mitted of proof, and to make that clear, whose nature does not
admit of truth." Aristotle emphasizes in this same passage
that " in each science the principles which are peculiar are
the most numerous. Consequently it is the business of experi-
ence to give the principles which belong to each subject. I
cause they profess to teach wisdom, and wisdom is nothing else than the knowl-
edge of truth . . . Truth is, indeed, divine for it is found fundamentally and
primarily in God. That is why Aristotle insists on the sacredness of the duty of
holding truth dearer than friends . . . Plato is of the same opinion. For, once,
when setting aside a theory of his master, Socrates, he declares that truth must
be our supreme concern. And elsewhere, he declares: Socrates is, indeed, a friend
of mine, but truth is a greater friend. And in a third text, he declares that one may
make little of Socrates, but one must make much of truth." (St. Thomas Aquinas,
In I Ethic, lect. 6, nn. 76, 78) .
^* This is another expression of the true Aristotelian position. " God, like a good
teacher, has taken care to compose most excellent writings that we may be in-
structed in all perfection. ' All that is written,' says the Apostle, ' is wi'itten for our
instruction.' And these writings are in two books: the book of the creation and
the book of the Holy Scriptures. In the former are so many creatures, so many
excellent writings that deliver the truth without falsehood. Wherefore Aristotle,
when asked whence it was that he had his admirable learning, replied: ' From
things, which do not know how to lie.' " (St. Thomas, Sermo 5 in Dom. II de
adventu, ed. Vives, Opera Omnia, XXIX, p. 194).
William Harvey, who, on the one hand, makes clear that " the authority of
Aristotle has always such weight with me that I never think of differing from
him inconsiderately " (Harvey, Anatomical Exercises on the Generation of Animals,
Ex. 11, ed. cit., p. 207), also states that " 'Wlioever, therefore, sets himself to
opposition to the circulation, because [he] regards it as in some sort criminal to
call in question disciplines that have descended through a long succession of
ages, and carry the authority of the ancients; to all these I reply: that the facts
manifest by the senses wait upon no opinions, and that the works of nature bow to
no antiquity; for indeed there is nothing either more ancient or of higher authority
than nature." (Second Exercise to John Riolan, ed. cit., p. 123) .
58 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
mean for example that astronomical experience supplies the
principles of astronomical science: for once the phenomena
were adequately apprehended, the demonstrations of astron-
omy were discovered. Similarly with any other art or science.
Consequently, if the attributes of the things are apprehended,
our business will then be to exhibit readily the demonstrations."^®
Again Aristotle emphasizes that " each set of principles we
must try to investigate in the natural way, and we must take
pains to state them definitely, since they have a great influ-
ence on what follows. For the beginning is thought to be more
than half of the whole, and many of the questions we ask are
cleared up by it." ^'^
Harvey, of course, as an Aristotelian, does not limit himself
to man. To get at the heart of the matter and of man he must
be interested in the hearts of other animals. His aim is to get
at the true nature of the heart. His interest is not descriptive.
He is not interested in this heart or that with the variations in
numbers of chambers or differing associations with lung or gills,
but in the heart universally considered, prescinding from the
variations that are found in nature. He refers to cold blooded
animals as well as to warm blooded: toads, snakes, frogs, snails,
shellfish and fish. In all it has been estimated that he worked
with about 80 species of animals .^^
That this is a methodological approach and not simply the
insatiable curiosity of a field biologist is made clear from the
quote from Aristotle that appears on the title page of Prelec-
tiones, from the fifth of the canons which Harvey lists for
his own guidance at the beginning of his lectures, and from a
passage from Harvey that appears in De Motu.
The Aristotle quotation states, " The fact is that the inner
parts of man are to a very great extent uncertain and unknown,
and the consequence is that we must have recourse to a con-
''^ Prior Analytics, Bk. 1, ch. 30, 46 a 18-27.
^^ Nico-machean Ethics, Bk. 1, ch. 7, 1098 b 4-9.
'^ William Harvey, Prelectiones, ed. cit.. Introduction by a Committee of the
Royal College of Physicians of London, p. vi.
WILLIAM HARVEY, M. D. 59
sideration of the inner parts of other animals which in any-
way resembles that of man." ^-
The fifth canon emphasizes that one should systematically
study other animals " according to the Socratic rule " for this
will permit one to refute and correct errors in natural phi-
losophy, and to discover the use, action and dignity of things,
and thereby obtain for anatomy knowledge of the causes of the
parts, the ends, their necessity and use. The Harvey passage
is as follows:
Since the intimate connection of the heart with the lungs, which
is apparent in the human subject, has been the probable occasion
of the errors that have been committed on this point, they plainly
do amiss who speak and demonstrate the parts of animals generally
(as all anatomists commonly do) from the dissections of man alone,
and at that dead. They obviously act no otherwise than he, who,
having studied the form of a single republic, should set about a
general discipline of polity; or who, having taken cognizance of a
single farm, should imagine that he has scientific knowledge of
agriculture; or who, on one particular proposition attempts to
syllogize the universal. Had anatomists only been as conversant
with the dissection of the lower animals as they are with that of
the human body, the matters that have hitherto kept them in a
perplexity of doubt would in my opinion, have met them freed
from every kind of difficulty.^^
It should be seen here that in his dedication to comparative
anatomy, to Socrates' and Aristotle's rule, Harvey differs from
the modern scientist. The latter directs this branch of biology
primarily to taxonomy or to the elucidation of evolutionary his-
tory. The Socratic rule, on the contrary, is directed at eliciting
an essential definition through the use of the inductive method.
Socrates, according to Aristotle, was interested in what a thing
is, its essence, as the starting point for syllogizing. " Two
things may be fairly ascribed to Socrates," says Aristotle, " in-
ductive arguments and universal definitions, both of which are
concerned with the starting point of science."
34
'''Aristotle, The History of Animals, Bk. 1, ch. 16, 494 b 21-24.
*^ Harvey, Works, op. cit., ch. 6, p. 35.
** Aristotle, Metaphysics, Bk. M, ch. 4, 1078 b 18-30.
60 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
To understand the use and the goal of Grecian and Har-
vian comparative biology, two things should be understood.
First, that one has to seek out and know the many. Secondly,
that knowledge of the many which one has to seek out is the
" one in the many " — that which is common to the many, that
commonality which most fully accounts for why the thing is
as it is.
To know the many, however, does not automatically result
in an answer. Modern science suffers from a plethora of the
many, because of the variety and the high output of sense
observations from our laboratories. The modern scientist is in
the position of Meno, who, in answer to Socrates' question.
What is virtue?, responds that " Every age, every condition of
life, young or old, male or female, bond or free, has a different
virtue: there are virtues numberless, and no lack of definitions
for them . . ." ^^ The modern scientist in the absence of the
Harvian answer would respond similarly to the question,
What is a heart .f*, that every species of animal has a different
heart: there are numberless hearts and numberless definitions.
But Harvey, following Socrates, prescinds from the many and
seeks what the heart is " in the universal . . . whole and sound,
and not broken into a number of pieces." ^® Harvey also follows
Aristotle, who formally discusses the method of obtaining defi-
nitions in his Posterior Analytics which, as part of the Org anon,
was part of Harvey's formal training in logic and scientific
methodology.
Unlike the modern whose notion of causality is limited pri-
marily to the material and efficient causes, Harvey further
follows Socrates and Aristotle in seeking the fuller explanation
that comes with the additional knowledge of the formal and
final causes.
Socrates in his last days recollects his rejection of this ancient
error of modem scientists when, as a young man, he, " with a
prodigious desire to know that department of philosophy which
^^ Plato, Meno, 71 E-72 A (Jowett translation.)
"'Ibid., 77 A.
WILLIAM HARVEY, M. D. 61
is called the investigation of nature: to know the causes of
things, and why a thing is " " registers his disappointment after
being directed to Anaxagoras who, forsaking any principle
of order, tried to explain everything by " having recourse to
air, ether, and water and other eccentricities." ^^
Aristotle as a scientist's scientist ^^ and philosopher's philoso-
pher fully and formally develops this Socratic position in Book
I of the Parts of Animals. He, too, as if writing against the
enthusiastic follower of Harvey, who reads but does not under-
stand him, talks about " the ancient writers, who first philoso-
phized about Nature as having busied themselves " with " the
material principle and material cause." *° Aristotle explains,
on the contrary, that
if men and animals and their several parts are natural phenomena,
then the natural philosopher must take into consideration not
merely the ultimate substances of which they are made but also . . .
the homogeneous and heterogeneous parts; and must examine how
each of these comes to be what it is, and in virtue of what force.
For to say what are the ultimate substances out of which an
animal is formed, to state, for instance, that it is made of fire or
earth, is no more sufficient than would be a similar account in the
case of a couch or the like . . . For a couch is . . . such and such a
matter with this or that form; so that its shape and structure must
be included in our description. For the formal nature is of greater
importance than the material nature.*^
Aristotle finally concludes that
It is plain, then, that the teaching of the old physiologists is
inadequate, and that the true method is to state what the definitive
characters are that distinguish the animal as a whole; to explain
what it is both in substance and in form, and to deal after the same
" Plato, Phaedo, 96 B.
"' Ibid., 98 C.
'' Charles Darwin, Life and Letters, Letter to Ogle, 1882, vol. 3, p. 252: " From
quotations I had seen I had a high notion of Aristotle's merits, but I had not the
most remote notion what a wonderful man he was. Linnaeus and Cuvier have been
my two gods, though in very different ways, but they were mere schoolboys to old
Aristotle."
*° Aristotle, Parts of Animals, Bk. I, ch. 1, 640 b 5.
" Ibid., 640 b 15-29.
62 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
fashion with its several organs; in fact, to proceed in exactly the
same way as we should do, were we giving a complete description
of a couch."*-
We can see then that Harvey as an Aristotelian is interested
in function as well as action, in ends as well as means — the
teleological as well as the mechanical. We shall also see that
Harvey respects the differentiation as well as the interrelation-
ship of what has to be known for a full understanding of the
causes. Part of the modern difficulty in understanding Harvey
stems from a failure to appreciate Harvey's sensitivity to lan-
guage, and our insensitivity to the sharply delineated concepts
w^hich his terminology precisely communicates — concepts and
terms which are the culmination of a long logical and biological
tradition.
The conceptual difficulty can best be seen from the Leake
translation. In the table of contents: the Latin words dis-
sectione, in three instances, and ex-perimentis are both trans-
lated into experiment', dissectio, in another instance, is trans-
lated into investigation; confirmato is translated into both
established and proved; probatur is translated into supported;
and suppositio is translated into consideration and proposition.
The first sentence of the Introduction of this translation begins,
" In discussing the movements and functions of the heart and
arteries, we should first consider . . .". The original Latin,
however, instead of movement and junctions, has motu, pulsu,
actione, usu, utilitatibus.
We can now return more specifically to the manner in which
Harvey arrived at his revolutionary conclusions concerning the
motion of the heart and blood. If one turns to the table of con-
tents above, he will note that whereas the word dissection is
characteristically found in the chapter headings on the motion
of the heart and arteries (part 2 A) , the word supposition is
characteristically found in the section on the circulation of the
blood (part 3 A) . Dissection, of course, pertains to sense;
supposition, to reason. One may correctly infer from this that,
"/62d., 641 a 14-18.
WILLIAM HARVEY, M. D. 63
when it comes to the circulation of the blood, the demonstra-
tion is logical, not ocular. The absence of magnifying instru-
ments of sufficient strength at the time made it impossible to
observe either the circulation of the blood or the continuity of
the cardiovascular system. It is not implied here, however, that
the ocular, even if possible, could approach or match the certi-
tude of the logical demonstration.^^
Circulation, as such, is not mentioned in the body of the
work until Chapter 8, where it is introduced in the form of a
short review of the argument developed subsequently. Since
the conclusion that the circulation of the blood is the end result
of a long reasoning process, the chief function of Harvey's pre-
ceding chapters is to contribute premises which are ti*ue,
primary, immediate, better known than, prior to, and the cause
of the conclusions which follow from them.** In other words,
it is necessary to establish the motion, pulse, and action of
the heart and arteries, and the relationship of the lungs to the
heart and the blood to the lungs first. This calls for the most
exacting type of sense observations, their verification by col-
lated findings, and care in the inferences drawn from them. It
is through such knowledge that Harvey is in a position to ask
questions leading to the initial idea and final demonstration
that the blood circulates.
The first part of Harvey's treatise establishes, contrary to
the beliefs at the time, that the heart and the arteries in the
living animal always contain blood: that the proper motion of
the heart is contraction, not expansion; that its action is pump-
like, not bellow-like, and that it forcibly expels blood in one
direction; that contraction, not expansion — systole, not diastole
— corresponds to the pulse on the chest wall; that the arterial
** It should not be forgotten that the observations of Swammerdam of the per-
fectly formed butterfly in the cocoon in 1669, and those of Leeuwenhoek of the com-
plete outline of both maternal and paternal individuals in the microscopic sperma-
tozoa in 1677, led to the complete replacement of Harvey's theory of epigenesis by
the preformation theory, which lent itself to a mechanical explanation of nature,
and which was to dominate biological thinking through the first half of the eight-
eenth century.
"Aristotle, Posterior Analytics, Bk. 1, ch. 1, 71 b 16-22.
64 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
pulse, which in arterial diastole corresponds to carliac systole,
not cardiac diastole; that cardiac systole is the cause of the
arterial pulse via the motion it transmits through the blood;
and that blood from the right ventricle gets to the left ventricle
through the lungs.
Since " the one action of the heart is the transfusion and pro-
pulsion of the blood by mediation of the arteries to the extremi-
ties of the body," ^^ the question arises as to where the heart
gets the blood which is the subject of its action. The genesis
of the belief and the hypothesis that blood circulates is as
follows:
And sooth to say, when I surveyed in various disquisitions by how
much abundance blood might be lost from cutting arteries, in
dissections and induced experiments in the living; then the sym-
metry and magnitude of the vessels that enter and leave the ven-
tricles of the heart (for nature doing nothing groundlessly, would
never have given them such proportionate magnitudes ground-
lessly) , then the ingenious and attentive fitting together of the
valves and fibers, and the rest of the heart's fabric and many other
things besides, I frequently and seriously bethought me, and long
revolved in my mind, by how much abundance blood was trans-
mitted, and the like, in how short a time its transmission might be
effected, and not finding it possible that this could be supplied by
the juices of the ingested aliment without the veins on the one
hand becoming drained, and the arteries on the other hand getting
ruptured through the excessive charge of blood, unless the blood
should somehow find its way from the arteries into the veins, and
so return to the right ventricle of the heart; I began to think
whether there might not be a motion as it were, in a circle.^®
Chapter 9 contains the principal demonstration of the cir-
culation:
A fluid of limited quantity kept in
perpetual motion in one direction is moved circularly.
And the blood is such a fluid.
Therefore the blood is moved circularly.
In this syllogism according to the Aristotelian logic em-
" Harvey, Works, op. cit., ch. 5, p. 32. ** Ibid., ch. 8, pp. 45-46.
WILLIAM HARVEY, M. D. 65
ployed by Harvey the middle term is the material cause (i. e.
limited quantity of fluid) , and the demonstration is " one
through the material cause." The major premise is a general
physical theorem proved by Aristotle in Books VII and VIII of
the Physics, where he shows that perpetual motion of any
system must be circular in character. The minor premise is a
definition of the blood derived from Harvey's careful studies
recorded in his earlier chapters.
Harvey's conclusion is, as he admonishes a critic on a later
occasion, " demonstrative and true, and follows of necessity,
if the premises be true." *^ Therefore he adds that any criti-
cism of his conclusion cannot be in the area of argument and
logic, but in the area of observation and experiment which
supplies the premises. Harvey insists here that " our senses
ought to assure us whether such things be false or true and not
our reason, ocular testimony and not contemplation." ^^ That
Harvey has learned well from Aristotle, who was the father
both of biology and logic, is evident from Harvey's recognition
of and respect for the proper spheres of sense and reason.
The degree to which Harvey's demonstration is Aristotelian
should be noted further. First, it is an example of the relation-
ship of a less general science, biology, to a more general and
fundamental science, physics, to which it is subalternate: a par-
ticular biological fact is illuminated by a universal physical
theorem to yield a new biological fact. Secondly, it is an ex-
ample of the dictum that demonstrations in science are made
through a definition expressing an essential characteristic.
Thirdly, contrary to modem thinking, Harvey's demonstration
does not depend on mathematical measurements but on
physical proportions, i. e., the proportion of one quantity to
another on the basis of physical comparison rather than on
mathematical principles. In stating that Chapter 9 is " the
first instance of the quantitative method in physiology " and
that it " introduced the most important method of reasoning in
*^ Harvey, Second Exercise to John Riolan, ed. cit., p. 133.
" Ibid.
66 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
science," *° Leake misses Harvey's fidelity to Aristotle's
method and its reward. Kilgour, in a recent and careful analy-
sis of Harvey's use of the quantitative method, concludes that
certainly " Harvey was not concerned with accurate measure-
ment " and that his estimations were consciously indifferent to
precision, the essence of the mathematical procedure. He adds,
" Apparently, quantitative evidence was not important in lead-
ing Harvey to develop the idea of the circulation because there
is no quantitation in his Lumleian Lecture notes of 1616." '"
The computations Harvey supplies, therefore, may be better
viewed as communicating to the reader — in the manner in
which a sensible model makes a theory vivid to the reader —
the physical reality of the disproportion between the amount
of ingesta and the flow of blood through the heart.^^
Finally, it would be amiss not to recogTiize that the demon-
stration of the circulation of the blood is just an Aristotelian
step in the elucidation of the nature of the heart, the prime
component of the cardiovascular system. The ultimate purpose
of Harvey's treatise is to define the heart upon which the
motion of the blood is dependent.
One of the most remarkable chapters in this work of Harvey's
is the 17th and final chapter. From all the fields opened up by
the establishment of circulation — physiology, pathology, symp-
tomatology and therapeutics — he selects his topic: to relate
the various particulars that present themselves in the ana-
tomical study of the fabric of the heart and arteries to their
several uses and causes, " for I shall meet with many things
*" Chauncey D. Leake, op. cit., ch. 9, p. 74, fn. 1.
^° Frederick C. Kilgour, " William Harvey's Use of the Quantitative Method,"
Yale Journal of Biology and Medicine, XXVI (1954) , 417-18.
^^ Some of the thoughts appearing in this article were first presented and in
part developed at a summer institute for scientists and philosophers conducted by
The Albert Magnus Lyceum for Natural Science at River Forest, Illinois, July
1952. A report of this institute is to be found in the publication, entitled, Science
in Synthesis: A dialectical approach to the integration of the physical and natural
sciences, by W. Kane, O. P.; J. D. Corcoran, O. P.; B. M. AsUey, O. P.; and R. H.
Nogar, O. P. (The Aquinas Library, Dominican College of St. Thomas Aquinas:
River Forest, Illinois. 1953). See pp. 93-108.
WILLIAM HARVEY, M. D. 67
which receive light from the truth I have been contending for,
and which, in turn, render it more obvious. And indeed I would
have it confirmed {firmatain) and beautified {exorriatam) by
anatomical arguments above all others." °"
This chapter is primarily an elaboration of the formal cause
of the heart through the re-examination of the heart and the
vessels — structurally, comparatively, embryologically and func-
tionally— in the light of the final cause, viz. the circulation of
the blood. His final statement which closes his treatise is: " it
would be difficult to explain in any other way for what cause all
is constructed and arranged as we have seen it to be."
He establishes what a heart is in his characterization of the
heart per se as the left ventricle, viz. that ventricle " distin-
guished by use not position, the one namely that distributes
blood to the body at large, not the lungs alone." In doing so he
establishes the connection of the final and formal causes.
This chapter completes the definition of the heart for
Harvey, which definition may be expressed in syllogistic form
as follows:
An organ which must supply an organ which is so con-
the body with a steady flow structed as to be able to
of a fluid whose quantity is produce a circular motion
proportionately small is of that fluid.
And the heart has this very function.
Therefore the heart is:
1 . An organ which has a pulsating " left " ventricle mth a
non-regurgitating valvular inlet and outlet and whatever addi-
tional cardiac parts that conform to the needs of the species
(the formal cause: the anatomical structure described teleo-
logically and in detail, i.e., in its relationship to its motion,
pulse, action, use and utilities, e. g., the arrangement of the
fibres in the walls, the valves, the braces of the heart; " the
actions and uses of the heart may be understood from the con-
^^ Harvey, Works, op. cit., ch. 16, p. 74.
68 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
stitution of its muscular fibers and the fabric of its moveable
parts " '') ,
2. and is composed of muscular tissue and other tissue com-
ponents necessary to the parts (the Tnaterial caiise) ,
3. for the sake of circulating the blood (the final cause or
function)
4. by contraction (the efficient cause of circulation) .^*
^* Ibid., ch. 17, p. 82.
^* That the last chapter is an integral and important part of Harvey's classic is
not the common position. Leake presents a typical viewpoint when he states that
" The last three chapters add little to the significance of the demonstration "
(Chauncey D. Leake, op. cit., Translator's Preface, p. x) . But here it seems that
Leake has a limited appreciation of the purpose of the work as explicitly stated by
Harvey, and of the true scientific nature of the anatomical exercise employed by
Harvey. As to the purpose of the work it should first be recalled that the title of
this classic makes clear that it is an anatomical exercise, and that it concerns
the motion of the heart as well as the motion of the blood. Secondly, that the
opening statement of the Introduction states that Harvey is discussing " the motion,
pulse, action, use and utility of the heart and arteries," and of Chapter 1 that his
purpose is to discover " the motions, use and utility of the heart." That Leake
does not appreciate the comprehensiveness of the anatomical exercise is reflected in
his translation, in which he reduces action, use and utility to junction in the Intro-
duction, and M5e and utility to junction in Chapter 1.
If we turn to the anatomical works of Fabricius, who was Harvey's teacher, we
find the following exposition of the anatomical exercise: "to treat first the dissection
or description of each organ, then its action, and finally its utilities, and in this
way present our entire knowledge of the organs as comprised in these three
divisions." He adds that he has followed " this path the more willingly because
those distinguished pioneers, Aristotle and Galen, have blazed the trail and, so
to speak, carried the torch before me on the way." (Fabricius, De Visione, voce,
auditu, Preface, translated by Howard B. Adelmann, The Embryological Treatises
oj Hieronymus Fabricius oj Aquapendente, Cornell University Press, 1942, p. 82).
Fabricius classifies the biological works of Aristotle and Galen in these three
divisions and states that " The third part, indeed, which discusses the utilities of
the whole, as well as of the parts of an organ, corresponds to the four books of
Aristotle's De partibus animalium [and] to that great work of Galen's, De usu
partium . . ." (ibid., p. 83) .
When we turn to Aristotle's explication of the third part of the anatomical
exercise he states that " In the first place we must look at the constituent parts
of animals. For it is in a way relative to these parts, first and foremost, that
animals in their entirety differ from one another: either in the fact that some have
this or that, while they have not that or this; or by peculiarities of position or
arrangement; or by the differences that have been previously mentioned, depending
upon diversity of form, or excess or defect in this or that particular, or analogy, or
WILLIAM HARVEY, M. D, 69
NatuFcally, the final and efficient causes are proximate causes
and are not intended as complete in any sense. In this context
Harvey's Aristotelian answer to his critic Riolan is pertinent:
" To those who repudiate the circulation because they neither
see the efficient nor final cause of it, and who exclaim, Cui
bono? I have yet to reply, having hitherto taken no note of
the ground of objection which they take up. And first I own
I am of opinion that our first duty is to inquire whether the
thing be or not, before asking wherefore it is (propter quid) ?
for from the facts and circumstances which meet us in the
on contrasts of the accidental qualities." For, according to Aristotle " to do this
[pass on to the discussion of the causes] when the investigation of the details is
complete is the proper and natural method, and that whereby the subjects and
the premises of our argument will afterwards be rendered plain." (Aristotle, The
History of Animals, Bk. 1, ch. 6, 491 b 10-19).
Galen's position is quoted by Fabricius: "A practical knowledge of the nature
of each of the members is gained from dissection together with a thorough under-
standing of its actions and utilities." Galen further adds, in the quotation from
Fabricius: " Moreover, lest anyone unwisely neglects these aspects or be thought-
less enough to say that they are not of great consequence, I can truly say this:
They are of so much importance, that whoever has learned them thoroughly must
unhesitatingly confess that he has learned and comprehended the whole subject of
anatomy, which, in my opinion, is nothing but the true and solid foundation of
all medicine and the absolute and perfect end of natural philosophy." (Fabricius,
op. dt., p. 83) .
Galen's statement is clearly in anticipation of criticisms such as Leake's. That
Leake has this position is in great part explained by the fact that contemporary
physicians and doctorates of anatomy have been raised on Gray's AnatoTny which
is entitled Anatomy, Descriptive and Surgical and which is intended for " Students
of Surgery rather than for the Scientific Anatomist." (Henry Gray, Anatomy,
Descriptive and Surgical, A New Edition Thoroughly Revised by American Authori-
ties from tlie Thirteenth English Edition (Lea Brothers, 1896) Preface to the
Thirteenth English Edition, p. 8) . It can be seen that Gray's Anatomy is a practical
work ordered to surgery and which only relates the first division of the traditional
notion of anatomy, namely description, to surgery.
An understanding of Harvey's procedure then, may be summarized in the words
of Fabricius: " Now in the second part of this treatise, I must discuss action, since,
as Galen everywhere testifies, it is not permissible to arrive at the third section,
which describes the usefulness (utilitates) of the parts, before the actions of the
organs are understood. For the utilities of an organ always have reference to action,
and depend upon the action which proceeds from the homogeneous parts of it. For
this reason, in every organ there is always provided one part which is the prin-
cipal instrument of its action, that is, a part from which the action proceeds, while
the other parts of the organ are related to the action as useful assistants." Fabri-
70 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
circulation admitted, established, the use and utilities of its
institution are especially to be sought." ^^
Notwithstanding, Harvey makes clear " the principal use
and end of the circulation: it is that for which the blood is sent
on its perpetual course, and to exert its influence continually
in its circuit, to wit, that all parts dependent on the primary
innate heat may be retained alive, in their state of vital and
vegetative being, and apt to perform their duties; whilst to
use the language of physiologists, they are sustained and actu-
ated by the inflowing heat and vital spirits." ^®
The modem reader, of course, will have to understand that
it would take some time, and the modem development of the
science of chemistry, before this point could have been made
in terms of oxygen instead of vital spirits, or amino acids,
glucose, and fatty acids instead of natural spirits. In the mean-
time he can have the reassurance from Harvey that " There is,
in fact, no occasion for searching after spirits foreign to, or
cius then exemplifies the above distinctions with the eye, in which the crystalline
lens has the principal utility, and the other parts of the eye, the cornea, the iris
and the rest, are structures useful for the eye's action through the secondary
utilities they have for either improving or protecting vision, and concludes: " It
is now clear from the foregoing that utility is always related to activity, whether
the usefulness of the organ is sought from its action or from other things either
consequential or accidental; nor can you inquire into the usefulness of any organ
unless its action is first known." (Fabricius, The Formed Fetus, Part 2, The
Action and Usefulness (utilitas) of the parts of the fetus, ch. 1, Adelmann trans-
lation, ed. cit., p. 276) .
Harvey's last chapter, which is entitled " The motion and circulation of the blood
is confirmed by those things that appear in the heart and are clear from anatomical
dissections," can now be seen as an integral part of the anatomical exercise. In
the preceding chapters Harvey has established the proper action of the heart,
as well as its use, the circulation of the blood. This now permits him to look at the
heart so as to determine formally its utilities, i. e., its abilities to serve, in the
light of its actions and use. By determining that the formal cause of the heart —
its utilities — has a one to one correspondence with its action — the efficient cause
of blood circulation — and with its use, the final cause, namely, the circulation of
the blood, Harvey can now reflectively confirm the circulation. In this remarkable
chapter Harvey identifies the principal utility with the muscular left ventricle and
the secondary utilities with valves, braces, etc.
^® Harvey, Second Exercise to John Riolan, ed. cit., pp. 122-123.
^^ Harvey, First Exercise to John Riolan, ed. cit., p. 98.
WILLIAM HARVEY, M. D. 71
distinct from, the blood ": " for " the blood and spirits con-
stitute one body (like — whey and butter in milk, or heat in
hot water . . .) ." ^^
It should be stressed that Harvey in elucidating the formal
cause of the heart, as well as the formal cause of the arteries
and veins, has obtained the efficient cause of circulation and
the basis for a propter quid demonstration. This is the import
of his last chapter and his concluding statement quoted above.
Conclusion
Although Harvey's discovery of the circulation of the blood
was truly revolutionary, its establishment was strictly tradi-
tional. Ironically, the greatest opposition to his work came from
the traditionalists. What accounts for the paradox?
Most scholastics of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries so
admired Aristotle that they ended up slaves to his conclusions
and caricaturists, rather than disciples, of the methods by
which he arrived at them. As a result they were very unpro-
ductive in the natural sciences.
Modern biologists trace their lineage back to three seven-
teenth century scientists who revolted from these Aristotelians:
Francis Bacon, Rene Descartes ^^ and William Harvey. What
^^ Harvey, Anatotnical Exercises on the Generation oj Animals, Ex. 51, ed. cit.,
p. 502.
^^ Harvey, The Motion of the Heart and Blood, Introduction, ed. cit., p. 12.
^^ Descartes was one contemporary who had no difficulty accepting Harvey's
conclusion. " I need only mention in reply what has been written by a physician
in England, who has the honour of having broken the ice on the subject (that the
blood's) course amounts precisely to a perpetual motion." (Rene Descartes,
A Discourse on Method of Rightly Conducting the Reason and Seeking Truth in
the Sciences, Everyman's Library, p. 41). He accepted Harvey's conclusion without
difficulty because it fit in with his mechanistic and mathematized method. His
method, however, did not protect him from misunderstanding Harvey's demon-
stration and almost everything that Descartes further said about the motions of
the heart and blood was in error. (Ibid., pp. 37-43) .
Harvey, of course, was fully cognizant of Descarte's failure and makes this clear
in the following passage: ". . . the ingenious and acute Descartes (whose honourable
mention of my name demands acknowledgments,) and others ... in my opinion
do not observe correctly . . . Descartes does not perceive how much the
relaxation and subsidence of the heart and arteries differ from their distention or
72 HERBERT ALBERT RATNER
each of these three did was to free himself from the short-
comings of his contemporaries by a daring innovation. The
innovation of Descartes was philosophical. He allowed his
philosophical genius to carry him to the extreme of founding
a completely new philosophy. The innovation of Bacon was
pseudo-philosophical. His lack of philosophical genius carried
him to the extreme of founding a new methodology of investi-
gation. Descartes paved the way for a whole series of modern
errors; and Bacon caused the disappearance of methodology in
those who became his followers. But the innovation of Harvey
lay in the diligence of his investigation of the Aristotelian prem-
ises and the profundity of his penetration of Aristotle's method.
From this novelty — fidelity to the tradition — has come his
permanent contribution to modern science. It made him both
an authentic representative of the past and an authentic repre-
sentative for the future, and establishes him as a model for an
age that slights sense, as well as for an age that slights reason.
Herbert Albert Ratner, M. D.
Loyola University
Chicago, Illinois
diastole; and that the cause of the distention, relaxation, and constriction, is
not one and the same; as contrary effects so they must have contrary causes; as
different movements they must have different motors; just as all anatomists know
that flexion and extension of an extremity are accomplished by opposite antagonistic
muscles, and contrary or diverse motions are necessarily performed by contrary
and diverse organs instituted by nature for the purpose " (Harvey, Second Exercise
to John Riolan, ed. cit., pp. 139-140) .
Part Two
HISTORY OF SCIENCE
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY IN THE ELEV-
ENTH AND TWELFTH CENTURIES:
THE PROBLEM OF ELEMENTS
THE cultivation of the liberal arts and the sciences during
the twelfth century developed new methods and inves-
tigated new subject-matters. What was achieved in
theory and interpretation is obscured by the further trans-
formation of problems and enlargement of data during the
succeeding period, the hundred years between the middle of
the twelfth and the middle of the thirteenth centuries, when
the scientific and philosophical works of Aristotle and a vast
body of accompanying commentary, elaboration, and specu-
lation were translated for the first time. The problem of uni-
versals and the problem of elements are two highly ambiguous
signs of the intellectual activity of a period of distinguished
cultural and scientific renaissance.
The grammarian, rhetorician, and dialectician of the early
twelfth century studied texts that had long been available
more constructively and imaginatively — Latin grammars and
rhetorics, translations of Aristotle's Categories and On Inter-
pretation, Porphyry's Introduction, and Boethius' logical trea-
tises and commentaries — and the twelfth century Book of Six
Principles attributed to Gilbert de la Porree was assimilated
with Porphyry's Introduction to the canon of Aristotle's Or-
ganon. Even the problem of universals was familiar in the
widely known three questions of Porphyry, After the trans-
lation of the last four books of Aristotle's Org anon the work of
twelfth century logicians like Abailard had little pertinence
to the continuing problems; and, in general, the liberal arts
of the trivium were turned from interpretative applications
and constructive theories to demonstrative and speculative
systematizations.
75
70 RICHARD MCKEON
The encyclopaedist and the cosmologist of the twelfth cen-
tury likewise worked on texts long available but neglected —
Chalcidius' translation of Plato's Timaeus and his commentary
on it, the works of the Platonists Apuleius and Macrobius or of
Martianus Cappella who furnished bits of the theories of
Hermes Trismegistus, and finally the eleventh century trans-
lations of works on medicine or on the nature of man, like
those of Constantine the African or Alfanus of Salerno in
which the problem of elements is stated. Thierry of Chartres,
Peter Abailard, William of Conches (one of whose works is
sometimes called On the Ele77ients of Philosophy) , and their
critic William of St. Thierry as well as many other philosophers
of the early twelfth century used the elements as beginning
points and ordering principles in their expositions of composites
as man, the universe, and the sciences; and elements were
continued in that function in the encyclopaedias of the later
twelfth and early thirteenth centuries, such as Alexander Neck-
ham's On the Natures of Things, Thomas of Cantimpre's On
the Nature of Things, and Bartholomew of Glanville's On the
Properties of Things. After the translation of Aristotle's scien-
tific work and of commentaries which put varying interpre-
tations on his conception of things, neither the data nor the
theories of these organizations of knowledge were useful in the
continuing investigations; and, in general, encyclopaedic organi-
zations of the sciences were turned from the classification of
the nature and properties of things to the ordering of motions
and functions according to principles.
The problem of elements is the counterpart of the problem
of universals. (1) Science is of the universal; (2) it is derived
from and applied to particulars; (3) examination of universal
predicates is therefore involved in questions of existence and
being, of experience and reason. Conversely, (1) wholes or
complexes are composed of parts and ultimately parts are
Composed of simple parts; (2) the nature of parts depends on
how the whole is conceived; (3) determination of simples is
therefore involved in a complex of related questions concerning
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY IITH AND 12TH CENTURIES 77
the indivisibility of the element, such as, whether the compound
is divided actually or intellectually; whether the elements so
produced are corporeal or incorporeal; whether they are indi-
viduals or classes; and whether they are infinite or finite;
whether they are characterized only by properties like size,
shape, weight, and motion or also by other qualities. Questions
about universals arise from the opposition of different con-
ceptions of logical and scientific method. Questions about
elements arise in the opposition of different interpretations of
data. The problem of universals and the problem of elements
are important in periods like the twelfth and the fourteenth
centuries and they are subject to similar resolutions, but the
differences of disciplines and of information in two such periods
change the implications of the problems and the considerations
relevant to their treatment.
The history of the treatment of elements in the Middle Ages
reflects the indirect influence of earlier theories of elements and
repeats in ironic fashion the customary history of Greek phi-
losophy. Aristotle taught us that the Ionian and Italian philoso-
phers used the " elements " as principles in their philosophies in
" lisping anticipations " of his own use of " causes " as prin-
ciples. We fill in or modify this version of the development
of thought by giving the elements interpretations suggested by
the ways in which they are used in cosmological or medical
accounts of the origin of the universe or the development and
functions of organisms. Thales' conception of water as a prin-
ciple is given meaning in application to the structure and origin
of the universe, and Hippocrates' theory that all natural objects
are characterized by four qualities — hot, cold, dry, and moist —
has its obvious applications in physiology and therapy. The
theories of elements propounded in the medical works of the
eleventh century and the cosmologies of the twelfth century
likewise provide the principles of the relevant sciences and
prepare for the more diversified treatment, in the thirteenth
century, of principles and sciences devised from the interpre-
tation of Aristotle's works.
78 RICHARD MCKEON
Aristotle's version of intellectual history depends on his dis-
tinction of principles, causes, and elements, yet his meaning of
" elements " is seldom used even when his history is repeated.
A principle is a " beginning "; all causes and all elements are
principles, but not all principles are causes or elements, and not
all causes are elements. Elements are one variety of one of the
four causes, the material cause. Aristotle defines element as
the first component part of a thing, indivisible in kind into
other kinds. The Aristotelian conceptions of " matter " and of
" kind " have prevented the wide acceptance of this definition,
for incorporeal as well as corporeal things have matter and a
thing indivisible " in kind " may be divisible in many ways.
Aristotle gives three examples to clarify his definition; elements
of speech, of bodies, and of geometrical or logical proof. The
Greek word stoicheion means both " element " and " letter."
The elements of speech or letters are the parts into which
speech is ultimately divided and which cannot be divided into
forms of speech different in kind from them: a syllable can
be divided into parts different in kind, but if letters can be
divided their parts are likewise letters. The elements of bodies
are simple parts like water, whose parts in turn are water.
The elements of geometrical and logical proof are the primary
demonstrations and the primary syllogisms, which are each
implied in many demonstrations and which have no parts
different in kind from them. The elements of demonstrations
are demonstrations, not propositions or terms. Some people
use " element " in the broader transferred sense of the small
and simple and indivisible; the most universal things and
genera are then thought to be elements, and unity and the
point to be first principles.^ The first philosophers sought the
principles of things among the material causes, including the
four elements; - Leucippus and Democritus said the full and the
empty, the atoms and the void, are elements; ^ the physicists
^ Metaphysics, V, 3, 1014a26-bl5.
* IhH., I. 3, 983b6-984b8.
* Ihid., 985b3-19.
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY 1 ITH AND 12TH CENTURIES 79
posited elements of bodies^ and neglected elements of incorporeal
things, while the Pythagoreans treated the principles and ele-
ments even more strangely, for they derived their principles
from non-sensible mathematical objects and applied them to
perceptible bodies.*
Physical elements have an important place in Aristotle's
organization of the physical sciences. The principles and causes
of motion are treated in his Physics; elements become important
in discriminating the kinds of bodies according to their motions
in his De Caelo; elements are not fixed and changeless, and the
effects of changes or transmutations of the elements are treated
in his On Generation and Corruption; the remaining problems
of phenomena caused by the operation of elements above the
earth's surface and by the formation of mixtures, compounds,
and functionally organized wholes are considered in his Meteor-
ology.^ The division of bodies in the De Caelo is into simples
(haplon) , which have simple motions, and compounds {sun-
theton) of those simples, which have composite motions. The
circular motion of the first body, aither, and of the heavenly
bodies, is treated in the first two books of the De Caelo; ® the
straight line motions of the simple bodies, fire and earth, which
are respectively light and heavy, and of the bodies compounded
of them, are investigated in the last two books. ^ The definition
of a bodily element is that into which other bodies can be
analyzed but which cannot itself be analyzed into parts differing
in kind.^ The On Generation and Corruption is concerned with
substantial change rather than with local motion, and the
transformation of the four elements or simple bodies, fire, air,
water and earth, is explained by combinations of the primary
qualities, hot, cold, dry and moist, rather than by the qualities
light and heavy.
* Ibid., I, 8, 988b23-990al8.
^ Aristotle reviews this course of inquiry at the beginniiifj of the Meteorologica, I,
1, 338a20-339a9.
« De Caelo, I, 2, 268b26-269bl7.
''Ibid., m, 1, 298a24-bl2.
» Ibid., in, 3, 302al5-19.
80 RICHARD MCKEON
The Meteorology finally turns to phenomena less regular than
the motions of the primary body, aither, below the region of
the motion of the stars. These include, in addition to meteor-
ological phenomena in the strict sense, the composition of
elements into homogeneous bodies and of homogeneous bodies
into structured or organic bodies. Two of the primary qualities,
hot and cold, are active, and two, dry and moist, are passive.
The combinations of elements may be mechanical mixtures
(sunthesis) or chemical compounds (mixis) . The latter are
" homoeomerous " bodies, inorganic (gold, silver, stone) , vege-
table (bark, wood) , or animal (bone, flesh, sinew) , Homoeo-
merous bodies are distinguished by qualities which act on the
senses (white, fragrant, resonant, sweet, hot or cold) and more
intrinsic qualities which, like moist and dry, are passive, such as
solubility, solidifiability, flexibility, frangibility, plasticity, duc-
tility, malleability, combustibility, compressibility.^ Homoeo-
merous bodies are composed of elements, and are in turn the
material for more complex " non-homoeomerous " bodies. Aris-
totle's examples of inorganic structured complex bodies are
artificial objects, like flutes and saws, which have specific
functions, while his examples of organic complex bodies are
leaf and root, hands, feet, and eyes." The bodies composed,
in turn, of non-homoeomerous bodies are men and plants and
the like. In the course of discussing homoeomerous bodies
Aristotle makes use of the distinction between masses or cor-
puscles (onkos) and pores (poros) , which is used later in the
history of elements and is thought to derive from Democritus'
distinctions between atoms and void; it is to be observed,
however, that these particles would have the status of molecules
relative to simpler atoms or elements.
Philosophers continued to form theories concerning elements
after Aristotle, and Aristotle's history of elements as the prin-
ciples of the early philosophers was usually combined with a
Stoic or Neoplatonic conception of elements. These were the
» Meteorologica, IV, 8, 384b24-385al8.
" Ibid., IV, 10, 388al0-29; 12, 389b23-390b22.
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY IITH AND 12TH CENTURIES 81
versions in which the history influenced early Christian thought.
The Stoics held that the universe, like other wholes, had two
principles, an active and a passive principle, or an efficient and
a material principle, and that the universe is ordered by reason
and providence/^ Plato distinguished and related the operation
of reason and of necessity in the formation of the universe by
placing reason in the composition of the world soul and neces-
sity in the operation of elements. The pattern of later dis-
cussions of elements as the material parts of a universe brought
into existence by the efficient or rational causality of God is
established in pagan and Christian accounts of the history of
philosophy during the early centuries of the Christian era.
Almost the same doctrines are given in three related accounts —
one by Sextus Empiricus, a physician and skeptical philosopher,
the other two ascribed respectively to the physician Galen and
to the Christian Clement the Roman — and they are adaptable
to the Mosaic account of creation.^" The Recognitions of the
pseudo-Clement were translated into Latin, with modifications,
by Rufinus and are well-known in various versions during the
early Middle Ages; the Historia Philosopha of the pseudo-Galen
is in accord with the treatment of elements in Galen's medical
works which were translated in the eleventh century.
Sextus and the pseudo-Galen follow the Stoic division of
philosophy into three parts, logic, physics, and ethics; and they
organize their treatment of physics by distinguishing an efficient
and a material principle .^^ The pseudo-Clement distinguishes
simples from composites and argues that corporeal wholes
cannot be accounted for by the elements of which they are
composed without recourse to a simple cause, rational and
providential, of the invisible universe which contains the visible
" Diogenes Laertius, VII, 134 and 138-139.
^^ Herman Diels (Doxographi Graeci, Berlin, 1889, pp. 251-2) argues that the
three are so closely related that they must have been derived from a common Stoic
source composed between the times of Seneca and the Antonines.
^' Sextus Empiricus, Pyrrhoneiai Hypotyposeis, III, 1, Adversus Mathematicos,
IX, 4; Galen, Historia Philosopha, 16 (Diels, pp. 608-9) .
82 RICHARD MCKEON
universe/* Sextus undertakes to show that dogmatic views of
God and of elements are alike untenable; the pseudo-Galen
enumerates the various philosophic views of elements and of
God; the pseudo-Clement refutes Epicurus with the aid of
Plato and sketches the various doctrines of elements before
treating the problems of their use in explaining the phenomena
of the universe. The enumerations of theories of elements in
the three accounts have striking points of similarity/" Similar
problems are treated — whether the " material " elements are
" corporeal " or " incorporeal," perceptible by sense or by reason,
or imperceptible, free of qualities or characterized by qualities,
finite or infinite. The character of the elements reflects the
mode of composition used as a model and is sometimes indi-
cated by use of other terms instead of " element," such as
" atom," " seed," " root," " minimum," or " molecule."
The place of elements in the discussion of problems of parts
and wholes is apparent in each of these accounts. The author
of The Recognitions, thus, presents himself as one who had
frequented the schools of the philosophers before he became
a Christian, and in the dialogue in which elements are discussed,
the chief speaker, Niceta, acknowledges that he attended the
Epicurean schools, while one of his brothers studied with the
Pyrrhonians and the other with the Platonists and Aristotelians.
He begins his treatment of the origin of the universe by differ-
entiating all things {omne quod est) into the simple and the
composite. The simple " lacks number, division, color, differ-
ence, roughness, smoothness, heaviness, lightness, quality,
quantity, and, therefore, even limitation." The composite is
made up of two, three, four, or more components. The simple
is incomprehensible and immense, without beginning and end,
^^ Recognitiones, VIII, 9-12, Patrologia Graeca 1, 1375A-6C.
^^ Sextus Empiricus, Pyrrhoneiai Hypotyposeis, 111,30-32, Adversus Mathematicos,
IX, 359-64; Galen, Historia Philosopha, 18, pp. 610-11; Clement, Recognitiones,
VIII, 15, 1378. Sextus goes on to other problems of physical philosophy in Adversus
MathcTnaticos, Book X — problems of place, motion, time, number, generation and
corruption — which also involve elements, and a similar enumeration of theories is
made in connection with generation and destruction, ibid., IX, 310-18.
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY IITH AND 12TH CENTURIES 83
without cause, but himself father and creator. Man is able,
however, to come to awareness of intellectual and invisible
things from things seen and touched, as is apparent in
arithmetic.
The problem of the origin of the world raises two questions:
whether it was made or ungenerated; and, if it was made,
whether it was made of itself or by another. Only the last
position would provide a place for providence. Niceta argues
that the world was made by God, and the argument turns
therefore to the characteristics of the visible world. Bodies
have two differentiae: either they are connected and solid or
divided and separate. If the world was made from a solid body,
it would have to be divided into parts; if it was made from
diverse parts, they would have to be brought into relation
and composition. He argues that the universe could not have
been made from a single body or matter, and that a creator is
necessary to compound it from two or more bodies. The
Greek philosophers formed different theories of the principles
of the universe. Pythagoras said the " elements of principles "
are numbers; Strato qualities; Alcmaeon contrarieties; Anaxi-
mander immensity; Anaxagoras equalities of parts; Epicurus
atoms; Diodorus the incomposite (amere) ; Asclepiades masses
(onkos) which can be called tumors or swellings; the geometers
limits; Democritus ideas; Thales water; Heraclitus fire; Diogenes
air; Parmenides earth; Zeno, Empedocles, and Plato, fire, water,
air, earth; Aristotle introduced a fifth element, called aka-
tonomaston or the incompellable, no doubt to indicate him
who made the universe one by conjoining the elements. The
" machine of the universe " could not have been set up without
a maker and director.^® Niceta then refutes the position of
^^ Recognitiones, VIII, 15, PG 1, 1378A-9A. The enumerations of Sextus and
Galen are somewhat longer and follow a different order from the pseudo-Clement's
account, proceeding through the single elements, two, three, four, five, and finally
other varieties of elements. The list in Sextus' Pyrrhoneiai Hypotyposeis, III, 30-32
runs: Pherecydes earth; Thales water; Anaximander the infinite; Anaximenes and
Diogenes of Apollonia air; Hippasus of Metapontum fire; Xenophanes earth and
water; Oenopides of Chios fire and air; Hippo of Rhegium fire and water; Onama-
84 RICHARD MCKEON
Epicurus, reports the arguments of Plato, and finds support
in the phenomena of the world — the courses of the stars,
meteorological occurrences, vegetable, animal, and human struc-
tures and functions.
critus fire, water, and earth; the school of Empedocles and the Stoics fire, air, water,
and earth; the school of Aristotle fire, air, water, earth, and the revolving {kyklo-
phoretikon) body; Democritus and Epicurus atoms; Anaxagoras homeomeries;
Diodorus Cronos minima (elachista) and incomposite (amere) bodies; Heracleides
Ponticus and Asclepiades the Bithynian irregular masses or molecules (anarmoi
onkoi) ; the school of Pythagoras numbers; Strato qualities. Some of the compexities
of the problem of elements become apparent in the interpretation of these lists.
Thus, Sextus elaborates the Pythagorean doctrine that numbers are the principles
and elements of all things by observing that the Pythagoreans held that the method
of philosophizing was the same as the m.ethod of linguistic analysis. Language is
composed of words, words of syllables, syllables of letters or elements (stoicheia) ;
in the same fashion the true physicist investigates the universe by seeking the
elements (stoicheia) into which it can be resolved. The advocates of numbers
(arithmos) as principles (stoicheion) of all things agree with the advocates of atoms
(atomos) , homoeomeries (homoiomereia) , molecules (onkos) , minima (elachiston) ,
and incomposites {amere) , recognizing that principles must be non-phenomenal,
non-sensible, intelligible bodies. YAdversus Mathematicos, X, 248-57; cf. Pyrr. Hyp.,
Ill, 151-55, where numbers in turn are generated from the monad (monas) and the
indeterminate dyad (aoristos duas)]. In the same fashion, Galen emphasizes, in his
medical writings, the affinity of the atoms of Democritus and Epicurus and the
molecular masses (onkos) of Heracleides and Asclepiades, even to the extent of
reducing the differences in the case of Asclepiades to a difference of terms, the sub-
stitution of onkos for atomos and of poros for kenon. (De Theriaca ad Pisonem,
cap. 11, Claudii Galeni Opera Omnia, ed. C. G. Kiihn [Leipzig, 1827], vol. XIV,
p. 250.) Yet the molecules of Heracleides and Asclepiades were frangible or divisible,
and possessed qualities, and the terms " molecules " and " pore " have an Aristotelian
derivation which is clearer than their Democritean analogy, for they are terms used
in the discussion of homogeneous bodies in the Meteorology. Or again, Strato of
Lampsacus, the successor of Theophrastus as head of the Lyceum, is said to have
shown tendencies to atomism, yet he is also said to have treated elements as
" qualities "; this seems to be another case of the assimilation of a philosophy of
of elements to a philosophy of atoms, for it is clear that in his opposition to
Platonism, Strato based his analysis on " ultimate components " which he treated
quantitatively and qualitatively. Doctrines of elements tended to be likened to
atomism if the operations ascribed to the elements are naturalistic and mechanical;
elements may be incorporeal and qualitative and still be presented as atomic; if they
undergo qualitative changes and transmutations, exhibit purposive or teleologicaJ
orderings, or show effects attributable to God or the world-soul, they are not atomic.
It is relevant to this transformation of the characterization of elements that Galen
claimed to have added a fifth instrumental cause (di'hou) to the formal, final,
efficient and material causes of Aristotle.
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY IITH AND 12TH CENTURIES 85
The treatise On the Nature of Man by Nemesius, Bishop of
Emesa, probably written toward the end of the fourth century
A. D., was strongly influenced by the medical theories of Galen.
Nemesius presents man as a conjunction of natures or functions,
ranging from the inanimate and the irrational to the rational,
combining the visible and the invisible, and giving evidence
both of the elements of which he is composed and of the con-
junctive union in man and in the universe, in both the lesser
and the greater world, from which the Creator can be inferred.
Man shares properties with inanimate things, life with animate
beings, and knowledge with rational beings. He shares with
inanimate things body and the conjunction of the four elements;
he shares with plants the nutritive and generative powers; with
irrational animals he shares, in addition to these powers, volun-
tary motion, appetite and anger, and the sensitive and respira-
tory powers; with intellectual natures he shares rationality,
applying reason, understanding, and judgment, and following
virtues. He is midway between intellectual and sensible
essences, conjoined by body and corporeal powers with other
animals and with inanimate things and by reason with incor-
poreal substances. The Creator conjoined step by step the
diverse natures in order to make the universe one and of one
kind, and this is the best proof that there is one creator of all
existences.^' God adapted and conjoined all things to all things
harmoniously, and united into one, through the creation of
man, invisible and visible things.^^ Nemesius finds the Mosaic
account of creation bears out this analysis, and he organizes
his treatment of the nature of man in accordance with it,
presenting in turn the soul, the union of soul and body, and the
faculties of man, ranging from imagination and sense through
intellect, memory, thought, expression, passion, nutrition, pulse,
respiration, voluntary action, free-will, and providence.
The body is presented as a conjunction of elements in humors,
^^ Nemesii, Premnon Physicon a N. Alfano Achiepiscopo Salerni in Latinum trans-
latus, I, 8-11, ed. C. Burkhard (Leipzig, 1917), pp. 6-7.
'' Ibid., I, 23, pp. 9-10.
86 RICHARD MCKEON
homogeneous parts, and members.^^ Nemesius defines the cor-
poreal element {elementum rriundanuin) as the least part in
the composition of bodies. The mundane elements are four:
earth, water, air and fire. " They are the first and simple bodies
relative to other bodies. For every element is of the same kind
as the bodies of which it is an element. A principle is not of
the same kind as the things of which it is a principle, but an
element is wholly of one kind." -" He analyzes the four elements
by means of the four qualities hot and cold, wet and dry, but
he argues that these qualities are not elements because bodies
cannot be constituted of incorporeal things, and he treats the
problem of the order of elements in the organization of the
universe by interposition of elements to mediate between con-
trary qualities. He also expounds the Platonic analysis of
elements, distinguishing two ways in which he classifies ele-
ments: (1) by the regular solids, (2) by assigning three
qualities to each element — fire having sharpness, rarity, motion,
and earth, at the other extreme, having dullness, density, rest.
To these he added a third way used by some philosophers,
who distinguish the heavy elements, earth and water, from the
light elements, air and fire."^ The elements and the body enter
into the analysis of the functions of the soul, and Nemesius
expounds the Galenic theory of the localization of functions:
imagination in the anterior lobe of the brain," understanding
in the intermediate lobe,"" and memory in the posterior lobe,"*
adding that evidence for the localization of these functions was
derived from observation of brain lesions and diseases affecting
the brain."
Nemesius' On the Nature of Man was translated into Latin
in the eleventh century by Archbishop Nicholaus Alfanus under
the title Premnon Physicon or Key to Natural Things but with-
out mention of the name of the author or of the title he gave
"/6i(Z., IV, pp. 59-61.
'" Ibid., V, 1-2, p. 62. '" Ihid., XII, 3, p. 87.
" Ihid., V, 24-25, pp. 67-69. ^* Ibid., XIU, 7, p. 89.
" Ibid., VI, 4, p. 73. ^^ Ibid., 8-13, pp. 89-90.
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY IITH AND 12TH CENTURIES 87
his work. It was translated again in the twelfth century by
Richard Burgundio of Pisa, who was under the impression that
it was written by Gregory of Nyssa. Alfanus's version was used
by Albertus Magnus, and Burgundio's is quoted by Peter
Lombard and Thomas Aquinas.
Some remnants of these distinctions are transmitted to the
Middle Ages by Isidore of Seville. Cassiodorus (490-583) had
recommended the reading of Latin translations of Hippocrates
and Galen,"*' but manuscripts of these early translations have
not been found. He does not treat elements in his Institutiones,
but a section on the four elements is added in a later inter-
polation.^^ It deals with the order of elements familiar in
meteorology from the heavenly bodies to earth, and explains
the sequence of fire, air, water, and earth, by combinations of
the properties incorporeal, corporeal, immobile, mobile, sharp,
blunt (fire is sharp, incorporeal, mobile, as well as hot and dry;
earth is blunt, corporeal, immobile, as well as cold and dry)
which are caused by the influence of proximate elements. The
elements are also equated with regular solids and numbers:
fire with the pyramid and 12; air with the sphere and 24; water
with the icosahedron and 48; earth with the cube and 96. In
a diagram, the four elements, the upper three and the lower
three are connected by three sets of lines drawn in groups of
four to points numbered 576 (12 X 48) , 1152 (24 X 48) , and
2304 (48 X 48) . The text says that the lines indicate ways
in which the elements by their obvious contacts with each
other both prepare substances of different species from them-
selves and are combined because of the diversities in themselves.
This is the bond binding the union of the world, the relation
assembling the elements. The interpretation may be based on
"'Cassiodorus, Institutiones Divinarum et Humanarum Lectionum, I, 31, PL 70,
1146. He also recommends the reading of Caelius Aurelianus' On Medicine which
treats the problems of elements.
" Cassiodori Senatoris Institutiones, ed. R. A. B. Mynors (Oxford, 1937), pp.
167-8.
88 RICHARD MCKEON
Plato or Macrobius or on St. Ambrose's statement that the
Greek word stoicheia means joining with each other.^®
Isidore of Seville (560-636) takes up the elements in his
encyclopaedic Etymologies, briefly in his treatment of medicine,
and more fully as ordering principles in his treatment of the
universe. In medicine the four humors are explained by the
four elements; blood refers to air, choler to fire, melancholy to
earth, and phlegm to water."^ Man is composed of soul and
body; and his living flesh is compacted of the four elements .*°
The treatment of meteorology and geography opens with suc-
cessive chapters on the world, on atoms, on elements, on heaven,
and on the parts of heaven. Atoms are defined as " certain
parts of the bodies in the world so extremely minute that they
can neither be seen nor undergo tonne, that is, cutting, for which
reason they are called atoms." ^^ Isidore adds that there are
atoms in body, in time, in number, or in language. The list
recalls Aristotle's list of kinds of elements, but Isidore's criterion
for atoms is indivisibility: the atom of body is the indivisible
particle, of time the point or indivisible moment of time, of
number the unit, of language the letter. The chapter on
elements begins with a definition of the Greek word hyle as a
kind of first matter in no way formed but capable of all bodily
forms. The Greek word for elements, stoicheia, means those
things which agree with each other in a kind of concord of
society and communion, since they are said to be joined to
each other in a kind of natural proportion, and therefore the
sequence from fire, through air and water, to earth, and the
sequence back, are causal. All elements are present in all things,
but a thing is named from the preponderant element. Animate
beings are distributed among the elements by divine provi-
"* Ambrose, Hexaemeron, III, 4. PL 14, 176: "... atque ita sibi per hunc cir-
cuitum et chorum quendam concordiae societatisque conveniunt. Unde et Graece
stoicheia dicuntur, quae Latine elementuvi dicimus, quod sibi conveniant et
concinnant."
-* Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae, IV, 5.3; PL 82, 184C.
'"' Etymologiae, XI, 1; PL 82, 398-9.
" Ibid., XIII, 2, 472D-3B.
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY IITH AND 12TH CENTURIES 89
dence: heaven filled with angels, air with birds, water with fish,
and land with men and animals. Chapter 5 begins the treat-
ment of the heavens with the element aether or fire; Chapter 7
proceeds to meteorology by way of air; Chapter 12 begins the
treatment of waters with the element water; and Book XIV,
which is devoted to the earth and its parts, has an opening
chapter on the element earth.
The Venerable Bede (672-735) follows a similar order in his
On the Nature of Things. A fourfold distinction concerning
the divine creation is made in the first chapter; one phase of
creation is that the elements of the world were made together
in unformed matter. In the formation of the world it is
specified, in the second chapter, that heaven, earth, angels, air,
and water were made from nothing in the beginning, and the
elements are used to differentiate the six days of creation.
Elements enter into the definition of the world in the third
chapter. The fourth chapter is on the elements and their
influence on each other and the mixtures they form are stated
in terms of the qualities heavy and light, hot and cold, moist
and dry.^" Astronomical questions are introduced by considera-
tion of the element fire in Chapter 5; the transition to meteor-
ological questions is made in Chapter 25, on air; waters are
treated after Chapter 38 on the differentiation of salt and fresh
waters; geographic questions are introduced by Chapter 45, on
earth.
Bede makes use of the idea of atoms in his treatment of time.
In Chapter 3 of the De Temporum Ratione, on " the most
minute spaces of times," he calls the minimum indivisible part
of time atoms. Days are divided into 12 hours, and hours into
12 points, 10 minutes, 15 parts, 40 moments — points and minutes
being measured on clocks, parts on the circle of the Zodiac,
moments by the swiftest motion of the stars. The least of all
divisions of time which can in no way be divided further is
called the atoTn in Greek, that is, the indivisible. Because of
its smallness it is preceptible by grammarians rather than
*^ Venerable Bede, De Natura Rerum, I-IV, PL 90, 187-96.
90 RICHARD MCKEON
calculators, for grammarians divide verses into words, words
into syllables, syllables into feet, and feet into long and short,
and since it is impossible to divide further, the short foot is
the atom. Bede rejects the divisions of time proposed by the
astrologer, and concludes his treatment of atoms by quoting
Paul on the speed of resurrection: " We shall not all sleep, but
we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye,
at the last trumpet." ^^ Bede's text, however, reads " atom "
instead of " moment," and he therefore defines the atom of
time by the flash of an eye which cannot be divided or cut,
and which is sometimes called " moment," sometimes " point,"
and sometimes " atom." ^* Bede's interpretation of Paul could
have been derived from Augustine, and one of the continuing
sources of information concerning the meaning of atom during
the Middle Ages was interpretations of the New Testament. ^^
The elements of the world, the seasons of the year, and the
humors of man are distinguished by the same qualities and for
this reason man is a microcosm or lesser world. Air, spring,
and blood which grows in spring, are damp and warm; fire,
summer, and red choler, which develops in summer, are hot
and dry; earth, winter, and black choler are dry and cold; water,
autumn and phlegm are cold and damp. Moreover the succes-
sive ages of man and the different temperaments of men are
determined by the predominance of one or another of the
humors.^®
Rhabanus Maurus (748-856) treats the world in Book IX of
his De Universo in the manner of Isidore of Seville, even to the
^^ I Corinthians, 15: 51-52.
" De Temporum Ratione, iii. PL 90, 302-7A.
35 I
St. Augustine, Sermo, CCCLXII, 16, 19-18, 20. PL. 29, 1623-25. Augustine
explains the atom in time by the atom in body. He remarks that many do not
know what an atom is, and then defines atom from tom,e or cutting, so that atomos
means what cannot be cut. He uses the division of a stone into indivisible parts to
clarify the division of a year into like parts. Moreover, he argues that the ictus oculi
by which Paul explains atomus, does not mean the opening or shutting of the eye,
but the emission of rays from the eye to what is to be seen, including distant objects,
such as heavenly bodies.
*^ De Temporum Ratione, XXXV, 457C-9A.
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY IITH AND 1-TH CENTURIES 91
extent of repeating in the first two chapters Isidore's treatment
of atoms and of elements.^' He follows Bede in his treatment
of time, but his edition of the Epistle to the Corinthians has
" momentum " instead of " atomum." He therefore adapts
Bede's definition of " moment," and treats the moment as the
minimum and smallest time measured by the motion of the
stars. But he also remarks that another edition of the text
of Paul has in atomo et in ictu oculi, gives the etymology of
atomos, and explains that atoms of time are perceptible to
grammarians rather than to calculators.^^
The marks and remnants of older distinctions concerning
elements are plentiful, but the medical writings which were
translated during the eleventh century used elements more
systematically to explain the phenomena of nature and pro-
vided greater precision of statement and more diversified data
of application in the use of elements as principles. Constantine
the African (c. 1015-1087) translated from the Arabic, or
adapted, several books attributed to Galen, in which elements
are treated in detail, as well as Isaac Israeli's Book of Elements,
but the analysis of elements in the Pantegni, an adaptation of
a portion of the Royal Book of Medicine of Haly Abbas, which
is the tradition of Galen concerning elements, had a clearly
marked influence.^" The Pantegni begins, in medieval fashion,
by reciting the six things which should be known about a book:
the intention of the book, its utility, its title, what part of
learning it deals with, the name of its author, the division of
the book. The author's name is given as Constantine the
African, who brought the materials together from writings of
many authors. It was Constantine's ambition to write a book
covering the whole of theoretical and practical medicine, which
"Rhabanus Maurus, De Universo, IX, 1 and 2, PL 111, 262A-3A.
" Ibid., X, 2, 286A-B.
" Constantini Africani, Opera, Basel, 1536 and 1539. Several of Constantine's
translations are published among the works of Isaac Israeli, Opera Omnia Ysaac,
Lyons, 1515. Thus, only the portion of the Pantegni devoted to theory is published
in the 1539 volume of Constantine's works; both parts. Theory and Practice, are
in the edition of Isaac.
()2 lUCIIARD MCKEON
would make unnecessary the reading of any other book for
preparation or supplementation. Medicine, he argues, is more
necessary and of greater dignity than all the other arts, since
without health of body rationality is impossible, and \vithout
rationality science is impossible. But to understand this art,
dialectic and the arts of the quadrivium must first have
been mastered. Moreover, medicine covers the whole scope
of science, for science is divided into logic, ethics, and physics,
and medicine deals with all three of these parts, but falls
entirely under none.
The Pantegni is divided into two parts, Theory and Practice,
and each in turn is divided into ten parts. Theory is per-
fect knowledge of things to be seized by intellect alone and
stored in memory for the control of those things; practice is
the manifestation of theory in things of sense and in manual
operations in accordance with understanding of the preexisting
theory. Theory is divided into three parts — the sciences of
natural things, of non-natural things, and of things outside
nature. Practice is the science of caring for the healthy and
curing the sick with diet, potion, and surgery. Natural things
are those necessary to the subsistence of bodies and pertaining
to their contruction or destruction. Natural things have seven
kinds of parts, three of which are common to sensible and
insensible things, that is, elements, complexions, and actions,
and four of which are proper to sensible things alone, that is,
humors, members, virtues, and spirits. There are six non-
natural causes — the air about the human body, motion and rest,
food and drink, sleep and waking, inanition and continence, and
the accidents of the soul. There are three things outside nature
— disease, the causes and signs of disease, and the accidents of
disease. The theoretic portion of the treatise proceeds syste-
matically from elements to complexions of elements to members
and virtues of members; then non-natural things and things
beyond nature are treated.
The element, as philosophers define it, is a simple and mini-
mum particle of composite bodies. The elements include fire,
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY IITH AND 12TH CENTURIES 93
air, water, earth, but not rocks and metals which, though
simple to sight are composite to understanding. The elements
are themselves indestructible, and the destruction of all other
things consists in their return to the elements of which they
were composed. Constantine scouts the idea of a single element,
whether atoms or any one of the ordinary four elements, with
arguments, ascribed sometimes to Hippocrates, designed to
show that it is impossible for a single thing to generate things
diverse from itself without commixture with other things. The
four elements are the hot, the cold, the dry, and the moist —
not the qualities simply, rather heat actually perfect is fire;
actual and perfect cold is water; naturally perfect moistness is
air; and the perfectly dry is earth. Each element acquires a
second quality from the element contiguous to it: from the
motion of the circle of the moon which is next to it, fire acquires
dryness; air acquires heat from its contiguity to fire; water
has dampness from the propinquity of air, and earth coldness
from water. The qualities light and heavy are likewise divided
among the elements, fire being most light, earth most gross
and heavy, air and water falling between the two.
The compounds of elements from which bodies are formed
are called complexions. They may be of varying degrees, and
the quality and function of the whole is determined by the
preponderant element. Sensation is explained by the temper-
ateness of the complexion of the organs. Thus, nothing would
be perceived by touch if the organ were not changed into the
quality perceived; if the organ of touch were not temperate
it would not distinguish between hot and cold, soft and hard,
smooth and rough. Man is the most temperate of all animals.
Unlike the brute which is possessed of a single function, he can
do all things, and he is rational and intellectual because he can
understand and distinguish by reason whatever he does. The
complexions are instruments of nature or of the soul or of both.
Each animal has instruments of the body in agreement with
the virtues of the soul, for the government of all bodies is either
by the soul and nature or by nature alone, that is, nature rules
04, RICHARD MCKEON
in both animate and inanimate bodies, the soul only in animate
bodies. Certain virtues must be present if the body is to com-
plete its operations.
Constantine lists three general virtues: one pertains only to
nature and is therefore called natural; a second, pertaining to
the soul, only vivifies and is called spiritual; a third, also per-
taining to the soul, gives understanding, sense, and voluntary
motion, and is called animate. The action of natural virtue,
which consists in generation, nutrition, and growth, is universal
in animals and plants. Spiritual virtue is common to rational
and irrational animals, but not to plants; it consists in the
vivification which is accomplished by the action of the heart
and the dilation and contraction of the arteries for the con-
servation of natural bodily heat. The animate virtue is partly
common to rational and irrational animals, for both participate
in sense and voluntary motion, and partly not, for only rational
animals have fantasy, reason, and memory. This analysis per-
mits the reduction of all actions to kinds of motion, and
Constantine elaborates the enumeration of six kinds of motion,
two simple and four complex, all depending ultimately on the
simple contraries.
The details of medical theory and practice, for which this
analytic structure was prepared, are organized relative to the
means of recognizing and controlling the mixtures of these
qualities, Constantine is credited with a translation of The
Book of Degrees (Liber de Gradibus) ascribed to Isaac Israeli
but of unknown origin, in which medicinal simples are con-
sidered in terms of their varying degrees of hot and cold, dry
and moist. Constantine reports four principal grades: a food
or medicine is in the first degree of heat if it is below that of the
human body; in the second degree if it is of the same tempera-
ture; in the third degree if it is somewhat hotter; in the fourth
if it is extremely hot. The consideration of the contraries is an
analytical device for the unification of physiology, pathology,
and therapy. The doctrines of the four elements and the four
qualities, whose development can be traced from Hippocrates
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY IITH AND 12TH CENTURIES 95
through Aristotle to Galen, were at times used for discovery
or systematization of knowledge and at times as repetitive
formulae for easy analogies or empty classifications. Their use
in the twelfth century was as principles employed over a
broadening scope in intellectual curiosity and on a diversifying
body of empirical and rational data.
The framework within which the analysis of elements was
fitted in the twelfth century was a Platonic conception of the
universe derived from Plato's Timaeus and Latin Platonists,
like Apuleius and Macrobius, with echoes of Hermes Tris-
megistus and the pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, a human-
istic study of the liberal arts in which rhetoric and dialectic
colored an Aristotelian scheme of categories, syllogisms, and
topics, and a tradition of interpretation of the Mosaic account
of creation which used Platonic conceptions and methods
derived, by way of Augustine and Ambrose, from the Greek
Hexaemerons and Philo. The medical conception of elements
lent concreteness, specificity, and empirical detail to the con-
sideration of the nature of things, but it also accentuated the
tendency to use a variety of structures or organisms as models
for the universe or to use the structure of the universe as a
model for other lesser wholes, and therefore to analogize man
and universe (microcosm and macrocosm) , human soul and
world-soul, deliberate action and physical motion, in the treat-
ment of cosmology, psychology, physiology, geography, and
history. This merging of Platonism, the liberal arts, and the
new sciences was one of the distinguishing marks of the school
of Chartres in the twelfth century.
William of Conches (c. 1080-1145) , whom John of Salisbury
calls the most richly endowed grammarian (John's epithet
opulentissimus has also been interpreted as a reference to the
high fees of grammarians) , was a grammarian and wrote
treatises of science and ethics. He was influenced by Thierry
of Chartres and Peter Abailard in cosmology and theology, and
he quotes Constantine the African about elements. William
divides science into two species in his Gloss on Boethius' Con-
96 RICHARD MCKEON
solation of Philosophy: eloquence and wisdom. Eloquence is
the science of presenting what is known with the proper orna-
ments of words and sentences; it is a species of science because
all science consists of only these two parts, knowing things and
presenting what is known well. Eloquence is not philosophy,
nor any part of philosophy, but without philosophy, eloquence
is a hindrance rather than an aid. William's division of phi-
losophy is Aristotelian rather than Stoic: practical and theo-
retical, each in turn divided into three parts, practical into
ethics, economics, and politics, and theoretical into theology
(the study of incorporeal things) , mathematics (the quad-
rivium) , and physics (the study of the properties and qualities
of bodies) . The proper order of learning is from the study of
eloquence (from grammar through dialectic to rhetoric) to the
study of practical problems to the study of theoretic problems,
beginning with bodies in physics and proceeding through mathe-
matics— arithmetic, music, geometry, astronomy — to the con-
templation of incorporeal things and to the Creator in theology.
The Philosophy of the World was written, according to
William's Preface,*" because he saw so many men arrogating to
themselves the name of Master, who have dissolved the union
between eloquence and wisdom, who spend their time sharp-
ening a sword they never use in battle, and who know nothing
of philosophy, yet blush to confess themselves ignorant of
anything and, seeking solace for their lack of learning, proclaim
to less cautious men that the things they do not know are of
little utility.
The use of elements to organize bodies of knowledge and
empirical data continues to employ two philosophical assump-
tions: that the invisible things of the world are understood by
the things that are made,*^ and that the existence of causes
*° The De Philosophia Mundi or the Peri Didaxeon sive Elementorum Philosophiae
Libri IV has been ascribed to several philosophers and has been published as the
work of William of Hirschau, the friend of St. Anselm (Basel, 1531), of the Venerable
Bede (PL 90, 1127-78) and Honorius of Autun (PL 172, 39-102). The reference is
to Book I, Praefatio (in the Honorius of Autun edition) PL 172, 41-43.
*^ The inference from visible to invisible, which is used by the pseudo-Clement
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY llTH AND 12TH CENTURIES 97
is proved from consideration of the characteristic of effects/^
WiUiam opens his treatise with the definition of philosophy as
" the true comprehension of things which are and are not seen
and of things which are and are seen," and specifies that the
first are incorporeal things, and the second corporeal things,
whether they are possessed of divine or perishable bodies.*^
He treats incorporeal things first — God, the soul of the world,
demons, and the souls of men. Since God can be known in
this life, William undertakes to prove his existence to the
incredulous by arguments from the creation of the world and
from its daily disposition. The first argument begins with the
fact that the world is compounded from contrary elements, hot
and cold, wet and dry. This composition of the world might
have been effected by nature, or chance, or some artificer.
Not by nature, since nature flees contraries and seeks similars.
Not by chance, since simpler constructions, like houses, are not
made by chance, and, moreover, chance is the unexpected
occurrence of a thing from a confluence of causes, but nothing
preceded the world except the Creator. But the artificer was
not man, since the world was made before man; nor an angel,
since the angels were made with the world; therefore the
artificer was God. The second argument, from the daily dis-
position of things proceeds similarly. Whatever is disposed is
disposed in accordance with some wisdom, and in the case of
the world it is not human or angelic but divine wisdom. From
the daily disposition of things one attains to the divine wis-
dom, and from the divine wisdom to the divine substance.
and many of the Church Fathers, finds support in Paul (Rom. 1: 20, "For the
invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being under-
stood by the things that are made ") and elaboration in Platonic philosophies.
*^ The dependence of phenomena perceived by sense or reason on a transcendent
cause, equally well established in the Christian tradition, finds like support in Paul
(Col. 1: 16, "For by him were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are
in earth, visible and invisible ") and its elaboration may have an a ])riori Platonic
turn, in which man and the world are image, likeness, or imprint and reasoning
about them proceeds by models, or an a ■posteriori Aristotelian or Stoic turn in
which phenomena are effects and reasoning about first causes proceeds from effects.
" De Philosopkia Mundi, I, 1-3, PL 172, 43B-C.
98 RICHARD MCKEON
Philosophers say that in this Divinity, which is maker and
governor of all things, power, wisdom, and will are present,
corresponding to the persons of the Trinity, power to the
Father, wisdom to the Son, and will to the Holy Spirit.
In this work William only touches on the world soul, enu-
merating three opinions about it. Some think the world Soul
is the Holy Spirit, for all things which live in the world
live by the divine goodness and will which is the Holy Spirit.
Some think that it is a natural vigor placed by God in the
world by which some beings only live and others live and
perceive and think; some, finally, think that it is a kind of
incorporeal substance which is whole in each body although
it does not perform the same functions or operations in all
because of the comparative slowness of some bodies. In his
Gloss on Boethius, however, William states his own doctrine,
characteristically combining aspects of the three: the world
soul is a natural vigor by which all things have their being,
their motion, their growth, perception, life, reason; its effects
differ in different subjects; and the natural vigor is the Holy
Spirit. William's discussion of the third kind of incorporeals,
demons, is based, as his critics were quick to point out, on
Plato as well as on Scripture and the Fathers. William argues
that even Plato's division of good demons (kalodaimones) into
two genera is not inconsistent with the Scriptural division of
angels into nine orders, since Plato divides them according to
the places they occupy and the Bible according to the functions
they perform. The treatment of the fourth kind of incorporeals,
souls of men, is postponed to the consideration of man in
Book IV.
When William makes the transition from things which are
and are not seen to things which are and are seen, he warns
the reader that his manner of presentation must change since
his exposition will use either statements that are probable and
not necessary or statements that are necessary and not prob-
able, " for as philosophers we posit the necessary even if it is
not probable, and as physicists we add the probable even if
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY 11TH AND 12TH CENTURIES 99
it is not necessary." ** His claim for his treatment is that
nothing more probable will be found in the works of " modern
physicists." Since things which are and are seen are bodies,
and since all bodies are composed of elements, his starting point
is with elements as Constantine defines them. " An element,
therefore, as Constantine says in the Pantechne, is a simple
and minimum part of any body, simple with respect to quality,
minimum with respect to quantity." *^ William interprets this
to mean that an element is " a simple part, which has no
contrary qualities," which Constantine expands, in order to
exclude homogeneous wholes, like bones, by adding " a mini-
mum part, which is a part of something in such wise that
nothing of the same sort is part of it." Letters are elements
in like fashion because they are parts of syllables in a way in
which nothing is part of them. Constantine undertook to derive
humors from the composition of the four elements, then homo-
eomeries or " consimilar parts," like flesh and bone, as well as
organic or " instrumental parts," like hands and feet, from
humors, and finally, the human body from these two kinds
of parts. Consequently, the elements are not " things which
are seen," the earth, water, air, and fire, which are commonly
called elements, for those are not simple in quality or minimum
in quantity, but each is seen to contain all the qualities, as
there is in earth, for example, something of hot, of cold, of dry,
and of moist.
William argues therefore that the elements of corporeal things
or things which are seen are incorporeal or things which are
not seen. Division is of two sorts: the human body can be
divided into members and homoeomeries actually, but only the
understanding divides homoeomeries into humors and into
elements. The power of the understanding, as Boethius points
out, is to disjoin the conjunct and to conjoin the disjunct. If it
is asked where the elements are, the answer is that they are in
composition of bodies as the letter is in the composition of
syllables but not in itself {per se) . Some thinkers, like simple
"■'Ibid., I, 20, PL 172, 48C-D. "/6«Z., 21, 48D-9A.
100 RICHARD MCKEON
minds, know nothing unless they can comprehend it by sense,
but the investigations of the wise man must be concerned more
with insensible than with sensible things. The elements are
simple and minimum parts determined by simple, non-contra-
dictory qualities, as earth is by cold and dry. The parts which
are seen are composites in which one of the elementary particles
dominates, as the composite in which cold and dry particles
predominate is called earth. If one wishes to apply separate
names to the two, William says, the particles which are not
seen may be called the elements, elementa, and the particles
which are seen may be called the elemented, elevientata, prod-
ucts or mixtures of elements.'*^ Some philosophers who have
read neither the writings of Constantine nor those of any other
physicist say that the elements are the properties or qualities
of things which are seen, that is, dryness, coldness, dampness,
and heat. William uses quotations from Plato, Johannitius, and
Macrobius to prove that the qualities are in the elements, and
therefore, the elements are not the qualities. Other philosophers
say that things which are seen are elements, and William argues
that there is no contradiction between this position and that
of Constantine, although they treat two different kinds of
elements. Constantine treats the natures of bodies as a physi-
cist, and he calls the simple and minimum particles of bodies
" elements " in the sense of first principles. Philosophers who
investigate the creation of the world rather than the natures of
individual bodies call the four parts which are seen " elements "
because the world is composed of them and they were created
first. If it is said that these are not elements, because they are
made of the four elements, and earth, for example, contains
some water, and that Plato asks how one is to decide during
the transmutation of elements whether to call it earth or
water,*' William's reply is that the earth in question is some-
thing porous and saturated with water, and even if it is dis-
"Cf. Tlieodore Silverstein, " Elementatum: its appearance among the Twelfth
century Cosmogonists," Medieval Studies, XVI (1954) , pp. 156-162.
*■' Plato, Timaeus 49B-C.
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY llTH AND 12TH CENTURIES 101
solved in water, it is' not the element " earth " but the
" earthly," which is " part of the element," which is dissolved.
Therefore the elements of bodies are the particles and the
elements of the world are accounted for by their conjunctions
and mixtures.
William raises two more questions which have the same
characteristic of relating the problem of how wholes are com-
pounded of parts and how intelligible principles are used to
structure sensible data, that is, how the incorporeal things of
understanding are related to the corporeal things of sensible
experience. They are the questions (1) of the composition of
the universe or of the bonds by which elements are joined
together in compounds and organisms and (2) of the origin
of the universe or whether the elements were formed from a
preexistent chaos or were present in the chaos. Both questions
raise issues which are philosophic in character about the
defining properties of elements which are qualitatively simple
and quantitatively minimum in kind, and about how they
" are " (corporeal or incorporeal) and " are understood " (sen-
sible or intellectual) .
William's treatment of the structure of the universe is based
on Plato's demonstration that between extreme elements fire
and earth, two and not more than two elements, air and water,
are needed to establish the unity and cohesiveness of a uni-
verse.^* Plato's argument is that that which comes to be must
be corporeal and therefore visible and tangible, for the basic
proportion underlying his account of creation is that being is
to becoming as thought and reason are to opinion and sensa-
tion. William interprets Plato's statement that Divine Reason
ordained that the universe be so constructed as to be percep-
tible to sight and to touch as a consequence of the purpose in
creation that man should see even with his eyes in the creation
and government of things the divine power and wisdom and
goodness, should fear the power, venerate the wisdom, and
imitate the goodness. But sight is impossible without fire and
''/?>irf., 31B-32C.
102 RICHARD MCKEON
touch is impossible without earth, and the conjunction of fire
and earth, which are opposed by contraries (since fire is subtle,
mobile, and acute and earth is corporeal, obtuse, and immobile)
required the interposition of one or more middle terms. William
distinguishes mixture {commistid) , in which neither of the
contraries remains what it was before, from conjunction (con-
junctio) , in which both the contraries remain what they were
before. Conjunction is impossible in the case of active qualities
(like hot and cold) unless they are separated by a middle term
to prevent one from dissolving the other. Wishing to conjoin,
not mix, fire and earth that both would remain what it is, God
created between the two elements, not one, but two more
elements, water and air. For if he had placed only water
between them it would be conjoined to earth more than to
fire, for it shares corporality and obtuseness with earth and
only mobility with fire, and that conjunction would not endure;
similarly, if only air were placed between, it would have
subtlety and mobility in common with fire and only obtuseness
with earth. To the objection that if one did not suffice, God
could make it suffice, William says that he does not put a
limit on God's power, but he says concerning things which are
that none could suffice nor could there be anything, according
to the nature of things, that would suffice.
Having shown that one would not suffice, he demonstrates
why there could not be anything that would suffice. Elements
may be separated by two contrary qualities or by three.
Between some binary pairs, one element would suffice as a
middle term; thus, in the case of earth, which is cold and dry,
and air, which is hot and damp, water (which shares coldness
with earth and dampness with air) is a term of separation and
connection. Between ternary terms there is no middle, since
any element would share one quality with one of the extremes
and two with the other. Moreover, even if fire and air are
treated in terms of two rather than three qualities no middle
could be found since fire is hot and dry, earth, cold and dry,
and any combination of the two qualities would be identical
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY 11 TH AND 12TH CENTURIES 103
with one of the two elements or the impossible combination, hot
and cold.*^ Of the six combinations of the four qualities, four
are possible and determine the four elements; and the remaining
two combinations, hot and cold, dry and wet, are impossible.
** The demonstration of the harmony or unbreakable chain of elements binding
the universe together, dependent on the interposition between fire and earth of two
and only two elements, goes back to Plato, but the changes in the properties of the
elements on which the demonstration depends mark changes in the doctrine of
elements. Plato's argument depends on the nature of proportion and of numbers:
if the universe had been a plane surface, one middle would have sufficed; since it is
solid two middle terms are required. Macrobius gives a rough translation of this
passage, omitting the references to proportions and square and cubic numbers;
instead he discusses hot and cold, dry and moist. (Commentarii in Somnium
Scipionis, VI, 23-33) . The Medieval tradition, finally, presents the Platonic analysis
of elements as permutation of sets of three qualities, elaborated and systematized
from his account of the properties of elements resulting from the geometric forms
assigned to them (Timaeus, 55C-56B) . The systematic account of the six qualities
of the elements is known as early as Nemesius, and scholars have argued that his
source is a lost commentary of Posidonius on the Timaeus or a lost commentary of
Porphyry. If the problem is treated in terms of three qualities, the two extreme
elements of the universe are opposed by sets of contrary qualities — subtle, mobile,
acute (fire) vs. corporeal, immobile, obtuse (earth) , whereas if it is treated in
terms of two qualities, the contraries separate the elements in groups of threes, but
the two extreme elements are not opposed by contrary qualities — hot, dry (fire)
vs. cold, dry (earth) — and therefore, according to Nemesius (V, 11, p. 64). the
sequence of elements is not merely an ascent and a descent but a circle, since fire
shares with earth the quality dry. ^Miatever the origin of the analysis in which each
element is characterized by three qualities, the Latin writers of the Middle Ages
learned the distinctions it employs from the Commentary of Chalcidius on the
Timaeus. The sequence of elements between the two extremes, fire and earth, as
set forth by Chalcidius, may be schematized as follows —
Ignis — acutus subtilis mobilis
Aer — obtunsus subtilis mobilis
Aqua — obtunsa corpulenta mobilis
Terra — obtunsa corpulenta immobilis
The two extreme pairs — fire-air and water-earth — share two qualities and are
opposed in one; the sequence consists in the change of one quality at each step;
the two extremes are opposed in all three contrary qualities. Chalcidius' translation
and commentary (in the manuscripts that have come to us) are incomplete. The
translation breaks off at 53C, immediately before the analysis of the mathematical
forms which constitute the elements and of the sequence of the elements relative to
each other. The Commentary is also incomplete: the list of topics enumerated is
not completed; nonetheless the treatment of the elements is complete and it runs
through all three forms of analysis. The theory of the elements as mathematical
104 RICHARD MCKEON
Finally, the sequence of the elements from fire to earth is
shown to involve an order of lightness and heaviness.^"
The resolution of the second question, that of the place of
the elements in the creation of the universe, according to
William, is also worked out in opposition to a widely held
position. Almost all philosophers say that the elements did
not occupy fixed places in the first creation but were mixed
in one mass and therefore moved up or down together. This
position is derived from Ovid and Hesiod, but its proponents
add a reason for it (that the Creator might show how great
the confusion of things would be if they were not ordered by
his power and wisdom and goodness) , and they add the
authority of Plato who said that God reduced the elements
from an unordered scattering to order.^^ William argues that
the position is false, the argument invalid, and the authority
incorrectly interpreted. The position is false because elements
must be bodies, or spirits, or properties of bodies or of spirits;
he shows that they cannot be any of these except bodies, and
bodies occupy place. The argument is invalid because before
the creation there were neither angels nor men to show how
great the confusion of things would be. The quotation from
forms is expounded and elaborated. The theory of the three quahties constituting
the elements is developed (Platonis Timaeus, Interprete Chalcidio cum eiusdem
Commentaria, XXI-XXII, ed. J. Wrobel, Leipzig, 1876, pp. 87-8) as commentary
on Plato's argument that the elements are required to explain how the world is
sensible (Timaeus 31C; it makes use, however, of distinctions from 55C-56C) , since
what comes into being must be material and capable of being seen and touched.
The treatment of the two qualities (hot or cold and dry or moist) constituting the
elements is part of the analysis of matter (silva or hyle) , which is without qualities,
and the transmutation of the elements (ibid., CCCXVII-CCCXXIX, pp. 341 fE.) .
The excerpt on the four elements which appears in Cassiodorus' Institutiones is
given without derivation (Mynor's note [p. 167] is " Quod unde dictum sit pudet
me nescire ") . The analysis set forth in the interpolated passage is clearly derived
from Chalcidius' Commentary on the Timaeus.
^° William's analysis combines the three modes of treatment of the elements that
were observed in Nemesius — (1) two qualities, heavy and light, assigned to the
elements in pairs of elements, (2) four qualties, hot, cold, dry, wet, assigned two
to each element, and (3) six qualities, obtuse, acute, mobile, immobile, subtle,
coropreal, assigned three to each element.
"^ Timaeus, 53B.
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY IITH AND lliTH CENTURIES 105
Plato is incorrectly interpreted because Plato did not hold that
the elements were actually in an unordered scattering, but that
they could be, and in the first creation they were where they
now are, but they were thicker, in so far as they were mingled,
and obscurer in as much as there were no sun, moon, or stars
to light them. The stars, thus, were made from all four ele-
ments, the upper elements which are \Tisible and mobile, and
the lower elements which are obscure and immobile. The stars,
which are visible, shining, and mobile, have their qualities from
the interplay of the properties of the elements, and in that
interplay each of the four qualities is found in the visible forms
in which the elements appear. According to Constantine each
of the elements has two qualities, one proper to itself, the other
from another element; fire hot of itself, dry from earth; air
damp of itself, hot from fire; water cold of itself, damp from air;
earth dry of itself, cold from water.
The stars, being fiery in nature, began to move immediately
on their generation and to heat adjacent air and, through it as
intermediary, the further removed water. The various genera
of animals were created from heated water, birds in the air,
fish in the water, and other animals and man on the earth.
The theory of elements gives organization to William's encyclo-
paedic examination of the world and of its parts. At the
beginning of Book II, he describes Book I as a summary
exposition, within the limits of his small powers, " concerning
the particles of things which are and are not seen and con-
cerning elements which some teachers present as visible things,"
and he proposes now to take up in turn each element and its
embellishment (ornatus, i. e., kosmos) .
The opening chapter of Book II is on ether and its ornatus.
Fire is the space above the moon, and it is also called ether;
its ornatus is whatever is seen above the moon, that is, the
stars, both fixed and wandering. The book presents information
concerning the planets and astronomical phenomena. The
opening chapter of Book III is on air which extends from the
moon to the earth and is damper and thicker nearer to earth.
106 RICHARD MCKEON
The early chapters take up the zones of the air and the effect
of the heat of the sun raising water to form clouds, and the
transition from air to water is made in Chapter 14 on the
tides of the Ocean. The book presents information concerning
meteorological phenomena, snow, thunder, lightning, tides,
fountains, and wells. Book IV is devoted to the remaining
element, and begins with a chapter on earth and the world.
After sketching some geogi-aphical questions — the qualities of
earth, its inhabitants, the continents Asia, Africa, and Europe,
a translation is made to man in Chapter 7. Since the creation
of the first man, male and female, from dust was treated in
Book I, William undertakes now to treat " of the everyday
creation, formation, birth, ages, members of man, and of the
functions and uses of his members." He begins with the sperm,
traces man from the womb through infancy, examines his
organs, digestion, sleep, senses, soul, virtues, and youth and
old age largely in terms of the fundamental contraries. The
book ends with five chapters on teaching and the order of
learning.
William argues that man is by nature hot and cold and is
tempered by the interplay of the four qualities, so that dif-
ferences of virtue and temperament result from the intensifica-
tion and remission of the contrary qualities. ^^ He follows
Constantine's localization of the functions of the mind in the
three cells of the brain. The anterior cell is called fantastic,
that is, visual or imaginative, because it is the seat of the
power of seeing and understanding; it is hot and dry to attract
the forms of things and colors. The middle cell is called
logistic, that is rational, because it is the seat of the power of
distinguishing; it is hot and moist that it may conform to the
properties of things and distinguish better. The posterior cell
is called memorial, because it is the seat of the power of
retaining; it is cold and dry in order to retain better. This
localization was determined, according to William, by observa-
tion of wounds of the head in which it was noted that injuries
" De PhUosophia Mundi, IV, 20; PL 172, 93B-C.
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY IITH AND 12TH CENTURIES 107
to one of the cells resulted in the loss of the function associated
with it without affecting the other functions.^^ Sensation is a
function of the body which man shares with other animals;
distinguishing and understanding are functions of the soul,
peculiar to man. There are three powers of the soul: under-
standing {intelligentia) by which man perceives incorporeal
things with the certain reason why they are thus; reason by
which man perceives in what respects things agree with other
things and in what they differ; memory by which man firmly
retains what was known before.
The doctrine of elements provided William of Conches with
more than the simple parts from which to construct things,
organisms, and a universe; they were also principles for the
examination of the relation of corporeal things perceived in
sense experience to the incorporeal structures conceived by the
mind and used to explain the nature of corporeal things. The
processes of composition and resolution which related elements
as qualitatively and quantitatively simple parts to composite
wholes also crossed the line which separates seen from unseen
and corporeal from incorporeal. William's analyses therefore
have philosophic interest (since he explores the problems
involved in these relations) and empirical content (since the
structures w^hich he abstracts are found embodied in things
which are and are known) . The elements serve similar func-
tions in other twelfth century cosmologies, scientific treatises,
and encyclopaedias, and they provide common principles for
the work of William of Conches and the work of men like
Thierry of Chartres and Peter Abailard who influenced him and
of William of St. Thierry who criticized him.
Thierry of Chartres was Chancellor of the School of Chartres
from about 1141 to about 1150. John of Salisbury calls him
" the most zealous investigator of the arts," and another disciple
says he was " preeminent among the philosophers of all Europe "
{totius Europae philosophorum precipuus) . Bernard Sylvestris
dedicated the De Universitate Mundi to him, and two of his
" Ibid., IV, 24, PL 172, 95.
108 RICHARD MCKEON
pupils, Herman the Dalmatian (or Carinthian) and Robert of
Chester (or Katene) , in the dedication of their translation of
Ptolemy's Planisphere to him, address him as the first anchor
and sovereign of the second philosophy (the mathematical arts
of the quadrivium) , the immovable support of studies tossed
by every tempest, in whom relives the soul of Plato descended
from the heavens for the blessing of mortals, the true father
of Latin Studies.
Thierry says that his method of commenting on the first
part of Genesis is by distinctions which are literal and according
to physics. There are four causes of earthly subsistences: an
efiicient cause, God the Father; a formal cause, the wisdom
of God, or the Son; a final cause, the benignity of God, or the
Holy Spirit; and a material cause, the four elements. To say
In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth is to
say that he created matter in the first moment of time. Once
created, heaven could not remain immobile: in the revolution
which constituted the first day, the highest element, fire, illumi-
nated the lower element air. In the revolution of the second
day, fire through the medium of air, heated the lower element
water, vaporizing it into minute drops which can be suspended
in air; the firmament was thus placed in the midst of the water,
air being suspended between a layer of vaporized and a layer
of condensed water. Since the condensed water below was
diminished in that process, dry land appeared in the third
revolution; the action of the heat of the superior air and the
dampness of the earth produced herbs and trees. In the fourth
day, the bodies of the stars were created by contraction, caused
by heat, of the waters above the firmament. Heat was increased
in the revolution of the fifth day by the motion of the stars,
became vital, and produced fish in the waters and birds in
the air. On the sixth day, the vital heat proceeded to earth,
and the animals of the earth were created, including man made
in the image and likeness of God. After the sixth day no new
mode of creation was used, but new creatures were produced
from the seminal causes inserted in the elements in those first
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY IITH AND 12TH CENTURIES 109
stages of creation. Among the elements, fire is an active and
efficient cause, earth a passive and material cause, while air
and water are both active and passive, instruments and vehicles
of causation. Among the seminal causes which determine pro-
cesses and developments after the formation of the world are
gravity and lightness which bring the elements into inter-
relations in local motion.^*
Thierry proceeds from the creation of the world to an exposi-
tion according to the analysis of physicists (secunduvi rationem
physicoruTn) of the motions of heaven and earth as determined
by the properties and relations of elements. He argues that
when Moses said that the earth was without form and void,
and when he used other similar expressions, he was referring
to the " informity," or rather the " uniformity," of the four
elements. This " confusion " of elements, which the ancient
philosophers called matter (hyle) or chaos, is what Moses
signified by " heaven and earth."
The informity of those elements then consisted in the fact that
each of them was almost of the same sort as the others and that the
differences between them were minimum or almost nothing. There-
fore that difference was held by the philosophers to be nothing, and
they called the elements thus confused one unformed matter. Plato,
however, considering the minimum which separates the elements,
and knowing that the difference, although minimum, is present in
the confusion, concluded consequently that matter, that is, the con-
fusion of elements, underlies the four elements themselves, not in
the sense that that confusion preceded the four elements in time
or creation, but in the sense that confusion naturally precedes
differentiation, as sound precedes word, or genus precedes species.^^
When Moses went on to say that the spirit of the Lord moved
upon the waters (Gen. 1: 2) , he distinguished the operative
cause from the material cause. The power of the artificer,
whom he calls the spirit of the Lord, excels and dominates
'^^ Thierry of Chartres, De Sex Dierum Operibus, ed. M. Haureau, in Notices et
Extraits des Manuscrits de la Bibliotheque Rationale, Paris, 1888, vol. XXII, Part 2,
pp. 172-7.
" Ihid., p. 179.
no RICHARD MCKEON
matter in order to inform and order it, in a relation similar
to that which Plato, Hermes Trismegistus, and Virgil found
between God or spirit or world-soul and matter or hyle or
world. Having presented the two primordial causes of the
creation, matter and operative power (inateria et virtus opera-
trix) , Moses went on to demonstrate how and in what order
the spirit of the Lord operated on matter, but Thierry pauses
to examine the knowledge that man can have of the Creator
from creation. He distinguishes four kinds of demonstrations
{genera rationum) which lead from things to their creative
cause — arithmetical, musical, geometrical, and astronomical
proofs, but our manuscripts break off after an arithmetical
analysis of unity and equality and their bearing on the existence
of things.
Peter Abailard (1079-1142) developed a theory concerning
the nature of universals in his treatises on logic and dialectic,
and he drew conclusions concerning the nature of the artificer
and the elements of the world in the treatises in which he used
rhetoric or dialectic to interpret statements of Scripture and
facts of history or to interpret doctrines of prophets and phi-
losophers. He opens his Commejitary on the Epistle of S. Paul
to the Romans by observing that all Sacred Scripture has the
objective of teaching and moving like a rhetorical oration,^® and
that the two Testaments are therefore divided into three parts:
the law, to teach what should be done and avoided; the
Prophets or the Epistles, to dissuade from evils or persuade
to goods; and the histories, to provide examples. He interprets
Paul's statement that the invisible things of God are understood
by the things that are made, to mean that knowledge of the
universe as a vast fabrication or as effects may lead to knowl-
edge of its artificer as power, wisdom, and goodness. In his
interpretation of the passage from Paul, Abailard finds a similar
treatment of creation in Plato and Cicero; he argues that the
perception of the power, wisdom, and goodness of the Creator
^* Comvientariorum super S. Pauli ad Romanos Libri Quinque, Prologus
PL 178, 783B.
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY 11TH AND 12TH CENTURIES 111
is the discovery of the marks of the Trinity; and he analogizes
that knowledge to the perception, when a bronze statue is set
before the eyes, that the bronze and the bronze statue are the
same thing essentially and numerically and yet are diverse in
their properties.^^ His rhetorical method is apparent in his
Expositio in Hexaemeroji, in which he undertakes a threefold
interpretation — historical, moral, and mystic — " of the abyss
of profundity " of Genesis. As first step in the historical inter-
pretation, one must take into account the fact that Moses
addressed a carnal and uneducated people and sought to raise
them to a consideration of divine things. Moses therefore began
his exposition with the creation and disposition of the world,
for " God, who is invisible and incomprehensible in himself,
conveyed to us the first knowledge of himself from the mag-
nitude of his works, since all human knowledge arises from the
senses." ^^ To begin with creation is to follow the natural order
in addressing a carnal people, committed to the corporeal
senses, and not far advanced in spiritual understanding.
Christian philosophers had learned from Platonic and Stoic
philosophers to treat problems of wholes and parts by distin-
guishing the artificer or the efficient principle causing the unity
and the material principles compounded into wholes. Abailard's
exposition of the creation marks off the stages of formation by
means of the four elements and finds in the structure and
embellishments of the world evidence for the unity and trinity
of the Creator. The opening statement of Genesis, " In the
beginning God created the heaven and the earth," means that
the four elements were created first, " heaven " signifying the
light elements, fire and air, " earth " signifjang the heavy
" Ibid., I, PL 178, 802D-5A. The doctrine of the Trmity is developed in detail
in Abailard's Theologia Christiana, I, 2 and £f. (PL 178, 1124 fl.) . Abailard says
at the beginning of the second book of the Theologia Christiana that he has
assembled in the previous book quotations from the prophets and the philosophers
concerning the Trinity; in the second book he examines the relation between the
philosophical disciplines and religion. (Ibid., 1165 ff.) Cf. Introdiictio ad Theo-
logiam, I, 8-10 and 11. (Ibid., 989C-95B, and 1035 ff.)
^* Expositio in Hexaemeron, PL 178, 733A.
112 RICHARD MCKEON
elements, water and earth; and they were created " in the
beginning," because the first confusion or congeries of elements
constituted the matter for the formation of other bodies. Fire
and earth marked off the limits within which the other elements
provided connecting bonds and limiting differentiations, and
the whole constitution of the world consisted in the four
elments/® The Trinity is expressed in the beginning of Genesis,
and is developed more fully in the creation of man in the image
of God on the sixth day, for it is in power, wisdom, and love
that the likeness of the human soul to God is apparent.^" The
moral interpretation is based on the same distinctions as the
historical interpretation. Much as the confused congeries of
elements is later ordered, so too man, composed of soul and
body, but in the beginning unformed and incomposite in moral
character, is transformed from the initial confusion (symbolized
by the fluid element water) first by the light of faith, then by
hope, and finally by charity.®^ The mystical interpretation is
an allegory of cultural history proceeding through six ages, in
which the first age of primitive culture without law or art is
symbolized by the confused congeries of elements, and sub-
sequent ages follow like analogies to the days of creation, until
in the sixth age the future is extrapolated from the history of
the past.®^
It is apparent that the problem of elements is a problem of
parts and wholes, not in the simple sense that a whole is
compounded of parts, but in the more complex sense that a
whole persists through changes of parts and that a whole
is identifiable although characterized by different properties.
When changing wholes or inclusive wholes are under considera-
tion, the problem of part and whole becomes a problem of same
and other. Abailard distinguishes three senses of same and
other {idem et diversum) : as likeness, as essential sameness
but not same in number, and as sameness in property,^^ for the
" Ibid., 733C-7B. " Ibid., 770C-1D.
•° Ibid., 739B, 760B-1D. " Ibid., 771D-3A.
" Introductio ad Theologiam, 11, 12, PL 178, 1065.
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY IITH AND 12TH CENTURIES 113
examination of data in a universe, which is a whole charac-
terized by properties of dynamism, wisdom, and goodness,
requires an analytic device by which to identify the wholes
which remain the same essentially although characterized by
different properties. One analogy runs through his works, the
comparison of the distinction of Persons in the unity of God
to the distinction of properties in a physical object: in his
Covimentary on S. Paul he uses the analogy of a bronze statue;
in his Introductio ad Theologiam, a bronze seal; in his Theo-
logia Christiana, a wax image. In the later two works he adds
a third analogy, the characterization of man, to these two.^^
Bronze is the " matter " on which an artificer works to form
a seal; the seal, thus " mattered " (materiatum) and formed
(formatum) , is " scalable " (sigillabile) , that is, adapted to
impress an image on a soft substance like wax; when it is
actually used, it is " sealing " (sigillans) , that is, its act is the
transfer of the form to another matter. When the wax is being
sealed, the single bronze substance has three diverse predi-
cates: bronze, scalable, and sealing; bronze is matter, scalable
and sealings are " mattered." Abailard argues that the relation
of the persons of the Trinity is similar: wisdom is a kind of
power, as the bronze seal is a kind of bronze; benignity reforms
the image of God in us that we may conform to the image of
the Son of God, as sealing comes to be from bronze and the
scalable. In the same way the genus, animal, is the matter of
the species, man, for man is a kind of animal as the bronze
seal is a kind of bronze.®^ " Matter " and " mattered " in a
given image are the same, essentially, yet the matter precedes
the mattered; and a like precedence is found in each of the
related pairs of terms — constituent and constituted, cause and
effect, generating and generated.*^® The distinction and the
terms in which it is expressed are found in the eleventh century
** Expositio in Epistolam ad Romanos, PL 178, 804B-5A; Introductio ad Theo-
logiam, II, 13-14, PL 178, 1068C-70B, 1073A-5A; Theologia Christiana, III, IV,
PL 178, 1248B-9A, 1288A-90C.
«^ Introductio ad Theologiam, II, 13-14, 1068C-70B, 1073A-5A.
*» Theologia Christiana, IV, 1288A-90C.
114 RICHARD MCKEON
translations of Salerno. Alfanus, Archbishop of Salerno, dis-
tinguished materia from matenatum in his translation of
Nemesius. After pointing out that some philosophers held that
the soul is corporeal, while others held it was incorporeal, he
gives a Neoplatonic refutation of the corporeity of the soul:
the body needs a principle to hold it together; the principle is
either incorporeal or corporeal; if it is corporeal, it in turn
needs a principle to bind its constituents together. If the Stoics
say that the principle is a motion, one asks what is the power
or virtue (virtus) which causes this motion. If it is matter,
the previous arguments are repeated; if it is not matter, it is
" mattered " (materiatiim) , and the mattered will be different
from matter, for " what participates in matter is called
mattered." But if it is not matter, it is " immattered " and
all body is " mattered." "^ The Stoic distinction of an operative
and a material cause may, however, be joined to the distinction
between " matter " and " mattered " without becoming involved
in the Stoic materialism: " matter " is potentiality and the
" mattered " is potentiality restricted by a form which confers
a specific function or potentiality and from which a specific act
follows, but the distinction does not entail the consequence that
all things are corporeal.
William of St. Thierry (1085-1148) made elaborate use of
the doctrine of elements, but was critical of the use of physical
arguments to specify properties of God or the Trinity inferred
from creation. He was the adversary of Peter Abailard and
William of Conches and called their errors to the attention of
St. Bernard. In his Disputation against Peter Abailard, his
criticism of Abailard is that " he loves to think about all things
'■^ Nemesii, Premnon Physicon, pp. 25-26. The distinction of materia and materia-
tum used by Abailard, of elementum and dementatum used by William of Conches,
and of natura naturans and natura naturata, which came into use about the same
time or a little later, have common origins in translations from Greek or from
languages which preserve verbal forms of materia, elementum, or natura from which
passive (and sometimes also active) particles can be formed and recognized. In the
other languages the relation between matter, mattering, and mattered is lost in
the circumlocutions of translation of a work which examines that relation and is
inconspicuous in original inquiries into like problems employing the same data.
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY llTH AND 12TH CENTURIES ll5
and wishes to dispute about all things, about divine things
and about secular things equally." '^^ He criticizes Abailard's
use of power, wisdom, and benignity to differentiate the persons
of the Trinity. In particular, he criticizes his use of the analogy
of the bronze seal and the distinction between materia and
materiatum to explain the relation of the Father and the Son.**^
He expresses the wish that Abailard would read the Evangel
of God with the same simplicity as he reads Plato and that
he would imitate his beloved Plato, who proceeds cautiously
and prudently from the creation to the incomprehensibilities
of the Creator.^" He criticizes William of Conches for adding
a new philosophy to the theology of Abailard, confirming and
multiplying whatever Abailard said and adding more that he
did not say.'^ He says that William of Conches describes the
creation of the first man philosophically, or rather physically,
and holds that his body was not made by God, but by nature,
and that his soul was given to him by God, after his body had
been made by spirits, whom he calls demons, and by the stars.
William of Conches seems to him to follow the opinion of
certain stupid philosophers who say that nothing exists except
bodies and corporeal things, that God in the world is nothing
else than the concourse of elements and the harmony or tem-
perature of nature, and that he is himself a soul in body."
** Guillelmus Abbas S. Theodorici, Disputatio adversus Petrum Abaelardum ad
Gaufridum Carnotensem et Bernardum, 1, PL 180, 250A.
"* Ibid., 3, PL 180, 254C-7C. The analogy is also criticized by St. Bernard.
'" Ibid., 7, PL 180, 270C-D.
'^^ De Erroribus Guillelmi de Conchis ad Sanctum Bernardum, PL 180, 333 A.
" Ibid., PL 180, 339A-40A. Walter of Saint Victor says that " William of Conches
held that all things are made from the concourse of atoms, that is, of the most
minute bodies," and that Peter of Poitiers used atoms to prove that the flesh of
Christ was not in Abraham or Adam. (Contra Quatuor Labyrinthos Franciae, IV,
25, ed. P. Glorieux, Archives d'Histoire Doctrinale et Litteraire du Moyen Age, XIX
(1953) , 289.) In the Dragmaticon which is in dialogue form, William of Conches
replies to his interlocutor's question about Epicureanism, denying that he is an
Epicurean, but adding that there is no philosophic sect so false that it has no truth
mixed with its falsehood; the Epicureans are correct in saying that the world is
composed of atoms, wTong in supposing that the atoms were without beginning and
that the four bodies of the world were composed by the bombardment of large
IIG RICHARD MCKEON
William of St. Thierry is not opposed to the use of the
doctrine of elements. His treatise On the Nature of the Body
and the Soul treats its subject physically: Book I is entitled
" The Physics of the Human Body " and Book II " The Physics
of the Soul." All animal bodies are formed of earth, that is they
are composites of the four elements; for the earth, from which
they are formed, and what they consist of must be distinguished.
William follows Constantine's analysis, defining each element
by one quality to which a second quality is added from an
element adjacent to it, and he quotes the argument of Hippo-
crates that the animal body would feel no pain if it were
composed of one element. The elements are transformed into
one another; they form the humors and nourish them; and the
" children of the elements " follow the ways of their fathers,
for the elements operate in the greater world as the four
elements operate in the lesser world or microcosm, man.^^
William differentiates three virtues in the regimen of the body:
the natural virtue localized in the liver, the spiritual virtue in
the heart, and the animal virtue in the brain. His analysis of
these three virtues follows Constantine's position in detail, and
he shares his conclusions also on the localization of the functions
of imagination, reason, and memory in the three cellules of the
brain.'* The five senses correspond to the four humours: sight
is fiery; hearing, aerial; odor, smoky; taste, watery; and touch,
earthly. William characterizes the method of his treatment of
the exterior man as one in which he has considered not only
the exterior man but also certain things within human bodies
which are not subject wholly to the senses of man but are
discerned by philosophers and physicists through reason and
experience."
particles. Peter of Poitiers uses the word " atom " in his argument that the flesh
of Christ was not in Abraham, because there were not in Abraham as many atoms
as there have been men descended from him by concupiscence. (Sententiae, IV,
7, 11, PL 211, 1164C).
"" De Natura Corporis et Animae, I, PL 180, 695-8C.
'* Ibid., I, 700A-D and 702A-C.
" Ibid., I, 707B-708A.
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY — IITH AND 12TH CENTURIES 117
In his treatment of the soul, William of St. Thierry distin-
guishes the definition of the philosophers of this world, who
say that the soul is a simple substance, a natural species, dis-
tinct from the matter of its body, and possessed of the power
of life, from the definition of the ecclesiastical doctors, who
say that the soul is a proper substance created by God,
vivifying, rational, immortal, but convertible toward good and
evil. The soul vivifies the body in three manners — for the
purpose of living only, for the purpose of living well, and to
provide opportunity for the succession of future goods.^^ God
made man in his image and likeness, as a sculptor makes a
statue, combining in him virtues of inanimate things, plants,
animals, and angels. Moreover, since man is made in the image
of God, his soul is related to his body as God is related to the
world: it is everywhere and everywhere whole, whole in natural,
in spiritual, and in animal operations; ^^ and the image of the
Trinity is found in man's body and in his soul, for the soul,
which is one, is also memory, counsel, and will, and the body,
which is one, is also measurable, numerable, and weighable.'*
The works translated from Arabic and Greek, the epitomes
of the translators, and the treatises of Western philosophers
learned in the new sciences introduced further modifications in
the doctrine of elements. Avicebron (whose Fons Vitae, in
Latin translation, uses both elementatum and materiatura) ,
Gundissalinus, Herman of Carinthia, and Adelard of Bath
discuss the problems of determining simple parts and they use
them in the classification and analysis of a wide range of data.
The theoretic aspects of the problem become clear again in
the exploration of the consequences of alternative approaches
to elements; but the materials on which the schematisms are
employed, once the new materials treated in the translations
have become familiar, tend to fall into reiterative repetitions.
There is some indication that the distinctions based on elements
stimulated new observation in some fields, but the evidence is
ambiguous because the task of assimilating the new materials
'* Ihid., II, 707-9. " Ihid., I, 702C. " Ibid., II, 722A-23A.
118 RICHARD MCKEON
of the sciences was so great that what seems new is often the
interpretation of an old text newly acquired. It is ambiguous
also because the focus of inquiry was turning from the elements
or natures of things to the principles of motions or functions.
In that transition, the physical sciences of Aristotle are them-
selves interpreted in terms of elements rather than of principles.
Gundissalinus distinguishes natural bodies into simple and com-
posite and then divides natural science into eight large parts:
the investigation (1) of what is common to natural bodies,
simple and composite, as in Aristotle's Physics; (2) of simple
bodies in heaven and earth, as in the De Caelo et Mundo;
(3) of the mixture and corruption of natural bodies and the
generation and corruption of elements, as in the De Generatione
et Corruptione; (4) of the principles of the accidents and
passions of elements and composites, as in the De hnpres-
sionihus Siiperioiibus; (5) of bodies compounded of elements
and of bodies of similar or of dissimilar parts, as in the De
hnpressionibus Supeiiorum; (6) of bodies compounded of simi-
lar parts which are not parts of a body compounded of diverse
parts, as in the De Mineris; (7) of what is common to the
species of vegetables and what is proper to each of them, as in
the De Vegetabilibus; and (8) of what is common to the
species of animals and what is proper to each of them, as in
the De Ajiimalibus, the De Anima, and the books included up
to the De NaturalibusJ^ It is worth observing that the fact
that the title by which Aristotle's De Caelo was known during
the Middle Ages was De Caelo et Mundo suggested analogies
to the opening lines of Genesis concerning the creation of
the heaven (caelum) and the earth (terra) . Aristotle con-
ceived the history of natural philosophy to be an evolution
from elements as principles used by early philosophers to his
own methodical use of causes as principles. This history is
repeated in the transition from the eleventh to the twelfth
century, but ironically Aristotle's natural philosophy enters
into that transition as a philosophy of elements.
" Domingo Gundisalvo, De Scientiis, ed. P. Manuel Alonso Alonso (Madrid, 1954),
pp. 120-6.
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY 11 TH AND 12TH CENTURIES 119
After the first systematic commentaries on the newly trans-
lated scientific writings of Aristotle had appeared in the latter
half of the thirteenth century, the problem of elements began
to emerge again, and all the opposed conceptions were formu-
lated in terminology borrowed from the Aristotelian writings.
The discussion of least parts and simples in terms of kinds of
motion led into theories of minima and viaxima, and of simples
and composites; the discussion of numbers and mathematical
bodies as least parts and organizing principles of composites
and organisms went from Platonic beginnings to mathematical
elaborations; the Stoic elements and their efficient principles
and the arbitrary models which used methods familiar to the
skeptics were known in the Renaissance; the Epicurean atoms
moving in a void were set forth by Gassendi in the seventeenth
century. With the progress of medicine, astronomy, and me-
chanics in the Renaissance attention concentrated on the ele-
ments as principles again, and Boyle was able to assemble in
the dialogue of the Sceptical Chymist a Corpuscularian, a
Peripatetic, and a Spagyrist or modern Chemist, to discuss a
large variety of theories of elements (including van Helmot's
theory that all things are water fructified by seeds) .
The transition from the Renaissance to the seventeenth cen-
tury is similar in what happened to the treatment of elements
to the transition from the twelfth to the thirteenth century:
more was known and the data were richer, but the opposed
theories followed a similar pattern, and the discussion of
elements again yielded to the discussion of laws and principles
of motion — the issue in the seventeenth century was not pri-
marily between Descartes' vortices, Leibniz' monads, and
Newton's atoms but between their conceptions of mass and
motion and their elaborations and applications of laws of
motion. The Newtonian principles were used to organize a
system of the world and a system of physical science in the
eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, but in the twentieth
century our attention has turned again to elements and par-
ticles and to more subtle and better grounded forms of anti-
120 RICHARD MCKEON
nomles and paradoxes of matter and energy, matter and
antimatter, machine and organism, simple and composite,
motion and rest. We have nothing to learn concerning the
substance of the twentieth century problem from what was
known about elements in the twelfth century or in the Renais-
sance, but the theoretic characteristics and consequences of the
opposed positions were thoroughly elaborated in the earlier
periods in statements which have echoes in contemporary
problems, and the ironical turn of history which transformed
rather than solved the problems of the earlier periods is prepara-
tion which might be useful for like transformations in the
problems faced today.
Richard McKeon
University of Chicago,
Chicago, Illinois.
THE ORIGINS OF THE PROBLEM OF THE
UNITY OF FORM
THE philosophical problem with which we are here con-
cerned may briefly be formulated thus: Whether in
one and the same individual, remaining essentially
one, there are many substantial forms or only one.
A concrete thing of matter and form, the crwoXov, is one
essence and one nature, but it possesses several perfections and
activities. It is, in fact, a body, corpus, and it is such and such
a body, a stone or a tree or a horse. A tree is a body, but it is a
determinate body, quite different from a stone or a horse;
besides being a corporeal thing, it is also a living thing. Now,
as Boethius has it, it is the form that confers on matter the
actual being: ovme esse ex jorma est.^ A substantial form
imparts an essential perfection, and an accidental form a rela-
tive or qualified perfection. Assuming that substantial form is
the determining principle of a composite being, the difficulty
arises of how to account for the various essential perfections of
an individual. Does one substantial form give one perfection
only, so that we have to look for as many substantial forms
as there are perfections and activities; or does a single form
suffice to determine the thing in its own nature, thus endowing
it with all its perfections and activities. f^ A stone is a corporeal
thing as much as a piece of iron, and man is as much a living
being as a tree or a horse; but as a horse possesses some per-
fections which a tree has not, for example, sensitive life, so man,
besides having nutritive and sense powers, is also endowed with
an intellective soul.
The whole point of the discussion, therefore, comes to this:
Is a man — let us say rnan, for it was in connection with the
human soul that the vexed question was first stated — a living
^Boethius, De trinitate, c. 2 (The Theological Tractates, ed. H. F. Stewart and
E. K. Rand. London, 1926, p. 8; PL 64, 1250 B).
121
122 DANIEL A. CALLUS
being by virtue of a distinct nutritive soul, an animal through
a distinct sensitive soul, and finally rational by an intellective
soul; or does he owe to one single substantial form, the intel-
lective soul, not only his being a man, or rational, but also
his being an animal, a living thing, and a corporal substance?
If with Aristotle one holds (i) that prime matter is a com-
pletely passive potency without any actuality of its own what-
ever; (ii) that privation is the disappearance of the previous
form, and, consequently, has no part at all in the composition of
the substance; and (iii) that substantial form is absolutely the
first determining principle, which makes the thing to be what it
is, the only root of actuality, unity and perfection of the thing;
then, consistent with his stated principles, the conclusion forced
upon us is that in one and the same individual there can
be but one single substantial form: other forms, that come
after the first, are simply accidental and not substantial forms.
Since the thing is already constituted in its own being, they
cannot give substantial being, but exclusively accidental or
qualified being; they do not confer upon the concrete thing its
own definite and specific kind of being, e. g., man, but only a
qualified or relative state of being, for example, of being fair
or dark, big or small, and the like.
On the other hand, if one contends (i) that primary matter is
not absolutely passive and potential, but possesses in itself
some actuality, no matter how incomplete or imperfect it may
be: an incohatio farmae, or any active power; (ii) that priva-
tion does not mean the complete disappearance of the previous
form, so that matter is not stripped of all precedent forais in the
process of becoming; or (iii) that substantial form either meets
with some actuality in prime matter or does not determine the
composite wholly and entirely, but only partially; from all this
it will necessarily follow that there are in one and the same
individual plurality of forms.
Briefly, the utimate philosophical issue resolves itself as
follows:
(a) Do the various substantial forms, as imparting different
ORIGINS OF THE PROBLEM OF UNITY OF FORM 123
essential perfections and virtues, remain actually and simul-
taneously in a composite, which is essentially one, whether in
juxtaposition, in co-ordination, disposed hierarchically, or in
any other way implying actual persistence?
(b) Or must all previous forms pass away with the coming
in of the more perfect substantial form, in such a wise that
they are in the crvvoXov only virtually as implied, synthetized,
and comprised in the higher form, each essential perfection
being gathered up into the unity of a single form, which alone
gives to the individual its ultimate and specific determination?
The problem may be, and in fact had been, approached from
two angles: the psychological and the metaphysical. Regarded
psychologically, the problem was restricted to living beings,
especially to man. Considered metaphysically, it was raised
from as many aspects as there are things composed of matter
and form, whether living or lifeless bodies (mixta) , or simply
from simple logical relations, such as genus and species viewed
as matter and form, and their mutual predication.
The question was not fully elaborated all at once, but slowly
and by degrees. The starting-point was whether the nutritive,
the sensitive and the rational principles in man are one soul,
one substance, or three distinct souls or substances.
To avoid confusion, it is important to bear in mind that the
problem of the unity or plurality of the human soul is a dif-
ferent question from that of the unity or plurality of substan-
tial form, whether in man or in any composite. Naturally
enough, if there is plurality of souls, a jortiori there must be
plurality of substances or forms. Substance, philosophically
speaking, is equivalent to form. But the latter question is a
more complex one; that is, assuming that there is in man one
soul only, and even that the soul is the form of the body so as
to constitute one essence, it still remains undecided whether the
determining principle is one only or whether there are required
as many principles, or forms, as there are perfections and
powers.
There is a general consensus among scholars that it was St.
l!24 DANIEL A. CALLUS
Thomas Aquinas who gave to the problem of the unity of sub-
stantial form its full significance. It is equally agreed that the
question cannot have originated with him, since it was current
in the schools as early as the first decades of the thirteenth
century, though, it is true, it then turned on a single instance,
namely whether the nutritive, the sensitive and the rational are
in man one soul, one substance, or three distinct souls or sub-
stances. (We have already observed that to say substance is
the same as saying form) . Further, it should be admitted that
many of the masters, who held that the three principles are in
man not only one soul, but also one substance, did not fully
grasp all its implications. Albert the Great was, perhaps, the
first to see the general and wider principles involved; yet he
too neither stressed the point nor deduced all the logical con-
clusions. With Aquinas, on the contrary, the debate entered a
new phase. Refusing to regard it merely as a psychological
theory, he considered it as fundamentally metaphysical, based
on the principle of contradiction; he thus gave it stability, uni-
versality and full value. Since it is essentially metaphysical, it
concerns the total range of matter-form composites, without
exception, holding good not only in psychology, but also in
logic, in the philosophy of nature and by inference in theology
as well. It is precisely here that Aquinas' original contribution
to the problem lies. Still, granted that St. Thomas' predecessors
and contemporaries, chiefly because of their somewhat imper-
fect grasping of metaphysical principles, did not clearly per-
ceive all the issues involved, the fact remains that the problem
itself, in its psychological aspect, had already been discussed
and propounded in the schools of Paris and Oxford for at
least half a century before St. Thomas' time. And if in reality
there were two contrary opinions, one must have been in sup-
port of plurality of substances, or forms, and the other in sup-
port of the unity of substance, or form. There is no alternative
position.
The aim of this paper is not to discuss in detail the philo-
sophical issues of the problem, but to attempt to trace its
ORIGINS OF THE PROBLEM OF UNITY OF FORM 125
origins and to consider its impact on the early masters in Paris
and Oxford.
* *
The origin of the problem under discussion is obscure. On
the assumption that it could arise only on the basis of Aristo-
telian principles, it would serve no purpose to search for its
beginning before the rediscovery of the libri naturales and the
Metaphysics. The twelfth-century thinkers, failing to under-
stand the problem of change and becoming, could not perceive
the value of the question of forms. They posited primary mat-
ter, not as the potential principle of which things are essentially
constituted, but rather as a chaotic mass of the four elements,
as something actual, and therefore already informed.- Simi-
larly, they had no clear notion of the distinction between sub-
stantial and accidental forms. The substantial form was, for
them, not the constitutive principle by which things are what
they are, but more truly the collection of all the attributes by
which a thing is discriminated from other things.^ With a con-
fused notion of matter and form, the question of the unity or
of the plurality of substantial forms does not even arise. The
times were not yet ripe for so refined a discussion.
To trace, then, the origin of the dispute and to investigate
how and when the Schoolmen came for the first time into
contact with it, we must turn to another field of inquiry.
In the height of the conflict against Aristotelianism in the
last decades of the thirteenth century, there appeared a list
entitled Errores philosophorum, written, in all probability, by
* See, for example, Alanus de Insulis, Distinctiones dictionum theologicalium, s. v.
silva (PL 210,944 C); see also s. v. aqua (704 A); and Regulae de sacra theologia,
reg. 5 (626 A).
^ " Forma dicitur proprietas rei, unde Boetius: ' Considerat enim corporum
formas,' id est proprietates." Alan de Insulis, Distinctiones, s. v. forma (796 D) .
" Forma est quae ex concursu proprietatum adveniens a qualibet alia substantia
facit suum subiectum aliud." Nicholas of Amiens, De arte seu articulis catholicae
fidei, Prologus (PL 210,597-8). Cf. among others, M. Baumgartner, Die Philosophie
des Alanus de Insulis itn Zusammenhange mit den Anschauungen des 12. Jahr-
hunderts (B.G.P.M., II. 4). Miinster i. W., 1896, particularly pp. 47-60.
126 DANIEL A. CALLUS
Giles of Rome,* in which Aristotle and Avicenna are made re-
sponsible for the thesis: Quod in quolihet composito sit una
forma substantialis tantum. The author, who is on the whole
familiar with the facts, argues that the unity thesis is a logical
inference of the Aristotelian doctrine on change and movement.
For, since the coming-to-be of a thing never takes place without
the passing-away of another, and one substantial form is never
introduced unless the one which preceded it is expelled — seeing
that the matter of all things material is the same — it follows
that there are no more substantial forms in one composite than
there are in another. Nay if one stresses this point rightly, it
seems necessary to maintain that there is in all compounds one
substantial form only: and indeed this appears to be the Phi-
losopher's position. In fact, in the Metaphysics, Book VII, in
the chapter ' On the unity of definition,' he states that the
attributes in the definition are one, not because they are present
in one thing, but because they constitute one nature, one thing.
If he means one thing composed of many forms, this view may
be tolerated, but if he means one simple nature and that in the
concrete thing there is one form only, then it is false .^
Doubtless in the Aristotelian system there can be no room for
the theory of plurality of forms. St. Thomas more than once
pointed out that haec positio (plurality of forms) secundum
vera philosophiae principia quae consideravit Aristoteles est
* Giles of Rome Errores Philosophorum, ed. J. Koch (Milwaukee: Marquette
Univ., 1944).
^ Among Aristotle's errors: "11. Ulterius, quia per viam motus nunquam est
generatio unius, nisi sit corruptio alterius, et nunquam introducitur una forma
substantialis, nisi expellatur alia, cum eadem sit materia omnium habentium earn
(De gen. et corrup., I. 3, 319 a 33-b 5; c. 5, 320 b 12-14), sequitur ex hoc quod non
sint plures formae substantiales in uno composito quam in alio. Immo qui bene pro-
sequitur viam istam, videtur esse ponendum in omni composito unam formam sub-
stantialem tantum; et ista videtur via Philosophi. Unde VII° Metapliysicae,
capitulo ' De unitate diffinitionis,' vult partes diffinitionis non esse unum (Z. 12,
1037 b 22-27) , ' quia sunt in uno,' sed quia dicunt unam naturam. — Quod si intel-
ligit unam naturam compositam ex pluribus formis, posset tolerari; sed si intelligit
unam naturam simplicem, et quod sit in composito una forma tantum, falsum est."
Ibid., p. 8. And in the summa errorum: "11. Quod in quolibet composito sit una
forma substantialis tantum." p. 12.
ORIGINS OF THE PROBLEM OF UNITY OF FORM 127
imposdbilis.^ Yet, since at the earliest stage the question was
not discussed under this aspect, we are still far from knowing
how and when the Schoolmen became aware of the problem.
We get nearer with Avicenna, who, according to the Errores
'philoso'phorum, explicitly maintained that est una tantum
forma suhstantialis in coinpodto. As a matter of fact, this
thesis stands at the head in the enumeration of Avicenna's
errors. Indeed, in his Metaphysics, section II, in the chapter
' On the division of corporeal substance,' Avicenna holds that
the form of the genus is not made specific through anything
extrinsic. By this he implies that the form of the species is
not some essence besides the essence of the form of the genus. ^
This is a clear statement of the unity thesis. Elsewhere too,
as for instance, in the Sufficieiitia, Avicenna firmly expresses the
same view: one and the same substantial form makes matter a
definite kind of body and a body: Non est alia jorma qua ignis
est ignis et qua est corpus.^
None the less, the weight of these arguments was felt only
at a later and more developed period of the debate. At all
events, we can trace its very beginning to Avicenna's Liher
sextus naturaliuTn, or De anima, translated into Latin at
Toledo in the second half of the twelfth century by Dominic
Gundissalinus and his associates, who also rendered into Latin
Algazel and Ibn Gebirol's Pons vitae. Avicenna argues from
the unity of the human soul to its substantiality. Since it is
the soul that makes man what he is and constitutes him in his
species, if there were in man diverse souls, man would be in
diverse species.^ Moreover, he posits unequivocally that the
' Cf. among others, St. Thomas Aquinas, De s'piritualihus creaturis, a. 3 (ed.
L. W. Keeler, Romae: Gregorianum, 1938, p. 42) .
' " 1 . Avicenna autem similiter videtur errasse ponens unam formam in com-
posite, ut patet in Il° tractatu Metaphysicae suae, capitulo * De divisione sub-
stantiae corporeae ' (ed. Venetiis, 1508, fol. 76ra) , ubi vult quod forma generis non
specificetur per aliquod extrinsecum. Per quod innuitur quod forma speciei non sit
aliqua essentia praeter essentiam formae generis." Ibid., pp. 24-26. Summa: "1.
Quod est tantum una forma substantialis in composito." p. 34.
^ Avicenna, Sufficientia, II, c. 3.
' " Anima ergo perfectio est subiecti quod est constitutus ab ea. Est etiam
128 DANIEL A. CALLUS
human soul, while possessing a multiplicity of powers, namely
vegetative, sensitive and rational, is essentially one; for it is
one and the same principle that gives life and movement, and
governs and acts in man/°
Gundissalinus is known to us not only as a translator, but
also as an author. His treatises, in which he made full use of
his own translations, chiefly of Avicenna and Gebirol, are
important not so much for his personal contribution to medieval
thought — for he is rather a compiler than an original thinker —
as for his being the first to utilize and attempt a systematic
exposition of the new learning, thus opening up fresh subjects
constituens speciem et perficiens earn. Res enim habentes animas diversas fiunf
propter eas diversarum specierum, et fit earum alteritas specie non singularitate;
ergo anima non est de accidentibus quibus non specificantur species, nee recipiuntur
in constitutione subiecti. Anima enim est perfectio substantiae, non ut accidens."
De anima, I, c. 3 ( ed. cit., fol. 4ra) . I have collated Avicenna's text with Bodleian
Library, Oxford, MS Bodl. 463 (S. C. 2456).
^° " Postea autem declarabitur tibi quod anima una est ex qua defluunt hae vires
in membra, sed praecedit actio aliquarum, et consequitur actio aliarum secundum
aptitudinem instrumenti. Ergo anima quae est in omni animali ipsa est congregans
principia sive materias sui corporis, et coniungens et componens eas eo modo quo
mereantur fieri corpus eius; et ipsa est conservans hoc corpus secundum ordinem quo
decet, et propter eam non dissolvunt illud extrinseca permanentia, quamdiu anima
fuerit in illo, alioquin non remaneret in propria sanitate." Ibid., fol. 3vb. Cf. P. V,
cap. 7, fol. 27r S. — Deviating, however, from his own principles, Avicenna held
that the substantial forms of the elements remain entire in the mixed bodies, an
inconsistency which cannot be explained save by assuming that he did not foresee
all the consequences implied in his premises. See Sufficientia, I, c. 10, fol. 19rb;
Metaph., VIII, c. 2, fol. 97vb-98ra; De anima, IV, c. 5. Cf. St. Thomas, Summa
tkeologiae, I, q. 76, a. 4 ad 4. It has also been urged that Avicenna's theory on
the forma corporeitatis is in support of the pluralist view. That it may be inter-
preted as advocating pluralism is beyond doubt. In this sense it was understood
and criticized by Averroes. The phrase itself is ambiguous, and because of its
ambiguitj' it was avoided by Aquinas. Nevertheless, it seems to have a different
meaning in Avicenna, as M.-D. Roland-Gosselin (Le " De Ente et Essentia " de s.
Thomas d'Aquin [Bibliotheque Thomiste, VIII; Kain, 1926] pp. 104 fl.) , A. Forest
(La structure metaphysique du concret selon saint Thomas d'Aquin [Etudes de
Philosophic medievale, XIV; Paris, 1931] pp. 189 ff.) and others maintain. At any
rate, Avicenna himself did not use it, it seems, in the sense assumed by the
pluralists, namely as meaning the first substantial form that makes matter to be a
body apart from, and previous to, its specific form. His teaching, that it is one
and the same substantial form which makes matter a definite kind of body and a
body, remained unaltered.
ORIGINS OF THE PROBLEM OF UNITY OF FORM 129
of inquiry and new approaches to old problems. It was through
his treatise De anima, together with Avicenna's Liher sextus
naturalium, that the question concerning unity of form reached
the schools.
Gundissalinus deals with the question in Chapter IV: Anima
an una vel multae, a faithful echo of Avicenna's An sit una an
multae.
Following Avicenna closely, Gundissalinus discusses two dis-
tinct questions. The first is whether in all living beings there
is one single soul which, though in itself one substance, in virtue
of its manifold powers performs the function of vegetative life
in plants, of sensation in animals, of intellect and reason in
man. Thus, a single rational soul produces, according to its
various powers, vegetation alone in the bones, hair and nails,
in other parts of the body sensation and movement, and in the
brain intellect and reason. Or again, to use a simile, just as
one and the same solar ray causes different effects in different
things, hardening the clay and melting the wax, so one and the
same soul, according to diversity of bodies, operates diversely,
bestowing upon some mere existence, upon others sensation,
and making others rational beings.^^
The other question propounded here is whether in man the
vegetative, the sensitive and the rational are three distinct souls
and substances, or one soul and one substance only. It is
obvious that the former topic is not to be confused with the
latter; they are two distinct problems.
The first opinion, qualified as erroneous, is rejected (hunc er-
rorejn ita destruunt philosophi) . Gundissalinus argues against
it that these three are in reality not only three powers, but
three souls specifically distinct from each other, the vegetative
which is in plants alone, the sensitive which is in brute animals,
and the rational which is in man. The evidence that they are
distinct from each other is that each one possesses a separate
existence; hence one cannot be the other. The vegetative is like
^^ " The Treatise De Anima of Dom'micus Gundissalinus," ed. J. T. Muclde,
Mediaeval Studies, II (1940), 44.
130 DANIEL A. CALLUS
the genus to its species; it is therefore in plants as well as in
animals; but plants and animals are specifically diversified.
Nevertheless, from the fact that each taken separately is speci-
fically distinct, it does not follow that they are also distinct
subsances when they are united. For instance, a palm tree and
a vine are both a tree, that is, they are endowed with vegetative
soul, a power of self-nurishment and growth. Yet for a palm or
a vine there is not required another soul in addition to the
vegetative soul, namely, the soul of a palm or of a vine. It is
one and the same soul that makes the living, growing tree a
palm or a vine.^"
Likewise the three vital powers, vegetative, sensitive and ra-
tional, exist in man. Taken separately, each one is a substance
distinct from the other, but this is not the case when they are
jointly existing in man. As the sensitive includes the vegetative
and has something else besides, that is, sensitivity, so the
human soul is one single substance {cum sit una simjjlex sub-
stantia) , implying in itself, not only the rational but also the
vegetative and the sensitive, not however as distinct substances
{nan tamen tres substantiae sunt in homine) , but simply as dis-
tinct powers. Moisture and heat, taken separately, are dif-
ferent, but conjoined in vapor they make one single thing,^^
The higher soul presupposes the lower, without which it can-
not exist. Neither can the sensitive exist without the vegeta-
tive, nor the rational, in its turn, exist without the vegetative
and the sensitive. But the lower form, when conjoined with the
higher, has not a separate existence, but is implied in the higher,
" Ibid., pp. 44-45.
^' " Quamvis autem omnis anima sit substantia et hae tres simul sint in unoquo-
que homine, quoniam in homine est anima vegetabilis, et sensibilis, et rationalis,
non tamen tres substantiae sunt in homine; humana enim anima, cum sit una
simplex substantia, habet vires animae vegetabilis et vires animae sensibilis et
vires animae rationalis; similiter et anima sensibilis habet vires animae vegetabilis.
Et quamvis hae vires diversae sint inter se, ita ut una earum non praedicetur de
altera, quippe cum unaquaeque earum sit species per se, tamen nihil prohibet eas
simul haberi ab anima rationali. Quemadmodum, quia invenimus humorem in aere
non separatum a calore, non tamen idcirco necesse est ut humorem et calorem qui
sunt in aere non habeat aliqua una forma vel aliqua una materia. Sic et de viribus
animarum." Ibid., p. 45.
ORIGINS OF THE PROBLEM OF UNITY OF FORM 131
since the higher possesses all that the lower has and something
more besides: the higher the soul, the greater the power, the
more comprehensive its virtue. The power which supervenes,
being stronger, becomes the principle of that which preceded
and remains the only principle and cause of all the powers
and virtues operating there. Similarly with regard to the sen-
sitive and rational souls, just as when the sensitive soul super-
venes, the vegetative is superseded, so with the appearance of
the rational soul all the operations both of the vegetative and
of the sensitive are effected by the rational. The latter vir-
tually includes the former, not in the sense that we can dis-
tinguish in the sensitive two souls or substances, and in the
rational three, but in the sense that one single soul, the highest,
has the power to produce all the operations performed by the
vegetative and the sensitive souls.^*
Gundissalinus reaches the same conclusion in Chapter II,
when he is discussing the substantiality of the soul. The soul is
a substance and not an accident, since there is one soul only in
a living composite, whether it be a tree, an animal or a man.
To prove, in turn, the unity of the soul, he argues that it is the
soul that makes man what he is and imparts to him his specific
nature, for it is the self-same principle that bestows life and
movement, and governs and acts in man. It is not by reason
of two or more principles, but by virtue of the self-same prin-
^* " Quaedam non recipiunt nisi animam vegetabilem tantum, quaedam vero
amplius quia animalem; quaedam vero multo amplius quia rationalem. Quemad-
modura si corpus unum ponatur ad solem cuius situs talis esse potest ut non
recipiat a sole nisi calorem tantum; si vero talis fuerit eius situs ut recipiat
ab eo calorem et illuminationem, tunc simul calefiet et illuminabitur, et lux
cadens in illud erit principium calefaciendi illud: sol enim non calefacit nisi radio.
Deinde si maior fuerit eius aptitudo ut etiam possit accendi, accendetur et fiet
flamma, quae flamma erit etiam causa calefaciendi et illuminandi simul ita ut
quamvis sola esset, tamen perficeretur calefactio et illuminatio, et praeter hoc
calefactio poterat invenire per se sola, vel calefactio et illuminatio sola per se,
quorum posterius non esset principium a quo emanaret prius. Cum autem omnia
simul concurrunt, tunc id quod fuerat posterius fit principium etiam prioris et
emanat ab eo id quod erat prius. Sic ergo dispositionem virium animarum facile
intelligere poteris, si per corpus calefieri intelligas illud tantum vegetari, et per
illuminari illud ab anima sensificari, per accendi vero animam rationalem sibi
infundi." Ibid., p. 46.
132 DANIEL A. CALLUS
ciple, namely the soul, that an organic body is a body and a
definite kind of body, that is, an animal or human body, since
whatever perfection is superadded to an already constituted
being does not impart a specific being, but merely an acci-
dental being, or a mode of being. Unless we admit the patent
contradiction that one and the same being could belong to two
different species, we must agree that the soul confers on the
organic composite a complete substantial being, and conse-
quently that the soul is only one. In fact, as soon as the soul
departs from the body, the body is no longer an animal or
human body, but becomes something else, with an utterly dif-
ferent nature. ^^ Professor E. Gilson has correctly remarked
that there is complete agreement between Avicenna and Gundis-
salinus on the concept of the unity of the soul in a composite. ^*^
I have dwelt at some length on this point, for it is of no
mean importance in determining the exact source of the unity
thesis. It is true that, strictly speaking, the discussion turned
primarily on the unity of the soul; obviously, as we have
already noted, a different question from that of the unity
of substantial form. Nonetheless, Gundissalinus, presenting
^^ " Nam corpus proprium, in quo existit unaquaeque animarum, scilicet tarn
vegetabilis quam sensibilis quam etiam rationalis, non est id quod est ex com-
plexione propria sed ex anima. Anima enim est quae facit illud esse illius com-
plexionis, nee permanet in complexione propria in actu nisi quamdiu fuerit anima
in illo. Anima enim sine dubio est causa per quam vegetabile et animal sunt illius
complexionis; ipsa enim anima est principium generationis et vegetationis. Unde
impossibile est ut proprium subiectum animae sit id quod est in actu nisi per
animam. Non enim verum est ut proprium subiectum animae prius constituatur ab
alio, cui postea adveniat anima quasi non habens partem in eius constitutione vel
definitione, sicut accidentia quae consequuntur esse rei consecutione necessaria, non
constituentia illud in actu. Immo ipsa anima constituit ipsum proprium subiectum
et dat ei esse in actu. Cum vero anima separatur ab eo, succedit necessario cum
separatione eius alia forma, quae est sicut opposita formae complexionali. Haec
enim forma et haec materia, quam habebat dum aderat anima, non remanet post
animam in sua specie, quoniam destruitur eius species et eius substantia quae
erat subiectum animae." Ibid., chap. 2, p. 41.
" Les deux philosophes se trouvent done avoir du meme coup une conception
identique de I'unite de I'ame dans le compose." E. Gilson, " Les sources greco-
arabes de I'Augustinisme avicennisant," Archives d'hist. doctr. et litt. du M-A., IV
(1929), 84.
ORIGINS OF THE PROBLEM OF UNITY OF FORM 133
Avicenna's treatment more systematically, provided the School-
men with the main elements of the problem by asserting un-
ambiguously (i) that the vegetative, the sensitive and the
rational, though three distinct substances when taken sepa-
rately, are one simple substance when united; (ii) that the
higher principle includes the lower, which is only virtually
present when the higher supervenes; (iii) that whatever per-
fection is superadded to an already constituted being does not
impart specific being, but merely accidental being; and conse-
quently (iv) that the vegetative, the sensitive and the rational
are in man not three distinct substances, but powers. The
formulation, the arguments and similies set forth by Gundis-
salinus will become a common patrimony and will be continu-
ally used in more or less refined fashion by successive genera-
tions of masters. Some confusion as to the unity of soul or sub-
stance will linger for a time, but soon philosophers and theo-
logians will accurately distinguish between the question of the
unity of soul and the unity of substance or form.
Turning our attention now to the pluralist theory, Aquinas ^^
traced its source remotely to Plato and proximately to Avice-
bron (Ibn Gebirol) . Both systems issue from the same root,
both present as reality what is a mere distinction of the mind,
and one is the sequel of the other.^^ The pluralist theory, in
fact, follows logically from Platonic presuppositions. Plato
holds that there are several souls in a body, distinct according
to different organs and their various vital actions, such as the
nutritive in the liver, the concupiscible in the heart, and the
knowing in the brain. ^^ Furthermore, he maintains that the
human soul is united to the body not as form to matter, but
merely as mover to the moved, just like a sailor in a boat; and
again, that man is not composed of soul and body, but that
^' St. Thomas, De spiritualihus creaturis, a. 3 (ed. Keeler, pp. 40-41) .
^^ St. Thomas, Summa theoL, I, q. 76, aa. 3-4. " Et haec positio [Avicebron's],
quamvis videatur discordare a prima [Plato's], tamen secundum veritatem rei
cum ea concordat, et est sequela eius." De spirit, creat., loc. cit.
^" Cf. St. Thomas, QQ. dis-p. de anima, a. 11: " Plato posuit diversas animas esse
in corpore; et hoc quidem consequens erat suis principiis." Also Summa theoL, I,
q. 76, a. 3.
134 DANIEL A. CALLUS
man is a soul using a body. In all these cases the resultant
union would not be essential but accidental. Now in things
accidentally united there may be plurality of forms without
any incongruity.
Nevertheless, the main true source from which the pluralist
theory has come down to the Schoolmen is undoubtedly Avice-
bron.-° The keystone of his system is his doctrine of the ' uni-
versal matter ' (materia universalis) and ' universal form '
(fonna universalis) : the two roots from which every thing,
save God, comes forth and into which it is ultimately resolved. ^^
Universal matter is one and the same, and is necessarily devoid
of every form; it becomes substance by its composition with
universal form. Substances are essentially different because
they have diverse forms; each form conferring a special degree
of being corresponding to its own nature, independently of the
other. Since every thing possesses its special matter and its
special form of which it is never stripped, and, at the same time,
the new added form remains with the previous form or forms, it
logically follows that in one and the same individual we must
posit as many substantial forms as there are perfections or
degrees of being," " It must be taken for granted," he says,
" that man owes his humanity to the human form, his animality
to the animal form, his life to the vegetative form, his body
to the form of corporeity, and his substance to the universal
form." ''
^° " Circa ordinem formarum est duplex opinio: una est Avicebron et quorumdam
sequacium eius." St. Thomas, Quodl. XI, a. 5. Cf. Comm. in 11 De anima, lect. 1
(ed. Pirotta, n. 225); In 1 Dc gen. et corrup., lect. 10 (ed. Leonina, n. 8); De
spirit, creat., a. 1 ad 9; a. 3, etc. See M. Wittmann, Die Stellung des hi. Thomas
von Aquin zu Avencebrol (Ibn Gebirol) , (B. G.P.M., III, 3) Miinster i. Westf.,
1900.
Materia universalis et forma universalis . . . haec duo sunt radix omnium et
ex his generatum est quicquid est, . . . haec natura praecedunt omnia, et in ea
etiam resolvuntur omnia." Avencebrolis, Fans Vitae ex Arabico in Latinum trans-
latus ab lohanne llispano et Dominico Gundissalino, primum edidit C. Baeumker
(B.G.P.M., I, 2-4) Munster i. Westf., 1892-95. I, 5, p. 7.
'"' Fons vitae, II, 2 (ed. cit., pp. 26-27) .
Tanquam certum . . . quod forma naturae est aliud a forma animae vege-
tabilis, et quod forma animae vegetabilis alia est a forma animae sensibilis, et
ORIGINS OF THE PROBLEM OF UNITY OF FORM 1S5
As Gimdissalinus in his De anima made known the unity
thesis of Avicenna, so it was he too who in his other treatises
popularized Avicebron's theory. In the De processiojie mundi -*
we meet with the same description of matter and form as in
Avicebron, whereas in the De imitate ^^ (wrongly attributed to
Boethius "") he reproduced almost verbatim Avicebron's teach-
ing on the various degrees of forms. By bringing these theories
to the fore, Gundissalinus contributed considerably to the
spread of an utterly un-Aristotelian notion of matter and form
which is at the base of all pluralism. Again, by proclaiming that
other Avicebronian tenet, that quicquid iritellectus dividit et
resolvit in aliquid, com'positmn est ex his in quae resolvitur, he
provided the pluralists with the fundamental principle on which
their thesis stands.^^
All things considered, we may unhesitatingly conclude that
the main sources from which medieval speculation drew the
philosophical problem with which we are concerned were Avi-
quod forma animae sensibilis alia est a forma animae rationalis, et quod forma
animae rationalis alia est a forma intelligentiae." Ibid., IV, 3 (pp. 215-216). Cf.
Ill, 46 (pp. 181-2); V, 34 (p. 320).
^* Dcs Dominicus Gundissalinus Schrift ' Von detn Hervorgange der Welt ' (De
processione mundi), ed. G. Biilow (B. G. P. M., XXIV, 3) Miinster, 1925, p. 30:
" Materia est prima substantia per se existens, substentatrix diversitatis, una
numero. Item, materia prima est substantia receptibilis omnium formarum." Cf.
Fo-ns vitae, V, 22 (p. 298) . Also loc. cit.: " Forma vero prima est substantia con-
stituens essentiam omnium formarum." Cf. Fans vitae, ibid.
^^ Die dent Boethius fdlschlich zugeschriebene Abhandlung des Dominicus Gundi-
salvi De Unitate, ed. P. Correns (E.G. P. M., I, 1) Munster, 1891, p. 8: "Quia
igitur materia in supremis formata est forma intelligentiae, deinde forma rationalis
animae, postea vero forma sensibilis animae, deinde inferius forma animae vege-
tabilis, deinde forma naturae, ad ultimum autem in infimis forma corporis: hoc non
accidit ex diversitate virtutis agentis, sed ex aptitudine materiae suscipentis." Cf.
Pons vitae, V, 20 (p. 295) .
** St. Thomas has remarked that the De unitate was wrongly attributed to
Boethuis: " Dicedum quod liber De unitate et uno non est Boethii, ut ipse stilus
indicat." De spirit, creat., a. 1 ad 21 (ed. cit., p. 18) .
^' De processione mundi, ed. cit., p. 4; cf. Fans vitae, II, 16: " Quicquid com-
positorum intelligentia dividit et resolvit in aliud, est compositum ex illo in quod
resolvitur" (p. 51). See St. Thomas, loc. cit. Cf. Wittmann, op. cit., pp. 17-18; M.
de Wulf, Le traite ' De Unitate Formae ' de Gilles de Lessines (Les Philosophes
Beiges, I), Louvain, 1901, p. 35.
136 DANIEL A. CALLUS
cenna for the unity thesis and Avicebron for the pluralist
theory, Gundissalinus being the immediate channel through
which the same problem reached the schools.
In thirteenth-century writings A\acebron is expressly men-
tioned less than Avicenna (the Schoolmen, it seems, were some-
what shy of referring to him by name) ; yet his influence is not
to be underrated, chiefly among the so-called Augustinians and
in the Franciscan school, particularly at Oxford.
There were, however, other factors which helped to strengthen
the pluralist theory. Not least among these was the De differ-
entia spiritus et animae of Costa-ben-Luca,"** the Constabulinus
of the schools. This short treatise exerted no little influence on
medieval physiological and psychological thought. From it
Gundissalinus in his De anima borrowed Plato's and Aristotle's
definitions of the soul.^^ It helped to sanction the difference
between ' spirit ' and ' soul ' ^° and to posit an intermediary
uniting the soul to the body. The soul is united to the body by
means of a corporeal ' spirit,' which, inasmuch as it comes
forth from the heart, produces life, breath and beating of the
pulse; as proceeding from the brain, it causes sensation and
movement."^ Further, Costa-ben-Luca holds that the three
powers of the soul, the vegetative, the sensitive and the ra-
tional, are forms and genera of soul, and may at choice be called
animae.^- Thus, by introducing an ambiguous teraiinology, he
rendered an already involved theory even more confused.
The Liber de causis, springing from the same Neo-Platonic
^* Excerpta e libra Aljredi Anglici De mofu cordis. Item Costae-ben-Lucae De
diferentia animae et spiritus liber translatus a Johanne Hispalensi, ed. C. S. Barach
(Bibl. Phil. Med. Aetatis, II), Innsbruck, 1878.
^* Cf. Gundissalinus, De anima, chap. 2 (ed. Muckle, pp. 37-41) .
^° The difference between spiritus and anima is also clearly stated by Isaac
Israeli in his Liber de definitionibus, translated by Gerard of Cremona, ed. by J. T.
Muckle in Archives d'hist. doctr. et litt. du M.-A., XI (1937-38), 318-19.
*^ Costa-ben-Luca, De differentia animae et spiritus, cap. 4 (ed. cit., p. 138) ;
cf. cap. 1, pp. 121, 124, and cap. 2, pp. 124, 130.
" Nunc loquarum de virtutibus animae, et dicamus, quod primae virtutes
animae, quae sunt ei formae et genera, sunt tres: prima, scilicet vegetativa, secunda
sensibilis, tertia rationalis, et hae virtutes vocantur ad placltum animae." op. cit.,
cap. 3, p. 137.
ORIGINS OF THE PROBLEM OF UNITY OF FORM 137
source as Avicebron's Fons vitae, supplied a fresh argument in
support of the pluralist view. We have it from Roland of
Cremona, that some, to prove that there are three souls in man,
based their contention on the authority of the book De pura
honitate, proposition I."" (It is well known that in some ancient
manuscripts the Liber de causis is entitled De pura honitate.)
On the other hand, Albertus Magnus adduces this very same
first proposition to demonstrate that such an assumption is
untenable. " To admit three souls in man," he argues, " would
destroy the order of formal causes, which is against the Phi-
losopher's ^* teaching in the De causis, that the causes are dis-
posed in a certain order: being, living, sentient, intelligent. For
in that case the second cause would in no way be influenced by
the first cause, whereas it is by virtue of that influence that a
cause is and is a cause." ^^
These are the main sources from which the Schoolmen de-
rived their knowledge of the problem under consideration and
drew their arguments in favor of or against either opinion.
Secondary channels, however, concurred to feed the stream.
We may mention, for instance, the pseudo-Augustinian De
spiritu et anima,^^ utilized by John de la Rochelle,^' St. x41bert
*^ '' Et probant illud idem per primam propositionem quae est in libro De pura
honitate." Text edited by Dom Odon Lottin, 0. S. B., " L'Unite de I'ame humaine
avant saint Thomas d'Aquin," Psychologic et Morale aux XIP et XIIP siecles,
2nd edition (Gembloux, 1957) , I, p. 465.
^* The Liber de causis was attributed to Aristotle in the thirteenth century until
Aquinas discovered its true origin when William of Moerbeke translated the
Elementatio theologica of Proclus from the Greek (Viterbo, 18 March 1268) .
^^ " Hoc autem dato (quod vegetativum, sensitivum, intellectivum sint per sub-
stantiam separata) , sequuntur duo inconvenientia, quorum unum est. . . . Aliud
autem est, quod destruitur ordo causarum formalium: quia secunda causa non
habebit a primaria quod est, et quod causa est. Sunt enim ordinatae causae for-
males, esse, vivum, sensitivum, intellectivum, ut dicit Philosophus in libro De
causis." De anima. III, tr. V, c. 4 (ed. Borgnet, V, 418 b) .
^^ De spiritu et anima, PL 40, 779-832. It was attributed to St. Augustine by
many in the thirteenth century, but not by St. Thomas. See G. Thery, " L'authen-
ticite du ' De spiritu et anima ' dans saint Tlaomas et Albert le Grand," Revue des
Sciences philosophiques et theologiques, X (1921) , 373-377.
*^ " Dicamus ergo secundum Augustinum in libro De anima et spiritu: ' Una et
eadem est animae substantia vegetabilis, sensibilis et rationalis, secundum diversas
138 DANIEL A. CALLUS
and others '« in support of the unity thesis, and by the plural-
ists for their embryo-genesis theory.^** Medieval thinkers would
make their approach from various standpoints. Arguments
were drawn from the most disparate sources; a simile, an obiter
dictum frequently offered ample matter for speculation. What
might seem to us quite an insignificant, tentative suggestion
sometimes gave rise to long and important controversies. It is,
therefore, not surprising that there were indeed other factors
which mingled with these to strengthen the development and
growth of the problem.
The next question with which we are confronted is when did
the problem itself reach the Universities of Paris and Oxford.^
Although it is beyond doubt that the problem was discussed
in the schools in the first decades of the thirteenth century, at
the latest, it would surely be rash, in our fragmentary knowl-
edge of this period, to assert definitely who were the first
masters to introduce it.
It is rather disappointing that Daniel of Morley makes no
allusion to it in his Pliilosophia.'^° In one so familiar with
Avicenna and Arabic learning, we should expect to find an
echo of the discussions held at Toledo on psychological mat-
potentias diversa vocabula sortitur ' [c. 13, PL 40, 788-9]." La Summa De Anima
di Frate Giovanni della Rochelle, ed. T. Domenichelli (Prato, 1882) , p. 138. Cf.
also Richard Rufus of Cornwall, for whom see D. A. Callus, " Two early Oxford
Masters on the Problem of Plurality of Forms: Adam of Buckfield — Richard
Rufus of Cornwall," Revue neoscolastique de Philosophic, XLII (1939), 439.
"* Albertus Magnus, Summa de creaturis, II, q. ,7 a. 1 : " Ex his omnibus accipi-
tur, quod sententia omnium philosophorum est, quod vegetabile, sensible, et
rationale in homine sunt una substantia. Et hoc expresse dicit Augustinus in libro
De spiritu et anima." (ed. Borgnet, XXXV, 90 b) .
*° De spiritu et anima, cap. 9: " Vegetatur tamen (humanum corpus) et movetur
et crescit et humanam formam in utero recipit, priusquam animam rationalem
recipiat. Sicut etiam virgulta et herbas sine anima moveri et incrementum habere
videmus." (PL 40, 784-5)
Daniels von Morley Liber de naturis inferiorum et superiorum," ed. K.
SudhofT, Archiv fiir die Geschichte der Naturioissenschajten und der Technik, VIII
(1918). See A. Birkenmajer's remarks on this edition, ibid., IX (1920), 45-51.
ORIGINS OF THE PROBLEM OF UNITY OF FORM 139
ters; but he has purposely, it seems, avoided the subject to
devote himself entirely to cosmology and astronomy: ostenso
itaque ex quihus diversitatihus homo constet, turn in anima
tuiii in cor pore, quoniam ad praesens non spectat negotium in
huiusmodi diutius jnorari, ad constitutionem mundi, unde
sermo venit, prius stilum iiiclino.'^^
Alexander Nequam taught in Paris at the school of Petit
Pont in the last quarter of the twelfth century, and about 1190
was lecturing in theology at Oxford. Seemingly he was in a
position to know the main questions of the day. Yet in the
De naturis rerum and in the De laudihus divinae sapientiae
summing up the problems concerning man, which were then
current in the schools,*" he has not a word on our topic, though
he was familiar with the connected question, whether the soul
and the body are united by means of a medium.*^ Moreover,
in Books III and IV of his theological work, the Speculum
speculatio?ium,** he has a short treatise on the soul, which
would have offered him a good opportunity of introducing the
point at issue, considering especially his acquaintance with
Avicenna's De anima. Again, in Chapter XC, De viribus
animae, he has a long discourse on the powers of the soul, and
in Chapter XCIV, De sensualitate, under which heading theo-
logians generally discussed our question, he makes no allusion
*' Ibid., p. 9.
*■ Alexandri Neckam De naturis rerum lihri duo, with the -poem of the same
author, De laudibus divinae sapientiae, ed. T. Wright (R. S.) , London, 1863, cap.
173, p. 299. Another set of similar questions is found in De laud. div. sap., dist. X,
p. 499. M.-D. Chenu (" Grammaire et theologie aux XII^ et XIII^ siecles,"
Archives d'hist. doctr. et litt. du M.-A., X (1935-36), 5-28; and " Disciplina. Notes
de lexicographie philosophique medievale," Rev. So. phil. et thiol., XXV (1936) ,
686-92) has shown the great profit that can be derived from these topics in order
to trace the origin and development of much medieval speculation.
** " Nonne maior est contrarietas inter animam et corpus, quae tamen sine aliquo
medio coniuncta sunt? " De naturis rerum, cap. 16, ed. cit., p. 55.
^* The Speculum speculationum, written between 1204 and 1213, is extant in
one manuscript, British Museum, MS Royal 7 F. I. On Alexander Nequam and
other early masters, see R. W. Hunt, " English Learnmg in the late twelfth
century," Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 4th ser., XIX (1936), 19-42;
D. A. Callus, Introduction of Aristotelian Learning to Oxford (Proceedings of
the British Academy, XXIX, 1943).
140 DANIEL A. CALLUS
to it, as though he had never heard of the AristoteHan distinc-
tion of the vegetative, the sensitive and the rational.
Alfredus Anglicus, or Alfred of Sareshel, well versed in medi-
cine and in the natural sciences, was one of the very first to
make extensive use of the new Aristotelian learning. His De
motu cordis, dedicated to Alexander Nequam (d. 1217) , was
introduced in the university curriculum of studies as pars in-
ferior fhilosophiae naturalis. It contains in a curious mixture
a large body of doctrine common to Neo-Platonic metaphysics
and Aristotelian biological and natural philosophy. The re-
peated assertion that the soul is one only in every living being,
seems to suggest that Alfred had some inkling of the question.
He teaches with Aristotle that no living being is without the
vegetative soul, since nutrition is indispensable for every thing
that grows and decays: a living being must therefore have
within itself a principle by which it acquires growth and under-
goes decay, that is, soul. Animals are not only living but also
sentient beings. But since one and the same principle, not a
distinct one, produces life and sensibility, in every living being
there must be one soul only. Consequently animals have not
two distinct souls, one vegetative and the other sensitive, for
from the same soul the operations of life and sensibility arise.
By one single principle an animal is a living and a sentient
being .■'^
Obviously, this is not an ordered exposition or a thorough
treatment of the question, which is rather touched upon occa-
sionally and only in passing; it is more presupposed than ex-
plicitly and directly stated. The principles upon which the
structure of the doctrine is built are laid down, the conclusion
inferred is there; but it is referred to only incidentally insofar
as it is raised in connection with the general subject matter.
*^ Des Alfred von Sareshel (Alfredus Anglicus) Schrift De Motu Cordis, ed.
C. Baeumker (B. G. P. M., XXIII, 1-2), Munster i. Westf.. 1923. " Hanc (animam)
in quolibet animate unam esse constans est " cap. 13, p. 65; " unius autem una
est anima " cap. 8, p. 31; " aninia enim animalis simplex et una est; ex ea autem
tantum vivit et sentit animal; ex una igitur causa. Ex ea igitur animal est. A
causa igitur uniformi vivit et sentit " cap. 10, p. 43.
ORIGINS OF THE PROBLEM OF UNITY OF FORM 14«1
None the less, it is noteworthy that in establishing his point,
namely, the unity of the soul in every living being, Alfred urges
the same argument advocated before him by Avicenna, and
which later will be more elaborately used by Aquinas.
Turning our attention now to the Paris theologians of the
period, we meet with no explicit mention of the problem in
Peter of Poitiers (d. 1205) , in Simon of Toumai (d. 1203) ,
Praepositinus of Cremona (d. 1210) , Robert Curzon, William
de Montibus (d. 1213) , or Stephen Langton. William of Aux-
erre (d. 1231) , so keen to turn to profit in his Summa aurea
(c. 1220) every new topic, and perhaps the first theologian to
make wide use of the new learning, is equally silent.
The earliest, to my knowledge, clear and unmistakable ac-
count is found in the faculty of Arts, in the treatise On the
Soul of John Blund, written not later than 1210.*" Its main
source is undoubtedly Avicenna. This treatise, representative
of both Paris and Oxford, is a striking example of the deep
penetration in the schools of Avicennian theories, under the
cloak of Aristotle, at the beginning of the thirteenth century.
Like Gundissalinus and Alfredus Anglicus, John Blund belongs
to a period of transition, and joins in the attempt to utilize
Eastern philosophy in Western thought, linking up the Arabian
world with Scholasticism,
The elementary way in which the question is treated points
unmistakably to its early stage. Its very title, utruvi anhna
vegetabilis. sensibilis et rationalis sint in homine eadem anima
an diversae, bears the impress of Avicenna. In the table of
contents it is described quomodo anima vegetabilis se habeat
ad animam sensibilem et rationalem. The chief point of the
discussion, in fact, appears to be more logical than psycho-
logical, though this is not excluded, namely, whether ' anima '
or ' animatum,' the vegetative soul is a genus or a species; and
if a genus, how it is predicated of its species, namely the
nutritive soul of animal soul and of rational soul.
*'See D. A. Callus, "The treatise of John Blund On the Soul," in Autour
d' Aristotle. RecueU d' etudes ofert a Mons. A. Mansion (Louvam, 1955), pp. 471-
495. This treatise will be published shortly.
142 DANIEL A. CALLUS
The debate opens by setting forth the evidence in support of
the unity view. Three arguments are brought forward: the first
two are drawn from the univocal predication of ' animatum '
and ' substance.'
(1) Animatum is univocally predicated of a living body, of
animal and of man. Now a thing is said to be animated inas-
much as it possesses a soul. Since, therefore, animatum, is predi-
cated according to the same formal notion signified by the
name ' animated,' similarly the soul pertains to each thing
possessing a soul according to the same formal notion. Conse-
quently, one and the same is the soul of a living body, of animal
and of man.
(2) Again, ' substance ' is univocally predicated of body, of
living body, and of each of its inferiors; and it is specified by
the addition of gradual differences, such as corporeal, living,
sentient, and so on. Likewise the soul is specified by the addi-
tion of vegetative, sensitive, and rational. Now as ' substance '
is a genus with respect to its species, so ' soul ' is a genus with
respect to its species. But it cannot be said that there are many
substances in one species of substance. For the same reason it
should not be said that there are three souls in man, but one
soul only. Accordingly, the vegetative, the sensitive and the
rational are not three souls, but one soul only.
(3) ]\Ioreover, if these were three diverse souls, there would
be in reality three souls in man, which is contrary to Avicenna,
who teaches that in man it is from the same rational soul that
the vegetative life, the sensitive life and the rational life are
derived.*^
That they are diverse souls might be argued as follows:
(1) If the vegetative, the sensitive and the rational were
one soul, then as the rational is incorruptible, so also the vege-
tative and the sensitive souls would be incorruptible; and as
*' " Si sint diversae aiaimae, contingit hominem habere tres animas in effectu,
quod est contra Avicennam, qui dicit quod ab anima rationaJi est in homine
vegetatio, sensibilitas, rationalitas." Cambridge, St. John's College, MS 120, fol.
125rb.
ORIGINS OF THE PROBLEM OF UNITY OF FORM 14&
the rational soul can be separated from the body, enjoying per-
petual life, likewise the souls of a tree or of an ass would live
forever.
(2) The second argument aims at proving that ' soul ' is not
a genus; for, since the genus contains something more than each
of its species, no genus is equal to its species. Consequently, the
vegetative, the sensitive and the rational are three distinct
species, not a genus.
Blund's answer is that this word soul {hoc nomen * anima ')
means the genus of the vegetative, of the sensitive and of the
rational souls. Sensitive soul is a subaltern genus, inasmuch as
it is a genus with respect to the rational soul, and a species
of the vegetative soul. But in man there is only one single
soul which imparts vegetative life, sensitivity and reason.*®
Doubtless, John Blund's treatment is still quite embryonic,
and the real issue is more implied than expressed. Nevertheless,
Blund is a definite witness, not only to the fact that the ques-
tion was discussed in the schools by the masters of Arts in the
first decade of the thirteenth century, but also to the fact that
its first solution was in favor of the unity thesis. Its significance
lies in this, that we have in this account, however inarticulate
it may be, some of the same arguments which were later ad-
vanced in the heyday of the conflict by both opponents and
defenders: that of the corruptibility or incorruptibility of the
soul was adduced by all the pluralists, whereas the supporters
of the unity thesis insisted that it is one and the same prin-
ciple that gives life, sense and reason to one individual.
A few years later Roland of Cremona, the first Dominican
master in the University of Paris (1229-1230) , attests that the
question had reached the faculty of theology. His statement
bears considerable weight for its accuracy and conciseness.
There are, he says, three species of souls: the vegetative soul,
*^ " Solutio. Dicimus quod hoc nomen ' anima ' significat genus animae vegeta-
bilis et animae sensibilis et rationalis. Et in homine est una sola anima a qua est
vegetatio, sensus et ratio. Et anima sensibilis est genus subalternum, quia anima
sensibilis est genus animae rationalis et species animae vegetabilis." Ibid., fol.
125va.
144 DANIEL A. CALLUS
which is in phmts; the sensitive soul, which is in dumb animals;
and the rational soul, which is in man alone. Yet there are not
three souls in man, as some think. According to these thinkers,
there are really three souls in man: the vegetative, the sensitive
and the rational. But this is untenable, for of one and the same
thing there cannot be but one first perfection, since one and
the same thing can have but one existence {unicum esse) . Now
all agree that the soul is the perfection of an organized body
holding life in potentiality. The vegetative soul, therefore, is
the perfection of this body, and likewise the sensitive and the
rational soul. It follows, then, that if there were three souls,
this body would be perfected in virtue of the first perfection,
which is impossible. Again, if the first endows the body with
its perfection, the second or the third would serve no purpose.*^
Those who claim that there are three souls in man are per-
suaded by this reason: they see that the embryo, even before
it is perfected by the sensitive and the rational soul, grows.
But growth is exclusively caused by the vegetative soul. Con-
sequently, it seems that the vegetative soul is in the embryo
before the sensitive and the rational soul. They prove this from
the first proposition of the book De pwa bonitate. However,
they labor in vain {frustra nituntur) . The embryo is not self-
growing or vegetating, but grows in virtue of the mother, inas-
much as, previous to the infusion of the rational soul, it is in a
certain manner a part of the mother, since the embryo is united
to the matrix by cotyledons.^" Accordingly, it remains that the
** " Neque sunt tres animae in homine, quemadmodum quidam putant. Dicunt
quod in homine est anima vegetabilis, et anima sensibilis, et anima rationalis. Sed
hoc non potest stare, quia unius rei unica est perfectio prima, quia unius rei
unicum est esse. Constat autem quod anima est perfectio corporis organici potentia
vitam habentis. Ergo haec anima vegetabilis est perfectio huius corporis, et haec
anima sensibilis, et haec anima rationalis. Ergo habet hoc unicum corpus vi per-
fectionis primae, quod esse non potest. Iterum, si prima perficit, pro nihilo
venit secunda vel tertia." Text edited by Dom O. Lottin, Psychologie et Morale
aux XW et XIW siecles, 2nd edition (Gembloux: Duculot, 1957) , p. 465.
^^ See, e. g., Alexander Nequam, De naturis reruTn: " Cum enim cotilidonum nexu
familiari foetus adhaerens matrici quodammodo pars sit ipsius matris " (ed. cit.,
p. 240) ; Albertus Magnus, De animalibus, XVI, tr. II, c. 7: " Qualiter per cottilidi-
ones fit incrementum embrionis " (ed. Stadler, 1131-3) ; and tr. I, c. 2.
ORIGINS OF THE PROBLEM OF UNITY OF FORM 145
vegetative and the sensitive in man are not distinct souls, but
powers of the rational soul.^^
Assuredly the development of the problem is as yet at its
first stage. The discussion turns on the unity or plurality of
souls in man. The solution gives the impression that it is merely
outlined and unfinished; it is none the less clear and categorical,
and the treatment of the whole question is extremely instruc-
tive, Roland based his reasoning on the Aristotelian definition
of the soul, regarded as axiomatic. Constat autem quod
anima est perfectio corporis organici potentia vitarn habentis.
The argument brought forward is the same one that Aquinas
will urge and develop to its utmost value in upholding the unity
of form not only in man, but in all composites: unius rei
unica est perfectio prima, unius rei urdcum est esse, si prima
perficit, pro nihilo venit secunda vel tertia. There can be no
doubt that the first reaction of the Schoolmen in both faculties
of Theology and of Arts was in favor of the unity thesis: the
vegetative and the sensitive are not distinct souls in man, but
powers of the rational soul.
On the other hand, the same argument from the vital opera-
tions of the embryo was constantly adduced by the pluralists as
the most cogent in stressing their view. It is found wherever
the problem is discussed, often with the biblical text. Exodus,
21:22, and always with the same physiological reflection. It
was later corroborated with the authority of Aristotle, De
generatione animalium, II. 3 {De animalibus XVT. 3, 736 b
1 ff.) .^" To refute this argument William of Auvergne dedi-
cated a full chapter to it in his De anima,^^ and in St. Thomas'
Quaestio disputata De anima, a. 11, to cite one more instance,
no less than nine objections out of twenty are drawn from the
embryo-genesis theory. When, however, Roland, trying to
argue against this view contends that the embryo grows vege-
^^ " Sensibilis et vegetabilis sunt vires animae rationalis in homine." Ibid. On
Roland of Cremona, see E. Filthaut, Roland von Cremona O.P. und die Anfange
der Scholastik in Predigerorden (Vechta i. 0., 1936) .
^' See the discussion of this point in Albertus Magnus, De animalibus, ad locum.
" De anima, cap. 4, P. II (ed. Orleans, 1674) , fol. 105 b-106 b.
146 DANIEL A. CALLUS
tatione matris suae, he is assuming an erroneous fact, though
it was taught by many physicians in his day.^*
In conclusion:
(i) The immediate and main sources of the problem of the
unity or plurality of souls and substances in man are Avicenna
and Avicebron. The former stood for the unity thesis in every
living being; the latter advocated plurality of forms in all
compounds.
(ii) The problem was formulated by Dominic Gundissalinus,
and it reached the schools through him. Under the influence of
Avicenna he transmitted the unity thesis in his De anima, but
he popularized the opposite view through his other writings
drawn chiefly from Avicebron.
(iii) Various elements of diverse kind mingled with the main
sources: the Platonic-Galenic teaching on the tripartite dis-
tinction of the soul and on embryo-genesis; the theory of Costa-
ben-Luca and of Isaac Israelita on the vital spiritus as distinct
from the soul and as a medium of union with the body; the
Liber de causis. All these secondary sources contributed to
reinforce the pluralist stream.
(iv) The first reaction of the Schoolmen was in support of
the unity thesis, both in the faculty of Arts and in the faculty
of Theology. Theologians in general held the thesis of one soul,
one substance in man; they held that the vegetative, the sensi-
tive and the rational in man are not three souls and three
substances, or one soul and three substances, but one soul and
one substance. St. Albert the Great voicing their view main-
tained that " error pessiinus est dicere unius subiecti plures
esse substantias, cmn illae substantiae non possunt esse nisi
jormae." ^^ And again: " Hunc errorem hucusque in diem
sequuntur quidam Latinorum philosophorum, praecipue in sen-
^* Cf . Albertus Magnus, De animalibus, XVI, tr. I, c. 2, where he ascribes such
a view to some " de medicorum imperito populo "; St. Thomas, Contra gentiles,
II, cap. 89.
"^ De unitate intellectus contra Averroem, cap. 13 (ed. Borgnet, IX, 455 b) .
ORIGINS OF THE PROBLEM OF UNITY OF FORM 147
sibili, vegetabili et raiionabili, qui dicunt esse diversas sub-
stantias et unain animam in corpore haminis." ^^
(v) With Philip the Chancellor (c. 1230) the problem en-
tered into its second stage of development. The discussion
turned, then, not on the unity or plurality of souls, but defi-
nitely on the unity or plurality of substances, whether the vege-
tative, the sensitive and the rational are one or three substances
in man. Theologians discussed it in their commentaries on
Book II, dist. 17, of the Sentences, and also in their quaestiones
disputatae and quodlibetales, and later in special treatises.
(vi) The masters of Arts generally raised the question in
their commentaries on Aristotle's De anima, at the close of
Book I or at the beginning of Book II. We have an illuminating
clue in Adam of Buckfield (c. 1250) as to their procedure in
setting the question. In this passage (411 a 26-411 b 11), he
tells us, Aristotle deals with two questions. The first is whether
the attributes of the soul, namely understanding, opinion, de-
sire and the like, appertain to the soul as a whole, or whether
each particular operation is dependent on a particular part;
that is, whether the soul as a whole thinks, desires, perceives,
or whether one part thinks, another perceives, another desires.
The second question is this: Does life reside in one single part
of the soul, or in more than one, or in all parts.? According to
some, however, Aristotle's intention is to investigate a different
problem, namely whether the vegetative, the sensitive and the
rational are distinct with respect to their operations, or with
respect to a diversity of substance. Buckfield believes that
this interpretation is based neither on our translation {jiostram,
i. e., the Greek-Latin version) nor on the other {aliam, i. e.,
from the Arabic) . Aristotle simply meant to maintain against
Plato that the soul is not divided into various parts which in
turn are located in different organs. Since, therefore, the
problem concerning one or more substances in man was left
unsolved by the Philosopher, there is room for further inquiry.
"De anima, I, tr. II, c. 15 (ed. Borgnet, V, 184 a); III. tr. V, c. 4 (417 b ff.)
et alibi passim.
148 DANIEL A. CALLUS
Et est hie quaestio: utrum in anima hominis sit eadem sub-
stantia intellectivae , sensitivae et vegetativae, an sint sub-
stantiae diversae.^'
(vii) The question was also raised in the commentaries on
Aristotle's Metaphysics, particularly in connection with the
" unity of definition " (Z. 12, 1037 b 22-27) , as quoted in the
Errores philosophorum {see supra, p. 263) . For instance, we find
it discussed at great length in an anonymous commentary by a
secular Oxford master of Arts in the first half of the thirteenth
century .^^
(viii) Finally, the Aristotelian distinction of the soul into
rational and irrational in the Nicomachean Ethics (I. 13)
offered another opportunity to theologians and masters of Arts
to discuss the question. St. Albert was well aware that this
°' " In hac parte intendit [Aristoteles] de opinionibus aliorum, et sistit sua
determinatio in prosecutione cuiusdam quaestionis. . . . Cum ita sit, quaestio est,
utrum omnes istae actiones attribuantur animae secumdum se totam, ita scilicet
quod secundum se totam intelligat, et secundum se totam sentiat, et sic de aliis,
an secundum diversas partes sui in diversis membris existentes diversas faciat
operationes, ut, scilicet, secundum unam partem sui in uno membro existentem
intelligat, et secundum aliam in alio membro existentem sentiat, et sic de aliis. —
Adhuc quaerit ulterius, si secundum diversas partes sui in diversis membris
existens diversas faciat operationes. Tunc est quaestio adhuc, utrum ab una
illarum partium tantum insit vita animali, aut a pluribus, aut ab omnibus; hoc est
quaerere, utrum quaelibet pars animae vivificet suum membrum in quo est, aut non.
Ista tamen quaestio principalis secundum quosdam aliter intelligitur, ita scilicet,
ut intendat Aristoteles quaerere, utrum anima, cum sit una et eadem secundum
substantiam et radicem, habeat operationes diversas, an diversificetur substantia
ita, scilicet, quod substantia vegetativae sit alia a substantia sensitivae, et sub-
stantia sensitivae alia a substantia intellectivae, sicut et operationes diversae sunt.
Ista tamen quaestio nee per nostram translationem nee per aliam videtur prae-
tendi. . . . Cum iam manifestum sit secundum intentionem Aristotelis in hac liltima
parte quod anima est indivisa secxmdum situm et subiectum, et non videtur esse
determinatum ab ipso utrum, cum sit indivisa secundum situm et subiectum, simi-
liter sit indivisa secundum substantiam, propter hoc circa hoc est dubitandum. Et
est hie quaestio: utrum in anima hominis sit eadem substantia intellectivae, sensi-
tivae, vegetativae, an sint substantiae diversae." See D. A. Callus, "Two early
Oxford Masters," ed. cit., pp. 434-5.
"Although in this commentary the question is discussed in Book IX, it refers
to the unity of definition. Cf. G. Gal, " Commentarius in Metaphysicam Aristotelis
cod. Vat. lat. 4538 fons doctrinae Richardi Rufi," Archivum Franciscanum Histori-
cum, XLIII (1950), 216: " Sed modo quaeri potest: si diffinitum . . ." cf. p. 237.
ORIGINS OF THE PROBLEM OF UNITY OF FORM 149
topic, strictly speaking, was unrelated to the text. Neverthe-
less, because there were various opinions, Albert thought it
fitting to inquire into the question, together with the kindred
question about whether the powers of the soul are distinct or
identical with the essence of the soul.^^ We meet with similar
questions in an anonymous commentary on the Ethica nova by
a master of iVrts of the first half of the thirteenth century ."^^
But by this time, mid-thirteenth century, the debate was
well advanced, and the treatment of the problem was greatly
developed. A few years later, the genius of St. Thomas Aquinas
will bring its solution to full maturity.
Daniel A. Callus, O. P.
Blackfriars
Oxford, England
^^ " Quamvis considerare horum differentiam [rationabilis et irrationabilis] non
pertineat ad banc scientiam, sicut ipse [Aristoteles] dicit, tamen quia de hoc sunt
opiniones, quaeritur, utrum. . . . See G. Meersseman, " Die Einheit der mensch-
licheii Seele nach Albertus Magnus," Divus Thomas (Frib.), X (1932) 86 ff.
"" These questions have been published by Dom O. Lottin, Psychologic et Morale,
ed. cit., I, pp. 511-12.
THE CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL
PHYSICS
IN the spring of 1271 John of Vercelli, Master General of the
Order of Preachers, sent a list of forty-three questions to
three Dominican Masters in Theology for their considera-
tion. Independently of each other, the three theologians were
to consider each question carefully and reply promptly keeping
in mind the directive of the Master General: (i) Do accepted
authorities, the Sancti, maintain the doctrine or opinion con-
tained in the articles listed? (ii) Apart from the weight of
authorities, does the consultor maintain the aforesaid doctrine
or opinion? (iii) Apart from the consultor 's personal views,
could the aforesaid doctrine or opinion be tolerated without
prejudice to the faith? ^ Clearly the purpose of this question-
naire was to safeguard the truths of faith, even where the
question raised was one of philosophical opinion or strictly
natural science,
St, Thomas Aquinas had previously given his decision on
most of these questions in two private communiques to the
lector of Venice, Bassiano of Lodi,- The official questionnaire
of the Master General contained nothing of importance which
had not already been considered by St. Thomas in his two
private replies. The questions are for the most part idle
curiosities and useless fantasies, as the consultors themselves
realized. However, the official questionnaire was sent to three
outstanding Masters in the Order, and not all the questions are
without interest to the modern reader. St. Thomas' reply to
the official questionnaire has always been known to Thomists,
even though little studied. The reply of the second consultor,
* St. Thomas, Responsio ad jr. Joannem Vercdlcnsem de articulis XLII, prooem.,
ed. R. A. Verardo, O. P., Opuscula Theologica (Turin: Marietti, 1954), I, p. 211.
In this list the original q. 8 is missing.
* Responsio ad Lcctorem Venetum de articulis XXX and Responsio ad eundem
de articulis XXXVI, ed. R. A. Verardo in Opuscula Theologica^ pp. 193-208.
150
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 151
Robert Kilwardby, later archbishop of Canterbury, was dis-
covered and published by Fr. M.-D. Chenu, O. P., about thirty
years ago.^ Now with the discovery and publication of the
reply of the third consultor, the great St. Albert himself,* we
are in a position to compare the views of the three Dominican
Masters point by point.
Among the relatively few interesting questions in the list of
forty-three, the first five stand out as particularly important for
the historian and philosopher of science. They have to do with
the cause or causes of celestial motion. In the order of appear-
ance they are as follows:
1) Does God move any physical body immediately.?
2) Are all things which are moved naturally, moved under
the angels' ministry moving the celestial bodies.?
3) Are angels the movers of celestial bodies.?
4) Is it infallibly demonstrated according to anyone that
angels are the movers of celestial bodies?
5) Assuming that God is not the immediate mover of those
bodies, is it infallibly demonstrated that angels are the
movers of celestial bodies.?
To the casual reader these questions, too, might appear to be
useless in this age of scientific progress. Angels, it is frequently
thought, have no place in a discussion of scientific questions.
Some Catholic scientists, and even some Thomistic philosophers
feel considerable embarassment at the mention of angels; they
would rather not mention them at all, or at least not mention
them as having anything to do with the real world in which
we live. In medieval literature the problem of celestial movers
was not created by theologians, nor did it take its origin in
any point of Catholic faith, although St. Thomas was keenly
' M.-D. Chenu, O. P., " Les Reponses de s. Thomas et de Kilwardby a la con-
sultation de Jean de Verceil (1271)," in Melanges Mandonnet (Bibl. Thomiste
XIII: Paris 1930), vol. I, pp. 191-222.
* James A. Weisheipl, O. P., " The Problemata Determinata XLIII Ascribed to
Albertus Magnus (1271)," in Mediaeval Studies, XXII (1960), 303-354.
152 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
aware of the guiding role of faith in this matter. The problem
of celestial movers was entirely a scientific one having many
ramifications. But here, as in other problems of medieval
science, it is not sufficient to know what a particular author
maintained. It is far more important to understand the scien-
tific problem in its philosophical context and to evaluate the
arguments leading to the solution proposed. After all, the best
of medieval science is not to be found in the lapidaries, herbals
or bestiaries of the Middle Ages; least of all is it to be found in
pious legends, sermons or morality plays. Rather it is to be
found in the speculative commentaries, treatises and disputa-
tions of the schoolmen. These writings, emanating largely
from various faculties of the university, are not readily intelli-
gible to modern readers, as anyone who has tried to read them
can testify. To understand the writings of medieval authors
one needs a considerable background in the sources, a specu-
lative competence to follow the argumentation, and a famili-
arity with medieval practice. Neither the questionnaire of the
Master General nor the replies of Albertus Magnus, Thomas
Aquinas or Robert Kilwardby can be evaluated correctly with-
out reference to the sources, the argumentation and medieval
practice.
In a review of Chenu's edition of Kilwardby 's reply to the
questionnaire, Fr. Mandonnet noted the similarity between the
view of Robert Kilwardby and that of John Buridan, the
fourteenth century proponent of " impetus " to explain violent
motion. Inspired by the thesis of Duhem's J^tudes sur Leonard
de Vinci (3™^ serie) , Mandonnet was quick to point out the
modernity of Kilwardby 's universal mechanics.^ This sug-
gestion was developed at some length by Fr. Chenu in a special
study devoted to the origins of " modern science." ® Whatever
may be said of the validity of Duhem's well-known thesis, one
may perhaps doubt the utility of isolating a particular medieval
thesis — in this case one of dubious modernity — to extol the
^P. Mandonnet, O. P., Bulletin Thomiste, III (1930), 137-9.
' M.-D. Chenu, O. P., "Aux origines de la ' Science Moderne,' " in Revue des Sc.
Phil, et Theol., XXIX (1940), 206-217.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 153
modernity of medieval science. Even if there should happen
to be considerable similarity between some aspect of medieval
science and a current scientific view, this would be no more
than an interesting curiosity, unless we come to grip with an
objective philosophical problem and analyze the issues his-
torically and scientifically.
A short paper such as this cannot sketch even in broad out-
lines a picture of medieval astronomy or the history of its
development.' All that can be attempted here is an examina-
tion of the problem as seen by each of the three Dominican
Masters consulted by the Master General, and an explanation
of the views proposed, especially in their response to the oflficial
questionnaire. Since our purpose here is to understand the
medieval view, we need not be concerned about the true his-
torical intent of ancient sources, but only about how the
medieval schoolmen interpreted them. That is to say, it is not
essential here to understand what Plato, Aristotle, Ptolemy or
Al-Bitruji really meant; it is essential only that we understand
what St. Albert, St. Thomas and Kilwardby thought them to
mean. There is always the possibility that these great school-
men misunderstood or misinterpreted their sources, but this
makes little, if any, difference to the medieval view of the
scientific problem.
Preliminary Observations
In the traditional division of the speculative sciences derived
from Plato and Aristotle, astronomy occupied a peculiar posi-
tion. By astronomy we do not mean the elementary calculation
of movable feast days, the Epact or the Golden Number; nor do
we mean identification of the signs of the zodiac or prognosti-
cations from conjunctions. By astronomy is meant the theo-
retical sciences which attempts to make celestial phenomena
intelligible by means of mathematical principles. The peculiar
position of this theoretical science can be recognized clearly in
the writings of the three consultors.
'' An outline can be found in P. Duhem, Le Systeme du Monde (Paris: Hermann,
1954). vol. III.
154 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
In the first place, astronomy was classified with optics,
mechanics, harmonics and other scientiae mediae between the
sciences of pure mathematics and natural science.^ As a sci-
ence intermediate between mathematics and physics, astronomy
was considered from three points of view. First, it was con-
sidered in relation to the higher science of mathematics, to
which it is subalternated and on which it depends for its scien-
tific validity. Astronomy, it was said, accepts as established
all the conclusions of geometry and applies them to the known
measurements of celestial phenomena. In this consideration,
astronomy and the other scientiae mediae " have a closer
affinity to mathematics, because what is physical in their con-
sideration functions as something material, while what is
mathematical functions as something formal." ^ Intelligibility
in every science was taken as derived from the principles, the
formal element, as contrasted to the material element which is
the conclusion, or fact now understood scientifically.^" We
know that mathematical astronomy did not begin until Eu-
doxus of Cnidos accepted the challenge from Plato " to find out
what are the uniform and ordered movements by the assump-
tion of which the phenomena in relation to the movements of
the planets can be saved." ^^ The obviously irregular motions
in the heavens, tabulated for centuries before Plato, could not
be made intelligible except by reducing them, at least in theory,
to perfectly regular movements of geometric spheres. In other
words, astronomy was taken formally to be a mathematical
type of knowledge, extending to measurable quantities of
celestial phenomena, such as size, distance, shape, position and
velocity.
Considered in its own right, astronomy was presented as a
true speculative science, demonstrative within its own limits.
Unless there be some true demonstrations in astronomy, true
* St. Thomas, In I Post. Anal, lect. 1, n. 3; In II Phys., lect. 3, n. 8; In Boeth.
de Trin., q. 5, a. 3 ad 5-7; Sum. theol., I-II, q. 35, a. 8; II-II, q. 9, a. 2 ad 3.
* In Boeth. de Trin., q. 5, a. 3 ad 6; Sum. theol, II-II, q. 9, a. 2 ad 3.
"/n / Post. And., lect. 41, n. 11; Sum. theol, II-II, q. 1, a. 1; q. 9, a. 2 ad 3.
" Simplicius, De caclo, ed. Heiberg (Comm. in Arist. Graeca, VII) , p. 488, 18-24.
CELESTIAL ]\IOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 155
causal dependencies between principle and conclusion, this
knowledge would not deserve the name of science. The mathe-
matical principles of astronomy are themselves demonstrated in
one of the purely mathematical sciences. Moreover, in theory
" mathematical principles can be applied to motion," ^~ and
sometimes the application is clear. But very often geometrical
figures and principles must be assumed as applicable to the
celestial phenomenon under consideration, as in the case of
Eudoxus' four spheres to explain the motions of Jupiter, Cal-
lippus' seven spheres and Ptolemy's epicycle. Nevertheless, the
relationship between the principles assumed, even assumed as
applicable, and the celestial phenomenon to be saved can be
one of necessity. This connection of necessary dependency of
the conclusion on the assumed principles is sufficient to estab-
lish astronomy as a demonstrative science. It was in this sense
that St. Thomas and St. Albert interpreted Aristotle's state-
ment that, " It is the business of the empirical observers to
know the fact, of the mathematicians to know the reasoned
fact." ^^ Between the mathematical principle and the quantified
aspect of the fact, there may well be a propter quid relationship,
that is, the immediate, proper and convertible middle term of
the measured facts of the conclusion may be the mathematical
principle invoked. To this extent astronomy should be called,
and was called a true science subalternated to mathematics.
To be sure, astronomical science fell far short of the ideal of
scientific knowledge described by Aristotle in the Posterior
Analytics. It did not demonstrate through the immediate,
physical cause of celestial phenomena; at best, it demonstrated
through a kind of extrinsic formal cause (secundum causam
formalem remotam) of the natural phenomena." Even this, as
has already been suggested, is most often in a tentative, dia-
lectical and hypothetical manner.
Considered in relation to the physically real celestial bodies
^^ St. Thomas, In Boeth. de Trin., q. 5, a. 3 ad 5.
"^^Post. Anal., 1, c. 13, 79a2-3. St. Thomas, In I Post. And., lect. 25, n. 4; St.
Albert, Lib. I Post. Anal, tr. Ill, c. 7.
" St. Thomas, In I Post. Anal., lect. 25, nn. 4 & 6.
150 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
and their movements, astronomy was recognized fully as hypo-
thetical. The true causes of celestial motion are extremely
difficult for any science to discover. " These matters into which
we inquire are difficult since we are able to perceive little
of their causes, and the properties of these bodies are more
remote from our understanding than the bodies themselves are
spatially distant from our eyes." ^^ Simplicius, and possibly
Plato before him, was aware that the aim of astronomy is to
give 3ome rational account of celestial phenomena, saving all
the known facts {'X(i)(,eLv ra ^aivoixeva) .^"^ But as it turns out,
all the known facts of astronomy can be explained by a variety
of hypotheses. Of course, when a new fact is discovered which
cannot be accomodated by the existing hypothesis, then some
new hypothesis must be devised to account for the new fact.
St. Thomas, commenting on the homocentric spheres of Plato
and Eudoxus, observes:
The hypotheses which they devised (adinvenerunt) are not neces-
sarily true, for although the appearances are saved on the assump-
tion of those hypotheses, one does not have to say that they are
true, because the phenomena of celestial bodies may perhaps be
saved in some other way not yet known to man.^'^
An astronomical hypothesis which accounts for all the known
facts is indeed worthy of provisional credence. But every
astronomical hypothesis by its very nature was considered by
St. Thomas to be provisional and indemonstrative. Speaking
of this type of reasoning, St. Thomas notes:
Reasoning is employed in another way, not as furnishing an
adequate proof of a principle, but as showing how the existing
facts are in harmony with a principle already posited; as in astron-
omy the theory of eccentrics and epicycles is considered as estab-
lished, because thereby the sensible appearances of celestial move-
ments can be explained; it is not, however, as if this proof were
" St. Thomas, In II De caelo, lect. 17, n. 8.
Cf. P. Duhem, " Sc^fetj/ ra ^aLPo/Meva. Essai sur la notion de theorie physique
de Platon a Galilee," Annales de philosophie chretienne (Paris), 4 serie, VI (1908),
113 ff., 277 flf., 352 ff, 482 ff., 561 ff.
^' St. Thomas, In II De caelo, lect. 17, n. 2.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 157
[demonstratively] adequate, since some other theory might explain
them.^*
The tentative and hypothetical character of astronomical
theories was commonly recognized from the thirteenth century
onward, that is, after the acceptance of both Aristotle and
Ptolemy in Latin translation. The homocentric hypotheses
of Eudoxus and Callippus were taught in the faculty of arts
together with the Ptolemaic hypotheses of epicycles and eccen-
trics. The schoolmen frequently discussed the preferability of
one over the other in their commentaries on Aristotle.
This brings us to the second peculiar characteristic of astron-
omy recognized in the Middle Ages, namely that mathematical
astronomy was ordained to the discovery of true physical causes
in nature. The mathematical character of astronomy was
clearly evident to the schoolmen. But as mathematical, it
abstracted from all questions of efficient, final and material
causality; its concern was with the quantitative formalities of
celestial phenomena related functionally to assumed mathe-
matical principles. [Astronomi] non considerant motum caeles-
tium secundum principia Tnotus, sed potius secundam numerum
et mensuram quantitatis suae.^^ This being the case, one might
have expected such an abstract science to be an end in itself,
a purely speculative science sought for its own sake. In actual
fact, however, this was not the view of Albertus Magnus,
Thomas Aquinas or Robert Kilwardby. These three men, it is
true, did not consider the functional use of astronomy in the
same way, but they did consider astronomy to have a func-
tional use in discovering real physical causes beyond quantity.
In the Second Book of the Physics Aristotle had raised the
problem concerning the relation between the mathematical
sciences and natural science.-" Taking the case of astronomy,
Aristotle posed the dialectic: astronomy is obviously a part of
mathematics, but it is also a part of natural science since it
^* St. Thomas, Sum. theoL, I, q. 32, a. I ad 2.
" St. Albert, Lib. XI Metaph., tr. 11, cap. 10, ed. Borgnet (Paris: Vives, 1890-
1899), VI, 628a.
'" Arist., Phys. II, c. 2, 193b22-194al2.
158 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
considers the sun, moon and stars; therefore mathematics also
is a part of natural science. In reply Aristotle distinguished
purely mathematical definitions from those of natural science;
this is sufficient to establish the sciences as distinct. In confir-
mation Aristotle pointed to the quasi-physical character of
optics, harmonics and astronomy, which he called to, ^vo-tKajxepa
Twv fiadrjixaTcov (Phys., II, 2, 194a7) . Modern translators give
the more probable rendering of this phrase as " the more
physical of the branches of mathematics." It was in this sense
that Averroes (text. comm. 20) and St. Albert (ibidem) had
understood the text, William of Moerbeke, however, rendered
this phrase with equal grammatical correctness as magis physica
quam matheviatica. This translation presented St. Thomas
with the opportunity of explaining how astronomy, harmonics
and optics pertain, in a certain sense, rather to natural science
than to mathematics:
Sciences of this kind, although they are intermediate between
natural science and mathematics, are here described by the Philoso-
pher as more natural than mathematical, because each thing is
denominated and specified by its ultimate term; hence since investi-
gation in these sciences terminates in natural matter, though by
means of mathematical principles, they are more natural than
mathematical. . . . Hence astronomy is more natural than mathe-
matical.-^
Both St. Albert and St. Thomas recognized two tj^es of
astronomy: mathematical astronomy, such as was studied by
Eudoxus, Ptolemy and others, and physical astronomy, such as
Aristotle discussed in the Physics and De caelo et mundo. This
latter astronomy was considered an integral part of natural
philosophy. Unlike mathematical astronomy, physical astrono-
my attempts to discover all the physical causes of celestial
phenomena, the ultimate efficient and final cause as well as the
material and intrinsic formal cause. For Albert and Thomas
physical astronomy alone indicates the real system of the uni-
verse. The difficulties involved in discovering the real system
" In 11 Phys., lect. 3, nn. 8-9. See also Sum. theol., II-II, q. 9, a. 2 ad 3.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 159
of the universe, the moving causes of celestial motion, their
number and order, are obvious. Consequently this part of
natural philosophy abounds with tentative views and argu-
ments, having need of mathematical astronomy to suggest
possibilities. Discussing the number of celestial movements,
Aristotle himself realized the need of " that one of the mathe-
matical sciences which is most akin to philosophy, namely of
astronomy." ^" He was unable to determine the exact number
of distinct celestial motions, but he tentatively adopted the
astronomical hypotheses of Callippus minus eight uncertain
motions, taking the number of spheres to be forty-seven. From
this he argued that " the unmovable substances and principles
also may probably be taken as just so many; the assertion of
necessity must be left to more powerful thinkers." "^ That there
must be many movements and movers was accepted by St.
Albert and St. Thomas as certain, but their exact number was
hypothetical and not essential to the argument pursued.^*
In other words, for St. Albert and St. Thomas mathematical
astronomy and the other physical parts of mathematics are
considered as ordained to the discovery of physical causes in
natural philosophy. The mathematical sciences are, as it were,
the dialectical preparation for the real demonstrations in na-
tural philosophy. Since all mathematics, even the more physi-
cal parts of mathematics, prescind from motion and sensible
matter,-^ they are that much removed from reality and need
to be evaluated by that science which studies nature as it really
exists, in Tuotu et inabstracta. That is to say, the mathe-
matical sciences are subordinated to and ordained to the phi-
losophy of nature. Consequently, " if there were no substance
other than those which are formed by nature, natural science
would be the first science." ^^
" Metaph., XII, c. 8, 1073b4-5.
"/fete?., 1074al5-17.
" St. Albert, Lib. XI Metaph., tr. II, c. 17 & c. 27; St. Thomas, In XII Metaph.,
lect. 9, n. 2565; lect. 10, n. 2586.
"Boethius, De Trinitate, c. 2.
''"Metaph., VI, c. 1, 1026a28-29, and XI, c. 7, 1064b9-10.
160 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
Robert Kilwardby, on the other hand, represents a different
tradition in medieval thought.-" His is the Platonic tradition of
Robert Grosseteste, Pseudo-Grosseteste and Roger Bacon,
which considered natural science ordained to the mathematical,
and mathematics ordained to metaphysics. The Platonic hier-
archy of the sciences was seen to correspond to a real priority
of forms in nature, not, of course, existing apart from sensible
reality, but within physical bodies. Thus motion and sensible
qualities, the object of natural science, are radicated in the prior
forms of pure quantity, the object of mathematics; the forms
of quantity, in turn, are radicated in the prior form of nude
substance, the concern of metaphysics. Kilwardby, discussing
the four mathematical sciences, sees a perfect hierarchy of
priority and dignity among the mathematical forms. The
lowest of all the mathematical sciences is astronomy, for it con-
siders celestial motion through the principles of geometry; hence
astronomy is prior to and more abstract than natural science. ^^
Since discrete quantity is simpler and prior to extension, all
the sciences which deal with number are prior to geometry.
Among these the lower is the ideal harmony of numerical
proportions; the science of numerical harmony, therefore, is
prior to geometry.-'' The highest and most abstract of all the
mathematical sciences is arithmetic, or algebra, quia ipsa ut
sic, nulla aliarum indiget.^° Thus arithmetic, the sciences of
pure number, is quasi mater aliarum [scientiarum].^^ But as
Kilwardby failed to distinguish the numerical " unity " dis-
cussed in mathematics from the entitative " unity " convertible
with being, he said that it belongs to the metaphysician to
explain the cause of plurality in mathematics.^"
It may perhaps be a fair interpretation of Kilwardby 's mind
"'' See my " Albertus Magnus and the Oxford Platonists," in Proceedings Am.
Cath. Phil. Assoc, XXXII (1958), 124-139.
^** Kilwardby, De ortu scientiarum, cap. 16 ad 1. Meiton College, Oxford, MS
261, fol. 25v.
^* Ibid., cap. 24 ad 4, fol. 32ra.
*Ubid., cap. 19, fol. 27va.
'^Ibid., cap. 22, fol. 28vb.
^'^Ibid., cap. 24 ad 1, fol. 29rb; also cap. 14 ad 2, fol. 24vb.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS IGl
to say that if there wefe no metaphysics, arithmetic would be
the supreme universal science. This contrast, however, with
the view of St. Albert and St. Thomas is not perfectly symetri-
cal, since Kilwardby did not consider metaphysics to rest on
the real existence of " substance other than those which are
formed by nature." Nevertheless a clear contrast can be seen
between the Platonic orientation upward from nature to mathe-
matics and the Aristotelian orientation subordinating mathe-
matics to natural philosophy. St. Albert and St. Thomas both
defended the autonomy of natural science within the limits of
its own piincipia propria illuininantia, distinct from meta-
physics and superior to mathematics.^^
The third peculiar characteristic of astronomy recognized in
the Middle Ages was the special role it had in the discovery of
God's existence. This characteristic was not entirely new. In
pagan mythology the celestial bodies were themselves con-
sidered gods or at least the inhabitation of the gods. Pagan
philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle did not hesitate to call
celestial bodies divine. Ptolemy himself saw in astronomy the
only secure path to theology:
For that special mathematical theory would most readily prepare
the way to the theological, since it alone could take good aim at
that unchangeable and separate act [God], so close to that act are
the properties having to do with translations and arrangements of
movements, belonging to those heavenly beings which are sensible
and both moving and moved, but eternal and impassible.^
34
Al-Bitruji, St. Albert frequently points out, had this advantage
over the complicated system of Ptolemy that he considered
all celestial motions to be derived from a single first mover, who
is God.^^ For Kilwardby the path to God rose more tortuously
''^Cf. J. A. Weisheipl, " Albertus Magnus and the Oxford Platonists," ed. cit.,
pp. 136-139.
^* Ptolemy, Almagest, Bk. I, chap. 1, trans, by R. C. Tahaferro (Great Books of
the Western World, 16; Chicago, 1952), p. 6.
^^ Al-Bitruji, De motibus celorum, III, 10-14, trans, by Michael Scot, ed. Francis
J. Carmody (Berkeley: Univ. of California, 1952), pp. 79-80; St. Albert, Prob-
Jeviata Determinata, q. 1, ed. cit., p. 321; Liber de causis, I, tr. IV, c. 7, ed.
Borgnet X, 426b-427b; lib. II, tr. II, c. 1, ed. Borgnet X, 479b-480a et alibi.
162 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
from nature through astronomy, geometry, harmonics, arith-
metic to the One of metaphysics; for him the proper subject
of metaphysics is God precisely as the first cause of all plurality,
material and immaterial .^^
St. Albert's view of the matter is most interesting. Through-
out the Metaphysics and Liber de causis St. Albert repeatedly
rejected the " Platonic view " which would admit into philoso-
phy certain separated substances totally unrelated to celestial
movement. " The statement of certain Platonists that there
exist separated substances not related to movable bodies, is
entirely outside the realm of philosophical discourse, since this
cannot be proved by reason." ^^ The separated substances
called angels by Avicenna, Algazel, Isaac and Moses Maimoni-
des have nothing to do with celestial movement or with celestial
bodies; they are independent intermediaries between God and
man. For Albert the only demonstrative way to separated sub-
stances and to God is through the study of celestial motions.
Consequently not only are angels, as revealed in Sacred Scrip-
ture, outside philosophical discussion, but the intellectus uni-
versaliter agens of celestial motions can be none other than
God. That is to say, the first cause of the primum mobile and
its diurnal motion is God, and not an intermediary. That God
is " the immediate natural mover " of the universe in its
diurnal motion is taken by St. Albert as true and demonstrated
among those who know anything about philosophy .^^
Whatever modern Thomists may have to say about the
famous quinque viae of St. Thomas, it cannot be denied that for
Thomas all the proofs progress from terrestrial phenomena
through celestial phenomena eventually to God. The question
of angels in St. Thomas' philosophy will be considered later.
For the present it is important to establish only that in St.
Thomas' proofs celestial phenomena do have an important
part to play. This is not to say that the validity of those proofs
Cf. Kilwardby, De ortu scientiarum, cap. 26, fol. 32rb-va.
''' St. Albert, Liber XI Metaph., tr. II, c. 17, ed. Borgnet VI, 638a; cf. Proble-
mata determmata, q. 2, ed. cit., pp. 323-327
** St. Albert, Problemata determinata, q. 5, ed. cit., p. 328.
CELESTIAL ZMOVERS IN IMEDIEVAL PHYSICS 163
depend upon the antiquated astronomy of the Middle Ages.
The principle of each proof has universal validity and the line
of argumentation transcends all astronomy, ancient, medieval
and modem. Nevertheless to see the proofs as St. Thomas saw
them, it is necessary to accept, at least historically, the system
of the universe as he understood it.
There can scarcely be any doubt that St. Thomas' first proof
is derived historically from Aristotle's Physics and Meta-
physics. This is clearly evident in the detailed analysis pre-
sented in Summa contra gentiles, I, c. 13, where Aristotle is
explicitly cited as intending to prove the existence of God ex
parte motus duabus viis. The first way is a paraphrase of
Phys. VII, c. 1 to VIII, c. 5, text. 35; the second corresponds to
Phys. VIII, c. 5, text. 36, to the end. The first starts mth the
example of solar movement and ends disjunctively with Plato's
self-mover of the first sphere or Aristotle's separated mover of
the whole. The second starts with various types of self-movents,
showing how all must be reduced to some primum movens se
quod sit sempiternum, and ends with God as a self-movent.
" But since God is not a part of any self-movent, Aristotle in
his Metaphysics further discovers from this mover which is a
part of a self-movent, another mover entirely distinct, who is
God." Two objections to the Aristotelian argument are easily
handled. The first, that it assumes the eternity of motion con-
trary to the Catholic faith, is shown to be irrelevant, for it
makes no difference whether or not motion is eternal; there is
still need of an adequate mover. The second, that Aristotle
assumes the animation of celestial bodies contrary to the view
of many, is likewise shown to be irrelevant, for even if the celes-
tial bodies are animated, one must still conclude according to
Aristotle's principles to an unmoved mover entirely separated
from bodies. A simplified form of this manifestior via is the
only one presented by St. Thomas in his Compendium theo-
logiae for Brother Reginald of Pipemo.
The involvement of celestial bodies in the other proofs for
God's existence is not so patent in the text of St. Thomas.
However, it ought to be obvious that the argument from effi-
164 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
cient causality includes the universal agency of celestial bodies
operating in elementary bodies and in animal reproduction:
Even among naturalists it is admitted that above those contrary
agencies in nature there is a single first agent, namely the heaven,
which is the cause of the diverse motions in those lower bodies.
But since in the very heaven there is observed a diversity of posi-
tion to which the contrariety of lower bodies is reduced as to a
cause, [this diversitj^] must further be reduced to a first mover who
is moved neither 'per se nor per accidens.^^
Similarly the argument from possible and necessary beings
includes not only terrestrial necessities and contingencies, but
also the sempiternal celestial bodies and spiritual substances,
which are radically necessary beings. Their necessity for being
can, indeed, be seen as derived; therefore beyond them there
must exist an absolutely necessary being whose necessity is in
no way derived. *° The Platonic, or more specifically, the Avi-
cennian *^ argument concerning perfections clearly includes the
immutable celestial bodies in the participated inequality of
being and goodness, an inequality which needs to be derived
from a single source which is essentially being, goodness and
supreme perfection. The fifth argument likewise includes the
influence of celestial bodies and separated intelligences on
natural operations.*" Natural terrestrial operations, influenced
by celestial motions, the light and heat of the sun, are appar-
ently purposeful operations of nature; all such operations of
nature require the direction of intelligence {cypus naturae est
opus intelligentiae) .
Historically, then, the five proofs of St. Thomas for the exist-
ence of God involve celestial bodies and their movement as
he understood them. Therefore a careful consideration of celes-
tial phenomena in the physics of St. Thomas is not without
^* St. Thomas, De pot., q. 3, a. 6.
*° St. Thomas, De pot., q. 5, a. 3.
*^ De pot., q. 3, a. 5.
*'' De verit., q. 5, a. 2; Sum. contra gentiles, I, cap. 13. Cf. Averroes, In II Phys.,
comm. 75.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 165
value to the modern Thomist, however much the modern
Thomist may wish to adapt the traditional arguments.
To understand the problem of celestial movers in medieval
physics, it is necessary to present the views of Albertus Magnus
and then those of Robert Kilwardby before examining the cru-
cial problem in the doctrine of St. Thomas.
St. Albert the Great
For St. Albert both physics and metaphysics attain the
existence of God, but under different formalities and in different
ways. Physics, although it demonstrates through all the real
causes in nature, is primarily concerned with the efficient and
material cause: " if we have said anything about the form or
about the end [in physics], this was only of form insofar as it is
mobile and of end only insofar as it is the termination of the
motion of a mover." " But metaphysics deals with substantial
being and its causes; therefore in metaphysics " we directly
show that the first efficient cause is the universal end, that
from him flow all mobile substances, and that he is like a leader
of an army with respect to the universe." ** This task is proper
to metaphysics, and in this respect nothing is borrowed from
natural science. It is true that natural science proved by way
of motion the absolute immobility of the first mover, but it did
not reveal him prout ipsum est causa universi esse et forma et
finis. This is proper to metaphysics. Hence, Albert concludes,
it is evident that metaphysics is a loftier contemplation by far
than physics.
The task of physics is to explain all changes in nature, both
terrestrial and celestial. Terrestrial movements, alteration,
generation and corruption can be explained in large measure
by the celestial bodies, but since these celestial bodies them-
selves are moved, the ultimate source of this movement must
itself be immovable. This ultimate unmoved mover, proved
in the Physics, is considered by St. Albert to be God, the
" St. Albert, Lib. XI Metaph., tr. I, c. 3, ed. cit., VI, 584b.
" Ibid.
166 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
Christian God. But the approach is different in metaphysics.
Since the term of terrestrial movement and alteration is 'per se
the generation of a substantial being/^ and since the substantial
being of the very heavens must be produced, beyond the physi-
cal universe there must exist a pmicipium universi esse, who is
the efficient source of being, the formal principle of all being,
and the universal end of all things.*'' Hence it belongs to both
physics and metaphysics to consider celestial phenomena and
God, but physics considers these through the principles of
motion {secundum pnncipia motus) , while metaphysics con-
siders these through the principles of being (essendi) . In other
words, the natural philosopher arrives at the existence of God
as the first mover, but the metaphysician arrives at His exist-
ence as the efficient cause, the formal principle and the ultimate
end of all being.
This does not mean, Albert points out, that the metaphysi-
cian gives the propter quid reason for changeable substance, and
the physicist the quia, as some would have it. " For if the
physicist borrowed from the metaphysician, it would follow
that physics is subalternated to first philosophy, which from the
opening pages of this science we have shown to be false." *''
Thus physics and metaphysics are each autonomous sciences
with special principles of investigation proper to each. How-
ever, unless it is first demonstrated in physics that there exists
some real separated substance, there is no need for the sub-
sequent investigation called metaphysics. The Platonists,
Albert repeatedly points out, postulated ideas and mathe-
matical entities separate from matter in order to explain
sensible being; but these cannot exist apart from matter, and
if they did, they could not be responsible for motion in the
universe.*^ Therefore if some separated substance exists to be
studied in metaphysics, this substance can be demonstrated
is
46
St. Albert, Lib. VIII Pkys., tr. II, c. 4, ed. cit.. Ill, 572a.
St. Albert, Lib. XI Metaph., tr. I, c. 3, ed. cit., VI, 584b-585a.
" Ibid.
" St. Albert, Lib. XI Metaph., tr. I, cc. 4 & 8; lib. 1, tr. V, cc. 8, 12 & 14; lib.
VII, tr. II, c. 3, et alibi.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 167
only as the cause of motion, specifically as the cause of celestial
motion.
St. Albert accepted the order of celestial spheres commonly
taught by the Arabian astronomers. The spheres were con-
sidered generically to be ten in number: the primum mobile
causing diurnal movement of the whole universe, the sphere of
fixed stars, the spheres of Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, the Sun,
Venus, Mercury, the Moon, and the terrestrial sphere of active
and passive elements.*^ It was well understood by all that each
so-called sphere was subject to many distinct motions, each of
which required some kind of mover. But it was simpler to
talk in terms of the clearly visible planets, the fixed stars and
the unseen cause of diurnal motion, than in terms of the precise
number of celestial motions postulated to save the appearances
of each planet. Similarly, it was understood among the better
informed that the notion of " sphere " was postulated to
regularize the errant motions of the planets and to give intel-
ligibility to their complicated movements. Those spheres were
no more " solid," contrary to some modern interpretations,
than the familiar sphere of terrestrial change.
In the view of Avicenna each sphere was moved and ruled
by a separated substance, whatever may have been the number
of distinct movements required for each planet. It is within
this context that St. Albert discusses the problem of celestial
movers. But Avicenna further identified those intelligences and
the proximate mover {anima nobilis) with angels .°° St. Albert,
as has already been noted, was unwilling to identify the sepa-
rated substances of the philosophers with the angels of Sacred
Scripture. Further, the tenth intelligence for Avicenna was the
intellectus agens hominum, which ruled the terrestrial realm of
mutable substances by infusing forms from without. This dator
formarum was invoked by Avicenna to explain the apparent
generation of new substances in the world of nature. St. Albert
*' St. Albert, Problemata determinata, q. 2, ed. cit., p. 324; see ibid., note 9.
'° An excellent discussion of this has been given by Henry Corbin in his
Avicenna and the Visionary Recital, trans, by W. R. Trask (New York: Pan-
theon, Bollingen Series 66, 1960), pp. 46-122.
168 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
repeatedly rejected the Avicennian innovation with sound
Aristotelian arguments, which need not concern us here.
The real problem for St. Albert was the obvious difference
between terrestrial changes arising from nature and celestial
motions which could not arise from nature. The term " nature "
is a technical one and it designates that " principle of motion
and rest in those things to which it belongs properly {per se)
and not as a concomitant attribute (per accidens) ," " Tech-
nically it was contrasted with soul {anima, ^vxr]) and with
intelligence (intelligentia, vov<;) , particularly in Platonic and
neo-Platonic writings; and it was also contrasted with art
{ars, Texvy]) and with chance (casus, avroixaTov) by Aristotle.
Nature as an intrinsic principle always acts in a determined
manner for a predetermined end.^^ This nature must always be
efficiently produced by some generator of the form. Once this
natural form has been generated by an efficient cause, that
nature spontaneously moves toward the unique end propor-
tioned to it and rests in the possession of the end. " Hence
place and motion are given by the generator just as the form is,
but the form is given principally, while place and motion are
given per consequens, just as proper accidents are given to the
form by generation." °^ Moreover, strictly speaking, " nature "
designates the internal power of inanimate substances {natura
non est nisi virtus inanimatae suhstantiae) .^* Finally, nature
is a source of individual attainment, and not of transient ac-
tivity. Hence " locomotion is never derived [efficiently] from
nature as ' the principle of motion and rest in those things to
which it belongs properly and not concomitantly,' as defined
by Aristotle in Physics II; for which reason, as we have said,
locomotion must be derived either from the generator or from
one removing an impediment or from a soul." ^^ In other words,
"Aristotle, Phijs., II, c. 1, 1921b21-23. Cf. James A. Welsheipl, "The Concept
of Nature," in The New Scholasticism, XXXVIII (1954), 377-408.
" Cf. Albert, Lib. VIII Phys., tr. II, c. 4, et passim.
^^ Ibid., ed. cit.. Ill, 572a-b.
" St. Albert, Lib. XI Metaph., tr. I, c. 13, ed. cit., VI, 604.
^° St. Albert, Problemata determinata, q. 2, ed. cit., p. 325.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 169
since celestial motions do not attain any end, these motions
cannot arise spontaneously from the nature of celestial bodies.
For St. Albert, as for Plato and Aristotle before him, celestial
motions must be derived immediately from some kind of soul,
or self-mover.
Comparing the views of Plato and Aristotle,^® Albert notes
that both agree on three points: (i) that all natural motions
must be reduced to some self-movent; (ii) that a celestial body
cannot move itself, but must be moved by a spiritual substance
which is either a soul or an intellect; (iii) that the spiritual
mover of the body must itself be indivisible, without magni-
tude, possessing adequate power to move the celestial body.
However, Albert notes, Plato and Aristotle differ on two essen-
tial points: (i) Plato considered the conjoined mover to be the
ultimate mover, while Aristotle considered this soul to be the
instrument of a higher intellect entirely separated from all mat-
ter; (ii) Plato considered the celestial soul to be perpetual and
descendent from the stars, while Aristotle conceived the con-
joined mover to be produced by the separated intellect and
moved by it. In other words, Aristotle, according to St. Albert's
understanding, admitted a conjoined mover for each celestial
motion, a mover which was somewhat similar to a spiritual,
intellectual soul, but without sense faculties. This conjoined
mover explained how a celestial body like the primum caelum
could be moved perpetually without attaining any end or
finality intrinsic to itself. However, the conjoined mover itself
was moved by reason of the celestial body; that is, the anima
caeli moved concomitantly {per accidens) with the celestial
body, much as the human soul is moved by the movement of
the body. Therefore, the anima caeli is a moved mover, needing
to be moved by another, a substance entirely separated from
matter not only in definition, but also in existence. The spirit-
ual anima caeli can be moved only by intellection and desire.
The initial intellectual light emanating from the subsisting act-
^» St. Albert, Lib. VIII Phys., tr. U, c. 8.
170 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
ing intellect, giving the soul the idea and the desire to move,
is the true immediate mover of the universe.
As St. Albert understands it, when Aristotle speaks of the
heavens or the celestial bodies, he usually means the composite
of soul and body, mover and moved; the heavens are for Aris-
totle animated substances {substantiae animatae) . While it
is easier to talk of the sun as though it were a simple substance,
the movement of the sun is complex and due to many animated
substances. For Aristotle at least the diurnal, longitudinal and
latitudinal motions are distinct; each of these is caused by an
animated celestial body. Ultimately these motions of the sun
and all other planetary motions are due to the diurnal motion
of the entire universe, the primum caelum, the first animated
cause of the universe.
Now the animated substance is the cause not only of inanimate
substances, but also of their order and motion. According to the
teaching of the Peripatetics, this animated substance is the corpus
caeli. Moreover, it was shown in Book VIII of the Physics that the
first mover, which is a composite of mover and moved, or pushed,
is the first heaven (primum caelum.) . In this manner it was there-
fore shown that the animate precedes the inanimate. We have
likewise shown in that same place at the end of Book VIII of the
Physics, first that the first mover is absolutely simple, and that this,
since it is related to the first body as its mover, unquestionably will
have the character of soul, and not nature (pro certo habebit
rationem animae et non naturae) , because nature never moves that
body whose nature it is according to local motion.^^
Plato, according to St. Albert, stopped here with the anima
mundi as God, but Aristotle realized that each soul, since it is
moved along with the body, must be moved by the desire for
some absolutely separated intelligence. Thus for Aristotle the
separated intelligence known and desired by the first animated
mover is the actual source of all physical movement and the
ultimate end of every celestial motion. There is, in other words,
a hierarchy of intelligences proportioned to the various orders
of animated substances. There is, for example, at least one illu-
■*' St. Albert, Lib. XI Metaph., tr. I, c. 13, ed. cit., VI, 604b.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 171
minating intellect for all the animated movers of Venus, another
for Jupiter, and so forth. The highest separated intelligence is
the true immediate mover of the entire universe, the primum
caelum. The mind and will of God are obediently accepted and
executed by the animated substances, who consequently move
as moved movers.
When discussing this matter on his own terms, St. Albert
prefers to keep three elements distinct: the celestial body, the
soul-like mover, and the separated intelligence. The reason
for this is that Albert could not accept Aristotle's concept of
celestial " souls " as the substantial form of the body. For
Albert these " souls " could not be the substantial form of an
inorganic, insensitive body, such as the moon and sun; this kind
of body would be entirely useless for intellectual processes.
Consequently these " souls " move the body only as an efficient
cause, not as a formal cause.^^ In his early work, the Summa
Parisiensis, Albert was willing to reconcile Aristotle's " souls "
with the Catholic doctrine of angels."^ Later, however, Albert
became most insistent that the angels of revelation should not
be identified with celestial souls or intelligences. According to
Giles of Lessines, a disciple of St. Albert, Haec est 'positio
multorum viagnorum et praecise domini Alberti quondam
Ratisponensis episcopi, oh cuius reverentiam rationes prae-
dictam positionem confirmantes addidimus.^° Albert's strong
views distinguishing angels from intelligences and souls were
shared by Theodoric of Freiberg, another disciple of his.®^ The
^^ " Nos cum Sanctis confitemur caelos non habere animas, nee esse animalia,
si anima secundum propriam rationem sumatur. . . . Operatur autem ad corpus
ut nauta ad navem, hoc est, secundum rationem movendi ipsum et regendi."
Summa de creaturis, tr. Ill, q. 16, a. 2, ed. Borgnet XXXIV, 443a. In this edition
" natura " is erroneously printed for " nauta."
^' " Ita non est contrarium fidei quosdam angelos iuvare naturam in movendo
et gubernando sphaeras caelorum, quos Angelos moventes sive intelligentias Phi-
losophi dicunt animus." Ibid., ad 6, p. 445b.
*° Giles de Lessines, De unitate formae, P. II, c. 5, ed. M. de "Wulf in Les
Philosophes Beiges, I (Louvain, 1902), p. 38.
®^ " Est autem et hoc circa iam dicta tenendum, quod dicti philosophi, loquentes
de mtelligentiis, non loquebantur de angelis, de quibus scriptura sacra loquitur,
quae loquitur mysteria abscondita a sapientibus et prudentibus et revelat ea par-
172 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
reason for Albert's view is clearly stated in the reply to John
of Vercelli's questionnaire: the separated intelligence known
to philosophers is entirely immobile locally, nee mittitur nee
venit nee reeedit^- This is entirely contrary to what we know
of Gabriel, Raphael and Michael according to the Scriptures.
Further, the separated intelligence is known to philosophers
solely as the cause of celestial motion and of inferior forms,
while the angels of Scripture are the messengers of God, a
function which cannot be proved by natural reason.*^'
To understand St. Albert better, we must consider celestial
motion itself and its three distinct causes, namely the body, the
soul-like mover, and the separated intelligence.
St. Albert clearly insists throughout all his writings that
celestial motion cannot be accounted for by the nature of the
celestial body. That is to say, perpetual motion of the spheres
cannot originate spontaneously from " nature " as from a
formal principle. Scholastic philosophy, following Aristotle,
distinguished two uses of the technical term " nature." ®* The
primary and principal use of the term was to designate an
intrinsic active source of regular, teleological activity and at-
tainment; nature in this sense was called a formal principle,
since form is the ultimate source of these activities. In a
secondary and analogical sense the innate, passive receptivity
for the form could also be called " nature," since potency is a
true principle of change; nature in this sense was called a
material or passive principle. For St. Albert none of the char-
acteristics of nature as a formal principle could be verified in
vulis." Theodoric of Freiberg, De intellectu et intelligibili, P. I,cap. 12, ed. E. Krebs
in Beitrdge z. Gesch. d. Phil. d. M.-A., Bd. V, heft 5-6 (Miinster, 1906), pp. 132*-
133*. Cf. ibid., P. II, cap. 34, pp. 164-165*. I am grateful to Fr. William A.
Wallace, O. P., for allowing me to utilize his transcription of Theodoric's De intelli-
genciis et motoribus celorum and De corporibus celestibus quoad naturam eorum
corporalem from MS Vat. lat. 2183.
^'^ St. Albert, Problemata determinata, q. 2, ed. cit., p. 323.
"^ Ibid., q. 5, ed. cit., p. 328.
'* Cf. J. A. Weisheipl, " The Concept of Nature," loc. cit. above in note 51 and
reprinted in Nature and Gravitation (River Forest: Albertus Magnus Lyceum,
1955), pp. 1-32.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 173
celestial motions. Nature as a formal principle always moves
toward a determined end, and when it has attained it, rests in
that attainment. " The reason for this is that nature does not
cause local motion except 'per consequens, for in moving toward
the form it consequently moves to the place which belongs to
its form." In the celestial motions there is never any attain-
ment and possession. " The mover of the heaven never moves
to any position, but to move out of it again. But to move into
a position and to move out of it again is not from nature, but
from soul." ^^ For this reason Albert frequently insisted that
celestial motions are not from nature, but from intelligence
(caeli motus non dicitur naturae motus, sed intelligentiae) .^^
Albert undoubtedly would have admitted that celestial motions
are " natural " in the sense of coming from a passive principle,
the celestial body. But invariably he prefers to deny the natural
character of celestial motions, insisting always that they are not
from nature, but from soul or intelligence. Precisely because
the body itself is not the source of its perpetual movement,
it is said to be moved. " Everything which is moved has a
mover conjoined to itself, as was proved in the Seventh Book of
the Physicsr "
The nature of the conjoined mover is difficult to determine
in the wi'itings of St. Albert, largely, no doubt, because Albert
retained the Aristotelian terminology while denying the sub-
stantial union of the two " parts " of the sphere. The con-
joined mover is clearly a spiritual substance, indivisible, and
separated from all matter, at least in definition .^^ It moves the
body by its knowledge and desire of something higher.®^ " Since
*^ " Adhuc autem natura non movet nisi ad unum, et cum pervenerit, quiescit in
illo. Cuius causa est, quia natura non est causa motus localis nisi per consequens:
movendo enim ad formam, per consequens movet ad locum qui est illius formae.
Motor autem caeli non movet unquam ad aliquem situm, nisi moveat etiam ex illo.
In aliquid igitur movere et ex iUo non est naturae, sed animae." St. Albert, Lib. XI
Metaph., tr. I, c. 13, ed. cit., p. 605b.
** St. Albert, Lib. II Phys., tr. I, c. 2, ed. cit., p. 95b.
" St. Albert, Lib. XI Metaph., tr. II, c. 3, ed. cit, p. 614a; see Lib. VII Phys.,
text et comm. 10.
«' St. Albert, Lib. XI Metaph., tr. II, cc. 12-13.
'"Ibid., c. 13, ed. cit., p. 605a.
174 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
every motion of the heaven is according to the form which is in
the intellect, as the artistic idea is in the mind of the artist, so
in the intellect of the mover there is the image to be effected by
its motion; otherwise its motion would be unintentional, a
chance result and an accident." ^'^ At times St. Albert does call
this conjoined mover a " soul," particularly the anima nohilis
of the Liher de causis (prop. 3) . But more frequently he con-
ceives the mover as a luminous form of intelligence and desire,
produced by the separated intelligence. " Since the intelligence
by its light produces every form in its sphere and order, and
since those forms are its light {lumen) and this light desires
to produce beings in existence {luTuen desiderans ad esse de-
ducere) , the proximate mover of the orb moves the orb and by
moving produces forms in existence." ^^ The conjoined mover,
therefore, is an intelligent form, but not the " soul " of the
sphere. " Thus it is evident that the intelligence is not an angel;
and if it were, it would still not be the proximate mover of any
celestial sphere." ^^
It is important to note that for St. Albert the luminous
forms, the conjoined movers of celestial bodies, are the true
causes of everything which is produced within that sphere.
That is to say, the luminous form, obedient to a higher intelli-
gence, is the active principle of such mysterious phenomena
as animal reproduction, and the spontaneous generation of
living things from inanimate matter." " Every lower motion
which is in the matter of generable things is reduced to the
motion of the heavens, which is the cause and measure of lower
motion by means of (i) the form of the moving intelligence,
(ii) the form of the celestial orb, and (iii) stellar rays." '* The
active powers of light, heat, conjunctions of the planets and
stars are, for St. Albert, instrumental causes of the celestial
forms whereby the natural powers of the elements can be pro-
'» Ihid.
'^ St. Albert, Problemata determinata, q. 2, ed. cit., p. 327.
" Ibid.
" St. Albert, Lib. XI Metaph., tr. I, cc. 6 & 8.
Ibid., c. 8, ed. cit., p. 594a; cf. Problemata determinata, qq. 7-15 and qq. 34-36.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 175
ductive of higher forms. One can say that these higher forms
produced preexist in the elements virtually insofar as these
elements are instruments of celestial movers. Of course, the
celestial mover is itself a voluntary, intellectual instrument of
the absolutely first intelligence, which is God. Similarly the
male sperm virtually and actively contains the living and sen-
tient souls of the embryo, but only as the instrument of celes-
tial forces and intelligences. In other words, the natural heat,
density, mobility and structure of the male sperm are used
instrument ally by celestial agents to produce an effect higher
than their own active powers. ^^ It was in this way that St.
Albert understood and explained the famous Aristotelian
phrase. Homo ex materia generat hominem et sol. (Phys. II,
2, 194bl3) .''^ The only qualification which Albert, the phi-
losopher and theologian, makes to this phrase is the direct
creation of the human soul.'^
Finally, for Albert, the separated movers of celestial bodies
are the active intelligences {intellectus agens) . Each intelli-
gence is like a practical intellect of an artist who conceives the
image to be produced and implants this in his instruments as
he uses them. The instruments of the active intelligence are
three-fold, namely the conjoined spiritual mover, the celestial
body itself, and the inherent powers of terrestrial nature. Con-
sequently the ultimate mover of each celestial body is, in fact,
the separated active intelligence proportioned to the spheres.
Since, however, all celestial spheres depend upon the diurnal
motion of the first heaven, the absolutely first mover of all the
celestial bodies is the separated, active intelligence command-
ing the primum caelum. This absolutely first mover is the
primum principium universi esse, the cause not only of all
75
7« "
' St. Albert, Problemata determinata, q. 34; De animalibiis XVI, tr. I, cc. 11-13.
' Quod enim impressiones separatorum a materia generabilium sint in materia
patet per hoc quod ex materia hominis homo generat hominem, et sol et motor
solis; et ideo oportet considerare separata in quantum impressiones earum per
motum caelestium sunt in generabilibus et corruptibilibus." St. Albert, Lib. 11
Phys., tr. I, c. 11, ed. cit., pp. 113-4. See Averroes, ibid., comm. 26.
''"' Problemata determinata, q. 33; De nat. et orig. animae, tr. I, c. 5; De animxi-
libus, lib. XVI, tr. I, cc. 11-12; Summa de creaturis, P. II, q. 5, a. 4.
176 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
motion, but also the absolute efficient cause, formal principle
and ultimate end of all being. He produces not only the hier-
archy of conjoined celestial movers, their bodies and motion,
but he is also the first efficient cause, formal principle and final
end of each intelligence. The first principle of universal being
is commonly designated by St. Albert as the intellectus univer-
saliter agens, who, as has already been noted, is God Himself.
As first mover of the heavens He is attained in natural science;
as first cause of being He is attained in metaphysics.
Once Albert has established in his reply to the Master
General that angels are not the same as intelligences discovered
by the philosophers, he can easily dismiss the first five ques-
tions as fatuous. The existence of angels, the messengers of
God, cannot be proved in philosophy; they have nothing to do
with problems of natural science; and even if God were not
the first mover of the heavens — which He really is — the exist-
ence of angels would still not be demonstrated. God, for St.
Albert, is the first cause of celestial motions, not as a form
conjoined to the universe, but as a separated active intelligence
commanding the motions of all, " since Aristotle says that the
first cause moves the first heaven, to the motion of which all
motions of celestial bodies are referred, as all movements of
organic members are referred to the movement of the heart." ^^
The only body which God moves immediately as conjoined
to Himself is the body of Christ, joined hypostatically to the
Word.
Robert Kilv^ardby
The approach of Kilwardby is very different from that of St.
Albert. Kilwardby, in fact, reflects much more the schools of
Oxford than those of Paris, despite his own regency in arts at
Paris (c. 1237-c. 1245) . He had been a Master in Theology of
Oxford about fifteen years when he was asked to reply to the
questionnaire of John of Vercelli. We cannot be certain that
Kilwardby always maintained the views presented in the reply
of 1271, but we can be certain of his views at that date.
''^ Problemata determinata, q. 1, ed. cit., p. 321; cf. Aristotle, De caelo et mundo,
II, c. 2, 284b6-286a2.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 177
Replying to the first question, Kilwardby explicitly denies
that God is the immediate mover of the heavens moving either
eternally or temporally in place: certissime tenendum est et
asserenduTn quod Deus non movet "priraum caeluTn nee aliquod
corpus immediate motu localiJ^ He admits that Aristotle
seems to consider God as the first mover of the eternal spheres,
" but the truth is that God does not move any body immedi-
ately " by continual locomotion. If God did move any body
in this way, He would be either the substantial act of that body
and a part of the whole or a simple mover like a man on a horse.
The first alternative is obviously erroneous. The second is
awkward and unreasonable for it implies that the first heaven
is moved by violence: secundo modo caelum primuTn videre-
tur moveri violenter. Kilwardby, however, does admit that
God can and does move bodies immediately by a certain
supernatural change, as in creation, the production of light,
the formation of Eve and similar events. In such events God
operates without the assistance of nature or angels. Concluding
his reply to the first query, Kilwardby categorically states:
From these considerations, therefore, the reply to the question
must be that God moves no body immediately by continuous
motion, but only by His word when a body is changed instan-
taneously so that something supernaturally begins to exist.
The second question has to do with natural motions and their
dependence on angelic movers of the celestial bodies. Kil-
wardby first distinguishes between natural and violent motions.
Nature is an intrinsic principle of motion; only bodies which
have such a principle per se are said to move naturally. Mo-
tions are called violent when their moving force is extraneous,
the subject contributing nothing to the motion (quando prin-
cipiwm motivum est extraneum, passo non conjerente) . Among
natural motions Kilwardby enumerates continuous movement
of bodies, instantaneous transmission of light, the irascible and
concupiscible emotions of spiritual beings, and intellectual ac-
tivity. Clearly, intellectual and appetitive activities of spiritual
''^ Kilwardby, Responsio, q. 1, ed. Chenu, loc. cit., p. 194.
178 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
beings are not affected by celestial movement; rather, such
spiritual activities are productive of celestial motion.
There are for Kilwardby two types of celestial motion. The
first emanates from celestial bodies in the form of energy and
light rays affecting all the active and passive powers of ter-
restrial bodies, both elementary and composite. This cosmic
influence is produced by the celestial bodies, but the influence is
subjectively located in terrestrial bodies. " And perhaps if this
influence of light and energy were withdrawn from elements
and composites, all active and passive powers of bodies would
cease to act or react; hence this influence seems to be the 'per se
cause of natural activity and movement in the elements." ^'^
There is, however, another motion located in the celestial body
itself; this is the continual rotation of the sphere. Kilwardby
does not consider this rotational movement of the spheres to
have any direct or proper bearing on natural terrestrial motion.
Such motions do provide variations of temperature, humidity
and the like, but this is secondary to the direct cosmic influence
affecting natural changes.
Finally Kilwardby proceeds to discuss the crucial question
of celestial movers. He notes that there are three opinions
concerning the motion of celestial bodies. The first is that of
Aristotle and certain other philosophers. Kilwardby 's inter-
pretation of Aristotle's view is essentially that of St. Albert:
" celestial bodies are animated, having animal life and intelli-
gence by which they perceive the will of the first cause, and
motion in place by which they fulfill the known will of God;
by this motion of theirs they conserve things and preserve
generation and the limited being of generable natures." ^^ In
this view celestial bodies are moved by spirits which are their
" souls " just as man is moved by his spirit, or soul. It is inter-
esting to note in passing that the author of Errores philoso-
phorum does not attribute animation of the heavens to Aristotle
or Averroes, but exclusively to Avicenna:
80
Ibid., q. 2, ed. dt., p. 196.
*^ Responsio, q. 2 § De tertio. For this part of the reply we rely on the emended
edition published by Chenu in Revue des Sc. Phil, et Theol. XXIX (1940), 211.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 179
Again [Avicenna] erred' on the subject of the animation of the
heavens. For he held that the heavens were animated. He said
that the soul of the heavens is not only a suitable moving power, as
the Philosopher and the Commentator were intent upon saying,
but that a single being is produced by the union of the soul of the
heavens with the heavens, just as by the union of our soul and
our body.^'
Concerning this presumed view of Aristotle, Kilwardby notes
that it is philosophically sound and supported by reason:
" since those bodies seem to be more noble than living bodies,
they ought to have a higher form of life." Nevertheless in 1277
the Bishop of Paris condemned the proposition " that celestial
bodies are moved by an intrinsic principle, which is a soul." ^^
And St. Albert, as we have seen, clearly rejected celestial ani-
mation as alien to the Catholic faith.
The second opinion listed by Kilwardby is in reality that of
St. Thomas: " others hold that those bodies are moved by
angelic spirits who govern and move them in such a way that
they are not their act, or form." Kilwardby dismisses this view
as unphilosophical, and he remarks, " Nor do I recall it being
approved by any of the Sancti as true and certain." However,
Kilwardby does admit in passing that it could be held absque
error e by Catholics.^*
Kilwardby 's own view of celestial motion is presented suc-
cinctly as the third opinion:
Just as heavy and light bodies are moved to a place in which they
rest by their own inclinations and tendencies, so celestial bodies
are moved circularly in place by their own natural inclinations
similar to weight {quasi ponderibus) in order to conserve corrup-
tible things lest they suddenly perish and fail.
Some spheres rotate naturally from West to East, others from
®° Giles of Rome, Errores phUosophorum, VI: Avicenna, 10, ed. Josef Koch, trans,
by J. O. Riedl (Milwaukee: Marquette, 1944), p. 31.
** Chartularium Univ. Paris., ed. H. Denifle, 0. P., I, n. 473, p. 548, prop. 92;
see also prop. 213. Cf. E. Krebs, Meister Dietrich, in Beitrdge z. Gesch. d. PhU. d.
M.-A., Bd. V, heft 5-6 (Miinster, 1906), pp. 75-76.
** Cf. J. A. "Weisheipl, " The Problemata Determinata Ascribed to Albertus
Magnus," loc. cit., p. 304, note 8.
180 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
East to West, and still others move naturally as epicycles, and
others on the eccentric. To each planet and orb God gave an
innate natural inclination to move in a particular way in rota-
tional motion; to each He accorded an innate order, regularity
and direction without the need of a distinct agency like a soul,
an angel or Himself here and now producing the motion. " Just
as the forces (pondera) of heavy and light move bodies con-
sistently, not permitting them to stray outside a determined
path, so it is with the forces of each and every celestial body."
Consequently rotational motion is as natural to celestial bodies
as gravitational motion is to heavy bodies. Both arise spon-
taneously from nature as an intrinsic active principle, instinctu
proprioruTn ponderum (q. 3) . It was commonly recognized
among the schoolmen that heavy bodies need nothing more
than their own generated nature to account for gravitational
motion; heavy bodies need no conjoined mover to account for
the continued downward fall.®^ Kilwardby wished to explain
celestial motions by a similar intrinsic formal principle. Ter-
restrial bodies are unattached and hence move rectilinearly to
a place of relative rest. But for Kilwardby the heavens are
spherical; stars and planets are attached to their proper orbs
within a sphere. Consequently the only " natural " motion the
heavens could have is rotational, a continual rotation of each
orb on its axis. The combination of various rotations on suit-
able axes together with the required uniform velocity of each
rotation produced the apparent motion of the planet. Kil-
wardby thus dispenses with the need of any conjoined or
separated mover, whether that mover be called a soul, an
angel, intelligence or God. It is clear from this that Kilwardby
could not prove the existence of God through physical motion.
He cannot even prove the existence of a separated substance.
Because of the great diversity of opinion concerning celestial
movers, Kilwardby maintained that it is impossible to prove
that angels move the spheres (q. 4) . Philosophers think that
they have infallibly demonstrated the existence of spiritual
*^ Cf. J. A. Weisheipl, Nature and Gravitation, ed. cit., pp. 19-21, 25-28.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 181
movers for the heavens', but these are certainly not the angels
discussed by Catholics. Even assuming that God is not the
immediate mover of the heavens — which according to Kil-
wardby He is not — it is in no way proved that angels have to
be celestial movers (q. 5) . Unlike St. Albert, Kilwardby con-
ceives the physical universe as perfectly self-contained, per-
fectly " natural," having no need of immaterial agencies direct-
ing and moving the heavens. His is the closed world created
by God in the beginning with sufficient innate tendencies to
move rectilinearly and rotationally.
This view was not original with Robert Kilwardby. Fr.
Daniel A. Callus has pointed out that this idea can be traced
to the earliest days of Aristotelianism in Oxford. Some sixty
years before Kilwardby's reply, John Blund gave as his con-
sidered opinion that the heavenly bodies are not moved by
souls, nor by intelligences, but by their own active nature
moving orbiculariter.^^ As is commonly known, this opinion
found favor among many in the fourteenth and fifteenth
century.
Fr. Chenu saw in Kilwardby's view an anticipation of John
Buridan's famous suggestion about celestial motions, that an
impetus (given by God) is also found in the celestial spheres,
but one which cannot be diminished by resistance, since celes-
tial matter offers no resistance.®'^ In all terrestrial projectiles
impetus is diminished and overcome by nature resisting the
violent force. But in Aristotelian theory celestial bodies could
offer no resistance, since they had no weight or gravity; they
were considered completely passive, having " nature " only as
a passive principle of motion. Consequently Buridan's sug-
gestion of an initial impetus for celestial motion was a perfectly
obvious one; it presupposes Aristotle's doctrine of the pure
passivity of those bodies. In other words, it is precisely because
** " Dicimus quod firmamentum movetur a natura, non ab anima, et alia super-
celestia." The full passage is published by Daniel A. Callus, O. P., " The Treatise
of John Blund On the Soul," in Autour d'Aristote (Louvain, 1955) , pp. 487-9.
" Cf. Pierre Duhem, tltudes sur Leonard de Vind, III (Paris: Nobele, 1955) ,
p. 42.
182 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
such bodies have no active " nature " that they can, in the
scheme of Buridan, receive a perpetual impetus for continued
motion. This is quite different from Kilwardby's conception of
celestial spheres actively inclined to circular motion, for here
the " nature " of celestial bodies is an active principle. The
final result of both views may be similar or even identical, but
the theoretical foundation of Buridan's theory of impetus for
the heavens is profoundly dissimilar to the views of Kilwardby.
Kilwardby's view, however, was common enough in later
centuries. It was favored particularly by Platonists and semi-
Platonists. Notably Nicholas of Cusa attempted to explain the
circular motion of the heavens by an appeal to their orbicular
shape; their matter, being different from terrestrial matter,
naturally tended to move orbicularly, that is, by rotating.^^
Copernicus himself explained the circular motion of the heav-
enly bodies by their spherical nature:
Now we note that the motion of the heavenly bodies is circular.
Rotation is natural to a sphere and by that very act is its shape
expressed. For here we deal with the simplest kind of body, where-
in neither beginning nor end may be discerned, nor, if it rotates
ever in the same place, may the one be distinguished from the
other.^^
For Copernicus, as for Kilwardby before him, the substantial
form of a spherical body naturally tends to move spherically.
Surprisingly, for Copernicus the outermost sphere of the fixed
stars, though spherical by nature, was said to be at rest.^° It
must be admitted, however, that Copernicus was not concerned
with explaining the physical causes of celestial motion, as this
is beyond the scope of mathematical astronomy.
We may seriously doubt that Kilwardby's reply influenced
later writers; it certainly did not influence John Buridan.
Nevertheless it does represent an important medieval view
concerning celestial motion.
** Nicholas of Cusa, De ludo globi, lib. I (Basel, 1565), pp. 210-214.
** N. Copernicus, De revolutionihus orbium caelestium, lib. I, c. 4 (Thorn, 1873) ,
p. 14; also c. 8, pp. 21-24.
»" Ibid., c. 10, pp. 28-29.
celestial movers in medieval physics 183
St. Thomas Aquinas
The reply of St. Thomas is the shortest and most succinct
of the three. He adheres strictly to the forma expected, appeal-
ing to the Sancti (Scripture, Augustine, Pseudo-Dionysius,
Gregory, Jerome) and evaluating all questions in the light of
Catholic faith. " It seems to me safer," he says in the prooem-
ium, " that doctrines commonly held by philosophers which are
not contrary to the faith be neither asserted as dogmas of faith
(although they may sometimes be introduced as philosophical
arguments) nor denied as contrary to the faith, lest occasion
be offered to men learned in human wisdom to ridicule the doc-
trine of faith."
In his important theological treatise, De suhstantiis separatis,
St. Thomas considers the relative merits of Plato and Aristotle
on the question of angels.^^ Plato — really Proclus — is under-
stood by St. Thomas to have postulated various orders of
spiritual substances between the human soul and God. Under
God, the supreme unity and goodness, there is the order of
secondary gods who are the Forms or Ideas eternally radiant.
Inferior to these is the order of separated intellects, " which
participate in the above-mentioned Forms in order to have
actual understanding." Next come the various orders of soul,
each one inhabiting a certain kind of body. Celestial souls
animate celestial bodies and move them, in such a manner that
" the highest of the bodies, namely the first heaven, which is
moved by its own motion, receives motion from the highest
soul, and so on to the very lowest of the heavenly bodies."
Below celestial souls are the demons who inhabit unearthly
bodies. The lowest intellectual soul is man, who although he
inhabits a visible body " as a sailor in a ship," also has another
nobler body belonging to the soul, incorruptible and everlast-
ing, even as the soul itself is incorruptible. Souls below man,
such as plant and animal souls, lack intelligence and immor-
tality. If all these views of Plato were true, notes St. Thomas,
Cap. 1-4. For the treatise De suhstantiis separatis we rely on the excellent
English version of Fr. Francis J. Lescoe (West Hartford: St. Joseph College, 1959) .
184 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
then all orders between God and man would be called ' angels '
by Catholics.
The fundamental weakness of Plato's position, as St. Thomas
sees it, is that it is without proof, for his separated intelligences
are merely postulated, not demonstrated. " That is why Aris-
totle proceeded by a more manifest and surer way, namely, by
way of motion, to investigate substances that are separate from
matter." St. Thomas' interpretation of Aristotle is substanti-
ally that of St. Albert and Kilwardby. Since all generable and
celestial bodies are moved, they must be moved ultimately
by a substance which is not material. The immaterial soul con-
joined to celestial bodies is moved concomitantly with the
body, therefore it is moved by knowledge and desire of abso-
lutely separated intelligences. " Therefore each of the heavenly
bodies is animated by its own soul and each has its own sepa-
rate appetible object which is the proper end of its motion."
For Aristotle, then, there are as many intelligences as there
are celestial souls, and as many celestial souls as there are
motions. It was Avicenna, according to St. Thomas, who er-
roneously limited the number of separated intelligences to ten,
thinking that the multiple motions of a planet could be " or-
dered to the motion of one star." In any case, according to the
position of Aristotle, between man and God " there exists only
a two-fold order of intellectual substances, namely the sepa-
rated substances which are the ends of the heavenly motions,
and the souls of the spheres, which move through appetite and
desire." ^^ Aristotle and Plato both agree that all immaterial
substances have their entire being from God, that they are
entirely immaterial, and that they are ruled by divine provi-
dence. They differ, however, with respect to the number and
precise character of separated substances as well as to their
relevance to the physical order.
For St. Thomas the theologian, Aristotle made three serious
errors concerning angels. First, he erroneously limited their
number to what could be ascertained by celestial motion; there
t2
Ibid., c. 2, n. 10; cf. In II De caelo, lect. 18, n. 16.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 185
is no demonstrative reason why they cannot be more numerous,
as Catholic theology teaches .^^ Second, he erred by considering
some to be substantially united to celestial bodies as their soul;
such a union is unreasonable and contrary to Catholic teach-
ing.^* Finally, Aristotle erred in considering angels and the
universe to have existed from all eternity; such eternity cannot
be demonstrated by reason. ^^ St. Thomas himself never doubted
that Plato and Aristotle admitted another mode of " coming-
into-being " besides physical generation for immaterial sub-
stances and the universe. " Over and above the mode of be-
coming by which something comes to be through change or
motion, there must be a mode of becoming or origin of things,
without any mutation or motion through the influx of being
{'per iiifluentiam essendi) ." ^^ St. Thomas goes on to say that,
although Plato and Aristotle did posit that immaterial sub-
stances and even heavenly bodies always existed, " we must
not suppose on that account that they denied to them a cause
of their being." ^^ On this point they did not depart from the
position of the Catholic faith.
We can now return to St. Thomas' reply to the official ques-
tionnaire. His reply to the first three questions simply states
that God normally rules His creation through intermediaries,
the lower and more gross bodies being ruled by the higher and
more subtle. The divine power, however, is in no way limited
to the order it has established. Assuming that angels are the
°^ Ibid., c. 2, nn. 12-13; cf. Sum. contra gent., 11, c. 92.
^* Ibid., c. 18, nn. 100-101; cf. De spirit, creat., a. 5; Sum. contra gent., 11, c.
91; SuTn. theol., I, q. 51, a. 1; De pot., q. 6, a. 6.
^^ Ibid., c. 2, n. 14; cf. Sum. theol., I, q. 46, a. 1; Sum. contra gent., II, cc. 31-38;
De pot., q. 3, a. 17; De aetemitate mundi.
** Ibid., c. 9, n. 49.
*^ Ibid., n. 52. For this reason St. Thomas frequently insists that those who
interpret Aristotle's God as a mere physical mover or a mere final cause are in
complete error. For St. Thomas Aristotle's God is a causa essendi ipsi mundo, a
causa quantum ad suum esse, a factor caelestium carporum. " Ex hoc autem
apparet manifeste falsitas opinionis illorum, qui posuerunt Aristotelem sensisse,
quod Deus non sit causa substantiae caeli, sed solum motus eius." In VI Metaph.,
lect. 1, n. 1164. Also In VIII Phys., lect. 3, n. 6; In I De caelo, lect. 8, n. 14;
In II Metaph., lect. 2, n. 295.
186 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
celestial movers, then no learned man can doubt that all natural
motions of lower bodies are caused by the motion of celestial
bodies (q. 3) . Dionysius himself notes that the sun's rays
induce the generation of sensible bodies, generate life itself,
nurture, strengthen and perfect it. All of this is within the
power of angels.
For some reason St. Thomas omitted to answer the fourth
question directly. It asks whether it is infallibly demonstrated
according to anyone that angels are the movers of celestial
bodies. In two earlier replies to the lector of Venice, St. Thomas
answered this very question in clear terms:
The books of the philosophers abound with proofs for this, proofs,
which they consider demonstrations. It seems to me therefore that
it can be demonstrated that celestial bodies are moved by some
intellect, either by God immediately or by means of angels moving
them.®^
Consequently his reply to the fifth question comes as no sur-
prise. He categorically insists that if God does not move those
bodies immediately, then some other spiritual substance is
demonstrated as mover, either a celestial soul or a separated
angel. The fundamental reason for this assertion is stated
clearly: Quod autem corpora caelestia a sola natura sua move-
antur, sicut gravia et levia, est omnino impossibile.^^ In other
words, for St. Thomas it is absolutely impossible that circular
motion be explained by nature as an active (formal) principle
within celestial bodies. This view is directly opposed to the
position represented by Kilwardby.
Throughout all his writings St. Thomas insisted on the essen-
tial difference between rectilinear motion and rotational motion.
Rectilinear motions, such as those of heavy and light bodies,
arise spontaneously from within bodies, from nature as an
active (formal) principle. Nature in this sense is predeter-
mined to a certain end and to the means of attaining it. The
** St. Thomas, Resp. de art. XXXVI, a. 2; also Resp. de art. XXX, ad 4.
*' St. Thomas, Resp. ad Joan. Vercel., q. 5; cf. Sum. contra gent.. Ill, c. 23 per
totum.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 187
end, therefore, is already within the intentionality of nature as
form. Once nature has attained the end, it must rest in its
acquisition, since it is its good. Physically there is no need for
any " conjoined mover " to account for this motion downward
or upward. Nature itself spontaneously moves toward the end
which is its goal. " There is in heavy and light bodies a formal
principle of its motion, because, just as other accidents pro-
ceed from the substantial form, so does place and, consequently,
movement toward place; not however that the natural form is a
mover {motor) , but the mover is the generator which begot
such a form upon which this motion follows." "° Therefore
nature as an active principle is always ordained to rest in the
possession of some good proper to itself.
For St. Thomas the profound difference between celestial
and terrestrial phenomena lay in the motions. The heavens
move continuously in time, aiming at no rest or possession of
a goal. Whether the heavens are eternal or created in time is
not relevant to the question. Likewise it makes no difference
whether the celestial bodies in motion are real spheres or inde-
pendent planets; in either case the motion is always ordered
to further motion. Clearly these motions cannot be striving for
a rest as yet unattained, since such a rest would be disastrous
for the celestial body and no nature can desire its own destruc-
tion as a good. Nor can it be said that the purpose of such
motion is motion itself. Motion by its very nature is a tending,
a continual otherness; it has within its very nature a deformity
which is incapable of being the final cause of any natural agent.
" Therefore it is impossible that nature intend motion for the
sake of motion." "^ Now for St. Thomas, if there is no intrinsic
end attainable by a body in motion, then that motion cannot
have sprung spontaneously from nature as form. Like the
100 g(. Thomas, In II Phys., led. 1, n. 4. Also In I De caelo, lect. 18, n. 1;
II, lect. 2, n. 6; III, lect. 7, nn. 5-9; In II Phys., lect. 5, n. 5; IV, lect. 12, n. 9;
VIII, lect. 8, nn. 5-7; Sum. cont. gent.. Ill, cc. 82, 84; De pot., q. 5, a. 5.
^"^ " Impossible est igitur quod natura intendat motum propter seipsum." Sum.
cont. gent., Ill, c. 23, § 6. Also De pot., q. 5, a. 5: " impossible est quod aliqua
natura inclinet ad motum secundum se ipsum."
188 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
matter in generable substances, the celestial body must be
moved by another, by one in continual contact with it. Conse-
quently celestial bodies have " nature " only in the sense of a
passive (material) principle, which means the natural aptitude
to be moved by another. Hence "the motion of a celestial
body, as far as its active principle is concerned, is not natural,
but voluntary and intellectual; however, in relation to its pas-
sive principle, the motion is natural, for a celestial body has a
natural aptitude for such motion." ^°- In this matter, notes St.
Thomas, it makes no difference whether we conceive the celes-
tial bodies to be moved by intellectual substances conjoined
to the body after the manner of a soul or by one entirely dis-
tinct like an angel. Non auteTn esset via solvendi, si moverentur
-per solum naturae impetuTn, sicut corpora gravia et levia^°^
It is true that for St. Thomas celestial bodies can have only
a passive nature whether the mover be a conjoined soul as
Aristotle wished or a separated angel, as he himself believed.
Nevertheless in establishing the existence of God along Aris-
totle's lines, it does make a difference. St. Thomas, as St.
Albert before him, was well aware that the First Mover of the
Physics was for Aristotle identical with the First Being of
Metaphysics XII. That is to say, St. Thomas knew St. Albert's
interpretation to be correct. However, there is a serious diffi-
culty. If the celestial movers are not souls, but angels, as St.
Thomas himself held with the Sancti, then Aristotle's argument
is not conclusive. A soul conjoined to the sphere is necessarily
moved per accidens, that is, concomitantly with the sphere.
Since this kind of mover is insufficient to account for the pri-
mary source of physical motion, one can validly conclude to the
existence of an intelligence which is entirely separated from
matter. And if one erroneously limits the number of spiritual
substances to the number of celestial movements, then the sepa-
rated intelligence moving the first animated sphere (primum
caelum) must be God. On the other hand, if the immediate
^°'^ Sum. cont. gent., Ill, c. 23, § 8. Also In II Phys., lect. 1, n. 4; in II De caelo,
lect. 3, n. 2, and lect. 18, n. 1; De pot., q. 5, a. 5 ad 12.
^°'' St. Thomas In II De caelo, lect. 18, n. 1.
CELESTIAL MOVERS IN MEDIEVAL PHYSICS 189
mover of the celestial bodies is not a soul, then it is in no way
moved per accidens. This immediate mover could be God Him-
self or an angel. And if the number of angels is greater than
Aristotle conceded, then it is impossible to demonstrate that
God is the immediate mover of the heavens. This is precisely
the difficulty envisaged in St. Thomas' reply to the fifth ques-
tion: assuming that God is not the immediate mover, then it
is indeed demonstrated that an angel is the mover. This as-
sumption, however, cannot be made on philosophical, much
less on physical grounds. This is not to say that Aristotle failed
to prove the existence of God in Meta^physics XII. Quite the
contrary. St. Thomas was convinced that Aristotle perceived
that other mode of becoming yer influentiam essendi, whereby
every spiritual substance is necessarily dependent on the first
cause of being. It is this other mode of " being moved " that
St. Thomas sees in Aristotle's conception of the conjoined
mover of the first heaven."^ It is the totality of movers which
are in some true sense moved that validates the Aristotelian
argument for St. Thomas. " Hence, unless the celestial bodies
are moved immediately by God, they must either be animated
and moved by their proper souls or be moved by angels, quod
melius dicitur."
Concluding his reply to the fifth question, St. Thomas notes
that there are some philosophers who would have God move the
first heaven by means of its anima propria, and the other
heavens by means of intelligences and souls. St. Thomas'
own view is that God directs the universe through a hierarchy
of angels, only the lower of which directly move the celestial
bodies.
The view of St. Thomas is openly defended in the anonymous
Quaestio de viotoribus corporum caelestium, a work formerly
attributed to St. Thomas and still published among his works .^°'
"*For example, In XII Metaph., lect. 7, nn. 2519-2522; lect. 8, nn. 2539-2543;
In II De caelo, lect. 18, n. 6.
"^ Opera Omnia (Parma: Fiaccadori, 1869) , XXIV, pp. 217a-219b. This treatise
was first published by Thomas Boninsegnius, O. P., in his edition of the Summa
with Cajetan's commentary (Venice: apud Juntas) in 1588. The first folio an-
190 JAMES A. WEISHEIPL
Strangely, there is no known manuscript of this work extant,
but it seems to be of English origin, written, as Grabmann has
pointed out, some time after June 1271/°" In it the author
rejects at length the tradition represented by Robert Kilwardby
as well as the animation theory presented by Simplicius. The
author defends vigorously the Thomistic view that celestial
movers are two-fold: the passive nature of the celestial body
and the active power of angels ministering to the will of God.
The medieval views of celestial movers which we have out-
lined in this paper are rarely considered today. Yet they are
important for an understanding of St. Thomas, and they do
have serious implications which deserve the attention of modern
Thomists, implications of interest to theologians as well as to
philosophers of nature.
James A. Weisheipl, 0. P.
Alhertus Magnus Lyceum
Dominican Hou^e of Studies
River Forest, Illinois
nounced: " Quaestiones duae S. Thomae de Aquino nuper repertae ac in lucem
editae, una de principio individuationis, altera vero de motoribus coelestium cor-
porum, quae nuper repertae fuerunt Florentiae in bibliotheca S. Marci." This new
manuscript was copied for San Marco by order of Cosmo de Medici and notarized
on June 5, 1587; this document is published on fol. 2r of the edition. Boninsegnio
rests his argument for the authenticity of the treatise (fol. 2v S.) on the Thomistic
character of the doctrine and on the credibility of the manuscript, which also
contained St. Thomas' De potentia. The same scribe had written the two new
questions on folios 287-290 of the original manuscript, which is now lost.
"*M. Grabmann, Die Werke des hi. Thomas von Aquin. 3rd ed. (Miinster,
1949). Beitrdge z. Gesch. d. PhU. u. Theol. d. M.-A., Bd. XXU, heft 1-2, p. 415.
GRAVITATIONAL MOTION ACCORDING TO
THEODORIC OF FREIBERG
THE recent appearance of Marshall Clagett's The Science
of Mechanics in the Middle Ages ^ has focussed atten-
tion once again on the wealth of material made avail-
able by scholars in the " Dark Ages " for the development of
science as we now know it. Concentrating on " the mechanical
doctrines of the medieval period which were framed in mathe-
matical terms or had important consequences for a mathe-
matical mechanics," ^ Clagett reproduces most of the important
texts in this area and analyzes them for the conceptual content
that contributed to the revolutionary seventeenth-century
development. By intent he avoids the study of methodology,
nor does he attempt to evaluate the complex relationships
that existed between physics and natural philosophy during
this period. Yet even these areas have not been without their
share of attention in the recent literature. Three significant
studies of medieval scientific methodology have appeared in
succession,^ and Anneliese Maier has recently concluded the
fifth volume of her monumental Stiidieji zur Naturphilosophie
der Spdtscholastik * with some weighty observations on the
transitional philosophical concepts that gave rise to the new
* University of Wisconsin Press: Madison, 1959, xxix -\- 711 pp.
" Ibid., p. xxii.
'A. C. Crombie's Robert Grosseteste and the Origins of Experimental Science,
Oxford, 1953; my own The Scientific Methodology of Theodoric of Freiberg, Fri-
bourg, 1959; and J. A. Weisheipl's The Development of Physical Theory in the
Middle Ages, London, 1959.
* Zwischen Philosophic und Mechanik, Rome, 1958, particularly pp. 373-382. The
five volumes, which we shall henceforth refer to as Studien I, II . . . etc., are
entitled respectively: I. Die Vorldufer Galileis im 14.. Jahrhundert (1949); II. Zivei
Grundprobleme der scholastischen Naturphilosophie (1951); III. An der Grenze
von Scholastik und Naturunssenschaft (1952); IV. Metaphysische Hintergriinde
der spdtscholastischen Naturphilosophie (1955); and V. Zwischen Philosophic und
Mechanik (1958).
191
192 W. A. WALLACE
science. All of these works are fruitful sources of study for
the Thomistic philosopher of science who would evaluate
modern science in light of the traditional concepts of natural
philosophy. It is to be hoped that the time will not be long
before some penetrating studies in this area may help solve the
stubborn problems that have frustrated and divided adherents
to the philosophy of St. Thomas during the past several
decades.^
Meanwhile these works have also signalized the importance
of studying manuscript sources to fill the gaps in our knowledge
of medieval science. Clagett's work, by his own admission,
would have been quite impossible without the prior paleo-
graphical efforts of Maier and Moody. It is in a spirit similar
to that in which the latter research was undertaken that I
should like to offer this brief study of gravitational motion
according to Theodoric of Freiberg (c. 1250-c. 1310) . Theo-
doric's contributions to medieval optics and scientific method-
ology are sufficiently well known not to require further
attention, but by some peculiar oversight the views of the
German Dominican on the problem of gravitation have gen-
erally not been recorded.® I shall attempt to fill this lacuna by
a resume of the unedited opusculum De elementis corporum
naturaliuTn ijiquantum sunt partes mundi,'' which contains
^ I have in mind the long-standing debate over a so-called " specific distinction "
maintained by some to exist between Thomistic natural philosophy and modern
science, which has impeded the study of a host of philosophical problems concerning
the nature of matter, gravity, mass, energy, light, the elements, etc., all arising in
modern science.
* The literature on Theodoric is given in my Scientific Methodology of Theodoric
of Freiberg (Studia Friburgensia, No. 26) , The University Press, Fribourg: Switzer-
land, 1959. Miss Maier mentions him in several footnotes throughout her volumes,
but otherwise has only a brief treatment of his doctrine on the elements in Studien
III, pp. 58-69, without considering the relation of the latter to falling motion.
' This opusculum was probably written about the year 1300. Two complete manu-
script versions are known: Cod. Maihingen (Fiirstliche Bibl. Schloss Harburg, II,
1 qu. 6), henceforth referred to as M, and Cod. Vat. Lat. 2183, henceforth referred
to as U. In addition, some fragments of the opusculum are to be foimd in Cod. Vat.
Lat. 1121, henceforth referred to as T. When a reading of the Latin text is given
below, it is generally a composite text based on all available manuscripts, as indi-
GRAVITATIONAL MOTION 193
Theodoric's complete doctrine on this subject. It is not my
intention to enter into a detailed analysis of the doctrine
presented, but rather to sketch the essential content of The-
odoric's teaching, supporting this by substantial citation from
the manuscript versions of the opusculum. In thus utilizing
the space alloted to me, I also forego the opportunity to point
out possible relationships between Theodoric's doctrine and
more recent thought on gravitation. I trust, however, that
the material presented will have some bearing on further
analyses of the causes of gravitational motion that may be
forthcoming from Thomistic philosophers.
Gravity and the Elements
The elements, for Theodoric, are material components of
natural bodies, " principles according to the formality of
matter," or, more explicitly, " whence a thing is materially
composed." ^ As such, they can be studied by the meta-
physician, who is interested in them " from the viewpoint of
their substance, how they pertain to the genus of being pre-
cisely as being," or they can be studied by the natural phi-
losopher " insofar as they are natural bodies and accordingly
related to motion and change." ^ The latter consideration again
permits of a twofold division, for the natural philosopher may
investigate them in a way similar to that of the modem
physicist, insofar as they are " the first parts of the universe,"
or in a way similar to that of the modern chemist, insofar as
they contain a " principle of transformation by which one
element can be simply generated from another, or compounds
formed from elements." " Gravity is of primary interest to the
physicist, thus characterized, as Theodoric explains in the
following passage:
cated with the foliation. I have already furnished a critical Latin edition of the
prologue and first eight chapters of this opusculum in my Scientific Methodology,
pp. 324-331.
® Prologue, (ed. Wallace) pp. 324-325.
* Cap. 7, p. 329.
" Ibid.
194 W. A. WALLACE
Certain accidents or qualities are in elements as they are parts of
the universe, namely, gravity and levity, and, deriving from these,
natural motions either to or from its center. . . , Through such
motions bodies arc disposed in their proper places in the material
universe, considering the latter quantitatively in its extensive and
dimensional integrity as well as in its specific diversity. Such acci-
dents are in elements as parts of the universe, making up the uni-
verse precisely as actual, for actual parts are those which have a
species. Thus it is that gravity and levity are first found in
[elemental] bodies complete according to species, and that they are
their very first accidents as parts of the universe. . . . Wherefore,
if there be any bodies or natures simpler than these, of which the
forementioned elements might in turn be composed, light and
heavy would not be proper to such bodies or natures, nor would
these be parts of the universe specifically and quantitatively, except
possibly in an originative way.^^
Gravity, then, is one of the first qualities of bodies considered
in relation to other bodies making up the universe, and is
properly attributable to the elemental constituents of such
bodies, themselves specifically complete, as the ultimate source
of their natural or gravitational motions. This suggests for
Theodoric some observations as to whether gravity is an abso-
lute quality, or merely relative, and whether it is subject to
intensification or not. Surprisingly enough, such questions were
not commonly discussed at the turn of the fourteenth century;
Ciagett has pointed out that the first evidence of the concept
" specific weight " is only to be found in the pseudo-Archi-
medean treatise De insidentibus in humidum, itself dating from
the thirteenth.^- There is no direct use by Theodoric of the
quantitative notions found in De insidentibus, but he does
speak of an " intensity " of gravity, as is clear from the
folio win 2: citation:
*&
There is a twofold modality of heavy and light. One is according to
absolute quality, w^hose formality consists in this, that heavy and
light are principles of a determinate tendency to some place in the
universe. Under this formality heavy and light are distinguished in
bodies in the following way, viz., some are heavy and light simply,
" Ibid., pp. 329-330. " Op. dt., pp. 93-95, 674.
GRAVITATIONAL MOTION 195
as fire and earth, which go to the extremities of straight-line motion;
others are such comparatively, in the sense that they are heavy or
light with reference to various boundaries, as air and water. But
there is another modality of heavy and light which is noticed in
the intensity of these qualities, whereby it happens that in the case
of two bodies, even such as tend to the same terminus, one will be
heavier or lighter than the other, in the sense that one will have
more weight than the other. And this can result from one of two
causes, viz., because of the aggregation of more parts of the same
body, as a larger portion of earth has more weight than a small
piece; or from the complexion and nature of the body itself, as lead
or gold is heavier and has more weight than earth or stone of an
equal size.^^
Thus there is in Theodoric's thought a recognition of specific
weights, although he gives no mathematical treatment of them,
and in fact is not interested in their effect on gravitational
motion. His position is rather that the first modality men-
tioned above, " according to absolute quality," is proper to
bodies as they are parts of the universe, and this alone deter-
mines the proper place or region to which a body tends,
whether it be element or compound. If it is a compound, it will
tend to a region determined by what is " predominant " in it,
not by " proportional parts, even an exceeding one." What
he means by this " predominant " is not too clear: he describes
it as being " according to the property and nature of the com-
plexion in which the species of the body is rooted, which itself
is one and simple." Yet the practical consequence of his view
is easily discerned, for he holds that " fiery bodies," i. e.,
" shooting stars and comets," tend to the proper place of fire,
while " earthy bodies " such as " minerals and stones " tend
to the place of earth." This is clearly in accord with Aristotle's
doctrine in De caelo et mundo ^^ and itself adds little to the
latter's development. Had Theodoric been discussing the
" Cap. 8, p. 330.
^^ Ibid., p. 331. For the medieval understanding of the expression, "comets tend
to the place of fire," see Lynn Thorndike's Latin Treatises on Comets Between 1238
and 1S6S A.D., Chicago, 1950, passim.
^^ Book IV, chap. 4, 311a30-b3.
196 W. A. WALLACE
velocities of fall of such bodies, and not the places to which
they tend, his elimination of specific weights as of incidental
importance would have shown rare insight for his time. But
there is no mention of velocities in this opusculum, and this
discovery had still to await the researches of Galileo.
It is by pursuing such a line of thought, however, that
Theodoric comes to some interesting questions about composite
motions and how these can be resolved into component parts,
for which he proposes noteworthy answers. He maintains, in
accordance with the teaching just proposed, that there are no
" intermediary places . . . beyond the four places of the four
primary bodies," although allowing that a particular compound
might have a proper place to which it tends in " some one of
these first regions," determined by its " relation to some part
of the heavens or the horizon." ^^ Against this position he notes
the objection, already in Aristotle, that simple bodies ought
to have simple motions and composite bodies composite mo-
tions. He replies to this by making precise the sense in which a
motion is " composite " — not because its terminus is composite,
but rather because " the manner in which it tends to that
terminus is composite." This manner of tending, he points out,
need not be composite, for we find that both simple and com-
posite bodies undergo simple motions " according to the nature
of the predominant." In fact, he notes, such simple motions
are what manifest the natures of the simple bodies or elements,
and it matters little whether the body undergoing motion be
simple or composite when the motion itself is simple and mani-
fests the simple nature that is its principle .^^
Yet it is a fact that some composite bodies have simple
natural motions, while others have composite natural motions —
^* Cap. 10, M 14vb, U 141vb: Non est eciam aliquis locus medius, vel ut ita
dicam mixtus, preter hec quatuor loca quatuor corporum primorum. Unde neces-
sarium est omne corpus recti motus ferri ad aliquem istorum quatuor secundum
predominans, et si fuerit aliquis locus proprius aJicui mixto secundum habitudinem
ad aliquam partem celi vel orizontis, hie erit pars alicuius istorum primorum locorum
et presupposita natura ipsius.
"Cap. 11, M 15ra, U 142ra.
GRAVITATIONAL MOTION 197
and this even when living things are excluded and one treats
only of objects that move precisely as light or heavy. This
leads Theodoric to a significant question: " Why do certain
composite bodies move naturally with a simple motion, and
certain others with a composite motion? " ^^ The answer he
proposes, while hardly consonant with modern scientific thought
on the subjects he treats, provides an insight into the way in
which the medievals explained such divergent motions as those
of currents, magnets, tides, and heavenly bodies, and may be
suggestive of analogous approaches available to the natural
philosopher of the twentieth century for evaluating modem
theories dealing with these same topics.
Composite Motions
In summary form, the general answer that Theodoric gives
to this question, which he then goes on to elaborate through
twelve chapters of the opusculum, is contained in the following
statement:
It should be noted that there are many differences among bodies
that are moved by nature either with composite or simple motions.
Some are moved as parts of wholes, without being separate from
such wholes. Others are moved somewhat as wholes themselves,
and this in a twofold way, for some are moved by an intrinsic
natural principle, while others are moved by an extrinsic principle,
as will become apparent when we consider them singly .^^
To illustrate the meaning of this observation, we may note that
for Theodoric the natural motions of fluids, such as those com-
prising the atmosphere and the hydrosphere, are generally
composite motions. Some of these are composite in the sense
that they are motions of the parts of a fluid medium; the
movement of such a part he resolves into two interacting
"Cap. 12, M 15ra, U 142ra-b.
■^' Ibid.: Est sciendum quod corporum que moventur motu composite seu simplici
per naturam multiplex est differencia. Quedam enim moventur ut partes in toto,
non tamen separate a toto, quedam autem ut tota quedam, et hoc dupliclter, quia
quedam moventur ab intrinseco principio naturali, quedam ab extrinseco, ut de
singulis patebit.
198 W. A. WALLACE
components, one impressed on it by adjoining parts, another
arising intrinsically within the part itself. Other composite
motions are those of clouds, vapors and winds, when these are
considered as integi-al wholes apart from any internal move-
ments that might characterize their parts; such motions he
analyzes as deriving partly from the intrinsic elements of which
such wholes are composed, and partly from the forces that
generate them, which he sees as endowing them with added
dispositions to fulfill special purposes intended by nature. Still
other motions, such as those of rivers and whirlwinds, are com-
posite because of the reaction of the fluid with its boundaries
or because of the interaction that results when two natural
motions converge from different directions. In practically all
of these cases, as we shall see, the natural motion which is
attributed by Theodoric to the elemental constituents of the
fluid is a simple, straight-line motion towards the center of
gravity, while the component that makes the total motion
composite derives from an outside source and does not come
directly from the fluid's intrinsic components.
The case of the complex movement of parts of a fluid medium
is not particularly noteworthy, except for the fact that Theo-
doric there uses notions associated with Averroes' solution to
the projectile problem,-" which may be indicative of his own
ideas concerning impetus. Theodoric does not commit himself
to any particular theory of impetus — in fact he explicitly
refrains from discussing this matter " — but he does speak of
the influence of the parts of a fluid on each other by which they
continue to be in motion after the source of their initial dis-
turbance has ceased." Since the cases of fluid and projectile
^°Cf. Commentarium in VIII Physicorum (ed. Venetiis, 1550), Tom. IV, 195va-
196ra.
"For the Latin text, see Maier, Studien V, p. 290, fn. 1.
Cap. 13, M 15rb, U 142rb: Tale enim corpus, cum receperit motum in aliqua
suarum parcium, huiusmodi pars movet aliam vel alias, et sic deinceps, quod absque
aliquali subinteraccione parcium ad partes fieri non potest, propter talium corporum
spiritualitatem, ut dicit Commentator super octavum Physicorum. Partes autem sic
mote et propulse, alias secum trahunt propter continuitatem. Cum autem per
talem niocionem partes sursum vel alias extra locum suum actu fuerint, quasi per
GRAVITATIONAL MOTION 199
motion are quite dissimilar, at least in the sense that the first
is that of a continuous medium in direct contact with its dis-
turbing force, while the second is that of an object obviously
separated from its mover, one should not make too much of
this argument, but there does seem to be a suggestion here
of some motive power being communicated to parts of the
fluid and thus accounting for its continued motion.
In discussing the motions of fluids considered as wholes, such
as winds, clouds, mists, rain, etc., Theodoric develops this
notion further. He considers these as " incomplete entities not
yet separated from their generator," and maintains that they
have some motive principle, apart from the intrinsic gravi-
tational principle associated with their elemental constituents,
by which they fulfill a particular end intended by nature.-^
The gravitational principle, he notes, is analogous to the intrin-
sic principle that might be induced into a body by the action
of an altering agent, and here he gives the interesting example
of a magnet's action on iron, which he observes causes the
iron " to tend towards it in a straight line wherever it might
be, whether through air, water, or a metallic container
" 24
violentam alterius partis impulsionem vel aUractionem, motu suo natural! redeunt
rursum ad locum suum proprium et ipse tales partes et impellentes. Et sic per talem
impulsionem, tractionem parclum, subinteraccionem, fit quedam inundacio talis
corporis humidi in suis partibus. Quo fit eciam ut non statim cesset huiusmodi
motus ad cessacionem primi moventis primam partem, quia sicut dictum est huius-
modi motus componitur ex naturali et violento, qui ex disposicione sibi, ex mutua
disposicione seu alteracione vel influencia indita, sepius super seinvicem replicantur,
cum in huiusmodi naturalis motus sequatur violentum, et violentus causetur a
naturali.
"■" Cap. 15, M 15rb, U 142rb.
-* Cap. 16, M 15va, U 142va-b: Et huiusmodi motus per naturam non solum
competit rebus que moventur ad aliquem naturalium locorum mundi secundum
determinatam habitudinem ad centrum et circumferenciam mundi, et hoc secundum
aliquod principium inexistens per mocionem generantis, sed ' eciam sic moventur
secundum naturam principii inexistentis per approximacionem alicuius corporis
alterantis seu aliquo modo afficientis ea. Cuiusmodi est motus ferri ad magnetem,
quod non impeditum, secundum lineam rectam tendit ad ipsum ubicumque fuerit,
sive per aerem, sive per aquam, sive per vasa metallina, ut patet ad sensum. Sic
patet de quibusdam compositis qua racione moventur per naturam motu recto, quia
scilicet moventur per principium intrinsecum.
200 W. A. WALLACE
Unfortunately he does not discuss the character of the extrinsic
principle in this context. However, when attempting later to
account for the fact that mists arise naturally from ponds and
move in determined directions, he explains that the generating
agent " continually induces some natural disposition into such
bodies," which is not gravity but " which presupposes and
requires this qualitative principle," and is similarly related to
a determinate place.^^ Such an added disposition, he observes,
is the means by which "universal nature " provides for the
needs of the various parts of the universe, as for example by
moving rain clouds to particular areas where water is needed.^^
The added disposition he also calls a " generative principle,"
and notes that its action is not a violent one, even though
attraction and propulsion characterize its operation. He would
prefer to speak of the propulsion as arising from " whatever
induces the form or disposition which is the principle of the
motion," and to understand the attraction as being merely
in the order of final causality.-^
Thus Theodoric analyzes certain composite motions found
^^ Cap. 17, M 15va, U 142vb: Sed si sunt alia aliqua corpora huius inferioris
mundi que moveantur per naturam motu tortuoso vel composito vel circulari,
huiusniodi eciam movebuntur ab exteriori principio, et hoc sive a generante, inquan-
tum videlicet talibus corporibus continue influit aliquam disposicionem naturalem
qua acquiratur eis continue locus post locum, non semper secundum habitudinem
recte distancie que attenditur inter centrum et circumferenciam secimdum lineam
rectam. Talis enim motus principium est generans, secundum quod ingenerat
corporibus has simplices et absolutas qualitates que sunt gravitas et levitas. Pre-
diotis autem corporibus aliquando acquiritur locus continue secundum habitudinem
ad aliquam partem orizontis, ut si surgat aliquis vapor in parte australi et per
naturam tendat versus septentrionem. Hoc autem fit secundum aliquam aliam
disposicionem huiusmodi corporibus inditam, que nee est gravitas neque levitas.
Presupponit tamen et preexigit hoc qualitativum principium, sic inditum per
naturam, gravitatem et levitatem in corpore in quo est, sicut et locus in quo vel
ad quem moventur huiusmodi corpora est pars alicuius locorum gravium et levium.
^"Cap. 18, M 15va, U 142vb-143ra.
^ Cap. 19, M 15va, U 143ra: Huic motui corporum que moventur per principium
generativum commune assimilatur motus et nutrimenti per corpus. . . . Intelligenda
est pulsio et tractio modo predicto proporcionaliter, sicut in predictis corporibus
partibus mundi, ut scilicet dicatur pellens eo quod dat formam vel disposicionem
que est principium motus, trahens autem intelligatur secundum racionem et inten-
cionem finis. . . .
GRAVITATIONAL MOTION 201
in nature and attributes their composite aspect to two com-
ponent principles, one being the gravity or levity of the
predominant elements of which the bodies are composed,
accounting for the straight-line component of their motion to
or from some center of gravity, the other being a natural form
added to the gravitational principle by a generating force, and
accounting for the non-linear component of their motion. This
suggestion is pregnant with consequences if it could be under-
stood as applying to the case of the heavenly bodies, and the
question naturally arises if Theodoric, writing at the latest
in the first decade of the fourteenth century, could have
anticipated this seventeenth-century development of celestial
mechanics.
The answer is to be found in another unedited opusculum of
Theodoric entitled De intelligenciis et motor ibus celorum.^^
Here he introduces the notion of composite motions once again,
and precisely in the context where one might expect him to do
so, namely, in connection with the astronomical theories of
eccentrics and epicycles. Theodoric specifically rejects Aver-
roes' adherence to the literal text of Aristotle, maintaining that
Aristotle need not be understood as meaning that heavenly
bodies must revolve in circular orbits exactly concentric with
the midpoint of the universe, as Averroes interprets him, and
suggesting that " perhaps he [Aristotle] wished ' center ' to be
understood more generally, for the natural center of any natural
circle whatsoever," as opposed to the center of the world. "^
His reason for urging a different interpretation of the Aris-
totelian text is based on " the efficacy of the demonstrations "
in Ptolemy's Ahnagest; here, as in other places, Theodoric is
more convinced by the observational evidence " of the astrol-
ogers " than he is by the authority of Aristotle.^" Granting the
^® This opusculum was probably written in the first decade of the fourteenth
century. There are two manuscript copies extant: Cod. Vat. Lat. 2183, henceforth
referred to as U; and Cod. Vindobon. (Dominikanerkloster) 138/108. Where
readings of the Latin text are given below, they are based on U.
"* Cap. 11, U o8va: Fortassis generalius voluit intelligi medium, videlicet, quod-
cumque medium naturale cuiuscumque circuli naturalis. . . .
^° Capp. 11 et 14; De elementis, cap. 9 — cf. Scientific Methodology, p. 126.
202 W. A. WALLACE
mathematical explanation of eccentrics and epicycles, however,
he is still at a loss for a physical explanation as to why this
peculiar motion of the heavenly bodies occurs, and in seeking
such an explanation has recourse to his concept of " composite
motion."
In this treatment, as in De elementis, there is again a lack
of quantitative analysis. Theodoric's argument is in fact very
brief, and merely suggestive of an analogy that might obtain
between straight-line motions and circular ones when both are
considered as natural motions. He first notes that there is a
certain relativity to be found in linear gravitational motions,
when the principles of such motions are considered precisely as
related to the surrounding environment.^^ If extrinsic factors
introduce a type of composition into motions that should be
simple when explained in terms of their intrinsic principles
alone, he sees no reason why a similar type of composition
might not also be found in circular motions:
If this is the case in such straight-line motions, as has been said,
it is not extraordinary or incomprehensible to interpret the Phi-
losopher's [Aristotle's] treatment of circular motion, when he speaks
of it as rotating about a center, as not to mean the exact center of
the universe, but the natural center of any natural circle in which
there is something having the nature of a terminus, as for example
the mid-point of the revolution, insofar as a revolution includes in
its very notion movement to a point and away from a point, both
being vmderstood with reference to the center of the circle. ... If
therefore different relations to various termini can introduce com-
position into straight-line motions, so also different centers can
'^ Cap. 16, U 59ra-b: Quia in talibus transformacionibus que sunt recti motus
attenditur fercio aliquis terminus — nichil enini tali motu incipit moveri secundum
naturam quod non potest perveiiire ad terminum secundum naturam intentum —
hinc est quod in talibus motis secundum diversitatem talium terminorum invenitur
nonnulla distraccio et aliquis recessus a pura et omnimoda simplicitate, ne talia
corpora, quamvis habeantur per simplicibus, ad eosdem terminos vel secundum
eosdem moveantur. Videmus enim alium esse terminum ad quem naturaliter
movetur ignis in regione sua, quia ad superficiem infimam spere lune, alium autem
terminum perpendimus ad quem movetur aer in spera sua, qui si esset in spera
ignis ab ea recedet naturaliter. Et ita videmus diversitatem terminorum in aqua
et in terra quoad proprias secundum naturam regiones eorum.
GRAVITATIONAL MOTION 203
introduce plurality and composition into circular motions, and
these too can be composed of many circular motions, of which each
is itself simple and one.^-
The composition which Theodoric here attempts to explain
in terms of physical or natural causes is thus not the com-
position that would result from a straight-line gravitational
tendency to a center to which had been added a principle of
tangential motion, as this was to be proposed by Newton in
the seventeenth century, but rather a composition of rotary
motions consistent with the geometrical picture of the universe
already sketched by Ptolemy. What is interesting about Theo-
doric's view, however, is his willingness to account for the
deviations from perfect circularity detected by astronomers of
his time in planetary, lunar and solar motions, by allowing for
the possibility of different centers of gravity within the uni-
verse, and this while viewing these centers not merely mathe-
matically, but also as terms of proper natural motions from
intrinsic principles. This represents a very definite break with
the Averroist- Aristotelian tradition, and at the same time pro-
vides the basis for accomodating Aristotelian thought to a
plurality of gravitational centers, in the sense of universal
gravitation as it was ultimately to be understood by Newton.
Another interesting development of Theodoric's thought
regarding composite motions is his attempt to explain the
complex motion of the tides in terms of natural principles. This
^^ Cap. 17, U 59rb-va: Si inquam sic se habet in istis motibus rectis, ut dictum
est, quid mirabile vel inconveniens si sic vult intelligi Philosophus illud quod tractat
de motu circulari, dicens ipsum fieri circa medium, non sumendo medium omnino
pro centro universi, sed pro quocumque naturali medio cuiuscumque circuli naturalis
in quo invenitur eciam aliquis habens naturam termini, puta medium centrum
circa quod volvitur, que circumvolucio includit in se et importat naturam motus
ad terminum et a termino, quod utrumque intelligitur in respectum ad centrum
talis circuli. Moveri enim circa centrum est moveri quodammodo ab ipso et ad
ipsum; unde habet naturam et racionem termini motus. Si igitur habitudo diversa
ad diversos terminos motus rectos, ut visum est, sic eciam quoad motum circularem
secundum diversa media centralia, quorum quodlibet habet naturam et racionem
termini, potest plurificari et componi motus, ut sit motus compositus ex pluribus
circularibus motibus quorum quilibet in se simplex et unus est. . . .
204 W. A. WALLACE
he undertakes to do in the opusculum De elementis, where he
works out an explanation that is rather ingenious, even though
quite implausible from the viewpoint of modern science. The
motion of the tides, for Theodoric, is yet another case where
" universal nature " provides for the needs of the universe by
a composite motion, and this by inducing a motive principle
that comes " effectively " from the heavenly bodies (particu-
larly the moon) , and " passively " from sea water as being
naturally adapted to receive this influx/^ The mode of trans-
mission of the force deriving from the heavenly bodies is based
on an interpretation of Proclus,^* whereby Theodoric conceives
of some generic influence, originating with the separated sub-
stances, as being more and more determined and composed as
it works down through the heavenly spheres, finally receiving
its ultimate determination from the moon.^^ Theodoric does
not regard this influence as an attraction which exerts a pull
on the sea, but rather conceives it as somehow effecting an
alteration within the sea water, which makes it expand and
thus extend its boundaries on land, thereby accounting for the
rise (and fall) of the tides.
Interestingly enough, Theodoric proposes a mechanistic type
of explanation for this motion which is not without empirical
foundation. As far as he can discern, tidal motions are
restricted to bodies of sea water, and are not found in fresh
water.^" Thus he proposes that sea water can be regarded as
^^ Cap. 22, M 15vb, U 143ra-b.
^* Cap. 23, M 16ra, U 143rb-va: Sicut dicit Proclus, 135 proposicione et 136
proposicione, dicit quod omnes illarum substanciarum separatarum potencie de-
sursum inchoantes, et per proprias medietates procedentes usque ad extrema,
perveniunt et ad loca circa terrain. . . . Sicut dicit Proclus 54 proposicione, sic:
omne quod a secundis producitur, et a prioribus et a causalibus producitur eminen-
cius. — The references are to the Elementatio theologica. Cf. Proclus, The Elements
of Theology, A Revised Text with Translation, Introduction and Commentary, by
E. R. Dodds (Oxford: Univ. Press, 1933), Props. 135-6, pp. 120-121, and Prop. 56
(cited as Prop. 54 by Theodoric), pp. 54-55.
*^ Cap. 23, M 16ra, U 143rb.
^* Cap. 24, M 16va, U 144ra: Sufficiant ilia que dicta sunt nonnulla racione, cui
racioni concordat hoc quod videmus in aquis dulcibus, sive sint fluentes sive sint
stagna, scilicet, quod non videmus ibi notabiliter eas vaporare et moveri extra
GRAVITATIONAL MOTION 205
a mixture of salt and fresh water, which is not strictly a new
chemical compound, and whose components can therefore be
separated " by the application of some force." ^' He conceives
the action of the moon as being such a force, which effectively
is able to " vaporize " the fresh (or " sweet ") component of
sea water, thereby causing the whole body of the sea to
expand and overflow its banks " as the moon approaches the
meridian." ^^ Thus there are two natural causes of this com-
consuetum modum suum, quia non est facilis separacio parcium talium aquarum,
sicut dictum est de aquis que sunt in mari.
^' Ibid., M 16rb, U 143vb: Quando humida aliqua adinvicem confunduntur, et
fuerint substancie diversarum naturarum, et fuerit unum eorum subtilius altero et
passibilius et facilius obediens agenti, faciliter abinvicem separantur, maxima si
fuerint valde distantis nature, vel si fuerit unum eorum in alio sic virtute, ut possit
ex eo faciliter generari. Et sic se habent aqua et vinum, que ex hoc aliqua arte
separantur. Sicut autem dictum est de aqua et vino, sic se habet et in aliis talibus,
puta in aqua salsa et dulci. Dico autem aquam salsam cuius substancia est sal,
ut putei salis. Et talis est aqua maris in sui substancia, et propter hoc coquitur
sal ex eo. Constat autem quod substancia dulcis aque et aqua maris sunt valde
diverse, et distantis nature in subtilitate et grossitudine multum differentes. Et
propter hoc, permixta, possunt aliqua vi abinvicem separari. Manifestum est autem
quod dulces aque pluvium permiscentur mari; omnia enim flumina intrant in mare,
et multi et maximi imbres et pluvie cadunt in ipsum. Si ergo sicut experimento
probatur, ars aliqua potest separare vinum ab aqua vel aliquid huiusmodi simile
facere, multo forcius natura potuit facere et fecit, determinans ad simile faciendum
unum naturale instrumentum, confluentibus ad hoc, ut premissum est, aliis causis
superioribus. ' Confluentibus ' inquam, quasi in unam virtutem et naturalem
potenciam faciendi hoc, cuius effectus apparet in motu sohus lune. — ^For Theodoric's
teaching that this kind of mixture does not make a strict (chemical) compound,
see De miscibilibus in mixto, cap. 9 (ed. Wallace, Scioitific Methodology), p. 339.
^^ Ibid.., M 16rb-va, U 143vb-144ra: Fit per istum modum, videlicet, quod parti-
bus dulcis aque sparsis per mare, luna, immo totum celum quasi mediante luna
tamquam per maxime determinatam causam secundum predicta, facit sua virtute
dictas dulcis aque partes vaporare, secundum Tholomeum, ex supra inducta auc-
toritate, et resolvi in fumum humide substancie. Hie enim accipiatur hoc modo
esse vapor, videlicet, fumus humide substancie, quem oportet extendi quantitative
intra corpus maris ad omnem dyametrum, et sic incomparabiliter ultra corpus ex
quo vaporat quantitative, id est dimensionaliter, ingrossari. Luna autem appro-
pinquante ad meridiauum, in quo magis viget natura et virtus operacionis sue,
huiusmodi partes dulcis aque vaporant, et sua vaporacione extendunt substanciam
maris cui permixte sunt, et mare sic extensum fluit quasi extra sinum suum et versus
vacuitatem litoris. Et recendente luna a meridiano circulo a loco ad quem fluxerat,
mare refluit, et mare sequitur lunam recedentem et euntem versus litus continuum.
' Sequitm- ' inquam, non secundam eamdem partem sui qua iam fluxerat, sed
206 W. A. WALLACE
posite motion, one being the moon as efficient cause, the other
being the passive nature of sea water, which is capable of
receiving the moon's influence because of its peculiar material
composition.
Extrinsic Movers
Having thus accounted for several composite natural motions,
Theodoric turns to a question which was much agitated by
medieval scientists, and whose resolution gTadually prepared
the way for the new mechanics that was to arise with Galileo
and Newton. This was the problem of identifying the extrinsic
mover that is responsible for falling motion, i. e., gravitational
movement to a center. Theodoric has referred previously to a
" generative principle " as accounting for the composite charac-
ter of some natural motions; this resembles the traditional
Aristotelian doctrine that the generator is the per se cause of
simple natural motions, and thus the question arises whether
Theodoric also regards the generator as being the effective
principle that moves a body falling in straight-line gravitational
motion. Theodoric's answer to this question is negative. While
developed in the context of Aristotle's natural philosophy, his
solution is again representative of a transitional type of rea-
soning that in some ways anticipates the development of
sixteenth-century mechanics, and on this account, at least, is
worthy of note.^^
Theodoric's line of argumentation is directed principally
against those who interpret Aristotle to mean that gravitating
bodies are moved by the generator in the sense that they have
their form and species from the generator, and just as they
have these, so " they have all the natural accidents which
follow from the species, one of which is natural motion with
respect to place." *° Such was not an uncommon interpretation
secundum aliam sui partem que in loco continuo ad presenciam lune vaporat et
extenditur et fluit, sicut dictum est. . . .
^^ See Maier, " Das Problem der Gravitation," Studien III, pp. 143-254.
*°Cap. 28, M 16vb-17ra, T I84r, U 144va: Dicunt autem quidam quod gravia et
levia et universal iter ea que moventur localiter per naturam in hoc inferiori mundo
GRAVITATIONAL MOTION 207
of Aristotle in Theodoric's time, being in fact proposed by
various of his contemporaries, including Siger of Brabant,
Godfrey of Fontaines, John Peter Olivi and Duns Scotus.*^
But our German Dominican does not regard this explanation
as consistent with the remainder of Aristotelian doctrine, and
gives seven arguments why it should be rejected.
The first is drawn from the processive motion of animals, to
which Theodoric would apply a similar analysis to the one
here invoked for the local motion of heavy objects, insofar as
it too derives from a natural form. This would result in an
animal's locomotion being caused by its generator (i. e., its
parent) , which Theodoric calls " absurd." *^ The second argu-
ment is drawn from a similar application to the heavenly bodies:
Theodoric merely points out that all metaphysicians agree that
the latter are moved by another, but no one claims that they
are moved by their generator .^^ His third argument is for those
who are dissatisfied with the argument from animal locomotion,
and is concerned with the motion of the heart and arteries:
these are clearly vital motions, and as such must come from
within — therefore they cannot proceed from the generator.^*
Should one reply to these arguments, moreover, that they
concern living things whose motions proceed from an active
intrinsic principle, while falling bodies (as such) are non-living
and only have a passive principle of motion within them,
Theodoric will concede the objection. But then his fourth argu-
moventur a generante, eo quod habent formam que est principium motus a gene-
rante, a quo sicut habent huiusmodi formam et speciem, sic habent omnia naturalia
accidencia que consequuntur speciem, quorum unum est naturahs motus secundum
locum. . . .
*^ For details, see Maier, Studien III, pp. 158-164. This was also the teaching
of St. Thomas Aquinas (In II Phys., lect. 1, n. 4; In III De caelo, lect. 7, nn. 8-9;
In V Metaph., lect. 14, n. 955) , but there are subtleties in Thomas' exposition that
have been commonly overlooked by historians. For a clear presentation of the
original Thomistic doctrine and its relation to Arab and late scholastic thought,
see James A. Weisheipl, O. P., Nature and Gravitation, (River Forest, 1955) , pp.
19-32.
" Cap. 29, M 17ra, T 184r, U 144vb.
" Cap. 30, M 17ra, T 184r, U 144vb.
" Cap. 31, M 17ra, T 184r, U 144vb-145ra.
208 W. A. WALLACE
merit is based on the very passivity of gravitating bodies. By
the terms of the objection, every passion must be accompanied
by a simultaneous action, and thus, if the generator is the
moving agent, it must actually accompany falling bodies " with
a continual influx of motion," and this " we do not see." *'
A fifth argument he draws from mathematics. A generator
causes a triangle, and thus according to the explanation under
discussion, causes all the natural accidents which flow from its
quiddity, including that its angles equal two right angles; but
it is " absurd " to say that the triangle in itself does not have
this property, and gets it continually from the generator.*^
The sixth argument depends on the supposition that fire, or
any other element, might be eternal, and on this supposition
would not have a generator. Theodoric maintains that nat-
urally " it still would be moved up," without the action of the
non-existent generator.*^ His seventh argument, finally, he
draws from the nature of motion itself, which is an imperfect
act and as such requires an " actual mover producing the influx
of motion." Therefore, if the generator is the mover, " it must
actually coexist with and touch the object in motion, which is
contrary to what is apparent to the senses," *^
Having thus disposed of a prevalent interpretation of Aris-
totle, Theodoric turns to his own explanation of what the
Stagyrite means when he says that falling bodies " are moved
by the generator as by their principal and essential mover,
and by whatever removes an impediment as by their accidental
mover." The interpretation he proposes is based on distinctions
between substantial and accidental being already developed in
opuscula other than those now under examination. This doc-
trine is exposed elsewhere; ^^ here I merely report the distinc-
tions among accidents that are enumerated in De elementis
as relevant to the problem of gravitation.
*^ Cap. 32, M 17rb, T 184v, U 145ra-b.
"Cap. 33, M 17rb, T 184v, U 145rb.
^' Cap. 34, M 17rb-va, T 184v, U 145rb.
" Cap. 35, M 17va, T 184v, U 145rb.
^''See my Scientific Methodology, pp. 26-32, 80-91, 152-161.
GRAVITATIONAL MOTION 209
There are some accidents, notes Theodoric, which are purely-
accidental in the sense that they have no per se order to any
causal principle found in the subject by reason of its species,
nor to the per se cause of the subject (i. e., its generator) , but
can be present or not without affecting the nature of the
subject. For example, heat or cold in a stone are purely
accidental in this way.^° Other accidents are naturally in the
subject according to its species, either always or for a certain
time, and have a per se order to some causal principle in the
subject. This group of accidents is further divisible into two
types. Some are naturally produced by the subject itself, and
are found only in things which have a natural diversity of
parts. The organs of living animals are an example of this
type.^^ Another type is that of accidents produced by some
causal principle not itself found in the subject, but which pro-
duces the subject (e. g., the generator) . These accidents are
found per se and naturally in homogeneous things, of which an
example is wetness in water. Since they cannot come from any
intrinsic principle, but must come from an extrinsic one, and
this cannot be the end, they must be produced by the efficient
agent of the subject, which is the generator.^- The per se
accidents of which Theodoric is here speaking come " under the
essential order of the generator," and are produced by the same
action which terminates in the substance or nature of the
subject, so that they do not need any other essential mover
^° Cap. 36, M 17va, T 184v, U 145va.
" Cap. 37, M 17va, T 184v, U 145va.
52 .
'Cap. 38, M 17vb, T 184v-185r, U 145va-b: Alia vero accidencia secundum
naturam que reducuntur ad aliquod principium causale, non quidem repertum in
subiecto, sed quod est ipsius subiecti causa factiva, puta generans. Et ista sunt
omnia ea accidencia que secundum naturam et per se insunt rebus homogeneis, ut
sunt humidum et frigidum virtuale in aqua, frigidum et siccum virtuale in terra,
grave et leve, et similia. Hec igitur, quia insunt per naturam et sunt per se acci-
dencia, necesse est ea reduci tamquam in causam aliquid eorum que sunt subiecti
per se et secundum naturam. Nee hoc potest esse aliquid intrinsecum, secundum
predictam racionem. Igitur oportet quod principium eorum sit aliquid extrinsecum,
quod sit per se causa subiecti. Finis autem non est principium factivum alicuius
rei, sed mo vet per intentionem solum. Relinquitur ergo efficiens sive generans esse
talium encium factivum principium.
210 W. A. WALLACE
to educe them from potency to act, as would be the case if
they were produced through alteration.^^
In this division, then, the first group of accidents are such
that, when not present in the subject, the subject is simply
in potency to them. This means for Theodoric that even when
all impediments are removed, they are still not actually present
in the subject, but require an extrinsic agent to educe them
from potency to act, and this agent further presupposes a
subject already existing with this potency.'* The second class
of accidents, found in the organic world, also presupposes a
subject already constituted in a determined species. Since,
however, they come to be from some causal principle within
the subject itself, they likewise are not made actually present
by the generator, although their principle is from the gene-
rator.^' As to the third class — which is of main interest here
insofar as it includes gravity and levity — it is manifest that
their subjects are not simply in potency to them, although it
might happen that the subject be accidentally in potency to
them should they be blocked by an impediment, if the accident
be of such type that it could be impeded. But in any case
they do not require an essential mover to educe them from
potency to act. They are already generated with the species,
and their essential mover was the generator while actually
generating.'^
^^Cap. 39, M 17vb, T 185r, U 145vb.
" Cap. 40, M 18ra, T 185r, U 146ra.
" Ibid.
^^ Cap. 41, M ISra, T 185r-v, U 146ra-b: Ea autem que sunt tercii generis,
secundum es que predicta sunt de hoc genere, manifestum est quod res habens suam
completam speciem non est in potencia simpliciter et per se ad aliquam talium disposi-
cionem, sed forte erit in potencia secundum accidens, scilicet propter impedimentum,
si fuerit talis disposicio cui possit accidere impedimentum. . . . Hinc est quod
gravia et levia habencia suam speciem non moventur nisi a motore accidentali qui est
removens prohibens, et non a generante, si vere et proprie loquamur de huiusmodi
motis et motuum eorum principiis. Sed tunc solummodo et vere moventur a gene-
rante ad huiusmodi naturalia accidencia, cum per mocionem generantis secundum
substanciam exeunt de potencia ad actum sue forme substancialis. Actio enim
generantis, ut predictum est, simul terminatur ad speciem rei et huiusmodi per se
accidencia. . . .
GRAVITATIONAL MOTION 211
This supplies Theodoric's basic answer to the difficulty pre-
sented by falling bodies. Heavy bodies already have their
gravity from their generator or essential mover. They do not
need the generator's action any further once they are generated;
all that they henceforth require is an accidental mover to
remove any impediments. Once such impediments are removed,
gravity is immediately and actually present, and the subject
is not in potency to it in any way, either accidentally or
essentially.^^
This still leaves unanswered the question as to what is the
efficient principle of the motion which follows from gravity.
As Theodoric has just shown, this is not the generator, nor is it
the falling body, nor is it the " disposition " which the body
acquires, nor can it be a " natural consequent " of its specific
nature, nor can it be whatever removes the impediment to its
motion (i. e., its accidental mover) , which merely functions
in a negative way.^® Rather, in considering such an existential
^^ Cap. 42, M 18rb, T 185v, U 146rb: Ex predictis liquet quod ea que insunt a
generante, constante re ipsa secundum suam speciem et cessante omni impedimento,
postquam eciam res separata fuerit a generante, mox acquisita sunt rei et statim
insunt, ut ostendit Philosophus in quarto Physicorum de propriis locis gravium et
levium. Non enim iam manet res ipsa in potencia aliquo modo ad huiusmodi
disposiciones; quia non accidentali, eo quod non sit impedimentum, nee essenciali,
propter dictam racionem, scilicet, quia res habens suam speciem non est in potencia
essenciali ad aliquam talium naturalium disposicionum. Hinc est quod ea que
secundum dictum modum insunt, sunt forme vel nature habentes se per modum
habitus circa subiectum, quorum esse est totum simul et in indivisibili, quum in
instanti talia acquisita sunt rei, sive in termino generacionis, sive eciam post,
remoto impedimento. . . .
^® Cap. 45, M 18vb, T 185v, U 146rb-147ra: Constante re secundum suam speciem,
et impedita per aliud ne possit esse in sua naturali disposicione, si removeatur
impedimentum, movere potest; quid sit per se agens et faciens rem esse in tali
disposicione.'' Generans enim non facit, eo quod res iam ponitur separata a generante.
Nee res ipsa seipsam agere potest ad huiusmodi disposicionem, secundum predicta.
Nee ipsa disposicio seipsam facit in esse, cum ipsa nondum sit, et non ens non
ducit seipsum ad esse. Nee potest inesse per naturam cuiusdam consequencie. . . .
Actus autem non complet potenciam secundum racionem consequendi, absque factivo
principio actu agente. . . . Nee sufficit dicere quod movens per accidens, id est,
removens prohibens, hoc faciat; non enim sufficit ad productionem seu factionem
rei non existentis solum removere impedimentum factionis, nisi sit aliquid actu
per se faciens.
212 W. A. WALLACE
thing as motion, itself an acquisition of being, Theodoric holds
that another factor must be taken into account, and this is the
dependence of things on a principal essential cause, not only
for their coming-to-be, but also for their continued being. In
his own words:
It must be understood that things able to be generated, considered
with respect to their acquisition of being, have a twofold relation
to the cause generating them: first, according to the conversion
of potency to substantial act, which has the formality of a coming-
to-be; secondly, according to the act acquired through the gene-
rator's causality, which is the formality under which it is already
constituted in being. In both these ways a thing comes under the
essential ordering of its generating cause. I wish ' generator ' to be
understood here as the per se and essential and principal cause of
the substance of the body, so as to exclude any instrumental cause
or other causes that may be accidental. I also understand ' essential
ordering ' to be that by which a thing depends essentially on its
cause, which not only holds for its coming-to-be . . . but also for
the perfection of its act once acquired. . . ,^^
His thought here has a definite Neoplatonic flavor, although it
is not without some affinity to the Thomistic analysis of divine
causality, for Theodoric conceives the principal essential cause
as that which sustains and connects the whole natural order,
that on which natural things depend for " a certain continua-
tion of their being through a continual influx " deriving from
it as an essential cause.''" The influx of this cause is what
^* Cap. 46, M 18vb, T 185v, U 147ra: Sed considerandum quod res generabiles,
quantum ad acquisicionem sui esse, dupliciter se habent ad causam dantem esse per
generacionem: uno modo, secundum exitum potencie ad actum substancialem, et
sic habet racionem eius quod est fieri; alio modo, respicit huiusmodi causam
secundum racionem actus acquisiti per talis cause causalitatem, et secundum hunc
modum res est in facto esse. TJtroque autem istorum modorum, res stat sub ordine
essenciali cause generantis. Volo autem intelligi generans quod est per se et essen-
cialis et principalis causa substancie rei, ut excludatur causa instrumentalis, vel
eciam alie cause, si que sunt accidentales. Dico autem ordinem essencialem quo res
per suam essenciam dependet a sua causa, quod quidem non solum convenit rei
secundum suum fieri, scilicet, quantum ad accepcionem sui esse quoad exitum
potencie ad actum per mocionem generantis, sed eciam attenditur in causa huiusmodi
ordinis secundum perfectionem iam acquisiti actus. . . .
®° Ibid.: Non est aliud quam quedam ipsius esse continuacio per continuum ipsius
cause influxum per essenciam. . . .
GRAVITATIONAL MOTION 213
sustains every natural substance in being. It is also, for
Theodoric, what gives it actuality during its transitional stage,
or sustains its motion:
The influx of this cause is found not only when the thing has been
constituted in being, but also in a certain way in its changing, for
otherwise the influx would already have ceased, and if this were
the only action of the universally first cause, then the being of the
thing would not be restricted to a certain and determined period.*^^
Thus Theodoric's solution reduces simply to this, that the
efficient principle of gravitational motion is the first principal
cause in the order of nature, or, in other words, " the motion
of which we are treating is reducible, as to its principal cause,
to the essential cause of the substance of the body in motion." ®"
The singular merit of Theodoric's solution would appear to
lie in the fact that he has simplified the search for the cause
of gravitational motion by eliminating the generator altogether,
as not being in the direct line of efficient causality effecting
the motion. Thus he does not consider it correct to say that
the generator is the cause of such motion by the form he puts
in the falling body. This, for him, is to confuse the meta-
physician's way of looking at the problem with that of the
natural philosopher. From the point of view of the natural
philosopher, the generator is the motive principle in the pro-
duction of the body; once the body is produced, the only
principle of its motion that need concern him is the accidental
mover, which removes any impediments that might restrain
an efficient causality deriving directly from the principal essen-
tial cause of the universe. He considers further that there is
*^ Cap. 46, T 185v: Huiusmodi igitur cause influxus non est solum in facto esse,
sed eciam est in fieri quodammodo, alioquin iam olim cessasset influere, et si hec
asset solum causa universaliter prima, tunc esse rei non clauderetur certa et deter-
minata peryodo. — The manuscript versions all give different readings for this chapter,
and none is clear and unambiguous. I give here only the reading as found in T,
which is the briefest and most intelligible. The English above is not a literal trans-
lation, but conveys what I believe to be the sense of the passage, as far as this is
discernible.
*^ Cap. 46, M 18rb, T 185v, U 147rb: Motus huiusmodi de quo agitur reducitur
Kicut in causam principalem in causam videlicet essencialem substancie rei mote.
214 W. A. WALLACE
" a twofold accidentality to be noted in such motions, both
coming from whatever restrains or impedes bodies of this type;
one is an [accidental] potency by which it ' happens ' that they
can be moved; the other by which it ' happens ' that they are
moved successively, for otherwise, once all impediments are
removed, they would move instantly." ^^ Unfortunately Theo-
doric does not elaborate this very interesting observation, but
immediately adds the colophon and explicit, bringing his opus-
culum on the elements to rather an abrupt close.
As to the precise mechanics favored by Theodoric for ex-
plaining the quantitative aspects of gravitational motion, one
can only adduce indirect evidence. Two views were current
among his contemporaries, one deriving from Averroes, which
would have the velocity of fall directly proportional to the
motive force and inversely proportional to the resistance of
the medium, the other deriving from Avempace and having
the velocity proportional to the difference between the motive
force and the resistance of the medium.*'* Theodoric seems to
"' Cap. 47, M 18vb-19ra, T 185v, U 147rb: Sed ex hoc frustium uititur quis recti-
ficai'e errorem suum quo asserit huiusmodi moveri a generante eo modo qui improba-
tus est, scilicet, in habeiido formam seu speciem a generante. Aliud est reducere aliquid
in aliud sicut in causam essencialem, secundum consideracionem primi philosophi,
qui considerat rerum essencias secundum racionem suarum quidditatum; aliud est
querere de alicuius principio motivo, secundum quod physicus liabet considerare.
Unde aliquid potest reduci in causam propriam secundum quod primus pliilosophus
considerat, quod non potest reduci in ipsam ita quod ipsa sit principium motivum.
Et sic se habet in proposito quantum ad motus gravium et levium, ut patet ex
prehabitis. Unde generans non est principium motivum nisi quando actu movet per
generacionem rei. Est autem principium causale [tale U] eciam postquam generavit,
sed removens prohibens est principium motus, attamen per accidens inquantum
physicus considerat de motu, videlicet, inquantum motus. Et secundum istum
modum cucurrit questio proposita de motibus gravium et levium, et negatur quod
moveantur a generante. Sed est hie advertenda duplex accidentalitas in motibus
istorum, et utraque est a prohibente seu impediente huiusmodi mobilia. Una est
secundum potenciam ad motum qua accidit eis moveri, alia est qua accidit eis
successive moveri; alias enim, remoto omni impedimento, mutarentur in instanti,
ut predictum est. Hec igitur sufficiant de dementis mquantum sunt partes mundi;
alibi enim de ipsis tractatum est inquantum sunt miscibiiia et partes mixti.
Explicit. . . .
"^For details, see Maier, " Platonische Einflus!.-! in der scholastischen Me-
chanik.'," Studien V, pp. 237-285.
GRAVITATIONAL MOTION 215
favor the Averroistic explanation, as evidenced by this text
where he explicitly rejects Avempace's solution:
It is obvious from what has been said that Avempace's position,
which the Commentator [Averroes] treats in the context of the
fourth book of the Physics, is false. This states that if all impedi-
ments be removed, taking away even corporeal media through
Avhich heavy and hght bodies move, supposing imaginatively that
the medium were void, that nonetheless heavy and light bodies
would be moved by nature with a determinate velocity and slow-
ness in time. According to the foregoing, however, this is only
possible where the mover and the thing moved are actually distinct,
and where the mover is also actually conjoined to the moved
according to a determinate proportion between the power of the
mover and the thing moved, as is the case with animals and
heavenh^ bodies. This would also render false the demonstration
of the Philosopher [Aristotle] in the fourth book of the Physics,
where he shows that heavy and light bodies do not move in a void,
as the Commentator sufficiently explains, nor need we delay over
this.°^
Theodoric's treatment of gravitational motion is consistently
concerned with the natural or physical causes of such motion,
and is devoid of quantitative or mathematical considerations.
In this respect his methodology in mechanics is significantly
different from that found in his optical studies, where experi-
mental and mathematical techniques reached their highest
development within the hochscholastik period. This difference
was noted in my earlier study, where I assigned it to the
obscurity of the principles available for explaining gravita-
tional motion (and chemical change) , forcing Theodoric to
remain at the qualitative and dialectical level when treating
these matters.®® Yet the conclusion need not be draAvn that
Theodoric's opuscula were without value for the later develop-
ment of the science of mechanics. Both Maier and Clagett
have shown how the mid-fourteenth century opuscula of writers
like Buridan began to change the ' climate of opinion,' and
"^ Cap. 44; Latin text given by Maier, Studien V, p. 246, fn. 14.
"" Scientific Methodology, pp. 127, 246-247.
216 W. A. WALLACE
prepare the way for the seventeenth century development, by
considering gravitational force and impetus less as the cause
of mechanical motion and more as an efect of the motion
itself.°^ Theodoric had not yet arrived at this conception, but
he perhaps cleared the way for it by eliminating gravity (and
its generator) entirely from the realm of efficient causality.
In this endeavor, and particularly in his attempt to point out
existing confusions between a physical and a metaphysical
approach to such problems of mechanics, Theodoric had some-
thing distinctive to offer to early fourteenth century physics.
W. A. Wallace, 0. P.
Dominican House of Philosophy,
Dover, Massachusetts.
"'' Studien V, pp. 380-382; Sdence of Mechanics, pp. 548-678.
"MINING ALL WITHIN"
Clarke's Notes to Rohault's Traite de Physique
(TM)
SAINIUEL CLARKE, the son of a prominent Norwich
family, was just sixteen when in 1691 he entered Gonville
and Cains College, Cambridge. A quarter of a century
earlier Roger North had remarked on " a general inclination,
especially of the brisk part of the university," ^ to follow the
teaching of Descartes; in 1691 Clarke found Cartesian phi-
losophy established and his own tutor, John Ellis, a " zealot "
for it."
One of the reasons for the Cartesian success had been the
excellent textbook on physics published in 1671 by Jacques
Rohault, a Cartesian whose ability as a teacher had been
partly responsible for the vogue for science in the French
capital. His Traite de Physique ^ had been quickly translated
into Latin by Theophile Bonet, and an edition of this trans-
lation was published in London in 1682. Edition after edition
of the Traite continued to appear in both French and Latin,*
^R. North, Autobiography, Univ. Lib. Cambridge, MS. Baker 37, fol. 163-163v.
Cited in M. H. Curtis, Oxford and Cambridge in Transition (Oxford, 1959), p. 257.
^ B. Hoadley in Samuel Clarke, Works (London, 1738) , I, p. i.
^ For accounts of Rohault's work and especially of the Traite de Physique, see
P. Mouy, Le Developpement de la Physique Cartesienne (Paris: Vrin, 1934) , pp.
108-138, and R. Dugas, La Mecanique au XVIP siecle (Neuchatel: Editions du
Griffon, 1954) , pp. 252-263.
* Mouy's account of these editions (op. cit., p. 137) has many errors. George
Sarton's " The Study of Early Scientific Textbooks," Isis XXXVIII (1947-8) , 137-
148, is more satisfactory. A fuller list is as follows:
French editions, published in Paris: 1671 (1st ed.), 1672 (2nd ed.), 1676/5
(3rd ed. corrigee) , 1676 (4th ed., reveiie & corrigee) , 1682 (4th ed., tres-
exactement reveue & corrigee), 1683 (6th ed.) , 1692 (6th ed., tres-exactement
reveue & corrigee), 1705, 1708 (12th ed.) , 1723, 1730.
French editions published in Amsterdam: 1672, 1676.
Latin translation by Bonet: 1674, Geneva: 1682, London; 1682, Amsterdam,
with notes of Le Grand; 1700, Amsterdam, with notes of Le Grand.
Latin translation by Clarke and with his notes: 1697 (1st version of notes),
217
218 MICHAEL A. IIOSKIN
but although still unrivalled, it was by Clarke's day becoming
seriously out of date. Leaving aside Newton's optical papers
(1672-6) and his epoch-making Principia (1687) , several im-
portant works on Cartesian physics had appeared since 1671/
and the many observations and experiments carried out,
especially by Fellows of the Royal Society, had led to numerous
detailed improvement in knowledge. Another reason for dis-
satisfaction in Cambridge was the poor quality of Bonet's
translation.
In Clarke, Ellis had a pupil of unusual gifts. Before coming
to Cambridge he had shown promise of the linguistic ability
that later in life led him to prepare editions of such different
authors as Caesar and Homer; and at Cambridge he made
his mark in natural philosophy by defending a Newtonian
thesis in the Schools.^ His insight into the forbidding Principia
was shortly to impress no less a figure than William Whiston,
who later succeeded Newton in his professorship. On meeting
Clarke, Whiston " was greatly surprised that so young a man
as Mr. Clarke then was, not much I think above twenty-two
years of age, should know so much of those sublime discoveries
which were then almost a secret to all, but a few particular
London; 1702 (2nd version) , London; 1708 (2nd version, with notes of Le
Grand), Amsterdam; 1710 (3rd version), London; 1713 (? 2nd version, with
notes of Le Grand), Cologne; 1718 (3rd version), London; 1739, " 6th edition,"
Leiden.
EngHsh translation of John Clarke with 4th version of Samuel Clarke's notes:
1723, London; 1728/9, London; 1735, London.
The various versions of Clarke's notes are discussed below. The term ' edition '
is perhaps misleading in this coimexion, for the successive versions are radically
changed; and it is therefore not appropriate to speak of " the " notes by Clarke.
Sarton's inability to obtain a copy of the 1697 edition prevented him from realizing
this. One of the few writers to draw attention to the changes in Clarke's notes is
F. Cajori, Newton's Principia (Berkeley: Univ. of California, 1934), p. 631.
^Including Malebranche, La Recherche de la Verite (1st ed., 1674/5), Regis,
Systeme de Philosophic (1st ed., 1690) , Perrault, Essais de Physique (1st ed., 1680) ,
Le Clerc, Physica (1st ed., 1695).
* Hoadley in Clarke, Works, I, p. i.
MINING ALL WITHIN 219
mathematicians." " Ellfs accordingly suggested to Clarke that
he should prepare a new Latin translation of the Traite.^
This invitation put Clarke in something of a dilemma: for
on the one hand he knew, as Ellis did not, that Newton's
Principia had not only made serious inroads into the Cartesian
position, but had in practice developed a rival cosmology; yet,
on the other hand, neither Newton's lectures nor his book had
had much impact on the university, and an improved Car-
tesian textbook was an urgent necessity. If Whiston's memory
for dates is accurate, Clarke's doubts must have persisted into
1697, the very year in which his translation appeared, for it
was then that he introduced himself to Whiston in a Norwich
coffee-house " to ask my opinion about the fitness of such a
translation. I well remember the answer I made him, that
' since the youth of the university must have, at present, some
System of Natural Philosophy for their studies and exercises;
and since the true system of Sir Isaac Newton's was not yet
made easy enough for the purpose, it is not improper, for their
sakes, yet to translate and use the system of Rohault . . . but
that as soon as Sir Isaac Newton's Philosophy came to be
better known, that only ought to be taught, and the other
dropped.' " ^ Newton stood in far greater need of an inter-
preter than Descartes; until one was forthcoming, Rohault must
be taught.
In the Preface to his 1697 edition, Clarke explains his
motives. The existing translation is faulty, and he gives
examples of this. But in addition, he says, he is not a man
to make an oracle of his author, and although critics have
failed to discredit many of the things in the book, some parts
have been overthrown by subsequent experiments and some
have been emended by later writers. He has therefore supplied
some short notes, in which he has tried to give " a full answer
to such objections made against the author as seem not to
■^ W. Whiston, Historical Memoirs of the Lije of Dr. Samuel Clarke (London,
1730), p. 6.
^ Ibid., p. 5.
^ Ibid., pp. 5-6.
220 MICHAEL A. IIOSKIN
have any just foundation, and a great many things in natural
philosophy, which have been since found out by the pains and
industry of later philosophers, are here selected from the best
writers; and there are also several things added out of the
observations of the ancient writers of natural philosophy and
natural history, where they seem to explain and illustrate
matters." "
Clarke was not the first to annotate Rohault's text; Antoine
Le Grand had provided animadversiones to the edition of
Bonet's translation published in Amsterdam in 1682. The
Bonet-Le Grand version was published again in Amsterdam
in 1700, and Le Grand's notes were later appended to Clarke's
translation and notes when these were published in Amsterdam
in 1708 and in Cologne in 1713. In total length the two sets of
notes are much the same. But whereas those of Le Grand are
individually of some length, most of Clarke's are slight, and he
refers to a bewildering variety of earlier authors: to classical
writers like Aristotle, Pliny, Seneca, Livy, Plutarch and Mac-
robius, to Cartesians such as Regis, Malebranche, Perrault and
Le Clerc, and to accounts of experiments by the Accademia
del Cimento, Hooke and Boyle, as well as to the writings of
Newton himself.
Newton is first mentioned in a note to the passage where
Rohault, following Descartes, concludes from the identity of
matter and extension that a vacuum is not possible. Clarke
notes that this is controversa et plena dissensionis inter Phi-
losophos, and refers the reader to Regis, where he will see that
the objections brought against Descartes are only slight.
He then adds, almost as an afterthought: sed lanceTn de-
primit Clariss. Newtonus, and gives a reference to the Prin-
cipia.^^ There is another reference to the Principia in a note
on the propagation of sounds.^^ In the notes to the chapter
^° Where appropriate, English translations are cited from John Clarke's 1723
edition. Samuel Clarke made curiously few alterations in his Prefaces, even when
the role played by the notes he is introducing clearly change.
" n, p. 187.
" n, p. 208.
MINING ALL WITHIN 221
on light Newton comes more into his own, for Clarke gives
an account of his work on refraction and its implications for
the construction of telescopes/^ He also lists phenomena asso-
ciated with prisms, and after mentioning the views of Descartes,
Hooke and Barrow, continues: His igitur OTuissis, propero ad
Clariss. Newtoni Theoriam {nam hypothesim earn appellare
fas non duco) qua superius memorata phaenomena, aliaque
omnia luculentissime explicantur. Clarke then shows how
each of the phenomena can be explained by Newton, and
concludes with a hint of better things to come: Permulta alia
omni luce dignissima de colorum natura et proprietatibus
invenit Clariss. Newtonus, quae aliquando in lucem edere
dignetur efflagitat orhis literarius.^^
In the cosmology of Part II, Newton is quoted for a more
exact estimate of the shape of the earth ^^ and for the relative
density of the earth and moon ^®; and in a note on comets
Newton's doctrine of their essential similarity to planets is
shown to be consistent with their observed behavior/^ Newton
is not mentioned in the notes to Part III, on terrestrial phe-
nomena, and Clarke at no time provided any notes to Part IV,
on physiology and medicine.
The reader of Clarke's notes, then, would learn something
of Newton's prismatic experiments and his doctrine of colors;
but of his great cosmological synthesis, little more than his
views on the nature of comets. Newtonian attraction is not so
much as mentioned. The Cartesian plenum, the three elements,
Rohault's condemnation of attraction, all are allowed to pass
without comment. It is true that the notes on the prism and
on comets are the longest of all, but the other notes of substance
are usually confined to discussions of the views of Cartesian
commentators. Clarke gives the views on solidity of Descartes,
Malebranche and Perrault,^^ the laws of Regis on elastic im-
pact,^^ the views of Regis, Perrault, Malebranche and Le Clerc
on rest,-° Perrault's explanation of the direction of free fall,
" II, pp. 212-3. i« II, p. 227. " II, pp. 191-3.
^* n, pp. 214-9. " II, pp. 227-30. =» II, pp. 189-90.
" II, p. 225. i« n, pp. 198-200. " II, pp. 231-2.
21
222 MICHAEL A. HOSKIN
and so on. There is no suggestion of a systematic refutation of
the text and argument in favor of Newtonian philosophy,
although historians who have confused the 1697 notes with
those of later editions have often supposed Clarke to offer just
this." In fact, the notes are tucked away at the back of the
book, and are referred to on the title page and in the Preface
by the diminutive annotatiunculae . They represent the tenta-
tive first steps of a newly-fledged graduate.
By 1702, when a second edition was required, Clarke's inten-
tions had undergone a major change. His notes are now
enlarged to about a fifth of the length of Rohault's text and
are dignified with the title annotata. Some of the improvements
are credited to Whiston and to another Clare physicist, Richard
Laughton; others indicate Clarke's own interests, as when he
tells us of some of his experiments ^^; but it is the name of
Newton that appears on the title pages ^* as the chief source
of the notes. This promise of a more hostile attitude towards
the Rohault text is soon confirmed by the notes themselves.
Thus, when Rohault suggests that the essence of matter consists
in extension, Clarke retorts that a similar argument would
make its essence consist in existence, and that it in fact consists
in impenetrability.^^ Of the identification of matter and space
he now declares roundly. Hoc quidem falsum est,-^ and he
dismisses the supposed equal quantities of matter in a vessel
of lead and a vessel of wax with omnino hoc falsum.^'^
On the more constructive side, Clarke now feels at liberty
^^ Hoadley, who clearly lacks Whiston's personal knowledge of these events, is
perhaps the first to fall into this error. " His aim was much higher than the making
of a better translation of it. He resolved to add to it such notes, as might lead the
young men insensibly, and by degrees, to other and truer notions " (Clarke, Works,
I, p. ii) . At the other extreme, R. Dugas and P. Costabel date the Newtonian notes
from the 1723 English edition (Histoire Generale des Sciences, ed. R. Taton [Paris,
1957-], n, p. 465).
'^ " I have tried it with quicksilver . . .," notes p. 13; "I have oftentimes ordered
the glass . . .," notes p. 55.
^* Plural, because the 1702 edition (like the 1710 and perhaps others) was re-
issued with a new title page. Newton's name occurs on both.
" Notes, p. 2. =>« Notes, p. 3. " Notes, p. 4.
((
MINING ALL, WITHIN " 223
to introduce longer notes, notably of Boyle's hydrostatical
paradoxes and his experiments on taste, smells and so on.^*
And, most important of all, he provides a brief but uncom-
promising exposition of Newtonian gravitation, in his views
of the cause of which he was further from the Cartesian position
than Newton at times seemed to be.-'' In Part I he remarks
in passing that " it is now allowed, that gravity does not depend
upon the air or aether, but is an original connate and immutable
affection of all matter," ^° and he develops the theory in a series
of three notes near the end of Part II. The Cartesian account
of gravity is now dismissed as " a very ingenious hypothesis,"
and it is Newton who has " established the true system of the
world beyond all controversy." ^^ His admiration is expressed
in the highest terms: Newton " in his wonderful book of the
Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy has explained
the true system of the world, and shown the true and adequate
causes of all the celestial motions almost beyond the genius
of a man." ^^
Clarke explains that, according to Newton, gravity is asso-
ciated with every pair of particles, wherever they are, whatever
the bodies in question, and whatever the time; it is propor-
tional to the quantities of matter, and inversely proportional
to the square of the distances. This being so, it follows
(he says) that gravity is an ultimate fact: " gravity of the
weight of bodies is not any accidental effect of motion or of
any very subtle matter, but an original and general law of
all matter impressed on it by God, and maintained in it per-
petually by some efficient power, which penetrates the solid
^^ Hydrostatical paradoxes, notes pp. 23-26. On taste, notes pp. 35-36. On smell,
notes pp. 36-38. Boyle is mentioned in some ten notes altogether, and Dr. M. Boas'
remark (Rev. d'Hist. des Sc, IX (1956), 124) that Boyle's experiments are quoted
almost as often as those of Newton is true of the 1702 notes.
"* On Clarke's views as expressed in his other works, see H. Metzger, Attraction
UniveTselle et Religion Naturelle chez quelques Commentateurs Anglais de Newton
in (Act. Sci. Ind. 623), (Paris, 1938), pp. 113-139. On the relations between the
views of Newton and Clarke, see A. Koyre, From the Closed World to the Infinite
Universe (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins, 1957), pp. 300-301.
'" Notes, p. 18. '^ Notes, p. 80. '^ Notes, p. 72.
224 MICHAEL A. HOSKIN
substance of it; for gravity is never in proportion to the super-
ficies of bodies or of any corpuscles, but always to the solid
quantity of them. Wherefore we ought no more to enquire
how bodies gravitate, than how bodies began first to be
moved." ^^
In the other two notes Clarke gives a taste of the power of
the Newtonian conception. In the first he outlines, informally,
how gravity explains the first two Keplerian laws of planetary
motion ^*; in the second he follows Halley in using gravity to
explain the motion of the tides .^^ Here at last the English
undergraduate was given a glimpse of the power of the New-
tonian theory; one wonders what continental readers made of
these notes when they were republished in Amsterdam in 1708,
no longer hidden at the back of the book, but displayed as
footnotes to Rohault's text.^*^
Although in the 1702 notes Clarke's views are unmistakable,
surprisingly large sections of the Rohault text are still allowed
to pass unchallenged. Sometimes this is because Clarke does
not yet go out of his way to pick quarrels with his author —
for example, he does not exploit Newton's teaching on comets
as an argument against the Cartesian vortices — but sometimes
it is because Clarke is still hampered by Newton's failure to
publish a more widely-ranging account of his views.
In 1704, however, Newton's Opticks at last appeared, and
it was Clarke himself who prepared the Latin translation of
1706.^" When a new edition of his Rohault translation was
published four years later, Clarke made numerous references
in his notes to the Opticks, many of them accompanied by
^^ Notes, pp. 81-83.
''* Notes, pp. 70-72. An improved version of this note, with some mathematics,
was published in the 1723 edition.
*^ Notes, pp. 83-85.
'" The influence, if any, of this early popularization of Newtonian cosmology on
the continent does not appear to have been studied. Clarke's forthright views on the
nature of attraction are unlikely to have commended themselves to Cartesian readers.
*''With additional queries, in particular the one which later became Query 31,
from which Clarke quotes nearly two dozen passages in his 1710 notes.
"mining all within ' 225
lengthy quotations. Soine of these references are in the ex-
tended comments to the chapters on light, but by no means all.
Encouraged in his criticisms by this new ammunition, Clarke
now carries the war into the enemy's camp. His earlier dis-
cussion of the application of gravity to the motion of planets
is now preceded by four arguments showing that " the vortices
of matter in which the planets swim, are mere fictions and
contrary to the phenomena of nature." ^^ Rohault's paragraph
headed " that these three elements are not imaginary," pre-
viously allowed to pass, now has a note beginning " these three
elements are to be looked upon as fictitious and imaginary." ^^
The Cartesian subtle matter is now a " fiction . . . very weak,
and contrary both to reason and experience." *" At last Clarke's
notes begin to provide a systematic refutation of the text.
At the same time the positive teaching in the notes is greatly
increased. Perhaps nothing illustrates their role in this respect
better than the inclusion of " six whole dissertations " by
Charles Morgan, a contemporary of Clarke at Cambridge and
later Master of Clare College. These were important enough
to merit republication as a separate tract in 1770, long after
the Cartesian controversy had been settled in Newton's favor.
Three of the dissertations, on the motion of falling bodies, on
the motion of projectiles, and on the descent of bodies falling
in a cycloid, together form a single footnote occupying over
a dozen pages of small print and ostensibly provoked by
Rohault's innocuous remark that falling bodies accelerate.*^
Clarke clearly feels that he must take opportunities of com-
plementing the text over and above what is strictly necessary
to the establishment of Newtonian philosophy.*"
One particularly interesting note contains Clarke's doctrine
="'?. 311.
'' P. 105, my italics.
*"?. 25.
*^ The acknowledgement to Morgan is made in the Translator's Preface. Clarke's
presentation copy to Morgan is in the possession of Clare College, Cambridge.
*^ Mouy (op. cit., p. 137) erroneously supposes these dissertations to be by
Clarke and to be " ses critiques principales."
226 MICHAEL A. HOSKIN
of the efficient cause of gravity. " Since nothing acts at a
distance," he says, " that is, nothing can exert any force in
acting where it is not, it is evident, that bodies (if we would
speak properly) cannot at all move one another, but by contact
and impulse. . . . Yet because besides innumerable other phe-
nomena of nature, that universal gravitation of matter . . .
can by no means arise from the mutual imj^ulse of bodies
(because all impulse must be in proportion to the superficies,
but gravity is always in proportion to the quantity of solid
matter, and therefore must of necessity be ascribed to some
cause that penetrates to the inward substance itself of solid
matter) , therefore all such attraction is by all means to be
allowed as it is not the action of matter at a distance, but the
action of some immaterial cause which perpetually moves and
governs matter by certain laws." He goes on to quote several
passages from the Opticks, adding the gloss " not bodily
impulse " to Newton's " What I call attraction may be per-
formed by impulse." *^
With the publication of the 1710 edition Clarke's notes
assumed almost their final shape. On the title pages Newton's
name is actually given greater prominence than those of author
and editor; the notes have grown to between one-quarter and
one-third the length of the text ^* with a corresponding increase
in quality, and they are now displayed as footnotes with
references in the index.*^ Clarke left these notes unaltered in
the 1718 edition, which suggests that after his famous contro-
versy with Leibniz,*'' in which he acted as Newton's champion,
he saw little reason to alter his opinions — above all, on the
nature of gravity. But he did make a few minor alterations
"Pp. 50-51.
** As the title-page of a reissue accurately observes, they have been increased by
half.
*^ The continental edition of 1708 has footnotes, but these are not referenced in
the index. The references in the 1710 edition are presumably to the notes Clarke
himself regarded as important.
*" See H. G. Alexander (ed.) , The Leibniz-Clarke Corres^pondence (Manchester:
Univ. Press, 1956) .
"mining all within" 227
in the notes for the English translation published in 1723
by his brother John: the discussion of Kepler's laws*^ and
Morgan's dissertation on the rainbow are enlarged,*^ there is
mention of Newton's view of the origins of novae (taken from
the 1713 edition of the Principia) /^ and a handful more quo-
tations are culled from the Queries in the Opticks,^'^ but other-
wise almost all the changes are echoes of changes in the second
English edition of the Opticks (dated 1717, but published too
late for use in Clarke's 1718 notes) .
The English translation with notes was republished twice,
in 1728/9 and 1735, and the Latin translation with notes
appeared in Leiden as late as 1739, over forty years after the
first set of notes and more than half-a-century after the pub-
lication of the Principia. Benjamin Hoadley and Whiston both
testify to the popularity of the Clarke-Rohault text in Cam-
bridge even after the editor's death in 1729, Hoadley remarking
with mixed feelings, " To this day his translation of Rohault
is, generally speaking, the standing text for lectures; and his
notes, the first direction to those who are willing to receive
the reality and truth of things in the place of invention and
romance," " Playfair may well be right in ascribing this popu-
larity to the dual system of college and university teaching in
Cambridge "; whatever the views of a college tutor over the
merits of Descartes and Newton, his students could use Clarke's
book. The work of Newton's supporters would have been
difficult indeed, if Clarke had not returned twice to make a
thorough revision of the hesitant and deferential annotatiun-
culae of his early graduate days,
Michael A, Hoskin
Whipple Science Museum
Free School Lane,
Cambridge, England.
'' n, p. 75.
*'n, pp. 233-235.
'II, p. 71. Principia (1713 edition), p. 481.
^°II, pp. 137-8; II, p. 193.
°^ Hoadley in Samuel Clarke, Works, I, p. ii; Whiston, op. cit., p. 6. The text was
also used at Yale until 1743, cf. Sarton, op. cit., p. 145.
■ Cf. Cajori, op. cit., pp. 631-2.
62
Part Three
PHILOSOPHY OF SCIENCE
DARWIN'S DILEMMA*
C#J>
DARWIN reared his theory of Natural Selection upon the
basis of three observable facts in the world of living
things, and two deductions which he made from these
observations. The first two observations are the following:
organisms tend to increase their numbers in a geometrical ratio
such that, if unchecked, the individuals of a given type of
organism would quickly become so great in number that no
country could support them. On the other hand, and this is
the second observation, the numbers of a given type of organism
do in fact remain relatively constant.
The first deduction made from these first two observations
to account for them is what Darwin called " the struggle for
existence." For if nature produces more individuals than can
survive, the greater number of them must, for some reason or
other, be destroyed. Now this Darwin accounted for by com-
petition between organisms, resulting in survival of those that
are sufficiently equipped by their quality, or are favored by
circumstances, such as the seed that falls on fertile ground.
Darwin's third observation was that organisms tend to vary.
His first example is that of variation under domestication, of
wheat, for instance, of pigeons, of horses, and of hounds. Now
this is attributed to man's power of selection. These variations
are intended by man. However deliberate the choice, not all of
these variations that are brought about are actually the result
of a deliberate selection — not all. Deliberate choice, improve-
ment of environment, or cross-breeding, are not all there is to
this selection. Darwin pointed out that,
. . . eminent breeders try by methodical selection, with a distinct
object in view, to make a new strain or sub-breed, superior to any
kind in the country. But for our purposes, a form of Selection,
which may be called Unconscious, and which results from everyone
* These pages are the transcript of a recording.
231
232 CHARLES DEKONINCK
trying to possess and breed from the best individual animals, is
more important. [Notice, the breeding or deliberate improvement
of, say, the quality of wheat or the quality of horses is accom-
panied by an improvement that was not intended; that is not
deliberate, an unconscious selection is taking place.] Thus, a man
who intends keeping pointers naturally tries to get as good dogs
as he can, and afterwards breeds from his own best dogs, but he
has no wish or expectation of permanently altering the breed.
Nevertheless we may infer that this process continued during
centuries, would improve and modify any breed, in the same way
as Bakewell, Collins, etc., by this very same process, only carried
on more methodically, did greatly modify, even during their life-
times, the forms and qualities of their cattle.^
I have quoted this long passage because of the importance
of what Darwin calls " Unconscious Selection," unconscious
" insofar that the breeder could never have expected, or even
wished to produce the result that ensued — namely the pro-
duction of two distinct strains." This unconscious selection is
important to Darwin's second deduction, namely. Natural
Selection. The distinction which he makes brings us face to
face with two different types of selection; the first is deliberate,
with a distinct object in view; the second was unintended
unexpected, nor even wished for. So far as man's purpose in
this particular intervention is concerned, the new strains pro-
duced by the second type are fortuitous. Actually, they are
products of nature. The natural principle, as distinguished
from the conscious, deliberate one, is called Natural Selection.
There is no doubt that Darwin was reasoning here on the
basis of an analogy or proportion between art and nature, and
that the term for transition was selection. In other words,
unconscious selection is first revealed as a by-product, so to
speak, of conscious selection, and an unconscious selection is
going on in nature all the time. This was sound reasoning, it
seems to me, given the observations — particularly the one that
all organisms tend to vary considerably — which should in fact
^ Charles Darwin, The Origin of Species, chap. I (New York: Modern Library,
n.d.). p. 32.
Darwin's dilemma 233
be warranted by experience, and in some measure they are.
(Whether they are or not warranted is none of our concern at
this moment or in this particular paper.) The point is that
I see no problem in unconscious selection going on in domes-
tication and in nature untouched by man. Right now I am
particularly interested in the analogy and the more so because
Darwin himself dwells upon it. Between conscious selection,
and that natural selection which accompanies it but lies outside
man's intention, Darwin sees a proportion. He makes a tight
case of it. Listen to this from Chapter Three of The Origin
of Species.
I have called this principle, by which each slight variation, if useful,
is preserved, by the term Natural Selection, in order to mark its
relation to man's power of selection. But the expression often used
by Herbert Spencer of the Survival of the fittest is more accurate,
and is sometimes equally convenient. We have seen that man by
selection can certainly produce great results, and can adapt organic
beings to his own uses, through the accumulation of slight but
useful variations, given to him by the hand of Nature. But Natural
Selection, as we shall hereafter see, is a power incessantly ready for
action, and is as immeasurably superior to man's feeble efforts, as
the works of Nature are to those of Art.
H Darwin's analogy holds good, it implies that both art and
nature proceed by determinate ways or means to produce some
final product. Another point worthy of attention is that to
Darwin's mind the works of nature are immeasurably superior
to those of our art or craft. We must not interpret Darwin as
belie\"ing that art cannot produce certain works that nature
could not bring about, in which respect art is superior to nature.
Nature does not amputate a gangrenous foot, supply spectacles,
or false teeth. Here we can do something that is useful and
that nature cannot do. Darwin only meant that nature's ways,
in producing her own works, are immeasurably more subtle,
and relatively obscure to us, than our own ways and means in
producing artifacts. Nature's selection is superior to our o\vn.
That is Darwin's position, and notice that he still calls it
selection.
234 CHARLES DEKONINCK
Before dwelling on this second deduction, namely natural
selection, let us return for a moment to the first, the struggle
for existence, which Darwin attributes to every organism. And
here is where we will encounter our dilemma. We all know
what the expression " struggle for existence " means as referring
to man's activity, as when he struggles to get somewhere, say,
physically, to get up a hill, or against an enemy, or to make
a living, or to get a job. In this context the word " struggle "
is quite clear. It can be verified immediately. But what does
it mean when applied to all organisms, to beasts, and even to
plants as Darwin holds. '^ He was keenly aware that he was not
using the expression in its readily verified meaning. And here
I quote from the very same Chapter Three.
I should premise that I use this term in a large and metaphorical
sense including dependence of one being on another, and including
(which is more important) not only the life of the individual, but
success in leaving behind progeny. Two canine animals, in a time
of dearth, may be truly said to struggle with each other which
shall eat food and live. But a plant on the edge of a desert is said
to struggle for life against the drought, [and here the meaning of
" struggle " is going to be somewhat diminished], though more
properly it should be said to be dependent on the moisture. A
plant which annually produces a thousand seeds, of which only one
of an average comes to maturity, may be more truly said to
struggle with the plants of the same and other kinds which already
clothe the ground. The mistletoe is dependent on the apple and a
few other trees, but can only in a far-fetched sense be said to struggle
with these trees, for, if too many of these parasites grow on the
same tree, it languishes and dies. But several seedling mistletoes,
growing close together on the same branch, may more truly be said
to struggle with each other. As the mistletoe is disseminated by
birds, its existence depends on them; and it may methodically be
said to struggle with other fruit bearing plants, in tempting birds
to devour and thus disseminate its seeds. In these several senses,
which pass into each other, I use for convenience' sake the general
term Struggle for Existence. [Italics added.]
There stands the dilemma. The first one is clearly expressed
when he says, " I use this term in a large and metaphorical
sense." This is nonetheless most equivocal. The second is the
Darwin's dilemma 235
example of the plant. He allows that a plant struggles, but
of course a plant does not struggle in the way a dog does;
and a dog does not struggle in the way a man does to solve
a problem. Further, we must notice that, still within the
realm of plants, in one case we can say more truly that they
struggle than in other cases. But a meaning of struggle is still
retained somewhat. It is not quite the struggle of a man, it is
not quite that of a beast, but it is not confined to that of a
plant merely needing moisture either. One plant can somehow
compete with another and, as a result, the most favored,
either by quality or by circumstance, will survive, or its
progeny. " The mistletoe . . . may methodically be said to
struggle with other fruit-bearing plants." So that the plants,
in a sense, truly struggle after all.
This passage from the Origin of Species reminds us of Aris-
totle's caution in using the simple term " life." If we compare
plants to animals, he says, they are not alive; but compared
with other forms of matter, they are indeed alive. So " alive "
or " life " are equivocal terms, they have many meanings.
There is a meaning of life verified in a beast, not verifiable in
the plant; and one of man, that is not verifiable in a beast.
Aristotle held that such terms are homonymous by design,
not by chance (as the word " seal ") . Terms or expressions
that are equivocal by design are called analogous. Bertrand
Russell speaks of " systematic ambiguity." But Darwin said
that he was using " struggle for existence " in a large and
metaphorical sense. Now analogy and metaphor are not the
same. I mean that a " large sense," and a " metaphorical
sense " are not necessarily the same, and that is where we
run into difficulty." Take for instance the word " light," or
the word " to see." " To see " means first of all, " to see
with my eyes." But when you explain to me some problem
^ Not even those of Darwin's followers who opt for sheer metaphor quite succeed
in circumventing such words as " good," " favorable," " advantageous," " better,"
" improvement," and the like. This is strikingly borne out in an excellent paper,
" Darwin and Religion," by Prof. John C. Greene, which appeared in the Pro^
ceedings of the American Philosophical Society, CII (1959), 716-725.
236 CHARLES DEKONINCK
and I say, " Oh I see," I do not mean that I see with my eyes,
since the figures on the blackboard I see with my eyes are
not exactly what it is that I understand. Seeing is said here
of understanding. So "seeing" — the word — is still materially
the same, but it has a prior meaning, and we use the same
word because this sameness expresses the passage that our
mind makes from what we know less to what we know more.
" To see " is an analogous term.
Take the word " light " for a second instance: " sunlight,"
" candlelight," " the light of reason," or, " to examine a problem
in the light of calculus." Is " light " used as a metaphor, or
as an analogous term? It all depends. If you have changed
the meaning of the term " light " — extending it to identify this
new kind of thing that you want to designate by it — if you
have actually stretched the meaning of the word, then it is
an analogous term. But if you retain exclusively the first
meaning of the word as in " candlelight " or " sunlight," and
have not changed what we call the imposition, then your
application of this word in the " light of geometry " is a meta-
phor. An analogous term may have first been used as a
metaphor, such as the word " tongue " when meant of speech.
But eventually the word was intended to mean both organ
and language. " The English tongue," or " la langue fran^aise "
are not metaphors. But not all metaphors can become ana-
logical terms. " Brief candle " is a fine metaphor for human
life, but we would hardly say that our life is such in a large
sense of " brief candle "; or that a heart is of stone in the
large sense of stone. Nonetheless Darwin, explaining why he
uses a metaphor, is actually giving reasons which, to an Aris-
totelian, make the expression an analogous one, although
Darwin calls it metaphorical. It is actually analogy and I will
show you why. We should say " in a large, extended sense,"
as distinguished from a metaphor whose sense has not changed
when applied to something else, although the mode of signifying
does change.
You may now wonder what the purpose is in going into the
Darwin's dilemma 237
question of naming as I do. It is my simple intention to show
what strange views we may be led to, unless we clear up this
particular problem of naming in connection with the theory
of evolution — with the theory of evolution, at least as it was
begun by Darwin. Theories of evolution were around long
before then, but Darwin can be said to have begun the scientific
investigation of the problem and to have proposed a scien-
tifically sound theory, at least for his time.
One of these strange views — and I should not use the word
" strange " in too forceful a way — we find in Sir Julian Huxley's
interpretation of general Darwinian theory. Darwin allowed
that one plant may be said to struggle " more truly " than
another plant, according to circumstances, or according to kind,
or according to the kind of plant or kinds of plants with which
it has to struggle. Now this is surely very different from saying
that a stone is more truly a stone than a heart of stone, because
in the latter case we have not changed the imposition of the
word " stone "; we have retained the first meaning and applied
it without imposing a new meaning upon it. There is a change
in the mode of signifying, but not in the significance of the
word. For the " heart of stone " is in no sense truly a stone
at all. But Sir Julian takes Darwin's " metaphorical sense "
quite literally. Take, for instance, the term tending in " ten-
dency of all organisms to increase in geometrical ratio." Is
the word " tendency " used here as a metaphor, or is it taken
as an analogous term.^ For instance, it is a metaphor in " the
tendency of a variable to its limit." This is not tendency by
which a man tends to do this, or tends to do that; or by which
a dog intends to get the bone. The " tendency of a variable
to a limit " is in this context plainly a metaphor.
Sir Julian Huxley writes that " at first sight, the biological
sector seems full of purpose. Organisms are built as if in
purposeful pursuit of a conscious aim." But the truth, he adds,
" lies in those two words ' as if.' As the genius of Darwin
showed, the purpose is only an apparent one." Darwin's con-
tribution, according to Sir Julian, consists precisely in this —
238 CHARLES DEKONINCK
in the discovery that there is no purposeful activity going on
in nature and that everything must be explained without
having any resort whatsoever to purpose; and that if there
appears to be purpose in nature it is only in appearance, so
that when you use terms that are related to purpose in beasts
or plants, you are using the term as a sheer metaphor. There
is no room for a " large " sense of purpose.
It is not my intention to show here that nature acts for a
purpose. I merely want to attract your attention to the strange
antinomies we are led to when we deny purpose in nature.
I am just going to present the antinomies; my present purpose
does not extend beyond this. Let me then make four points
regarding purposeful activity and nature, in the context of
Huxley's assertions which I have just quoted.
(1) Sir Julian, along with Lord Russell, is emphatic that
action for a purpose is clearly recognized in human making
and behavior. He accepts that man acts for a purpose, acts for
the sake of something; and this is verified in man's case unmis-
takably according to both these authors; they are both quite
critical and accept as little as possible, which is in itself a
praiseworthy attitude. They say, and allow us to say, that
man truly acts for a purpose. Far from denying such action,
Huxley asserts that " the future of man, if it is to be progress
and not merely a standstill or degeneration, must be guided
by a deliberate purpose. And this human purpose can only be
formulated in terms of the new attributes achieved by life in
becoming human." Purposeful activity is therefore a radically
new kind of reality that arises uniquely in the case of man.
It is not to be found in nature itself. Man himself cannot be
said to have been brought about for the sake of something.
Yet man, as we have stressed, is in many respects unique
among animals: a purposeful agent is brought about without
intent in any possible sense of this word.
Until this purposeful agent appeared on the scene, " The
purpose manifested in evolution, whether in adaptation, spe-
cialization, or biological progress, is only an apparent purpose.
Darwin's dilemma 239
It is just as much a product of blind forces as is the falling
of a stone to earth or the ebb and flow of the tides. It is we
who have read purpose into evolution, as earlier men projected
will and emotion into inorganic phenomena like storm or earth-
quake. If we wish to work towards a purpose for the future
of man, we must formulate that purpose ourselves. Purposes
in life are made, not found."
Sir Julian offers no reason why, though at first sight the
biological sector seems full of purpose, the purpose manifested
in evolution is only an apparent purpose. He offers no reason
for this, but I will explain the seeming plausibility of this
hypothesis a bit later.
We must concede that if there is action for a purpose in
irrational nature, that is, outside of man, it will be very dif-
ferent from the kind we find in man, to the point where
purpose or action for a purpose will have a different meaning
when said of man, when said of beast, and when said of a plant.
If there is that kind of action in nature, if the term purpose
is deserved, if it is applicable, it will have to carry a new
meaning, but a meaning related to and dependent upon the
one we first imposed. If it is stretchable, as it were, if it can
be enlarged, then we will have to accept that it will have a
different connotation in these different cases.
This we ask of Sir Julian. Is it so obvious that a purpose
is either human or no pui-pose at all.'' If a purpose is indeed
either human or no purpose at all, then of course Sir Julian's
position would be quite irrefutable. He suggests that it is we
who read purpose into nature, that is, we project into nature
certain things that are actually characteristic of, and exclu-
sively found in man. And this is no doubt often the case. But
are we not being anthropomorphic, we ask, in a more sophis-
ticated way when we imply that nature's purpose is either
human or no purpose at all? Isn't that another kind of
anthropomorphism.'' On the other hand if organisms are built
by nature in " purposeful pursuits," does this mean that nature
must have a " conscious aim "? I mean, is purposeful action
240 CHARLES DEKONINCK
restricted to conscious action? That is a further assumption
and it ought to be justified. Darwin justified it when he spoke
of the plant Hving on the edge of the desert. He showed us
that he was stretching the meaning of the word " struggle for
existence " and " struggle for survival," a survival, which, of
course, is understood as a good. Dogs struggle to acquire food
because they like it. But if a plant is going to struggle after its
food, can you mean that the plant likes it.'' We assume that
a plant by definition at least has no sensation, so how could
the plant like iood? Yet plants struggle, as Darwin points out.
We have to stretch our words, with Darwin. But Sir Julian
refuses to stretch them: he does not allow a new, related,
meaning whose difference is based upon a proportion found
between the things intended by the same word.
Allow me to mention in passing the over-emphasis on change
in Darwin and in Huxley, an over-emphasis which has been
recently criticized rather ably by Loren Eiseley in a book
written on the occasion of Darwin's centenary. These thinkers
have so emphasized the passage from one form of life to another
that they have lost sight of the remarkable stability that can
go along with this change. Now the stability of an organism
needs explanation too, and change alone is not going to explain
stability. We bring in this example simply to point out the
idea of what we mean by action for an end in nature or what
is called final cause, although I am wary of the term final
cause, so easily misunderstood. It is not found in Aristotle who
teaches that things act " for the sake of something." " Causa
finalis " is found in scholastic philosophy. St. Thomas uses it,
as a matter of fact, but I am wary of it in English because it
tends to be technical. With Aristotle a man acts for a purpose
and beasts act for a purpose too; and, while plants do also,
this is very obscure and we must at any rate extend the
meaning of purpose. The term " good " has likewise several
meanings — a whole orderly group of them co-ordinated some-
how one with the other, all covered by that single term
good "; as for instance in a " good steak," a " good man."
Darwin's dilemma 241
" Good " means sometEing quite different in each case. There
is not a unique meaning here, but actually many co-ordinated
meanings.
(2) Take an organ such as an eye or a tooth. We say that
eyes are for the sake of seeing, that incisors are for the sake
of cutting and molars are for grinding. When we say this are
we using metaphor? We can go way back to Empedocles who
said that we have eyes not for the sake of seeing but we see
because we have eyes. Another philosopher said that man is
the wisest of animals because he just happens to have hands.
It is far more thorough, I think, to hold that man has hands
in view of making. Why should one position exclude purpose
as a cause — I mean a good as " that for the sake of which "?
Nature acts for a purpose; of course, not exactly in the way we
do, since there is, after all, a radical difference between nature
and reason, but in a proportional way: there is a proportion
between the way we act and the way nature acts. There is no
true identity, but only a proportion, and an irreducible one,
between them. Can we accept this? It is not our problem here.
I merely want to show, in a dialectical way, what we are led
to when we deny that nature acts for a purpose, even in this
remote yet analogous sense of the term.
Now, my question is about this struggle. Does that which
finally comes about after a certain activity possess the nature
of good? It is good to have the molars in the back (allow
me this example from Aristotle) and our cutting teeth in the
front. Is this disposition produced by a proportional cause or
by chance? Do we understand why the molars should be in
the back to gi-ind, why the grinding should go on there and
the cutting out in front? Do our teeth make sense? If their
disposition were reversed, it would be unreasonable, it would
be monstrous. That is how we distinguish monsters from non-
monsters.
Now, if we allow that nature produces such end products
because they are good, we imply that nature acts for a purpose,
but in doing so we must be aware that we have extended the
meaning of " end " and " action " and " purpose.'*
242 CHARLES DEKONINCK
(3) Now, once we have recognized goodness in these things,
we can still ask whether nature acted " for the sake " of this
goodness, or whether it came about for no purpose at all, just
by chance, as some of the ancient philosophers held, in common
with some more recent ones. The Darwinian philosophers who
deny action for a purpose in nature should realize that they
have been anticipated by the earliest philosophers; they are
somehow regressing to ancient positions.
Sir Julian's view is that all can be rendered intelligible with-
out purpose — by blind forces. Just what is meant by " blind
forces," by " blind," on the one hand, and " forces " on the
other — not to mention the equivocity or ambiguity of the two
words taken together in " blind forces " — is not clear. I know
what a " blind man " is, but a " blind stone " is something
else — I mean that a stone is not expected to see. This makes
a considerable difference. I know fairly well what I mean
when I say that stones have neither eyesight nor understanding
(and even Sir Julian insists upon the uniqueness of man as to
understanding and purposeful action) .
Remember Darwin's plant struggling at the edge of the
desert. Huxley will state that this struggle and its result are
the product of blind forces, as in the falling of a stone. Darwin
did not say this, although he did leave us with a dilemma when
he stated that he was using " struggle for existence " in a large
and Tnetaphorical sense. Darwin would not have held that
stones struggle to fall, and to say that they do would be poor
metaphor. But if taken as a mere metaphor apropos of living
things, why should it then be good? What does it convey that
the fall of a stone does not.'^ If I understand him correctly, Sir
Julian would make no distinction here. The result is that
" struggle for existence " said of plants and beasts is not only
poor metaphor; it is also utterly misleading. We must admit
all the same that Darwin made it possible for some people to
to hitch on to a metaphorical sense, which, upon closer analysis,
turns out to be unfelicitous and unscientific; and for others to
allow an extended, large, and yet true meaning. He might have
uiifolded himself a bit more.
Darwin's dilemma 243
(4) Fourthly, we are faced with two paradoxes, which I will
mention briefly. For Sir Julian, Reason ought to be satisfied
with a theory which seeks to explain everything, including
Reason itself, as arising from something which has nothing in
common with Reason, and for a reason no different from the
reason stones fall to earth. Notice the different meanings here
imposed upon this word " reason." It means one thing in " man
is endowed with reason "; it means another in " a man has no
reason to do this rather than that "; and something else again
when we say " the man fell for the reason that he slipped on
a banana peel." Sir Julian does not mean that things occur
for no reason at all; he intends that outside human activity
all things occur aimlessly and are accounted for without in-
voking intelligence behind them. He deserves credit for seeing
that, if purposeful action be held to exist in nature, this can
only be on the supposition that nature is the work of an
intellectual agent — that quodlibet opus naturae est opus ali-
cujus substantiae iyitelligentis — which is precisely what we hold
(let it be immediately added that the difficulty of our position
is not unappreciated by us) . In other words, so far as nature
is concerned, Sir Julian will understand rational to mean no
more than reason in " the reason stones fall "; with the conse-
quence that, compared to human reason or to any other
understanding or intellectual agency, all the things and events
of nature proceed from utter unreason, and for no other than
the reason stones fall to the earth. Human reason itself is
sufficiently accounted for as a product of blind agency. " Ex-
planation," " interpreting," " providing proof " can never be
more than an attempt to show that everything in nature is the
product of aimless " blind forces." Man, then, the avowedly
purposeful agent, came about for no purpose at all. This
unfortunate animal finds itself in the curious position of being
burdened with all the reason or intelligence there is, and with
all the purposeful action there is. He alone has reason, for a
reason which can only be blind .^
* " Natural Selection can determine the direction of change, but has no goal.
244 CHARLES DEKONINCK
Now 1 am all in favor ol' economy in explanation. If the
existence of what Darwin called " good species " (notice his
use of the word " good ") can be accounted for by, say, random
mutations, then random mutations it is. But can these species
be so accounted for.^^ And, by the way, just what does this word
" random " mean.?^ I know what it means in " to throw dice
at random." I deliberately so throw them, just as when I aim
randomly distributed pellets at a duck. In these cases there
is no opposition between randomness and purpose. If the word
must be applied to nature, it will either become a metaphor
or acquire an extended meaning. And what do certain bi-
ologists intend when saying that all species are the product of
random mutations and, in the same breath, that therefore they
are products of mere chance.'^ Does randomness mean the
same as chance.'' * If so, we are imposing a new meaning on
It pushes evolution blindly from behind." Julian Huxley, " Man's Place in Nature,"
in The Destiny of Man (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1959), p. 19. In the
Sunday Times (Feb. 3, 1957) Sir Julian writes: " The real wonder of life is the
fact that the automatic and non-purposeful process of biological evolution should
eventually have generated true purpose in the person of the human species."
* Elsewhere I expressed some difficulty in understanding Sir Julian Huxley's
position in this matter. Take, for instance, the following statement: " Natural
Selection is an ordering principle. It takes the disorderly material provided by
' random ' or ' chance ' variation, builds it up into orderly patterns of organization,
and guides it into ordered paths of change." (" Man's Place in Nature," ed. cit.,
p. 14) As J. W. C. Wand remarks in the same booklet (p. 42) : we believe " that
' the mechanism which directs the course of evolution ' and its ' ordering principle '
are guided by a divine mind to a good and beneficent purpose." Plainly, Sir Julian
sees no need for such a mind. Still, whether or not randomness and chance are for
him the same, whether chance here means pure chance or something less than pure
chance, he indeed insists upon an ordering, guiding principle. Might we, in order to
avoid all suggestion of purpose, take the " ordering " or " guiding " as having the
meaning these words would have when a river-bed is spoken of as channelling, and
as directing and guiding its waters to the sea.'' But the analogy cannot stand. For
the river-bed too, was somehow formed at random (we would say ex necessitate
materiae), and the sea itself, is a random distribution. One ought not to ask Sir
Julian " How do you account for the ordering principle? " for the reply would likely
be " It's just there." No, we are driven back to the monkeys pounding at random.
Now, when they allegedly produce all extant literature, are their random poundings
led to this by an "ordering" and "guiding" principle? Sir Julian must surely
admit that the terms are now vividly out of place. The principle now cannot be
Darwin's dilemma 245
either or both of these terms. Upon what grounds? When we
throw dice at random, we do not know which sides will in fact
turn up, though we know the possible alternatives; when we
aim birdshot at a duck, we do not know which of the pellets
will actually bring it down, though we may be confident that
some of them will do the work. Something is known here, but
there is also something unknown: we are blind as to which
sides of the dice will turn up, or which pellet or pellets will
strike. (Notice that we in fact use the random distribution of
many pellets to compensate for the uncertain course of a single
bullet.) Now there is also something blind about chance or
fortune in human affairs. Socrates did not go to the market
this morning to meet the debtor he had been wanting to meet,
yet he met him all the same, by chance, for he did not know
his debtor would be there. So here too there is blindness.
Could this be the reason randomness and chance are said to be
one and the same.f*
I have dwelt for a few moments on Sir Julian's position —
not irreverently, I hope — merely to point out its paradoxical
nature. Let me add, in all fairness, that whoever holds that
nature does act for the sake of something ought to be aware
of the obvious difficulties of such a position. If it is maintained,
for example, that a bird builds a nest for the sake of offspring
as yet unborn, and does so quite unwittingly, it is after all, far
from obvious how anything that does not as yet exist can
already be a cause — especially in the case of blind agency.
Purposeful activity in nature is also readily oversimplified, and
made to look like the argument concluding et voild pourquoi
voire fille est jnuette; it is obviously good for a man to have
hands, but this does not show how he acquired them. Tele-
anything more than the mere possibility of these particular arrangements of letters,
which just happen to be meaningful. In virtue of what principle is " a million
monkeys " meaningiul, and " the slithy toves " not, if both are arrived at by aim-
less monkeys? Where is the reason why the former and not the latter arrangement
should be judged favorable? Cf. The Hollow Universe (Oxford University Press:
London, 1960), pp. 97-110; "Abstraction from Matter" (III) in Laval theologique
et philosophique, 1960, n. 2, pp. 174-188.
246 CHARLES DEKONINCK
ological mechanisms may help to explain. Meantime, we must
remember that the good was first recognized by Aristotle ^ as
a special kind of cause — the first but most obscure of all causes.
But though it would be foolish to ignore the difficulties which
this doctrine must entail, will it be any less foolish to conclude
that it is therefore unscientific? I fail to see why Natural
Selection must be understood as devoid of purpose, or why
" the struggle for existence " is to be taken as sheer metaphor.
Charles DeKoninck
TJniversite Laval,
Quebec, Canada.
' Plato also considered the good as a cause, but not as a cause sui generis.
^Ttlt
0*0
The Meaning of ' Nature ' in the Aristotelian
Philosophy of Nature
SOINIETIMES there are many things in a word. If such is
the case, it is to the philosopher's advantage to trace
out the relation between the various meanings of a word,
insofar as the later and secondary significations are to be more
fully understood only when seen in the light of a primary im-
position, first and best known to us. The extension of the word
to include further meanings retaining the relationship to this
first and most known can be for the human mind a safeguard
from meaningless abstractions and a reminder of the principles
and trajectory of our knowing. At the same time, if the order
is not seen, the extension can be a source of confusion and
error.
The advantage of bearing this order in mind and the danger
of ignoring it are of particular importance in the case of the
word nature; for although it is one of the most common terms
in philosophy, many of its possible significations have yet to be
explored more fully. The purpose of this article, accordingly, is
twofold: (1) to trace out some of the more important meanings
of this word with a view to determining its particular use in
the Aristotelian and Thomistic philosophy of nature, and (2)
to show that even this particular meaning is continually modi-
fied within the science of nature. Our order of procedure shall
be as follows: I. After a preliminary review of the meanings of
nature given by Aristotle in Book V of his Metaphysics, we
shall turn to his Physics in order to determine more explicitly
which of these meanings are proper to philosophy of nature.
II. Next we shall develop certain implications of the definition
of nature given in the Physics by detailing various ways in
which nature can be taken as either an active or a passive
principle. HI. Finally we shall examine the extended meanings
that the word nature assumes as philosophy of nature is ela-
borated. To my knowledge the possibility of this progressive
247
248 SHEiLAii o'flynn brennan
enlargement of the term nature corresponding to the gradation
of mobile beings in the philosophy of nature has not been con-
sidered: this possibility the present study aims particularly to
investigate.
I
Some Meanings of Natuee
In Book V, Chapter 4, of his Metaphydcs, Aristotle runs
through several meanings of (f)vcrL<;, which in Latin becomes
natura and in English nature. Let us recall them briefly.
1. Taking ^vcrt? to be derived from ^vea-Oai, "to grow,"
Aristotle gives as the first meaning the genesis of growing
things. Hence ^vcn? means the process of a thing's coming into
being by growing from something, as a plant comes into exist-
ence by growing from a seed. In this sense, then, the word is
used for the generation of a living being. — Our English word
nature would not have this meaning, of course, nor does the
Latin natura, though nativitas, the process of birth, does have
a similar signification.
2. Secondly, the word is taken to mean what the growing
being grows from, a source within the growing being.
3. From this second sense is derived a more general meaning
of nature: nature as the intrinsic source, not only of generation,
but of the primary movement (including any type of change)
which is in a natural being by virtue of what it is.
Thereupon, the meaning becomes more determinate, as this
inner source of movement or change is identified:
4. First, with the formless primary stuff, of which a natural
thing consists or out of which it is made. It was in this sense
that the ancient " physicists " called the elements of natural
things their nature.
5. Secondly, with essence or form (ovcrla) , for we cannot say
that those things which are or come to be by nature have their
nature unless they have their form and shape, even though the
matter (that from which they come) is present.
Aristotle then retraces his steps in order to make certain
THE MEANING OF NATURE' 249
precisions: nature is the primary matter, whether this latter
be absolutely first or first only in a certain order; ^ and nature
is the form or essence as well, which is the end of generation. -
6. By " an extension of meaning," finally, any essence
{ovcria) is called nature, whether it be the term of generation
or not, because a nature is one kind of essence. It is in this
sense that we can speak of the nature of a circle or of an
immaterial substance.^
In conclusion, Aristotle makes the point that it is the form
that is primarily and most properly nature, for the matter is
called nature insofar as it is receptive of the form, and genera-
tion and growth are called nature because they are movements
proceeding from it: * " And nature, in this sense, is the source
of movement in natural things, which is in them in some way,
either potentially or actually."
^ The examples given by Aristotle are in keeping with the views of certain of
his predecessors. Thus, for primary matter he gives not his own absolutely
prime matter, but something composite, one or several of the elements; and for the
form he gives — quoting Empedocles — not the substantial form, but the primary
composition of a thing. His purpose obviously was to show that the word nature
was in fact being used for primary matter and for form whatever these might be
understood to be.
' Form, therefore, is a principle of a natural thing as a formal cause and a
principle of generation as a final cause.
* It might be noted in addition that form or essence may be called nature, not
only as an end of generation, but as a source of accidental physical movement or
change, and that this meaning may be extended to include form or essence as
principle of movement in a more common sense, including any operation, even
spiritual. This would give us a more proper sense in which we could speak of the
nature of an immaterial substance, one closer to the original signification than
essence taken simply. In his De Ente et Essentia, St. Thomas gives this extended
sense as one of the meanings of nature (" a thing's essence as ordered to its proper
activity ") and even indicates that this seems to be what Aristotle means by
nature in Metaphysics V, where he says that in a certain sense every substance is
a nature (cf . no. 6, above) .
* The form of the thing to be generated is a principle of generation as the end,
whereas the form of the progenitor is the active principle from which the generation
proceeds, the progenitor being the agent. Generation, of course, implies change
within the progenitor, the latter being a moved mover. As principle of this change,
the form is obviously a source of change in that in which it is and as such can
be taken to be nature. Just how the form of an agent, an active principle moving
another as such, may nevertheless be termed nature, a principle of change within
the changing being, will be discussed in the last footnote of this article.
250 SHEiLAii o'flynn brennan
Such, in brief, is Aristotle's delineations of various meanings
of nature.^ It is to be noted that all the senses except the
last include a relation to movement, and this last Aristotle is
careful to set off from the others by indicating that it involves
" an extension of meaning." Nature, then, is to be seen prin-
cipally as a source of movement in things.
Before proceeding to the Physics, it is of interest to note
St. Thomas' introductory comment upon this chapter of the
Metaphysics: " Though the consideration of [nature] does not
seem to belong to first philosophy, but rather to natural phi-
losophy, [Aristotle] nevertheless distinguishes the meaning of
this word here [in first philosophy] because nature according
to one of its senses is said of every substance." In this passage
Aquinas is obviously referring to the extended meaning of
nature; the other meanings, then, would apparently belong
properly to philosophy of nature.
This is precisely what we find when we turn to the Physics,
Book II, Chapter 1.*' Let us briefly review Aristotle's pro-
cedure: First he points out that things which exist by nature
are seen to differ from artifacts in that the former have within
^ These, of course, are not the only ways in which Aristotle uses the word. For
a comprehensive list of the meanings of <pv<ns in Aristotle, see H. Bonitz, iTidez
Aristotdicus (Graz, 1955) .
" St. Thomas establishes the meaning of nature in philosophy of nature right at
the beginning of his commentary of the Physics. In lesson 1, Bk I of his com-
mentary he shows the subject of the science of nature to be that which depends on
matter for both its being and its definition, as distinct from mathematical en-
tities and the subject of metaphysics. St. Thomas then explains: " Because every-
thing that has matter is mobile, consequently the subject of natural philosophy is
mobile being. For natural philosophy is about natural things, which are those
whose principle is nature. Now nature is the principle of motion and rest in that
in which it is. Natural science, therefore, is about those things which have in
themselves a principle of motion." Natural being is here clearly identified with
mobile being and mobile being with sensible material being. Nature has the
meaning, not of what the thing is or the essence simply, but of principle of
movement or change, such as movement according to place or even of generation.
Movement, inasmuch as it is given as implying matter, is obviously to be understood
in the strict sense, as actus imperfecti, and not according to an extended meaning
which could also include any type of operation, even thought. Otherwise the
natural and mobile being would not necessarily be a material being, as it is explicitly
stated to be, since there are operations which do not presuppose matter.
THE MEANING OF NATURE 251
them a source of movement or change in respect of place or
size or some quality or other, whereas products of art have no
inner tendency to change, except insofar as they are made of a
natural substance. From this he concludes that nature is this
pnnciple or cause of being moved and being at rest in that in
which it is, and he adds by way of precision, iri which it is pri-
marily, in virtue of itself and not accidentally.
This definition, it will be noticed, is the third meaning given
in the Metaphysics, but with certain additions. Nature is de-
fined here not merely as a principle but as a cause as well.
According to St. Thomas, this is to indicate that nature may be
either a passive source (principle) or an active source (cause) .
These two senses of nature will constitute the subject for the
second part of this article; and in the third part we shall con-
sider the word primarily. The words in virtue of itself and not
accidentally, we may note here, are meant to exclude such
intrinsic principles as the art of medicine in virtue of which a
doctor cures himself. The movement of being cured belongs
to the man per se as a patient, not as a doctor; it is only acci-
dentally that the doctor is also the patient.
After defining nature, Aristotle proceeds to make certain
distinctions concerning the use of the word: those things are
said " to have a nature " which have this principle of movement
and they are substances; and both the subject which has its
being from nature and the accidents which are caused by this
nature are said to be natural or according to nature.
Nature is then identified, as it is in the Metaphysics, with
" the first material substratum of all things which have in them-
selves a principle of movement and change "; and then with
the form of these tilings, insofar as " what is potentially flesh or
bone does not have its nature until it receives the form by
which we define what flesh or bone is." Both matter and fonn
are nature but each in a different way, and unequally, since
form is nature even more than matter is: " for a thing is more
properly said to be what it is when it is in act than when it
exists only potentially,"
In the Physics, accordingly, nature is seen to be the form
252 SHEiLAH o'flynn brennan
insofar as a thing does not have its nature unless it has the
form " by which we define what the thing is." This form might
appear to be the essence, taken absolutely, without reference
to movement, unless we bear in mind what has gone before.
For Aristotle not only defined nature as a principle of move-
ment but also stated that those things are said to have a nature
which have this principle. Accordingly, the form must be taken
as nature precisely because, in making the thing to be what it
is, it is the root of its particular activities and its particular
tendencies to change. It is in this sense that the thing would
not have a nature if it did not have a form.
But there is another sense in which the form is nature. The
natural thing is one that is the result of change, the product of
a natural process of becoming (which, according to Aristotle,
was also called ^vo-i?) . The form of a natural being is one that
fulfills a potency of matter, and it was to this form that the
matter tended in the process of generation. The form, then,
as nature, is also an end of movement: " What grows qua
growing grows from something into something. Into what then
does it grow.? . . . Into that to which it tends. The form then
is nature." "^ In time, it is true, the form is at the term of
generation, but, absolutely considered, it is a principle, and a
principle prior to the matter according to the essential order
of things. The form, consequently, whether it be considered as
the origin of activity or as the end of generation, is nature
as a principle of movement. (It can also, of course, be nature
as the active principle in the progenitor jrom which generation
proceeds. But this sense, mentioned in the passage from the
Metaphysics and indicated at least at one point in Chapter 2,
Book n, of the Physics,^ belongs properly to a later stage in
the philosophy of nature, that which deals with the living
natural being as such.)
'Aristotle, Physics, Bk II, ch. 1, 193b 17 et sqq.
* " Man is born from man, but not bed from bed. That is why it is said that
not the shape but the wood is the nature of the bed, for, if the bed sprouted,
not a bed but wood would come up. But if the form is art, so also is the form
nature; for man is born from man." Physics, Bk. II, ch. 1, 193 h 9 et sqq.
THE MEANING OF NATURE' 253
In short, it is as a principle of movement accepted in the
strict sense ^ (movement involving a material substratum)
that nature is identified severally with matter and with form.
Clearly it is not to be taken either as essence, the root of
spiritual operations, or as essence without reference to move-
ment in any sense.^° Nature, in fact, is something proper to
material beings, since all natural beings are mobile beings and
all mobile beings are material beings. In this meaning of
nature, it might be added, we find the basis for distinguishing
between philosophy of nature and metaphysics as to mobility
and immobility, materiality and pure inmiateriality.
n
Nature as Both an Active and a Passive Principle
For a fuller understanding of nature, the various ways in
which it is both an active and a passive principle must be
examined. It has already been indicated that nature can be
both active and passive. Does this division coincide exactly
with the division of nature into matter and form? This might
seem to be the case since in the commentaries of St. Thomas
the passive principle is usually associated with matter or what
is material (piincipium fasdvum et materiale) and the active
with form or what is formal {princvpium activum et formale) }'^
At times, however, St. Thomas identifies the form with a pas-
sive principle as he often does when he speaks of the intrinsic
principle of falling bodies.^" We might be inclined to dismiss
the difiiculty with the distinction that when it is not a question
of living things both form and matter must be included under
' This sense is not the strictest since it includes generation and corruption, as
well as movement taken in the strictest sense involving two positive terms (cf.
Arist., Physics, Y, ch. 1). It is a strict sense in that it excludes operations such
as thought.
^° It could be taken as essence considered as a composite principle of accidental
movements (strict sense). For example, the composite nature of a living being,
including both matter and form, is a principle of growing, more adequate than
either matter or form taken alone.
" Cf. In VII Metaph., lect. 8, n. 1442Z.
^^ Cf., e. g., In II Phys., lect. 1, n. 4.
254 SHEiLAH o'flynn brennan
passive principle, while principium activum et formate would
be reserved for the principle by which a thing moves itself by
itself. But this answer creates difficulties as soon as we observe
that in other places the principle of falling in heavy bodies is
explicitly given not as a passive but as an active principle/^
The solution to this apparent contradiction lies in an ex-
planation of what is meant by active principle. The formal
principle is not necessarily active as in an agent, or in a living
being in which one part moves another. In the passage in
which the fonii of a heavy body is said to be an active principle,
what is meant apparently is not that the form moves the body
as an agent cause or even that it is a principle by which the
body moves itself, but that it is the ever-present source of the
motion — of the activity. In this way, it is distinguished from
a passive, i. e. receptive, principle which requires for the tran-
sition into act the presence of an agent, as when water is
being heated. Even in non-living things, consequently, nature
may be regarded as an active principle, though in living beings
it is active in a special way.
When St. Thomas states, then, that the form of the heavy
body is a passive principle and explains further that the body
is moved rather than moves, his intention in these passages,
evidently, is to distinguish the heavy body from the living
being.^* For though the falling body moves, and moves indeed
without the actual influence of an agent cause, it, nevertheless,
does not move itself in the sense that it is an agent (a mover)
with respect to itself, as is the living being. The mover in the
case of the falling body would be the original maker that pro-
duced the form it has, making it the type of thing it is, with all
its concomitant characteristics, including its tendency to fall
when raised from the ground. ^^
The passive material principle, on the other hand, is a re-
ceptive principle. It is especially prime matter with its appetite
" Cf ., e. g., Contra Gentiles, IV, 97.
" Cf. Arist., Physics, VIII, ch. 4; St. Thomas, In VIII Phys., lect. 8, n. 7, where
jmncipium fossivum is distinguished from the principium motivum aut activum.
^^ Cf . St. Thomas, In II Phys., lect. 1, n. 4.
THE MEANING OF NATURE ^55
for form. We may consider prime matter in general as having
an appetite for form in general, or as the matter in a particular
substance (e. g., an acorn) having an inclination to a deter-
minate form (namely, the form of an oak tree) — the determin-
ation of the appetite being due, of course, to the form possessed
(i.e., the form of the acorn) . But the passive material principle
also includes secondary and accidental principles of receptivity
as in the case of water, which becomes warm when exposed to
fire. Such an accidental passive principle, of course, even
though material (i.e., receptive) , springs as a characteristic
fundamentally from the substantial form just as does the active
(or, if you prefer, passive) formal principle of being drawn
downwards for the stone.
However, a new difficulty now arises, for to say that nature
may be merely a passive potency seems to do away with the
distinction between nature and art. Nature differs from art in
that nature is an intrinsic, art an extrinsic principle. But if this
intrinsic principle that is nature may be no more than a passive
potency, which of course is also required by art, the active
principle being, like art, extrinsic, where would the difference
lie.? St. Thomas saw this difficulty, as is evident in his com-
mentary on Book II of the Physics,^^ where he makes the
precision that in the case of nature this potency must be a
natural potency. In Book VIII, ch. 4, of the Physics Aristotle
distinguishes a violent movement from a natural one by the
fact that the latter is one to which the thing was in potency.
St. Thomas comments: " These things are naturally moved,
when they are moved to their proper acts, to which they are in
potency according to their nature." ^^ " To their proper acts "
implies that these things are not in potency to just any acts
or even to many acts, but to certain determinate acts fixed by
their nature (i. e., by their form, primarily) — to certain per-
fections wherein they find their fulfillment. Implied here is an
order of appetite intrinsic to the things. The passive potency
in the case of nature, then, involves a determinate inclination,
^^ Lectio 1, n. 4. " /ra IX Phys., lect. 8, n. 1.
256 SHEILAH o'flynn brennan
an appetite, not to be found in the passive potency of art. Al-
though the potency in the case of the matter of artificial things
is limited to certain forms (e. g., wood cannot be used in the
making of any and all artifacts) , nevertheless there is no
positive inclination to any form. There is simply a non-repug-
nance. The determination that there is in art must come from
the extrinsic active principle, from the mind of the artist. The
potency itself, in the case of art, is a passive potency only
insofar as there is no repugnance to an act that man wishes to
impose upon it; it is a potency then only in relation to the
human mind, a sort of " obediential potency." The natural
potency, on the other hand, is intrinsically related to an act —
the act also being considered natural, even though in certain
cases it can be supplied only by a non-natural agent.
It was by an application of this principle that St. Thomas
showed the movement of the heavenly bodies to be natural.^^
For although they were moved by forces extrinsic to nature,
the separated intelligences, nevertheless from the point of view
of the passive potency, implying a determinate inclination or
aptitude to circular movement, the movement was said to be
natural. Another application may be seen in the case of evo-
lution. Though the active principle must certainly have been
outside of nature, the whole process would have been natural
from the standpoint of the passive inclination of matter, always
" desiring " as an end the more perfect fulfillment of its potency.
The act conferred was natural, corresponding to a natural
potency, though the power that conferred it was not.^^
It should be noted, moreover, that although the natural
potency in a thing implies an intrinsic order to an act, giving
rise to a relation between an appetite and a good, this good
need not be considered as a perfection of the thing in its own
particular being. Indeed, in the case of non-living things, it
'•"Cf. St. Thomas, Contra Gentiles, HI, 23.
** It might be asked if the active principle in such cases would be an example
of art cooperating with nature. It seems that it would not be — at least not in the
strict sense. Art, it seems, cooperates with nature when it acts in conjunction with
au active principle operating in nature, as is the case with medicine.
THE MEANING OF NATURE 257
is very difficult to determine just what is the good for them.
But it is sometimes a different matter if we look at such things
in the general scheme of the universe. Then their observed
tendencies to certain acts very often appear as contributing to
the order and good of the whole, they are seen within the
framework of the general intention of universal nature. ~° This
was the case even of the heavenly bodies. One could say that
they did not tend to movement as to a perfection for them, but
that such movement was intended by nature for the generation
of rational beings. By such movement they were constituted
in their given role of causes of alteration in the universe. The
tendency known as " gravity " can also be seen as contributing
to a general order. Even the tendency of water to be warmed,
sometimes given by St. Thomas as a simple example of an
intrinsic passive principle of natural movement, could be seen
as contributing to the good of the whole.
To complete the general picture, however, the passive
potency should be seen in relation not only to its act, as we
have been viewing it, but also to the agent which confers the
act. In his commentary on Book VII of the Metaphydcs,^^ St.
Thomas explains natural potencies in terms of forms and
agents: " The difference between the matter of natural things
and the matter of artificial things is that in the matter of
natural things there is a natural aptitude for the form and it
can be reduced to act by a natural agent; this does not happen
in the matter of artificial things." (Italics mine.) Indeed, the
universe may be considered as a whole composed of parts so
interrelated that they are acting upon one another or being
acted upon by one another, so that everything according to its
particular nature is related to something else or to many things
as either patient or agent, or both, though not of course in the
same respect — and all for the good of the universe as a whole.
Thus, to use a simple example, water would be related to both
fire and the north wind as passive, fire and the north wind to
" Nature taken as the whole system of interrelated individual natures.
" Lectio 8, n. 1442Z.
258 SHEiLAH o'flynn brennan
water as active. This does not presuppose a determinate in-
clination in the water either to be warmed or to be cooled,"
but an intrinsic aptitude for either, which, unlike the indifferent
potency in the wood, as the matter of a table, for example,
gives rise to a relationship and order to other things in nature.
The movements resulting from these relations are natural. Art,
on the other hand, would imply an interference, or at least an
intervening in this order by the human intellect, extrinsic to
nature — an intervention, moreover, usually not aimed at the
fulfillment of a natural (i. e., intrinsic) potency .^^
In resume, then, a movement corresponding to an intrinsic
passive inclination to a determinate act as an end and a good
is termed natural, even though the active principle be quite
extrinsic to nature. However, natural movements usually take
place in subjects having a potency to an act which can be sup-
plied by a natural agent; in this case, even when the passive
potency is not a determinate inclination to one act but is rather
an indeterminate inclination to opposite acts, it is still a case
of nature insofar as by these potencies the subject is related
to corresponding agents within nature and the order thus estab-
lished can be seen as fitting into the general scheme of the
universe. The order of appetite and good in the universe as a
whole, then, is what determines whether or not a movement is
natural.
ni
Variations in the Meaning of Nature throughout
THE Study of Nature
Returning now to Aristotle's definition of nature given in
the Physics (Bk. II, ch. 1) , we find that there is a qualifica-
tion that requires further development, the word 'primarily.
And it is with a consideration of this point particularly that
^^ A passive potency in the general scheme of nature can be related to more
than one agent — even to agents producing opposite effects — and therefore it can
be ordered to opposite acts, both of which would be a good for the whole. It is the
active, not the passive, principle, in both animate and inanimate things, that as
nature is determined ad unum.
"" An exception could be made for those arts that cooperate with nature.
THE MEANING OF ' NATURE ' 259
we become aware of a special divergence in the use of the word
nature throughout the philosophy of nature.
In his explanation of this word, St. Thomas says: " Nature
is the principle of the movements of composite things, but not
primarily. Thus the fact that an animal moves downwards
[i.e., falls] does not proceed from the nature of the animal as
animal but from the nature of the dominating element.""^
Nature, then, is a principle primarily of those movements that
belong to things in virtue of what is most fundamental in
them.-'
Nor is this the only instance in which St. Thomas adverts
to this idea. When, for example, Aristotle speaks of generation
as the activity the most natural of all living things, St. Thomas
explains that it is a movement common to all mobile beings,
even to the inanimate. ^*^ Again, St. Thomas, speaking of the
vegetative soul, reserves the term nature for what living and
non-living things have in common: " Now this principle is not
nature. Nature does not move in opposite directions, for all
plants grow not only upwards or downwards, but in both direc-
tions." ■' It seems, then, that in these passages the soul is taken
to be nature only insofar as it is the principle of movements
common to all mobile beings — though in other places of the
De Anima it is clear that the soul as such is regarded as
nature.^^
What is most common, of course, is also what is most funda-
mental in any mobile being; and this, we are saying, is what is
" In II Phys., lect. 1, n. 5.
^* John of St. Thomas takes the word jmmarily to mean that the nature of a
being is not a secondary and instrumental principle, such as an accident would be,
but a fundamental principle, i. e., substantial. That nature must be primary in
this sense is readily evident. St. Thomas, however, seems to see another meaning
in the word jmTnarily.
^* Aristotle, De Anima, II, 4, 415a22 et sqq.; St. Thomas, In II De Anima,
lect. 7, n. 312.
" St. Thomas, In II De Anima, lect. 3, n. 257.
^^ Cf. Aristotle, De Anima, I, 1; St. Thomas, lect. 2, where it is established
that the study of the soul belongs to philosophy of nature insofar as the proper
activities of the soul involve modifications of the body. Also, Aristotle, De Anima,
Bk. II, 4, 415 b 22 et sqq. where the soul is seen as a principle of movement.
260 SHEILAH o'fLYNN BRENNAN
most natural. "'^ This fact is significant especially in the case of
living beings where one can distinguish between various types
of movements, some more fundamental than others. We could
say that movements such as being generated (in a broad sense)
and falling would be more natural than growing, and growing
more natural than sensing, and sensing more natural than
understanding (which is not natural at all in the strict sense
given to natural in the philosophy of nature) .
Now why is it that what is most common and most funda-
mental is also the most natural.? We have said that nature is
a principle of movement in that in which it is. It is therefore
a principle of movement in the mobile — in the moving or move-
able thing. A mobile thing implies potency and passivity. It
does not necessarily involve activity; this is the mark of the
mover. Nature then is intimately related to matter. Though
form is nature more perfectly than matter is, since matter
would not be a principle of movement without its relation to
form, and no being would be a natural being in act were it
not for form; nevertheless, form is nature only insofar as it
determines matter, because otherwise it would not be a princi-
ple of movement at all. Where there is no matter, there is no
nature. And in the measure that form rises above matter it
reaches beyond mere nature, as it becomes, first, a principle not
only of being moved but also of moving, and then a principle
not only of movement but of operations that are not strictly
movements at all.
Let us look more closely at this gradation in natural beings.
One step above the bottom, we have the plants, differentiated
from inanimate things by the vegetative soul. Now, this soul,
like any other, even the human soul, is most fundamentally
^* It must be noted that we are taking nature and natural absolutely. Thus,
absolutely considered, sensing is less natural than growing though relative to the
animal it is more natural, since it is proper to the animal nature and growing is
not. Likewise, understanding and willing are more natural for man than sensing,
though in an absolute sense they are what is least natural in him, if they are
natural at all, and what is most natural of all is anything he has in common with
the lowest thing in nature.
THE MEANING OF NATURE 261
substantial form. As such, it is nature insofar as it was a prin-
ciple in the generation of the thing of which it is the soul and
also insofar as it is the principle of movements, such as falling,
that are natural to mobile beings already constituted. As soul,
in what is proper to it, it is a principle as well of the vegetative
operations. These, it is true, are still movements in the strict
sense, involving activity, passivity and alteration, all in the
strict sense. However, they are movements in which the
living being properly moves itself. The soul, unlike any mere
substantial form, constitutes the being as an agent with re-
spect to itself. It is still nature, insofar as it is a principle of
being moved, intrinsic to the moving being. However as an
active potency, it is a principle of moving rather than of being
moved, and of moving another as such ^° — in fact, the living
being moves itself only inasmuch as one part moves another
part. Thus as an active, motive principle, it has something
different from and more than mere nature.
Then, a more perfect soul, the sentient, is capable not only
of these operations but of sense perception as well, which con-
sidered in itself, is not movement in the strict sense, but an
operation that is an actus perfecti.^^ It is movement in some
sense, however, " a sort of alteration," as Aristotle calls it, for
it involves a transition from potency to act. If the sentient soul
is considered to be nature insofar as it is a principle of move-
ment in a secondary sense, in this respect it can only be nature
according to an extended meaning. On the other hand, sensa-
tion involves movement in the strict sense, insofar as it re-
quires a corporeal organ; and it can result in movement in the
strict sense, since it can arouse the passions which involve
bodily modifications and at times also give rise to locomotion.
Because all these movements are proper to the sentient soul
as such, it too is properly termed nature.
'"Aristotle, Metaph., V, 12, 1019al5 et sqq.; St. Thomas comments: "An active
principle of movement must be in something other than that which is moved." {hi
V Metaph., lect. 14, n. 955.)
'^Aristotle, De Anima, III, 7, 431a6 et sqq.; St. Thomas, In III De Anima, lect.
12, n. 766. Cf. also, De Anima, II, 5; St. Thomas, In II De Anima,, lect. 10 & 11.
262 SHEiLAH o'flynn brennan
Finally, an even more perfect soul, the rational, can be a
principle of intellection which, since it does not require an
organ, does not involve movement at all. It is an actus perjecti
and is called movement only because like sensation it requires
a transition from potency to act. Since the intellectual opera-
tion is no more than metaphorically movement " (or, at least,
movement according to an analogical extension even beyond
that required to include sensation) , the rational soul as its
principle, considered precisely in this way, is nature only in
the same improper (or extended) sense. However, because
the proper operation of the rational soul cannot take place
without the instrumentality of the senses which do involve
movement, the study of this soul, also, belongs to philosophy
of nature. It must be remembered too that there are some
properly human movements that spring from the rational soul
AS such— laughing and talking, for example. What is more, the
soul is an act corresponding to a natural potency, the form of
a natural body. And it is as a rational soul that it is the form
of a particular type of body, a human body. In this respect,
the human soul, even as rational, is properly nature.
Hence, as the form emerges from matter, the thing which it
determines rises above passivity, and then above movement,
and therefore above mere nature also. Not that it loses what
belongs to nature. It has all this and something more. And, in
each case, this something more constitutes what is most proper
to the particular thing, e. g., sensation for the animal, under-
standing for man. In this sense, then, we can say that what
is primary or most fundamental in a thing is also most purely
natural. Indeed, it is what is least perfect in a natural being
that is also what is most fundamental. And this is also what is
most common since in nature the more perfect things always
keep something of the less perfect.
We might note too, incidentally, that as the form rises above
^^ Note that in his commentary on the De Anima, I, lect. 10, n. 160, St. Thomas
says: " In the least proper sense of all, indeed only in a metaphorical sense, is
movement to be found in the intellect." See nn. 157 to 162 for a distinction of
the three kinds of movement found in the soul's activities.
THE MEANING OF NATURE 263
matter, a characteristic of nature, its deterviinatio ad unum,
diminishes in a proportional degree. Because of their material-
ity, both non-living things and plants are limited to one form,
their entitative, natural form. Since one form cannot give
rise to contrary active inclinations, in this way they are deter-
mined ad unmn. Already in plants, however, there is a certain
beginning of indetermination insofar as they can grow up and
down — their growth being not mere local movement but the
development of an organism, a body of heterogeneous parts;
there is a certain spontaneity in that they can adapt themselves
to varying circumstances. Hence St. Thomas's distinction in
his commentary on the De Anirna between nature and the
vegetative soul. As form rises above matter, the thing emerges
from the purely entitative and becomes capable of the inten-
tional. As such it is not limited to its own form. The inclina-
tions of the thing are not merely those springing from its entita-
tive (natural) form but also those that rise from certain ac-
quired forms, its forms of knowledge. An animal can have
now one intentional form, now another, and therefore, can
have now one tendency, now another. Man, however, can
possess intellectually at the same time a form and its opposite.
Hence, precisely as rational, he is above nature insofar as he is
not at all determined ad unum but must determine himself —
and therein, by the way, lies his freedom.^^
To return now to the development in meaning of nature: it
might be observed that the variation is based on the different
senses of two elements in the definition of nature. Nature, it
will be recalled, is defined as a principle of movement in that
in which it is. It is an intnnsic principle and it is a principle of
movement. We have seen that the active principle by which
living beings move themselves is not in every way intrinsic; ^*
'* It is interesting to note that although the plant is more determined in its
operations than the beast and the beast more than man, as to their being the order
is the reverse: man is more determined than the beast and the beast more than
the plant. The more perfect the form the more determined a thing is in its
being and the less determined in its operations.
^* With respect to this " innerness " of nature we might go even further and
264 SHEiLAii o'flynn brennan
furthermore, that the principle of sensation in animals as such
is not a source of movement in the strict sense and the principle
of intellection in men has even less reason to be considered as
a cause of movement. This last extension of meaning, however,
does not coincide with the sense that is broad enough to include
even the essence of immaterial substance as root of spiritual
activity. It is still proper to philosophy of nature, for though
the operation in question as spiritual is not movement, still as
the operation of a form in a body, it must take place in con-
junction with activities that are movements. The rational soul,
as a form in matter, cannot effectually be a principle of under-
standing unless it be at the same time a principle of move-
ment. At this point, however, the extension of the word has
reached a limit beyond which the meaning would no longer be
proper to philosophy of nature.
The word nature, consequently, though it has a sense proper
to philosophy of nature, admits of a wide variety of meanings
even within this science. In the Physics, we have seen, nature
is said most obviously of matter and most properly of form,
but of both insofar as they are principles of movement in the
strict sense. Matter is such a principle by its aptitude for form,
thus implying an inclination to being. Form as fulfilling this
aptitude, and as an end of generation, is also a principle of
movement. Once the natural being is in existence, form is
nature as the active principle of movements necessary for its
preservation in existence and the attainment of its good in
general or of movements contributing to the good of the uni-
consider the active principle of the generating agent relatively to the generated.
Here the active potency is undoubtedly the mover of another. There is a sense,
though, in which even this active principle can be called nature, for although it is
extrinsic to the particular mobile being that is the product of the generation, never-
theless both mover and moved coincide in the same natural species. (Cf. St.
Thomas, In VII Metaph., lect. 6, nn. 1386-1393.) What is more, the universe
could be considered as a whole having heterogeneous parts acting one upon the
other. In this case, the form that constitutes anything as an agent with respect to
something else could be considered as a principle intrinsic to the moving whole
(although extrinsic to the particular thing it moves) and as such could be called
nature.
THE MEANING OF NATURE 265
verse as a whole; and it is the form, too, that accounts for the
particular passive potencies by which a natural being is related
to natural agents, fits into the scheme of the universe and thus
contributes to the good of the whole. As for this whole system
of interrelated active and passive potencies, it too is commonly
called Nature. Then, in the study of the soul and subsequent
treatises, form again is nature, but now as a special type of
active principle by which the living being can move itself.
Finally, the form, as soul, is a principle of various activities,
some more strictly movement than others; and as the meaning
of movement varies, so does the meaning of nature. But from
first to last, nature is considered not as essence, nor even as
principle of operation in the broad sense, but in one way or
another as principle of movement in the strict sense of the term.
Sheilah O'Flynn Brennan
St. Mary's College
Notre Dame, Indiana
ORDER IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE
ORDER is an outstanding characteristic of the man of
wisdom.^ He is a man who has discovered and observed
the due order in his reasoning processes. He has im-
posed a rational order over the acts of his will and emotions.
And he stands in wonderment at the great order of all nature,
an order that he himself has not made, but only contemplates.^
It is the discovery of order — of logos — in the world that impels
him to set up a science of nature by which he will understand
the intelligible necessities and manifold beauties of the uni-
verse that is his home.
As a man of wisdom the philosopher of nature seeks not
only the order inherent in reality itself, but also an order for
investigating that reality.^ For he realizes that not only the
exigencies of the real order, but also those of the order of his
mind will rule the development of his science. When the
natural philosopher is a teacher as well as a searcher for
wisdom, he knows that his exposition will have to be modified
by another order, that required to direct the minds of his
students to the comprehension of the truths amassed by a
long tradition of devoted masters.
No arbitrary plan of investigation nor casual order of treat-
ment will do justice to the science of nature. There must be a
definite order that will be the result of the interplay of several
factors on the science — factors whose demands are essential.
^ St. Thomas Aquinas, In Mctaphysicarn Aristotelis Commenfaria (ed. Cathala)
Proemium; In Decern Libros Etkicorum Aristotelis ad Nichomachum Expositio
(ed. Pirotta), I, 1, n. 1-2; Summa Theologiae, I, 1, 6; I-II, 102, 1; Summa Contra
Gentes, I, 1; II, 24.
^ Cf. St. Thomas, In De Physico Atiditu Aristotelis (ed. Leonina) , VIII, 3, n. 3;
SuTTi. cont. Gent., II, 24.
* " Processus scientiarum est opus rationis, cujus proprium est ordinare; unde in
omni opere rationis ordo aliquis invenitur, secundum quern proceditur ab uno in
jiliud " (St. Thomas, In I De Cado et Mundo [ed. Leonina] Proem., n. 1).
266
ORDER IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE 267
To ignore these will severely blemish the science achieved and
particularly the teaching of that science.
It will be profitable, therefore, to make a synthetic study of
the principles of order governing the philosophy of nature.
Two texts of St. Thomas can serve to introduce the question.
The concept of order includes three elements: first, the idea of
before and after; hence there is order in all those ways by which
one thing can be before another, by place, time, and so forth.
Order also includes distinction, because only distinct things have
any order. But this is rather presupposed than signified by the
word " order." The third element is a principle of order, according
to which order is divided into its species. Hence there is an order
according to place, another according to dignity, and another
according to origin.*
Succession, distinction, and a principle of order: all these
are pertinent to the consideration of order in the philosophy
of nature. St. Thomas elaborates on the principle of order in
the second text:
Order always has reference to some principle. Therefore, since
there are many kinds of principle — namely, according to site, as a
point; according to intellect, as the principle of demonstration;
and according to each individual cause — so there are many kinds
of order.^
It is the order according to intellect that mainly interests us,
because we are here considering the problem of ordering a
science. The principle of that order will in some way coincide
with " the principle of demonstration." Since demonstration
is the means for achieving scientific knowledge, the order within
* " Ordo in ratione sua includit tria, scil. rationem prioris et posterioris; unde
secundum omnes illos modos potest dici esse ordo aliquorum, secundum quos aliquis
altero prius dicitur et secundum locum et secundum tempus et secundum omnia
huiusmodi. Includit etiam distinctionem, quia non est ordo aliquorum nisi distinc-
torum. Sed hoc magis praesupponit nomen ordinis, quam significet. Includit etiam
tertio rationem ordinis, ex qua etiam ordo in speciem contrahitur. Unde unus est
ordo secundum locum, alius secundum dignitatem, alius secundum originem "
(Super Libros Sententiarum, I, d. 20, 3, 1. Cf. Summa Theol., II-II, 26, 1).
° Summa Theol., I, 42, 3, transl. A. Pegis, Basic Writings of Saint Thomas Aquinas
(New York: Random House, 1945).
268 MELVIN A. GLUTZ
natural philosophy will have to conform to the exigencies of
the logical process of demonstration. Among the many require-
ments of demonstration is this one, that the principles of a
demonstration, i. e. the definitions and premises, have to be
foreknown, even reducible to self-evident propositions, so that
the mind may be led from the known to the yet unknown.
The first point of our study will be the order in which the
mind is led from the known to the unknown.
The order of learning ®
The learning process may be likened to the way in which
nature operates a cure. It may do so through its own intrinsic
powers, or it may be helped along by the art of the physician
and the instrumentality of his medicines. By analogy, there are
two ways of acquiring science. " In one way, natural reason
by itself reaches knowledge of unknown things, and this way
is called discovery {inventio) ; in the other way, when someone
else aids the learner's natural reason, and this is called learning
by instruction {disciplina) ." ^ There follows from this a funda-
mental principle of organizing a science. "A similar thing takes
place in acquiring knowledge (scientia) . For the teacher leads
the pupil to knowledge of things he does not know in the same
way that one directs hhnselj through the ^process of discovering
something he does not know." ®
Therefore, the via inventionis and the ordo disciplinae coin-
°L. M. Regis, O. P., Epistemology (New York: Macmillan, 1959), Chap. IV
" The Angehc Doctor's Method." Chap. XII. " Infalhble Knowledge of Mediate
Truth." R. Garrigou-Lagrange, The One God (St. Louis: B. Herder Book Co.,
1943) , " The Method of St. Thomas," pp. 9-26.
'' Truth, 11, 1, transl. J. V. McGlynn, S.J. (Chicago: Henry Regnery Co., 1953).
* Ibid. Italics ours. St. Thomas teaches the same doctrine elsewhere. " Scientia
acquiritur dupliciter: et sine doctrina, per inventionem; et per doctrinam. Docens
igitur hoc modo incipit docere sicut inveniens incipit invenire: offerendo scilicet
considerationi discipuli principia ab eo nota, quia omnis disciplina ex praeexistenti
fit cognitioiie (I Poster., 1, 1; 71a), et ilia principia in conclusiones deducendo; et
proponendo exempla sensibilia, ex quibus in anima discipuli formentur phantasmata
necessaria ad intelligendum " (Contra Gent., II, 75. Cf. Summn Theol., I, 117, 1;
In II De Anima, 11, n. 372; De Spir. Great., a. 9, ad 7) .
ORDER IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE 269
cide from the point of view of order. Is there an ordo doctrinae
that is different from these? Sometimes it is asserted that in
building up a body of scientific knowledge one would use the
order of discovery, but in teaching others the fully achieved
science one would use an inverse order, the order of doctrine.
Such a position would equate the order of doctrine with two
other orders: the order of nature or with the via iudicii.
We shall show that both these identifications are incorrect.
Actually, the ordo doctrinae and the ordo discipUnae coincide.
As St. Thomas wrote at a later period of his life, " The names
' doctrine ' and ' discipline ' pertain to the acquisition of knowl-
edge. For doctrine is the action of him who makes something
known; discipline, however, is the reception of knowledge from
another." ^ The ordo doctrinae is not, therefore, the inverse of
the via inventionis}'^ In fact, ordo doctrinae should be trans-
lated " order of teaching."
Mention has been made of the order of nature or the real
order. What is the relation between this and the order of
learning.f^ At the beginning of his commentary on the Physics
of Aristotle, St. Thomas lays down a principle of learning that
he reiterates many times in his other works. ^^ Our knowledge
starts from what is more known to us and proceeds to things
that are ontologically more perfect and hence more knowable.
We must start from sensible things, lower in the order of nature,
but more accessible to our knowledge; it is through these
sensible things that we ascend to the contemplation of higher
and ultimately of divine things .^^ Moreover, the study of
* Exposition of the Posterior Analytics of Aristotle, transl. Pierre Conway, O. P.
(Quebec: Le Librairie Philosophique M. Doyon, 1956) , I, I, n. 9.
^° Cf . R. Garrigou-Lagrange, La Realisme du Principe de Finalite (Paris: Desclee,
1932) , p. 235; P. Coffey, The Science of Logic (London: Longmans, Green and Co.,
1918), n, pp. 15-16.
"7n I Phys., 1, n. 7-11. Cf. In I Anal. Post., 2, n. 8; In VII Meta., 2, n. 1297-
1305; Summa Theol., I, 85, 5; In De Trin., 6, 1, ad qu. 1.
^' " Cum enim omnis disciplina fiat per ea quae sunt magis nota addiscenti, quern
oportet aliqua praecognoscere ad hoc ut addiscat, oportet disciplinam nostram
procedere per ea quae sunt magis nota quo ad nos, quae sxmt saepe minus nota
secundum naturam, ad ea quae sunt notiora secundum naturam, nobis autem
minus nota" (In VII Meta., 2, n. 1301).
270 MELVIN A. GLUTZ
sensible things is easier than that of immaterial things, and in
teaching and learning, the preferable order is to start with what
is easier/' Thus, the order of learning is the inverse of the order
of nature.
What is to be said of the via iudicii and the order of learning?
As a first approach we may note that St. Thomas opposes the
via iudicii to the via invejitionis,^" the latter of which parallels
the order of learning. The via inventionis is a procedure from
the sensible to self-evident principles and thence to the con-
clusions flowing from them; herein is there a true " discovery "
of truth. The way of judgment is the inverse of this." It con-
sists of resolving or analyzing a mediate truth into its principles.
It verifies and evaluates already acquired knowledge by tracing
conclusions back to self-evident premisses." Thus, in a science,
when there has been a chain of demonstrations one following
from the other, a conclusion can be resolved or analysed back
to first principles by retracing the course of the demonstrations
developed through the via inventionis. The way of judgment
is not then the essential order of learning or of teaching, though
it is secondarily involved in learning and teaching as the process
of verification of demonstrations. The way of judgment, how-
" In V Meta., 1, n. 752; In De Trin., 7, 1, qu. 2, ad 3; In II A7ial. Post., 16, n. 6;
Summa Theol, II-II, 189, 1, ad 4.
"De Veritate, 10, 8, ad 10; 14, 1; 15, 1; 22, 2; Summa Theol., I, 79, 8; 9; I-II,
57, 6; 68 4; II-II, 9, 1.
^* " Cum autem homo per naturalem rationem assentit secundum intellectum
alicui veritati, dupliciter peificitur circa veritatem illam; prime quidera, quia capit
earn; secundo, quia de ea certum iudicium habet " (Summa Theol., II-II, 9, 1).
The references in the preceding note sufficiently describe the way of judgment.
^^ The way of invention, from the point of view of content, proceeds by either
analysis or synthesis, these two terms being used in a variety of ways. However,
from the point of view of the logical process, invention is synthetic: putting together
of a syllogism. The way of judgment analyses or resolves a syllogism into its
elements in order that the intellect may give its assent to the conclusion. On
analysis-synthesis, cf. L.-M. Regis, "Analyse et synthese dans I'oeuvre de saint
Thomas," in Studia Mediaevalia in Ilonorem Admodum Rev. Raymundi Joscphi
Martin (Brugis Flandrorum: De Tempel) ; idem., Epistemology, pp. 422-457; S. E.
Dolan, " Resolution and Composition in Speculative and Practical Discourse,"
Laved Theologique et Philosophique, VI (1950) , 9-62; F. X. Calcagno, Philosophia
Scholostica (Napoli: D'Auria, 1950), I, pp. 216-219.
ORDER IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE 271
ever, may seem to be the order of teaching to those who use
the thesis method in which the conclusion is first presented
authoritatively and then justified. At most, the conclusion
should be presented only as a question, the solution of which
must be arrived at by the way of discovery.
17
Distinction of natural philosojjhy from other sciences
The question of the relation of the real order to the order of
learning raises the problem of the relation of natural philosophy
to other sciences, especially to metaphysics, the queen of the
human sciences. The same material being is known in different
ways by different sciences. If we are to establish order in
natural philosophy, then this science must be distinguished
from metaphysics, theology, and empirical science.^^
In many texts St. Thomas explicitly states that metaphysics
is to be taught after natural philosophy .^^ Metaphysics is, in
fact, the last of the sciences to be learned, the queen of human
sciences, the culmination of human wisdom, ancillary to none
but supernatural theology. Natural philosophy and meta-
physics are distinct sciences, each with its proper principles.
Natural philosophy uses proofs with middle terms that contain
common sensory matter in their definitions. Metaphysics uses
concepts that are negatively immaterial, that is, containing no
matter in their definitions, but able to be existentially realized
either in matter or apart from matter. Two sciences proceeding
according to such distinct manners of conceptualization are at
different levels of intelligibility and point up different degrees of
necessity in their objects. They are thus irreducibly distinct.^"
^^ The above distinction between invention and judgment is not the same as the
distinction between inventive logic (largely dialectics) and judicative logic, which
is concerned with the matter and form of the demonstrative syllogism. Cf. In I
Anal. Post., 1, n. 6.
^* " Ordo absque distinctione non est. Unde ubi non est distinctio secundum rem,
sed solum secundum moduni intelligendi, ibi non potest esse ordo nisi secundum
modum intelligendi '' (De Pot., 10, 3) .
'" In III Sent., d. 35, I, 2, 3; In VI Ethic, 7, n. 1209-1211; In Librum de Causis,
1; In De Trin., 6, 1.
^"/re / Anal. Post., 41; In De Trin., 5, 1; Summa Theol., I, 85, 1, ad 2.
272 MELVIN A. GLUTZ
Nevertheless, there are close and necessary relations between
the two sciences. Natural philosophy is preparatory to meta-
physics,"^ It acquaints the learner with many concepts existing
in material reality, but able to be extended to a metaphysical
plane. Notions such as substance and accident, potency and
act, cause and effect are metaphysical concepts, commensurate
with being as such; but they are used and studied in natural
philosophy insofar as they apply to its subject.^^ After be-
coming acquainted with them at the level of sensory matter,
where they are relatively easy to grasp, a student can more
conveniently understand them in their metaphysical context.
Natural philosophy is preparatory to metaphysics also because
it proves the existence of immaterial being, without which
metaphysics would have no formal subject and thus would
yield its primacy to natural philosophy.^^
Even though metaphysics comes later in the order of learning,
it is first in the order of nature and dignity.^* Therefore, it gives
an extrinsic guidance to natural philosophy, a guidance that
the beginner will scarcely realize or one which he will have to
take on authority. Moreover, the defense of the principles of
natural philosophy is the function of metaphysics. It is the
metaphysician who justifies the validity of our knowledge and
who critically investigates the common principles that other
sciences borrow and use."^
This brief discussion of the relation of the two sciences should
suffice to justify a few practical points pertinent to our present
study. Due order requires that purely metaphysical questions
be eliminated from natural philosophy. Relevant examples
would be such topics as creation, pantheism, eternity, the glory
of God as final cause of the universe. The immortality of the
"/wDe Trin., 5, 1, ad 9.
"/re IV Meta., 5, n. 591; XI, 4, n. 2206-2210; In II Phys., 5, n. 360.
"* We have studied elsewhere the relation of natural philosophy and metaphysics:
" The Formal Subject of Metaphysics," The Thomist, XIX (1956) , 59-74; " Being
and Metaphysics," The Modern Schoolrnan, XXXV (1958) , 271-285.
^* In De Trin., loc. dt.
"' Ibid.; In IV Meta., 5, n. 590-591.
ORDER IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE 273
human soul must not be treated metaphysically in natural
philosophy; the proof, in order to be physical, must rest on the
intrinsic incorruptibility of the soul. The de facto question of
the immortality of the soul, proved from the wisdom and
goodness of God, must be saved for metaphysics, or at most
must be presented in natural philosophy in dialectical status.
The origin of the soul and its status after death are questions
raised in natural philosophy, but which are unable to be settled
by the principles of natural philosophy; the metaphysical light
is necessary .^^ Natural philosophy must always present its
proofs on the basis of its own principles. Positions should not
be held because of metaphysical repercussions, but proofs
should be constructed by the intellectual processing of sensory
data in the light of properly physical principles. Metaphysical
proofs can be accepted only as dialectical in the lower science.
It is true that metaphysics casts a fuller light over the world
of nature; it gives the ultimate reasons for the truths discovered
by the physicist. But the distinction necessary for highlighting
the true nature and order of natural philosophy demands that
metaphysical insights be presented in the status of footnotes
or appendices, which are accepted, not as apodictic, but as
dialectical, until they can be seen in their proper perspective
within the science of metaphysics.
Even more important, it is necessary that teachers effectively
shake off the Wolff-Leibnizian influence and discontinue pre-
senting natural philosophy as an application of metaphysics.
^* " Sed quomodo se habeant formae totaliter a materiae separatae, et quid sint,
vel etiam quomodo se habeat haec forma, idest aniina rationalis, secundum quod est
separabilis et sine corpore existere potens, et quid sit secundum suam essentiam
separabile, hoc determinare pertinet ad philosophum primum " (In II Phys., 4,
n. 10. Cf. In De Sensu et Senato, 1, n. 4; 2, n. 317; In III De Anima, 12, n. 785).
Just as the above-mentioned questions should be removed from natural philosophy,
so it would seem that the discussion of the final natural end of man belongs to
natural philosophy. Every science treats the principles, causes, and properties of its
subject (In Meta., Proem) . The final end of man is determined by nature (In III
Ethic., 13, n. 524; VI, 2, n. 1131). It is the ultimate term of the natural motion of
desire (Ibid., I, 9, n. 197). Ethics borrows from natural philosophy the doctrines
of man's nature and end; it is, therefore, subalternated to natural philosophy.
274 MELVIN A. GLUTZ
Often the doctrine of hylomorphism, for instance, is treated
as an application of the metaphysical doctrine of potency and
act to material things, which implies a genetic primacy of
metaphysics over natural philosophy. The presentation of
natural philosophy before metaphysics is important for all
who would give a synthetic picture of Thomism, even for those
historians who claim to describe the philosophical doctrine of
St. Thomas, rather than his theology.
It is equally essential to distinguish natural philosophy from
theology. There is no theoretical difficulty to this. But some-
times the theological interest of authors impels them to give
undue prominence to problems that have theological import,
even to treat theological matters in philosophy, such as the
manner of the Eucharistic presence of our Lord and the possi-
bility of miracles. The due order and proportion of natural
philosophy require footnote status for strictly theological prob-
lems, no matter how worthy or interesting they may be in
themselves. Special caution must be exercised in taking proofs
bodily from St. Thomas' theological writings and using them
uncritically in natural philosophy. The theological light, or per-
haps a metaphysical orientation, may make a given proof incom-
patible with the proper method of natural philosophy. Extra-
contentual arguments are a disservice to natural philosophy.
Another clarification is necessary for the purposes of keeping
due order in natural philosophy. What is the relation between
natural philosophy and modern empirical science .f* This is not
the place to treat this question ex professo, but we may lay
down a few propositions. Natural philosophy must not be
content with mere generalities; it must extend its investigations
into the realm of the specific. At its general stage it is still
confused knowledge awaiting further actualization. It must
apply its light to the whole cosmos and to all its parts. The
human drive for understanding will not be satisfied with less.^^
Modern science's monopoly of detailed phenomena causes
-'Cf. In I Meteorologicorum, I, n. 1; R. J. Nogar, O. P., "Cosmology without a
Cosmos," in From An Abundant Spring (New York: Kenedy, 1952), pp. 363-392.
ORDER IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE 275
at least an overlapping, if not a real conflict. A partial resolu-
tion is certainly possible. Insofar as empirical science is factual,
its data are required as preliminary to causal demonstration
at the various levels of natural philosophy, for a rich experience
is prerequisite to natural philosophy. Insofar as empirical
science is mathematicized, it is a scientia media distinct from
natural philosophy.-^ But if mathematics is used as an instru-
ment for the investigation of facts, and if the facts have thereby
been certainly established, they may be taken over by the
natural philosopher and demonstrated in the light of his
proper principles. From this point of view, mathematicized
science is instrumental to philosophy.^® Insofar as modern
science is hypothetical, its relations with natural philosophy
can be only on the level of a dialectical continuation of phi-
losophy. At this stage of modern science we can argue that
there is a de facto influence of philosophy upon the scientist,
whether it be mechanism, logical positivism, or — are we ana-
thema for suggesting a desideratum^ — Thomism. At least, if
nature is to be understood, rather than merely catalogued or
used, then natural philosophy must shed its light even into the
dark corners of scientific theory .^°
One point is most noteworthy. Natural philosophy does not
depend on scientific theory, but rather vice versa. The doctrine
of hylomorphism, for instance, is not built on the shifting sands
of scientific theory. Aristotle elaborated his doctrine long ago
on the basis of common observation. The discoveries and
theories of the passing centuries have not overturned that
doctrine, but rather look to it to introduce intelligibility and
order into the confused maze of modern facts and theories. ^^
^* In De Trin., 5, 3, ad 6.
'* In I De Coelo, 3, n. 6.
^^ We have studied the relevance of these principles to the science of psychology
in "Toward an Integrated Psychology," Proceedings of the American Catholic
Philosophical Association (1958), 139-148.
^^ " It is enough for us to remark that rectitude of conscience in scientific research
has led modern thought to the threshold of the only philosophy which can give a
reasonable interpretation of the results obtained by experimentation. . . . The
theory of matter and form, of potency and act, is capable of illuminating the
276 MELVIN A. GLUTZ
Obviously, the order intrinsic to natural philosophy demands
full clarity on the distinctions and relations obtaining between
it and empirical science.
Internal order of natural philosophy
Once we have ordered natural philosophy in the sense of
distinguishing it from other sciences, we may turn our inves-
tigation to its own intrinsic order. In this we have the assis-
tance of St. Thomas in the various prooemia to his commen-
taries on the works of Aristotle.
First, we must make a necessary distinction between the
order of demonstration and the order of definition. A number of
books on natural philosophy so divide their matter as to treat
first of the properties of natural being: motion, quantity, time,
and place; then as a culmination of that part of natural phi-
losophy widely called " cosmology," comes a study of the
nature of material bodies, a determination of the first principles,
matter and form. The study of the properties is presented,
explicitly or implicitly, as part of the inductive search for the
definition of bodies through their first principles.
Such a process, however, does not do justice to the logical
doctrine of demonstration. It is propter quid demonstration
that yields strictly scientific knowledge. The theoretical dis-
cussions among scholastics on the principles of division of
sciences presuppose the Aristotelian and classical Thomistic
concept of science. Scientific knowledge, in this precise and
technical sense of the word, is not merely a collection of facts
nor inductive searches ending in definitions. It consists of
demonstrating attributes, whether properties or causes, through
the use of middle terms that are both definitions of the subject
and proper causes of the attributes. There would be no reason
requirements of modern science with a light which closely agrees with the results
of experimentation. ... It is easy to catch a glimpse of the great usefulness which
so profound a philosophy can have in aiding science to clarify the problems of
nature " (" The Perennial Philosophy and Modem Science," Address of Pope Pius
XIl to the Intenational Thomistic Congress, September 14, 1955). The Pope Speaks,
II (1955), 220-221.
ORDER IN XHE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE 277
for distinguishing sciences according to the manner of concep-
tualizing the subject {obiectum jormale sub quo) , if the defi-
nition of the subject were the terminal point of the science,
rather than the starting point. The definition is rather the
very light that reveals the necessary connection of the attri-
butes with the subject. The definition must be predicated of
the subject in the minor premiss of a propter quid demonstra-
tion; it must be shown as the proper cause of the attribute in
the major premiss. The knowledge of both these premisses is
prior to the drawing of the scientific conclusion .^^ Therefore,
the study of the principles of natural being must come at the
beginning of natural philosophy .^^
The order of procedure intrinsic to natural philosophy is set
out at the beginning of the Physics and of St. Thomas' com-
mentary on it. We must start with the general characteristics
of material beings and later proceed to their specific notes.^*
A reason of pedagogical convenience is given for this: otherwise
it would be necessary to repeat these truths many times while
treating the particular manifestations of them.^^ There is also
a proper reason for this procedure from general to particular.
A thing is knowable according to its separation from matter;
this is the principle for the specification of sciences. Even
within a science the same principle holds for the division of
parts .^"^ We advance in the scale of knowledge insofar as we
transcend potency and make manifest more actual notes; in
other words, we proceed from confused to distinct concepts.
The more general concepts are more potential; the specific are
more actual. Therefore, in natural science we must start with
the study of mobile being in general, with its principles, causes
and properties. Later, by a process of concretion or application,
^^ Cf. M. Glutz, C.P., The Manner of Demonstrating in Natural Philosophy
(River Forest, Illinois: 1956) .
^^In I Anal. Post., 41, n. 9. Cf. Wm. H. Kane, O. P., "The Nature and Extent
of Natural Philosophy," The Neio Scholasticism, XXXI (1957) , 85-97.
^'In I Phys., I, n. 5.
^'^ Aristotle, Parts of Animals, 1, 1, 639al5-b7.
^® In De Sensu et Sensato, 1 ,n. 2.
278 MELVIN A. GLUTZ
we treat those mobile beings that are the proper subjects of
specific types of change.'' The same process of concretion is
used in the special branches of the science, e.g. psychology
treats living beings first in general, then in particular. At each
stage of concretion we must assign the commensurate prin-
ciples, causes, and properties. The further we proceed in con-
cretion, the more difficult it becomes to demonstrate facts
causally, although quite often the final cause of phenomena
will be apparent, and from it we can " trace the links of
causation." '^
Order to the minds of students
We have discussed order in natural philosophy from the
aspect of distinction and priority. Now we must investigate
it from the aspect of relation to the student.
A science is a body of knowledge that is intended to be
communicated to others. It is significant that the word " doc-
trine," which, when used substantively, signifies a body of
truths, comes from the word " to teach." The exposition of the
philosophy of nature can never abstract from this ordination
to the minds of other men, and so the internal order of the
science must necessarily envision some audience, whether be-
giners, graduates, or specialists. We shall confine ourselves to
considering natural philosophy in relation to the undergraduate
student.
The most important fact about the undergraduate is that
he is a beginner in philosophy. He is struggling through a new
and strange terrain. His insights are superficial; his knowledge
^^ G. J. McMahon, S. J., The Order of Procedure in the Philosophy of Nature
(Quebec: La Librairie Philosophique M. Doyon, 1958) Chap. 5-7; C. DeKoninck,
" Introduction a I'etude de I'ame " in S. Cantin, Precis de psychologie thoiniste
(Laval University, 1948) pp. xlvi-xlvii, and in Laval Theologique et Philosophique,
III (1947) 9-65.
** Aristotle, Parts of Animals, 1, 5, 645al0 The first book of this work gives a
summary of the method to be pursued in studying the various types of animal life
from the general to the specific. 645bl-646a6 show how demonstrations are to be
given in terms of final causes.
ORDER IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE 279
is often largely a memorizing of formulae. He must be helped
by his teacher to understanding, and this with the aid of a text
book that features clarity of exposition. The undergraduate
is not yet prepared for delving into ancient sources; at least,
he cannot use the works of Aristotle and the commentaries of
St. Thomas in place of a text book. These are for more
advanced students. Moreover, these ancient treatises, valuable
as they are in themselves, are not adapted to the modem
student, who has had some amount of modern science before
coming to the study of philosophy. Our exposition of natural
philosophy must take cognizance of modern science, even
though philosophy is not founded on scientific theory. We
must also give at least bowing recognition to the many com-
peting theories for each thesis in the philosophy of nature, even
though they may sometimes be little more than historical
oddities.
All learning proceeds from previously acquired knowledge.
This knowledge not only is a starting point; it also conditions
the acquisition of further doctrine. Because of his previous
education a student very easily slips into mechanistic modes
of thought. The concept of formal causality may come hard
to him. Analogical concepts may be frustrating. The student
must be gently led into the philosophical mode of thinking.
Many examples of formal and final causality must be given
him so that his concepts will be clear and deep. A well-ordered
exposition of the philosophy of nature must satisfy this need
of the modern student.
The presentation of topics within natural philosophy must
not be given in a cut and dried thesis method. The natural
relation between a human mind and a not-understood fact of
nature is expressed in wonderment. As wonderment initiated
the science of philosophy among the early Greeks, so too it
will stimulate the individual mind to true philosophical inquiry.
The order of a science consists in the progress from wonder-
ment to its contrary, the understanding of causes. ^^ Hence it is
^' Cf In I Meta, 3, n. 66.
280 MELVIN A. GLUTZ
necessary to arouse this state in the minds of students by
presenting the topics of natural philosophy as questions, the
aporia of Aristotle. These questions are hedged in by doubts,
and it is only in resolving the doubts in the light of certainly
established definitions and demonstrations that the mind comes
to rest. Proper order demands that the questions and doubts
be first proposed. *° The thesis method is not well adapted for
the first imparting of knowledge, but rather for remembering,
reviewing, and for disputing.
The nature of the student's mind demands that a hunt be
made for all definitions. Definitions have value only when
one understands how they have been acquired and through
what kind of defining principles they are stated. Merely to
state them without justifying them is equivalent to an appeal
to authority. To state the definition and then to justify its
elements is to proceed in reverse order. To define after an
inadequate preparation for the definition is to play the midwife
to a puny and scrawny brainchild, as Socrates would put it.
We can learn a valuable lesson by observing St. Thomas pains-
takingly proceeding through three or four articles before finally
stating their outcome in a definition.
The core of science is the propter quid demonstration. All
else in the science, observations of facts, definitions, quia
demonstrations, hypotheses and other dialectical material are
all ordered to propter quid demonstration. This order must be
made evident to the student. He must be shown how all hinges
on the first principles of science and how one demonstration
follows upon another. Particularly, he must be able to evaluate
the type of demonstration and to situate it in the context of
the whole science. It must be admitted that one looks far and
wide before he finds philosophy books that make use of the doc-
trine of demontration as proposed in the logic texts. The nature
of the science itself demands this structure, and its order to the
minds of the students requires that the methodology be empha-
*" This is, of course, the method of St. Thomas in the Quaestiones Di^putatae and
in the Summa Theologiae. Cf. R. Garrigou-Langrange, The One God, pp. 9-26.
ORDER IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE 281
sized, both in its abstract principles and in its concrete
application. Only thus will students be led to philosophic
wisdom.
It is wisdom that we intend to give our students. Even the
meager participation of full human wisdom which the phi-
losophy of nature gives is of great value.^^ Such wisdom is
communicated to students through a twofold process on the
part of the teacher, information and formation. The teacher
is interested in teaching the students to think for themselves,
to acquire firm habits of correct reasoning, to achieve personal
insights, to understand rather than to memorize formulae.
This formation is given, not by abstract exercises, but through
a process of information wherein the student assimilates the
wisdom of the ages, the fruits of a rich tradition. There can
be no question of wasting time by letting untrained students
try to discover for themselves the wisdom that it took more
than twenty centuries to acquire. A realistic ordination of
natural philosophy to the minds of undergraduate students will
emphasize information by which minds will come into posession
of the basic doctrines of the science. But if natural philosophy
is presented with correct order, the cherished goal of formation
will be achieved in and through the process of information.
Order, then, is the key-word to the correct presentation of
the philosophy of nature. Definite order is required by the
nature of the human mind and its goal of science. Order is
existent in physical reality and imposes itself on the science
of that reality. The minds of students of philosophy, condi-
tioned by special modes of receptivity, require a particular
ordination of natural philosophy to their own degree of develop-
ment. We may say, by analogy, that order is the soul of the
universe, " the form that knits the whole world," *- The con-
templation of this order in the science of nature will elevate
" Cf. Contra Gent., II, 1-4.
*^ Dante, The Divine Comedy, Paradise, Canto 33, 1.92, transl. Lawrence Binyon
(New York, The Viking Press, 1947) . Cf. Contra. Gent., II, 39; III, 97.
i282 MELVIN A. GLUTZ
our minds and hearts, according to the beautiful words of
Dante:
The Power primordial and ineffable
Made with such order all that circling speeds
Through mind or space, that he who looks on it
Cannot but taste Him, as thereon he feeds.^^
Melvin a. Glutz, C.P.
Immaculate Conception Monastery
Chicago, Illinois.
Ibid., Canto 10, 1 3-6.
MOTIONLESS MOTION
SOME years ago a modern mathematician who had at
that time become interested in AristoteHan-Thomistic
philosophy asked me if it would be possible to employ
symbolic logic to set forth the proofs for the existence of God.
In the attempt to show him that the difficulties in these proofs
derived from something other than their logical form, I dis-
covered that most of the terms I was using meant something
quite different for him. This was particularly true of the term
" motion." I, of course, was referring to actus entis in potentia
inquantum huiusmodi. When I tried to show him how this
notion required an analysis of matter, form, and privation he
expressed typical Cartesian astonishment. In the discussion
which followed he referred to an idea of motion by a neo-
Kantian which he said fairly well expressed his own concept
of motion:
All determination of place ... is a work of the mind: omnis
locatio mentis est opus. From this point the way is open to Galileo's
foundation of dynamics: for since place has ceased to be something
real, the question as to the ground of the place of a body and the
ground of its persistence in one and the same place disappears.
Objective physical reality passes from place to change of place, to
motion and the factors by which it is determined as magnitude.
If such a determination is to be possible in a definite way, the
identity and permanence, which were hitherto ascribed to mere
place, must go over to motion; motion must possess ' being,' that is,
from the standpoint of the physicist, numerical constancy. This
demand for the numerical constancy of motion itself finds its
expression and its realization in the law of inertia.^
He also was of the opinion that quite a number of the modern
scientists and philosophers would agree, at least in general,
with this idea of motion. I was inclined to agree with him on
^ Ernst Cassirer, Substance and Function (La Salle, Illinois: Open Court Pub-
lishing Company, 1923) , p. 362.
283
284 ROMAN A. KOCOUREK
the latter point but on the first one I had to say that such
motion was " motionless " and that only by using the concept
developed by Aristotle could we arrive at the prima via.
Furthermore, while admitting that motion as conceived by
modern science has a certain validity in the explanations of
the mathematical physicist, I said that to attempt to make
this the basis of any kind of a complete explanation of the
ultimate principles of the universe could lead to a very un-
acceptable philosophy. I do not recall whether my mathe-
matician friend was convinced or not. In the present paper
I would like to elaborate some of these notions.
Cassirer himself, in his Substance and Function, attempts to
make this idea of " motionless motion " the basis of a new
explanation which will replace that of Aristotle. In the first
chapter he shows how the new developments in logic must
necessarily replace the logic of the Philosopher, founded as the
latter was an a now out-moded metaphysics. His conception
of the Greek synthesis in his analysis of the problem of knowl-
edge shows his appreciation of the work of both Plato and
Aristotle:
There is no denying that Plato shaped his conception of knowledge
on the pattern of mathematics, and his theory of ideas not only
owes separate fundamental insights to mathematics but is deter-
mined throughout its whole structure by this science. On the other
hand, his theory far transcends whatever Greek mathematics could
present in the way of stable results, and Plato seems to have given
to the mathematics of his time much more than he took from
it. . . .
What Plato had done for mathematics, Aristotle did for biology.
Not only did he conceive of it as a self-contained whole; he was
the first to provide a conceptual language for its separate parts. . . ?
What he has in mind here is shown in the rest of his Intro-
duction to this work. He shows how the work of Descartes,
Leibniz, and Kant has discovered a new basis for the interpre-
tation of Nature. As he says:
" E. Cassirer, The Problem of Knowledge (New Haven: Yale University Press,
1950), p. 12.
MOTIONLESS MOTION 285
The Renaissance proved itself in very truth a new birth, in that
it not only revived the various philosophical theories of antiquity
but also recovered the spirit by which they had been created. The
first centuries of the Renaissance were content in general to tie up
with some doctrine or other. But so long as they sought to establish
anew the Platonic, the Aristotelian, the Stoic, the Epicurean, and
the Skeptic systems, all these remained mere heirlooms of which
it was impossible to take complete possession. Descartes, precisely
because of his unhistorical temper, was the first to succeed in the
historic act of liberation. For he never merely took over conclu-
sions but reembodied in himself the original power of philosophical
thinking. He filled all science with this power and he thereby
discovered a new universal form of science, and the Cartesian
method and the Cartesian system are but the discovery of science
and establishment of this new form.^
That this new approach to science will result in a new "on-
tology " is shown by his appreciation of the Greek synthesis in
the very beginning of this work where he says:
The more deeply reason is absorbed in its own being, and the more
conscious it becomes of its own true worth, the further it penetrates
into the Being of things. For there is no sharp line that separates
truth from reality, thought from Being. This fundamental meaning
of Greek philosophy is fully realized in Plato. With him the
problem of being and the problem of knowledge, ' ontology ' and
' logic ', are bound together in indissoluble unity.
That this analysis of the Greek achievement has some basis
in fact would be generally admitted. However, in order to see
its lacunae more precisely, some further comparison with the
Aristotelian " synthesis " will be necessary. We might begin
with the problem of being or " ontology."
Aristotle studied being in the science which is today often
referred to as " metaphysics." He called this " first philosophy,"
" theology," and sometimes " the divine science." In his con-
ception of this discipline there were at least two very important
aspects: it is a science, and the knowledge of it is in some way
above the capacity of the human intellect. When he referred
to it as a science he was speaking in terms of the ideas estab-
^ Ibid., p. 13.
286 ROMAN A. KOCOUREK
lished in the Posterior Analytics. He held that there is a kind
of knowledge in which the human intellect, starting from prin-
ciples which it grasps with certitude, is able to arrive at true
and certain conclusions. When the syllogism of the Prior
Analytics is employed in this way the result is a demonstration,
the knowledge is science. We attain this knowledge most easily
and often in mathematics. It is found in other disciplines but
with greater difficulty. One study that presented problems
to this kind of analysis was the science of Nature, another was
the science of being or first philosophy.
Heraclitus had said that " Nature loves to hide." Aristotle
was able to show more clearly why this is so. He discovered
that the objects studied in this science contained an inherent
lack of intelligibility. For this reason the student will some-
times be forced to content himself with an inductive argument
which will show that a proposition is true without giving a
scientific reason. At other times he must use an argument
from analogy. Science in the meaning given that term in the
Posterior Analytics will be very difficult to arrive at in this
discipline. Still, Aristotle was convinced that only by building
on the ideas laboriously worked out in the science of Nature
would the human intellect be able to come to a knowledge of
the objects of first philosophy. Here, as Cajetan might say,
is something which seems to have escaped the notice of many
modern followers of the Philosopher. There are many today
who teach that motion is actus entis in potentia inquantum
hulusmodi. There are not so many who, after presenting this
notion, go on to explain it along with its properties, time and
place, and its kinds, both quantitative and qualitative. There
are even fewer who, after having done this much, go on to speak
of first motions and first movers. Many teachers today are of
the opinion that this part of Aristotle's Physics is hopelessly
tied to the out-dated cosmogony of Greek science. This makes
it easy for them to ignore totally all the other physical works,
with the possible exception of his De Anima. Even with this
last named work there are only a very few teachers who are
MOTIONLESS MOTION 287
not prepared to use St. Thomas' Summa Theologiae in place of
the more natural exposition of these principles. However, while
there are only a few who give much more than lip service to
Aristotle's treatment of Nature today, the number of those
who stand ready to expound his metaphysics or first philosophy
is legion. Some even go further and, with the vague and
ambiguous notions of metaphysical principles derived from such
an anti-Aristotelian procedure, attempt to find out how things
are in Nature. This is truly an attempt to proceed from the
unknown to the known. Swift's comment on these disciples is
apt:
Having a desire to see those ancients, who were most renowned
for wit and learning, I set apart one day on purpose. I proposed
that Homer and Aristotle might appear at the head of all their
commentators; but these were so numerous, that some hundreds
were forced to attend in the court and outward rooms of the palace.
I knew, and could distinguish those two heroes at first sight, not
only from the crowd, but from each other. Homer was the taller
and comelier person of the two, walked very erect for one of his
age, and his eyes were the most quick and piercing I ever beheld.
Aristotle stooped much, and made use of a staff. His visage was
meager, his hair lank and thin, and his voice hollow. I soon dis-
covered, that both of them were perfect strangers to the rest of the
company, and had never seen or heard of them before. And I had
a whisper from a ghost, who shall be nameless, that these commen-
tators always kept in the most distant quarter from their principals
in the lower world, through a consciousness of shame and guilt,
because they had so horribly misrepresented the meaning of those
authors to posterity. . . . But Aristotle was out of all patience
with the account I gave him of Scotus and Ramus, as I presented
them to him; and he asked them whether the rest of the tribe
were as great dunces as themselves.*
In the study of Being the human intellect also finds diffi-
culties, according to Aristotle. The obstacle here is not matter
and its basic unintelligibility, as it was in the science of Nature.
Rather the very intelligibility of the object studied here so far
exceeds man's nature that our intellect looking at these objects
* Jonathan Swift, Gullivers Travels, Part III, ch. VIH.
288 ROMAN A. KOCOUREK
is " like the eyes of the owl when in the light of day." The
Greeks in general, and Aristotle in particular, were very con-
scious of the fact that while man has an intellect there are
other intellects in the universe. What is more, they were quite
thoroughly convinced that the human intellect was the weakest
of all. It is, I think, a tribute to the Greek genius, especially
as it was realized in Aristotle, that it was able, by capitalizing
on its very inadequacies, in some way to overcome its inherent
limitations. Thus Aristotle showed that a science of first phi-
losophy could be attained if it is begun on the basis of sound
doctrine in the study of Nature. That this meant for him not
only a study of the very general principles but also an analysis
which would extend to the very elements of which things are
composed, is well brought out by the commentator on the
Meteorology of Aristotle.
It must be considered that the science of this book, and likewise
of all natural science, should not be despised by man. In fact, he
who despises it despises himself. And, although many say that
natural science should not be prized because it has no utility in
the study of divine things, in which the most blessed life and the
happiness of man consists, as the Philosopher says in X Ethics,
still these men deceive themselves. Not only the science of this
book, but also the whole of natural science, where we consider both
the common things and those particular and proper to each part,
is ordered to the study of divine things. This is because we arrive
at a knowledge of the causes through the manifest and natural
things which are as effects. This is why the Philosopher in the
Metaphysics begins with sensible substances and in the twelfth
book proves the nature of separated substances through argu-
ments drawn from astronomy.^
Thus, while the study of being is in some way above the
capacities of man, it is this very difficulty which makes it
appropriate as an ultimate end. In the Greek ideal, man's
aspirations could only be satisfied in the contemplation of
things which would in at least a limited way carry him beyond
his changing, sensible existence. In the Ethics and Politics
^Anon. in Opera Omnia of St. Thomas, In IV Meteor., lect. 1, n. 2.
MOTIONLESS MOTION 289
Aristotle works out a modus Vivendi by which man, or at least
some men, could arrive at an end of this sort. In the last part
of the Politics he speaks of a speculative life for the whole
society whereby all citizens would participate in some way in
this " divine " life. This life would be realized most completely
in the philosophers. However, even these latter would attain
only a participation in that more perfect life which exists in
the separated intelligences. The other members of the society
would in turn participate, to the extent possible for each, in
the contemplative life through the philosophers. This would
be achieved by ordering the whole social conversation to the
intellectual life, including entertainment, education, law, and
the arts. Aristotle conceived of music as playing a special role
in the communication of this life. In this way, since the specu-
lative life is itself something divine and thus beyond the
ordinary powers of man, the ultimate happiness of man and
of society itself would be found by bringing out that which is
absolutely best in man's nature.
It would not be quite precise to say that such an idea of man's
nature and his end is rejected today. Actually, for the most
part it is not even considered. Most men today, including a
great many who call themselves philosophers, would be scan-
dalized by any analysis which seriously considers " separated
intelligences " and which would attempt, in the purely natural
order as opposed to the supernatural, to find a place for them
in any discussion of the end of man. As far as finding man's
end in the life of the intellect, many would probably admit
that it is in some way desirable but not very practical.*'
Furthermore, if man must contemplate let the object be man.
Such a complete rejection of the Greek ideal can be explained
very well by carefully considering the concept of motionless
motion and by studying the kind of philosophy or " world
view " to which it gives rise when it is considered as the funda-
mental idea in the study of Nature. This is not to say that
" This would explain some of the modern confusion in discussions of the
" liberal " arts.
290 ROMAN A. KOCOUREK
such definitions used in modern science are invalid. Quite the
contrary, they are indispensable if we are to have modern
scientific research. Any attempt to require the modern mathe-
matical physicist to use the idea of motion as actus entis
in 'potentia inquantum huiusmodi would be ridiculous. It is
equally ridiculous to expect that a philosopher can use the
scientist's motionless motion and arrive at a world view which
would satisfy the highest aspirations in man's nature. In fact,
if the expectation would in any way be taken seriously the
result could be catastrophic.
In the Whidden Lectures at McMaster University in 1959 '^
Dr. Charles De Koninck showed very clearly that speculation
based on the definitions of modern mathematical physics does
not lead us to a knowledge of " Nature and Nature's laws."
Quite the contrary, we shall have a " hollow universe " devoid
of Nature and intellect. At first glance this seems opposed
to what was said earlier about the study of Nature being a
necessary introduction to first philosophy. This is certainly
knowledge about nature that the modern scientist is looking for.
Many modern scientists are not even interested in the practical
applications of their theories. Their aim is " pure " research
into the laws of Nature. The use of mathematics in this
endeavor would apparently even receive the sanction of Aris-
totle who himself used mathematics in his more particular
analysis of natural phenomena. Thus, to speak of this specu-
lation as producing a " hollow universe " would seem to be
exaggerating differences which are only minor. That this is
not the case can be seen by examining more closely the object
and method of the modern scientist.
In the idea of motion given by Cassirer at the beginning,
there is the term " place " and " change of place." It is a term
which the modern scientist or philosopher seldom uses. Instead
they often use the term " space " which does not mean the same
thing at all. For Aristotle place is the innermost motionless
'' Published as The Hollow Universe (Oxford University Press, 1960).
MOTIONLESS MOTION 291
boundary of what contains.^ For modern science, as Cassirer
says, " Objective reality passes from place to change of
place. . . ." This fundamental opposition shows up again in
the analysis of the notion of " between," In V Physics, chapter
3, Aristotle defines the terms " together," " apart," " in con-
tact," " between," " in succession," " contiguous," and " con-
tinuous." In all but one of these terms the definition given
applies to mathematical objects as well as to things as they
exist in Nature. The one exception is the term " between."
" Between," he says, " is that which a changing thing, if it
changes continuously in a natural manner, naturally reaches
before it reaches that to which it changes last." The peculiar
nature of this term is well recognized by the modern phi-
losopher. Here is what Cassirer has to say about it:
The evolution of modern mathematics has approached the ideal,
which Leibniz established for it, with growing consciousness and
success. Within pure geometry, this is shown most clearly in the
development of the general concept of space. The reduction of
metrical relation to projective realizes the thought of Leibniz that,
before space is defined as a quantum, it must be grasped in its
original qualitative peculiarity as an ' order of coexistence ' (ordre
des coexistences possibles) . The chain of harmonic constructions,
by which the points of projective space are generated, provides the
structure of this order, which owes its value and intelligibility to
the fact that it is not sensuously presented but is constructed by
thought through a succession of relational structures. ... In this
sense, modern geometry seeks to free a relation, such as the general
relation of ' between,' which at first seems to possess an irreducible
sensuous existence, from this restriction and to raise it to free logical
application. The meaning of this relation must be determined by
definite axioms of connection in abstraction from the changing
sensuous material of its presentation; for from these axioms alone
is gained the meaning in which it enters into mathematical
deduction.^
These opposed notions of " motion," " place," and " between "
arise from a fundamental difference in the respective notions
of Nature and the natural.
^Physics IV, ch. 4, 212a 20. ° Substance and Function, ed. cit., pp. 91-92.
292 ROMAN A. KOCOUREK
Aristotle, while admitting that " Nature loves to hide " and
recognizing that knowledge in any scientific way would be very
difficult to attain here, nevertheless held to its objective reality.
The modern approach to Nature is well brought out by Cassirer
in another of his works. After pointing out that modem science
has exercised a great influence in a practical way on the modern
world, he says:
The real achievement of science lies elsewhere; it is not so much in
the new objective content which science has made accessible to
the human mind as in the new function which it attributes to the
mind of man. The knowledge of nature does not simply lead us out
into the world of objects; it serves rather as a medium in which
the mind develops its own self-knowledge. . . . One world and one
Being are replaced by an infinity of worlds constantly springing
from the womb of becoming. . . . But the important aspect of the
transformation does not lie in this boundless expansion, but in the
fact that the mind now becomes aware of a new force within
itself. . . . The highest energy and deepest truth of the mind do not
consist in going out into the infinite, but in the mind's maintaining
itself against the infinite and proving in its pure unity equal to
the infinity of being.
10
If all that is intended here is to show that man's intellect is
capable of producing an infinity by which it can equal and
thus in some way overcome the infinity in the processes of
Nature, there could be no dispute about this. That this is going
to be used to find out how things are in Nature is easily seen
by following Cassirer's arguments in the remainder of his book.
He holds that:
Both (nature and knowledge) must be understood in terms of their
own essence, and this is no dark, mysterious ' something,' impene-
trable to intellect; this essence consists rather in principles which
are perfectly accessible to the mind since the mind is able to educe
them from itself and to enunciate them systematically.^^
Thus where Aristotle finds something " dark " and " myster-
ious " in Nature which escapes the power of man's intellect,
^° Philosophy of the Enlightenment (Princeton: Univ. Press, 1951), p. 37.
" Ibid., p. 45.
MOTIONLESS MOTION 293
the modern philosophers and scientists who follow Cassirer
will see Nature as " perfectly accessible to the mind."
In his study of Nature and Nature's ways Aristotle often
uses the principle that " art imitates Nature." In this way
he was able to discern, in an analogous way, some of the pro-
cesses by which Nature achieves her end. In fact, even the
notion that Nature operates for an end is arrived at by this
reasoning in // Physics. Many moderns, if they are aware of
this method in his works, often characterize it as " anthropo-
morphic " and reject it out of hand. This is indeed curious
because if we compare the results obtained by the " anthropo-
morphic " method of Aristotle with those of the modern phi-
losophers for whom Nature is an open book, we should expect
that the former would find its end in man while the latter would
have some extrinsic focus. That this is not the case, as least
for Aristotle, was shown earlier when it was pointed out that
for him man would have an end in something divine. Man's
happiness was to be found in the contemplation of that divine
principle which is the source of all being. When those for whom
nature is " perfectly accessible to the mind " turn their atten-
tion to questions of ethics and politics they use notions
indicating that man is supreme in his determination of his
goal and that society exists only by some sort of a " social
contact." With respect to this last notion Fr. Charles McCoy
has said:
It may seem curious that the idea of contract be employed to
express a natural relation. However, the secret of its appropriateness
is to be found in the fact that the naturalism of this political phi-
losophy demanded an innate social propensity which could be raised
to the level of a sufficient explanation of social groupings in such
a way as to leave no law to be observed which in any sense is
imposed from without, but to leave only a ' natural law ' which the
moral subject gives to itself. And nothing is better designed to
express this kind of naturalness than the idea of contract.^-
""The Turning Point in Political Philosophy, Avi. Pol. Sc. Rev., XLIV (1950),
678 ff.
294 ROMAN A. KOCOUREK
Thus where Aristotle arrived at a society where man is ordered
to speculation of things which are above man, the moderns
place man in a society or " social grouping " which has no law
" which is in any sense imposed from without." The end of
man in this latter society will be not the contemplation of the
world, but will consist rather in remaking the world according
to the finite capacity of his own intellect. Or, as someone has
said, " The purpose of philosophy is not to explain the world
but to change it."
It seems, therefore, that how we study Nature and how we
define motion and the ideas used in that study will make an
important difference in our conception of man and his role in
the universe. The wordy and confused notion of motion which
was used by Aristotle in his analysis enabled him to arrive at
a universe which is open to something higher than man, while
the clear concept of the motionless motion of modern science
ends in a " hollow universe," closed about the small and finite
intellect of man himself.
Roman A. Kocourek
College of St. Thomas,
St. Paul, Minnesota.
TIME, THE NUMBER OF MOVEMENT
IT has been suggested that for our age the particular riddle
the Sphinx has set is that of time. Many of the per-
ennial problems which torment the mind of man are more
or less involved with time; — to cite but one example: the
problem of man's free will and God's knowledge of future con-
tingent events. Though time is the measure of our duration and
of our activities, it is nevertheless far from clear. An object
is intelligible only in so far as it is in act. Upon investigation,
however, time seems to be more potential than actual. The
past is no longer, the future is not yet, and the only actuality,
the " now " is not time.
Modern emphasis on physics has again brought into promi-
nence this problem of time, but mathematical physics, pre-
sumably concerned with time, actually deals with its measure-
ment rather than with its nature. This neglect by physicists
of the nature of time goes back to Newton who wrote: " I
do not define time, space, place, and motion, as being well
known to all." ^
The basic text for an understanding of the nature of time is
Aristotle's Physics, Book Four, Chapter Ten, and the com-
mentary on it by Saint Thomas Aquinas. Yet even his study
bristles with difficulties. One of these I have chosen as the
subject of this paper. Aristotle defines time as "... the
number of movement according to a before and an after." ^
Thus he seems to put the formality of time in number. Now,
if time is a number and number depends on some mind, it
would seem that if there were no mind there could be no num-
bering of motion and hence no time. Aristotle recognized this
problem as a valid one: " Whether if soul did not exist time
^ Isaac Newton, Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy, Definitions:
Scholium, trans, by Florian Cajori (Univ. of California Press, 1947), p. 6.
'Aristotle, Physics, TV, c. 11, 219bl-2.
295
296 SISTER M. JOCELYN
would exist or not is a question that may fairly be asked, for
if there cannot be someone to count, there cannot be anything
that can be counted, so that evidently there cannot be number;
for number is either what has been or what can be counted." ^
Would we, following the Aristotelian doctrine find ourselves
forced to hold that prior to the creation of man (or at least
of a higher animal with memory and hence a knowledge of
time) there was no time and all things were instantaneous?
We are cautioned against drawing too hasty a conclusion how-
ever by these words of Aristotle: "... it is evident that every
change and everything that moves is in time." * Certainly prior
to the creation of man things changed and moved, so in Aris-
totle's own words they were " in time." Such a conclusion
however seems to contradict his position that if there were no
soul there would be no time.
There is some doubt however that this is truly Aristotle's
position. The above translation is based on a text of William
of Moerbeke. Aristotle's own text is an uncertain guide because
it is in such poor condition and because the critical study of it
is rendered uncertain in that the introduction of a period or a
comma, missing in the text, would change the meaning. After
a brief survey of the history of the problem it will be the pur-
pose of this paper to show that it is more in keeping with the
thought of Aristotle to hold that time is formally a being of
nature and not of reason. True, the greater number of phi-
losophers think that time would not be if there were no soul.
We shall try to show that it is the thought of Aristotle and of
St. Thomas that time is an ens naturae and not an ens rationis,
and to exist even if there were no soul; not indeed perfect in
being, but rather imperfect, as in motion.
An investigation of the history of the question shows that
without doubt Plato believed time to be real:
Now the nature of the ideal being was everlasting, but to bestow
this attribute in its fulness upon a creature was impossible. Where-
' Ibid., IV, c. 14, 223a21-25.
* Ibid., IV, c. 14, 223a-14-15.
TIME, THE NUMBER OF MOVEMENT 297
fore he resolved to have a moving image of eternity, and when he
set in order the heaven, he made this image eternal but moving
according to number, while eternity itself rests in unity; and this
image we call time.^
Here Plato identifies time with the motion of the spheres, hence
a being of nature. Even without an intelligence time would be
a reality because it is nothing more than the actual movement
of the spheres. It was precisely on this point, that is, the identi-
fication of time and movement, that Aristotle criticized Plato
asking how, if time and movement were the same, we could
speak of movement being fast or slow.
Aristotle denied their identity, yet admitted that time and
movement were always found together. His conclusion was
that time was the number of movement according to a before
and after. It is the reality of this number that we are investi-
gating. As mentioned above, Aristotle's position is doubtful
and because of the uncertain condition of his text we cannot
look to him for a satisfactory solution of the problem. His
text quoted at the beginning, based on William of Moerbeke,
would seem to put time in the mind and only movement in
nature. The Latin version of the Arabic also tends to support
this interpretation. Moreover the renaissance texts render this
passage in the sense that if the soul is not, there is no time but
only motion which is numerable.
In spite of these numerous indications that Aristotle meant
that if there were no soul there would be no time, it seems that
his thought is otherwise and in fact seems to require that time
be in nature even without soul. In support of this thought we
call attention to the fact that for Aristotle number in the defini-
tion of time is taken as " numbered " number, (not " number-
ing " number) , and so a being of nature. Likewise Aristotle
reduces time to quantity, and places " when " as an accident
caused by time.
Among philosophers from Aristotle to Saint Thomas we find
^ Plato, Timaeus, 37 D, trans, by Benjamin Jowett (New York, 1892), III,
p. 456.
298 SISTER M. JOCELYN
almost all holding time to be constituted in its formality by the
mind.
Galen (129-199 A. D.) taught that time was the sucession
of our perceptions as known. He then places time as a mental
being which does not exist if there is no soul which perceives. °
Plotinus (205-270 A. D.) defines time as the life of the soul
in movement. It is not to be conceived as outside of soul.^
An obscure Boetius on the other hand, thinks nothing pre-
vents number from being without that which numbers. Thus
time can exist without soul. Perhaps his position is due to a
strong Platonic influence.^
Themistius (c. 320-390 A. D.) finds fault with Boetius.
What can be numbered and numbering are correlative; one
cannot be without the other. If there is no one to number there
is no numbering and so if there is no soul to number there is no
time.^
Saint Augustine (354-430 A. D.) shows delightful humility
in acknowledging his ignorance of time: " If no one asks me,
I know; if I want to explain it to a questioner, I do not
know." ^° Yet after much analysis he concludes that it is the
mind which gives time: " It is in you, 0 my mind, that I
measure time . . . what I measure is the impress produced in
you by things as they pass and abiding in you when they have
passed: and it is present." ^^
In the sixth century Simplicius expressed his disagreement
with the thought of Boetius, holding that although the numer-
able can exist without soul as does movement, yet number and
hence time can in no way exist without soul. Only movement
exists in nature, for to consider the prior and posterior belongs
" Albertus Magnus, Lib. IV Phydcorum, tr. HI, cap. 3, ed. Borgnet, IH, pp.
310b-311a.
'G. H. Turnbull, The Essence of Plotinus (New York, 1934), p. 107.
^ For this point I am indebted to the unpublished notes of the Rev. J. A.
Weisheipl, O. P.
*See note 8.
^"St. Augustine, Confessions, Book XI, chap. 14 (New York, 1943), p. 271.
" Ibid., Book XI, chap. 32, p. 283.
TIME, THE NUMBER OF MOVEMENT 299
to mind numbering. He therefore concluded that time is a
being of reason and not of nature/^
Averroes (1126-1198 A.D.) , following the Arabic version of
Aristotle referred to in the beginning of this article, considered
that the prior and posterior in the definition of Aristotle exist
only potentially if there is no soul. They are actual if there is
a soul. If numbered in act there is time in act but, if there is
no soul, time is only potential. Time has no " to be " in nature
except in potency. Time is in act only in the operation of the
mind numbering, whence there is no time formally except in
so far as the mind numbers according to a prior and posterior.
This distinction was followed by all the Averroists from the
thirteenth to the sixteenth century as well as by Saint Thomas
in his commentary on Book One and Two of the Seiitences.^^
In spite of the almost complete unanimity of his predecessors
on this question Saint Albert showed his great originality, in-
sisting that the nature of time was something real: ". . . et
ideo fluxus ille realis erit realiter tevipus." " In developing his
thought St. Albert said that, to number, three things were
required: numbered matter, formal number, and the soul effi-
ciently (not formally) counting. Even if there is no soul, yet
there is number according to formal being and according to
numbered number. Now that by which a thing is numbered is
twofold: that by which it is numbered efficiently (the soul) and
that by which it is numbered formally. As soon as we have
multiplicity, discreteness, otherness, we have formal number
and so "... if there is no soul number is not just potential,
but it exists according to the habitual form of discreteness of
numbered things." ^^ Without a doubt St. Albert thought time,
the number of motion according to a prior and posterior, existed
formally in nature whether or no there was a soul.
^~ See note 8.
" St. Thomas, I Sent., dist. 19, q. 2, a. 1; q. 5, a. 1; dist. 37, q. 4, a. 3; II Sent.,
dist. 12, q. 5, a. 2.
^* Albertus Magnus, Lib. IV Physicorum, tr. Ill, cap. 16, ed. Borgnet, III,
p. S40a.
^^Ibid., pp. 339b-340a.
300 SISTER M. JOCELYN
The young Thomas of the Sentences thought time dependent
on the mind: "... the notion of time is in some way com-
pleted by the action of the soul counting . . ." ^*^ Yet in his
commentary on the Physics he adopts a quite different position.
Whether this change was due to the influence of St. Albert we
do not know. In the commentary on Aristotle's treatment of
this problem Saint Thomas says: ". . . it is necessary to say
either that there is no time if there is no soul or to say more
truly that without the soul time is a kind of being {utcumque
ens) ." ^^ In explaining this St. Thomas says that if there is
movement without a mind, so too is there time because the
prior and the posterior in motion are, and this is just what time
is, namely the prior and posterior in motion in so far as they
are numerable. Realizing that it was this " numerable " which
seemed to demand a soul St. Thomas clarifies its meaning:
enumeration depends on a mind, but the " to be " of numbered
things does not depend on mind (unless it be the cause of
things, such as the divine intellect) . As there can be sensibles
without sense existing, so the numerable and number can exist
without numbering.^^
Moreover, Saint Thomas questions the validity of Aristotle's
analogy comparing number and the sensible, i. e. that just as if
there is no one to sense there is no sensible so if there is no one
to number there is no number. Commenting on this he says
that it is forte conditionalis:
For if there is a sensible, it can be sensed; and if it can be sensed
there can be someone sensing. But it does not follow that if there
is a sensible that there is someone sensing. It also follows that if
there is something numerable there can be someone numbering
. . . but it does not follow that if there is no one numbering that
there is not anything numerable.^^
To understand how Saint Thomas can hold there is a number
" St. Thomas, II Sent., dist. 12, q. 5, a. 2.
" St. Thomas, In IV Phys., lect. 23, n. 5.
" Ibid.
" Ibid.
TIME, THE NUMBER OF MOVEMENT 301
without someone numbering we must look to the Aristotelian
concept of number:
All plurality is a consequence of division. Now division is twofold:
one is material, and is division of the continuous; from this results
number, which is a species of quantity .-'^
Number is quantity resulting from division in matter; plur-
ality, discreteness. The plurality in movement, which is time, is
produced by the present instant actually dividing the move-
ment according to a before and after — into the past and future
which are its parts. This instant in dividing is always " other "
according to the succession of time and movement.
Time is not number with which we count, but the number of things
which are counted, and this according as it occurs before or after
is always different, for the ' nows ' are different.-^
From this otherness there results plurality which is time and
this plurality is present whether or not there is soul to count it.
The nunc, the instant which divides, is something other than
the factum esse of movement, — that successive actualization of
potency which is movement; yet to each factum esse there is a
corresponding nunc. Plato's error was to identify the two.
One might ask how, if time is continuous quantity it can be
defined as number, which is discrete quantity."" In its formality
it is discrete, it is the " now " dividing and in so far as it is
dividing the " now " is always different. Yet the " now " is
also a boundary — the termination of the past and the principle
of the future and thus realizes the definition of a continuum.
According to Aristotle: "... the now also is in one way a
potential dividing of time, in another the termination of both
parts, and their unity." ^^
Like movement, time has a fluid existence; only the instant,
the division of time, actually exists. Thus Aristotle says of it
^°St. Thomas, Sum. Theol., I, q. 30, a. 3.
^^ Aristotle, op. cit., IV, c. 12, 220b8-10.
^^ Ibid.
^^Ihid., IV, c. 12, 222al7-19.
302 SISTER M. JOCELYN
that it exists " barely and in an obscure way " ^* and Saint
Thomas speaks of it as an " utcuTnque ens," ^^ a kind of being,
an imperfect being.
Its perfection, the existence of its parts, past and future, is
not realized without the operation of the soul. The power of
retaining the past in memory and of looking ahead to the
future requires an intellect. "... the totality itself of time is
obtained through the ordination of the soul numbering the
prior and posterior in motion . . ." ^"
It is this aspect which was viewed by the authors cited at
the beginning of this article. What they failed to see was the
claim time had to some real being in the actuality of the instant
which continuously unites the past and future since it is the
term of the past and principle of the future.
Sister M. Jocelyn, O.P.
Rosary College
River Forest, Illinois
=* Ibid., TV, c. 10, 217b32-33.
-^ St. Thomas, In IV Phys., lect. 23, n. 5.
=^« Ibid.
Part Four
SPECIAL PROBLEMS IN SCIENCE
EVOLUTION AND ENTROPY
et>a
MOST biologists today would agree with George Gaylord
Simpson that, " the factual truth of evolution is taken
as established and the enquiry goes on from there." ^
Yet as Andre Lalande has shown, there are paradoxes in our
commitment to the theory of evolution,^ and one may face
them without necessarily opposing the theory itself. One of
these apparent antinomies is raised by the law of entropy, the
second law of thermodynamics. Since evolution, at least in
the living world, is regarded by probably all its advocates as
an uphill thrust, how can it co-exist with entropy, the so-called
downhill tendency of the cosmos.? Many observers take the
view expressed by Norbert Wiener that evolution or entropy
is only a temporary phenomenon and that in the end entropy
will exert its universal dominion to end all life processes ^ in
our universe. But even within scientific cosmology, the solution
can hardly be so simple. For it has been customary to speak
of the past and continuing evolution even of the inorganic
world. Thus in a paper delivered at the University of Chicago's
Darwin Celebration and significantly entitled, " On the Evi-
dences of Inorganic Evolution," Harlow Shapley intended " to
suggest that terrestrial biological evolution is but a rather small
affair, a complicated sideshow, in the large evolutionary opera-
tion that the astronomer glimpses." * Has the term " evolu-
tion," as though it were not already ambiguous enough, been
extended to cover all the events believed governed by the
second law of thermodynamics? If this is so and if evolution
* The Meaning of Evolution (New York, 1951) p. 11.
^ Les illusions evolutionnistes (Paris, 1931) .
* The Human Use of Human Beings (New York, 1954) pp. 40-47. L. Whyte
regards entropy in the title of his book as The Unitary Principle in Biology and
Physics (New York, 1949) .
* The Evolution of Life, Vol. 1 of Evolution after Darwin, ed. S. Tax (Chicago,
1960) p. 23.
305
306 VINCENT E. SMITH
thus becomes a universal cosmic tendency, what becomes of
entropy and of the opinion that " it is difficult to conceive of
circumstances that would invalidate the statistical proof of
the Second Law "? ° Obviously, the paradox suggested by La-
lande remains unresolved and probably exists in more pointed
form than the cosmologies of his own day would have urged.
If the apparent antimony between evolution and entropy is
to be frankly faced, there is clear need for carefully tracing
each of the two concepts to their empirical evidence.
Despite all of its obscurity, entropy is understood well
enough to be embodied in mathematical equations. Yet evolu-
tion, even apart from the greater attention paid to it in the
popular press, is probably easier to illustrate at a physical level.
All natural change, e. g., the development of an oak from an
acorn, a frog from a tadpole, and flesh and bone from food
materials, is in a loose sense of the term an evolutionary process
in which the better comes into existence.'' Because progress
is more intelligible in the physical world than the down-hill
drive of entropy, evolution may be more profitably discussed
first.
I
Like other leading ideas in modern science, e. g., the helio-
centric theory in physics or the atomic theory in chemistry,
the theory of evolution has analogues going back as far as
the Greeks, for instance Anaxagora? 7 and appearing in Chris-
tian writers like St. Augustine with his " seminal reasons." ^
Yet the theory of evolution, as we now know it, together with
the empirical evidence adduced in its favor, is an original
achievement of modern science. Collingwood, despite his fre-
quent exaggerations, had an insight in taking the post-New-
tonian conception of matter to be nature as history.^ Even
" C. F. von Weizsacker, The History of Nature (Chicago, 1949) p. 57.
' Sum. cont. Gent., Ill, cc. 3, 4.
'' Cf. Aristotle's report, Phys., I, 4, 187a20 fF.; the best secondary source on
Anaxagoras is F. Cleve's, The Philosophy of Anaxagoras (New York, 1949) .
* Cf. for instance, L.-M. Otis, La doctrine de I'evolution (Montreal, 1950) .
® The Idea of Nature (New York, 1960) pp. 9 ff.; 133 fl.
EVOLUTION AND ENTROPY 307
in this modern and history-minded period, it is a well known
fact that the first evolutionist was not Darwin," In the
writings of Buffon, Kant, and Laplace there are theories of the
evolution of the solar system. Buffon, in his monumental work,
Epochs of Nature (1778) ^^ theorized that the solar system
originated from a collision between a comet and the sun, and
he proposed a whole chronology concerning the cooling of the
earth to its present temperature. Kant held to a nebular
hypothesis in which an original cosmic dust, subjected to the
forces of attraction and repulsion, gave rise to the solar system
as we now know it.^- In 1796, Laplace brought the weight of
his authority to the nebular theory and reduced the distribution
of momentum among the apparently evolving planets to New-
tonian laws. In the spirit of Shapley's remarks, already quoted,
the notion of biological evolution when it finally caught on
through Darwin's research and writing, could already be set
within a larger evolutionary framework. In our own century,
the study of the galaxy and the discovery, through more power-
ful telescopes, that there are other galaxies besides our own —
in fact, billions of them with the most distant believed to be
six billion light years away — led to the theory that there are
countless " island universes " and extended the problem of
cosmology from a study of the solar system to a concern with
the laws governing the " arrangement, past, present, and future
of the galaxies in the universe." "
As we look at the cold facts, there is a whole array of evidence
that our universe was not always as it now is. There is, for
instance, radioactivity, the elongation of the moon, the apparent
succession of living forms as shown by the geological record,
slight but none the less real irregularities in planetary move-
" Cf. B. Glass, et al, eds., Forerunners of Darwin 17^5-1859 (Baltimore, 1959) .
^^ Des epoques de la nature, ed. L. Picard (Paris, 1894), first published in 1778.
^^ Cf. W. Hastie, Kant's Cosmogony as in his Essay on the Retardation of the
Rotation of the Earth and his Natural History and Theory of the Heavens (Glasgow,
1900) .
^^ H. Bondi, "Astronomy and Cosmology," in What is Science? ed. J. Newman
(New York, 1955) p. 66.
308 VINCENT E. SMITH
ment ^^ which would have an appreciable additive effect over
a long period of time. But perhaps one of the most crucial,
because the most cosmic, evidences in this regard is the phe-
nomenon of the expanding universe.
To approach the evidence for an expanding universe, it might
be initially observed that the distances of the nearer stars,
with respect to a terrestrial observer, can be determined from
the various angles at which their light strikes the earth in the
course of the earth's annual movement about the sun. From
the angles involved, distances can be computed by simple
trigonometry. But for more distant objects this change of
angle (parallax effect) is so small that a different method
must be used, and fortunately another tool is at hand. This
tool is furnished by the stars called Cepheid variables which
undergo periodic changes in their visible radiation, rapidly
increasing in luminosity and then fading back into their original
brightness. A correlation exists between the brightness of a
star and its period of pulsation; the longer the period the
brighter the star. The phenomenon of Cepheid variables,
named from the star Delta Cephei, the first laiown example
of such a pulsating star, enables us to know the absolute
luminosity of the star in question, and when this is compared
with apparent brightness, the distance of a Cepheid variable
can be determined. ^^
By invoking the periodic law for Cepheid variables, Edwin
P. Hubble showed that distant nebulae, such as the Andromeda
nebula, once believed to be part of the Milky Way, are actually
distant galaxies ^^ — in the case of Andromeda, two million light
years away. Moreover, this challenge to the older conception
of a nebula led to the view that the universe is expanding.
^* Although this irregularity in perihelion is discernible in the case of Mercury
and is explained by relativity mechanics, it is believed to exist, in a degree too
small to be observed, in the case of the other planets.
^^ An explanation of Cepheid variables will be found in A. Eddington, The Ex-
panding Universe (Ann Arbor, 1958) pp. 7-8.
^"For Bubble's work, see his The Realm of the Nebulae (Oxford, 1936).
EVOLUTION AND ENTROPY 309
As in the case of measuring cosmic distances, it may be
profitable to make a brief summary of the method employed
to reach the verdict of an expanding universe. This method
makes use of an analogy between light and sound. When,
for instance, a fast moving train approaches a by-stander near
the track there is a rise in the whistle's pitch and, as the train
recedes, a noticeable lowering of pitch. The physical reason
given for this phenomenon is the addition and subtraction of
frequency or wave-length because of the moving sound-source.
As the train approaches, its own motion is added to that of
the sound thus making for a shorter wave-length and higher
pitch of the whistle; as the train recedes, there is a net
lengthening of the sound wave and hence a lower frequency
or lower pitch.
Something similar is believed to happen in the case of light
waves reaching the earth from distant galaxies. The wave-
length is shifted toward the red or longer wave lengths of the
visible spectrum, indicating in the italicized words of George
Gamow " that " the entire space of the universe populated by
billions of galaxies, is in a state of rapid expansion, with all
of its members flying from each other at high speeds."
The expansion of the universe was proposed as a principle of
cosmogony by Abbe Georges Lemaitre who postulated a " pri-
meval atom " in which all the elementary particles of matter
were densely packed together. Lemaitre regards this Ur-atom
as an isotope of a neutron.^^ Gamow, who is in sympathy with
this type of theory, has written:
The nearest guess is that the overall density of the universe at the
time was comparable to that of a nuclear fluid tiny droplets of
which form the nuclei of various atoms. This would make the
original pre-expansion density of the universe a hundred thousand
billion times greater than the density of water; each cubic centi-
meter contained at that time a hundred million tons of matter."
19
The Creation of the Universe (New York, 1952) , p. 23.
The Primeval Atom (New York, 1950) p. 142.
Op. cit., p. 19.
310 VINCENT E. SMITH
Von Welzsiicker who closely resembles Lemaitre and Gamow
in their cosmologies, speaks of a compressed primeval gas.^°
Lemaitre, tracing out the history of his exploding primeval
atom, has computed that if the
fragmentation occurred in equal pieces, two hundred and sixty
generations would have been needed to reach the present pulveriza-
tion of matter into our poor little atoms, almost too small to be
broken again.^^
Summing up his theory on how the primeval atom expanded
into our present universe, Lemaitre with a flair for the poetic
says:
The evolution of the world can be compared to a display of fire-
works that has just ended: some few red wisps, ashes, and smoke.
Standing on a well-chilled cinder, we see the slow fading of the
suns, and we try to recall the vanished brilliance of the origin of
worlds.-^
All of these theories, as the opening phrase in the preceding
quotation reminds us, are evolutionary. Gamow speaks of the
original Big Squeeze. Such a type of theory points to the
hypothesis for a beginning of some sort in the history of the
cosmos we now know.
The beginning theory is regarded by Sir Edmund Whittaker
as an argument for Creation, even for Creation in time."^
E. A. Milne spoke of a t = 0 and held likewise to a temporal
beginning of our cosmos.-* With such a conclusion, however,
and as both of these experts would admit, we pass beyond the
frontiers of science in the narrow modern sense of the term
and enter a meta-scientific region.
The more scientifically orthodox supporters of a beginning
theory usually do not range beyond the view that there was
some primeval matrix — an atom, a nuclear fluid, a compressed
gas — densely packed togther; from this original stuff our uni-
*" Op. cit., p. 81.
" Op. cit., p. 78.
" Ibid.
'^'^ Space and Spirit (London, 1946) pp. 118-121.
"'^ Modem Cosmology and the Christian Idea oj God (Oxford, 1952) p. 58.
EVOLUTION AND ENTROPY 311
verse is said to have arisen by explosion or expansion. Using
a law projected on theoretical grounds by Lemaitre and con-
firmed by Hubble, that the recession velocity of a nebula is
proportional to its distance away, the date of the Big Squeeze
can be set at about 10^*^ years,"^ although, as Lemaitre argues,
the velocity of recession may not always have been uniform.'®
Like the other current cosmological theory to be mentioned
later, the advocates of a primeval matrix account for the
known abundances of various elements and must render an
account of the relative numbers of heavier and lighter elements
in various places throughout the cosmos. The universe as a
whole is estimated to be about 55 per cent hydrogen, 44 per
cent helium, and one percent of the heavier elements.
In the language of Lyttleton:
Hydrogen is to be regarded as constituting the primitive material
of the universe, from which all other elements are somehow formed.
This conclusion has a highly important implication, because it
means that in its present state neither the sun nor any similar star
can produce the heavy elements that are essential for the formation
of the planets, such as our Earth, in which as we have seen it is the
heavy elements that are abundant and the hydrogen by comparison
exceedingly rare.^'^
It will not be fruitful, for purposes of this paper, to outline
the theories, such as supernovation,^^ designed to explain the
formation and distribution of the heavier elements.-^ It is
important only to note that this is termed an evolutionary
process. Shapley writes that " the evolution of matter appears
to be a synthesis inside the stars of the heavy elements out
of hydrogen, which is accepted as the primordial, abundant,
and simple No. 1 element."^" Then too, the whole process
31
^® Shapley, art. cit., p. 32.
"* Op. cit., p. 79.
2T
28
R. Lyttleton, The Modem Universe (New York, 1956) p. 137.
Cf. H. Bondi, The Universe at Large (New York, 1960) pp. 52-55.
^*E. Findlay-Freundlich, Cosmology (Chicago, 1951) p. 50.
'° Shapley, art. cit., p. 35.
^^ In all the discussions of evolution throughout this paper, it is to be understood
312 VINCENT E. SMITH
may be regarded as evolutionary for the additional reason that,
as manifested by the constitution and history of our earth,^^
it leads to the appearance and survival of the self-replicating
macromolecules which are living things. Surely this process is
a build-up; it is progressive; it is an evolution, and according
to biologists, it leads, after living things finally appear, to
higher and higher species. It is proper to speak of the Big
Bang theory,^^ held by Lemaitre, Gamow, and von Weizsaecker,
as an evolutionary account.
Before considering entropy, the down-hill drive in our uni-
verse, mention must be made of the so-called steady-state
theory which has grown up in Great Britain and is held by
such cosmologists as Gold,^* Bondi,^^ Hoyle,^'' and Lyttleton.^^
According to this hypothesis, the universe never had a begin-
ning and therefore did not have to undergo the differentiation
from a primeval atom. The work done in the never-ending
expansion of the universe is accounted for by a continuous
creation. Hydrogen, the " No. 1 element " in the cosmos, is
created at the rate of one atom per litre of volume every billion
years. This is Bondi's figure.^^ From hydrogen, other and
heavier elements are then built up. Bondi further states:
The expansion of the universe, which can be inferred either from
thermodynamics or from astronomical observations, would seem to
that, by the laws of logic, we are dealing only with hypothesis — the best positive
account we can so far give of how things come to be as they are. We are not dealing
with fact, as in the proposition, " Man is a rational animal." Yielding to current
conventions, we have simply used the term " evolution " without grammatically men-
tioning the logical qualification to be put upon it as only a very strong hypothesis.
^' Cf. A. Holmes, The Age of the Earth (London, 1937) ; H. Jeffreys, The Earth
(Cambridge, Eng., 1952) ; E. Bullard, The Interior of the Earth (Chicago, 1953) .
'^^ "After the full complement of the atomic species had been formed during the
first hour of expansion, nothing of particular interest happened for the next 30
million years." Gamow, op. cit., p. 74.
p. 142.
'* Cf. E. Mascall, Christian Theology and Natural Science (New York, 1956)
^^ H. Bondi, Cosmology (Cambridge, Eng., 1952) .
'* F. Hoyle, The Nature of the Universe (New York, 1950) .
*' Op. cit.
'^Cosmology, p. 143.
EVOLUTION AND ENTROPY 313
lead to a thinning out of material. By the perfect cosmological
principle [by which Bondi means, roughly, the uniformity of nature]
the average density of matter must not undergo a secular change.
There is only one way in which a constant density can be com-
patible with a motion of expansion, and that is by the continual
creation of matter.^^
The continuous-creation theory must not be confused with
pair-formation where an electron and a positron are " created,"
as the physicist says, from electric field.*'' And above all, the
continuous-creation, in view of its proponents, must not be
regarded as requiring a Creator. As Hoyle writes, " The most
obvious question to ask about continuous creation is this:
Where does the created material come from.'^ It does not come
from anywhere. Material simply appears — it is created." ^^
Lyttleton affirms that the appearance of newly created hydro-
gen " is a property of space itself. . . ." *^
By virtue of their theory of continuous creation, the steady-
state theorists in a sense would have to deny the process of
evolution we have described above or at least to qualify their
interpretation of evolutionary cosmogony. For them, the uni-
verse always was and always will be. As old galaxies recede
from view, new ones are formed. The work for these processes,
demanded by the classic formulation of energy laws, is
accounted for by the continuous creation of the " No. 1 ele-
ment." In this manner, the steady-state theorists believe they
can overcome the so-called " beginning " which appears so
mysterious within the usual canons of scientific investigation.
But as Milton Munitz has ably argued, the steady-state theory
does not eradicate the apparently mysterious principles from
cosmogony. It simply replaces one enigma w^ith another.*^ For
the continuous creation of new matter is just as mysterious
«* Ibid.
^° This is explained by Einstein's E=mc- and does not depart from the principle
of conservation of mass-energy.
" Op. cit., p. 123.
"Op. cit., p. 201.
*^ " Creation and the ' New ' Cosmology," British Journal of the Philosophy of
Science, V (1954), 32 ff.
J>14 VINCENT E, SMITH
to the logic usually employed by science as the hypothesis
of a " beginning."
A third theory of the origin of the world, based upon the
notion of a " pulsating universe," may be in the offing.** But
the two leading cosmologies actually in vogue are the ones
briefly sketched above, and our concern in this paper will be
confined to them. Our interest, of course, is their bearing upon
evolution.
Despite the comparison by Munitz, the steady-state theory
has the ring of the gratuitous about it and seems to require
ad hoc amendments to the usual formulation of the laws of
thermodynamics. Gamow even believes that there is experi-
mental argument against the steady-state theory in the evidence
of Stebbins and Whitford ^^ showing at least some of the
galaxies to have such a long red shift that their color cannot
be accounted for by the Doppler effect previously described.
The reddening is so pronounced that it might seem necessary
to explain it by inter-galactic dust which scatters light in much
the same way that the sunset is reddened by our terrestrial
atmosphere. But this hypothesis would require more dust
than can be admitted on other grounds. A tenable hypothesis
seems to be that observed galaxies, in their youth by com-
parison to their mature period, contained a greater abundance
of a special type of star (Red Giants) , and if this is the case,
it is necessary either to accept a developmental view or to patch
another ad hoc assumption on the steady-state theory to make
it tenable.
But even if the steady-state cosmology be entertained as a
possibility in the light of all the evidence which our unaided
reason can marshal,**^ it still bears witness to evolution. The
steady-state cosmologists accept the view that the universe is
** Finley-Fieundlich, op. eit., p. 56; Shapley, art. cit., p. 33.
^^ Gamow, op. cit., pp. 33-34.
*" This conditional acceptance is made in the same spirit that St. Thomas attaches
to Aristotle's view of an eternal world. As a starting point for the proof for a
Prime Mover it is the "more difficult" assumption (De Pot., q. Ill, a. 17), and if
within it, the proof can stand up, it can certainly stand up on a beginning theory.
EVOLUTION AND ENTROPY 315
expanding. They hold to the formation of heavier elements
out of hydrogen as one of the general principles for matter's
development. They re-interpret the evolutionary movement so
that it is endless in both directions and so that any deficit
caused by " evolution " is continually being overcome. But
they do recognize some kind of cosmic advance, and hence our
later assessment of evolution will include the evolutionary
aspect of the steady-state theory itself.
Our only point so far is that the two leading contemporary
cosmologies are theories of evolution.
II
The concept of evolution, an up-hill tendency, forms one part
of the paradox in modern cosmology; the other is the law of
entropy, the second law of thermodynamics. This law was
actually stated by Carnot in 1824 and hence it is also called
the Carnot principle. Although still invoking the caloric theory,
Carnot likened a heat engine to a hydraulic system, say a mill
wheel. The gist of Carnot's argument did not become explicit
until subsequently, and so his views will be here summarized
in the later and more polished form taken from other pens.*^
In the case of the hydraulic engine, to restore a quantity of
water to an earlier position at the top of the wheel, energy
must be supplied to the wheel from some source besides the
quantity of the water in question. Simplifying the analogy still
further, let us imagine a source of water and a sink below it.
To drive the water from the sink back to the source, the water
and the sink are not enough; we have to supply energy from
the outside, for instance with a pump or a heater. Were it
possible, from within any closed mechanical system, to restore
the system to its initial state after a disturbance of this original
set of conditions, a perpetual motion machine could be con-
structed, and one of the ways of phrasing the Carnot principle
*'' Carnot's principle is discussed in P. Bridgman, The Nature of Thermodynamics
(Cambridge, Mass., 1950) chap. 2.
316 VINCENT E. SMITH
is that it simply rules out a perpetual motion machine of
this type,
Carnot likened the behavior of a water system to the flow
of heat, but the full meaning of his achievement came only
when Clausius *^ formulated the Carnot principle to read that
heat, of itself, cannot pass from a cooler body to a hotter one —
any more than the water in our analogy can flow " uphill."
But what did Clausius mean by " entropy," — the term he
introduced to clarify and generalize the second law of thermo-
dynamics which, in the reading he gave it, simply states: the
entropy in any closed mechanical system always tends to
increase to the maximum?
The strictly mathematical physicist will want to regard
entropy as " a variable of state " as as " a function of state."
But this definition, valid as it is within a strictly mathematical
physics,*^ cannot supply the fundamental physical meaning we
would like to find. Clausius himself wrote that if we want to
assign to entropy a proper name, we can
say of it that it is the transjormation content of the body, in the
same way that we can say of the quantity TJ that is the heat
and work content of the body. However, since I think it better
to take the names of such quantities as these, which are important
for science, from the ancient languages, so that they can be intro-
duced without change into all the modem languages, I propose to
name the magnitude S the entropy of the body, from the Greek
word e trope a transformation. I have intentionally formed the
word entropy so as to be as similar as possible to the work energy,
since both these quantities which are to be known by these names
are so nearly related to each other in their physical significance that
a certain similarity in their names seemed to me advantageous.^"
But what is the " physical significance " of " transformation
content "? Perhaps we may take a cue from Lindsay and
Margenau who write, "the quantity we are seeking will be
Cf. W. Wilson, A Hundred Years of Physics (London, 1950) pp. 37-39.
For the nature of mathematical physics, cf. In II Phys., lect. 3 (passim) .
Cf. W. Magie, ed. Source Book in Physics (New York, 1935) p. 234.
EVOLUTION AND ENTROPY 317
meaningless unless it refers to equilibrium states." '^ Heat
tends of itself to flow from a hotter body to a cooler one — never
the reverse — and the flow ends, when the temperatures of the
two bodies are equal. Entropy is this tendency to equality,
to equilibrium, to uniformity.
It will be appropriate later on to spell out more carefully the
fine-print meaning of equilibrium or uniformity in order to
show how general this tendency must actually be and to
indicate that this entropic drive is a dedifferentiation by con-
trast to the differential structure in an evolutionary process.
But let us tighten our hold on the meaning of entropy so far
attained. Our second law of thermodynamics reads that the
entropy in any closed system always tends to increase to the
maximum. The augmentation of entropy is a measure of the
use of energy. In a steam engine, for example, some of the heat
is dissipated through the machinery and cannot be recovered
for use; more generally, in any closed system, energy exchange
always involves in the end a dissipation of heat throughout
the parts of the system, so that no machine is one hundred
per cent efficient.
The second law of thermodynamics thus records the degrada-
tion of energy and, if our cosmos is finite, the downhill drive
of the universe itself. The law of the conservation of energy
expresses the constancy in quantity of the energy involved in
any closed process; but the law of entropy records the quali-
tative change in such energy. Some of it passes into a state in
which it is no longer available for work. In any machine there
is a loss of available energy because of the dissipation of heat
through the machine itself.
Now the law of entropy, like all the laws of thermodynamics,
is not of merely local significance like an equation that applies
only to electricity or magnetism. All energy can be converted
to mechanical energy, and hence all energy transformations —
thus all the motions in our universe — involve a change of some
of the energy into unusable heat. In other words, since all
^^ R. Lindsay and H. Margenau, Foundations of Physics (New York, 1936) p. 215.
318 VINCENT E. SMITH
usable energy has a mechanical equivalent and hence can be
reduced to mechanical energy which in turn, when passing
from a potential to a kinetic stage, produces unrecoverable heat,
the law of entropy, though arising out of a study of heat, really
applies to all closed energy transformations and, if the universe
is finite, to all cosmic motion.
This is why Eddington could call the law of entropy " time's
arrow." " Entropy is a measure of the direction in cosmic
processes as a whole. It reports that our universe, previously
claimed to be in evolution, has in reality always been going
downhill. Slowly it is moving toward uniformity and equi-
librium where all heat will have have been transformed into
an unusable state and where, as a result, all further motion will
become impossible. This is what is meant by the heat-death
of the universe.
The law of entropy was being formulated at a time when,
despite the theory of Daniel Bernoulli and the experimental
evidence of Count Rumford, the caloric theory of heat was still
in vogue. About the middle of the nineteenth century the
kinetic molecular theory of matter, thanks to Joule and Max-
well, finally became acceptable, and in this perspective, the
much older idea that heat is a phenomenon of motion was
finally given quantitative form. The temperature of a sub-
stance could be correlated to the average kinetic energy of the
molecules, or more simply put, heat came to be considered as a
random motion of particles. As such, it is a problem in statistics
like the throwing of dice or the shuffling of cards.
Despite all the historical and philosophical interest which the
study of heat can command, we are interested in the problem
here only to round off our discussion of entropy. Against the
background that heat is the random motion of molecules in
material substances, or that " from the standpoint of the kinetic
theory, heat is disorganized random mechanical energy, whereas
mechanical energy proper is directed, ordered," ^^ it is possible
^- The Nature of the Physical World (New York, 1928) chap. 5.
"A. d'Abro, The Rise of the New Physics (New York, 1953) I, 398.
EVOLUTION AND ENTROPY 319
to gain a better possession of the meaning of entropy. Thus
if entropy is a tendency to uniformity, uniformity itself is one
synonym for a random aggregation of particles. As a statistical
equilibrium, such particles have a uniformity of behavior. The
ideal statistical aggregate is " the same all over."
Using a different language to reach eventually the same
conclusion, it can be seen that if heat is a random motion and
if there is a tendency of a hot body to lose heat to a cooler one
until the temperature of both are equal, there is a tendency
between the two bodies to form an undifferentiated or random
state — in this sense a uniformity — with respect to each other.
As acquiring more heat, a cooler body acquires more random-
ness; in other words, an increase of heat means an increase in
randomness as microscopic particles move about. If there is
a tendency in the cosmos toward an equality of temperature
among and within all bodies, this may be described as a ten-
dency from a less random or differentiated state to a more
random and undifferentiated state — a tendency from the less
probable to the more probable. This indeed is another way of
interpreting the Camot principle. The original constellation
of things must have been one of lesser probability in the
vocabulary of statistics, and as time has unfolded, there has
been a movement from the less probable to the more and more
probable. And so it will continue in the future. " Order," as
von Weizsacker has summed it up,
is a state which can only be realized in a very special way and
which, therefore, in practice, never originates of itself. Disorder,
on the other hand, is a generic name for the totality of all states in
which no definite order is realized; it can thus be realized in a
thousand different ways. When therefore any change not precisely
determined takes place in nature, it is to be expected with over-
whelming probability that it leads from order to disorder and not
vice versa.^*
The tendency in our world toward uniformity is thus a
tendency to randomness, a tendency to disorder, a tendency
^* Op. cit., p. 168.
320 VINCENT E. SMITH
to statistical equilibrium. The commou eud-product of all
energy reactions is the spread of heat or the increase in ran-
domness. By contrast to the order, described by von Weiz-
sacker, which is differentiated and heterogeneous, the random
or disordered, in the language of thermodynamics, is undif-
ferentiated and homogeneous. If entropy reigned alone in
nature, our world would gradually be undergoing a levelling
influence where difference, or otherness, an essential in all
motion, would slowly be disappearing.
There are several qualifications that would have to be put
upon the law of entropy if the discussion were to become more
precise than is intended here.
For one thing within the kinetic molecular theory itself, if
the particles of a system are truly disorganized, there is a small
statistical possibility that they may, in their aggregate, move
" uphill " and this fact has led, as d'Abro suggests, to the
downgrading of entropy to the status of an approximation.^^
Such a view, projected within the classical kinetic molecular
theory, would be supported for different reasons by the statis-
tical thermodynamics of quantum theory .^"^ Moreover, Tolman
suggested that a relativistic treatment of entropy might not
require the irreversible march toward the " heat-death " of the
universe." Finally, the steady state theorists restrict entropy
to local systems and permit the addition of hydrogen, in the
quantity previously stated, so that the total entropy of the
universe, far from declining, remains constant, i. e., in a steady
state.^^ As they deny evolution in its orthodox sense, so the
steady-state theorists see a universe where entropic losses are
being overcome.
Nevertheless, with all of these qualifications, it may still be
true that the law of entropy — and could we not argue in a
similar vein concerning evolution.^ — is one of those approxima-
" Op. cit., I, 399.
^° But directionality is also indicated by the non-conservation of parity. See the
article with this title by P. Blackett, American Scientist, XXVII (1959) , 509-514.
" R. Tolman, The Principles of Statistical Mechanics (Oxford, 1938) .
" H. Spencer Jones, " Continuous Creation," Science News, XXII (1954) , 29.
EVOLUTION AND ENTROPY 321
tions, true for the most part as Aristotle ^^ maintained but not
invested with absohite certitude like the type which post-
Cartesian physics has been seeking in the physical world.
Moreover, and as Aristotle also showed in his dialectical evalua-
tion of his predecessors, approximations can put one on the road
to reality itself,*'" Thus, there is no intention here of using
such highly derivative notions as entropy and evolution to
decide the issue of the fundamental principles in nature; for
this question is decided at a level far more general than that
attained by modern science with its specialized techniques of
experiment and its mathematical apparatus. But within this
framework, both entropy and evolution may suggest some
basic truths or reinforce some truths already recognized.
Ill
Several reservations will be useful in order to understand the
spirit of the ensuing comparisons involving evolution and
entropy.
1) However fruitful it might otherwise be to assess the
methods for studying both evolution and entropy and thereby
to gain a better hold on the meaning of the results, such an
excursion into logic and epistemology will not be undertaken
here."
2) The leading cosmologies of our day are evolutionary.
This we have seen in the very language of cosmologists them-
selves. It is apparent in the build-up, a qualitative differen-
tiation, of the heavier elements from hydrogen ®^ and in the
final conditioning of the universe to support life in its higher
^"Phys., II, 5, 196b 10-11.
'** Ihid., I, 5, 188a 18-29.
'^ This issue has been raised by E. McMulIin in " Realism in Modern Cosmology,"
Proc. Amer. Cath. Phil. Assoc, XXlX (1955), 137-160.
" What, then, does this steady-state universe look like? Although it is un-
changing on a large scale, it is not unchanging in detail. Each individual galaxy
ages owing to the way its resources of hydrogen are being depleted by its conversion
into helium inside the stars, and for other reasons." H. Bondi, The Universe at
Large, p. 43.
322 VINCENT E. SMITH
and higher forms. The gradual preparation of matter to sustain
life would itself be evidence of the evolutionary direction in the
history of nature. Teilhard has summed up the truly evolu-
tionary trend, believed discernible throughout the whole cos-
mos, by his term " complexification." ®^
In this light evolution is irreducible to entropy, even though
both may be universal and correlative; and the techniques to
measure entropy may not in general be fitted to detect the
qualitative and finalized character of genuine evolution. We
may have here an analogue to Bohr's principle of comple-
mentarity. Nevertheless, evidence for both principles, for what-
ever conviction it may carry, has become embodied in the
language of contemporary cosmologists, and is there to see
even in the outline we have been sketching.
3) Whether evolution and entropy are absolute and neces-
sary laws need cause us no scruples in our assessment of their
meaning. The continued existence of apparently very old living
forms that did not either evolve or become extinct may be an
exception to evolution as a truly absolute universal, and there
are arguments that entropy too is only approximation. But if
evolution and entropy are true for the most part, they are,
by such a status alone, entitled to a legal status in scientific
explanations.
Will further research modify our current notions of evolution
and entropy.'' Perhaps it will. But once more these two con-
cepts must be taken seriously by the philosopher of nature.
For the philosopher, even though not limited to current experi-
mental evidence and theory, is bound to take account, to the
extent that he can, of up-to-the minute scientific findings. If
he waits until all such results are in, he will wait forever.
But if he sifts through the reports of the science of his time,
he may hit upon that element of truth to be found in every
system of thought "* and, in the case of modern physics, an
element usually submitted to more or less careful checks.
"^ Teilhard de Chardin, The Phenomenon of Man (New York, 1959) p. 48.
^*Meta., II, 1, 993a 30-993b 7.
EVOLUTION AND ENTROPY 323
This tenuous hold on truth Is all we can expect in exploring
nature's details.
With all of these restrictions, what is the problem to be
treated? It is the paradox mentioned by Lalande more than a
generation ago and never fully faced, let alone resolved. The
gist of the problem is that there are two conflicting laws
reigning in our cosmos. One is the law of evolution leading
from disorder to order or from uniformity to differentiation.
The other is the law of entropy which finds the cosmos as a
whole going from order to randomness and from differentiation
to uniformity. How can these opposites co-exist? Are we not
in a position like that of Parmenides who was led to deny
motion because it seemed to involve irreconcilable opposites?
Yet, in addition to the undoubted evidence for motion, there
may also be enough evidence for both evolution and entropy
to bid us find a corresponding place for both of them in our
cosmology. In Book I of his Physics, Aristotle found a place
for the embryonic theory of evolution in Anaxagoras and for
the quasi-entropy of Empedocles. For all of the early natural-
ists as serious students of nature saw dimly, Aristotle said, and
they framed obscurely, some important truths about nature.*'^
But they did not push their analysis to the fundamental prin-
ciples in nature '^^ which are two first contraries and their
subject.
This is not Aristotle's positive argument for primary matter
and its two first contraries of substantial form and privation,
and we are applying a similar dialectic to approximate *'^ what
would be reached scientifically on other grounds. Let us go
over the dialectic to see how it operates.
Evolution and entropy, the uphill and down-hill tendencies
detected by modern cosmology, are contraries. They are oppo-
sites, and all motion, tends, from different points of view, to
*^ ". . . for all of them identify their elements, and what they call their principles,
with the contraries, giving no reason indeed for the theory, but constrained as it
were by the truth itself." Phys., I, 5, 188b 28-30.
"^St. Thomas, In I Phys., lect. 10, n. 172 (ed. Angelo Pirotta) .
*^ This is one reason why dialectic is called tentativa. In IV Met., lect. 4, n. 574.
324 VINCENT E. SMITH
be characterized by them both. That is to say, there are no
processes which tend to be governed by only one of these
principles, say entropy, while other motions are ruled only by
evolution. For entropy is generally regarded as universal,"* and
if modern cosmogony is a witness, equally universal is the
principle of evolution. Hence, evolution and entropy must
simultaneously characterize the same change and the same
changing things. Therefore, the substratum of these two ten-
dencies must be indifferent to both of them. If it inherently
possessed one, it would expel the other; and vice versa.
Such a triadic structure seems to throw us back upon the
three first principles of change discussed in perennial phi-
losophy. Evolution is a sign of form; entropy, of privation;
and the indfferent substratum, of primary matter. We are
speaking here of signs — not of principles; of effects not of
causes. For evolution and entropy, if they do signify form
and privation, are derived and secondary contraries which must
be traced back to their first principles. But this determination
of signs and effects is all we are after, here. It is evidence of
the kind of dualism which has been re-afRrmed in recent physics
in establishing new bridgeheads between modern science and
traditional philosophy.
Teilhard, though not alluding to the substratum we have
claimed as a necessity to bring evolution and entropy together,
has reinforced the effort we have made above:
In every physico-chemical change, adds thermodynamics, a fraction
of the available energy is irrecoverably ' entropised,' lost, that is to
say, in the form of heat. Doubtless it is possible to retain this
degraded fraction symbolically in equations, so as to express that
in the operations of matter nothing is lost any more than anything
is created, but that is merely a mathematical trick. As a matter
of fact, from the real evolutionary standpoint, something is finally
burned up in the course of every synthesis in order to pay for that
synthesis. ^^
Entropy measures the loss factor, the privation, the exhaust
"* Von Weizsacker, op. cit., p. 57. "• Op. cit, p. 51.
EVOLUTION AND ENTROPY 325
of what is "burned up " in the movement toward form. But
what loses and what gains? It must be a substratum indifferent
to either process, the subject in which privation and form
succeed one another.
IV
Though not concerned with the physical meaning of evolu-
tion and of entropy but more with logic and pedagogy, there
is one final observation that may be in place here. For we have
argued that the philosopher of nature is not dependent on the
evidence of entropy and evolution to establish his three first
principles of all change. He knows them because, in the order
of learning, the analysis of nature on a general level precedes the
specialized knowledge like that achieved in modern science;
this pedagogical order is commanded by the very nature of
human knowing.'" Does our study of evolution and entropy
lend any confirmatory weight to this order in our reasoned
knowledge of nature.?
Let us look at this matter closely, not because it is a physical
problem but only because evolution and entropy have been in
focus. Our question, to phrase it properly, concerns the level
where our reasoned knowledge of nature should begin in order
to be truly sure of itself. Should it begin with the micro-
physical, the astrophysical, or at some other level.?
Our authentic science of nature, sure of where it is starting
and of the principles it finds there, cannot begin with the
microphysical. For there may be forces and factors operating
in the universe at large which will not show up in microphysical
analysis. Thus, there could be no entropy to a single particle,
and for the same reason, the scientist could not speak of
evolution at this atomistic level. Even the biological evolu-
tionist cannot discuss evolution in the case of single individuals.
He speaks of populations. " Complete knowledge of the indi-
vidual events in the history of life," according to Simpson, " is
absolutely unobtainable, even in principle." '"■ By the same
^" Summa Theol., I, q. 85, a. 3.
''^ " The History of Life " in The Evolution of Life, op. cit., p. 121.
326 VINCENT E. SMITH
token, the astronomer employs statistics to detect trends in his
" billions of galaxies." ' " The point is that the over-atomization
point of view, in terms of the familiar figures of the trees and
the forest, may lead us to overlook some of the cosmic laws
which a broader look would reveal . This is especially true when
our analysis becomes microphysical.
Shall we begin, on the other hand, with the astrophysical?
If we do, we will find another source of obscurity. For all our
knowledge of distant times and places is dependent on what
we laiow from things on earth, however this knowledge be
refined and modified later on. If we leap, therefore, to astro-
physical problems without a prior study of things and events
within more direct experience, we will lack tested equipment
to make a realistic sounding of the dark depths to which we
have plunged.
Entropy and evolution thus make it relevant to inquire
where our deliberate possession of natural science should begin.
And there is no more logical beginning for a truly synthetic
reading of the book of nature than reason's consideration of
material things as they are first available in direct experience.
Such knowledge any scientist must inevitably possess, in how-
ever uncritical and unobtrusive a fashion, before he resort to
the special techniques of experiment and mathematics. Using
knowledge of this type, we have claimed to make evolution
and entropy not only more physically meaningful than perhaps
they now are but also consistent with each other.
Vincent E. Smith
Philosophy of Science Institute,
St. John's University,
New York, N. Y.
H. Shapley, Galaxies (Philadelphia, 1943)
FROM THE FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE
PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM
Part I: From the Fact of Evolution
STATEMENTS made by serious students of contempo-
rary evolutionary theory seem to be, even to this day,
in open conflict about the " fact of evolution." At the
Darwin Centennial Celebration held at the University of Chi-
cago (November, 1959) , the statement was constantly reiter-
ated: " Biologists one hundred years after Darwin take the
fact of evolution for granted, as a necessary basis for interpret-
ing the phenomena of life." ^ Huxley repeated the point: " The
evolution of life is no longer a theory; it is a fact and the basis
of all our thinking." " Dr. Sol Tax, chairman of the Convention,
summed up the panel discussions by extending the concept to
all areas of scientific endeavor:
But perhaps most of our schools still teach evolution, not as a fact,
but as only one alternative among explanations of how the world
has come to be what it is. No matter what gets done about our
religious beliefs, this particular phenomenon must now come to an
end. We cannot deal with the difficult problems of the world unless
our education takes account of demonstrated einpirical fact. (Italics
added.) ^
However, in one of the most critical papers submitted at the
Centennial, Dr. E. C. Olson suggests an underlying confusion
involved in these statements. He writes:
It is certain that few negative responses would result from the
simple question " Is the general concept of organic evolution valid? "
"^ Evolution After Darwin, edited by Sol Tax (Chicago, 1960) III, 107. This
three-volume work contains the University of Chicago Centennial papers and
discussions and will be used as a constant reference. Hereafter, the work will be
signified by the initials EAD.
Uhid., p. 111. ^Ihid., p. 247.
327
328 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
were it to be submitted to the biologists working the various dis-
ciplines today. If, however, a second question were asked, one
requiring a definition of organic evolution, it is equally likely that
a varied suite of answers would result, and, if the answers were
honest, there would be a fair sprinkling to the effect " I don't
know." *
After insisting that there is a silent segment of significant num-
bers among biologists and other scientists who feel that much
of the fabric of evolutionary theory accepted by the majority
today is actually undemonstrated or even false, Olson goes on:
The statement is frequently made that organic evolution is no
longer to be regarded as a theory, but is a fact. This, it seems to
me, reveals a curious situation that causes considerable difficulty in
understanding evolution both among laymen and among biologists
who are not intimately concerned with its study ... If organic
evolution can be defined simply and loosely as the changes of
organisms through successive generations in time, then it can hardly
be questioned that, within our understanding of the earth and its
life, evolution has occurred. In this sense it must be considered a
reality . . .^
If, however, the definition of evolution goes further and
asserts that contemporary synthetic theory (neo-Darwinian,
mutation-selection) is the theory of evolution, as was done
many times during the Convention,'' then. Dr. Olson points out,
that " fact of evolution " must be rejected as unproved and
invalid. The explanation of how the process of orderly change
of successive generations through time has been accomplished
must be dissociated from the statement that such an orderly
succession has taken place. Only then will many scientists
accept the proposition " evolution is a fact." ^
Olson's critical series of observations in the midst of the
Centennial discussion of the status of evolutionary theory
today throws important light upon the confusion which has
reigned for over a decade about this proposition: " evolution
is a fact." In 1951, the eminent geneticist T. Dobzhansky
wrote:
* Op. cit., I, 525. ^ Ihid., p. 526. « Loc. cit. '' Ibid., p. 527.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 329
Evolutionists of the nineteenth century were interested primarily
in demonstrating that evolution has actually taken place. They
succeeded eminently well. Evolution as an historical process is
established as thoroughly and completely as science can establish
facts of the past witnessed by no human eyes. At present, an
informed and reasonable person can hardly doubt the validity of
the evolution theory, in the sense that evolution has occurred.*
Just a few months before this statement was published, Pope
Pius XII wrote the following statement in the encyclical
Humani Generis, the Catholic Church's most important and
explicit comment on the problems connected with evolutionary
thought:
If anyone examines the state of affairs outside the Christian fold,
he will easily discover the principal trends that not a few learned
men are following. Some imprudently and indiscreetly hold that
evolution, which has not been fully proved even in the domain of
natural sciences (nondum invicte probatuTn in ipso disciplinarum
naturaliurri ambitu) , explains the origin of all things, and audaci-
ously support the monistic and pantheistic opinion that the world
is in continual evolution.^
Dobzhanski certainly meant to include the origin of the human
species by this evolutionary process which he claimed to be an
indubitable fact. But Pope Pius XII, when he expressed his
mind on the question of the origin of man from some pre-exist-
ing living form, again reverted to an expression which seems
contrary to the statement of the geneticist (and the majority
of scientists speaking on the question) . After making it clear
that the Church by no means disfavors the evolutionary inquiry
into the origins of man from living matter in keeping with
the most careful research, he adds:
However, this must be done in such a way that. reasons for both
opinions, that is those favorable and unfavorable to evolution, be
weighed and judged with the necessary seriousness, moderation and
measure . . . Some, however, highly transgress this liberty of dis-
* Genetics and the Origin of Species, 3rd ed. (New York, 1951) , p. 11.
® Cf . translation of the Encyclical Letter Humani Generis prepared by The
Paulist Press, New York, 1950, p. 6.
330 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
cussion when they act as if the origin of the human body from pre-
existing and living matter were already completely certain and
proved by facts which have been discovered up to now and reason-
ing on those facts {per indicia hucusque reperta ac per ratiocinia
ex iisdem judiciis deducta, jam certa omnino sit ac demonstrata)
10
• • •
On the face of things, there seems to be a fundamental dis-
agreement between the statements concerning the " fact of evo-
lution " made by most scientists today and those written in
Humani Generis. But this apparent disagreement is one found
not only in the dialogue between the theologian and the
scientist, or the philosopher and the scientist. There is fun-
damental ambiguity and apparent disagreement about the
significance and the validity of the proposition even among
scientists, as Olson's paper reveals. There cannot be true dis-
agreement in a dialogue, however, until there is fundamental
agreement about the meaning of the terms used in the discus-
sion. Minimal topical agreement must be had: men must agree
to disagree.
The proposition " evolution is no longer a theory, it is a
fact " is valid or invalid depending upon the significance as-
signed to tw^o terms: " evolution " and " fact." If we disengage
the series of events called evolution from any discussion about
the ivay evolution might have taken place, we might begin with
the definition of evolution set down by Panel Two at the
Centennial Convention as our constant in the present dis-
cussion:
Evolution is definable in general terms as a one-way, irreversible
process in time, which during its course generates novelty, diversity,
and higher levels of organization. It operates in all sectors of the
phenomenal universe but has been most fully described and ana-
lyzed in the biological sector.^^
This definition was agreed upon by Huxley, Emerson, Axelrod,
Dobzhansky, Ford, Mayr, Nicholson, Olson, Prosser, Stebbins,
Wright, and, presumably, by all other members of the Con-
'"Ibid., p. 19. ''EAD, III, 107.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 331
vention/" Assuming, for the moment, the definition of evolu-
tion stated here, let us turn our attention to the other undefined
element of the proposition, the term " fact."
What is a Fact?
Although the term is much used (and abused) in ordinary
speech, the accepted meanings of the word " fact " are greatly
varied. These variations fall into the following five categories:
(1) a thing done; deed, specifically, an unlawful deed, crime;
(2) that which has actual existence; an event; (3) the quality
of being actual; actuality; as, the realm of fact as distinct from
that of fancy; (4) the statement of a thing done or existing; as,
his facts are false; loosely, the thing supposed (even though
falsely) to be done or to exist; (5) Law: specifically, usually
in the plural; any of the circumstances or matters of a case as
alleged; also, that which is of actual occurrence; reality as
an event.^^
The range of meaning here indicates some ambiguity, but a
fact is, for most people, some deed or event which is known to
have actually taken place. Analogously and loosely the term
is applied to events supposed or alleged to have taken place,
even though the supposition may be unsupported, but in or-
dinary speech the usual meaning is clear. The term fact im-
plies an element of certainty, or, at least, the removal of doubt
about the actual existence of some event. Something is factual,
or a fact, when it is known, either directly or indirectly, to
exist or to have existed. One can attain the factual either by
evidence or by inferences from evidence, but in any case, until
one can ascribe actual existence to a deed or a thing, the term
" fact " is not properly ascribed. To the ordinary person, fact
is contrasted to fiction, fancy, mere supposition, hypothesis,
guesswork, inconclusive evidence and uncertain or doubtful
inferences.
When the student of language begins to investigate the
^^ Loc. cit.
^^ Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary, 2nd ed. (Springfield, Mass., 1953) .
oSi il\y:moxd j. xog.vr
special and even technical usage of the term "" fact "' in the
sciences and the arts, he finds the word taking on refined and
special meanings, sometimes quite incomprehensible and seem-
ingly contrary to popular usage. Metaphor, analogies and
sometimes equivocation enter into the use of common terms
in specialized fields. The term " fact " has not escaped ana-
logous and even equivocal modification in its use by the sciences
and the arts.'-^
For example, in legal cases, certainty is not required for ad-
judication. In the words of Hart and McXaughton:
In a criminal case, guilt need not be found beyond all doubt. The
trier of the fact must be satisfied of the defendant's guilt only
" beyond a reasonable doubt." In a civil case, the facts are ordi-
narily to be found on the basis of " a preponderance of evidence ";
this phrase is generally defined as meaning simply '* more likely
than not." The question for the trial judge is whether a " reason-
able jury " on the evidence submitted could find that the facts
have been proved by a preponderance of the evidence . . .-'
That compiling e^^dence and making inferences in criminal and
ci%*il law cases should have this quality of uncertainty about
its " facts ■"' is widely known and rather expected. We would
expect something quite different, however, when we consider
the e\'idence and inferences proper to the " exact sciences ''
of physics and chemistri'. In the physical and natural sciences:
Observation is just opening one's eyes and looking. Facts are
simply the things that happen; hard, sheer, plain and unvarnished
16
At one time in the not too distant past, the meaning of fact in
the physical and natural sciences did seem to be quite "' sheer,
plain and unvarnished." The scientist discovered empirical
facts, formulated laws generalizing the observed facts, and or-
ganized the laws into s^^lthetic theories."" Without much ad-
^* Cf. Evidence and Inference, ed. bv D. Lemer (Glencoe, 111.. 1958) .
' Ibid^ p. 53.
' E. Mach's words as quoted in X. R. Hanson, Patterns of Discovery. (^Cam-
bridge, 195S; , p. 31.
-• Ci. L. de Broglie, Matter and Light (New York, 1939,) p. IS.
15
1« '
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 333
justment, this formula is found in the classical text-books on
the methodology^ not only of physics and chemistry, but of
the biological, anthropological, psychological and sociological
sciences as well. ^Miatever the technique of elaborating laws
and theories — which might be proper to each discipline — one
might suppose that a " scientific fact " would be an event, or
thing, or deed which could be immediately and certainlv ob-
served, or inferred with certitude from technical observation.
So the classical methodologies of the 19th and early 20th Cen-
turies seemed to view the use of the term " fact."
But with the rapid re\'i5ion in the methodology of particle
physics (micro-physics) due to the indirect techniques neces-
sary to handle the data, manv remarkable changes have taken
place in the canonized terms of classical macro-physics, biolog}',
and the human sciences. Classical meanings attached to such
terms as causality, fact, law, hj'pothesis, probability, etc. ceased
to correspond simply with the concepts introduced by the
micro-physicist. On his level of research, the observations of
the facts themselves, because of the very indirect techniques of
experiment he is forced to employ, cannot be disengaged from
the concepts, assumptions, constructs, analogies and extra-
polations used to set up the operation of discovery. The
"thing" studied became a spatio-temporal measurement; its
" properties " became a description of the processes by means
of which these measurements are made.^* Fact and inference,
technique of observation and the event or thing observed, were
so blended that the classical meanings were radically altered
in the direction of subjective analog}*. In the light of the
methodolog^' of micro-physics:
Observations, evidence, facts; these notions, if drawn from the
'■ catalogue sciences " of school and undergraduate text-books, will
ill prepare one for understanding the foundations of particle theory.
So too with the ideas of theory, h^-pothesis, law. causality and
principle. In a growing research discipline, inquire- is directed not
to rearranging old facts and explanations into more elegant
"F. Renoirte. Cosmology (New York, 1950) p. 118.
334 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
formal patterns, but rather to the discovery of new patterns of
explanation.^^
This ambiguity which has entered into the language of
science by the operational methods of micro-physics has not
completely modified the usage of the term " fact " on the level
of the macro- and the megalo-sciences. There are many scien-
tific disciplines which still give the term " fact " the meaning
of something known to have actual existence, something either
observably or inferentially known to be certain. But the tech-
niques, terminology and methods of physics have set the pace
for theoretical scientific thinking for the past three centuries,
and biologists, chemists, phychologists, anthropologists, soci-
ologists and even historians have not remained unaffected by
this change in the fundamental meanings of the basic concepts
of physics. For our purposes here, it suffices merely to mention
this increasing tendency for technical scientific language to
depart from the common dictionary acceptation of such terms
as " fact " and " observation."
The Facts of Prehistory
Returning to the issue of the " fact of evolution," we are
confronted with another problem. If we accept, for purposes of
discussion, the definition of evolution set down by the panelists
at the Darwin Centennial Convention (quoted above) , we find
ourselves involved in a question which is essentially an his-
torical one, or, more properly, a problem of prehistory. As T.
Huxley wrote in 1907:
Primary and direct evidence in favour of evolution can be furnished
only by paleontology ... If evolution has taken place, there will
be its mark left; if evolution has not taken place, there will lie its
refutation.'"
Huxley was speaking of organic evolution, but the problems of
^^ N. R. Hanson, op. cit., pp. 1-2.
"" Address on " The Coming of Age of The Origin of Species," in Darwiniana
(London, 1907), p. 239.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 335
the origin of life, of the elements, of the earth, the stars, the
nebulae, etc. are, a jortiori, problems of prehistory. Conse-
quently, the evidence and inferences brought forward in sup-
port of these " facts " unwitnessed by human eyes will be
the kind proper to the disciplines which study historical process.
Not that the neo-sciences (e. g. neo-biology) cannot offer but-
tressing arguments for some of the prehistorical inferences, but
the kind of evidence and inference which constitute the prin-
cipal argument of evolutionary process is determined and
limited by the very nature of the problem of prehistory.
In matters concerning the sciences of prehistory (paleon-
tology, archaeology, etc.) , two extremes must be avoided: (1)
expecting more from the kind of evidence and inference than is
reasonable, and (2) attributing greater stability and reliability
to the evidence and inferences than is reasonable. In order to
avoid these excesses, it is necessary to assess properly what kind
of problem the prehistorian poses, and the power and limits of
his methodology in seeking solutions. The sciences of pre-
history are similar to written history in one way, but quite
dissimilar in another. Perhaps we can best understand the
problem of discovering " facts " and making " inferences " in
prehistory by comparing its methods to those of the profes-
sional historian.
Scientific history differs from other sciences and arts in its
subject-matter, its facts, its primary aim, its language, its
theories and interpretations, its methods and its meaning.-^ Its
subject-matter is the recorded past, more or less dramatized
or put into order. The recorded past is a series of indi\ddual
events, actions, persons, non-recurring for the most part, seen
in the context of a space- time continuum. The facts are indi-
vidual, concrete, unrepeatable events made available by the
witnesses who recorded them. The primary aim of history is to
reconstruct the events in their individuality, thus resembling a
literary narrative rather than a scientific treatise. The lan-
"^ Cf. The Philosophy of History in our Time, ed. by H. Meyerhoff (New York,
1959) pp. 18-22.
336 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
guage, then, is literary and not scientific. Fact, theory and
interpretation form a closely knit complex in the historical
narrative so that there are very few " simon-pure " historical
facts without some interpretation.
Historical method is a combination of scientific evidence and
inference with imagination, insight, and empathy. History
employs causal and even teleological explanations, shows trends
and illuminates events, but is not causal in the strict scientific
sense. The meaning of the series of contingent events and
their patterns depends upon the theological or philosophical
assumptions of the historian. Upon most of these statements,
contemporary historians agree."- Of course, the accent in mus-
tering evidence and inference will differ with each philosophy
of history, but we can easily perceive that the historian's
" facts " are not the facts of common usage. His facts are
affirmations on record, or inferences from records, that some-
thing has happened."^
We must pass over the debate among contemporary scientific
historians about the knotty problem concerning the certainty
or probability of historical evidence and inference."* This we
know, that the laws of observation and logic obtain in history
as in every science, and the degree of probability or the attain-
ment of certitude depend upon the trustworthiness of the
available witnesses. Obviously, since history cannot be re-
peated and therefore " tested out " like a scientific experiment,
the element of conjecture mounts up in this discipline. " His-
torical facts " lie more in the realm of actual events which
probably happened, than in the category of actual events which
certainly happened. The reason is simply that the historical
method depends so much upon indirect evidence, inferences
which depend entirely upon the relative trustworthiness of the
statements of the witnesses.
If the element of uncertainty prevails in securing evidence
and making inferences in history, how much more is this the
'■ Ibid.
'^ Ibid., p. 124.
24
R. G. CoUingwood, The Idea of History (New York, 1957) p. 261.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 337
condition of scientific prehistory which must draw conclusions
without the aid of the statements of witnesses. Piggott, in a
very critical and illuminating paper at the Darwin Centennial
Convention states:
What follows from this is, I think, of paramount importance and
insufficiently recognized: the nature of the evidence dictates the
nature of the inferences which can be properly drawn from it . . .
I want to stress here that the past-as-known which is based on
archaeological evidence is not, and cannot of its nature be, the
same as the past-as-known based on evidence which involves the
written record in lesser or greater degree.-^
In human prehistory (e. g. archaeology) , what must take
the place of written records and preserved technological phe-
nomena is the mental artifact called the raodel. This is a
human construction based upon extrapolation, interpolation
and rational analogies to things known to us more directly and
immediately. Simpson stresses the point that the paleonto-
logical record of fossil remains of past eras of organic life must
be read with two factors in mind: (1) the essential tool (in
reading the record) is extrapolation from what we know in
neo-biology and present geological formation, an extrapolation
which has serious limitations and must be carefully regulated;
and (2) the very nature of the materials makes it obvious that
the record should not be read with a score of fundamental
biases.^®
A close reading of both Simpson and Piggott will reward the
reader with an insight into the limits and the powers of pre-
history. On the one hand, the warnings and misgivings about
which Olson, Case and Zuckerman and many others have written
concerning the conclusions of scientific prehistory are clearly
borne out." Yet, on the other hand, the reader will be struck
'^ EAD, n, 87.
" EAD, I, 129-34.
27 ,
Cf. Olson, EAD, I, 532-37; E. C. Case, " The Dilemma of the Paleontologist,"
in Contributions from the Museum of Paleontology, Vol. IX, No. 5 (University of
Michigan, 1951) p. 180; Zuckerman's statements quoted in E. O. Dodson, Evolu-
tion: Process and Product (New York, 1960) p. 197.
338 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
by the value of the conclusions which are obtained by pains-
taking methods in this most inaccessible of scientific materials
— the events which took place millions of years ago, unwit-
nessed by any human being.^^ A patient study of the methods
of geology, archaeology and paleontology manifests two signifi-
cant points: (1) " facts " based upon evidence and inference
proper to scientific prehistory are sui generis, and, in them-
selves, highly conjectural and logically tentative; and (2) the
convergence of prehistoric " facts " with the evidence and in-
ferences drawn from neo-science (biology, anthropology, etc.)
yields an unexpected reasonable basis for a series of important
convictions about what happened during these past eons of
time. Scientific prehistory should neither be overstated, nor
underrated, in its ability to resolve some of the problems of
origins.^®
Fact as a Reasonable Conviction
Remembering the distinctions made thus far about the way
the term " fact," whether from evidence or inference, is used
variously in the sciences depending upon the availability of
such evidence and inference, it becomes easier to understand
what is meant by the statement made by Olson, and repeated
at the Darwin Centennial Celebration:
Organic evolution — the process of orderly change of successive gen-
erations through time — does occur and apparently has occurred
for the total period of life on the earth. There can be many theories
of how it occurred, each of which may explain part or all of what
has been observed, and these theories may be in complete conflict
without invalidating the basic fact of evolution.
30
In the first place, Olson recognizes, as do all those who take
the pains to qualify their conclusions with the appropriate
"^ Good introduction to the methods of prehistory can be found in G. G. Simpson,
Life of the Past (New Haven, 1953) and J. R. Beerbower, Search for the Past
(Englewood CHffs, N. J, 1960) .
'^ Tendency to underrate scientific prehistory is a limitation of works such as
G. H. Duggan, S. M., Evolution and Philosophy (Wellington, New Zealand, 1959) .
"" EAD, I, 527.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 339
caution, that he is speaking of a " basic fact " of prehistory, not
of history, not of physics, nor of chemistry, biology, etc. (ex-
cept in the supplementary sense upon which we shall soon
elaborate) , Whence comes this general agreement about this
prehistoric " fact "? Insofar as any conclusion can be drawn
from the evidence and inference proper to prehistory, every
reasonable objective doubt has been removed, and the evi-
dence has converged with such consistency that a firm, reason-
able conviction has been generated in the minds of those who
have expertly explored the problem. Le Gros Clark puts it
clearly this way:
It is an interesting question, but one which is not easily answered —
just at what point in the gradual accumulation of circumstantial
evidence (as we have in evolution) can the latter be accepted as
adequate for demonstrating the truth of a proposition.'' Perhaps the
most we can say is that, in practice, this point is mainly determined
by the multiplicity of independent sources from which this evi-
dence is derived; if several lines of argument based upon apparently
unrelated data converge on, and mutually support, the same general
conclusion, the probability that this conclusion is correct may
appear so high as to carry conviction to the mind of the unbiased
observer.^^
Let it be noted that Olson's " basic fact of evolution," like
Dobzhansky's statement quoted earlier, is in the logical order
of " probability so high as to carry conviction to the mind of
the unbiased observer." Without disparaging the logical quality
of the phrase " fact of evolution," it remains in the order of
probability , not in the order of certainty. By its very nature,
evolutionary theory relies on proof and demonstration, the
inferences of which have all or most doubts removed, but do
not claim the security that the case could not be otherwise.
Indeed, for the scientific prehistorian, he might wonder that
anyone would raise the question whether he meant by the " fact
of evolution " that it was objectively certain and could not be
otherwise. He would insist that his science produced proofs of
^^ " The Crucial Evidence for Human Evolution," in American Scientist, 47
(1959) 299-300.
340 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
the kind described by Le Gros Clark — so highly probable that
the unbiased, objective observer must be convinced by the
convergence of disparate but mutually supporting evidence.
No more, no less. This is what a prehistoric fact means to the
prehistorian.
In this sense, evolution is a " fact " as opposed to a mere
hypothesis which has not the documentation sufficient to re-
move doubt and generate the conviction described. Evolution
is a " fact " as opposed to a theory among theories of reputa-
tion, as the " steady-state " theory is opposed to the " pul-
sating universe " theory in cosmology .^^ Evolution, as defined
by Olson, abstracting from the various hypotheses concerning
how the process took place, enjoys the status of having no other
reasonable natural explanation of the converging evidence to
oppose it with sufficient evidential support to produce high
probability or conviction. Evolution is a " fact " as opposed to
a low degree of probability. On certain levels, e. g. on the level
of organic evolution, the degree of probability is high. What the
phrase " evolution is a fact " does not mean, however, is that
it now enjoys the status of demonstration which generates the
certitude of direct observation or inference which follows so
necessarily from that observation that it could not be otherwise.
Thus it is readily seen how the statements of Dobzhansky,
Olson, Simpson, Huxley and others at the Darwin Convention,
who constantly used the phrase " fact of evolution," were not
unequivocally in opposition to the statements made by some
philosophers and theologians in their attempts at a dialogue
upon common issues. The two quotations from Humani
Generis above, for example, assert that evolution has not been
fully proved even in the domain of natural sciences and that
those transgress liberty of discussion who act as if the origin
of the human body from pre-existing and living matter were
already completely certain and proved by facts which have
been discovered up to now and by reasoning on those facts.
It is of capital importance to understand these statements of
*" EAD, 1, 32-33.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 341
Pope Pius XII in the context, not of a biological treatise, but
of a theological treatise. He was not concerned about bio-
logical or anthropological methodology; he was not writing a
paper for the Darwin Centennial Celebration, He was writing
a theological document, using the language proper to the readers
to whom it was addressed, namely, the outstanding theologians
and philosophers of the Catholic Church. He was writing pri-
marily for those Catholics who were familiar with the logical
distinctions between those arguments which generate certitude
and those which conclude only to a degree of probability. The
reason was evident. Theologians have to evaluate carefully
the degree of probability of scientific propositions in order to
place them properly in the context of another source of truth —
Divine Revelation.
Pope Pius XII was not questioning the validity of the con-
cepts of prehistory as synthetic models organizing much of
organic or even cosmic science; he was not controverting the
evolution of species or even the possible organic relationship of
the human body to other primates. He was using traditional
logical concepts of certitude, probability, rhetorical convictions,
in order to show that many evolutionary propositions do not
enjoy certitude but only a limited degree of probability and
that there are many elements of evolutionary teaching which
are still seriously controverted — a fact which Olson and others
took great pains to point out to the Convention. For these
reasons, therefore, the " fact of evolution " could not be placed
in opposition to matters of Divine Faith as a truth known to be
demonstrated with certitude.
It is manifest from the context of Humani Generis what
Pope Pius XII wished to do, namely, to call seriously into ques-
tion whether the " fact of evolution " explains the existence of
all things and supports the monistic and pantheistic opinion
that the world is in continual e volution. ^^ He by no means
contradicts the assertions of Dobzhansky, Le Gros Clark,
Olson and others that the objective observer, looking without
^^ Humani Generis, ed. dt., p. 6.
342 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
bias at the converging evidence, must be convinced of the very
high probabiHty that evolution has taken place. He does not
address himself to that problem; he merely advises professional
caution. The proposition he does controvert is that the " fact
of evolution " applies equally and unequivocally to the origin
of all cosmic entities; the universe, the nebulae, the stars, the
elements, life, diversity of organisms, man's body, his mind,
culture and society, morals, religion, language and art. In fact,
Humani Generis controverts just what the Darwin Centennial
Celebration controverted when it manifestly showed that the
phrase " fact of evolution " applies equivocally to many scien-
tific disciplines, and to some areas, not at all. Let us see what
happened at the Darwin Centennial in its application of the
concept " fact of evolution."
The Fact of Evolution
Whether there is presently sufficient converging evidence for
the reasonable and unanimous (among scientists) conviction
that monophyletic descent with modification accounts for the
variety of organic species, including man, on the earth was
not even discussed at the Darwin Centennial Convention. As
Simpson wrote in his The Meaning of Evolution (1949) , the
evidence is in and the case has been fairly adjudicated. As-
suming two essential propositions: (1) that a natural explana-
tion, consonant with what we know now in neo-biology about
organic development, is available; and, (2) that extrapolation,
analogy and indirect convergent proof be allowed where direct
proof is unavailable; then, the accumulation of arguments
found in any good modern text-book on evolution suffice to
convince the unbiased and objective observer that evolution
has, in fact, taken place. ^^
Indeed, the case for the prehistoric fact of organic evolution
is a very good one. Biologists no longer question it, that is to
say, they have no reasonable doubts about the connected series
of natural events distributing organic species in space and
^* The Meaning of Evolution (New Haven, 1949) pp. 4-5.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 343
time. They do debate the relative advantages of the mechan-
ism of evolution proposed by the neo-Darwinian, the macro-
mutation-saltation, or some form of Lamarckian theory. But,
as Olson says, even if one or all of these explanations prove
inadequate, no one would seriously doubt that the evolutionary
series of organic events occurred. ^^ What is the basis for this
assurance .f*
There is not sufficient space here to give an adequate sum-
mary of the converging evidence for monophyletic descent with
modification, and unless the reader realizes the full impact of
each piece of converging evidence, he is quite likely to take a
negative and dialectically critical view and reject the evidence
as logically inconclusive. As a mere dialectician, he is prone
to ask more of the evidence and the inference than possibly can
be made available, and fail to appreciate how very convincing
the evidence, taken together, really is. The following considera-
tions constitute the essential elements of this converging
evidence.
In the first place, the paleontological record needs a natural
explanation consistent with neo-biology. Reject this propo-
sition and you place the question of origins outside the domain
of natural science, and must invoke catastrophic theories, preter-
natural influences, divine interventions by miracles, etc. which
would be both bad science, bad natural philosophy and bad
theology.^" Scientific prehistory shows a series of origins and
developments from the pre-Cambrian period over 500,000,000
years ago to the present which leaves no doubt among dis-
interested observers that there was a series of successive origins
of plants and animals. Most of the species of plants and
animals that we know today are quite recent in the fossil record,
^' EAD, I, 527.
^* The natural philosopher would abhor a jumbled, disorderly concourse of un-
related natural events as totally out of keeping with natural laws. Natura non jacit
saltus. The theologian would abhor the thought of God specially and immediately
creating, for example, distinct species of finches for each of the several Galapagos
Islands at different times (multiply this miraculous intervention by the hundreds
of thousands!) for it goes directly contrary to the theological axiom that God
ordinarily orders all things wisely through secondary causes.
344 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
and good phyletic sequences of origins have been established by
scientific prehistory. This series includes the fossil evidence
for some structural development of homo sapiens. The only
available natural explanation which does not conflict with the
natural processes which are manifest in geology and neo-
biology is the evolutionary one, common descent with modi-
fication.
On the infra-specific level, Ford's field work on the moth
and the selective forces at work in modifying the species sup-
ports the concept of natural modification in species and varie-
ties; Dobzhansky's work (and others) on Drosophila give con-
vergent support to the theory of common descent with modi-
fication from the standpoint of mutation of genes and the sur-
vival of such mutation within the population. On the generic
level, the amazing series of freshwater molluscs Pauludina can
be traced in a single 300 foot deposit: nine species with more
and more complicated shells emerge from one smooth-shelled
species. Equally significant is the same kind of evidence found
in English chalk of the Micraster (sea urchin) series. On the
Family level, the Equidae (horse) series elaborated by Marsh
and Simpson is most striking. Twelve to fifteen genera of
horses can be traced with convincing dialectic and fossil docu-
mentation from the Eocene period, 60 million years ago, to the
present living genus, Equus. Similar studies, though not quite
so convincing perhaps, have been made among the ammonites,
camels, swine, crocodiles and fishes."
Taken singly, any one series is established with the use of
a scientific methodology which is vulnerable to the stringent
rules of demonstrative logic. Yet, remembering the singular
nature of the problem of origins and the only methods natural
science has at its disposal, it is not certain demonstrative proof
that we are after, but that high degree of convergent proba-
bility which produces conviction and removes all reasonable
doubt.
^' Cf. Dodson, op. cit., and especially, the symposium Genetics, Paleontology
and Evolution, ed. by Jepson, Mayr and Simpson (Princeton, 1949) ,
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 345
With the paleontological record objectively before us, and
the series of simpler forms to the more complex appearing in
distinct periods of space and time, let us see how all the disci-
plines of neo-organic science contribute buttressing, yet diver-
gent, arguments in support of common descent with modifica-
tion. Again, limited space allows only a schematic summary.
In biogeography, the area which was so convincing to Darwin,
we find biogeographical realms, discontinuous distribution and
exological zones. Within the local areas, we find marvelous re-
semblance and adaptation to the particular environment. These
singular conditions can best be explained by common descent
with modification. How else can the distribution of distinct
species of finches on the various islands of Galapagos be ex-
plained, species which so closely resemble the genera of finches
on the South American mainland.'^
In taxonomy, the classification of plants and animals, a mar-
velously delicate hierarchical relationship is manifested, just
what would be expected from common phylogenetic descent
with modification. As Darwin had put it " the only known
biological explanation for close similarity in nature (among
organisms) is common descent." ^® This statement is not uni-
versally true, as more recent studies have shown,^*^ but the
argument is dialectically sound and weighty. Taxonomic rela-
tionship is best explained by common descent with modification.
A similar convergent argument is contributed from the mor-
phological sciences, e. g. anatomy and physiology. A study of
the organ systems of animals manifests a phyletic prototype
which is varied from class to class, family to family, etc. These
homologies and analogies are best explained by common de-
scent with modification. In embryology, the student finds that
individuals of different species (e. g. the hog, calf, rabbit and
man) pass through embryological stages which are almost
identical, a fact which is best explained by common decent
** The Origin of Species, Chapter XIV (6th ed.; Modem Library) , p. 320.
*^ The trend called " parallel evolution " is described in Simpson's Life of the
Past, pp. 127 ff.
346 RAYMOND J. NOGAK
with modification. From cytology and biochemistry, other
arguments are advanced. For instance, protoplasm, blood, hor-
mones and enzymes show properties which are remarkably
similar in large groups of animals. This is best explained by
descent with modification.'"'
These basic observations and generalizations from the several
departments of biology could be multiplied and detailed with
endless documentation, but this summary must suffice to give
the uninitiated reader some sense of the convergence of argu-
ment and the buttressing strength of the contribution of neo-
biology to the general argument of organic prehistory. Again,
close study of any fundamental textbook on evolution will
guarantee two important insights: (1) the special kind of
answer one must expect from a natural investigation of origins
— its limits, if you will; and (2) within this context, the power
of the argument, the high probability which the convergence
of evidence generates among those who view the question of
origins impartially.
As a member of the animal kingdom, the species homo
sapiens is included in the general arguments above. Physical
anthropology has used the scientific methods of prehistory with
almost uncanny effectiveness to produce a series of hominoid
descent with modification comparable to the best phylogenetic
series among the other mammals. A classification of skulls
(and other fossilized parts) , based upon several fundamental
characters, which, taken together, comprise a total morpho-
logical pattern distinguishing the anthropoid ape skull from
the hominoid type skull, reveals a graduated series rivalling
that of Equidae. From Australopithecus (500,000-1,000,000
years ago) through Pithecanthropus (200,000-500,000) repre-
sented by Java and Pekin man, Pre-Mousterian (100,000-
200,000) represented by Steinheim, Fontechevade and Swans-
combe, Early Mousterian (50,000-100,000) represented by Mt.
Carmel in Palestine and others in Europe, to Late Mousterian
and Modern Man (about 50,000) represented by the Neander-
*" See Dodson, op. cit., for full treatment of these arguments.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 347
thals on one branch and modern European man on the other,
we find surprising fossil documentation of descent with modifi-
cation of the human body.'^ To the physical anthropologist,
the weakness lies not so much in this series of developments,
but rather in the lack of fossils connecting Australopithecus
wdth the fossil hominoids (great apes) of the Pliocene and Mio-
cene eras. Le Gros Clark admits that mere extrapolation back-
wards in the absence of concrete fossil evidence is not a satis-
fying procedure.^" This hiatus is disturbing, but not of such
proportions as to shake the general conviction that homo
sapiens is biologically related to the rest of the animal kingdom
in a natural continuum, even though much important evidence
remains to be uncovered. What the paleoanthropologist does
have by way of documentation of the " fact of physical evolu-
tion " of man is very good.
The Fact of Cosmic Evolution
In the Darwin Centennial Celebration papers, as has been
stated, the question whether evolution is a fact was barely
alluded to. It was taken for granted. ^^ The issue of the Cen-
tennial was far more extensive in scope. The burden of the
papers and the panel discussions was to show that the concept
of evolution (and especially the neo-Darwinian interpretation)
was valid in every major scientific discipline. The " fact of evo-
lution," it was asserted, can and should be extended to the
origin of mind, culture, life, the cosmos itself and all it contains.
It was in this extension of evolutionary thought to the problem
of origins in every field that the Centennial papers. Evolution
After Darwin, provided expert commentaries of great value.
A careful analysis of the way the concept " fact of evolu-
tion " is used in the fields outside biology reveals a fact of con-
siderable importance. The concept " fact of evolution," valid
in the matter of organic origins and diversity as described
*^ W. E. Le Gros Clark, The Fossil Evidence jor Huinan Evolution (Chicago,
1955).
" Ibid., p. 163. " EAD, III, 107.
348 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
above, becomes equivocal as it is applied to the origin of life,
chemicals, stars, nebulae, mind, language, culture. Neither
" fact " nor " evolution " retain the same meaning, and the
evidence and inferences are of another kind, varying from disci-
pline to discipline. In point of fact, there is gi-eat uncertainty
that the concept " fact of evolution " is relevant in some areas
of scientific study. This element of equivocation in terminology,
in evidence and in inference, is often completely overlooked,
and the degree of conviction generated in the biological sciences
is by no means present to the same degree in some of the other
areas of science.
This mutation in evolutionary concept as the observer goes
from one field to the next is of greatest importance in evalu-
ating the scientific dimensions of evolutionary theory. The
problem is treated in detail elsewhere,** and can only be touched
upon here by a few examples drawn from the Centennial
papers. Applying the hypothesis of evolution to the origin of
life, H. Gaffron compared the status of the " fact of evolution "
in biology to that of biochemical biopoesis (the natural origin
of life from the inorganic) . After admitting the conviction
generated by convergence of evidence in biology, he states:
The situation in respect to biopoesis is exactly the reverse. There
is nice theory, but no shred of evidence, no single fact whatever,
forces us to believe in it. What exists is only the scientists' wish
not to admit a discontinuity in nature and not to assume a creative
act forever beyond comprehension.*^
The acceptance of the " fact of evolution " of life from non-
life is based upon a conviction of an entirely different kind. The
biologist and the biochemist look across a chasm which is filled
only by a combination of imagination, extrapolation, human
faith and a lively hope. This is not to disparage research in
biopoesis, for out of this combination emerge working hypo-
theses with which the problem of biopoesis may one day be
** R. J. Nogar, O. P., " Evolution: Its Scientific and Philosophical Dimensions,"
St. John's University Studies, ed. Vincent E. Smith (Jamaica, N. Y., 1961) Series 3.
*^EAD, I, 45.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 349
solved. But today the concept " fact of evolution " cannot be
applied to the origin of life except in this equivocal sense. Evi-
dence and proper inference is lacking at the present stage of
investigation.
When the concept " fact of evolution " is applied to the
origin of chemical and physical elements, an even greater
degree of equivocation on the terms " fact " and " evolution "
is present. Smart/^ Urey,*^ Fowler ^^ and others are very
guarded about the extremely hypothetical nature of the knowl-
edge concerning the formation of the elements of our own
system. Highly tentative backward extrapolation and reason-
ing from analogies with our present system of elements, coupled
with many alternative theories, all enjoying some reputation,
give another meaning to the phrase " fact of evolution " of the
elements. As Shapley's paper on the evidence for inorganic
evolution plainly manifests, the origin of the universe is hardly
a scientific question at all, and the theories about the course of
the universe's prehistory alternate between some one-way
process and a cyclic process, a steady-state and an expanding
universe depleting its energy.*^ The degree of conviction gen-
erated in these cosmic sciences is not so great as to rule out
serious doubts and alternative explanations, and the meaning
and status of the " fact of evolution " is equivocal.
Almost without exception, the Darwin Centennial panelists
and those who submitted papers for Evolution After Darwin
agreed that when the organic process introduced homo sapiens
upon the cosmic scene, the concept of the " fact of evolution "
radically changed. Man may be terminal to a somatic-germinal
evolution determined in part at least by the forces and mechan-
isms of selection and mutation which were operative in all the
other higher animals, but once the species homo sapiens evolved,
his evolution was no longer to be manifested in human body
" The Origin of the Earth, Chapter 10 (Cambridge, Eng., 1951).
*^ The Planets: Their Origin and Development (New Haven, 1952) p. 11.
*® See the analysis of scientific cosmology in M. K. Munitz, Space, Time and
Creation (Glencoe, Bl., 1957).
" BAD, I, 33.
350 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
50
and gene complexes but rather in psychological potentialities
Kroeber, Washburn, Howell, Hallowell, Critchley, Hilgard,
Brosin, Piggott, Steward and Tax asserted in their professional
contributions that the " fact of evolution " of man's mind, his
language, his culture, his society, has a very limited and equi-
vocal usage in comparison to its use in biology, Hallowell
rejects, with Hilgard, the notion that there are no differences,
except quantitative ones, betwen the learning of lower animals
and man," and Steward goes so far as to say:
This paper is largely an admission of the general uncertainty now
surrounding the concept of cultural evolution ... In the physical
and biological universes, evolution implies change which can be
formulated in principles that operate at all times and places, al-
though the particular principles of biological evolution differ from
those of the physical realm. Expectably, or at least by analogy,
then, cultural evolution should contain its own distinctive prin-
ciples, which also underlie cultural change. By this criterion, no one
has yet demonstrated cultural evolution. (Italics added.)
52
These papers on cultural anthropology, archaeology, psy-
chology and language not only show this radical change in the
concept of evolution as it is applied to man, but they even show
a strong tendency to ignore the concept of man's prehistory and
concentrate upon man as he is now known to be the fashioner
of his own future. Scientifically, man is best known, not in what
he was in his prehistory, but in what he presently is and does.
The " fact of man's evolution " is a concept which is most
equivocal; it is a concept which seems to be becoming obsolete
in the sciences of human behavior and activity.
53
The Fact of Evolution: A Summing Up
When we hear or read the statement that evolution is now
no longer a theory but a fact, and should be taught as such,
a healthy response to the statement should include neither the
panic of complete and irrational skepticism or denial, nor the
^"For example, Huxley, EAD, I, 19; Tax, EAD, III, 280.
" EAD, II, 360. " EAD, II, 182-83. "« EAD, II, 16.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 351
excessively uncritical naivete of the statement made to science
teachers attending the last session of the five day Panel at the
Darwin Centennial Celebration:
Properly taught, the knowledge which our students gain should
produce in them a sense of the universality of evolutionary pro-
cesses, from the prebiological molecular level through the pre-
human world to man with his physical, mental, and sociocultural
development, thus integrating the physical, biological, and social
sciences, and, through history, the humanities. This sense of change
leads to the habit of " thinking of reality in terms of process "
rather than in terms of static situations/*
Careful delineation of the wide varity of meaning attached to
the concept " fact of evolution " gives us a well focused view of
both the power and the limits of evolutionary theory. The
theory is a very complicated combination of univocal, ana-
logous and equivocal statements, especially when an attempt is
made to apply it to every scientific area of study. Some of these
statements are strongly supported by evidence and securely
drawn inferences; others are hopeful hypotheses and arbitrary
assertions. Perhaps Beckner's summary of evolution theory in
biology is a fair evaluation of evolutionary thought in general:
My own view is that evolution theory consists of a family of related
models; that most evolutionary explanations are based upon as-
sumptions that, in the individual case, are not highly confirmed;
but that the various models in the theory provide evidential sup-
port for their neighbors.^^
Part II: To the Philosophy of Evolutionism
As long as the " fact of evolution " is understood in its wide
variety of equivocal senses, variously substantiated with that
degree of probability presently afforded by the methodology
used in each scientific discipline, the true value of the diachronic
"J. C. Mayfield, "Using Modern Knowledge to Teach Evolution in High
Schools," Graduate School of Education Symposium of the Darwin Centennial
Celebration. (Chicago, 1960) p. 7.
" M. Beckner, The Biological Way of Thought (New York, 1959) p. 160.
352 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
concept can be seen. Not only does a process of evolution add
a dynamic space-time dimension to our understanding of the
cosmos, but the evolutionary theory also provides a concept
of synthesis for many disparate scientific approaches. Beckner
observes:
Evolution theory is of philosophical interest because of the way it
integrates principles of the most diverse sorts, but, in addition, it is
of interest because here we find the most diverse patterns of concept
formation and explanation unified in a single theory .^^
For many scientists and observers, this quality of unifying
the work of many sciences, of integrating the explanations and
approaches of diverse disciplines, is the outstanding contribu-
tion of evolutionary theory. It is commonly said that Darwin
did for biology and the life sciences what Newton did for
classical physics. The very crucial question is raised by Beck-
ner, and others at the Darwin Convention, whether, in fact,
evolutionary theory provides an integration by way of a con-
structural model (or series of models) which is able to embrace
the research of many sciences, or whether it provides universal
laws, like Newton's laws of motion, the laws of conservation
of mass and energy, the laws of thermodynamics. Mental con-
structs are universalized only in the imagination; universal laws
are causal and necessitate the events of which they are causal.
If there is a universal cosmic law of evolution (or laws) , then
it can be turned into an ultimate philosophical principle of
the origins of cosmic entities, as some assert. If there is no
universal cosmic law of evolution demonstrated by science,
then no such philosophical generalizations are valid and the
" fact of evolution," so far as a synthetic principle is concerned,
remains a very useful construct but is non-causal, as others
assert. The answer to this question is crucial, jor it determines
whether philosophies or ideologies ^^ of evolutionism have bases
which are scientifically established in the laws of nature.
^Ubid., p. 160.
" For useful distinction between a true philosophy and an ideology, see W. O.
Martin, Metaphysics and Ideology (Milwaukee, 1959)
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 353
Are There Laws of Evolution?
If we can model our discussion of natural laws upon the
methods of physics, the science which has for several centuries
set the pace for methodological procedure, three closely inter-
related tasks must be performed in establishing a body of
knowledge (1) isolate the phenomena to be studied; (2) de-
scribe unambiguously what is happening; and (3) discern some
specific permanence in the flux of events under observation.
By this process, for example, the laws of conservation were
formulated/*
We have seen how equivocity enters into the very texture of
evolutionary theory at every level of the " fact." Consequently,
in this difficult question of prehistory and origins, there is a
special and sometimes insurmountable difficulty in knowing
whether the first two conditions above are satisfied. Isolating
facts of prehistory and describing them unambiguously is, by
the very nature of the problem, a large order. Assuming the
most complete and reliable analyses of phylogenies, however,
can we discern some specific permanence in the flux of events
under observation.'^
B. Rensch takes up the problem of the " laws of evolution "
in his paper for the Centennial Convention, and the question of
the direction of evolution was fully discussed.^'' At first sight,
it seems that in the flow of evolutionary events many laws can
be formulated: (1) the law of increasing complexity; (2) the
law of progressive speciation of phyletic branches; (3) the law
of increasing size; (4) the law of migrations; (5) the law of
adaptive radiation; (6) the law of irreversibility (Dollo's law) ;
(7) the law of evolutionary continuity, etc.''° Rensch lists sixty
different rules which seem to have the quality of regularity,
and he admits that they can be multiplied indefinitely.*^^ But
** G. Holton, Introduction to Concepts and Theories in Physical Science (Cam-
bridge, 1952) p. 278. ^,
68 ><
60
61
" The Laws of Evolution," BAD, I, 95-116. /< \C»M /^
R. Collin, Evolution (New York, 1959) p. 55. -^^'^^^''''''Tr*^*^
EAD,T,UO. /oYo^*
354 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
the curious fact about these " laws of evolution " is that they
have no universal character. They are verified in limited areas
only and admit of many exceptions. For this reason, biologists
prefer to call them " rules " and " trends " rather than laws.''"
More importantly, the rules or trends are not attributes of
evolutionary process, but are restrictive limitations on the pro-
cess imposed by the existing fundamental laws of neo-science.
As Rensch points out:
The large number of general rules quoted above may be sufficient
to show that, in spite of primary undirectedness, evolutionary alter-
ations occur in forced directions to a large degree. After all, every
generalization in the field of biology means a restriction of evolu-
tionary possibilities. (Italics added.)
63
Dobzhansky confirms this observation that evolutionary pat-
tern, though showing trends, is historical only, and nothing in
the known history of life on earth compels one to believe that
the evolution of organisms is predetermined to change in one
direction only.*'* All the discussants at the Convention agreed
that evolutionary process is unique, non-recurrent and irre-
versible, even though " trends " can be detected which show
that the process is non-random. The course of evolution shows,
generally, three stages: diversification, transformation and sta-
bilization. But the process itself cannot be predicted, is unique
and contingent, cannot be reversed (by which laws of nature
are formulated) and is, by its very nature, historical. '^^
The upshot of this analysis is of capital importance. The
laws of nature, which are formulated in the neo-sciences about
the universe as we now know it, are truly universalized; they
are the laws of permanence, typical and verifiable by repetition
and reversibility. The rules of evolutionary process, on the
other hand, are contingent, non-reversible, unpredictable and
bear the stamp of restriction based upon the natural laws of
'" Simpson, EAD, I, 167; Collin, loc. cit.
"EAD,I, 111.
" EAD, I, 405.
*^ G. G. Simpson, The Major Features of Evolution (New York, 1953) p. 312.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 355
neo-science, the laws of permanence. Strictly speaking, then,
there is no universal law of evolution: there is only historical
(jyrehistorical) process.
Enter: Philosophies of EvolutionisTn
The importance of this last point cannot be overestimated.
It is precisely at this major point that evolutionary theory
provides an illegitimate extrapolation, often quite surreptitious,
from a partially documented and very useful model called the
" fact of evolution " into the realm of philosophy or ideology
based upon an undocumented and thoroughly controverted
" law of evolution." The supposition of a universal, causal,
cosmic law of evolution is not a valid inference from any known
series of natural facts or laws established by science.
It is absolutely necessary to disengage the philosophies based
upon this false supposition from the scientific evolution in order
to clear the air of many ambiguities which impede not only the
educated person's understanding of evolution, but also the dis-
cussions among science, philosophy and theology. It is often
wrongly thought, for instance, that the theological document
Huinani Generis quoted above is an unenlightened veto of the
biological " fact of evolution." A close reading, however, will
show that Pope Pius XII was repudiating, rather, the philoso-
phies of evolutionism, whether they be mechanistic and mon-
istic, or dialectical materialism, or the life-philosophies of
historicism and existentialism.''® Without denying a single piece
of scientific evidence or a single legitimate inference, and even
encouraging the useful research into origins of all cosmic en-
tities including man's body, he was denying that there is a
shred of evidence from the natural sciences to prove that evo-
lution is a cosmic law that explains the origin of all things,
a law which repudiates all that is absolute, firm and immutable
and gives value only to events and their history .''''
Unfortunately, there are many scientists, as well as philoso-
*' Humani Generis, pp. 6-7.
"^ Ibid.
356 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
phers and theologians, who fail to draw the line between their
scientific foundations which are firmly supported by evidence
and their philosophical, or, more generally, ideological specu-
lations. At one moment, they speak about biological or an-
thropological or cosmic evolution, and suddenly, without warn-
ing— and perhaps without knowing it themselves — they univer-
salize evolutionary theory into a causal cosmic law and begin
to draw philosophical conclusions about the universe in which
we live. To the observer untrained in the logical arts, evolu-
tionism, historicism, existentialism, mechanistic or even dia-
lectical materialism may seem to be the necessary consequences
of contemporary " evolutionary fact."
A few examples taken from current scientific thinking on the
subject of evolutionary theory will illustrate this unwarranted
extrapolation from the " fact of evolution " to the " philosophy
of evolutionism." Rensch, after enumerating scores of rules of
evolution, says:
It was necessary to enumerate these rules, in order to evaluate the
degree by which the primary undirectedness is changed into a
forced evolution . . . (Italics added.) ®^
He then infers that the evolutionary rules and laws are complex
manifestations of the universal laws of causality, and that each
epigenetic development of the process was necessarily deter-
mined and implicit in the former stages through the universal
laws of causality.^® His final conclusion follows:
Summing up, we may assume that the whole evolution of the
cosmos including the evolution of living beings, was pre-existing in
consequence of the " eternal " cosmic laws of causality, parallelism
and logic. However, up to now, such an assumption can be only
a philosophical working hypothesis.^"
In Rensch's statement there is some token of warning that
this inference is really an assumption in the philosophical
order. Other scientists, however, argue a more direct philoso-
phy of evolutionism from the data of the " fact of evolution "
''EAD, I, 110. "EAD, I, 113. '" Loc. cit.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 357
as though, from the evidence of biological evolution, there is
but one philosophical inference available: a monistic, mechan-
istic historical unfolding which is the cause and explanation of
the origin and diversity of life and living things. Simpson, for
example, after admitting that inorganic evolution is a special
case, concludes:
Evolution is, then, a completely general principle of life and is a
fully natural process, inherent in the physical properties of the
universe, by which life arose in the first place (biopoesis) and by
which all living things, past or present, have since developed,
divergently and progressively."^
The reader will note carefully that the prehistoric process of the
origin and development of life, including man, is generalized
into a physical law by which an immanent natural process
necessitates the present order of living things. Simpson, after
admitting that the " ultimate mystery," the origin of the uni-
verse and the source of the laws or physical properties of
matter, energy, space and time are presently unknown to
science, goes on:
Nevertheless, once those properties are given, the theory demon-
strates that the whole evolution of life could well have ensued, and
probably did ensue, automatically, as a natural consequence of the
immanent laws and successive configurations of the material cosmos.
There is no need, at least, to postulate any non-natural or meta-
physical intervention in the course of evolution.^
72
He everywhere insists that there are no universal laws of evo-
lution "^ and that the process of evolution is a unique, irrever-
sible and directionless historical sequence of events. ^^ Yet here
he insists that the " fact of evolution," as we know it for
living things, even in their origin from the inorganic world,
demonstrates a causal, automatic process resulting from " the
immanent laws and successive configurations of the material
cosmos." And with this " demonstration," he rules out scien-
tifically the possibility of any vitalistic or finalistic explanation
^' " The World Into Which Darwin Led Us," Science, 131 (Apr. 1, 1960), p. 969,
" Ibid., p. 972. '" E. g., EAD, I, 167. '* Ibid., p. 173.
358 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
of the evolutionary process. The fact that he goes so far as to
label any opposition either " lower superstition " or " higher
superstition " is of rhetorical importance, manifesting clearly
the personal philosophical intensity of his vie\vs/°
It is crucial to evolutionary analysis to detect the steps which
are taken in the mental process by which what is known about
prehistory can be gradually universalized into a philosophical
principle of cosmic development without even noticing the ille-
gitimate inference. In a restricted sense, evolution can be called
a fact, but we must have a care for equivocation. In no sense
is evolution a law of the cosmos; it cannot be so generalized.
Here the false step is taken:
For, where comparative anatomy offers only probability, paleon-
tology brings certitude. Paleontology becomes, because of the
breadth of its conclusions, a truly philosophical science.^
76
By some giant mutation of insight, science demonstrates that
the historical process is immanently necessitated by the physi-
cal properties of the elements to produce increasing complexi-
ties, and that is simply all there is to the process. What began
as scientific prehistory has suddenly become a life-philosophy
of historicism, and its basis is " a necessary inference from sci-
ence itself." A biological theory has become a monistic, mecha-
nistic, historicist, life-philosophy of the cosmos by an illogical
leap that remains to most observers completely undetected.
Huxley finds it easy to draw this conclusion from the scientific
findings of prehistory:
All reality is in a perfectly proper sense evolution, and its essen-
tial features are to be sought not in the analysis of static structures
or reversible changes but through the study of the irrevocable
patterns of evolutionary transformations."
" " The World Into Which Darwin Led Us," ed. cit., p. 973.
^* M. Vandel, quoted by Msgr. B. de Solages, " Christianity and Evolution,"
translated by H. Blair for Cross Currents from the Bulletin de Litterature Ecclesi-
astique, no. 4, 1947.
'''Review of Life of the Past by G. G. Simpson, Scientific American, CLXXXIX
(1953), 88.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 359
Philosophies of evolutionism, and they are as old as Hera-
clitus, are distinct from scientific evolutionary theory, and they
take various shapes and meanings depending upon their pri-
mary assumptions. After Darwin, however, the various ide-
ologies began to be framed in the context of evolutionary
science, and the names Spenser, Marx, James, Bergson, Le Roy,
Dilthey and Jaspers come to mind as representing some ex-
pression of a philosophy of evolutionism."^ It is, in a limited
sense, true to say that evolutionism, historicism and existen-
tialism are fundamentally identical expressions on different
levels of being: cosmic evolution, evolutionism; mankind's
evolution, historicism; personal evolution, existentialism. The
emergence of ideological expressions of evolutionism from the
scientific study of origins and prehistory, the outstanding fea-
ture of American evolutionary thought in the last decade
(crowned by the Darwin Centennial in 1959) , results from two
dangerous tendencies in scientific thought.
Fundamental Errors
The first of these is the unrestricted and uncritical use of the
scientific device of extrapolation. x4.t the Convention, Olson
warned against its dangers.'^ Simpson declared its limitations.^"
Piggott is severely critical of every form of extrapolation,
whether it be interpolation, interpretation, analogy or any
other form of filling in the gaps of our knowledge with " postu-
lates which fulfill an emotional need." ^^ Case, Le Gros Clark,
Gaffron and many others have tried to make explicit the limits
of this necessary device of scientific prehistory.*' But there is
no doubt that what often appears in text-books and the more
popular expressions of current thought on origins is far from
'* The interrelationship of these ideologies is clearly traced in I. M. Bochenski,
Contemporary European Philosophy (Berkley, 1957) .
'" EAD, I, 532.
^°EAD,I, 121.
^^EAD, II, 92.
*^ E. C. Case, op. cit.; Le Gros Clark, The Fossil Evidence For Human Evolution,
loc. cit.; Gaffron, EAD, I, pp. 44-50.
3G0 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
critical/^ and the fanciful and unlimited use of extrapolation
does much to gloss over the highly tentative nature of evolu-
tionary trends, and, what is worse, seems to give a universal
status to the " fact of evolution," whereas, in point of fact,
there is no such cosmic law.
This first error, the illegitimate use of extrapolation, can be
corrected by caution in applying the device and, above all, by
explicating its use so that the basis for inferences can be seen
clearly. The second error is more deep-seated, both theoreti-
cally and practically. It is what Maritain calls the gnosticisin
of history.^* As the discussants at the Darwin Convention
admitted, the prehistoric process which has been scientifically
recorded and is called " the fact of evolution " is essentially
in the genus of history. It is not science in the sense of the
tested knowledge of reversible natural processes. As Simpson
put it:
That evolution is irreversible is a special case of the fact that
history does not repeat itself. The fossil record and the evolution-
ary sequences that it illustrates are historical in nature, and history
does not repeat itself.^^
Historians reproach the philosophy of history with four
capital sins, accusations which throw a bright light upon the
fallacious extension of authentic scientific evolution to a phi-
losophy of evolutionism. H. Marrou expresses the indictment
this way:
First, its almost inevitably oversimplified, arbitrary and wanton
approach in regard to the choice of materials, the historical value
of which is assumed for the sake of the cause; secondly, its self-
deceptive ambition to get at an a priori explanation of the course
of human history; thirdly, its self-deceptive ambition to get at an
all-inclusive explanation of the meaning of human history; and
fourthly, its self-deceptive ambition to get at a so-called scientific
explanation of history, the word " scientific " being used here in
'* Compare with the above, for example, the article " How Life Began," by
E. A. Evans Jr. in The Saturday Evening Post, Nov. 26, 1960, pp. 25 ff.
®* On the Philosophy of History, ed. J. W. Evans (New York, 1957) p. 31.
*° Major Features of Evolution, p. 312.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 361
this quite peculiar sense, which can be traced back to the sciences
of nature, that with such an explanation our thought enjoys a kind
of intellectual mastery over the subject-matter.^°
This rather vehement reproach can, more quietly, be applied
to the philosophies of evolutionism. Evolution is an historical
process, and, as such, it can have no a 'priori explanation; to
assume one and then arrange materials to document it would
be false to good scientific method. Simpson admits that the
record cannot be read without bias, but bias must be reduced
to a reasonable and defensible minimum,^' Since no true law
of evolution is discernible, evolution cannot have an all-inclu-
sive explanation written into its own process to be divined by
analysis or arbitrary intuition. Evolution is an irreversible
process and therefore cannot be reconstructed according to
necessitating laws. Since evolutionary process can neither be
its own explanation nor reconstructed according to necessitating
laws, scientific evolution cannot he the basis for any philosophy
of evolutionism.
Those who see evolution written into the " laws of nature "
confuse two things: the necessity of the laws of nature and the
contingency of the historical events which run their course
quite naturally. The necessity proper to the laws do not make
the events necessary. As Rensch observed, the laws of biology
restrict evolutionary change; the laws of nature are preserva-
tive, stable, typical, and ever tend to permanence of structure
and function to the most extraordinary degree .^^ The unique,
irreversible, non-lawful, historical process which is the sequence
of contingent events we call evolution is not a law unto itself,
necessitating all things that it elaborates. Evolution, like any
history, can be characterized, interpreted or deciphered in a
certain measure so as to reveal limited general trends, to use
Simpson's term. But the history does not cause, nor necessitate,
nor explain the natures or their laws. The cosmos is not merely
*® Quoted in Maxitain, op. cit., p. 30.
^'EAD, I, 121.
'^ EAD, I, 101
Q a
(i2 RAYMOND J. NOGAR
its history; mankind is not merely its history; a person is not
merely his biography. The cosmos and its natures have his-
tories; mankind has a history; a person has a biography.®'' Since
the " fact of evolution " can never be more than a partially
decipherable series of contingent events, it can never be uni-
versalized into a philosophical principle giving ultimate insight
and interpretation of the cosmos in which we live or our per-
sonal being by which we live. Philosophies of evolutionism, or,
better, ideologies of evolutionism, may appear to be valid infer-
ences from scientific evolution, but, upon close inspection the
appearance is an illusion.
Conclusion: The Rhetoric of Evolutionism
The evolution of life is no long a theory; it is a fact and the basis
of all our thinking. (Italics added.) ®°
By its rhetorical excesses, false philosophy of evolutionism
can readily be detected. In the statement just quoted, Huxley
sounds the dominant note of the final phase of evolutionary
thinking in America, especially prevalent during the past
decade. Taking the " fact of evolution " beyond extrapolation
and even beyond the mere philosophy of evolutionism, he
gives a scientific theory the qualities of a faith with a pro-
phetic mystique. This is no longer science or philosophy; it is a
rhetorical formulation of evolutionism into an easily recogniz-
able personal apologetic. Huxley proclaimed this " new evolu-
tionary vision " in his Convocation address at the Darwin Cen-
tennial Celebration:
In the evolutionary pattern of thought there is no longer either
need or room for the supernatural. The earth was not created; it
evolved. So did all the animals and plants that inhabit it, including
our human selves, mind and soul as well as brain and body. So did
religion. Religions are organs of psychosocial man concerned with
human destiny and with experiences of sacredness and transcen-
89 ,
C. De Koninck, " The Nature of Man and His Historical Being," Laval
Theologique et Philosophique, V (1949), 271.
»» Huxley, EAD, HI, 111.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 363
dence. In their evolution, some (but by no means all) have given
birth to the concept of gods as supernatural beings . . . they are
destined to disappear in competition with other, truer and more
embracing thought organizations.''^
To him, scientific evolution not only necessitates a new phi-
losophy, it inaugurates a new prophetic vision, a new religious
hypothesis to replace both the old hypotheses of supernatural-
ism and materialism (Marxian Communism) . He develops his
thought:
I submit that the discoveries of physiologj% general biology and
psychology not only make possible, but necessitate, a naturalistic
hypothesis (for religion) , in which there is no room for the super-
natural, and the spiritual forces at work in the cosmos are seen as a
part of nature just as much as the material forces. What is more,
these spiritual forces are one particular product of mental activity
in the broad sense, and mental activity in general is seen to have
increased the intensity and importance during the course of cosmic
time. Our basic hypothesis is thus not merely naturalistic as op-
posed to supernaturalist, but monistic as opposed to dualistic, and
evolutionary as opposed to static.''-
One cannot read the proposal of a new faith called " evo-
lutionary humanism " in Huxley's Religion Without Revela-
tion without sensing strongly the rhetorical attributes which
have accrued to a once scientific dimension of the " fact of
evolution." Huxley's extension of evolutionary thinking to
the position of a vision of the meaning of all reality is serious
because it is done in the name of science. Yet this highly ideo-
logical and personalized explanation of the universe by cosmic
history is filled with obvious gloss of analogy, metaphor and
equivocation. It is extremely subjective, and, in the religious
sense, apologetical. Time is the synthetic factor and the whole
burden of his evolutionary philosophy is rhetorically aimed at
commanding the conviction of the reader in the name and by
the authority of science.
It should not be thought that the rhetorical philosophies of
'^ EAD, m, 252-53.
"" Religion Without Revelation (New York, 1957) p. 187.
8G4 KAYMOND J. NOGAR
evolutionism are confined to the exponents of atheistic human-
ism (Huxley) or atheistic materialism (Marxists) . They take
many forms, one of which is found in the writings of those who
claim that the " fact of evolution " necessitates a diametrically
opposed religious hypothesis, namely, a revealed supernatural
religion (Fr. Teilhard de Chardin) . The starting point for the
philosophy of evolutionism is ever the same:
Is evolution a theory, a system or a hypothesis? It is much more:
it is a general condition to which all theories, all hypotheses, all
systems must bow and which they must satisfy henceforward if
they are to be thinkable and true. Evolution is a light illuminating
all facts, a curve that all lines must follow.®^
The vision which follows in The Phenomenon of Man is quite
different in what it prophesies from that of Huxley, for, as the
assumptions are modified, the prehistory of the cosmos tells a
different story. One story ends with an immanent god, man
himself; the other ends with a transcendent God, the God of
the Christian revelation. But the basic rules according to which
both accounts are fashioned are identical.
Whether the suppositions be supernaturally revealed truths,
assumptions of monistic materialism, dialectical materialism
or humanism, the first step is the elevation of the " fact of
evolution " to the status of law, a necessary series of scientifi-
cally demonstrated events. The next step is to elevate the " law
of evolution " to the level of a narrative world- view to which
everything else must bow and in the light of which everything
else must be understood. The third step is to personalize this
new world view with a highly personalized rhetoric of con-
viction.
In its final stages, the philosophy of evolutionism is an essen-
tially personalistic, un verifiable intuition, rhetorically involved
in ideological feeling and emotion, using a life-self-cosmos
narration as the key to the meaning of reality. The rhetoric
of evolutionism usually can be distinguished from mere phi-
** T. de Chardin, S. J., The Phenomenon of Man (New York, 1959) p. 218.
FACT OF EVOLUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVOLUTIONISM 365
losophy of evolutionism by the visionary language of the syn-
thesis. The philosophy of evolutionism can be distinguished
from the scientific " fact of evolution " by its illegitimate
extrapolation and claim to universalization. Thus disengaged,
the fact of evolution can rightly be assessed as one of the most
significant developments of modern science.
Raymond J. Nogar, O. P.
Alhertus Magnus Lyceum
Dominican House of Studies
River Forest, Illinois
THE RHYTHMIC UNIVERSE
UNLESS a modern biologist, who tends to be concerned
exclusively with the ultra-fine structure of genes and
the feed-back mechanisms of hormones, has a broader
outlook fostered by an acquaintance with the humanities and
a sturdy philosophy, the world becomes a strange unreal uni-
verse, apparently far removed from the world he once knew.
This broader view of the universe can have many rewarding
moments, such as those experienced by this writer while visiting
the laboratories of Dr. Frank A. Brown, Jr., at the Marine
Biological Laboratory, Woods Hole, Massachusetts, in the
summer of 1959. Immediately one felt the impact of a research
that was as close to the sea as the laboratory itself. Other
laboratories at the famed MBL had electron miscroscopes,
television microscopes, radiation scalers, and unique and sophis-
ticated apparatus of various sorts; but here in the Brown
laboratory one found much simple, home-made equipment, with
intact animals going through their paces before a group of
trained observers.
Huge water baths regulated the temperature of glass respi-
rometers which housed crabs with their whole oxygen supply
contained in plastic bags. Their every breath was registered
by automatic recording devices. In another room, snails glided
over a marked course, all unaware that their meanderings were
being suggested by the motion of magnets manipulated by
researchers underneath their experimental platform. Fiddler
crabs in a photographic darkroom regularly changed the color
of their skin just as though they were still at home on their
native beaches, becoming white at night and dark in the day-
time, seeming to possess some sort of magic insight into an
outer world from which they were completely isolated. Clams
opened and closed their shells according to a set rhythm and
made recordings of their activities on special devices, while
366
THE RHYTHMIC UNIVERSE 367
crabs ran to and fro or were quiet during regular intervals of
time. This was the picture one got while visiting the laboratory
of one of the outstanding biologists of our time.
When one questioned the biologists who were performing
these experiments as to the type of data they were receiving,
their answers brought many new and interesting facts to light.
The large repository of accumulated and processed data which
they possessed and a number of charts they had prepared, based
on their observations of the behavior and metabolism of the
plants and animals studied, had led the investigators to the
conclusion that all these observed activities, despite every effort
at isolation from the outside, were moving in rhythm with the
motions of the cosmos. Although the organisms were being
studied under conditions of temperature, light and other en-
vironmental factors artificially maintained at an unvarying
constancy, the plants and animals participating remained some-
how in perfect accord with major cosmic or geophysical con-
ditions of the outside world.
A confirmation of this apparently indestructible harmony
with the outer world, and even with outer space, arose from
one summer's observation when the workers were at loss to
account for the very eccentric results obtained from a certain
set of experiments. When the meteorologic data corresponding
to that particular period were consulted, it was discovered that
the erratic behavior coincided exactly with a sudden and large
outburst of sunspots! This correlation strengthened their sus-
picion that their organisms were somehow getting some type of
" information " from the outside which was not being observed
in the laboratory.
Dr. Brown and his associates have published extensively the
results of their work, and it is very interesting to note the
evolution of the hypotheses involved as the work progressed
for a number of years. In particular one is struck by the great
similarity between the conclusions and e^lanations arrived at
by Dr. Brown from controlled observations, and the Aris-
totelian doctrine concerning the influence of the " heavenly
368 SISTER MARGARET ANN
bodies." The most recent and perhaps the most comprehensive
review of this work was published by Dr. Brown in a recent
issue of Science. ^
Living organisms, Dr. Brown points out, inhabit a world of
rhythms.^ The whole physical world, from that of the orbiting
electrons in the atom to that of our planetary system revolving
about the sun, shows regular cycles, or periodic changes. There
are solar, lunar, tidal, monthly and annual cycles, which greatly
affect the animal and plants; but in spite of the ever-changing
environment, the organisms maintain a very constant homeo-
stasis.^ To maintain this marvelous constancy, the organisms
themselves have " built-in " rhythms that respond to the
periodic changes in their physical surroundings. There exists
an abundant literature describing observed rhythmicities of
various sorts of animals. These rhythmicities appear to be
inherent, for they persist not only when the animals are in
their own habitats, but even when they are removed from the
place where the particular periodicity seemed to constitute an
advantage for individual survival and that of the species.*
Perhaps one of the most arresting examples of rhythms is
^ Frank A. Brown, Jr., " Living Clocks," Science, CXX (1959) , 1535-1544.
^ Frank A. Brown, Jr., " The Rhythmic Nature of Animals and Plants," Cycles,
XI (1960) , 81-92.
^ Walter B. Cannon, The Wisdom of the Body (New York: W. W. Norton, 1932) ,
pp. 20-21; Frank A. Brown, Jr., " The Rhythmic Nature of Life," in Recent
Advances in Invertebrate Physiology: A Symposium (Eugene, Oregon: University
of Oregon, 1957) , edited by Bradely T. Scheer.
* Frank A. Brown, Jr., J. Shriner and C. L. Ralph, " Solar and Lunar Rhythmicity
in the Rat in ' Constant Conditions ' and the Mechanisms of Physiological Time
Measurement," Am. Jour. Physiol., CLXXXIV (1956) , 491-496; Frank A. Brown,
Jr., M. F. Bennett and H. M. Webb, " Monthly Cycles in an Organism in Constant
Conditions during 1956 and 1957," Proc. Nat. Acad. Sci., XLIV (1958), 290-296;
Frank A. Brown, Jr., R. A. Freeland and C. L. Ralph, " Persistent Rhythms in O2
Consumption in Potatoes, Carrots and the Seaweed, Fucus," Plant Physiol., XXX
(1955), 280-296; Frank A. Brown, Jr., M. F. Bennett, H. M. Webb and C. L. Ralph,
" Persistent Daily, Monthly and 27-day Cycles of Activity in the Oyster and
Quahog," Jour. Exp. Zool., CXXXI (1956) , 235-262; Muriel I. Sandeen, Grover C.
Stephens and Frank A. Brown, Jr., " Persistent Daily and Tidal Rhythms of Oxygen
Consumption in Two Species of Marine Snails," Physiol. Zool., XXVII (1954), 350-
356.
THE RHYTHMIC UNIVERSE 369
furnished by studies made on the color change in the skin of
the fiddler crab, Uca pugnax.^ Near dawn on the beaches, the
skin of this crab is observed to begin to darken, becoming
darkest at noon, while near sunset it begins to blanch, becoming
lightest at midnight. In its natural habitat the fiddler crab
begins feeding at dawn, and it is believed that the darkening
of the skin protects it from the radiant energy of the sun and
makes it less conspicuous to its predators. When collected and
taken to a photographic darkroom where light, temperature
and other environmental factors are maintained constant, these
crabs continue to change color as if they were still on their
native beaches, although this color change has no longer any
survival value. In the course of studying these changes, the
observers detected not only a diurnal color change produced by
a diurnal rhythm of melanin dispersion (causing darkening) ,
but also a supplemental tidal color change accompanying a tidal
rhythm of dispersion. This latter tidal rhythm of darkening
and blanching was closely related to the feeding periodicity
and was in phase with the times of high and low tide of the
crab's natural habitat. So true was this, that crabs collected
from beaches that had tide times different from those of the
location of the laboratory where they were observed, main-
tained their rhythm of color dispersion in step with their former
home.
Although these diurnal and tidal rhythms held constant in
the laboratory, they could, nevertheless, be " re-set " out of
phase with the external solar and tidal times by exposing the
animals to very low temperatures or to continuous illumination
over a period of several days. The crabs would then keep the
regular twenty-four hour cycle and the twelve and one-quarter
hour cycle, but with a six-hour lag. Thus, instead of beginning
to darken at six o'clock in the morning, the crabs would begin
to darken at noon, blanching not at six o'clock in the evening,
^ Frank A. Brown, Jr., Milton Fingerman, Muriel I. Sandeen and H. M. Webb,
" Persistent Dirunal and Tidal Rhythms of Color Change in the Fiddler Crab, Uca
pugnax," Jour. Exp. ZooL, CXXIII (1953) , 29-60.
370 SISTER MARGARET ANN
but at midnight. This ability to be " re-set " constitutes an
advantageous adaptive characteristic for the species, making it
possible for the beginning time of the cycle to be varied in
harmony with changing physical conditions depending, for
example, on location.
Besides rhythms of pigment change, still others were observed
correlated to the feeding habits of the fiddler crab. Among
these were the change in rate of oxygen consumption and in
running activities. With respect to the first, crabs and other
organisms kept in sealed respirometers showed a daily varia-
tion in oxygen consumption which coincided with the crab's
natural feeding times. With respect to the second, wires
attached to the legs of crabs contained in vessels of seawater
and connected to mechanical recording devices registered a
daily fluctuation in activity which coincided with the diurnal
and tidal running times of the free fiddler crabs on their native
beaches.
Rhythms were likewise observed in such diverse organisms
of the plant kingdom as potatoes, carrots and the seaweed,
Fucus. Here, too, even when the humidity and barometric
pressure were considered to be successfully maintained at a
constant level by the experimenters, there continued to be
observed a regular pattern of increase and diminution in the
rate of oxygen consumption for a number of organisms. These
observations, more than any others, led to the formulation of
hypotheses indicating that some kind of " information," some
kind of stimulus, undetected by the observers, was getting
through to the isolated organisms. The possible roles of ioni-
zation of air and of various components of cosmic radiation as
transmitters of this " information " are now under investigation.
Recent work appears to offer something in the nature of sub-
stantiation of these explanations.
This shift of attention to outside " information," outside
stimuli, marks an interesting new departure. In contrast to the
tendency to consider each organism as an isolated entity, it
suggests that outside stimuli, emanating (in the case of cosmic
THE RHYTHMIC UNIVERSE 371
radiation) even from outer space, may possibly have a deter-
mining role in the rhythms of terrestrial organisms. The
mechanism, or mode according to which these various rhythms
function has been studied by a number of biologists and bio-
chemists. Their results indicate that such rhythms as color
change are due to the action of hormones on the chromatophores
(pigment organs) in the skins of the crabs and other animals
studied.** There is evidence in some cases to show that the hor-
mones themselves are produced consequent to stimuli deriving
from the central nervous system which has first been stimulated
by light from without.' When the pigment, under the action
of the hormones, is dispersed in the chromotophores, the skin
has a dark color, depending on the color of the pigment; when
it is undispersed and concentrated, the skin is paler. In addi-
tion, a kind of mid-w^ay system, the neuroendocrine system,
has been found to function in many activities which are
rhythmic.^
The tendency to look for the basic answers as emanating
from physico-chemical forces internal to the organism leads
the biochemist and the dissecting endocrinologist closer and
closer to the test tube and, it would seem, further and further
from the actual organism as an entity. In keeping with this
investigative approach, the persistent rhythms detected in
organisms were first thought of as produced by purely internal
processes, by " endogenous clocks." The organisms were pos-
tulated as possessing inherited mechanisms for the rhythmic
behavior observed, these " clocks " being considered as running
on their own frequencies, unaffected by outside environment.
* Muriel I. Sandeen, " Chromatophorotropins in the Central Nervous System of
Uca pugilator, with Special Reference to their Origin and Action," Physiol. ZooL,
XXIII (1950) , 337-352.
'' Frank A. Brown, Jr., H. Marguerite Webb and Muriel I. Sandeen, " Differential
Production of Two Retinal Pigment Hormones in Palaemonetes by Light Flashes,"
Jour. Cell and Comp. Physiol., XLI (1953) , 123-144.
® Francis G. W. Knowles, " The Control of Pigmentary Effectors," in Comparative
Endocrinology (New York: Wiley & Sons, 1959) , ed. by Aubrey Garbman, pp. 223-
232; Berta Scherrer, " The Role of Neurosecretion in Neuroendocrine Integration,"
ibid., pp. 134-140.
372 SISTER MARGARET ANN
It would now seem, however, that while it is true that
organisms inherit regulatory apparatus, or " feed-back mech-
anisms " which affect the observed rhythmicity, nevertheless
these potential mechanisms require first of all to be " set off "
by some external environmental factor which is functionally
in the normal environment of the animal or plant. This appears
in Pfeffer's studies of the so-called " sleep movements " of a
certain species of bean seedlings. He found that if the seeds
were germinated in the dark, and if the seedlings were kept
in the dark, they did not show the " sleep movements." In
the natural habitat these " sleep movements " consist in the
drooping of the leaves during the night. Pfeffer could, by
exposing his " sleepless " plants to a brief period of illumina-
tion, cause them to assume the same " sleep movements " as
the plants in nature. Even when returned to continuing dark-
ness, the plants now persisted in a daily " sleep " rhythm, which
consisted of a drooping of the leaves during a part of the
twenty-four hour cycle. ^
Dr. William Brett has demonstrated instances similar to that
of the light-triggered " sleep movements " of the bean seedlings
in the case of the emergence of flies from their pupal cases.
If kept through their developmental period in total darkness,
the flies, whose normal emergence during the twenty-four hour
cycle is at daybreak, emerge at any and all hours of the day.
But when such dark-adapted larvae were illuminated at a given
time with a single flash of light for a period as brief as one
minute, the flies then emerged for days after from their pupal
cases at exactly that same time in the twenty-four hour cycle.
This light-flash was evidently a daybreak-substitute which
triggered off the rhythmic emergence of the flies at the twenty-
four hour intervals.^"
As long as purely " endogenous " clocks, located at a nervous
* W. Pfeffer, Abhandl. sacks. Akad. Wiss. Leipzig., Math.-Phys. Kl., XXX (1907),
259, and XXXIV (1915) , 3. Quoted by F. A. Brown, Jr., Sdence, CXXX, No. 3388
(1959), 1535.
^^ Frank A. Brown, Jr., " The Rhythmic Nature of Animals and Plants," Cycles,
XI (1960) , 87.
THE RHYTHMIC UNIVERSE 373
and endocrine center, are postulated, with their mechanism
to be explained purely by physico-chemical means on the
internal molecular level, the horizon for investigation holds no
great promise. With the introduction of hitherto disregarded
or unknown external geophysical forces as possible motivators
in the periodic physiological processes of animals and plants,
however, a whole new perspective of research is opened up.
This new dimension of inquiry and its implications are thus
presented by Dr. Brown:
The thesis supported by this article, namely, that during the timing
of cycle-lengths of the rhythms in animals and plants in so-called
" constant conditions " the organisms are still continuously receiving
from the external environment information about the natural geo-
physical cycles, removes some of the romantic glamor inherent in
the alternative view that all living things must possess within them-
selves uncannily accurate clocks capable of measuring, indepen-
dently, periods ranging in length from the day to the year. On the
other hand, its implications are tremendous with respect to the
potentialities involved, through the demonstration that living things
are sensitively responding to additional kinds of stimuli at energy
levels so low that we have hitherto considered the living organisms
completely oblivious to them. These latter potentialities may soon
loom importantly in many areas of biology and medicine, especially
in such problems as animal navigation and behavior.
The demonstration that the physical environment of living things
is organized temporally in terms of still unknown subtle and highly
pervasive forces which the living organisms can resolve encourages
one to speculate that there may be some comparable subtle and
pervasive spatial organization of the environment which is con-
tributing at least in a small way towards accounting for geophysical
distribution or periodic migrations of organisms.^^
Dr. Brown was led to his conclusion concerning the con-
tinuing reception by organisms of unobserved or unknown
" information " from the external environment by the failure
of his findings to support currently accepted " laws " in physi-
ology which did not take such a factor into account. The first
such finding was the discovery that many of the so-called
" Ibid., p. 92.
374 SISTER MARGARET ANN
" persistent " rhythms in animals and plants were independent
of temperature over wide ranges/' If the rhythms in question
were purely chemical reactions, as many physiological processes
are, then there should have been proportionate increases and
decreases in the rates, for example, of color change, oxygen
consumption, and activity in the fiddler crab consequent upon
a raising or lowering of the temperature by ten degrees centi-
grade. Yet this did not prove to be the case. The rhythms
continued unaltered over several successive ten degree increases
in temperature. In addition to this, still another finding con-
tradicted the concept of purely chemical reactions as the sole
explanation of observed periodicities, namely, the fact that
these rhythms appeared to be immune to the action of drugs
and poisons knowTi to interfere with many different physi-
ological reactions, especially those involving enzyme activity.
The mechanisms responsible for the rhythms, it would seem,
must be regarded as something decidedly more than purely
chemical reactions.
A second unassimilable finding seemed to contradict the
assumption of genuinely " controlled " conditions. Many inves-
tigators w^ere led to postulate inherent, independent " clocks "
in organisms because the rhythms continued in their periodicity
under what were considered to be constantly controlled con-
ditions of temperature, light, atmospheric pressure and other
environmental factors. They accepted this explanation in spite
of the fact that there were experimenters through the years
who reported data that contradicted the idea of inherent, inde-
pendent " clocks." Examples of such data, quoted by Dr.
Brown, are the work of Stoppel in a basement in Iceland,
Cremer in a deep salt mine in Germany and the two Hempels
in Lapland. These experimenters showed that under very
constant conditions of this kind the regular observed rhythms
were in fact interfered with during the time of the mid-night
^" Frank A. Brown, Jr., H. Marguerite Webb, Miriam F. Bennett and Muriel I.
Sandeen, " Temperature-Independence of the Frequency of the Endogenous Tidal
Rhythm of Vca" Physiol. ZooL, XXVII (1954), 345-9.
THE RHYTHMIC UNIVERSE 375
sun/^ The investigators who discovered these very interesting
exceptions claimed or implied that the rhythms in the bean
seedlings or insects which they used, depended upon rhythmic
changes in the environment which, in some manner, still per-
vade all ordinary so-called laboratory contant conditions.
Dr. Brown's own observations of an interference in the
rhythms of oxygen consumption by organisms which correlated
with changes in outside barometric pressure constituted for
him the recognition that not only geophysical, but even cosmic
forces have a governing external influence on the rhythms of
terrestrial organisms. He states that it was the rhythm in
oxygen consumption of organisms matching changes in baro-
metric pressure which led him to consider cosmic radiation as
a possible factor in the periodicities. Evidence has now been
obtained to show a definite relationship between the metabolism
cycles of several organisms and certain fluctuations in cosmic
radiation.^* Dr. Brown also showed that fiddler crabs exhibit
a measurable response in the state of their pigmentary systems
to alterations in the intensity of cosmic ray showers by shield-
ing the animals with varying thicknesses of lead sheets.^^
Other possible factors suggested are the differences of potential
between the earth and the ionosphere and the various magnetic
fields:
There is good likelihood, judging from the known simultaneous
influence of such forces as light, temperature and tactile stimuli,
that if these organisms possess the capacity to respond to one type
of these relatively low-energy, or diffuse, types of environmental
stimuli such as are implied by these results [correlation between
oxygen consumption in organisms and the barometric pressure],
^^ Frank A. Brown, Jr., " The Rhythmic Nature of Animals and Plants," Cycles,
XI (1960) . 87; and "An Exogenous Reference-Clock for Persistent Temperature-
Independent, Labile, Biological Rhythms." Biol. Bull., CXV (1958), 81-100.
^* Frank A. Brown, Jr., H. M. Webb and M. F. Bennett, " Comparisons of Some
Fluctuations in Cosmic Radiation and in Organismic Activity During 1954-1955 and
1956," Am. Jour. Physiol., CXCV (1958), 237-243.
" Frank A. Brown, Jr., H. M. Webb, M. F. Bennett and M. I. Sandeen, " Evi-
dence for an Exogenous Contribution to Persistent Diurnal and Lunar Rhythmicity
under So-called Constant Conditions," Biol. Bull., CIX (1955), 238-254
376 SISTER MARGARET ANN
they also possess the capacity to respond to a complex of them.
Supporting such a multiple-factor view is the fact that the forms
of the rhythms and their monthly variations appear to correlate
to some extent with the barometric pressure, but at the same time
have large significant variation at some times of the day and month
that show little indication of any correlation with pressure.^®
It was, in effect, the irregular, unexplainable deviations of the
rhythms that led the investigators, not to discard their data
as being impossible, but to look for a more primary, or ultimate
cause of the effects observed. By checking the available meteor-
ological data, they concluded that living organisms are very
sensitive to influences from outer space in the form of compo-
nents of cosmic radiation. These conclusions led the scientists
to more exciting and fruitful discoveries than had resulted
previously from more than twenty years of research.
Dr. Brown's researches point, then, to outside, even extra-
galactic, influences in the behavior of living organisms, as noted,
for example, in a periodicity in terrestrial organisms related
to the occurrence of sun spots, with a variation in color change
which is affected by the intensity of cosmic radiation.
One might ask what is so extraordinary about the perception
that terrestrial organisms are influenced in their behavior by a
heavenly body such as the sun, or even by cosmic rays ema-
nating from some unknown source .^^ The effect of the sun upon
the growth and life cycle of living things is common knowledge.
More than merely confirming the fact of extra-terrestrial influ-
ence. Dr. Brown's discoveries clearly demonstrate an order, and
— in view of the factors studied — an order on a cosmic scale.
Order is implicit in rhythm, for rhythm presupposes a com-
bination of variation with constancy. In other words, for
events to re-occur with a certain regular periodicity, there must
be a certain fixed pattern beyond the reach of chance which is
the " clock " for these events; this supplies the " programming."
The regular periodicity observed by Dr. Brown and his
associates, a periodicity which, with continuing investigation,
" Ibid., p. 253.
THE RHYTHMIC UNIVERSE 377
appears to be related to causal factors on a more and more cos-
mic scale, certainly suggests the presence of a real entity or enti-
ties moving in a constant manner in such a way as to cause
periodic variation. The hypothesis of ultimate regular motions
in the universe causing a regular periodicity is, as is known,
that of Aristotle and St. Thomas Aquinas. This hypothesis
attempted to explain the simultaneous effect of constancy and
periodicity as derived from the perpetual, regular, apparent
motion of the heavenly bodies such as the fixed stars and the
planets; the periodicity in terrestrial organic life was thought
to be caused by the apparent northerly and southerly variations
of the sun and the planets in the zodiacal circle. It should be
noted that this hypothesis, already in St, Thomas' day, had
extended beyond the limit of the fixed stars in seeking to locate
the ultimate corporeal source of cosmic motion, for the detec-
tion of the precession of the equinoxes required the positing
of a further motion beyond that of the fixed stars.
17
^'^ " From the perpetuity of generation [Aristotle] concludes to the perpetuity of
celestial motion. . . . He concludes that if something remains the same throughout
the course of generation, it is necessary for something to remain numerically always
the same, acting in the same way, in order to cause perpetuity. But nothing in the
realm of generation and corruption could be a cause of the perpetuity which is found
in generation and corruption, since none of these things exist always, nor could all
of them taken together be such a cause, since they do not all exist at one time,
as is shown in Physics VIII. It remains, therefore, that there must be some
perpetual agent which acts continuously in a uniform way to bring about perpetuity.
And this is the ' first heaven ' which moves and resolves all things by a diurnal
motion.
" But since that which continuously acts m the same way solely causes an effect
which remains constant, while in those things which are generated and corrupted
there appear effects which do not always remain constant since at one time they are
generated and at another time corrupted, it is therefore necessary, if there is to be
generation and corruption in the lower [i. e. terrestrial] beings, to posit some agent
which varies in its activity. And this agent he states to be the body which moves
in reference to the oblique circle called the Zodiac.
" Since this circle declines in both directions from the equinoxial circle, it is
necessary that the body moving in a circle through the Zodiac be sometimes nearer
and sometimes farther away, and for this reason it causes contrary effects by its
nearness and farness. We indeed perceive that those things which are generated as
the sun approaches are corrupted when the sun recedes, for example, the various
herbages which come forth in the spring and dry up in the fall. The sun and the
378 SISTER MARGARET ANN
Needless to say, in considering the suppositions of Aristotle
as expounded by St. Thomas, it is not a question of urging
their literal acceptance, since even their authors did not con-
sider them to be demonstrated.^* Rather it is a matter of
considering them from the standpoint of their general intellec-
tual approach, an approach which accords well, for example,
with findings indicative of universal cosmic rhythms making
themselves felt in the periodicity of terrestrial organisms, since
it is an approach sensitive to the over-all rhythmicity of the
universe felt even in the smallest details of earthly life. This
other planets move indeed through the zodiacal circle, but the fixed stars are said
to move around the zodiacal poles, and not around the equinoxial poles, as Ptolemy
shows. From the motion of these there is caused the generation and corruption of
all things generated and corrupted, but this is more evident in the case of the
motion of the sun." St. Thomas, In XII Metaph., lect. 6, nn. 2510-11.
In another place St. Thomas explains: " One must consider that in the time of
Aristotle there had not been detected the motion of the fixed stars, which Ptolemy
sets down as moving from west to east around the poles of the Zodiac at the rate
of one degree every hundred years, in such a way that a full revolution of the
Zodiac is completed in thirty-six thousand years." (In II De caelo et mundo,
lect. 17, n. 7) This is the precession of the equinoxes which today is computed as
twenty-six thousand years. From the point of view of apparent motion, the fixed
stars in the various constellations of the Zodiac are in the course of a precession
from west to east in such a way that the vernal equinox, which several thousand
years ago took place when the sun was in Aries, now takes place, due to this
apparent motion of the signs from west to east, in the previous sign, that of Pisces.
At the present computation the rate of precession would be about 1.4° per hundred
years. St. Thomas then concludes: " Therefore the ancients laid down the sphere
of the fixed stars to be the first moving body, and to have only one motion, which
is the diurnal motion. But on the supposition that the fixed stars move, it is
necessary for this sphere to move with two motions, namely its own proper motion,
which is that of the fixed stars, and the diurnal motion, which is that of the
supreme sphere which is without stars." (Ibid.) I wish to express my gratitude to
Father Pierre Conway, O. P. for pointing out and translating these and subsequent
passages from St. Thomas.
^® " These matters into which we inquire are difficult since we are able to perceive
little from their causes and the properties of these bodies are more remote from our
knowledge than the bodies themselves are distant from us in a purely spatial way."
(Ibid., n. 8) Speaking of the number of planetary motions, St. Thomas says, " We
shall state what the mathematicians have to say about this. . . . Whatever remains
unstated, however, shall have to be investigated by ourselves or taken on the
authority of those who investigate such things or developed later from the facts
now stated by those who treat these matters." (In XII Metaph., lect. 9, n. 2566)
THE RHYTHMIC UNIVERSE 379
point of view is aptly summarized in the celebrated statement
of Aristotle, " Man is begotten by man and by the sun as well "
{Physics, II, 194 b 10) ."
There is a further point of contact in which the observed
results of natural rhythms and the conclusions of the 'phi-
losophia perennis would seem to be in accord: the recognition
of a basic order in the universe. One is not compelled, what-
ever the urgent extrapolations of the materialist, to accept the
order observable in a single organism as the result of random
combinations over a period of billions of years. There is even
less cogency in the assertion of random events as the cause of
order when that order involves not the internal mechanism of
a single organisms, but a whole cosmic network in which the
individual is seen as a single note pulsating in rhythm with a
very real " harmony of the spheres." One might accept the
possibility that a simple melody could result from the random
spattering of ink on lined paper. Equivalently, by the assertion
of randomness, one is asked to accept a completely orchestrated
score of the Jupiter as the result of the same process.-"
The detection and measurement by the experimenters cited
of what might be called " cosmic rhythms " is an affirmation
^' " It is necessary according to the Philosopher to lay down some active mobile
principle which by its presence and absence would cause variability as to generation
and corruption in the lower bodies — and such a principle is supplied by the heavenly
bodies. And therefore whatever, in these lower bodies, generates and moves towards
specific form acts as an instrument of the heavenly bodies, as in the statement
that man is generated by man and by the sun as well." Sum. TheoL, I, q. 115, a. 3
ad 2.
^** In the dry terms of formal logic, the argument for the chance origin of life from
the inorganic by random events involves two cases of petitio principii and one of
the fallacy of consequence. The question is begged first in the assumption that life
could come from non-life, prescinding from time and any instrumentality. This
remains to be proved experimentally. It is begged again in the assumption that this
origin is from chance, and from chance alone. But, by definition, a chance event
need never happen.
The fallacy of consequence (If p, then q; but q, therefore p) is involved in the
argument: If a random event were possible and did take place, then we would have
living organisms today; but we have living organisms today: therefore. . . . Such
an inference would be vaild only if it were the only possible inference, but this is
clearly not the case.
380 SISTER MARGARET ANN
of order, for rhythm is a species of order. Taking order as
" the sequence of one thing upon another according to some
principle," the solar, lunar, tidal (and possibly extra-galatic)
rhythms of organisms are instances of order. Events in these
organisms are observed to repeat themselves at certain inter-
vals: these rhythmic intervals express the principle involved.
What is the source of this order? There is no theoretical
reason, nor any experimental data, to hint that the cosmic
order implied by the rhythms must be the result of random
events. Rather there is implied what sound science implies in
all its searchings: the presence of an intelligent and intelligible
pattern in the uni verse. ^^
The discovery of order as in the rhythmicity of fiddler crabs
and other organisms, far from granting any substantiation to
the theory of random beginnings, militates strongly against it.
The tendency of these findings is to suggest, not that the
observed order is the result of chance, but rather that what
was thought to be chance is seen to be more likely an aspect
of order. Thus the interruption of periodicity in fiddler crabs,
at first considered a random event, later seemed more likely
to be, when a simultaneous variation of sunspots was learned
of, an instance of the influence of a certain rhythmicity hitherto
not considered by the researchers. This is scarcely astonishing,
for events which may appear to be random to one considering
only particular causes in a limited range, may be seen to be
co-ordinated when one becomes conscious of a broader picture.""
"^ Writers as diverse as Einstein and Aquinas are agreed on this. The familiar
" Der Herr Gott ist raffiniert, aber boshaft ist er nicht " can be compared with St.
Thomas' commentary on the Aristotelian dictum, "Art imitates nature." (Phys., II,
194a20) " The reason why art imitates nature" say St. Thomas, " is that the prin-
ciple in the activity of art is knowledge. But all our knowledge is received through
the senses from sensible and natural things; whence we operate in artifacts according
to the likeness of natural things. But the reason why natural things are imitable by
art is that the whole of nature is ordered by some intellective principle to its end,
in such a way that the work of nature is perceived to be the work of an intelligence,
as it proceeds through determinate means to certain ends, which process art indeed
imitates in its operation." In II Phys., lect. 4, n. 6.
*" " It is plain that effects as related to some lower cause appear to have no order
to each other, but to coincide accidentally, which, if they are referred to a higher
THE RHYTHMIC UNIVERSE 381
The experimental determination of rhythmicity indicates a
more cosmic and universal, rather than a particular base. Such
indications point away from theories of a random origin of
organized life, and towards the conviction of a cosmic order
in which random events have their part simply as normal
deviations from the rule in a lesser number of cases. Order is
not known to be the "per se product of chance, and need never
occur from it. Order does occur from intelligence, as the
products of human intelligence show. Sound science may well
suppose a supreme intelligence behind the events of nature.
Such an intelligence can be demonstrated (though not experi-
mentally) to be necessarily immaterial, infinite and personal.
But, the cautious inquirer may ask, could not one suppose
even the final cosmic, supreme order to be possibly the result
of chance.? No, for chance cannot be conceived as anything
other than an exception to order. The supposed supreme
chance configuration presupposes a more extensive order of
which it is an exception of lesser degree. Whoever speaks of
chance implies, whether he acknowledges it or not, an even
more primordial " order."
The fascinating researches and challenging results of talented
comiron cause, are found to be ordered to each other, and not conjoined acci-
dentally, but simultaneously produced by one fer se cause. If the flowering of this
herb or that, for example, is referred to a particular force which is in this plant or
the other, there appears to be no order of one to the other; rather it appears to be
accidental that when this plant blooms, the other blooms also. And this is because
the cause of the power of this particular plant extends to the flowering of itself,
and not to that of another; whence it is indeed the cause that this plant should
bloom, but not that it should bloom simultaneously with the other. But if reference
is had to the power of the heavenly body, which is a common cause, the event is
found to be not accidental, namely that when this flower blooms, the other should
bloom also, but to be ordered by some first cause ordaining this, which simul-
taneously moves both herbs to florition." St. Thomas, In VI Metaph., led. 3,
nn. 1205-6.
The consideration of angelic knowledge throws light on this conclusion: " The
angels know all natural causes. WTience certain things which appear contmgent and
to be accidental when some of their causes have been considered ai-e recognized to
be necessary by the angels, since they know all the causes involved." St. Thomas,
De verit., q. 8, a. 12.
382 SISTER MARGARET ANN
scientists such as Dr. Brown confirm one's opinion of the pro-
found insights of the perennial philosophy of nature. One
becomes convinced that a thorough familiarity with the Aris-
totelian-Thomistic synthesis does not remove one from the
scientific world of today. It serves rather to put one in tune
with its most fruitful explorations, as indicated by the direction
of the findings of Dr. Brown and his colleagues. Far from
erecting mental blocks, a knowledge of Aristotle and St.
Thomas can serve only to provide the Catholic scientist with
thrilling and stimulating perspectives which, while awakening
a researcher's curiosity, point and beckon towards the First
Cause.
Sister Margaret Ann, 0. P.
College of St. Mary of the Springs,
Columbus, Ohio.
MIND, BRAIN AND BIOCHEMISTRY
c*o
MAN lives in a fascinating, kaleidoscopic world, and the
microcosm that is man is itself a wonderful complex
of the changing and the abiding. There is constant
change at every level of his physical and psychological make-
up. Yet behind this ever-changing phenomenon there is a
permanent substratum, a human person who undergoes these
changes.
Careful studies have shown that there is a constant turnover
of much of the body's chemical components. On the neuro-
physiological level the pulsating brain has been called " an
enchanted loom where millions of flashing shuttles weave a
dissolving pattern, always a meaningful pattern, though never
an abiding one; a shifting harmony of sub-patterns." ^ On
the chemical level the unending array of mobile patterns is
well known to biochemists. On the level of man's conscious
life the constant flux is even more evident: sensory images,
ideas, desires and emotions tumble over one another in rapid
succession. The facts of change are so constant and obvious
as to lead many to doubt the reality of anything permanent.
Some scientists wonder whether there really is such a thing as
a -person, for they point out that even the so-called person
seems to undergo marked changes, sometimes to the point of
developing a psychosis. Schizophrenia, for example, suggests
a split of personality. The schizophrenic reveals himself as one
having a dual personality, at one time revealing the behavioral
pattern of one personality, and at other times manifesting an
entirely different personality. But, we may ask, is this a true
split of the person"^
^ C. S. Sherrington, Man on His Nature, 2nd ed. (Garden City: Doubleday, 1953) ,
p. 184.
383
384( ALBERT S. MORACZEWSKI
It is clear that the psychologist and the ontologist do not
mean the same thing when, they employ the words " person "
and " personality." The psychologist, on the one hand, looks
for thought, emotion and habit patterns which lead to a con-
sistent and predictable behavior. These for him constitute the
" psychological person." The ontologist, on the other hand,
perceives the ontological oneness, even the uniqueness, of an
existing reality which remains unchanged ontologically through-
out the constant physical and psychological variations. This
existential reality, the ontological person, under certain con-
ditions is capable of manifesting itself differently, not because
of any radical change in its being, but because of modifications
in its bodily or mental life. The " person " ontologically under-
stood is the subject in which the changes occur. It remains
identically itself throughout aberrations of mind and body.
The ontological person, therefore, is the fundamental reality
which originates with conception (or shortly thereafter) and
remains unchanged until death. Obviously the behavioral
changes associated with mental illness occur in the ontological
person, but they are changes oj the psychological person.
Hence, a schizophrenic is one being, one rational, existent being,
manifesting more than one emotional and behavioral pattern.
The ontological person is an autonomous totality composed
of numerous interdependent functional parts. All the parts live
by the same life, the unique life of the person, and yet each
part has its distinctive vital function. Certain functional parts
are so thoroughly dependent upon others that the distinctive-
ness of specific functions and parts is not infrequently called
into question.
One important problem much discussed today and in the
past concerns the relation of the mind to the brain. Is the
mind, as some insist, nothing more than the brain in its func-
tional capacity.f^ If so, is an injured brain the same as an
injured mind.f^ Or is the mind a reality distinct from the brain.?
If so, how do they interact in normal thought, and where is
the failure causing mental disease.? These and other related
MIND, BRAIN AND BIOCHEMISTRY 385
questions are acute issues today.- In particular, the question
of the relation of biochemistry to behavior has special relevance
to the basic issue. If the mind is a reality distinct from the
brain, how does a chemical compound interact with it? And
if mental illness is nothing but a malfunctioning of the brain
(whose function is ultimately dependent upon molecular ac-
tivity) , how can psychotherapy, that is, a non-chemical treat-
ment, be effective in reversing an abnormal brain biochemistry?
The Mind-Body Problem
Since man first began to philosophize, the precise relation
between his thinking mind and his tangible body has been
considered an important problem. Sage, savant and poet, have
offered explanations, sometimes fundamentally opposed, some-
times only differently expressed. Plato has left us the metaphor
of the soul as a charioteer to the body's chariot; Descartes'
dichotomy of matter and spirit leads to an angelism and a
division even wider than Plato's. The biologically based solu-
tion of the Aristotelian tradition has been poetically expressed
in Gerard Manley Hopkins' " man's spirit is flesh-bound when
found at best." The materialist solution of dialectical material-
ism eliminates the problem by calling mind a manifestation of
matter in motion. We will examine in a subsequent section
some of the contemporary data and hypotheses concerning
the relation of biochemical disturbances to abnormal mental
behavior. Reflection on the data to be presented may help to
shed some light on the important problem of the mind-body
relationship. Physiological principles can be introduced as
needed.
Descartes' attempt to establish a philosophy on his Cogito
ergo sum has made the mind-body problem an insoluble one.
^S. Kety, "A Biologist Examines the Mind and Behavior," Science, CXXXII
(1960) , 1861-70; H. W. Magoun, " Early Development of Ideas Relating the Mind
and the Brain," in CIBA Foundation Symposium, Neurological Basis of Behavior
(London: Churchill, 1958), pp. 4-27; W. G. Walter, "Adolf Meyer Research Lecture:
Where Vital Things Happen," American Journal of Psychiatry, CXVI (1960), 673-
694.
386 ALBERT S. MORACZEWSKI
By starting with a subjective foundation for his philosophy,
Rene Descartes was never able, nor was anyone else able, to
leave the subjective domain. The objective world of sense
was forever beyond the reach of mind, and mind beyond the
reach of sense. His conception of the human soul as something
so distinct and separate from the living body as to be indepen-
dent leaves the body and soul two complete entities. It is no
wonder that physiology and mechanistic psychology soon found
no place for the ghostly, angelic Cartesian ' soul.'
A certain parallelism between mental thoughts and physical
mechanics was taught by Descartes, and a limited influence
of the mind on body was allowed through the pineal gland.
Leibniz, however, could see no reason for this limited influence
of mind on matter, since the two entities were completely
diverse in nature. Consequently the only parallelism open to
Leibniz was a harmony between these two, pre-established by
God. This parallelism was put into a scientific context by the
psychologists Fechner and Wundt.
Among modern neurophysiologists, J. C. Eccles, a professed
Cartesian, has given much thought to the mind-brain problem.^
Eccles, following the lead of other investigators,* develops the
notion that brain and mind liaison takes place primarily in the
cerebral cortex. According to him this liaison is possible only
when there is a high level of activity in cerebral tissue. To
avoid possible misunderstanding Eccles distinguishes the action
of the mind, or will on the brain from the reverse action of
the brain on the mind (perception) . He conceives the mind
as acting on the brain by virtue of the latter's " critically poised
neurones " which act as hypersensitive detectors of " minute
spatio-temporal fields of influence " emanating from the will.
The brain-to-mind action is explained by assuming that the
spatio-temporal patterned activity of the cerebral cortex can
^ J. C. Eccles, The Neurcyphysiological Basis of Mind (Oxford: Clarendon, 1953) ,
pp. 261-86.
* E. D. Adrian, The Physical Background of Perception (Oxford: Clarendon,
1947); C. S. Sherrington, op. cit.
MIND, BRAIN AND BIOCHEMISTRY 387
act on the spatio-temporal patterning of the mind. There is,
so to speak, a two-way street: the cerebral detectors can also
act as transmitters so that the mind can both influence and
be influenced.
Eccles' philosophy of mind and brain has not been widely
accepted. In the first place, it is still a mechanical explanation.
The mind is assumed to operate on the brain in the same way
as the brain operates on the mind. In other words, his view
ascribes to the mind a mode of activity which is proper to
material things. Descartes at least admitted a real difference
between thought and mechanics. In the second place, even
as a physical type of ghost the * mind ' in Eccles' view is still
too remote from cerebral activities. There is only one life by
which the mind and brain function. The realistic explanation
must somehow account for the real unity of life as well as for
the apparent difference between thought and cerebral physi-
ology. Descartes' dichotomy between spirit and matter has at
least some grounds of intelligibility, but Eccles' dichotomy
between a materialistic mind and neurophysiological activity
is devoid of all intelligibility. Finally, an adequate resolution
of the mind-body problem must allow the mind to act according
to its non-material nature, explaining simultaneously the on-
tological unity of the person and the diversity of thought and
physiological changes.
To date the only adequate solution to the mind-body problem
is the one suggested by Aristotle and Galen, and developed
throughout the centuries even to our own day. The solution
can be called adequate because it does in fact explain the
ontological unity of the living being and at the same time
accounts for the immaterial nature of thought and the effect
of biochemical changes on the psychological person. The Aris-
totelian view, commonly called the hylomorphic theory, can
easily be misunderstood. If it is misunderstood, the hylo-
moi-phic theory offers no real solution at all; in fact, it might
even be an obstacle to a real solution.
First it is important to note that according to the Aristotelian
388 ALBERT S. MORACZEWSKI
view the soul and body are not two distinct entities, that is,
they are not two actual wholes. Two distinct entities could
never make up one ontological person. There would have to
be the Cartesian dichotomy of a navigator in a ship, a driver
in an auto, a prisoner in his cell. It was Descartes' failure to
appreciate the potential nature of the body with respect to the
living principle that led to the dichotomy. The converse is
likewise true: it was Descartes' failure to appreciate the acti-
vating nature of the soul that led him to conceive the soul as
an isolated reality. Although the words " soul " and " body "
suggest two distinct existents, they are not to be so understood,
if a solution to the problem is to be reached.
Reflection on this point can be developed in two ways. First,
the word " body " is really not the same when applied to a
living body and to a corpse. The living body not only functions
differently from a corpse, but it is different; it is living. One
might admit a remote similarity between a living body and its
corpse; it is indeed a commonly understood manner of speaking
to call both " bodies." But it would be absurd to identify the
living body with the mass of matter which remains after death.
It might be objected, however, that nothing is discoverable
in the living body which is not also in the inert mass of the
corpse. It is true that if a chemical analysis were made imme-
diately after death or with some means guaranteeing preserva-
tion from corruption, the same chemical compounds would be
found, with the possible exception of extremely labile com-
pounds such as adenosine triphosphate (ATP) or creatine phos-
phate. But a physical or chemical similarity is not the same
as biological similarity. Biologically a living organism func-
tions; a dead one does not. This should suggest that life cannot
be identified with chemical activity. Furthermore, even chemi-
cal similarity will gradually diminish as the analysis is made
further removed in time from the instant of death. This seems
to indicate clearly that the principle of life, whatever one calls
it, is responsible for the unity and identity of the living
organism.
MIND, BRAIN AND BIOCHEMISTRY 389
A second line of reflection leads to the relationship between
body and the principle of life. If organic activity is possible
only when life is present, then the principle of life is not separate
from a living organism. In fact, it is by reason of the life-
principle that the body is living and biologically organic. In
other words, the life-principle activates the matter in giving
it organic life and unity of being. In this context, the material
mass of the body and the chemical compounds are recipients
of activation; they are capacities, potentialities for actual life.
When Aristotle designated this ' matter ' as a passive capacity,
it was in relation to the activizing principle of ' form.' Just as
human life cannot be understood except in relation to an
organism, so an organic body cannot be understood without
reference to the life-principle, commonly called a soul. It would
be absurd to think that the soul is some kind of unknown
chemical substance. Rather the soul is that by which every
chemical compound in an organism is living. Hence it is futile
to search for a ' soul ' through chemical analysis.
Second, it is important to note that there are important
differences between a human soul and a purely animal soul,
even though both are life-principles informing a highly complex
organism. The principle of human life performs functions, such
as thinking, willing, idealizing and reflecting, which are not
limited to space-time patterns. This is not to say that thinking
and willing are activities performed outside of space and time,
but only that they are not limited as sensations and emotions
are. In the Aristotelian tradition this transcendence of thinking
and willing shows the spiritual nature of mind and will. The
non-limited behavior of mind and will is, of course, derived
from the same life-principle which animates the human body.
Consequently the single life-principle in man is the unique
source of both organic life in the body and of mental life trans-
cending the limitations of space-time patterns. There can be
no doubt that man's soul is an extraordinary type of reality:
it animates an organic body, yet its nature and functions are
not entirely limited to the biochemistry of the body.
390 ALBERT S. MORACZEWSKI
Now, how does this relate to the mind-body problem? Simply
that the human life-principle is the source of both cerebral
activity and mental activity, inasmuch as none of these activ-
ities is manifest in a corpse. Granting the essential difference
between cerebral activity and mental activity, it would be a
serious misconception to conceive their interaction after the
manner of two physical beings, e. g., as two chemical com-
pounds, or as an electromagnetic wave reacts with an appro-
priate detector. The reciprocal influence of mind and brain is
altogether unique and any attempt to understand its nature
must take cognizance of this fact.
Limiting these reflections further, we may ask, how then does
this bear on the problem of mental health and disease? There
is no doubt that the living body has an important role in these
matters, since injury to the physical organ, the brain, results
in some aberrations of mental and emotional activity of the
living person. Obviously the brain does not and cannot func-
tion in the absence of the life-principle. It is true that chemical
reactions, electrical currents and enzyme activity, precisely as
such are not living, for they can be produced outside a living
body. However, in a living body they are concurrent, con-
comitant with the activity of the life principle and are directed
to the functional integrity of the whole organism. The mind
in its operation needs the brain. Every thought not only has
some echo in the brain tissue, but in the present condition the
mind is dependent on the brain as on an instrument. Clearly
if something is awry in the physical apparatus, the instrument,
the mind is to that degree impeded in its normal function.
The brain is not simple in its structure or function. Although
the brain is spoken of as a single organ, and sometimes even
thought of as having a single function in much the same way
as the heart is said to pump blood, in actuality it is extremely
complex.^ This complexity is due not simply to the ten thou-
sand million or more neurons which are part of its composition,
^ J. Papez, " Neuroanatomy," in American Handbook of Psychiatry, ed. Silvano
Arieti (New York: Basic Books, 1959), pp. 1585-1619.
MIND, BRAIN AND BIOCHEMISTRY 391
but also to the nerve cells which happen to be arranged in
certain groups or patterns. Anatomically these patterns are
regions such as the cerebral cortices, the cerebellum and a
number of sub-cortical structures. Refined observation reveals
that the neurons are often grouped in smaller functional areas,
or units called " nuclei," Chemical studies of the brain reveal
regional differences both qualitative and quantitative that may
be reflective of functional heterogeneity.
Even if direct experimental evidence were not available, one
could conclude on other grounds that the brain displays some
localization of function. The functions of the brain are nu-
merous, as evidenced by the sensory functions of the mind;
and a multiplicity of simultaneous functions requires a mul-
tiplicity of parts. Increasing complexity of activity requires a
corresponding increase of material parts, though not necessarily
in a one-to-one relationship of part to function. Now, since
there is a multiplicity of organic parts, these parts must occupy
different places in the brain. In other words, there must be a
spatial organization of parts, not haphazardly disposed, but
according to the operational dependence obtaining among them.
It follows, then that a nmltiplicity of functions, requiring a
plurality of parts, will require a localization of these functions.
By this is meant that particular functions will be associated
with certain anatomical areas and perhaps even with bio-
chemical topography. Nevertheless, there is at times consider-
able overlapping.
Over the years, our knowledge of localization of functions
has become more precise.'' (Yet this is not to deny that in
certain activities the whole brain apparently is involved.) The
mass of material which has accumulated has been authorita-
tively and comprehensively reviewed in three volumes of a
recent publication.^ The various projection areas for motor or
* R. W. Gerard, " Neurophysiology, Brain and Behavior," in S. Arieti, op. cit.,
pp. 1620-38.
^ J. Field, Handbook of Physiology, Sect. I, Neurophysiology (Washington: Am.
Physiological Soc, 1959-60) .
392 ALBERT S. MORACZEWSKI
sensory activities have been known for some time. But the cor-
responding secondary areas are a more recent discovery. Much
of our earlier knowledge regarding localization of brain function
was derived from accidental injuries to the human brain.
Thus, for example, cerebral vascular accidents (" strokes ") may
lead to paralysis of limb or speech. Recent experimentation
with animals has sought to determine functional centers in
the brain by electrodes. These are permanently implanted in
specific areas of the brain, mild electrical stimulation is applied,
and the behavior pattern of the animal is observed.^ An alterna-
tive procedure is to allow the animal to determine whether or
not it is to be so electrically stimulated.® From such experi-
ments it has been concluded that certain areas are " rewarding
centers " since the animal would repeatedly stimulate itself in a
seeming orgy of " pleasure " until it became physically ex-
hausted several hours later. Similarly in the same general areas
but at different specific points there have been discovered
centers which mediated punishing effects since the animal would
refrain from restimulation.^° Other studies involving experi-
mental destruction of specific nuclei of the hypothalamus
revealed centers which were apparently concerned with hunger,
anger and the sex drive.^^ These and other data have now
established the existence of functional centers in the brain for
drives and emotions as well as for motor and sensory activities.
Electrical stimulation of exposed temporal lobes of conscious
human subjects during neurological procedures has contributed
* W. R. Hess, Diencephalon: Autonomic and Extrapyramidal Functions (New
York: Grune & Stratton, 1954). This work is a comprehensive EngHsh resume of
his original contributions which were reported in detail in Das Zwischenhim (Basel:
Schwabe, 1949) and in Die junktionelle organization des vegetativen N ervemysteme
(Basel: Schwabe, 1948).
* J. Olds and P. Milner, " Positive Reinforcement Produced by Electrical Stimu-
lation of Septal Area and Other Regions of the Rat Brain," Journal of Comparative
and Physiological Psychology, XLVII (1954), 419; J. Olds, " Self-Stimulation of the
Brain," Science, CXXVII (1958), 315-324.
^^ J. Olds, op. cit., pp. 317-324.
^^ W. R. Hess, Hypothalamus und Thalamus (Stuttgart: Thieme, 1956) ; W. R.
Ingram, "The Hypothalamus," Clinical Symposia, VHI (1956), 117-56.
MIND, BRAIN AND BIOCHEMISTRY 393
greatly to our knowledge of such centers/' We know that
definite areas of the temporal cortex when stimulated by a mild
electrical current has evoked in certain subjects a detailed
record of some past experience. Under certain conditions even
present experience can somehow be evaluated in the light of a
related past experience. It is possible, too, to evoke an emotion,
most frequently fear, but sometimes loneliness or sorrow. The
exact significance of these observations must still be determined
before further light can be shed on normal and abnormal
behavior.
The philosophical vocabulary of Aristotle and Aquinas has
no term corresponding to the modern expression " behavior."
Indeed even in current usage the precise meaning of the term
must often be determined from the context. In reference to
human behavior it is ordinarily conceived as including those
operations or actions of men which are considered to proceed
from the whole organism or individual. Thus the term is
applied not only to deliberate, consciously motivated actions,
which may be considered rational acts, but also to those which
follow on emotions, or are influenced by infra-conscious factors.
Normal behavior, then, is that which fits into a system of public
logic and is presumably in contact with the real world.
Abnormal behavior, in this context, in some ways offends public
logic, although the private logic of the individual may be
rigorously observed. As a consequence, the individual, at one
or more points, fails to contact the real world.
The term behavior in the present context, consequently, does
not directly connote such isolated phenomena of the autonomic
nervous system as heart rate, blood pressure, respiratory rate,
perspiration, and so forth. Nevertheless, behavior has physi-
ological and biochemical correlates of which any one parameter
may precede, accompany, or follow the individual's total res-
ponse to a particular environmental situation. A person's
^' W. Penfield, " The Interpretative Cortex," Science, CXXIX (1959) , 1719-25;
W. Penfield and L. Roberts, Speech and Brain Mechanisms (Princeton: Univ. Press,
1959).
394 ALBERT S. MORACZEWSKI
behavior may be influenced by his internal miHeu, but it is
not fully determined by it. For example, ingestion of various
drugs can accelerate or decrease reactions of the autonomic
nervous system even to the extent of inducing intense emo-
tional activity. The individual's behavior is clearly influenced,
but the ultimate determination of this behavior depends upon
intellect and will, unless the activity of these immaterial facul-
ties is completely inhibited. The dependence of rational ac-
tivities on the sensory functions imposes a kind of limitation
upon the intellect and will. If the operation of the pertinent
sensory faculties is impeded, then to some degree the function
of the intellect and will is also impaired. It is difficult to
determine the exact point at which the activities of intellect
and will may be completely inhibited.
The biochemical substrata of the emotions have, of late,
received considerable experimental attention." Although emo-
tion, like sensation, is itself non-chemical, there are numerous
physiological and biochemical changes associated with an emo-
tion, just as there are numerous changes associated with cog-
nitive sensation. The physiological component of vision, for
example, includes a variety of biochemical changes. Light
impinging on the rods and cones in the retina is absorbed by
the photosensitive pigment and produces a series of trans-
formations leading to nervous excitation." The nerve impulses
sent along the optic tract are dependent on biochemical activi-
ties for their propagation inasmuch as restoration of the ion
gradient, for example, requires energy. Additional biochemical
changes are further associated with whatever neuronal activity
takes place at the central receptors after receiving the nerve
impulses. Finally, in the formation of the integrated sensory
image associations are made with past experience, and all of
^^ H. F. Harlow and C. M. Wollsey, ed., Biological and Biochemical Basis of
Behavior (Madison: Univ. of Wis., 1958); L. J. West and M. Greenblatt, Explora-
tions in the Physiology of Emotions: Psychiatric Research Reports, 12 (January) ,
1960.
^* G. Wald, " The Photoreceptor Process in Vision," in Handbook of Physiology,
fd. cit.. Sect. I, vol. I, pp. 671-92.
MIND, BRAIN AND BIOCHEMISTRY 395
this involves considerable biochemical activity. At this point
the cogitative sense (or the intellect) may apprehend the object
or event perceived as good or harmful to the individual.
The judgment estimating the perception to be good or
harmful evokes an emotional response toward or away from
the object. Hand in hand with this affective, or emotional
response, there is a purely physiological and biochemical res-
ponse which may involve a host of chemical changes in the
body. Norepinephrine and epinephrine, for example, are lib-
erated from nerve endings and from adrenal medulla in various
proportions, depending on whether fear and anxiety, or anger
and daring are the primary emotional components. Concerning
human subjects, it has been reliably reported that normal
urinary excretion of norepinephrine with increased secretion of
epinephrine is associated with anxious and passive emotional
reactions. ^^ Active and aggressive emotional displays were
found to be associated with an increased secretion of norepine-
phrine. Other investigators have suggested that anxiety is
mediated by epinephrine, and anger by norepinephrine.^*^ Much
research still needs to be done before any definite associations
can be made with various emotions. One item, however, does
stand out: the biochemical changes can sometimes be induced
without thereby producing the true emotion. It has been
noticed, for example, that continuous infusion of epinephrine
can produce subjective feelings very similar to those found
during anxiety, and yet it would not be sufficient to produce
the emotional anxiety state .^' On the other hand, norepine-
phrine cannot produce comparable subjective experiences so
as to be related to the emotion of anger.^^ All of these inves-
^^ F. Elmadjian, " Excretion and Metabolism of Epinephrine and Norepinephrine
in Man," in F. A. Gibbs, ed., Molecules and Mental Health (Philadelphia: Lippin-
cott, 1959) , pp. 77-99.
^* D. H. Funkenstein, S. H. King and M. E. Drolette, Mastery of Stress (Cam-
bridge: Harvard, 1957), pp. 19-25.
" D. R. Hawkins, J. T. Monroe, M. G. Sandifer and C. R. Vernon, " Psychological
and Physiological Responses to the Continuous Epinephrine Infusion — An Approach
to the Study of the Affect, Anxiety," m West and Greenblatt, op. cit., pp. 40-52.
^» Ibid., p. 48.
390 ALBERT S. MORACZEWSKI
ligations confirm the traditional view of the emotions as im-
manent activities consequent upon an estimative judgment,
distinct from biochemical changes, yet associated with them.
Another factor which tends to modify the operation of the
mind and will is temperament. In the absence of any extensive
analysis of this area, it might be said that a considerable
component of temperament is physiological in origin." This
in turn may reflect a genetic influence on the biochemical
constitution of the individual. The four basic temperaments
furnished by classic authors classify men according to the kind
of response made to a given stimuli: the quick and slow, the
lasting and ephemeral. Each of the basic temperaments is char-
acterized by the possible pairs made up from one in each set.
This suggests an actual connection with the central nervous
system geared to respond in a certain manner to stimuli.
Differences in temperament are apparently associated with
differences in the responsiveness of the nervous system. What-
ever an individual's temperament might be, it must be taken
into consideration when evaluating normal and abnormal be-
havior. At present too little is known about the correlation of
temperament and abnormal behavior to draw any conclusions.
The endocrine pattern of an individual, however, is clearly
associated in some way with temperament. It is tempting to
suggest that the hormonal factors may actually constitute the
primary biochemical substratum of temperament. It is well
known now that the hypothalamus influences the activity of
the pituitary gland, probably through the release of neuro-
hormones.-" The pituitary gland, in turn, governs the activity
of several other glands, the adrenals, thyroid and gonads, whose
products influence the activity of other organs in the body and
the brain itself. While the sexual behavior of animals is pri-
marily determined by the hormones liberated by the gonads,
there are other influences in man which modify the basic
L. M. Bond, The Effect of Bodily Temperament on Psychical Characteristics
(River Forest: Aquinas Library, 1948) .
'° W. S. Fields, ed., Hypothalamic-Hypophysial Interrelationships (Springfield:
Thomas, 1956) .
MIND, BRAIN AND BIOCHEMISTRY 397
gonadal effect. Nevertheless the great influence of various
hormones on human behavior cannot be overlooked. Adminis-
tration of thyroxin to a hypothyroid individual can convert
a sluggish, perpetually tired individual to a bright, active
person. Out of such observations has grown the entirely new
field of psychoendocrinology.-^
Biochemical Disturbances and Abnormal Behavior
In classifying biochemical disturbances and abnormal be-
havior, it is best to begin with the class of congenital mental
deficiencies which result from what is frequently called a
" metabolic error." In its essential form this concept was first
proposed by Sir Archibald Garrod when he suggested that
certain diseases, e. g., alkaptonuria and albinism, could be
explained by the absence of certain specific enzymes.'" How-
ever, it has not yet been directly established that a particular
enzyme is absent. All that one can conclude is that the enzyme
in question is not junctioning properly. The failure of an
enzyme to function normally can be due to at least one of
several causes: (1) the enzyme may truly be absent, (2) it
may have a relatively slight structural abnormality, or (3)
though normal, it may not be able to function because of some
obstructive alteration in the cell or organism.-^ Furthermore,
in some instances the enzyme defect can be further traced to
the apparent absence or failure of a particular gene.^* The
resulting condition can involve a variety of physiological dis-
turbances, some of greater consequence than others. In some
cases the full development of the illness can be forestalled by
eliminating from the diet those substances which cannot be
metabolized because of the enzyme defect.
^^ M. Reiss, " Psychoendocrinology," in M. Reiss, ed., Psychoendocrinology (New
York: Grune & Stratton, 1958) , pp. 1-40.
^^ D. Y-y. Hsia, Inborn Errors of Metabolism (Chicago: Year Book, 1959), p. 105.
" Ibid.
-* R. W. Lippman, T. L. Perry and S. W. Wright, " The Biochemical Basis of
Mental Dysfunction. II: Mental Deficiency (Amentia)," Metabolism, VII (1958),
274. Cf. L. S. Penrose, The Biology of Mental Defect (New York: Grune and
Stratton, 1949).
398 ALBERT S. MORACZEWSKI
One type of congenital mental deficiency is exemplified by
the condition known as phenylpyruvic oligophrenia or as
phenylketonuria."^' The first term emphasizes the impairment
of the brain or mental function; the second refers to the rela-
tively high concentration of phenylpyruvic acid found in the
urine of the affected individual. Careful study of many cases
has revealed that it is an hereditary disorder of protein meta-
bolism mediated by a non-sex-linked recessive gene."'' As a
result of this genetic defect, there is a defect of the enzyme
system, phenylalanine hydroxylase. Without the proper func-
tioning of phenylalanine hydroxylase, there is an excessive
accumulation of phenylalanine in the blood and cerebrospinal
fluid. The precise manner in which the deleterious effect is
brought about is not known. Apparently it is the excess of
phenylalanine (or one of its products) which interferes with
the proper development of the central nervous system and
leads to a consequent mental retardation. If this condition is
discovered very early in the infant's life, the development of
mental deficiency can be largely prevented by administering
a diet free of the offending amino acid."^
Another type of mental deficiency resulting from a congenital
metabolic defect is cretinism,"^ It should be noted, however, that
a primary deficiency in the synthesis of the thyroid hormone is
not the only cause of cretinism. It can also arise from other
causes of thyroid hypofunction, e. g., from abnormal embryonic
development of the thyroid gland or from deficient dietary
^^ For a general review of this disease see the following: G. A. Jervis, " Phenyl-
pyruvic Oligophrenia," in Genetics and the Inheritance of Integrated Neurological
and Psychiatric Patterns (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1954), 259-282; W. E.
Knox and D. Y-y. Hsia, " Pathogenic Problems in Phenylketonuria," American
Journal of Medicine, XXII (1957) , 687 ff.
^^ Lippman, op. cit., p. 276; C. Mitoma, R. M. Auld and S. Uudenfriend, " The
Enzymatic Defect in Phenylpyruvic Oliogophrenia," Proceedings of the Society for
Experimental Biology and Medicine, XCIV (1957), 634.
^' M. D. Armstrong and F. H. Tyler, " Studies on Phenylketonuria. I: Restricted
Phenylalanine Intake in Phenylketonuria," Journal of Clinical Investigation, XXXIV
(1955), 565.
^* Cf. J. B. Stanbury and E. M. McGirr, " Sporadic or Non-Endemic Familial
Cretinism with Goiter," American Journal of Medicine, XXlI (1957), 712.
MIND, BRAIN AND BIOCHEMISTRY 399
iodine. A few weeks after birth the characteristic physical
stigmata appear, accompanied by signs of involvement of the
central nervous system."" Decreased acuity of the special senses
is evident; speech and socialization are retarded; muscular
coordination is impeded, and unless the condition is treated
the mental status of the individual is no more than that of an
idiot.
The second large class of biochemical disturbances giving rise
to abnormal behavior consists of acquired metabolic malfunc-
tions. This class can be broken down into diseases arising from
some nutritional deficiency and those arising from a toxic
substance either exogenous or presumptively endogenous. The
latter type, indeed, may be due in whole or part to a congenital
defect, but in the present state of our knowledge it remains an
open question. Diseases arising from nutritional deficiency are
of many types, but only one need be mentioned because of its
striking mental involvement: pellagra.
Pellagra has a variety of symptoms which, in the more
advanced stages, include a considerable mental dysfunction
characterized by a clouding of consciousness, hallucinations
and confusion, frequently terminating in a psychosis if adequate
treatment is not instituted.^" It has been determined that this
condition is due to the absence of one of the B vitamins, nico-
tinic acid (or its amide) , or its precursor, tryptophan. ^^. In
1937 it was discovered that pellagra could be relieved by
administering nicotinic acid (not to be confused with the
alkaloid nicotine) .^- The importance of this vitamin is that
it is an integi-al part of one of the coenzymes, known as diphos-
-® H. P. Rome and D. B. Robinson, " Psychiatric Conditions Associated with
Metabolic, Endocrine and Nutritional Disorders," in American Handbook of Psy-
chiatry, ed. cit., II, p. 1274.
'°R. L. Cecil and R. F. Loeb, ed., A Textbook of Medicine (Philadelphia:
Saunders, 1959) , p. 547.
'^ J. Gregory, " The Role of Nicotinic Acid (Niacin) in Mental Health and Dis-
ease," Journal of Mental Science, CI (1955), 85.
''''D. T. Smith, J. M. Ruffin and S. G. Smith, "Pellagra Successfully Treated
with Nicotinic Acid: A Case Report," Journal of the American Medical Association,
CIX (1937), 2054.
400 ALBERT S. MORACZEWSKI
phopyridine nucleotide (DPN) . It is essential to the meta-
bolism of carbohydrates, and its absence can seriously impair
energy production. Since almost the sole source of energy for
the brain is glucose, it is obvious that anything which interferes
with the proper metabolism of this carbohydrate will also
reduce brain function considerably.
The most interesting group of acquired biochemical dis-
turbances causing abnormal mental behavior is that arising
from the ingestion of a toxic substance. Obviously a great
variety of chemical substances can produce toxic symptoms
when taken in excessive quantities or by an individual with an
idiosyncrasy for a particular compound. Among the inorganic
substances must be listed lead,^^ manganese,^* mercury ^^ and
bromides.^*' Of these, the bromides are perhaps the best under-
stood.^^ For example, an excess of bromide ion in the blood,
generally resulting from an excessive use of bromide salts to
" quiet the nerves," replaces an equivalent amount of chloride
ion in the body fluids. When the concentration of bromide ion
reaches 150 mg. per cent,^^ toxic symptoms are likely to appear.
These symptoms may range from simple sluggishness and for-
ge tfulness to delirium and hallucinations. In certain predis-
posed cases, a pattern of transitory schizophrenia has been
known to appear.^^
Among organic compounds known to produce behavioral
abnormalities are such items as amphetamine, cortisone, ACTH
** W. T. Haverfield, P. C. Bucy and A. S. Elonen, " The Surgical Treatment of
Lead Encephalopathy," Journal of the American Medical Association, CXIV (1940) ,
2432; R. K. Byers and E. E. Lord, "Late Effects of Lead Poisoning on Mental
Development," American Journal of Diseases of Children, LXVI (1943), 329.
** G. C. Cotzias, " Manganese in Health and Disease," Physiological Reviews,
XXXVin (1958), 503-531.
*^ L. T. FairhaJl, " Inorganic Industrial Hazards," Physiological Reviews, XXV
(1945), 182.
^' M. Levin, " Bromide Psychoses: Four Varieties," American Journal of Psy-
chiatry, CIV (1948) , 798.
^■^ M. Levin, " Toxic Psychoses," in S. Arieti, op. cit., p. 1222 ff.
^^ Ibid., p. 1224.
^* M. Levin, " Transitory Schizophrenias Produced by Bromide Intoxication,"
American Journal of Psychiatry, CIII (1946), 229-237.
MIND, BRAIN AND BIOCHEMISTRY 401
and barbiturates." Ethyl alcohol, as everyone knows, affects
normal behavior in varying degrees. In extreme alcoholism, as
for example in delirium tremens and acute alcohol hallucinosis,
optic and auditory hallucinations, respectively, are common.*^
A very interesting group recently brought to the attention
of the psychiatric profession is known as psychomimetic drugs.
A descriptive definition of these drugs presented a few years
ago is still adequate: " Psychomimetic agents are substances
that produce changes in thought, perception, mood, and, some-
times, in posture, occurring alone or in concert, without causing
either major disturbances of the autonomic nervous system or
addictive craving, and, although with overdosage, disorienta-
tion, memory disturbance, stupor and even narcosis may occur,
these reactions are not characteristic." *' In some respects the
behavioral changes brought about by these drugs resemble the
mental and emotional symptoms associated with one or other
of the psychoses. Most of these drugs in current experimental
use are naturally occurring compounds, or compounds obtained
from them by slight chemical change. Among the better known
of these interesting drugs are lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD-
25) , mescaline (from the Peyote cactus) , and psilocybin (from
the mushroom, Psilocybe mexicana Heim) .
The first of these drugs, LSD-25, is apparently unique in the
truly minute amount which will produce the typical mental
changes. These changes usually begin in an half hour and reach
a peak at one and one-half hours. Among the outstanding
symptoms are visual hallucinations, often fantastic in structure.
While auditory hallucinations are rare, taste disturbances are
quite frequent. Consciousness itself, however, is never markedly
affected, and orientation in place remains intact, but there is
rather a profound change in the perception of time. After about
*" M. Levin, " Toxic Psychoses," ed. cit., p. 1225 ff.
*^ G. N. Thompson, "Acute and Chronic Alcoholic Conditions," in S. Arieti, op.
cit., pp. 1208-1210.
** H. Osmond, "A Review of the Clinical Effects of Psychomimetic Agents,"
Annals of the New York Acadeviy of Science, LXVI (1957), 418.
402 ALBERT S, MORACZEWSKI
eight hours the symptoms ordinarily disappear.*^ No claim is
made here that a true psychosis can be duplicated by the
use of this drug. In fact, schizophrenic patients who have
taken LSD state that the experiences induced by the drug
are different from their own schizophrenia. To date, many
experimental attempts have been made to isolate particular
biochemical changes which induce the observed effects. How-
ever, no certain conclusion has yet been reached.**
The third and final category of metabolic disorders leading
to abnormal behavior is a miscellany. In the other classes, the
disorder was traced either (1) to a congenital defect involving
an absence or a malfunction of an enzyme or hormone, or (2)
to what was called, for want of a better term, " an acquired
mteabolic disorder " resulting from a nutritional deficiency or
from ingestion of a chemical substance. Although these first
two classes can account for some of the emotional and mental
diseases, they cannot, at present, account for the psycho-
pathological conditions known as " functional psychoses." It
has been suggested in the past and again more recently that
schizophrenia, for example, is the result of an abnormal meta-
bolism producing a toxic (neuro- or psychotoxic) substance.*'^
Presumably in such an explanation, the symptomology of the
disease would be traced to the action of the endogenous toxic
compound, whereas the metabolic error producing the " psycho-
poison " would be the disease itself.
** A. Wikler, The Relation of Psychiaty to Pharmacology (Baltimore: Williams
& Wilkins, 1957) , pp. 69-70.
** H. Hoagland, "A Review of Biochemical Changes Induced In Vivo by Lysergic
Acid Diethylamide and Similar Drugs," Annals of the Neio York Academy of
Science, LXVI (1957) , 445-458; J. A. Bain, "A Review of the Biochemical Effects
In Vitro of Certain Psychomimetic Agents," Annals of the New York Academy of
Sciences, LXVI (1957) , 459-467.
*^ H. Osmond, " Chemical Concepts of Psychosis (Historical Contributions) ," in
M. Rinkel and H. C. B. Denber, ed., Chemical Concepts of Psychosis (New York:
McDowell & Obolensky, 1958), pp. 3-26; R. G. Heath, "Physiological and Bio-
chemical Studies in Schizophrenia with Particular Emphasis on Mind-Brain Rela-
tionships," in C. C. Pfeiffer and J. R. Smythies, International Review of Neuro-
biology (New York: Academic Press, 1959), I, 299-331.
MIND, BRAIN AND BIOCHEMISTRY 403
Probably the most extensive biochemical study of mental
illness has been of that large amorphous gi'oup, the schizo-
phrenias. A recently published review of the field makes it clear
that biochemists are still very far from giving a biochemical
account of schizophrenia,*'' The more thorough biochemical
approach to the problem has been to explore biochemical para-
meters of the whole body, rather than to restrict investigations
to the chemistry of the brain. *^
First of all with regard to schizophrenia, there is little doubt
that no single factor will account for it. Schizophrenia, after
all, is a generic name and not a specific disease. Further,
it is most probable that there are predisposing factors as
well as " triggering " events which must be considered. While
there is suggestive evidence for some genetic factor in the
development of schizophrenia, this is not certain. A further
difficulty is that too little is known of the brain's biochemical
topology. There is a real probability that the biochemical
changes in question take place in very restricted areas of the
brain. It is even possible that chemical systems operative in
these areas are unknown in others. Consequently, any abnor-
mality in such unique systems would be extremely difficult to
detect, since the existence and nature of the system itself would
hardly be suspected. One attractive hypothesis, though as yet
unproved, is the possibility of an abnormal metabolism of
commonly occurring substances, such as epinephrine yielding
adrenochrome, adrenolutin or similar compounds.*^
The isolation of serotonin (5-hydroxytryptamine) , a sub-
stance found in the brain in relatively high concentrations
(although also present in other tissues of the body) , has raised
the hopes of some that this substance might be implicated in
"S. S. Kety, "Biochemical Theories of Schizophrenia," Science, CXXIX (1959),
1528-1532 and 1590-1596.
*''' D. Richter, " Biochemical Aspects of Schizophrenia," in Derek Richter, ed.,
Schizophrenia: Soinatic Aspects (New York: MacMillan, 1957) , pp. 53-75.
** A. Hoffer, "Adrenaline Metabolites and Schizophrenia," Diseases of the Nervous
System, Monograph Supplement, XXI (1960), No. 2, pp. 1-8.
404 ALBERT S. MORACZEWSKI
the etiology of schizophrenia.*'"' It has been suggested that a
metaboHc disorder which alters the concentration of serotonin
in the brain would result in a psychosis.^" Notwithstanding the
amount of evidence to show that serotonin as well as several
other compounds (e. g., norepinephrine, acetylcholine, gamma
aminobutyric acid) have important roles in the proper func-
tioning of the brain, no definite conclusion can yet be drawn
with regard to their causality in mental illness. Another sub-
stance which has been suggested as a causative agent in schizo-
phrenia is taraxein.^^ This compound, isolated from the blood
of schizophrenic patients, has been known to produce bizarre
behavior in animals and in volunteer human subjects." The
chemical nature of taraxein has not yet been determined pre-
cisely. Unfortunately, not all the evidence supports the view
that taraxein is a psychotoxic substance produced by schizo-
phrenic patients. ^^ Consequently, no single substance has yet
been found which conclusively induces this particular mental
condition.
■3t * *
There remains the task of correlating relevant material
already discussed with certain observations. First, too little is
known at present for an adequate biochemical specification of
the exact nature of mental health; it is not even possible to
associate a particular disease with a specific biochemical change
or with a pattern of changes (with the possible exception of
*' Kety, op. cit., pp. 1592-3.
^"D. W. Wooley and E. Shaw, Science, CXIX (1954), 587; J. H. Gaddum,
" Drugs Antagonistic to 5-Hydroxytryptamine," in CIBA Foundation Symposium
on Hypertension (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1954) , pp. 75-77.
" R. G. Heath, S. Marten, B. E. Leach, M. Cohen and C. Angels, " Effect on
Behavior in Humans with the Administration of Taraxein," American Journal oj
Psychiatry, CXIV (1957) , 14-24.
'^^ R. G. Heath, S. Marten, B. E. Leach, M. Cohen and C. A. Feigley, " Behavioral
Changes in Nonpsychotic Volunteers Following the Administration of Taraxein, The
Substance Obtained from Serum of Schizophrenic Patients," American Journal oj
Psychiatry, CXIV (1958) , 917-20; R. G. Heath, B. E. Leach and M. Cohen, "Mode
of Action of Taraxein: Follow up Studies," in Gibbs, op. cit., pp. 17-43.
"Kety, op. cit., pp. 1590-91.
MIND, BRAIN AND BIOCHEMISTRY 405
certain mental deficiencies as mentioned above) . Further, it is
extremely hazardous at present to say whether the observed
biochemical abnormality is the cause or the effect of a mental
illness. They might even be concomitant, the result of a
common cause. While the tendency in research at present has
been to search for a gross and manifest biochemical abnor-
mality, it is entirely possible that small changes in one ana-
tomical area may be accumulative with similar small changes
in other areas. Further, the deviation from the normal range
in the activity of one biochemical system, though relatively
insignificant in itself, may be highly important when coupled
with changes in other chemical systems that serve the same ulti-
mate behavioral expression. Notwithstanding certain reversals
met with in current research, we may say summarily that the
experimental determination of some kind of disturbance in the
biochemistry of the central nervous system, at least, is con-
fidently expected. It might further be noted that mental health
might be dependent, in the chemical order, on the proper con-
centrations of certain compounds and on activities of particular
enzymes in specific areas of the brain, whereas mental illness
may result from an imbalance of these very same substances.^*
The fact that chemical compounds, e. g., LSD, mescaline,
amphetamine, can bring about symptoms of mental illness
suggests the brain's chemistry has been disturbed.
On the other hand, it is possible that mental health and
disease involve the chemistry of the entire body and not merely
that of the brain. It is generally recognized that the body
under stress responds with a change in the endocrine balance.^^
The basic hormonal and biochemical patterns of the body,
which may represent the physiological component of tempera-
ment, could act as a dispositive cause for certain behavioral
54 ■
L. G. Abood, " Some Chemical Concepts of Mental Health and Disease," in
The Effect of Pharmacologic Agents on the Nervous System (Baltimore: Williams &
Wilkins, 1959), p. 393.
^^ J. S. L. Browne, " The Interplay Between Endocrine Disturbance and Psy-
chological Aberrations," CIBA Foundation Colloquia on Endocrinology, vol. Ill,
Hormones, Psychology and Behavior (Philadelphia: Blakiston, 1952), pp. 112-19.
406 ALBERT S. MORACZEWSKI
disturbances, whereas the actual disturbance itself might have
as its proximate biochemical cause the altered chemistry of the
brain.
Nevertheless, there is no basis for the claim put forward by
some, that all mental illnesses will some day prove to have
their origin in such chemical changes. It is well known that
a persistent emotional reaction with its attendant chemical
changes can bring about changes of a more permanent kind,
which in turn produce the variety of pathological behavior.
Even a moral stress can be the primary factor in the etiology
of an individual's mental aberrations. Some moral stresses
could conceivably be successfully countered in the shelter of
the mind for a time. But sooner or later such stresses would
bring in their wake emotional involvements with the conse-
quent alteration in the normal biochemistry of the individual.
More commonly, moral problems arise from patterns of activity
and emotional behavior at variance with a person's moral code.
Consequently, a daily involvement in such biochemical storms
could rightly be expected to result in more permanent chemical
changes. These changes would then be the molecular roots for
the abnormal mental symptoms.
How then can a mental disease be reversed by psychotherapy,
if biochemical changes are the substrata of the disease.? One
likely answer is that psychotherapy removes, gradually per-
haps, the state of moral or emotional stress. Once these stresses
have been removed, the attendant biochemical changes should
reverse, unless relatively irreversible structural changes have
taken place, and general homeostatic mechanisms will tend to
restore normal biochemical functioning.
It should be remembered that pharmacological treatment of
mental illness is more symptomatic than curative, unless the
primary cause of the illness happened to be a truly biochemical
disturbance. In this case a compound which will restore the
normal biochemical pattern will also remove the psychological
symptoms due to the abnormal chemistry. The use of phar-
macological agents in the immediate treatment of abnormal
MIND, BRAIN AND BIOCHEMISTRY 407
behavior has been almost purely empirical. Yet, not only have
such agents alleviated the disturbing symptoms, but they have
often permitted other means of therapy to be more effective.
Patients, otherwise unapproachable, can be made amenable to
psychotherapy in this way. Then, too, a number of drugs are
extremely useful in exploring the chemical foundations of nor-
mal and abnormal behavior.^® Once again the sensitivity of
man's emotional and mental makeup to his chemical environ-
ment is clearly indicated.
Fear has been expressed by some that the elucidation of the
biochemical factors of behavior might compromise man's free-
dom and his moral responsibility. This would be true if his
mind were no more than the functioning brain. In the last
analysis man's freedom and moral responsibility are guaranteed
by the spiritual, the immaterial nature of his mind. The mind
does indeed depend upon the brain for the raw material of
its thought, and the will is influenced by emotions and feelings.
But the mind and will, transcending neurons, chemical and all
matter, function with a certain independence from material
limitations, and consequently cannot be forced by anything
material. Only the hylomorphic interpretation of man's pecu-
liar nature can explain satisfactorily his existential unity and
his dependence upon as well as his transcendence over bio-
chemical composition.
Albert S. Moraczewski, O. P.
Houston State Psychiatric Institute,
Texas Medical Center,
Houston, Texas.
^"M. Sidman, "Behavioral Pharmacology," Psychopliarmacologia, I (1959), 1-19;
R. M. Featherstone and A. Simon, A Pharmacologic Apjrroach to the Study of the
Mind (Springfield: Thomas, 1959) .
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO
Q*J>
THEOLOGIANS and philosophers have rightly stigma-
tized Freud's concept of moral conscience as a carica-
ture of the real thing. The psychological phenomenon
which Freud called the superego, and which he equivalated
with the traditional notion of conscience, in fact lacks the
essential note of conscience. Nevertheless, since Freud was a
gifted investigator, the presumption is that the superego is a
reality and, since Freud credited it with a significant note in
human activity, it would seem to be something important.
The following paper attempts to analyze Freud's conception
of the superego in terms of Thomistic thought, comparing it
with more valid notions of conscience, and defining the area
in human activity, especially in moral activity, into which the
functioning of the superego enters as something significant.
I. The Notion of the Superego
(1) The Fundaments of Human Nature According to Freud.
Speaking broadly, the superego is the part in a man which
tells him that he ought to do something or ought not to do it.
In Freud's conception, a mature human personality comprises
three basic structures: the id, the ego and the superego. If a
rough description is permissible at the beginning, the id may
be called the pool of instinctual drives, repressed complexes
images and thoughts — a wholly unconscious area of the mind.
The ego is the agency of all sense perceptions and conscious
thought, and the initiator of deliberate activities. The super-
ego is the source of moral incitement and constraint, and is
largely unconscious.
Of these three, the primitive part and only native part is
the id. In the id, instinctual impulses arise, and indeed arise
by a natural and uncontrollable necessity, welling up con-
408
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 409
tinuously, as it were, as the psychological manifestations of
more basic vital processes. When an impulse — the raw material
of psychological life — arises, it is credited with creating a
psychological tension; when it is discharged through some
appropriate motor activity (as, for example, the infantile
impulse to suck may be satisfied by the breast) , the tension
is dissolved. This relief of tension is pleasure; the law of the
id is to seek it. Once an instinct has found an appropriate
means of satisfaction, it becomes attached to the activity, and
to the images and ideas of that activity, and henceforth is
oriented towards obtaining satisfaction continuously through
the same activity.
It happens, however, in the course of his development, that
a child finds certain satisfactions prohibited, restricted, or pre-
vented— he is not allowed to take the breast, or not allowed
to keep it as long as he likes. He becomes more aware then
of the impingement of the outside world; he is forced to take
reality into account. Thus the ego begins to develop. The ego
comprises the perceptions of the outer world, the coherent
central processes of the individual, and the processes by which
conscious motor activities are carried out. The principle that
rules in the ego is reality; it relates man to the self he finds
himself to be and to his environment. Fundamentally, of
course, the ego is at the service of the id. Although it is attuned
to reality, its main function even in this regard is to locate
in reality the most appropriate means of satisfying instinctual
impulses for the id, while avoiding the disagreeable results
this satisfaction might sometimes entail.
To obtain its proper results, the ego must ' censor ' the
instinctual movements of the id, that is, when the id demands
some satisfaction which the ego has learned is actually pro-
ductive of disagreeable results — pain, punishment, parental
disapproval — the ego must negate the id's demands. A con-
flict ensues when the ego refuses to execute the action sought
by the id. Eventually the ego refuses even to allow the idea
to remain in consciousness; it suppresses the idea. But the
410 MICHAEL E. STOCK
idea with its instinctual drive does not die; it vanishes into the
unconsiousness of the id, where it remains, still dynamic, still
restless, still seeking some new outlet. How it can get past
the censorship of the ego, and accomplish its purpose is a long
and involved story; it is sufficient here to note that sometimes
the instinctual drives successfully accomplish their aim; some-
times they are deflected from a minor object without severe
psychological injury resulting; sometimes they are deflected at
some cost to psychological balance.^
Within the ego, the superego is formed. Freud's earliest
works did not mention this mental agency, but after long
investigation, he found himself constrained to postulate some
institution in the mind distinct from the ego and the id."
He found that much of the censoring process — the ' do this '
and ' do not do that,' in the sense of moral obligation — was
accomplished not consciously, as the ego works, but uncon-
sciously; and not on the basis of reality as the ego perceives
it and consciously evaluates it, but on some other basis more
^ Cf. Freud, " Neurosis and Psychosis," Coll. Papers, Vol. 2, pp. 250 seq. (Hogarth
Press, London, 1956)
' Perhaps it would be useful here to note two of Freud's methodological canons,
as an aid to following his reasoning on these subjects. First of all, he tried always
to proceed on a strictly empirical basis. He would examine the psychological mani-
festations— thoughts, images, feelings, urges — as they were conscious or latent or
dreamed, whether they seemed meaningful or not, whether they were competent or
apparently disorganized and defective — and from the material gathered proceed to
the postulation of the mental structures to explain them. This is, of course, the
classic mode of procedure in establishing a faculty psychology; Freud, however,
totally disavowed faculty psychology. To distinguish faculties by their acts and
objects, and, more to the point, from their activities and objects, seemed to him a
display of sterile theorizing. He was content in determining manifest activities in
their concrete complexity, and the hidden activities, especially buried complexes,
they seemed to postulate, but he did not attempt to define a structure of faculties
which might underlie the variety of activities. His result would most resemble, in
Thomistic terms, a description of actual habits or dispositions. Secondly, Freud tried
to conceive the elements of his psychological structure in mechanistic and physical
terms, in consonance with a basically anti-vitalist and materialist outlook. For this
reason, many of his conceptions and the terms he uses to express them, seem mere
metaphors, and not particularly apt metaphors, for the world of machines does not
do justice to the subtleties of the mind. Once however these biases are taken into
account, the real meaning of the things he is discussing is more apparent.
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 411
or less divorced from reality; and that this mysterious censor-
ship's function was often effected with a psychological force
considerably greater than that which usually accompanies
reality-oriented activities. He formulated therefore the notion
of the superego. The superego is a largely acquired but uncon-
scious agency of censorship, formed within the ego, which
forbids and commands and punishes disobedience by generating
painful feelings of guilt.^
(2) Arguments for the existence of the superego.
What are the evidences for such a mental institution? First
of all, there is the argument from the psychology of child
development. Infants even at an early age are subject to a
certain amount of ' training,' a matter of parental prohibitions
or demands, reinforced with smiles and rewards or with frowns
and punishments. In the beginning, the child must be con-
stantly prompted to do what he has been told; the enforcing
agency is part of the reality external to himself. Eventually,
however, he will begin to do what he has been told even when
his parents are absent. Evidently he has made their exhor-
tations and prohibitions part of his own mental equipment.
He has absorbed, not only what they have told him should be
done or not done, but has also absorbed, or developed, the
impulse to follow these directions. This, in a superficial way,
is a description of the forming of the superego.*
Another argument for the superego is drawn from a situation
common in psychoanalysis, the occurrence of ' resistance.'
When analyzing a patient, Freud would endeavor to have him
relate all the thoughts and images that came to his mind by
the process of relaxed, free association. In this way he hoped
to uncover the more or less hidden mental complexes which
lay at the source of the patient's troubles. But he frequently
^ Freud, loc. cit.
*Cf. Freud, "On Narcissism: An Introduction," Coll. Papers, vol. 4, pp. 50-53;
Joseph Nuttin, Psychoanalysis and Personality, pp. 19-20. (Sheed and Ward, New
York, 1953).
412 MICHAEL E. STOCK
found that the patient would offer ' resistance ' to the flow of
thoughts — his memory would ' fail,' he would be unable to
make a connection, he would dismiss a line of thought as
meaningless and irrelevant. Often these breaks in the mental
flow were accompanied by fairly distinct feelings of emotional
distress. Or again, sometimes, when a sound explanation of
some of the patient's thoughts or feelings was offered by the
analyst, the patient would firmly or even violently reject them,
for no manifestly good reason and with a gi'eat show of emotion.
Freud concluded that the mental force which originally cen-
sored and repressed certain ideas (which were generally shame-
ful or painful or humilating or in some way highly disagreeable)
must be still operative in the psychism, and that, moreover,
its present activity was itself largely unconscious. Therefore,
besides the conscious censorship of the ego function, it was
necessary to postulate another unconscious censoring agency.^
Another factor which enlarged and confirmed the concept of
the superego was the sense of moral obligation manifested by
many neurotics. Many patients who came for psychoanalytic
treatment exhibited an intense need to measure up to moral
standards often impossibly high and rigid. They seemed to be
driven to achieve perfection according to self-imposed goals,
and unable moreover to make allowances for any personal
weaknesses or external circumstances which might make the
goals unattainable. Ruled by these interior compulsions, they
were unable to find satisfaction in the reasonable goals most
people are contented with, unable to find peace in anything
other than the achievement of their standards. Failure was
always attributable to some fault on their part, and failure
was followed by an acute sense of guilt. (This was also regarded
as a weakness to be stamped out, and failure to overcome it
produced further guilt feelings.) The standards by which they
lived seemed beyond their own judgment, modification and
control — they were unquestioned and unquestionable — and in
fact, they seemed to be largely unconscious. Such a phe-
* Cf. Freud, The Ego and the Id, pp. 15-18. (Hogarth Press, London, 1957)
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 413
nomenon contrary to the best interests of the patient and
seemingly imposed by some hostile and alien, and yet internal
agency, seemed to Freud to demand a special mental structure
to account for it.®
To these main arguments, Freud added others, not always
as plausible. He seemed to think, for instance, that the presence
of the superego was betrayed by ordinary phraseology in every-
day speech. Thus the exprssion: " I feel inclined to do this
but my conscience says ' no '," led him to infer the existence
of a power in man separate and contrary to the primary
personality, the " I." As has been pointed out, however, the
same situation can be expressed: " I will not do this, although
I am tempted to." Now this would indicate that the primary
personality is separate from and contrary to the inclination.
All, in fact, that can be deduced from such expressions is the
presence of a duality; nothing can be concluded about the
primacy of the factors involved.'
But leaving aside the debatable proofs, what can be deduced
from the admissible evidence.'* Certainly many of Freud's
observations as cited above are psychologically meaningful.
Before we deduce any final conclusions, however, about the
superego, we must go into a more thorough account of its
actual formation, and this brings up the question of the Oedipus
complex. For Freud, the superego — this inner sense of com-
pulsion to do or not do — is formed out of the resolution of the
Oedipus complex, and cannot be understood on any other basis.®
(3) The origin of the superego.
The Oedipus complex may be described briefly as follows.
In infancy a male child develops first of all a strong instinctual
atti action towards his mother, based on the warmth and affec-
* Freud, "On Narcissism: An Introduction," Coll. Papers, vol. 4, pp. 50-59. Cf.
Karen Homey, New Ways in Psychoanalysis, pp. 207-210; Freud, " The Economic
Problem in Masochism," Coll. Papers, vol. 2, pp. 265-66.
'' Cf. Nuttin, Psychoanalysis and Personality, p. 178.
* Freud, The Ego and the Id, pp. 40-46.
414 MICHAEL E. STOCK
tion she shows, and the satisfaction of his hunger by nursing,
etc. At the same time he is identifying himself with his father,
that is to say, he begins to mold himself on the pattern of his
father.^ He does this, not only because he is like his father,
male, but also because he wants to share in the affection his
mother has for her husband. In a few years, as the child
passes through the ages of four and five, the increasing inten-
sity of affection (which Freud conceived as basically sexual)
for the mother, puts the father more and more in the light of
a rival and an obstacle to the exclusive enjoyment of the
mother's favors. Jealous and hostile feelings arise toward the
father; the wish to get rid of him and replace him in the
mother's affections becomes more manifest. This combination
of identifying-hostile feelings (ambivalent feelings) towards the
father and affection for the mother constitutes what Freud
called the simple positive Oedipus complex. If this description
in more or less Freudian terms seems hard to accept, perhaps
the reality underlying the description can be more readily seen
in the formulation of another psychoanalyst: In a child, love
is extraordinarily wholehearted and jealous.^"
In a girl child, the normal development of the complex is
like that of a boy, but with the roles of each parent reversed;
her ambivalent feelings develop with regard to her mother,
with whom she identifies and whom she wants to supplant in
her father's affections.
In either girl or boy, the situation can become much more
complicated, and, according to Freud, usually does. The boy
' The concept of identification is a key concept in depth psychology. It signifies
a psychological reaction something like imitation but much more profound. ^Vhen
a child identifies himself with another, he does not merely take up his patterns of
behavior, he absorbs into himself wholeheartedly the ways of thinking, feeling, acting
of the other person, and not only consciously but, so deep is the sense of unity with
the other person, even consciously. The two principal motives behind identification
are lost love and emulation. "When one who is loved must be renounced, a com-
pensation may be made in the form of identification, or when one meets a rival,
identification can be motivated by the desire for equality with him. See Baudouin,
The Mind of the Child, pp. 245-46. (Dodd, Mead & Co., New York, 1933)
^"Baudouin, op. cit., p. 51.
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 415
may not only have ambivalent feelings towards his father and
simple affection for his mother, but he may display an affec-
tionate, feminine attitude towards the father, and a corre-
sponding identification and jealousy towards his mother, for
in Freud's opinion, each individual is basically bi-sexual. In
this case there is a two-fold Oedipus complex, also called the
complete complex. Its parallel, with the proper substitutions,
can be found in girls. Generally this secondary or inverted
complex is subordinate to the primary complex as described
respectively for a boy or a girl; it is possible, however, that it
be the dominant complex in the child, in which case the basic
instinctual orientation is reversed. In actual practice, the whole
range of possibilities is found realized, from simple positive
complexes to complete inverted ones.
However, in the complete Oedipus complex, there are only
four instinctual trends to account for, regardless of their or-
ganization. For the sake of simplicity, we will limit ourselves
to the case of the boy: his primary affection is for his mother,
with a sense of identification with his father and a sense of
hostility towards him as well. Secondarily, he has affection
for the father with identification and jealous reactions towards
his mother.
The next step is the dissolution of this complex. It is evident
that the child cannot long endure the tensions aroused by the
Oedipus complex. He cannot tolerate feelings of hostility
towards his parents on whom he depends for all his love,
affection, approval, protection, parents who are so much
stronger than he is. He must suppress his hostility and its
cause — the Oedipus complex.
The first step in this dissolution involves giving up the
mother as an object of affections, and principally for fear of
the father's punishing power. But it is not easy to give up
an object one loves — something must take its place. In this
dilemma, the boy can respond with either of two alternatives:
he can either identify with his mother (we can give up a love
object if we take it into ourselves, into imagination and
41G MICHAEL E. STOCK
emotion, and there cherish it) or he can intensify his identifica-
tion with his father (we can evade aggressors by identifying
with them) .'^ This latter alternative is termed the more
normal, for it confirms the masculinity of the boy, and allows
him to retain a certain affection for his mother, i. e. after the
pattern of his father's with whom he has now identified him-
self. The relative strength of the masculine-feminine disposi-
tions in the child determines, in Freud's early opinion, which
identification will preponderate.
Insofar as the boy identifies with his father, not only does
he preserve his relationship to his mother as love object, but
his relationship to his father as love object (the inverted
element in the complete Oedipus complex) is dropped. Simi-
larly, in renouncing his mother as primary object of love, and
in overcoming his jealousy towards her, he will achieve by
identification an affection for the father, patterned on the
mother's. The Oedipus complex is now wholly resolved, as
the boy is strongly identified with his father and mildly with his
mother, and affectionate towards both, hostile towards neither.^^
(4) The superego is born.
The identification with the two parents is the beginning of
the superego, the origin of the sense of right and wrong, the
starting point for ' morality,' religion and culture. In virtue
of the identification of himself with his parents, into which he
has been pressed by the need of overcomnig the Oedipus
complex and the conflict which ensued from it, the child
unconsciously and unreservedly makes his own the attitudes
towards right and wrong which have been expressed by his
parents, for his very sense of rightness and wrongness is the
introjected image of parental approval or disapproval. Hence-
forth he feels inwardly that he must do the things dictated
by parental images he has absorbed, and this is the sufficient
^^ Cf. Anna Fred, The Ego and Mechanisms of Defense, pp. 117 seq. (Hogarth
Press, London, 1954)
"■" Freud, The Ego and the Id, pp. 40-46.
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 417
reason for his sense of obligation; similarly, he must avoid
what the inwardly adopted images forbid, and if he does not,
he feels guilty.
For Freud, this is the sole source of moral ideas; there is
no place in this scheme for intelligent insight into the natural
order of things or of values as a possible principle of the sense
of morality/^ Deliberate consideration and judgment play no
part in morality; the moral norms for any individual are the
parental images, with all their imaged laws, commands, power
and authority, which first exist for the child in external reality
and are then automatically introjected by the attempt to be
free from the Oedipal conflict. Thus Freud terms the moral
sense a precipitate in the ego of the parental figures, deriving
its compelling force from the sexual urges which have been
inhibited and re-channelled, deflected from their primal aims
and objects precisely by means of the formation of parental
images. By the force of these mental identifications, the child
is determined in his sense of morality — all that he will do and
say, think and like, is now established for him through parental
identification/* Morality then, is essentially infantile, on a
level with the mental development of the child absorbing it,
and hence uncritical. It is, moreover, unconscious, perhaps
because it was formed at an unreflective stage of life, perhaps
because the crisis by which it was formed and with which it is
associated was a painful crisis, and thus subject to repression;
these points are not clear in Freud.
^' Some of Freud's disciples hold that the sense of morality has origin in elements
which are prior to the dissolution of the Oedipus complex (cf. Ferenczi, Melanie
Klein, Erikson) , and others give some weight to the function of reason (the reality
related ego) in forming the moral sense, but it seems safe to say that all orthodox
Freudians make the effects of the dissolution of the Oedipus complex the major
component in the production of a sense of right and wrong. In Freud's own WTitings
there is mention of pre-oedipal elements, e. g. instinctual movements and formations,
which presumably would have some effect in the development of a sense of
morality, but it does not seem that Freud himself made the deduction explicit.
See, for example, " Instincts and Their Vicissitudes," Coll. Papers, vol. 4, pp. 75-79.
^* Freud, " The Economic Problem in Masochism," Coll. Papers, vol. 2, pp. 263-
266; The Ego and the Id, pp. 46-51.
418 MICHAEL E. STOCK
In actual fact, of course, the identifications mentioned above
may not take place so easily. If the Oedipus complex itself is
not normal, or if it cannot be completely resolved normally,
the stage is set for later psychological difficulties. These con-
siderations, however, are irrelevant to our present point. Here
we wish only to inquire further into what this mode of forma-
tion tells us about the superego itself — what character is
imparted to the superego from the resolution of the instinctual
forces which comprised the Oedipus complex.
Obviously, insofar as the superego is formed by the process
of identification, it serves as a norm or ideal for the ego, as a
pattern to which the child must conform. A boy wants to be
like his father, and feels that he does wrong if in any way he
fails to live up to this ideal. This is the simple ego-ideal aspect
of the superego, the basis for the urge to strive for perfection.
But along with this ideal-pattern aspect, there are certain
prohibitions set up in the child's mind: he must not do certain
things that his father does. This aspect — the taboo-aspect —
is understandable when we recollect the original motive for
forming the ego-ideal — the child wishing to escape from the
tensions aroused by feeling rivalry for the father. He escaped
by avoiding any further competition with his father, with
regard to his mother's affections; he left the field to his rival
and contented himself with emulating him. Inextricably bound
up with the image of his father are his father's prerogatives:
his special place in the mother's affections. The child then has
abandoned his former role of rivalry; he is careful now not to
trespass, he formulates a series of prohibitions whose funda-
mental enforcement agency is, subjectively, the forbidding
image of his father. This is the basis of the prohibitory sense
in people. The superego then is twofold: to be like the father,
and not to do everything he does.^^
To a lesser degree, in the resolution of the normal complete
complex, the child also wants to be like his mother, and yet
not like her, i.e. not to take her place in his father's affections.
^^ Freud, The Ego and the Id, pp. 44-45.
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 419
With these deep desires as their roots, all the prohibitions,
exhortations, expressed or implied wishes, ideals, goals, opinions,
and attitudes, etc. of his parents take on added force and
meaning — they begin to constitute for the child the code by
which he regulates his life; the code which, if he obeys it,
produces a sense of contentment like the contentment he felt
when his parents approved of him; the code which, when broken,
gives him a sense of guilt or wrongdoing like the guilt he felt
when he experienced a threat in his relationships with his
parents.
The force of the superego depends on many factors. The
stronger the original Oedipus complex, the stronger the identi-
fications necessary to resolve it, and therefore the stronger the
ego-ideal which results from it. The more rigid and harsh the
parents were, the more rigid and harsh is the image developed
from them, and the more urgent the need of resolving the
complex — both factors producing a more exacting superego.^®
Other factors may also account for the strength of a superego.
In every person there is a certain narcissistic element — self-
love — which varies inversely with the strength of his object
loves. (It is a matter of common experience that love of self
impedes love of others, love of others leads to a certain self-
forgetfulness.) Now a child has an enormous narcissistic love,
almost a megalomania. He can be pictured as thinking that the
whole world revolves around him, that he should have every
satisfaction, and he becomes enraged when thwarted. Freud
asks: Where does this narcissistic love go in the adult, for
obviously it is much diminished in normal adults. His con-
clusion is that, since this love must be directed somewhere, it
must have been absorbed in the love of the ego-ideal. This
accounts for much of the force the ideal exerts on the ego, (e. g.
it has the force of the displaced narcissistic impulse) and mani-
festly the greater the degree of narsissistic love, the stronger
is the resulting superego. ^^
^^ Freud, "The Economic Problem in Masochism," Coll. Papers , Vol. 2, pp.
263-66.
17
Freud. " On Narcissism: An Introduction," Coll. Papers, vol. 4, p. 50.
420 MICHAEL E. STOCK
In a similar fashion, the drives of other basic instinctual
impulses are found expressing themselves through the superego.
The masochistic element, which finds pleasure in being hurt,
turns up in the superego as ' obedience * and submission, or as
self-deprecatory or self-accusing impulses.^* The exhibitionist
urge is displaced into the desire for approval. Sadistic impulses,
which find pleasure in hurting, turn up as moral domineering,
as contempt for others because of their * moral * inferiority. In
general, the fundamental libidinal impulses are deflected from
their sexual orientation to the parents (infantile objects) to
de-sexualized social relationships, to institutions of law, religion,
politics and all forms of public and community activity, for
which one now has respect, love, devotion, etc., as the super-
ego pattern dictates .^^
In Freud's formulation these evolutions of instinctual move-
ments to new aims and objects must be understood as simple
mechanical transfers of psychic energy from one mode of dis-
charge to an alternative mode more acceptable to the ego. New
objects were demanded by the ego when infantile objects were
found to bring punishment; the id is satisfied as long as they
can substitute for the primitive objects. Essentially, however,
the id always retains its primal orientation; hence a person who
is later loved because he resembles the parent, is loved by the
same instinctual urge that originally found satisfaction in the
parent. The psychic energy has been canalized to another but
basically (psychologically) identical object.^"
The result of this acceptation is that, for Freud, there is no
real development of the superego after infancy, only a kind
of re-structuralization of the primitive elements. The norms
^® Freud, op. cit., pp. 52-55; see Dalbiez, Psychoanalytic Method and the Doctrine
of Freud, vol. I, p. 408-409. (Longmans Green & Co., New York, 1948) .
^* Cf. Nuttin, Psychoanalysis and Personality, pp. 44-45.
^° Cf. Nuttin, loc. cit., quoting Ernest Jones on this point. " The shift from the
original sexual object to a secondary social object is not only a substitution of the
one for the other, but rather a canalization of the primitive sexual energy in a new
direction. To state it exactly, one should speak about displacement and not about
substitution or replacement."
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 421
of moral conduct having once been established in early child-
hood, do not mature thereafter. The do's and don'ts of the
infantile period are basically the do's and don'ts of a whole
life span. As other factors make their influence felt on the
growing child — teachers, other members of the family, civil
authorities — and other ideals attract him — heroes, leaders — as
new goals and new prohibitions are incorporated into the super-
ego, they are automatically associated with the old solely in
virtue of their identifiability with the original and basic parental
images. The latter, moreover, always remain the strongest and
most decisive elements in the individual's sense of right and
wrong.
(5) The Superego after Freud.
Psychoanalysis, following Freud, has been more or less faith-
ful to his formulation of the notion of the superego, although
it has assiduously worked to clarify and enrich the concept,
Freud himself admitting that there was much yet to be ex-
plained. Ernest Jones, an orthodox disciple, introduced a
distinction into the superego, setting off a conscious sense of
morality which corresponds to adult moral valuation against
the unconscious moral norms derived from infantile reactions.
This distinction certainly goes a long way towards aligning
the superego with the moral sense as it is generally conceived. ^^
An instance of another approach, aiming at clarifying and
stabilizing the relationship of the superego to infantile mental
formations, shows the varieties of infantile thinking often
manifested in superego activity. Children, for example, exhibit
a species of magical thinking, not clearly distinguishing fact
from fancy, and wish from deed. There is also a childish sense
of justice — the child thinks he must be punished for wishes as
well as deeds, and that punishment is inevitable and poetically
proportioned to the crime. He also thinks he can propitiate an
offended authority by ritualistic acts, by undoing in an imagi-
native way the wrong he has done. This kind of thinking is
" Cf. Dalbiez, op. cit., p. 409.
422 MICHAEL E. STOCK
apparent in adults, as part of their moral outlook, especially
in some cases of neuroses."^
Since religion and morality are so closely bound together,
some authors examine religious phenomena to detect the evi-
dence of superego characteristics. Freud himself originally
interpreted the role of God as an evidence of the father
identification reaction in the formation of the superego. Others
see in the combination of exhortation to an ideal and prohi-
bition of evil acts found in sacred writings the reflection of the
two fundamental aspects of the superego, ideal and taboo. "^
These authors, as well as many others, accept Freud's basic
configurations, and develop and apply them, with the purpose
of explaining all (or perhaps only some) ethical or moral
and religious conduct on the basis of deep and early instinc-
tual movements, and the reactions to them. Others how-
ever pick and choose among the elements of the superego,
accepting some and rejecting others as insufficiently proved, or
simply erroneous. Dr. Homey, for instance, does not accept
the superego as a special mental agency, but rather as a special
need — as a need to be perfect and infallible, and a need which
must be maintained by pretense wherever reality denies it.
Like Freud, she sees the genesis of this need in parental
authority, not, however, as the resolution of untenable sexual
orientations. When a child has been forced to conform too
rigidly to parental standards, he loses his own initiative, goals
and judgments. He takes the easy way out, abandons his
sense of self-reliance, and relies solely on the approval of others,
becoming finally the victim of alien norms of conduct. These
norms then do not constitute a valid moral standard for the
individual; they are not responses to true values rightly appre-
hended and appreciated. They are nothing but a sham of
morality, which has taken the place of true standards and eflec-
*' Cf. Vincent P. Mahoney, M. D., " Scrupulosity from the Psychoanalytic View-
point," Bjilletin of the Guild of Catholic Psychiatrists, vol. V, #2.
"^ Mortimer Ostow, " Religion and Psychiatry," American Handbook of Psychiatry,
pp. 1789 sqq.
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 423
lively prevents true standards from developing. In two ways
this formulation of superego activity is a radical departure
from Freud's. In the first place, it allows for a twofold form
of moral standards in individuals — a true moral code based on
verified and voluntarily adopted standards, and a false moral
code, based on parental dominance. Freud would have all moral
codes to be of the second type. Secondly, the latter type of
moral codes does not necessarily have to appear in a child —
the Oedipus complex is not universal, hence not universally
resolved by the introjection of parental images. Hence a purely
superego-type moral standard may not always appear, and
even when it does appear, it may be resolved and supplanted
by a reasonable and conscious form of morality. What is
involved in this latter form of moral sense (and rejected in
Freud's formulation) is an enduring capacity in the individual
to grow morally, from infant morality to mature morality, by
a qualitatively differentiated development of moral insights.
Hence the effects of infantile experiences and the modes of
infantile reaction, however profound, are not the decisive deter-
minants of mature character.-*
Other psychoanalysts have followed these same general paths,
deriving many fundamental ideas from Freud, but developing
them less mechanistically, and with more appreciation of the
intelligent and free aspects of human psychology, and more
optimism about its plasticity in response to these more human
influences. Fr. Joseph Nuttin accepts the notion of the deep
influence of parental authority on the mind of children, but
insists on the positive and creative elements in the child's
reaction. For him, identification is not merely a passive adop-
tion of alien standards consequent on the repression of sexual
urges, but more a drive towards self-realization, which in the
child is admittedly in the direction of being like his father,
but even here is not wholly devoid of some kind of appreciation
of the values adopted. And as the child grows older, there is
more and more the aspect of reasonable discernment and willing
** Karen Horney, Neio Ways in Psychoanalysis, Chap. XII.
424 MICHAEL E. STOCK
cooperation in the discovery and acceptance of ideals and pro-
hibitions, which, so long as they are objectively valid, serve
not to stultify the character but to enlarge and enrich it.
There is moral growth through widening awareness and revision
of old standards in the light of new ones. This is not to say
that such a conscious drive towards self-realization operates
equally well in everyone, or entirely in anyone, but it is in
evidence frequently enough to demand some explanation be-
yond Freud's. Nuttin therefore rejects the idea that the original
identification of a child is purely the result of the failure of
sexual possession, and that subsequent identifications are really
the infantile identifications repeated in new instances, and
finally that real moral development is arrested at the infantile
stage. Finally he rejects the ubiquity of the Oedipus complex,
and, consequently, the doctrine that the resolution of this
complex results in the formation of what is man's sole agency
of normative or moral conduct, a superego.-^ This also seems
to be the position taken by Roland Dalbiez in his critique of
Freudian doctrine.-^
(b) Conclusions about the superego.
What therefore can be concluded? Certainly it can be granted
that there is an internal but acquired norm for judging right
and wrong, and that in its formation it is closely connected
with parental training, deriving indeed much of its efficacy
from the deep emotional ties with parents, which in infants
constitute almost the whole of affective life. The first and
natural impulses of a child would be to be like his parents.
It can also be seen that excessive harshness in discipline can
cause excessive rigor in the norms adopted by children, and
excessive sensitiveness to the demands of these norms, and that
obedience to the norms can generate a sense of satisfaction,
disobedience a painful sense of guilt, quite dissociated from real
^^ Joseph Nuttin, Psychoanalysis and Personality, pp. 63, 178-183.
"'Roland Dalbiez, Psychoanalytic Method and the Doctrine of Freud, vol. I,
pp. 407 seq.; vol. II, pp. 280-327.
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 425
right and wrong. These norms could, moreover, be so restrictive
that they would prevent or inhibit normal growth to moral and
emotional maturity. They could operate practically uncon-
sciously in virtue of their early and unquestioned acceptance;
they constitute the way to do things, the way things have
always been done, and the factor of unconscious influence could
be increased if the norms themselves form parts of painful
emotional complexes. These norms can become involved with
elements of self-love, of self-deprecation, of childish dependence
on others, of aggressive or spiteful attitudes. Their character
can invade and color all the moral and religious life of an
individual, and, no doubt, of a society too.
That moral codes are formed simply and universally as the
result of the repression and resolution of some sexually oriented
instinctual complex directed towards the parents is an unwar-
ranted generalization, however useful the concept might be in
understanding particular cases of abnormal mental develop-
ment. That a moral norm is nothing but an engulfed parental
image, unsusceptible of real growth and qualitative develop-
ment is also untenable, along with its corollary, that there is
no objective validity to moral, social and religious standards.
But leaving aside these exaggerations, it must be admitted
that the concept of the superego has deepened our insight into
the actual workings of the human psychism, and has proved its
value in the solution of some difficult psychological problems.
II. The Notion of Conscience
Our purpose now, however, is to try to apply some of the
conclusions taken from the study of the superego to the
traditional understanding of the notion of conscience among
moralists. Before making this application, how^ever, some am-
biguities in the use of the word ' conscience ' should be cleared
up. In its strictest sense, the term ' conscience ' is used to
designate an act of the practical intellect, expressing the moral
quality of some concrete action either to be done or already
done. It is an act of conscious knowledge, and a comparative
426 MICHAEL E. STOCK
act, measuring concrete conduct against some pre-established
norm; hence it presupposes the existence of some kind of moral
knowledge acting as the rule of its judgment. Then, in a
secondary and derived sense the word ' conscience ' is used to
designate this normative knowledge itself; for example, in the
expressions: a strict conscience, a delicate conscience. Con-
science may be taken therefore either as the act of judging
the morality of some concrete action, or as the norms (more
or less abstract) according to which this judgment is formed."
Freud also uses this distinction. Sometimes he speaks of
conscience as an act of consciousness bearing on the qualities
of obligation attaching to certain forms of conduct, or on the
sense of satisfaction or guilt attaching to them, " It would
not surprise us if we were to find a special institution in
the mind which performs the task of seeing that narcissistic
gratification is secured from the ego-ideal and that, with this
end in view, it constantly watches the real ego and measures
it by that ideal. If such an institution does exist, it cannot
possibly be something which we have not yet discovered; we
only need to recognize it, and we may say that what we call
our conscience (Freud's italics) has the required characteristics
... a power of this kind, watching, discovering and criticizing
all our intentions, does really exist; indeed, it exists with every
one of us in normal life." '^ At other times however, Freud
speaks more broadly, and conscience is the superego itself, i.e.
the norm by which conduct is judged. " We have ascribed to
the super-ego the function of the conscience and have recog-
nized the consciousness of guilt as an expression of a tension
between ego and super-ego. The ego reacts with feelings of
anxiety (pangs of conscience) to the perception that it has
failed to perform the behest of its ideal, the super-ego." -^
^^ Cf. D. Priimmer, 0. P., Manuale Theologiae Moralis, pp. 195-199, where certain
other acceptations of the word " conscience " are also given.
^* Freud, " On Narcissism: An Introduction," Coll. Papers, vol. 4, pp. 52-53.
See also: The Ego and the Id, p. 73.
*® Freud, " The Economic Problem in Masochism," Coll. Papers, vol. 2, p. 263.
See also: The Ego and the Id, p. 49,
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 427
In the first sense of conscience, i.e. as an act of conscious-
ness, there seems to be no notable difference between Freud's
meaning of the term and the traditional meaning. In the
derived sense, in which conscience is taken as the norm of
conduct, there is considerable difference. We have seen above
what Freud believed about the formation of the norms of
conscience and about their nature. Let us briefly recount now
a more traditional idea.
(1) Conscience and the norms of conscience
following St. Thomas
According to St. Thomas, conscience is neither a faculty nor
a habit, nor any kind of inner voice which infallibly announces
the right or wrong. For him conscience is nothing more nor
less than an application of ordinary reason or intelligence, not
in the realm of philosophy nor of science nor of art, but to
particular, concrete actions or conduct, judging whether these
be right or wrong. Conduct here is taken in the broadest
sense, to include all deliberate thoughts, desires, words, deeds
and omissions thereof, and they fall under the judgment of
conscience whether they are actions already accomplished or
only proposed. In the latter case, if they are proposed, con-
science obliges, or induces and instigates, or perhaps merely
permits, or, finally, forbids. In the former case, concerning
past actions, conscience approves or disapproves, excuses and
defends or " bites." Conscience is called the dictate of reason
in these practical instances because it is the function of reason
to pass the judgment of right and wrong; it is called the natural
judge, because it is based on the native power of intelligence
knowing that right should be done and wrong avoided; it is
called the instinct of the human spirit because the spirit instinc-
tively looks for the truth in moral issues. ^°
All of this refers to the act of conscience, that is, to the
judgment passed by reason. To follow this judgment is the
'" St. Thomas, in De veritate, q. 17, a. 1.
428 MICHAEL E. STOCK
basic law of subjective morality; whoever departs from this
law sins. It follows then, that if a man never departs from
the judgment of his conscience, he does not sin. Even if his
norms are wrong through no fault of his own, he is guiltless
if he follows his conscience; but he is guilty if he departs from
it, even if by chance what he chooses to do be objectively
right. If a man's norms of conduct are objectively right, and
he always follows them, he not only does not sin, but he also
makes no mistakes. If his norms are objectively wrong, he
will not sin in following them, but he may make great mistakes
and tragic ones. He would belong to the ranks of those who
mean well but blunder. From this point of view it is of evident
moment to know how objectively true norms of conscience are
discovered, or, as moralist say, how to form a ' right conscience.'
(2) The norms of conscience.
We have said above that the act of conscience is a judgment
of reason passed on concrete actions; the norms of conscience
are the standards discovered and formulated by man's reason,
by which he can distinguish right from wrong. Reason in short
sets up the rules by which it judges.
According to St. Thomas, it is within the power of man's
reason to discover, at least in broad outline, the rules by which
he ought to live. The power of reason bears upon not merely
the superficial appearances of things, but their meaning or
significance, the essential characteristics of things and the essen-
tial relations of things to each other, not equally well in all
men nor perfectly in any man, but as always tending to a
deeper, clearer and fuller understanding of the nature of things.
The knowledge of the essences of things is not a formalistic
knowledge, like a diagram of a basic structure, for to know
things essentially not only must their nature be grasped but
also their strivings, their natural potentialities and their natural
appetites to fulfillment, and the ends or purposes which do in
fact fulfill them. Moreover, in discovering the moral order, the
power of reason must also work reflexively; man must be con-
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 429
scious of himself, and of what he is and of what he needs and
wants, reahzing his potentiaUties and the things that fulfill
them and the power he has over the means of attaining these
things in which knowledge he is not only led by his own appe-
tites, both animal and rational, but also by the pleasures and
satisfactions that one action or another in fact obtains for him.
This knowledge of himself and of the world around him cannot
remain merely scientific and abstract. To live and to live
rightly it must be applied to the concrete situation in which
he finds himself, and to the person he actually is; for this he
must be able to read signs and apply his knowledge to the case
at hand. At the heart of all this conscious activity, ruling and
informing all his conduct is the basic insight that he is respon-
sible to some degree for his actions and his life, and accountable
to greater or lesser extent for good and evil.
The fact of experience is that men know this, and by this
power of reason, do grasp and understand the purposes and
ways of life, and formulate what they have understood into
intelligent rules by which they guide themselves. Reason so
informed and instructed in the matter of conduct is the norm
of conscience. ^^
^^ In making reason the essential agent in the formulation of the norms of con-
science, there is a real danger of hyper-intellectual ism. For our present purposes, it
is necessary to underline the rational function, but the profound influence of other
psychological factors must not be overlooked. In formulating their standards of
conduct, men are deeply influenced by their ' feelings,' by the impulses, appetites,
desires, urges, etc. which move them to action; what ' feels ' right is often taken to
be right. And this is not a wholly false principle for moral guidance; essentially
man's appetites move him towards what is good for him. This is especially true if
sufficient weight is given to his rational appetites, his appetites for truth and
certainty, for justice and peace with others and for himself, for human community,
etc.
Moreover, since appetite is not a force simply extraneous to reason, but more a
co-principle of action, appetite is naturally apt to be moved by reason, and can in
fact become impregnated with the force of reason; in St. Thomas' words, it can
participate in reason. Men are psychologically plastic, subject to being molded by
their own activities. If then a man habitually follows reason, his api>etites become
reasonably formed, prone to what is reasonable, and in this way the appetitive
430 MICHAEL E. STOCK
(3) St. Thomas on natural law.
All men concur in the broadest outlines of the norms of
conscience; in St. Thomas' words: all men know the primary
principles of the natural law. That his life is good, that he
must have food, drink, clothing and shelter to preserve it
comfortably, that he must grow and mature in mind and body
are laws of life evident to all men. How he might accomplish
these ends may differ widely from man to man and nation to
nation, but that they must be accomplished is accepted by all.
That he needs a wife and family, companionship and society,
and the life of the community, is also evident — " the solitary
man is either a beast or a god " — and that he needs whatever
is necessary to preserve peace, justice and cooperation in the
community is equally evident. That knowledge and the arts,
and the power these afford are good; all men know these things
in a general way as the laws of their nature. These are the
things that make for happiness, and all men desire happiness,
at least enough to make the privations of life worthwhile.
All these things can be understood by the native power of
reason interpreting and formulating all human needs of mind
or body in terms of what men ought to do. Ultimately all men
would like perfect and flawless happiness, to know whence
force and the whole man become reasonable, i. e. virtuous. Then since reason tends
to follow appetite, appetite which is reasonable tends to conform to right reason.
However, it is also obvious from all experience that appetite can guide man
falsely, urging what is in fact wrong. In essence, the urging of appetite is never
wrong; it is only moved by its proper object, and it is right that it be so moved.
The wrongness of an appetitive movement arises because some circumstance of
time or place or opportunity is lacking, or because the degree is too great or too
little, or for some other reason to which appetite itself is blind. It is the work of
reason to weigh all the conditions of an action, and judge its suitability in the
whole context; hence it is sometimes the work of reason to resist or postpone the
satisfaction of an appetite. And if reason consistently fails in this work, appetite
may develop into a hindrance to right reason.
In discussing the formation of norms of morality, these, and indeed many other,
considerations would have to be taken into account. It is not the place here for
that discussion, but it should at least be noted that there is more to morality than
syllogizing, and with that in mind, we can safely enlarge on the role of reason in
making moral standards.
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 431
they came and where they are going and why. Should they
conceive an ultimate happiness as possible, they also seek out
the laws which govern its attainment.
Moreover, since the generalities of natural law do not pre-
scribe specific remedies for every concrete situation, men
elaborate applications of the law, either as more or less reason-
ably evident deductions from the natural law, or as simple
arrangements of convenience. These are the various positive
human laws, more or less detailed, more or less conformed to
the natural law, which, with the natural law, comprise the
customs of the community. This structure of law, prescribed
by reason and more or less reasonably expanded, is, as far as
it is grasped by each man's native ingenuity, the norm of his
conscience.
How does any individual actually come to a knowledge of
these laws? Obviously he begins by learning what his parents
teach him, and goes on learning the laws of his community,
especially from those members who are commissioned to up-
hold and instruct in the laws. Not only is his mind instructed;
the whole man is informed, molded not only by words but by
the pattern of approval and disapproval reigning in the com-
munity. Ideally, however, the role and function of reason or
intelligence should never be compromised in the educative
process; ideally the essence of the individual's growth to ma-
turity is a growth in the understanding of the truth underlying
the formulas of the law. Education should not be a merely
passive reception, nor a repressive operation; if it is well done,
the words and examples of the community and the patterns
of their aproval and disapproval underline and clarify the
truths basic to the law, quickening, broadening and substan-
tiating what the experience of the growing individual is con-
tinually teaching him.
III. Comparison of Conscience and Superego.
Is this not the superego, the acceptance first of parental
norms of conduct, and later of community norms, and is it not
432 MICHAEL E. STOCK
even a weaker explanation insofar as it neglects to account
for the deeper motives of acceptance, namely the introjection
of parental images and the instinctual bases of these intro-
jections? Superficially there seems to be a resemblance, and
perhaps that is the reason why Freud so easily equated the
superego with what was traditionally termed the norms of
conscience, but there is also an obvious difference. In the tradi-
tional account, the role of intelligence is decisive, in Freud's
account, the role of intelligence is practically negligible.
32
(1) Intelligence in conscience and superego.
In the formation of the superego, standards of conduct are
absorbed by the child without reference to their reasonableness;
they in no sense make an appeal to his intelligence and in no
sense constitute a guide and instructor of intelligence. They
are adopted by an automatic process of imitation-introjection,
for the sole purpose of resolving an instinctual conflict. They
are engulfed uncritically by an infantile mind incapable of
judgment, and in themselves are incapable of forming the power
of judgment. For St. Thomas, on the other hand, it is essen-
tially good and reasonable for the child to accept parental
judgments, and these judgments as expressed by the parents
are pedagogues for the infantile mind. Even at an early age
the child begins to find some sense in them and as he matures,
he ideally gains more and more insight, and precisely because
he was taught.^^ For St. Thomas, then, the norms of conscience
'* It would in fact have been strange if this were otherwise, for Freud nowhere in
his psychology gave adequate weight to the factor of reason in human conduct. The
reasons for this might be historical and methodological, for Freud was continually
breaking new ground in psychology with his techniques of psychoanalysis, and even
in his long and productive career did not come to the end of the trails of discoveries
in the inferior parts of the human psyche, the areas of sense and instinct. If he
had lived longer, he might have eventually satisfied himself with what was found
in these levels and turned to the phenomena of intelligence and will; but this can
now be only hypothesis. The fact remains that the function of reason has not yet
been satisfactorily established in psychoanalysis.
** This might seem, offhand, to be an unreasonably optimistic estimate of a child's
intelligence, but if we do not demand more than the bare essentials of intelligent
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 433
are planted early, even before they can be fully understood,
but by their nature they invite understanding, and ideally,
this understanding is eventually achieved. For Freud, the
norms of conscience have no particular reference to reason, are
accepted without judgment by the child, and becoming uncon-
scious are hardly ever afterwards susceptible to critical evalua-
tion. Throughout life man carries with him his basically
infantile standards of right and wrong, as a static precipitate
in the mind from the resolved Oedipus complex.^*
Another consequence of Freud's interpretation is that the
superego tends to be a wholly repressive function. It is not
necessarily so, but tends to be, for it is only by chance that an
instinctual impulse will escape the censor of the superego. Since
the superego is formed on a non-reasoned and non-purposive
basis, it haphazardly may or may not be a good agency for
guiding instinctual activities into profitable channels. (As a
result, the happiest people are those who grow up in the least
developed society; neurosis is a characteristic of civilization.)
For St. Thomas, since reason is ideally the ultimate guide of
standards of conduct, it will always tend to profit human
activity, we can find manifestations of the rational mind at a surprisingly early age,
much earlier than the age of five. We do not expect, at that age, to find intelligence
well developed and capable of sustained reasoning, but we can find definite signs of
intelligent perceptions. At the age of seven months, the average child can imitate
simple syllables, respond to and imitate gestures, heed a simple prohibition. At
fifteen months language is beginning, at two years he can himself use language, and
understand a surprising amount of what is said to him — clear signs of properly
human intelligence. He can cooperate at feedmg and dressing himself, enjoy being
the center of attention, understand a variety of verbal commands, and make up his
mind whether or not he will obey. At the age of three, he is well in control of
language, at the age of four his imagination has become inventive, his sense of
independence marked, (although not too genuine; it is conditioned on his basic
dependence) . At four and a half, he can reason, likes long discussions, shows a sur-
prising wealth of material and experience to draw on, and seems to be prompted
by an intellectual, philosophizing sort of interest. At five, he likes to be taught,
and wants to be good. (See Child Behavior, Eg and Ames, Chapter 2.) Certainly
the roots of rational morality can be planted at this age.
** Some of the post-Freudians have modified this severe position, making the
superergo a more pliable and reasonable mental structure, as has been noted above,
but Freud himself held largely to his original formulation.
434 MICHAEL E. STOCK
growth, moderating excesses without repressing instincts, and
guiding energies purposively into the surest and most rewarding
paths of development; if it fails to do this, it is the failure of
application, not of principle.
Social custom, then, for St. Thomas, does not make indi-
vidual standards; it preserves and transmits them. The work
of making them is ultimately the work of reason, of which
custom itself is the product. Moreover custom is always subject
to revision by reason, to clarification and modification, and,
ideally, the constant re-working of custom by reason brings
custom continually closer and closer to a true ideal for man's
conduct.^^
The heart of the difference, however, between Freud's super-
ego and St. Thomas' conscience rests ultimately in their
opposing views about the essence of the sense of obligation.
For Freud, the sense of obligation, and its consequent, the sense
of guilt for obligations unfulfilled, are generated primarily by
unconscious images. It is the introjected image of the parents,
threatening punishment or the withdrawal of affection, which
in a sense haunts a man all his life, as a vestige of his childhood
life, and throughout his life supplies the motivation for ad-
herence to his standards. The pressures of the fears and favors
which once dominated his real environment, and which were
absorbed from it, interiorized and soon lost to consciousness,
are the real, ultimate and adequate exjDlanation of all actions
which are motivated by the sense of right and wrong. For St.
Thomas, the essence of the sense of obligation is intelligent
insight. As soon as a man perceives, early in life and howsoever
dimly, that he is an ' unfinished product,' potential and plastic,
and able to grow and urged inwardly towards growth and
^^ Since for Freud the customs of the family and community were the standards
the child introjected, upon which he formed his ego-ideal, a problem arose, naturally,
regarding the original formation of the customs. Denying reason the function of
first perceiving and formulating the norms of right and wrong, Freud was obliged
to turn to other explanations and these were not, by his own admission, entirely
satisfactory. For a fuller account of this point, see Dalbiez, Psychoanalytic Method
and the Doctrine of Freud, vol. 11, pp. 300-312.
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 435
development and some eventual perfection, and that there are
ways of acting that profit hira and ways that damage him, and
that he (at least apparently) can choose one or the other freely
— as soon as this is perceived, even in a general and more or
less indefinite way, man responds with the sense of obligation,
i.e. with the sense of responsibility for his own actions. In
the broadest sense, he perceives without any further instruction
that he should do what is ' right ' and avoid what is ' wrong.'
These two, however, might be more precisely defined.
To sum all this up and perhaps clarify some points, some-
thing might be said of that correlative of law, namely obedience.
Against the not uncommon opinion that all obedience is, at
best, a temporary expedient, and not entirely in harmony with
human dignity, and an unwarranted imposition of one man's
will on another's — as a form of oppression. Catholic morality
has always held for the essential nobility of obedience as a
virtue for those who are subordinate. In essence, the Catholic
position is that, a man's strength and virtue should be easily
responsive to authority, if he is in a subordinate position.
Lest this position be misunderstood, a distinction must be made
immediately. There are two forms of obedience, the servile
obedience of slaves and the filial obedience of children, or the
civil obedience of citizens, and the like. In servile obedience,
the command is given and the service exacted, not for the
sake of the slave, but for the use and profit of the master.
There is no dignity in this. Filial obedience is radically dif-
ferent. Ideally, the command is given and obedience is required,
not for the benefit of the parents, but precisely for the benefit
of the child. This presupposes, of course, something more funda-
mental, namely, that in the natural order of things, children
are in a position to benefit from their parents' knowledge, love,
power and care, and will further benefit the more thoroughly
they respond to the expressions of these qualities. Ideally, their
growth will be quickest, surest and richest, if they respond
perfectly to parental guidance. Ideally, if the parental norms
are set up as prompted by love and guided by intelligence, the
436 MICHAEL E. STOCK
child will most rapidly attain the full and balanced use of his
own powers, and precisely under the influence of obedience.
In the moral order, obedience leads to the knowledge and
acceptance of the right reason which is actually right, and that
is the ideal norm of conscience.
(2) A superego-like conscience.
In the account given above of the function of reason in the
formation of the norms of conscience, and of the role of insight
and obedience, the words ' ideal ' and ' ideally " have been
carefully inserted at strategic points, for, undeniably, the des-
criptions have been more idealistic than realistic. In the world
we live in, the ideal is never achieved; if a family or community
tends to approach it, we say it is good, and where they more
or less fail, we have a more or less corrupt or degenerating
society. But wherever there is failure to attain to the ideal
development of the norms of conscience, the alternative is not
a lack of norms, for people do not live without any standards
of right and wrong. When reasonable norms do not develop,
distorted norms take their place, and if reason has not produced
the norms, they have their origin in other psychological pro-
cesses. The investigation of these distorted norms, the un-
covering of their roots and the tracing the paths of their
development have been Freud's helpful contribution in the total
picture of conscience and morality, and a contribution which
is of no small import. For while Freud did not come to a
sound notion of the nature of real conscience, he did come to
a deep understanding of the psychological processes that often
pass for conscience, and in fact the purpose, nature and con-
ditions of his work would bring him most in contact with these
aberrations. His work was mostly with those who were men-
tally or emotionally troubled, and he took advantage of the
unusual opportunities presented to him to open up to inves-
tigation by means of the technique he had invented, whole
new realms of psychological activity. He realized that factors
which operate almost imperceptibly in normally functioning
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 437
minds would be exposed by the stresses imposed on the psy-
chism, and more available to analysis. ^"^ He did not perhaps,
however, realize sufficiently the limits of his method and
material: that the patients he was examining were being moved
more by feeling and imagery than by reason. This may be the
reason he passed over the role of intelligence, in his analysis
of human activity in general, and in the study of conscience
in particular. It is also, however, the reason he may have
contributed much to the understanding of the nature of defec-
tive consciences, for the defects arise at the level of instinct,
imagery and passion.
The study of the origin of a defective conscience (i.e. a
conscience formed non-reasonably) , must take into considera-
tion both the individual in whom the conscience is formed and
the agencies forming it. The individual may have native defects
of intelligence and of emotional strength and balance which
account for the formation of non-reasonable standards; on the
other hand, all else being equal, the imparting of the standards
by parents or community may preclude reasoned acceptance.
The child is born with no innate ideas about morality or any-
thing else, and throughout his life, but especially when he is
younger, will be swayed in the formation of judgments by his
imagination and memory, by his capacity to correlate concrete
experiences, by his emotional responses, by his attitudes and
interests, and so on. He is plastic regarding moral ideals, but
the form they take within him will be markedly conditioned
by the mode of his active acceptance of them. On the other
hand, the agent forming him will function more or less reason-
ably. So far as the norms proposed and imposed may not be
reasonable, they may more baffle intelligence than enlighten it;
they may impede or distort the growth to emotional maturity.
If the norms themselves are ill-proportioned to human nature,
^'^ St. Thomas also considered certain psychological problems only in terms of
conditions of mental stress, e.g. of rapture and prophecy, and did not fail to
mention the analogies with mental disease. See Summa theologiae, II-II, qq. 171-
175; De veritate, qq. 12-13.
438 MICHAEL E. STOCK
or badly proposed, they necessarily become upon adoption
repressive and destructive. Herein is evidence of some of the
qualities Freud found in the superego.
The defect of the norms of conscience as proposed by parents
can arise in a number of ways. The rules themselves can be
too demanding, compelling an adherence to stricter standards
of self-discipline or self-denial than is reasonable, forbidding
things which in themselves are legitimate and useful. The
classic in this field is the Puritan code of standards, which even-
tually outlawed all normal human satisfactions and pleasures. ^^
Even if the standards imposed are not in themselves un-
reasonable, they may be unreasonably imposed. They may
demand too much from the child too quickly, from ignorance
of the relative weakness of the young mind; there may be too
much punishment, too strict an adherence to the letter of the
law, too little legitimate indulgence, no allowance for circum-
stances, no sense of the patience needed to train chidlren.
Or they might be too laxly proposed, or too confusedly, some-
times strictly, sometimes laxly. The child will learn what to
do, but not how to do it; he will not know what to expect of
himself, and later, what to expect of others. All the norms
proposed might be reasonable except one — how to respond to
norms.
The corruption of moral standards can also come about when
parents over-extend the legitimate scope of their action, giving
direction where they cannot actually benefit their children,
exercising authority in matters which are no more than matters
of taste, keeping the reins of authority over the growing chil-
dren too long, or even invading the legitimate areas of self-
^' Why anyone would come to adopt such strict standards is a complicated ques-
tion. It may come from ignorance, from a misinterpretation of human nature, or it
may come from weakness, as an overcompensation for an unadmitted (perhaps
inadmissible) personal weakness, or there may be elements of malice in it, as the
desire to use power to dominate rather than to serve. In any case, the defects of
those who are charged with forming the consciences of the young are not under
judgment here, nor in the cases mentioned below; they may be wholly involuntary
and free of personal guilt. Their effect nevertheless will be the same.
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 439
determination for all men, e.g., decisions in marriages and
careers, with the result that the same children as adults will
rebel against norms as such, and this in virtue of the natural
law!
Finally the corruption can occur when the norms themselves
are wrong, and this can be taught both by word and example.
If, for example, children are shown that lying and cheating
are useful, that revenge is a family matter, that kindness is
weakness, that race prejudice is an acceptable attitude, the
norms themselves which they imbibe will sooner or later, to a
greater or lesser degree, conflict with what experience teaches
them, and lead them into personal conflicts. ^^
But an inquiry into the reasons why a man fails to develop
a mature and reasonable sense of morality must consider the
individual too. Defects, as has been said, originate from the
individual's own psychological make-up, under the best of
training. Some, for example, are by temperament more timid
and diffident, inviting protection and submitting to it; others
are more agressive, looking for weaknesses and taking advan-
tage of them. Some are by temperament more placid; some
are more restless and invite restraint. Some might, even as
infants, need more food, and, if not satisfied, develop a disposi-
tion to ' greed.' Some might be friendlier, inviting gentle
treatment. In infancy, dispositions might be present to all
kinds of attitudes, to greed, spite, hostility, diffidence, distrust
submissiveness, friendliness, arrogance, and these dispositions
and their ramifications and the reactions to them may explain
in many cases the form of a deficient sense of morality.
How can all this be applied to understanding the formation
of conscience, and what has Freud contributed to this under-
standing.f' Whether the formation of conscience norms is ad-
versely affected because of some deficiency on the part of the
child in whom the conscience is formed, or because of a defect
on the part of the parents, the essence of the trouble will be
the failure of reason to form reasonable dispositions in the
^^ Cf. Summa theologiae, II-II, q. 104, a. 5.
440
MICHAEL E. STOCK
mind and heart (i. e,, in the psychological operations and their
principles) of the growing child. St. Thomas, speaking of the
universality and immutability of the natural law in men's
hearts, summarizes briefly the reasons which may make it fail,
" Some have a mind depraved by passion, or by bad customs,
or by bad natural dispositions, for example, robbery was not
reputed evil among the Germans formerly, although it is
expressly against the natural law." ^^ " In regard to other
secondary precepts, the natural law can be wiped out of the
hearts of men, either on account of bad persuasions, ... or
even because of depraved customs and corrupt habits." ***
Freud, with the methods he developed, brought forth an
amazing wealth of detail which up to that time had only been
suspected or more or less generally intuited concerning the
actual conditions of the genesis and development of a " mind
depraved by passions," of " bad natural dispositions," and
" corrupt habits." He laid the foundations of a science treating
of the instinctual movements in man and of their vicissitudes
when they are blocked, of the formations of complexes and of
psychological conflicts, of the formations of attitudes more or
less unrealistic, of the breakdown of the mind and emotional
balance under the stresses of these aberrations, of the force
of these factors and of their unconscious mode of operating.
He emphasized in a striking manner what was known before
him but not perhaps sufiiciently evaluated — the importance
of the emotional factor in the child-parent relation, not only
by the way it may take the place of reason in the adoption
of norms of conscience, but also how it reinforces the power
of reason in the development of a true conscience. It was not
perhaps realized before Freud the depths to which the child
was formed and conditioned purely on the basis of his own
emotional response to the dominant figures in his environment,
especially by the motives of love and fear. It gave many
explanation of the roots of actions and attitudes, not only from
'* Summa theologiae, I-II, q. 94, a. 4.
*° Ibid., a. 6.
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 441
the primary instinctive movements, but also from the processes
of identification, reaction formation, and the other mechanisms
which can be adopted to cope with difficulties. Finally, he
underlined the extent to which these movements and develop-
ments, being unconscious, are, once formed, not susceptible to
easy reformation.
All this is of major import in problems of judging, guiding
and reforming consciences. Until the factors are understood
which have gone into the formation of norms of conduct, the
conduct itself cannot be fully evaluated — how many evil dis-
positions which puzzle, perplex and depress their possessors
would be easier to bear with and perhaps master, if their
origins were known, and the importance of their presence not
so much exaggerated. Until the process of formation of psy-
chological dispositions is understood, how can the ground be
prepared for effecting a change .^^ Freud's work underlines the
fact that consciences cannot be reformed by simple instruction,
the re-educative process must go deeper, into the reformation
of attitudes and emotional patterns, and sometimes therapy
is necessary, and sometimes, perhaps, the only solution is to
tolerate the situation. In short, an examination of superego
functions can give some idea of the elements in man's sense
of obligation which are not an outgrowth of true moral sense,
as certain feelings of guilt are not representative of true guilt,
and of the origins of these elements in the depths of feeling
and instinct, of their validity, therefore, if there is any, and
of their invalidity, and finally of their curability if they are
curable. Certainly, this would lead to the formation of a more
balanced conscience.
(3) Some practical applications.
The insights opened up by depth psychology have not been
overlooked by moralists studying the various shapes which
consciences actually assume in ordinary life. The most explicit
applications to date have been made in reference to the
scrupulous conscience, which exhibits the classic pattern of
442 MICHAEL E. STOCK
compulsive, obsessional neurosis. The conclusion is now fairly
widely accepted that scruples are nothing more than a par-
ticular form of this neurosis, and can and should be treated
accordingly. Since scruples had previously been considered a
form of conscience defect often almost wholly unamenable to
correction, the usages of psychoanalysis can be credited with
opening up what was a practical impasse.*^
It would seem, moreover, that there is much room for further
profitable study in this area. The timidity of the timorous
conscience, the harshness of the rigid conscience, the stub-
borness of some erroneous consciences, are characteristics on
which psychoanalysis has been able to throw much incidental
light. Some of these qualities — any one of which is at least
unfortunate for the individual and for his associates — can be
understood only in the light of basic instinctual or affective
demands, or as reactions to such demands. Moreover, although
they ordinarily resist even the most vigorous deliberate and
direct attempts to eradicate them, even with all the good will
in the world, sometimes they respond with surprising ease to
the kind of indirect insight which depth psychology is prepared
to offer,*^ In most of these cases, simple instruction is not
enough to change efficaciously the basic attitudes from which
these qualities flow. There must first be a deeper reorganiza-
tion, a reversal of some more or less unconsciously adopted
*^ See: " Scrupulosity," Rev. John R. McCall, S. J.; " Scrupulosity from the
psychoanalytic viewpoint," Vincent P. Mahoney, M. D.; " The Problem of scrupu-
losity," Joseph D. Sullivan, M. D. in The Bulletin of the Quild of Catholic Psy-
chiatrists, December, 1957. Also: "La theologie du scruple," L. B. Geiger, O. P.,
and " La pastorale, et les scruples," N. Mailloux. O. P., La Vie Spirituelle, Supple-
ment, n. 39, 1956, 400-439.
*^ " Bodily attitudes such as stiffness and rigidity, personal peculiarities such as a
fixed smile, contemptuous, ironical and arrogant behavior — all these are residues of
very vigorous defensive processes in the past, which have become dissociated from
their original situations (conflicts with instincts or affects) and have developed into
permanent character-traits, the ' armour-plating of character.' . . . When in analysis
we succeed in tracing these residues to their historical source, they recover their
mobility and cease to block by their fixation our access to the defensive operations
upon which the ego is at the moment actively engaged." Anna Freud, The Ego and
Mechanisms of Defence, p. 35.
CONSCIENCE AND SUPEREGO 443
pattern of behavior, on which the defective qualities are based,
before the qualities themselves will suffer reformation. This is
not to say that formal psychoanalysis is required for every
character defect; the point is that in the psychological and
moral process of acquiring self-knowledge, the insights of depth
psychology are often the decisive ones. Therefore, spiritual
directors, counsellors, confessors and all those concerned with
the interpretation of character should be familiar with at least
the major psychological formations known to depth psychology.
To consider the multitude of specific moral problems on
which depth psychology has thrown some illumination would
be to carry this study too far beyond its original purpose.
The work of synthesis has been started and will continue, for
its practical value is already widely recognized. Eventually the
traditional expositions of morality and its defects should incor-
porate and be enriched by all that is sound in psychoanalysis,
as it has in the past absorbed and organized into itself whatever
was true and useful. This is its genius and we need have no
fear that it will forget it.
Michael E. Stock, 0. P.
Dominican House of Studies,
Dover, Massachusetts.
Part Five
SOCIOLOGICAL ASPECTS
THE CONTEMPORARY CHALLENGE TO THE
TRADITIONAL IDEAL OF SCIENCE
c*a
THE ideal of scientific knowledge which was traditional
in Western Europe until modern times reflects the men-
tality of the Greeks of the classical period of philosophy
by whom it was first formulated. The Greek of classical times
was whole-minded; he saw things primarily as a whole, and
his outlook was organic. Human life and culture for him was
not something partial and one-sided, but a complete and uni-
fied whole engaging the whole man in all his activities. The
universe itself was regarded, fundamentally, as a whole, as pro-
foundly one and simple beneath all the variety and multiplicity
of life and nature, in so far as the inner essence of reality is
simple and common to all. This implied a basic unity of action
in the universe, made evident in the reign of law; chance events
led beyond themselves to a thorough-going teleology which
reveals that the universe is logical, in so far as its structure and
activity are based on design. On the surface there is unending
change and variety; below all this flux there are permanent
elements, and the flux itself is guided by eternal and unchang-
ing laws, so that it is a rational process. The world was regarded
as a system of rational law, with unity of structure, as is most
evident in man himself, who is a part of nature; but it may also
be seen from the structure of crystals, flowers, musical sounds
and the movements of the celestial spheres. The universe is
not just a conglomeration of disparate entities, but a cosmos,
a harmonious and symmetrical whole, hierarchical in disposition.
If the universe is logical and rational, and man gifted with
reason, then he can understand the universe. It is possible and
necessary that he should enquire into the reasons of things and
events to seek the inner reality, the essence, and to discover the
laws of nature. Convinced of this, the Greek was given to
447
448 AMBROSE J . MC NICHOLL
leaping from the individual event to the general law or hidden
essence. He did not neglect the individual or contingent aspects
of reality, but he saw beyond this to the universal which they
revealed, and of which they were instances. The principles and
procedures guiding the mind in its search into the realm of
essences and causes could be stated and codified as a strictly
scientific process leading to the knowledge of the essence of
things and of the causes of events.^
Three main assumptions thus came to determine the ideal of
scientific knowledge which was taken over by the great Scho-
lastics: 1) scientific knowledge is a body of doctrine, of system-
atically connected truths about a determinate subject, founded
on experience, and reduced to principles from which they could
be deduced, and which refer to the proper causes of that sub-
ject; 2) the universe is a cosmos, an ordered hierarchy of
essences, between which there are intelligible relations, as also
between essence and properties; 3) the human intellect is able
to know such essences and to perceive such relations.
These assumptions were fully accepted by the great Schol-
astics who also worked out the implications of the Aristotelian
ideal of science. They stressed the fact that the notion of
science is analogical, being differently realised on the various
levels of abstraction, and capable of being predicated even of
God. The distinction of levels of abstraction, together with the
distinction of subject-matters and of kinds of causality, and
therefore of explanation, made it possible to elaborate a system-
atic doctrine of scientific knowledge and method remarkable for
its clarity and comprehensiveness. In the natural order, all
the sciences were seen as dependent on the supreme science of
metaphysics, which was also the vital link which made possible
the grandiose synthesis of Christian thought placing reason at
the service of faith in the divine science of theology.
^ Cf. H. D. Kitto, The Greeks (London: Pelican Books, 1952) , chap. 10; E. A.
Burtt, The Metaphysical Foundations of Modern Science (Garden City: Double-
day, 1954) , pp. 15-35. To avoid exaggeration of this aspect, see E. I. R. Dodds,
The Greeks and the In-ational (Los Angeles: University of California, 1951).
the challenge to the traditional ideal of science 449
The Modern Drift from the Old Ideal
Hardly had this sublime synthesis been attained, in the
golden age of scholasticism, than forces began to show them-
selves which began the work of undermining it. Principal
among these was Nominalism, which was, in essence, an attack
upon metaphysics, in the name of the individual, regarded as
the sole reality, to the detriment of intellectual knowledge by
way of universal concepts. If such concepts are merely sub-
jective means of ordering acquired knowledge, without any
objective reference beyond that which is present in intuitive
knowledge of individuals, then such concepts as being, cause,
substance, essence, are little more than words. In that case,
theology is deprived of its scientific character, and as a conse-
quence we find a movement towards either positive theology
or towards pietism. Philosophy, thus left to its own resources,
and cut off from being, turned either inward, in an endeavor to
guarantee its validity from within, thus becoming critical and
subjectivist; or turned to the natural sciences for support, the
Rationalists trusting above all in mathematics, and the Em-
piricists taking physical science as their ideal. With Bacon and
Descartes, the break-up of the medieval synthesis, begim by
Ockham, is, in essentials, complete; the two main paths to be
followed by later thinkers, the inductive and the deductive, the
way of analysis and the way of synthesis, have been traced
out; and philosophy, formerly the queen of the natural sciences,
though the handmaid of theology, came to be more and more
dependent on, and subordinate to, natural science.
Empiricism obviously continues the revolt of the Nominalists
against metaphysics; rejecting universal concepts, and reducing
the activity of intellect to the ordering and correlating of phe-
nomena made known by the senses, it restricts scientific knowl-
edge to one only, and that a lower form, of the kinds recog-
nised by those of a more metaphysical frame of mind. But
Descartes was perhaps even more drastic, mutilating thought
at both extremes of the central process of abstraction, its source
in sense-experience, and the supreme term into which all con-
450 AMBROSE J. MCNICHOLL
cepts must be resolved, being. Obsessed by his desire for what
is absolutely clear and evident, he ruled out sense-knowledge
as unworthy to form part of science, and the notion of being as
vague and empty. If the idea of being into which alone all
other ideas may be resolved, and from which they ultimately
derive their intelligibility, is discarded, the only unity possible
for human knowledge is that of method; and the method which
immediately presents itself, as eminently clear and certain, is
that of mathematics. Science must have a starting-point; and
if being is rejected, its place must be taken, not by one central
radiant source of light, but by several independent ultimate
units of intelligibility, regarded as clear and distinct in them-
selves, and objects of so many intuitions. Scientific thinking is
thus reduced to one of its modes, intuition, playing upon
" simple natures," such as thought and extension; and scientific
method is whittled down to a few simple rules which, in effect,
impose the mathematical type of procedure upon all the sci-
ences. Basically, this is the error of univocation; if the analogy
of being has not been grasped, neither can the analogy of
science. The vital unity of knowledge, growing out from the
basic intuition of being, gives way to a dead uniformity of iso-
lated compartments of thought, all upon the same level of
intelligibility, so that the richness and limitless variety of ex-
perience and reality are lost sight of, even the soul itself being
treated, in Gilbert Ryle's words, as the " ghost in the machine." ^
M. Maritain has described this Cartesian revolution in terms
which I cannot hope to better:
Unqualified in principle to comprehend the analogy of beings, and
so from the first closing to itself approach to divine things, the
Cartesian analysis, cutting up and levelling down, can only break
the internal unity of beings, destroy alike the originality and
diversity of natures, and violently bring everything back to the
univocal elements which it has been pleased to select as simple
principles. Henceforth, to understand is to separate; to be intelli-
gible is to be capable of mathematical reconstruction. To take a
machine to pieces and put it together again, that is the high work
^ The Concept of Mind (London: Hutchinson, 1951), pp. 15 and 16.
THE CHALLENGE TO THE TRADITIONAL IDEAL OF SCIENCE 451
of the intelligence. The mechanical explanation becomes the only
conceivable type of scientific explanation.^
Descartes' generic notion of science does, however, retain many
of the traditional elements, although deduction is regarded
rather as a string of intuitions, and induction as a kind of care-
ful inventory of simple elements; the universe is still regarded
as a cosmos, but not in virtue of his philosophical appreciation
of order and diversity. The direct object of science is presented
as the ideas of the mind, and their correlation with external
reality can be assured only by illegitimate appeals to the vera-
city of God as author of nature, and to the principle of
causality. Once such appeals were shown to be illogical, and
Hume was to show how easily this could be done, if it were
granted that the direct object of knowledge is an idea, not only
could it no longer be maintained that the universe is a cosmos,
but it would follow that the mind could not know reality as it
is in itself. The full fruits of the revolution started by Descartes
would become apparent only in the critiques of Kant.
In his preface to a well-known work by G. Gurvitch,* Leon
Brunschvicg makes some interesting reflections on the relation
between Descartes and Kant. He maintains that Kant, and
after him, German philosophy generally, did not perceive the
import of the classical rationalism of Descartes, which provided
a system of reference for placing problems about reason, by
clearly formulating the methodology of modern science, as
based upon the new mathematical physics. The mental process
employed in the new science, he argues, has nothing in common
with Aristotelian deduction or Euclidian intuition; it is not a
movement from universal to particular, or from concrete to
abstract, but from the simple to the complex. It seeks to
equate problems, and to solve them by algebraic composition.
Basing itself on an elementary equation, it attains to a vision
of cosmic phenomena as a unified whole. Thus the realism of
the intelligible world gives way to the dynamism of the intel-
^ Three Reformers (London: Scribner, 1929), p. 73.
* Les Tendances ActueUes de la philosophie Allemande (Paris, 1949) , pp. 3-8.
452 AMBROSE J. MCNICHOLL
lectual process; the intelligible is separated from intelligence,
and ontology from idealism. Descartes was able to co-ordinate
science and philosophy by thus simultaneously eliminating
Euclidian imagination and Aristotelean reasoning. This was
a complete break with the medieval tradition, a revolution
which based scientific thinking upon the creative force of
analysis, and was made possible by detaching mathematics
from the apparatus of Euclidean deduction and from the neces-
sity of spatial representation. He could thus establish a rigor-
ously mechanistic cosmology, which determines the equation
on which the conservation of the universe rests.
Kant, though he discovered this separation of intellect from
intelligence in his Analytic of Pure Reason, yet retained both
the Euclidian and the Aristotelian procedures as valid. This
led him to regard dialectical reason as supreme, and, since it is
" incurably sophistical," to look for a speculative metaphysics
which would aim at a subjective " imaginary focal-point."
This, however, is to insulate philosophy against the method-
ology of science, and to consecrate the distinction between in-
tellect and reason. This distinction, implying two forms of
thought and truth, inspired the romantic movement culmin-
ating in Hegel, who sought to make this very opposition the
main-spring of the process of reason.
Once reason sets itself above intelligence, which is essentially
the power of judging, and spurns the clear and sure methods
of positive verification of judgments, it inevitably demands that
the world it knows should show forth its own image. Intelli-
gence does not demand this; it is content to judge, to accept
things as they are. Hegel's influence, continuing that of Kant,
meant that speculation after him should be taken-up with the
problem of the irrationality of the world. And if reason de-
mands such rationality, and yet this cannot be shown, the
problem of the absurdity of reason itself is forcibly raised.
The univocizing of the concept of science, present as we have
seen in Descartes, is carried a step forward by Kant, who not
only regards physics and mathematics as prototypes of scien-
tific thinking, but replaces the correlation assumed by Des-
THE CHALLENGE TO THE TRADITIONAL IDEAL OF SCIENCE 453
cartes to exist between ideas and reality by a subjective co-
ordinating of sense-impressions by means of innate forms and
functions, and for the unifying role of the idea of being sub-
stitutes an imaginary point of reference in " consciousness in
general." The concept of the universe as a cosmos, however,
was held, both by Hume and by Kant, to be unfounded. The
unity of the universe, and its order, are primarily those of law,
and especially causal law. Hume claimed to show that causal
laws are nothing more than subjective associations of per-
ceived facts; and Kant concluded that the universe in itself is
unknowable, and that what we call the order of nature is in
fact only the correlation of phenomena in our own subjective
world of experience. The intellect must abandon its pretence
of knowing the nature of reality; the order and unity on which
it feeds are found only in the mental world, and are its own
production. This implies, however, that intellect must be re-
garded as essentially a logical faculty, and paves the way for
the glorification of logical reason in the system of Hegel. Here
the notion of science is patterned above all on logic, with
stress on the deductive phases of thought, but to the neglect
of the sources of knowledge in concrete experience. The Posi-
tivists were logical enough in repudiating such a purely logical
ideal, and could claim the authority of Kant for regarding
natural science as the only real science, so that philosophy, in
so far as it is a science, must be identified with some general
aspect of natural science.
Although the main trend of European thought from Des-
cartes to the nineteenth century considered man primarily as
one who is capable of scientific thought, especially mathematics
and natural science, yet from the start of this period voices
were raised in protest against this tendency, as being one-sided,
and in fact a depersonalization of the real man. Hardly had
Descartes put forward his mathematical angelicism, than Pas-
cal pointed out the insufficiency of philosophy, and claimed
that truth is grasped rather by the heart, by an affective intu-
ition rising up from the soul of man, than by logical or scientific
reason. The rationalism of Leibniz was offset by the humanism
454 AMBROSE J. MCNICHOLL
of Vico, for whom imagination was as important as reason, and
art and history more human and real sciences than mathematics
or physics; and the Enlightenment, centered on the glorification
of reason, brought forth Rousseau to champion the claims of
feeling and of the instinctive following of nature. The skeptical
movement, which provided the background to Descartes' efforts
to reform philosophy, contributed no little to underaiining the
confidence in reason; nor should one neglect the influence of
Protestantism, whether Lutheran or Calvinist, separating, and
even opposing, faith and reason, which was regarded as in-
trinsically corrupt. Bayle provides a telling example of the
union of skepticism with Calvinist anti-rationalism, and shows
us how far the break-up of the medieval synthesis had been
carried by the beginning of the eighteenth century.^
If Kant may be regarded as the culmination of rationalism,
he must also be seen as one of the main sources of the move-
ment away from reason, by making practical reason superior
to theoretical reason, in so far as morality alone can lead us
back to contact with reality. Fichte would develop this aspect
of the Kantian critique, using morality to explain the evolution
of all things from a primitive consciousness urged towards self-
perfection; whereas Schelling would conceive this primitive Ego
as primarily aesthetic, and regard the evolution of the universe
as an artistic creation, the work of imagination rather than of
reason. Such idealistic systems, and particularly the logical
monism of Hegel, did indeed continue the tradition of viewing
the universe as a cosmos, which is fully intelligible to the human
mind; but the universe so considered is not the world of every-
day experience, of resistant reality, but one subjectively con-
structed within the consciousness of the individual, through a
process whose inner spring and source is irrational.
The nineteenth century, although dominated at first by
Idealism and later by Positivism, witnessed vigorous reactions
against both these trends, against Idealism in the name of
■^ Cf . J. Collins, God in Modem Philosophy (Chicago: Kegnery, 1959), pp.
127-133.
THE CHALLENGE TO THE TRADITIONAL IDEAL OF SCIENCE 455
freedom, personality and responsibility which it effectively
denied, and against positivism for identifying reason as such
with the causal and deterministic instrument it had become in
the hands of the scientists. Reason has other uses besides that
of the cold calculations of the mathematicians or the correlating
of physical facts. More emphasis was being placed on the cul-
tural sciences, on art, morality, religion; and the recent rise
of two new sciences was to have a profound effect on subse-
quent thought. History, now cultivated as a fundamental sci-
ence, was to teach men to see things against a background of
temporal process, as relative to it, and as conditioned by cir-
cumstances of time and place. Biology was to lead men to
interpret reality in terms of life, especially when scientific
evolutionism would show how both history and biology could
combine to present an over-all picture of a dynamic universe.
Evolutionism taught men to regard the universe no longer as a
hierarchy built of essentially different levels of being, but as a
process, in which there is a continuity of forms, evolving one
from the other, and as a flux in which one can no longer dis-
tinguish immutable essences. Even thought is subject to similar
changes, and systems of thought are seen as necessarily relative
to the particular conditions of the mind in which they are born
and of the civilization within which they are developed. It was
but natural that Historicism should make its appearance, with
Dilthey, denying any absolute truth, and seeing philosophies
as expressions of historical periods and of recurring types of
mentalities; and that the various philosophies of life — Nietzsche,
Bergson, James — should reject the claims of the speculative
intellect in favor of those of life, or movement, or action. With
such authors, Irrationalism, at least in the sense of anti-
rationalism, takes its place as a philosophy in our modern world.
The new attitude found a premature voice in Kierkegaard,
in whom we find the revolt against Hegelianism, against the
domination of human life by science, and against the notion
of philosophy as a system of truths. Instead, he sought to
introduce once more the individual, the real existent thing, as
a category into thinking. He expressly rejected the Greek
456 AMBROSE J. MCNICHOLL
notion of science and philosophy, the Greek heritage which he
condemned as dominated by mathematics, and the typically
Greek notion of the universe as a cosmos. It is blasphemous,
he held, to attempt to unite faith and reason; the medieval
synthesis succeeded only in degrading faith. Ethics, cultivated
as a science, is but self-deception, an excuse to avoid having to
make decisions; the only reliable conclusions are those of pas-
sion. Philosophy, to be worthy of the name, cannot be the
abstract and purely academic speculation of the university pro-
fessor, but a personal thinking that is also a commitment. Man
must learn to see himself, not as a substance, but as a series of
possibilities, a chain of acts, a succession of decisions, which
keep one on the dizzy heights of freedom. The way to truth is
not that of science, or of airy speculation, but the way of sub-
jectivity, which involves grasping oneself as a unique indi-
vidual, with a unique situation and destiny, and arriving at
one's own truth, which is truth for the whole man who, far
more than intellect, is affectivity and will.*'
One may not, of course, take Kierkegaard as representative
of nineteenth century thinking, although he undoubtedly
brought clearly to light many of the motives which, perhaps
unconsciously, did influence the thought of many people. His
protest against the subjection of man to mechanism, implying
the degradation of the human person to the status of a mere
function in a society more and more dominated by science, was
to become a leading theme in the writings of the later Existen-
tialists. This revolt against scientism was soon to be strength-
ened by a crisis within science itself, beginning with the French
school of the critique of science — Cournot, Meyerson, Poincare
— which tended to show that scientific knowledge is largely
conventional, with a validity that is mainly statistical, so that
it cannot claim more than probability. The rise of the new
mathematics, such as the non-Euclidian geometries of Riemann
and Lobachevsky, together with the studies of Frege and
*Cf. W. Kaufmann, Existentialism from Dostoevsky to Sartre (New York:
Meridian, 1958), pp. 14-18.
THE CHALLENGE TO THE TRADITIONAL IDEAL OF SCIENCE 457
Cantor on the foundations of mathematics, tended to show that
mathematics could no longer be regarded as the ideal type of
absolute knowledge, but was based upon axioms and theorems
freely chosen and adopted by convention. Such studies led
naturally to an investigation of logical processes, and the sub-
sequent renovation of logic stressed the dominance of hypo-
thetical over categorical judgments, that is, of the relative
over the absolute. In mathematical physics, the theories of
relativity, and the formulation of the principle of indeter-
minacy, emphasized the part played by the scientist in building
up his theories, which were thus seen to be more subjectivist
than was formerly imagined. Relativism, already widely dif-
fused by Historicism and Evolutionism, seemed now to gather
new force from such studies on the nature of the sciences that
had hitherto been generally accepted as prototypes of universal
and absolute knowledge. In the new climate of such far-reach-
ing changes in the mental outlook of modern science, the Greek
notion of science, if at all retained, could at best be viewed as
an unattainable ideal, or, more usually, as a technique or
clarification rather than of discovery.
The Contemporary Scene
Among the main currents, outside of Catholic circles, which
are significant in philosophy to-day, and pertinent to our prob-
lem, we may mention, first of all, Physicalism, which is usually
associated with some form of Naturalism, and carries on the
tradition of Positivism and Scientism. The only form of knowl-
edge admitted as scientific by Physicalists is that delivered by
the natural sciences, which seek to formulate laws " based ex-
clusively on spatio-temporal coincidence and counting," ^ and
deal only with the local movement of bodies. Various theories
of intelligence have been proposed in line with this tendency,
such as P. W. Bridgman's Operationalism, which states that
the concept of any physical quantity must be defined by the
■^ J. Russell, S. J., Science and Metaphysics (London & New York: Sheed & Ward,
Newman Philosophy of Science series, n. 1, 1958), p. 21.
458 AMBROSE J. MCNICriOLL
description of the mental operations as well as the physical
ones by which the values of that quantity may be determined.
The meaning of propositions is to be sought, not by reference to
some shadow-world of ideas, but to a series of operations which
can be carried out empirically. All metaphysical thinking, of
the traditional type, is, of course, ruled out of court by this
standard as meaningless.
Scientists themselves, not infrequently, seem to adopt a
similar outlook, at least in practice. The changes which, in our
century, have revolutionized the scientific outlook, have gradu-
ally led scientists to seek, instead of the clear evidence which
Descartes dreamt of, only the more simple among many pos-
sible hypotheses (the Axiom of Choice) , and to regard nature,
not as ruled by objective necessity, or as fully knowable in
itself (Principle of Indeterminacy) , but as attainable only
under certain of its contingent aspects. Thought is no longer
regarded as subjectively necessary, so that absolute certainty
should not be sought (Law of Probability) ; human thought is
admitted to be very imperfect, more probable than certain,
more obscure than clear and distinct, at least concerning astro-
nomic and intra-atomic entities. Such relativism, however, is
not that of the Skeptics, but rather expresses a docile attitude
of scrupulous attention to facts. Science to-day stresses objec-
tivity, precision, rigid adherence to scientific method, and indif-
ference to the " human equation," since it is regarded as a
purely cerebral activity, which engages only the rational part
of man.^
The actual school of Analyds, particularly at Oxford, may be
said to continue the tradition of Empiricism, though in a new
key, due to the influence of symbolic logic and of recent de-
velopments in mathematics and science, in semiotics, and the
example and teaching of Wittgenstein. The tendency is to
affirm the conventional nature of knowledge, to see it as a
system for co-ordinating and interpreting facts rather than for
explaining reality. Philosophy is considered to deal with lan-
^Cf. L.-M. Regis, O. p., Epistemology (New York: Macmillan, 1959), pp. 61-73.
THE CHALLENGE TO THE TRADITIONAL IDEAL OF SCIENCE 459
guage, and to be, not a body of truths, but an activity, the
analysis of linguistic forms, in order to uncover confusions that
have their source in our manner of speaking, and to reveal that
the traditional problems of philosophy are in fact pseudo-
problems. Some kind of Behaviorism is frequently assumed in
connection with such theories, and the prevailing atmosphere
is nominalistic, although this is not so anti-metaphysical as
it is with the Logical Positivists who work out a semiotic theory
consistent with an assumed physicalism.
For Physicalists and Analysts, the subject-matter of science
seems to be restricted either to facts, whether physical or physi-
ological, and to the language in which such facts are stated.
The influence of multi-valued logical systems contributes to
undermine the conviction of an absolute truth, and logic itself
has been, to a great extent, not only symbolized, but also con-
ventionalised. The difficulties presented by a seemingly a priori
and absolute mathematics were conveniently disposed of by
Wittgenstein, who showed how mathematical propositions could
be treated as tautologies.
Recent studies on the foundations of mathematics point
mainly in the direction of Formalism, and the axiomatic ap-
proach, again influenced by the new logic, tends towards Con-
ventionalism. The mathematical sciences are generally regarded
as hypothetico-deductive systems, purely formal in themselves,
without any direct reference to reality, whose elementary no-
tions are left undefined, and whose axioms and theorems are
established by convention. Klein may be taken as representa-
tive of the new approach to geometry, which is said to treat,
not of real space, but of relations of position in any ordered
multiplicity, in so far as these can be expressed in a coherent
system, where the only principles allowed are those that de-
termine such relations, and the fundamental concept is that of
" group," applying to a series of operations, rather than quan-
tity or number. Most theorists however regard arithmetic as
more fundamental than geometry, and stress its affinity with
logic. The Logicists — Cantor, Frege, Dedekind, Russell —
reduce mathematics to logic, and try to construct a mathe-
460 AMBROSE J. MCNICHOLL
matical system without any reference whatsoever to reality, on
the basis of mental operations, and of notions and axioms
freely chosen in view of a determinate system. Hilbert would
push this formalising tendency even further, basing both logic
and mathematics on pre-logical and pre-mathematical symbols,
and treating mathematics as sheer calculus without any regard
to interpretation. Godel, however, claims to have shown that
the non-contradictory character of a purely formal mathematics
cannot be shown, so that no system would be possible even in
pure mathematics.
Signs of a welcome swing away from this conventionalism
and towards realism are apparent in the views of the Intui-
tionists — Brouwer, Weyl, Heyting — who maintain that mathe-
matics may not be reduced to logic, and is not a purely formal
science, but based upon relations with experience. By intuition
is meant the ability of the mind to grasp the structure of com-
plex situations, and of the process of thought, anterior to all
determinate forms of thought, whether philosophical, logical
or mathematical. For mathematics, the basic intuition is of the
pure relationship of serial order, from which the primary
notions may be derived by a process of construction.
In philosophy proper, the most decisive influence today is
that of Phenomenology , and it is noteworthy that Husserl was
led to philosophy from his study of the foundations of arith-
metic, in an attempt to combat psychologism. His notion of
science is far closer to the traditional one than that of most
of his contemporaries, although it remains to some extent
formalistic; but an essential difference is that, for him, science
must abstract completely from the real world, and be grounded
upon an immediate intuition of ideal essences within our own
subjective consciousness, and the method, in philosophy at
least, must be descriptive and analytic. Undue emphasis on
the constructive activity of the mind in determining the sig-
nification of the contents of consciousness led Husserl towards
idealism; but Scheler opened up new vistas for a realistic phe-
nomenology by upholding an affective intuition which reveals
the world of values. Hartmann, while developing the realism of
THE CHALLENGE TO THE TRADITIONAL IDEAL OF SCIENCE 461
Scheler, strongly affirmed the aporetic character of reality.
Thought points beyond the known to the transintelligible, to
the irrational; we have no right to regard the universe as a
cosmos, rational in its essence, but, on the contrary, it must be
admitted to be, for us at least, deeply irrational.
Among many of the Existentialists we find, although for dif-
ferent motives, this theme of the irrationality of the universe,
presented in its extreme form — Sartre, Camus — as a nauseating
absurdity; a dramatic expression of such sentiments may be
found not only in the plays of Sartre, but in Beckett's Waiting
for Godot. Not all Existentialists would deny that the universe
is a cosmos, but they are at one in their opposition to abstract
types of thought, and in rejecting the traditional notion of
science as altogether unfitted for philosophy. Instead of the
cold intellectual approach to reality, they favor the way of
inner, lived experience, as much affective as cognitive, for this
alone can grasp the individual in his reality and uniqueness;
and they see philosophy as obliging him who engages in it to
commit himself by his free choice and fully responsible decision
to a genuine and authentic form of existence, by which he can
create his own essential being. Although this philosophy is
centered on man, yet many of the Existentialists see the human
consciousness as open towards being, and thus prepare the way
for a return to metaphysics; this is particularly true of Hei-
degger, Marcel, and Lavelle, who cannot be fully characterised
as an existentialist.
Within the Catholic world, there are indications that several
philosophers no longer regard the traditional notion of phi-
losophy as adequate, or suited to the needs of modern man.
This is most evident in such Catholic Existentialists as Marcel
and Lavelle; but before them, Blondel envisaged a philosophy
of the concrete, concerned with the individual, and centered
on the notion of action. Following the lead of Gratry and
Olle-Laprune, he conceived philosophy in the Platonic fashion
as the response of the whole man, who should philosophize with
his whole soul, to his actual situation, of which his faith is an
essential element. Gilson agrees with his notion of philosophy
4(i2 AMBROSE J. MCNICHOLL
as being intrinsically incomplete and insufficient, unless per-
fected by faith as Christian philosophy. Others, especially in
Italy and France, turn for inspiration to the Augustinian and
Platonic tradition of Christian antiquity, and are somewhat
skeptical of the dialectical and scientific approach of the Aristo-
telian mind as continued, for instance, in Thomism. A rather
similar mentality seems to show itself in those who advocate
the removal of logic and metaphysics from the academic course
of philosophy, on the ground that the students' natural logic
and rudimentary metaphysics are sufficient to enable them to
devote themselves to the study of ethics and theology.
Summing up the results of this scanty survey of some of the
more recent trends of thought, in their relation to the problem
of scientific knowledge, it appears that for the Physicalists and
Analysts, the only knowledge worthy to be called scientific is
either physical science, or logic, as including the analysis of
linguistic forms. This is, of course, to deny that philosophy, as
traditionally conceived, is a science, and to identify science as
such, uni vocally with one of its particular forms. More moder-
ate positions, however, are now finding favor among some of
the Analysts, who admit the relevance of metaphysical and
ethical investigations.
The phenomenological school would seem, at first, to be a
form of rigid intellectualism, and to defend the traditional idea
of scientific knowledge; but the more significant Phenomen-
ologists today have been concerned to employ the method given
them by Husserl to investigate the world of existence, of values,
of common human experience, or of the subconscious. In such
regions, intuitive rather than scientific knowledge is sought,
especially since it deals with what is so very contingent and
individual.
Other philosophical trends, such as Existentialism, Histori-
cism, Vitalism and the like, evidence a general devaluation of
intellect at the expense of the other faculties, and a rejection of
the greco-mathematical ideal of knowledge as not adapted to
life and as remote from actuality. The world of nature is
abandoned to the scientist; metaphysics, when not confused
THE CHALLENGE TO THE TRADITIONAL IDEAL OF SCIENCE 463
with idealism, is regarded as hollow abstractism; and philoso-
phy is centered on man, being given the name and character of
humanism. What draws the attention of these philosophers in
man is not the relatively clear life of reason, but the irrational,
subconscious, instinctive and primitive life, the lived experience
of man as he actually is situated in a universe that appears to
be brutal and incoherent. The highest form of philosophy,
metaphysics, is not to be thought of as an objective and im-
personal investigation into the nature of being as such, but as
an intimate and personal reflection welling up from the depths
of one's individual experience, in the face of one's real situation
in the world, about such problems as death, freedom, responsi-
bility, and such states as dread and failure.
Generally speaking, philosophers today seem to be pre-
occupied with the pre-rational, the pre-conscious, the ante-
predicative aspects of immediate experience. Principles hitherto
regarded as self-evident are no longer conceded to be such;
reason cannot be assumed to be self-transparent, for thought
is not pure, abstract, self-sufficient, but conditioned by the
human structure and by lived experience. One must note, how-
ever, that the pre-rational is not the same as the irrational, the
world of blind emotion and ignorance. It is the Lebenswelt,
that which is lived before all reflection; it is not opposed to
reflection, but is its source and foundation. It comprises the
whole man, his affectivity and impressions as well as his
thought, his stored-up experiences and instinctive drives; for
this is the pre-rational soil of all mental growth. Philosophy
today reduces thought to this domain; psychoanalysis reduces
activity to it; and much of the art of today traces its inspira-
tion to it, and seeks to express it. In effect, we witness the
general discredit of rationalism, the questioning of all received
norms, the challenging of all received traditions, and the object-
ing to all that purports to be self-evident.
Modern man seems to be in search of a new type of philoso-
phy, which will be essentially a humanism, with a new object:
the individual, in his actual life, in its pre-rational roots; with
new powers: the whole soul of man, with all its powers as
464 AMBROSE J. MCNICHOLL
engaged in lived experience; with a new method: a form of
description that will invite to reflection and awaken experience;
and a new aim: to bring man to a decisive option, by which he
may freely and with full responsibility accept himself and his
situation, and so begin to exist.
If, as may appear to many, it is an exaggeration to claim
that this attitude is representative of modern man, one might
take as typical, between the extremes of Analysis and Existen-
tialism, of Physicalism and Phenomenology, the position of
Bergson, for whom the knowledge characteristic of the intellect
is deteraiinistic science, whereas reality, as creative becoming,
can be grasped only by intuition. He sees the history of philoso-
phy as a conflict between the Greek conception, which would
subordinate the flux of reality to the immobility of rigid ideas,
and the more human and vital attempts to pierce by way of
intuition to that duration which is the inner reality of things.
And we should not forget that in Heidegger Existentialism and
Phenomenology meet in an attempt to rejoin the insights of
the pre-Socratics in a doctrine of being which rests on an intui-
tion whose term is existence precisely as temporal. If philoso-
phy is still a science, it is, for such authors as these, a quite
different form of knowledge from that which Aristotle and his
followers have regarded as scientific.
Tasks for Thomists
It might seem, at first sight, that there is little in common
between the traditional notion of science and philosophy and
these modem conceptions; yet we can indicate several points
of contact between modern theories and the philosophia peren-
nis. If the attention of many philosophers today is drawn
towards the sphere of the pre-rational, this does not imply irra-
tionalism, for their aim is, particularly in the case of the Phe-
nomenologists, to discover meaning and rationality in that
neglected field of research. The notion of intentionality has
been re-introduced into the realm of consciousness, and norm-
ally this is recognised to imply that consciousness is open to-
wards being, thus freeing philosophy from the subjectivism that
THE CHALLENGE TO THE TRADITIONAL IDEAL OF SCIENCE 465
has SO long held it captive, and inspiring a revival of meta-
physical thinking. This applied even to those who profess the
way of subjectivity, since the reflective grasp of oneself ex-
tends to one's situation, which includes others, both persons
and things, and leads to the affirmation of inter- subjectivity
and of a real pluralism. The more significant trends in recent
philosophy are notable for their insistence on the distinction of
philosophy, and especially metaphysics, from scientific modes
of thought, and on its autonomy as the most radical discipline;
and these same philosophical movements devote themselves
untiringly to the defense of values, particularly such basic
human values as personality, freedom, responsibility, and fre-
quently also of art, religion and morality. In general, one may
say that today there is an intellectual climate more favorable
to the renewal of metaphysics than at any time during the
last hundred years.
This situation is encouraging for the Thomist, but it implies
a responsibility on his part to be aware of these significant
developments, and to see the possible points of contact between
his and outside schools of thought, as well as to discern the
sources of confusion and misunderstanding that prevent a
proper appreciation of his own position.
With regard to modern criticisms of his notion of philosophy
as a science, he can point out that much is now expected of
philosophy that properly pertains to religion, since religion has
ceased for so many to be a vital force. What many now seek,
in the name of philosophy, is really rather a Weltanschauung,
a general, all-embracing outlook on life, in which philosophy,
faith, convictions, traditions, affective leanings are fused to-
gether in a vital whole that is only partly rational. There is a
Christian Weltanschhuung, which includes a philosophy which
may therefore be called Christian without in any way denying
its intrinsic autonomy, and which can accept the new insights
and modes of investigation of other philosophies. Seen in this
way, much of what is valuable in modern philosophy appears
to be complementary rather than opposed to the Thomistic
synthesis, whose material object is extended to cover regions
466 AMBROSE J. MCNICHOLL
that have been neglected, and for which new methods of
investigation are necessary. The rational nucleus of this global
and vital vision of reality is philosophy, seen as a strict science.
Philosophy is indeed insufficient for man to live by, but that
means that it is imperfect, not as science, but as human. As a
science, philosophy must be abstract, speculative, and to some
extent impersonal; and it is above all by means of metaphysics
that religion and faith can enter as vital and coherent elements
into the Christian Weltanschauung. The way of subjectivity
can be accepted as an excellent propedeutic to our ontology,
and the phenomenological method finds ample scope for appli-
cation in the new fields opened up by such reflexive self-
consciousness, while Analysis shows how we need to demand
greater rigour in our modes of thought and expression.
As the intellect is under fire from so many sides, one must
stress its power to know the singular, distinguishing between
abstract knowledge, and knowledge of the abstract, and to grasp
existence, thus insisting on the role of judgment as distinct
from merely conceptual thought. And far greater attention
should be paid to pre-conceptual, or at least pre-logical, modes
of thought such as are at work in the various forms of con-
natural knowledge, for instance, in art and morality. If we
rightly insist on the analogical nature of science, we must
resist the attempt to identify intellect as such with any one
form of its activity; this has been perhaps the most fruitful
source of misunderstandings in modern philosophy. The per-
nicious process of univocation is active when Descartes identi-
fies intellect with mathematical reason, when Idealism identifies
it with logical reason, when Bergson conceives it as the instru-
ment of homo faber, or when Husserl conceives it as essentially
the faculty of intuition. It is the same tendency which leads
so many to identify science as such with one of its particular
forms.
The analogical character of science depends, fundamentally,
on the analogy of being, just as the doctrine of science, or
epistemology, pertains to the critical function of metaphysics.
Without a sane and solid metaphysics, no satisfactory and co-
THE CHALLENGE TO THE TRADITIONAL IDEAL OF SCIENCE 467
herent doctrine of science is possible; and metaphysics is, in
essence, a scientific elaboration of our natural insight into the
nature and properties of being. If we wish to further the resto-
ration of metaphysics, and by the aid of that supreme science
to defend the proper hierarchy of the sciences and to indicate
their nature and extent, we must emphasize the difference be-
tween the process of generalization, by which the logical con-
cept of being is obtained, and the genuinely metaphysical
process, quite distinct from ordinary abstraction, by which the
full and rich ontological content of being is grasped. To see
being, grasped in this way, as the primary object of all our
thought, and the source of the intelligibility of all that we can
know, allows us to distinguish and to order the various forms
of knowing of which we are capable, while preserving their
specifically distinct natures and procedures, all realising, in
different ways, the common analogical notion of science.
The contemporary Thomist should be attentive to trends in
modern science that recall the traditional notion, and to those
movements in modem philosophy that defend the autonomy
and necessity of metaphysics. He can find much in such ten-
dencies that may aid him in his efforts to re-build and make
acceptable the grandiose medieval synthesis; and he is admir-
ably equipped to perceive where so many theories fail, or
adverse criticisms miss the mark. With regard to the problem
of science, he notes that the traditional notion is attached both
on the side of its principles and of its factual basis. The exist-
ence of universally valid principles is questioned both by the
Formalists and the Relativists; on the factual side we find a
reluctance to grant more than statistic probability. Formalism
and relativism can be adequately met only by showing how all
our knowledge and all principles are grounded on the knowl-
edge of being, and share in the objectivity and certainty of such
knowledge. In this connection one might use to great advan-
tage the concrete approaches to being characteristic of the
Existentialists, the eidetic intuition of the Phenomenologists,
and join hands with the mathematical Intuitionists who seek to
trace out the order in which our primitive mathematical con-
468 AMBROSE J. MCNICHOLL
cepts are developed. In general, the radical investigations into
the foundations of the sciences, so widely pursued today, suffer
from the fact that they are more scientific than metaphysical,
and their completion, by integration into a metaphysical expo-
sition of the genesis of fundamental concepts and principles, in
relation both to the concept of being and to the origins of
knowledge in sensible experience, would both benefit the sci-
ences, and perhaps lead the scientist to appreciate the peculiar
and fundamental function of metaphysics. If the power of the
intellect to see things as beings is granted, and the radical value
of such knowledge admitted, it would not be too difficult to
drive home the distinction, on the factual side of scientific
knowledge, between the level of sense perception, or phe-
nomena, ruled by change, and the level of essential natures
and relationships, which provide a stable basis for the inter-
pretation of change.
Metaphysics was the vital link which made possible the great
medieval synthesis between philosophy and theology; the mod-
em attempt to effect a similar synthesis between philosophy
and science by means of mathematics has led to the dissolution
of mathematics into a conventional axiomatics, and to the
lamentable divorce between philosophy and science. Only the
restoration of a metaphysics securely centered on being, and
fully aware of its existential implications, can finally heal this
unfortunate breach. And for the modern scientist, the way
back to such an integrated synthesis may well be through a
philosophy of nature which interprets the phenomena of change,
with which the special sciences deal, in the light of the prin-
ciples it has received from metaphysics. The philosophy of
nature is the means by which the insights of the metaphysician
can be deepened and extended, by attention to the ever new
aspects constantly being revealed by the striking progress of
the natural sciences in a universe that more and more takes on
the appearance of a cosmos, and by which the certainty and
objectivity which metaphysics alone can guarantee may be
shared and communicated to the sciences.
Ambrose J. McNicholl, O. P.
Angelicum, Rome.
A SOCIAL SCIENCE FOUNDED ON A UNIFIED
NATURAL SCIENCE
c*o
The Social Sciences are Founded on Natural Science
IT is common enough to compare the social sciences un-
favorably with natural science. Sometimes it is the social
conservative who disparages the " claims of the social sci-
ences," because he believes that social scientists tend to be too
liberal. Sometimes it is the natural scientist who is appalled
that the vague and tenuous theories, the sketchy statistics,
the public opinion polls of social sciences should be compared
with his beautiful equations so exactly verified in the neat
precincts of his laboratory. Sometimes it is the man-in-the-
street who contrasts the marvelous inventions given us by
natural science with the feeble attempts of social scientists to
predict or ameliorate our social crises.
What these critics do not realize is that historically the social
sciences arose precisely because man's knowledge of society
contrasted so painfully with his increasing exact knowledge of
nature.^
The social sciences, however, depend on natural science for
much more than an inspiration or an example of method. The
study of human behavior in society presupposes a sound under-
standing of the nature of man. This is the work of psychology.
Psychology in turn makes use of all the achievements of
physics, chemistry and biology both to understand man's own
structure and the environment in which he lives.
To be sure, this dependence of the social sciences on natural
^ See Simon Deploige, The Conflict between Ethics and Sociology, trans, by
C. C. Miltner C. S. C. (St. Louis: Herder, 1938). Alvin Boskoff, "From Social
Thought to Sociological Theory," in Howard Becker and Alvin BoskofT, eds.,
Modem Sociological Theory in Continuity and Change (New York: Dryden Press,
1957) , pp. 3-34 and J. Leclercq, Introduction a la Sociologie (Louvain: Nau-
welaer^s ed. nouv., 1959) , Chap. III-IV, pp. 39-74.
469
470 BENEDICT M. ASHLEY
science ought not to be exaggerated. Ordinarily the social
scientist cannot himself be an expert in natural science, nor
does he have to sit idly waiting for a perfect account of man
before he can begin to collect his own data, or develop his own
conceptual systems. At any given moment there may be psy-
chological information of which the social sciences do not yet
have use, and there may be sociological findings which psy-
chologists cannot yet explain.
Are the social sciences a branch of 'psychology?
Since this partial dependence of the social sciences upon
biology and psychology is so obvious, we might well inquire
whether the social sciences ought not to be regarded simply as
a branch of natural science, namely as one of the fields of
psychology. Comte long ago thought of sociology as the cul-
minating natural science, including physics, chemistry, and
biology as its elements. Today more and more the term " be-
havioral sciences " is becoming popular.
Indeed psychologists in attempting to define their own field
commonly state that social psychology is an intermediate dis-
cipline connecting psychology and sociology. Klineberg says:
"Psychology has been defined as the scientific study of the
activities of the individual. Social psychology may be defined
as the scientific study of the activities of the individual as in-
fluenced by other individuals." ^ I am afraid, however, that
definitions of this type hardly satisfy the requirements of logic
or of a rigorous philosophy of science.
" 0. Klineberg, Social Psychology (New York: Henry Holt, 2nd ed. 1954) p. 3.
The difficulty is stated by Kimball Young and Linton Freeman, " The conception
of interaction has always been regarded as central to social psychology as well
as sociology. From birth on, the survival of the human being depends on the
intercession of another individual, normally his mother or mother-surrogate. As
he grows up, he lives in social interaction with other members of his family and
later with individuals in other primary associations; finally, he moves into the
world of specialized secondary and segmentalized groups. Thus from birth on he
is part and parcel of a series of interconnected, interactional units, the model of
which is the dyadic parent-child, child-child, or adult relationship '' (" Social Psy-
chology and Sociology," in Becker and Boskoff, op. cit., p. 550) .
SOCIAL SCIENCE FOUNDED ON A UNIFIED NATURAL SCIENCE 471
Is it safe to say that psychology studies the individual, social
science studies society, and social psychology studies the indi-
vidual in society? Of the many episteraological difficulties in
modern science which had their origin in the dualism of
Descartes, not the least is the notion that psychology deals
only with the individual as a conscious self. What psychologist
today would accept such a definition of his field? How can
there possibly be a psychology of the individual in isolation
from his social behavior and environment? Man lives and
develops psychologically only as a social animal, in family and
society. Psychology, therefore, must be a social psychology
to be a science at all.
A second difficulty of a more technical but very fundamental
character is raised by definitions of this type. It is a common
error to classify sciences merely according to their subject
matter. By such a procedure every field can be divided and
subdivided into countless new disciplines merely by the ad-
vance of science from general to detailed questions. To proceed
in this way is to make the number of sciences equal to the
number of objects in the universe — a sort of classification which
may serve the purpose of indexing, but which does not show the
formal or axiomatic structure of sciences. Is organic chemistry
in any significant sense a different science from inorganic
chemistry? If so, then must the chemistry of proteins be con-
sidered a different science from that of carbohydrates and so on?
The classification of the sciences to be meaningful must not
be based on a mere difference of subject matter, or levels of
generality and particularity, but on a difference of point-of-
view, of basic principles, and of the methodology consequent
on point-of-view and principles. There must be, as the logicians
say, a difference of formal object.^
To mark off the social sciences, therefore, as dealing with
the more social aspects of human behavior does not separate
it in any formal sense from psychology, nor from the rest of
" See W. H. Kane, " Abstraction and the Distinction of the Sciences," The
Thoviist, XVII (1954), 43-68.
472 BENEDICT M. ASHLEY
natural science of which psychology itself is only a material
part. Some social scientists do in fact consider their discipline
simply a branch of psychology, and their position is at least
clear and consistent.
Those who do not like to go this far, nevertheless find it
difficult to defend their hesitation. Thus the distinguished
social psychologist, Gordon W. Allport writes:
No sharp boundaries demarcate social psychology from other
social sciences. It overlaps political and economic science, cultural
anthropology, and in many respects is indistinguishable from gen-
eral psychology. ... In spite of this apparent lack of autonomy,
social psychology has its own core of theory and data and its own
special viewpoint. Its focus of interest is upon the social nature
of the individual person. By contrast, political science, sociology,
and cultural anthropology take as their starting points the political,
social, or cultural systems in which an individual person lives.
It is obvious that a complete science of social relations, as Parson
and Shils point out, will embrace both the personality system and
the many-sided social sj^stems.
With few exceptions, social psychologists regard their discipline
as an attempt to understand and explain how the thought, feeling
and behaviour of individuals are influenced by the actuxil, imagined,
or implied presence of other human beings^
It is certainly very difficult to see why a study of the ways in
which human behavior is influenced by the presence of other
human beings is not the task of the science of pure psychology.
The Orientation of Social Theory
Before we accept this clear but rather radical conclusion, let
us ask ourselves what would happen to the actual practice
of social research if sociology were to be treated rigorously as a
branch of psychology.
Formerly there was a marked rift between European and
American sociology over the question of the relative importance
of theory and of empirical research. Today this rift has opened
* In Handbook of Social Psychology, Gardiner Lindzey, ed., (Reading, Mass.:
Addison- Wesley, 1954), p. 3.
SOCIAL SCIENCE FOUNDED ON A UNIFIED NATURAL SCIENCE 473
wide within American social thought itself. Of course all social
scientists admit that both elements are important, but some
anxiously emphasize the building of conceptual systems at a
high level of abstraction, others an intense application to
empirical description and analysis. In practice this turns out
not merely to be a difference in emphasis, but even one of
direction, of fundamental orientation.^
It is significant that for the most part those who are especi-
ally interested in psychology tend to favor a theory-oriented
social science. While the other group (still probably the ma-
jority in American sociology) are much more concerned with
social problems, with the analysis and diagnosis of concrete his-
torical situations, leading to the definition of alternatives for
decision by policy-makers.*^
If we are to accept the notion that the social sciences are a
° See the discussion in A. Rose, Theory and Method in Social Science (University
of Minnesota Press, 1954) pp. 245-255.
" Thus Robert K. Merton in his introduction to Sociology Today: Problems
and Prospects, ed. by himself, Leonard Broom, and Leonard S. Cottrell, Jr. for
the American Sociological Society (New York: Basic Books, 1959) says: " Practi-
cally all the contributors to this book take note of how the division of sociology
into a growing number of specialties has afiected the flow of problems needing
inquiry. In one form, a speciality is seen as affording a strategic site for investi-
gating problems of general import for sociological theory. In another, and perhaps
more frequent, form, general theory is seen as a source of problems that require
solution to advance special fields, such as the sociology of law, cities, race and
ethnic relations, criminology, and mass communications." p. xxix. Charles H. Page
in the same volume discussing the motives which lead students into the field of
sociology shows that for many it is the idea that social sciences aim at social reform.
" This view, fairly widespread in academic faculties and among college students,
draws many of the latter to classes in sociology, where it functions, moreover, to
induce disenchantment when students confront extreme advocacy of a disinterested
science of social life. Here is a problem for teachers, especially for those who fail
to make clear that many sociological scholars of stature conceive of their disci-
pline as scientific, certainly, but nevertheless directly involved in human better-
ment." p. 586. An odd fact is that the most militant positivists among sociologists
are also the most explicit in their assertion of the practical character of sociology,
thus G. A. Lundberg writes, " Positivists do not admit the assumed dichotomy
between the pursuit of science on the one hand and social action on the other.
We contend, on the contrary, that the pursuit of science is the most fundamental
of all social actions." " Contemporary Positivism in Sociology," American Socio-
logical Revieiv, IV (1939) , 42-55, quoted in Becker and Boskoff, op. cit., p. 195.
474 BENEDICT M. ASHLEY
part of psychology, social research must take the same direction
as does natural science of which psychology is a part. Natural
science has for its ultimate goal the proposal and verification of
an embracing theory of the structure and development of the
universe, man included. Natural science begins with concrete,
empirical data. It returns to the concrete for verification. It
has important technological application to concrete problems.
Nevertheless natural science as such is not interested in the
concrete or particular which it treats only as specimens. It is
essentially oriented to pure theory, to universal laws and typical
definitions which apply to natural things considered in ab-
straction from historical circumstances. For the scientist water
is H2O, not a sample taken from a particular river on a par-
ticular date.
If we apply a point-of-view to the social sciences, then we
must treat the detailed analysis and description of particular
social institutions and their historical development as mere
material for induction, not as the proper object of our study.
Does this correspond to the real interests of social scientists?
They do make inductions and generalizations, they do build
general theories and verify them; but does social science stop
there .'^ Is not the real orientation of social science to use these
generalizations as guides in analyzing particular, concrete,
historical situations,? Is not social science interested not only
in what is universal, general and fixed in man as a social animal,
but much more in the institutions which man has created and
the modifications he undergoes through and in these institu-
tions.? Natural science sees theory as the ultimate goal. Social
science sees theory rather as a guide better to understand the
concrete and variable.
A sign of this is to be found in the discomfort which many
experienced social scientists feel at all the current talk about
the building of social theories. They are accused of being
intellectually lazy, but is it not rather that they instinctively
feel the theory-makers are leaving behind the very thing which
SOCIAL SCIENCE FOUNDED ON A UNIFIED NATURAL SCIENCE 475
makes social science interesting in its own right? ^ Another
sign is the notorious fact that the most heroic efforts to arrive
at a theoretical structure in the social sciences have yielded
nothing comparable to that of natural science.
If we grant that the point-of-view of psychology and soci-
ology are essentially different, since they have a different orien-
tation with regard to theory and with regard to the historical
and concrete, then we can easily defend the autonomy of the
social sciences, since they will have their own formal object.
Psychology regards man and his behavior as they are deter-
mined by man's inborn biological structure and by his relation
to his natural environment. The social sciences on the other
hand study this same human being and his behavior not as
innately determined or naturally environed, but as they are
modified through the institutions, customs and artificial en-
vironment which man has himself created. To be brief, psy-
chology deals with man as God and natural forces have made
him, the social sciences deal with man as he has made himself.
Since those patterns of behavior vvhich fall under human
control are ever shifting, since they are strictly historical and
contingent entities, the social sciences are ultimately concerned
not with a universal theory, but with the analysis of what is
essentially historical and existential. They are, as it were, the
scientific refinement and elaboration of human experience, that
gradually accumulated ability to face our own unique situation
in the light of all our previous situations.
The Social Sciences and Value
The perennial problem of whether social science must be
" value-free " takes on a new aspect once it is seen that the
conceptual schemes of social science are not the goal but the
guides by which it is able to penetrate and understand con-
^ Significant in this respect have been the very diverse attitudes of American
sociologists to the social action theory proposed by Talcott Parsons which had
European origins. See Preston Valien and Bonita Valien, " General Sociological
Theories of Current Reference," in Becker and BoskofI, op. cit., pp. 78-92.
476 BENEDICT M. ASHLEY
Crete historical situations. If we select from among the various
notions of " value " which philosophers have proposed, the com-
mon view that " value " concerns the relation of means to end,
then it becomes at once apparent that there is no difficulty
whatsoever in the idea of a scientific study of means/ Cer-
tainly it is possible in an objective and rational fashion to
determine empirically whether or not a proposed means will
probably lead to a stated goal or not. If this were not possible
then the application of natural science to technology would fail.
The real difficulty concerns not the means, but the determin-
ation of the end. In the case of technology this question is
easily answered, the end is the thing or effect to be produced,
and this is a matter of choice lying outside the technology itself.
The doctor does not debate whether the patient should be
healed; that has already been decided by the patient. The
designer of weapons does not decide whether a war is to be
fought; that is the decision of the government. Some, therefore,
regard social science as " social engineering " and argue that it
studies means that would be productive of this or that social
effect, but is not at all concerned with which end is to be
chosen, since this pertains only to policy-makers.
Such a view, however, also threatens the autonomy of social
science, since it would reduce it to a technology. The obvious
fact is that social scientists, no matter how often admonished
by value-free purists, have never been able just to take ends
for granted. They are everlastingly fascinated by the different
ends which individuals, groups and societies seek, and with the
effect such goal-seeking has upon the whole society. Indeed
in countless different ways we find that contemporary social
science is very much concerned to point out that it is the goal
of a society which integrates its culture and behavior, and it
is a disunity of goal that leads to social disintegration.
Some believe that the sociologist has done his part when he
has uncovered the actual goals of social groups and assayed
* See the discussion of the history of this queston in Leo Strauss, Natural Right
and History, New York, 1953.
SOCIAL SCIENCE FOUNDED ON A UNIFIED NATURAL SCIENCE 477
the effectiveness of the means which they have chosen in view
of these goals. The choice of goals is simply an historical phe-
nomenon to be explained, but not to be evaluated. Such a
position ignores one great social fact which has stood the test
of many attacks, namely that certain selected goals tend to
persist through time and space. The infinite historical and
geographical variety of social groups is not without pattern.
Rather there are certain stable goals which a society must
achieve or cease to develop or exist. A society which does not
nourish its members, help provide for the family, help with
protection from destruction, or supply an organized pattern of
activity and a vision of the goal to be socially achieved, or which
does this ineffectively cannot long survive. In recent years
sociologists have argued that a society which does not respect
the dignity and inherent rights of the human person will become
socially rigid, unadaptable and eventually irrational in its
policy.^
Thus an examination of the goals actually sought by social
groups reveals that some have about them a stability and
harmony with the preservation and rational development of
groups and individuals, while others are shifting or socially
disruptive. Goals which are variable can be considered as in-
termediate goals, and hence can be measured like means accord-
ing to whether they are compatible with more fundamental
goals or not.
It is the more stable and permanent goals which have value
for society in themselves, and not merely as means. What is
their origin, and how can they be accurately determined.? I
think that confronted with this question we should not hesi-
tate to affirm that these fundamental goals are not determined
* Cf. William L. Kolb, " The Changing Prominence of Values in Modern
Sociological Theory," Becker and BoskofiP, op. cit. pp. 93-132; David Bidny, " The
Philosophical Presuppositions of Cultural Relativism and Cultural Absolutism,"
in Leo R. Ward, Ethics and the Social Sciences (Notre Dame, 1959), pp. 51-76;
Clyde Kluckhohn, " Values and Value Orientation in the Theory of Action," in
Talcott Parsons and E. A. Shils, Toward a General Theory of Action (Cambridge,
Mass.: Harvard U. Press, 1952), pp. 388-433.
478 BENEDICT M. ASHLEY
by custom, or historical and social circumstances, but by the
psychological and biological structure of man and his relation
to the great natural factors of his environment. Thus our need
for the family is rooted in the biological and psychological
character of the child, and again the need of each individual for
a certain freedom of life is rooted in his individual character-
istics and personal power of deliberate choice.
Thus two facts emerge: First, the psychological foundation
of the social sciences provides them with certain stable goals
of human behavior which are valuable in themselves and which
cannot be eradicated or fundamentally altered by social insti-
tutions or circumstances. They are stable values which can be
objectively established by the ordinary methods of biology
and psychology. The social scientist in this way has criteria by
which to evaluate other variable intermediate goals and means.
" Democracy," " prosperity," " peace " can be evaluated in a
given society by finding out whether such intermediate goals
really contribute to the attainment of the more stable ones.
" Democracy " may serve to promote ultimate biological and
psychological values in one society at one period of history, but
not in another society or at a different time. Thus both sub-
ordinate ends and means in social life can be scientifically
evaluated by the social scientist if he accepts from natural
science certain fixed values as criteria.
Two difficulties can be raised against this contention, al-
though both appear somewhat outmoded in light of develop-
ments in contemporary natural science. Indeed they are sur-
vivals in the social sciences of influences from the nineteenth
century views of natural scientists.
The first difficulty is that a science of social values is im-
possible because it implies that human beings can make free
choices of means to ends, and free choice destroys the determin-
ism required for any scientific theory." Surely it is realized
^^ Sociologists today, however, speak very modestly about their actual ability to
predict. Cf. for example the discussion in Robert F. Bales, " Small-Group Theory
and Research," Merton, Broom, Cottrell, op. cit., pp. 293-305. After admitting
that " The nearest thing to this kind of publicly exposed, practical, naturalistic
SOCIAL SCIENCE FOUNDED ON A UNIFIED NATURAL SCIENCE 479
today that indeterminism does not make a science impossible
as long as it is not absolute. In physics we get along very well
admitting that the universe is permeated by chance, as long
as we admit that not all of its events are pure chance. Simi-
larly social science does not have to insist that all human be-
havior is rigidly determined in order to scrutinize it scientifi-
cally. It suffices that human behavior exhibit some regularity
and pattern. This relative determinism is sufficiently guaran-
teed by the stability of the human biological and psychological
structure and its fixed goals. In practice both psychologist and
social scientist actually observe a distinction between two kinds
of human behavior. One is unconscious and automatic, or
conscious but compulsive and instinctual, or explicable by cus-
tom and habit. Another is deliberate, conscious, creative, per-
sonal and responsible. The latter is peculiarly human, the
former common to animals. It is this second type of human
behavior which is most interesting to the social scientist since
from it originate the major social institutions and the major
social changes. It is free activity. To explain how it is possible
is a psychological, not a sociological problem, but there is no
need to explain it away in order to save the possibility of a
science of society.
The second difficulty is that if we say natural science is able
to determine goals and values, then we are making science
" teleological," a consequence which many scientists would
deplore. An adequate reply to this would have to be an ex-
tensive one. Suffice it here to point out that " teleology " is an
ambiguous term. If for " teleology " we read " functionalism,"
prediction (i. e. " prediction about the course of natural events," not about a highly
controlled laboratory event) I can think of in the social sciences is the prediction
of elections by poll," Bales goes on to argue that nevertheless naturalistic pre-
diction remains the goal of social science. " Of course, the goal that I have here
called naturalistic prediction is a very ambitious and idealistic one. But we need
a vantage point from which we can successfully put into perspective the problems
of theory and research of a whole scientific field. The goal we need to visualize
should serve not only as an immediately appealing stimulus to the beginning of
work but also as an exacting criterion of scientific progress and an indicator
of critical problems for further work. To my mind, nothing less than the goal of
naturalistic prediction really answers these needs." p. 295, and p. 305.
480 BENEDICT M. ASHLEY
and mean by it that biology can and must analyse the func-
tional relation between the parts of the organism and the whole
and the integration of their activity in the preservation and
development of the organism, who can deny that functionalism
is accepted in contemporary science and has proved extremely
successful? It is only such functional analysis which is required
for a biologist or psychologist to consider the stable goals of
man.^^
A psychology adequate to serve as the basis for the social
sciences cannot be, however, a study of man based on a narrow
methodology. The picture of man given by behavioristic, psy-
choanalytic, or purely phenomenological methods is too incom-
plete. Nor will a merely eclectic methodology serve the pur-
pose. What is required is a psychology which makes use of all
known methods of obtaining and analyzing evidence under the
control of basic principles so rooted in the broad facts of ex-
perience that they can withstand searching philosophical criti-
cism. There must be a unified psychology of man in which the
dichotomy between the philosophical-humanistic and the sci-
entific view of man is overcome.^-
Since man is not a mere mind nor a Platonic soul but an
organism forming a unit in the system of natural bodies, such a
unified psychology presupposes a unified physical science of
the sort which other contributors to this volume are proposing.
The Problems to he Studied by a Social Science Founded
on Natural Science
What would be the outline of a social science oriented in
this manner and founded on a unified psychology.? It would
^^ See my paper " Research into the intrinsic final causes of physical things,"
Proceedings of the American Catholic Philosophical Association, XXVI (1952) ,
185-194 in which I attempted to show that final causality is just as empirically
observable as efficient causality, since they are correlative to each other. Those
who reject teleology in the Aristotelian sense must also accept a purely positivistic
view of all causality.
^^ See the views of psychologists who are working in this direction in Magda B.
Arnold and John A. Gasson, The Human Person: An Approach to an Integral
Theory of Personality (New York: Ronald Press, 1954) .
SOCIAL SCIENCE FOUNDED ON A UNIFIED NATURAL SCIENCE 481
begin by gathering from psychology and the rest of natural sci-
ence a sound description of man as he is a stable organism in
a generally stable environment striving after certain general
goals, not neglecting, however, data on individual and racial
differences and possible evolutionary processes.
On this borrowed foundation it would then pursue its own
researches, oriented not only to general theory, but toward
application of this theory to concrete societies and events. Its
first proper task would be to determine and classify inter-
mediate goals and to evaluate them in terms of the stable
goals established by psychology and biology. Also it would
study the general types of habit and behavior which function
as means to such intermediate and ultimate goals. At this
point the existence of certain universal social forms would be-
come evident and intelligible. In particular it would become
apparent that the study of human behavior must give special
consideration to the way in which the individual as an organic
unit has a certain control over his own behavior, how the family
is required by the interdependence of such units and how it has
its own type of social control, and finally how the limitations
of the family make necessary some larger total society with its
own social control and with the power to supply the needs of
all its members.
Thus besides a general study of the roots of human behavior
there must be a three-fold sociology of the individual, the
family, and the total society as each has a different natural
origin and each its own mode of control. These are independent
of each other in some measure and yet also interrelated so that
the individual must be seen in his familial role, and the family
in its social role.
The sociology of the total society would deal with the soci-
ology of knowledge, of religion and of professional groups, the
sociology of government (political science) , and the sociology
of economic groups. These sets of problems would not be
separate disciplines but would be unified by the fact that all
482 BENEDICT M. ASHLEY
deal with the choice of diverse types of means to one common
end, the good Hfe of the total society.
Economics would be instrumental to this three-fold sociology.
Economics is not the same thing as a sociology of economic
life, since it deals not with human behavior as such, but with an
essentially technological problem, the most efficient employ-
ment of the material resources of a society.
The general theory or conceptual schemes of the social sci-
ence rests quite directly on those of natural science, since they
are rooted in the description of abstract man. Since, however,
the orientation of the social sciences is to the concrete, all this
constitutes only the guiding principles of social analysis. These
schemes of ends and means must be applied to the study of
actual institutions and experiences.
Here it is that social science has needed to develop its owti
tool-kit. The infinity of historical facts and descriptions has to
be reduced to manageable order. The general principles or
conceptual schemes are guides in this process, but the concrete
can never be deduced from the general, it must be directly
observed in its unique character.
A multitude of concrete experiences must by a variety of
devices be reduced to an ordered experience, a unified and
formalized premise with which we can reason. Before modem
times the chief failure of social thought was its dependence on
merely fortuitous experiences, on impressions and stereotypes.
The great achievement of modern social science is that it has
developed techniques of critical history and description. Gen-
eralizations based on such critically analyzed data are not,
however, to be compared with those of natural science. Since
the social sciences refuse to abstract from the concrete his-
torical circumstances they never can arrive at the certitude of
clarity possible in the purely theoretical sciences. The fair test
of their success is rather to ask if these techniques provide us
with a better and more objective experience than is furnished
by mere common sense.
SOCIAL SCIENCE FOUNDED ON A UNIFIED NATURAL SCIENCE 483
Relation of social science to other disciplines
If we conceive social science in the manner just outlined we
maintain its autonomy and unique point-of-view, we thoroughly
justify both its tendency to seek a theoretical foundation and
its innate orientation to the analysis of concrete historical insti-
tutions, and we command its search to develop its own special
techniques. What is even more interesting is that by giving it
a clearly defined autonomy we remove the tensions which have
arisen between it and other disciplines.
First of all, as has been emphasized, the social sciences are
seen to have a vital relation to natural science, yet are not a
mere part of natural science, nor to be judged by the same
standards. Next we can close the great gap which separates
modern social thought from the ancient social thought still
so influential in our culture. Until recent times social thinkers
spoke of the " moral sciences." Commonly they distinguished
three, the ethics of the individual, the ethics of the family, and
politics or the ethics of society. These were called " special
ethics," and the theoretical foundation which all three rested
was called " general ethics." These sciences were evaluative,
considering the relation of ends to means. Furthermore they
were founded on the concept of natural law, that is, that certain
goals are determined for human conduct by human nature itself,
while others are instituted by human choice and are to be
evaluated by their conformity as means to these fixed goals.
Our analysis shows that this conception is essentially the same
as that toward which the social sciences as we now know them
tend to gravitate as they gain their independence from natural
science.
The break between the older and newer conception was due
to the fact that the ancient social thinkers had not developed
the techniques necessary to bring their general theory into con-
tact \vith historical description and experience .^^ It is signifi-
' ^ The various attempts of Catholic sociologists to distinguish the social sciences
from the moral sciences (for which see P. H. Furfey, The Scope and Method of
Sociology (New York 1953) . Sister Miriam Lynch, O. S. U., " Communication be-
484 BENEDICT M. ASHLEY
cant that the Greeks developed considerable historical and
sociological research which if it had been carried on would have
closed the gap. In medieval and Renaissance times the tran-
sitional social situation led moral casuists to initiate similar
researches.
Once we have grasped the special character of the social
sciences, their relation to metaphysics and theology also be-
comes clearer, A sound metaphysics recognizes about itself
that although it may serve to clarify the nature of social science
and some of its basic concepts, such as that of value, it can
never replace the study of concrete social institutions carried
on by social science. Metaphysical methods are not adequate
for the study of the concrete, and it was precisely the error of
the Hegelians and of Marx to make this illegitimate leap from
metaphysics to history.
Theology, on the other hand, does concern itself with the
same problems as the social sciences even down to the histori-
cal particular, but it views them from a wholly different per-
spective. The theologian accepts from social science all its
established conclusions and uses them as tools in his own ex-
ploration of reality, with the conviction that well-established
scientific truth will be entirely compatible with supernatural
truth. On the other hand both in social science and in theology
there are many views which are only probable and provisional.
As regards these the sociologist and the theologian can engage
in fruitful discussion, each casting light on the phenomena from
his own point-of-view. This discussion stimulates research in
both fields, and the expert in either field is not obliged to
tween Philosophers and Sociologists," American Catholic Sociological Review, XIX
(1958) , 290-309 and Herbert Johnston, " The Social and Moral Sciences," in Ward,
op. cit., pp. 452-463 are parallel to the attempts to distinguish the philosophy of
nature from modern natural science. The earlier writers tried to make the distinc-
tion in terms of " ultimate " and " secondary causes." More recently it is in terms
of " philosophical " and " empiriological " or " constructural " modes of knowing.
But neither of these criteria can form the basis for an essential division of the
sciences. Only metaphysics deals with ultimate causes, and every science employs
both "philosophical" i.e., demonstrative knowledge and constructural or empirio-
logical knowledge.
SOCIAL SCIENCE FOUNDED ON A UNIFIED NATURAL SCIENCE 485
incorporate into his own science what is not estabHshed by its
own methods.
Sociology can be of great ser\ace to theology. According to
theology the ultimate work of God in the universe is the
Church, a society which is a spiritual body having Christ Him-
self as its head. History, viewed theologically, is the drama of
the institution of this society by Christ and of its struggle to
complete His mission. The Church as it now exists is a society
developing in concrete circumstances. We as Christians and
members of that society have to play our role in this present
moment amidst these present conditions. Revelation shows
us the nature of the Church and its history in outline, but to
fill out this outline in thought and in action requires a pro-
found analysis of our times, its forces and institutions, its social
trends. From the life of the single parish to the life of the
Church throughout the world we must see the life of the Church
as it really is, studying it through the eyes both of faith and of
science, with a vision that humbly accepts the facts, unafraid,
since ultimate victory is assured.
This realistic Christian vision is possible today only if we
make full use of the social sciences and of the natural science
on which they are securely founded.
Benedict M. Ashley, O. P.
Dominican House of Studies
River Forest, Illinois
THE ROLE OF SCIENCE IN LIBERAL
EDUCATION
e«9
THE dominance of scientific progress in our age of satel-
lites and space ships is forcing modern educators to
reconsider some of their basic tenets. Modern school
children grow up in a world whose headlines, literature and
even toys are couched in the technicalities of this advance. It
is clear that science must become a more integral part of our
educational system. While federal legislation and scientific
organizations are providing the impetus for this change, edu-
cators, in particular liberal educators, are questioning the conse-
quence. Progress would seem to demand a highly specialized
science curriculum, but history warns against an inbreeding
that would lead to barren technology. Modern society certainly
requires engineers, technologists and specialists, but we must
not forget that the primary end of education is to enable the
individual to lead a full life as a human being.
Considering the modern trend, educators are asking, What
will the curriculum of the future be like.? Will it lead to a
greater disparity between the humanities and scientific studies,?
Many fear the potential of this present trend to divide all
human knowledge into ' science ' and ' non-science,' pitting the
objective and real against the subjective and imaginary. In
particular, what will be the consequences for Catholic Educa-
tion.? Here the traditional strain between the arts and sciences
has always been more intensely felt. In Catholic Education
science has been somewhat of a step-child, constantly upsetting
the schedule by demanding additional time, and the budget by
insisting on additional equipment. Perhaps — to express one
attitude, science is too expensive in time and equipment, and
consequently, ought to be deleted from our program at least at
the level of higher education.
486
THE ROLE OF SCIENCE IN LIBERAL EDUCATION 487
Can Catholic Education be truly Catholic and at the same
time non-scientific? Or must a curriculum based on Catholic
philosophy make the natural sciences an integral part of the
curriculum, and not just an appendage attached because every-
one else has them? In an allocution to scientists, philosophers
and educators. Pope Pius XII expressed his conviction that a
knowledge of science is fundamental to education. Speaking to
the Fourth International Thomistic Congress, he said:
You know how advantageous and necessary it is for a philosopher
to deepen his own understanding of scientific progress. . . . Each
of the branches of knowledge has its own characteristics and must
operate independently of the others, but that does not mean that
they should be ignorant of one another. It is only by means of
mutual understanding and cooperation that there can arise a great
edifice of human knowledge that will be in harmony with the higher
light of divine wisdom. (Sept. 14, 1955)
Addressing the Pontifical Academy of Sciences that same year,
Pius XII pointed to the dangers which have arisen from the
separation of science and philosophy, and he insisted that sci-
ence itself has need of a sound philosophy.
Science is Liberal Education
A solution to the problem is found within the tradition of
Thomistic realism. An educational system orientated to the
thought of St. Thomas Aquinas places natural science in its
proper context and revitalizes its integral connections with all
other intellectual disciplines. The Angelic Doctor never feared
man's fascination for the three-dimensional world of physical
reality. Instead he realized that investigation of this world was
the beginning of all knowledge. Within such a frame of refer-
ence, natural science is not another branch of learning whose
present expansion may cause it to replace the trunk. It is
rather the root. It is the means of transporting experiences,
facts and first principles from the physically sensible world to
all other fields of knowledge. And a tree's growth is not im-
488 SISTER M. OLIVIA
paired but is enhanced by a vigorous expansion of its root
system.
If development of the intellectual life is the essential objec-
tive of the school, then the acquisition of the habit of science
becomes the epitome of this growth. Man is most human when
he is the reasoning animal; and science taken in a general sense,
including theology, social science, mathematics and natural
science, is that habit which allows him to operate in this unique
human way, that is, reasoning from first principles. The most
liberalizing power we possess is this intrinsic habit of taking
principles gleaned by direct experience with the physical world
and forging ahead to a certitude that is ours, not the book's or
some good authority.
Moreover, in view of the philosophical dictum, " All knowl-
edge comes through the senses," it becomes obvious that all
sciences find their roots in the sensible world and, consequently,
in natural science. The perennial philosophy, therefore, assigns
to natural science a unique role among the sciences. It is the
source, or origin of human knowledge and intellectual prin-
ciples. Since its proper object is the sensible world, it is the
fountain head for the other sciences. Since its development
requires a rigid application of the liberal arts, it becomes the
battlefield for logic and mathematics and the proving ground
for the arts of communication. From this point of view, natural
science becomes the very foundation of a liberal education, and,
conversely, a liberal or humanistic education becomes a neces-
sity for a comprehensive scientific approach.
Is This Science.'*
Objections may be raised that natural science so conceived
is really the philosophy of nature and not the positive sciences
of modern civilization. There is, however, a growing group of
Thomists who hold that there is but one study of nature,
whether it be called the science of nature or the philosophy
of nature. A comprehensive analysis of the writings of St.
Thomas concerning the division of the sciences and an evalu-
THE ROLE OF SCIENCE IN LIBERAL EDUCATION 489
ation of various schools of interpretation can be found in a
scholarly article by Fr. Benedict Ashley, O. P/ In opposition
to positions that would divorce philosophy and science, Father
Ashley distinguishes between metaphysics and the philosphy
of nature, and maintains that there is a single science of nature
which includes philosophical and positive aspects. This point
of view necessarily assigns to natural science the key position
wathin the educational curriculum and determines the expanse,
the order and the orientation of the entire program. A science
curriculum so conceived goes beyond the mere listing and ex-
plaining of discoveries and accomplishments; it goes beyond a
facility to apply logically particular data to the theory of
another. It is conceived to lead the student to a habit of mind
capable of penetrating animate and inanimate phenomena in
the light of true unifying principles. This habit of mind, how-
ever, is not innate intuition, for its acquisition requires vast
experience with the facts of nature, great acumen with the
tools of thinking and expression, and a systematic considera-
tion of the fundamental theoretical systems of science. Each
portion of the science continuum, consequently, has a specific
role to play appropriate to the academic level of instruction
and related to other subjects in the curriculum. Elementary
science cannot be diluted general high school science, and
secondary science must not be an enthusiastic caricature of the
college science courses. INIoreover, to be successful, there must
be a constant interplay between science and the student's other
subjects, and a continuous orientation of the science class
toward the ultimate goal of education: true wisdom.
An Experiment in Science Education
Saint Xavier College of Chicago has attempted to realize a
program based on these philosophical principles and, conse-
quently, is receiving nationwide attention from educators. The
^ B. M. Ashley, O. P., " The Role of the Philosophy of Nature in Catholic Liberal
Education," Proceedings of the American Catholic Philosophical Association, XXX
(1956), 62-85.
490 SISTER M. OLIVIA
Saint Xavier Plan is a total program; it courageously includes
all levels of education, elementary, secondary and collegiate.
The history of Catholic education in Chicago finds Saint Xavier
College a pioneer not only in its historic foundation, but also
in its modern curriculum planning. Students of the '80 's and
'90's enjoyed the advantages of a non-graded school, while the
advanced placement program of today operated in embryonic
form between the college and high school as early as 1934.
General education became the pattern of the college cur-
riculum in 1932, but continuous self-study for the purpose of
revision and revitalization led the faculty toward a growing
conviction that this reordering could not be limited to the
collegiate level but must permeate the total educational sys-
tem. Reform, to be effective, must embrace the school system
in its entirety and it must envision the education of the indi-
vidual as an organic whole, not as a fragmented trinity of
grade school, high school and college.
Fortunately Saint Xavier College, conducted by the Sisters
of Mercy, is part of a school system that consists of over 60
elementary and secondary schools, and includes over 800
teachers. The college, therefore, could elaborate a program
embracing education from first grade through college, and carry
it out in practice with all desirable control and jurisdiction.
The initial endeavor soon found financial support from the
Ford Foundation for the Advancement of Education and from
the Carnegie Corporation of New York.
Members of the Albertus Magnus Lyceum under the able
direction of Father William H. Kane, O. P., collaborated with
the faculty of the college and its associated schools in the initial
investigation. First grade teachers, college professors and theo-
logians all had a role to play in the preliminary theoretical step:
the formulation of a coherent and concise set of theological,
philosophical and psychological principles as guides for the
ideal education of a Christian person. The pattern set at that
time was the " vertical approach " — an attempt to see each
specific educational problem in the context of the entire con-
tinuum of formal education. As a result of these discussions, a
THE ROLE OF SCIENCE IN LIBERAL EDUCATION 491
clear notion of our goal emerged: to construct an education
program in which the principles of Thomism are deliberately
and determinedly followed. The detailed development of the
entire curriculum may be found in several publications.^ This
article will be limited to the application of the general prin-
ciples of the Saint Xavier Plan to one facet only, the natural
sciences.
The science curriculum of the Saint Xavier Plan conforms
to certain basic principles that are the guiding factors for the
total program. Schooling at the elementary level is restricted
to the pre-liberal arts and pre-scientific studies. Natural sci-
ence requires extensive experience, keen application of the arts
of logic and mathematics as well as mature judgment. Grade
school children have none of these. Consequently, the nature
study of the elementary school must concentrate on the acqui-
sition of factual knowledge. This preparation for science must
continue until the child has a proficiency in the pre-liberal arts
of communication and arithmetic and an introduction to the
liberal arts, the tools for making order within the mind by
means of mental relationships. Mastery of these liberal arts,
properly so called, is the proper work of the secondary school.
Logic taught within the framework of English, and in the study
of algebra and geometry, is perhaps the most distinctive feature
of our secondary program. A student graduating from high
school is prepared with the habits of logic and mathematics,
trained to observe carefully, and equipped with a rich natural
history. He is then ready to begin science, which is considered
the proper work of the college.
A science curriculum that is oriented toward wisdom and
acknowledges the guiding powers of both philosophy and the-
^ " The Liberal Education of the Christian Person," The Saint Xavier College
Self-Study: A Progress Report (Chicago: Saint Xavier College, 1953) ; Sister M.
Muriel, R. S. M., " The Role of Natural Science in the Saint Xavier Plan," The
Catholic Educational Review, LVI (1958) , 397-404; O. W. Perlmutter, " A Program
for Liberal Education," Commonweal, LIX (1954), 423-426; Sister M. Olivia Barrett,
R. S. M., " Challenge Accepted," Transactions of the Illinois State Academy of
Science (February, 1957) .
492 SISTER M. OLIVIA
ology, will also be unique with respect to content and method-
ology at each point along the continuum of formal education.
The content of natural science encompasses most of the ex-
periences of man, but the content must be ordered for the sake
of teaching. The subject matter for each of the teachers must
be ordered to the ultimate goal of the teaching program. It is
not sufficient for the college faculty alone to be concerned with
the philosophical dimensions of science. To maintain a con-
tinuum, each step forward in the knowledge of science must be
directed toward the final goal. A point may partake of the
continuum of a straight line only if it is related to the limiting
positions of the two end points. So, too, the work of the indi-
vidual teacher becomes part of the entire curriculum when he is
properly oriented within the whole and recognizes the unique
contribution that his teaching alone can make. Consequently
each teacher must realize the goal that has been set and the
means at each level of moving forward toward the goal.
Methodology of Each School
At the elementary level, the course in nature study provides
the child with a rich fund of facts about the physical and bio-
logical world. The approach, however, is through the beautiful,
the wonderful, the awe-inspiring. This aesthetic presentation
does not hinder the essential requisite of order. In fact, it fosters
a closer interrelation between science and man's cultural his-
tory. Emphasis is placed on the facts of nature and not on the
theories of explanation. Consequently, we readily acknowledge
that the elementary curriculum does not attempt to teach
" science," but brings the child to observe nature, to question
its regularity and to puzzle over its drive and purposefulness.
These personal experiences of the early grades are gradually
augmented by reading about or repeating many of the experi-
mental findings of modern science, but the teacher is careful to
distinguish between the facts and the hypotheses suggested to
explain them. Moreover, the teacher is expected to be aware of
the important philosophical facts revealed by these simple
THE ROLE OF SCIENCE IN LIBERAL EDUCATION 493
contacts with reality. Elementary science teachers are not
making philosophers or scientists of their students, but in
teaching nature study certain elementary philosophical truths,
such as the existence of order and the difference between living
and non-living, will arise. In respecting these fundamental
philosophical truths in their w^ork, teachers are being good
pedagogues — they are introducing their young students to the
world of ideas.
Science in the secondary school has two primary objectives:
to expand the general knowledge of the sensible world initiated
in elementary school and to develop in context the tools of
science, particularly observation and the liberal arts of logic
and mathematics. In completing natural history, great empha-
sis on logical order provides ample opportunity of forming sharp
mental relationships. Moreover, the teacher carefully employs
every opportunity for deepening the student's awareness by
continually seeking out the philosophical truth revealed be-
neath the actual facts. Numerous principles are clarified by
the teacher and consistently applied throughout the course.
The experiential foundations for a clear comprehension of such
concepts as nature, causality and purpose are laid. This con-
stant concern for first principles proper to the subject prepares
the student for the beginnings of true science.
At the college level the student is properly prepared to begin
the study of science, that is, science in the precise sense sug-
gested at the beginning of this article. To develop this intel-
lectual habit with its own proper principles and methodology
presupposes varied experiences concerning nature, consider-
able skill in the liberal arts, and a certain intellectual maturity.
As previously mentioned these are the obligations of the pre-
college curriculum. The college teacher is expected to guide the
student through dialectical argumentation and strict scientific
demonstrations to an initial grasp of those fundamental certi-
tudes that are the fruit of man's genius in seeking knowledge of
the physical world. The student slowly develops a relatively
clear understanding of his powers and limitations in the con-
tinued search for truth. A comprehensive investigation of the
494 SISTER M. OLIVIA
few fundamental problems that have confronted natural sci-
entists of all ages forces the student to become more critical in
his thinking, and provides for both the science major and the
non-scientist a frame of reference in which to compare and
evaluate systems of thought resulting from particular solutions
to these problems.
The Theory in Practice:
Elementary Curriculum
Success in curriculum building is found in the practice. Prac-
tice involves the education of a unity, a Christian person; and
therefore, the process itself must be one of unification and not
division. The unity will first be found within the subject matter
taught, then within its interrelation with other subjects of the
curriculum, and finally within the methodology of the teacher.
The specific objectives of elementary science, as previously
stated, do not necessitate an autonomous position for nature
study at the primary level. The child's rich background of
actual experiences with the things of nature must begin with
everyday situations in which he perceives by handling, tasting,
smelling, listening, looking and then reflecting. Christian Doc-
trine provides the integrating force for both the natural and
social sciences. The child quickly comes to a realization of
plants and animals. In Christian Doctrine the story of Genesis
adds the important realization that a loving Father provided
this order. In social studies an application of this is made to
the family unit.
Then the child's comprehension of law both divine and
human, as well as its necessity, is enhanced by investigating
natural law as it is found in living and non-living phenomena.
At the third level, the need to use these gifts of creation
properly is emphasized as the student begins to see how man
can control and conserve the powers of nature.
At the fourth level natural science becomes autonomous, but
the content of this science is determined by the history of man
considered in the classes devoted to social science and Christian
THE ROLE OF SCIENCE IN LIBERAL EDUCATION 495
Doctrine. Early in his education the student recognizes science
as a human achievement and reahzes that man's cultural his-
tory strongly influences his scientific progress. Astronomy and
other facets of ancient science are studied in connection with
the history of Greece and the Mediterranean world. Conser-
vation is correlated with a study of the medieval ideal, so evi-
dent in monasticism, of an intelligent and reverent use of God's
natural gifts in a harmonious social life. The study of the
American way of life as it developed from colonial to modern
times provides ample opportunity for the student to become
familiar with modern scientific methods, either by actual ex-
periments or by vicarious means, and to become aware of its
successful application in modern technology.
The elementary science teacher has the additional responsi-
bility of providing a proper attitude and orientation. Conse-
quently, facts must always be distinguished from hypotheses;
intuitive principles that will later form the basis of science must
be recognized when met; nature must not be confused with
mechanics. Understanding and meanings are more important
than methods, and each step in the curriculum must be ordered
to the level of the ability and experience of the child, thus
assuring the development of an intelligent person capable of
critical thinking.
Secondary Curriculum
Does high school science have a unique function distinct from
that of the corresponding college courses .^^ Within the Saint
Xavier Plan the high school accepts the responsibility of pre-
senting and developing the liberal arts. Therefore, the sci-
ence courses are committed to this general directive as it
applies to the study of the world of nature. Three distinct
methods are used in the teachmg of science at the secondary
level: (i) the observational technique providing exercises in
classification, generalization and differentiation, (ii) the ex-
perimental technique employing logical principles of both dia-
lectical and demonstrative argumentation, and (iii) the mathe-
496 SISTER M. OLIVIA
matical technique requiring presentation of new mathematical
processes for correlation of experimental data.
The first two years of high school science complete the
natural history begun in the elementary grades. By this time,
however, order has become an essential characteristic of science
and its teaching. The subject matter, indeed, is basically that
of the conventional general science and biology courses, but it
has taken on a " new look " as a result of a radical relocation
of topics. The freshman course, Man in His World, makes use
of the natural concern of teenagers with self to stress the pivotal
position of man and to study all other biological and physical
phenomena in terms of their relationship to man. A systematic
review of man's systems begins with the skeletal system, which
provides man with his unique physical position among the
animals, and ends with a consideration of his intellectual
powers, placing him at the peak of material creation. General
science topics are correlated with each of these systems.
The general organization of the science courses in high school
is determined by our specific objectives for secondary science
linked with the fundamental principles of pedagogy. Learning
must begin with that which is best known. Consequently, the
student should begin with himself as a whole being, and then
proceed to the less known, the microscopic cells of which he is
composed. Many high-school biology courses begin with cell
theory, and go on to the study of systems. The Saint Xavier
Plan, in which logical order rather than evolutionary theory
is the criterion, reverses this order. Within each system a
general consideration precedes a study of the particular organs.
This is in accord with the philosophical principle of good peda-
gogy: from general knowledge to particular.
Each step forward must be intelligible to the student. Con-
sequently, the student under the guidance of the teacher con-
tinuously seeks causal relationships that illuminate the rele-
vance of each factor. Thus, in addition to learning facts, the
student also develops his power of analysis as he proceeds from
study to study. In studying the muscular system, the student
THE ROLE OF SCIENCE IN LIBERAL EDUCATION 497
discovers how the skeletal system achieves its end; and then
the digestive, circulatory, respiratory, and excretory systems
are easily seen as the means of providing the energy necessary
for this movement. Correlation between this study of man and
general science topics invariably arouses considerable interest.
IMost machine types, for example, can be found in the structure
of the human skeleton and its interrelation with the muscles.
The study of work, energy, and machines is fascinating when
one's ordinary movement becomes the example of a simple
machine in operation. The digestive system provides an op-
portunity to consider nutrition, which in turn requires some
understanding of basic chemistry. The physical and chemical
properties of air and the topics of weather and climate are
taught after the respiratory system. Thus the essential general
science topics, with the exception of heat, power, electricity,
and conservation, are incorporated into the first year course.
The study of the nervous system includes a consideration of
the internal senses and a brief but enlightening introduction to
some elementary principles of psychology. The student ulti-
mately realizes that man's powers are not limited to vegetative
and sentient functions. This simple presentation of the theory
of knowledge as the culminating subject of the first year reveals
why rational man is capable of controlling himself and his
surroundings.
Mans Mastery of His World, the second year course, provides
a comparable investigation of other creatures. The general
science topics are again presented in conjunction with relevant
zoological, botanical, and ecological subjects. The aim of these
in second year is to show that man can use his rational powers
to know, conserve, and control his environment. The inter-
relation of this course with religion, English and mathematics
is noteworthy. The principles of definition and the concept of
demonstrative reasoning are presented in the English and
mathematics courses of the second year; these elements of logic
find ample application in the natural science course. Similarly
the understanding of man's emotional and intellectual life, em-
phasized in the natural science course, is an excellent prepara-
498 SISTER M. OLIVIA
tion for the study of virtues and moral law in the religion
course.
Up to this point in the Saint Xavier Plan, science has been
limited almost entirely to expenence. Therefore, it is called pre-
science. By the beginning of the junior year, however, the
student should be ready to approach the physical world under
a new aspect, one which can be called scientific in a qualified
sense. For the most part the student is not yet able to carry
out the logical steps necessary to unlock the mysteries of
natural science because, unlike geometry wherein the demon-
strative pattern is relatively simple, the physical universe pre-
sents a complexity which requires a proficiency in logical tech-
niques. Nevertheless, he is ready to follow the footsteps of
the great discoverers of the past — to think, to search, to find
with them the fundamental concepts of natural science. This
new approach can give him an appreciation of the part that
individual human endeavor plays in the development of science.
He can recognize the place of modern science within the total
accomplishments of the human race.
In the junior year the student considers the nature and
methodology of science, coming to the realization that science
is more than a collection of statements, formulas and informa-
tion found in a book, a journal or in other peoples' heads.
Facts become scientific when their regularity suggests a com-
mon cause. Scientific knowledge is achieved when we can
demonstrate, or prove a fact by means of the universal cause
of that fact.
Emphasis on the causal nature of science, beginning already
in the junior year, is perhaps characteristic of the Saint Xavier
Plan; one might almost say that it is uniquely characteristic of
it. The causal nature of scientific explanations is not gener-
ally admitted. The modern revolution in physics brought with
it transformations that went far beyond the prevalence of in-
tegral signs and pd functions. Many eminent scientists now
believe that scientific theory is an artistic creation, that the
goal of scientific investigation is not to discover the nature of
the real world but merely to devise some fruitful guide to
THE ROLE OF SCIENCE IN LIBERAL EDUCATION 499
further study. They believe that scientific theories of the future
will be entirely statistical, eliminating every vestige of causal
determinism. This, they say, is indicated by the present status
of quantum mechanics and the principle of uncertainty.
Against this background of doubt and disagreement, it is essen-
tial to train young minds how to find certitude and how to
distinguish it from hypothesis. From the very beginning of
scientific studies, the student must recognize when the subject
matter is capable of true demonstration, and when the limits of
science are so close that the available evidence can give us
only great probability. If the student can sense in his studies
the healthy security of " knowing what he knows," there is
less likelihood of his succumbing to the universal skepticism of
many modern scientists.
Within the chemistry and physics courses much of the usual
material is deleted or reordered. Organization and selection
depend on two specific objectives of the secondary physical
science courses:
1 . Students must see the need and actually apply the liberal
arts of mathematics and logic within the framework of
physical science.
2. The important facts, basic principles and fundamental
theories of physical science must be studied in a sequence
that will necessarily demonstrate the interrelation of
these ideas into a unified whole.
A chemistry course based on three fundamental theories of
matter — atomic, kinetic molecular and electronic — provides the
necessary logical order, penetration and basic interrelation so
often missed in the typical descriptive course. The history of
science is used throughout the physical scien^^e courses, but
merely as a tool for learning and not as an ordering principle.
An adaptation of the Physical Science Study Committee Course
provides the student with those basic concepts of kinematics
and dynamics necessary for an understanding of modern physics
and a vivid realization of the power of mathematics as a tool
for measurement, for generalization and for speculation.
.500 SISTEK M. OLIVIA
College Curriculmn
A two year sequel in natural science at the college level com-
pletes the student's general education in science, preparing him
to pursue specialized scientific studies with creativity and pene-
tration or to advance within other disciplines while possessing
a clear concept of the powers and limitations of modern science.
Our conviction is that the fundamentals of natural science
are basic for a liberal education. Consequently, the policy at
Saint Xavier College is that all students, even those following
a professional education, must complete the basic two years of
college science. Usually general science courses at the college
level employ either the survey or the great books approach.
The Saint Xavier Plan offers a third alternative by accepting
as its responsibility the need to seek principles, evaluate these
and apply them to the detailed problems of local motion,
chemical alteration, vital activity and psychic behavior.
The freshman is asked to carry out a dialectical search for
the basic principles of changeable being after a consideration
of the nature of scientific knowledge reveals the need for be-
ginning with first principles. Various options are carefully
considered, and the Aristotelian insight is chosen for further
analysis. The Saint Xavier approach is not to be confused with
the philosophical cosmology course often required by our Catho-
lic colleges. Rather it is structured to provide a frame of refer-
ence for comparisons with modern systems of science and it is
taught within the natural science division by specialists in that
field. Changeable being, nature, motion, the infinite, time,
place and space are analyzed as concepts fundamental to all
scientific explanations and not as metaphysical intrusions on
nature. The necessity of an "unmoved Mover" within this
realm of the three-dimensional world of experience provides the
student with a rational conviction independent of faith, which
is a powerful tool in the apologetics of everyday life.
The three succeeding courses explore the means of using the
fundamental principles developed during the first semester in
THE ROLE OF SCIENCE IN LIBERAL EDUCATION .501
an analysis of modern physical science, biological science, and
psychology. No facile solution of concrete, individual problems
is offered the student. The detailed facts of modern science
were quite unknown to Aristotle and to St. Thomas, and most
of those facts have been interpreted by philosophical principles
alien or actually opposed to the sound principles of perennial
philosophy. These courses attempt no ready-made syntheses of
modem data with Aristotelian principles. Rather they alert the
student to the constant need of examining principles which
underlie scientific investigations and interpretations, and which
periodically produce revolutions in scientific thought.
An exhaustive survey of modern developments is not our
objective; hence, only selected problems are considered within
each field. In the field of physical science, the structure of the
macrocosm and microcosm requires serious consideration of
Newtonian and relativity physics as well as mechanistic and
statistical particle theory. The nature, origin and evolution of
life are biological problems providing excellent opportunities
for examining the validity of Aristotelian principles, while the
consideration of the " mind-body problem " in psychology
readily exemplifies the importance and perennial value of
Aristotelian principles in the development of psychology.
If students coming to college are sufficiently familiar with
facts and techniques of natural science, the major portion of
these courses can be devoted to examining the principles basic
to the various theories proposed for the solution of problems.
This examination of diverse principles reveals the nature of
the problem proposed, the precise aspect of relevant material
under consideration, the limitations of the explanation, and
the influence of these principles on other disciplines. Such an
examination brings out clearly wherein diverse scientific views
are similar, and wherein they are fundamentally opposed.
The impact of this four semester sequence in natural science
can hardly be overestimated. It inculcates an awareness of the
potential within human thought, an appreciation of the powers
of science beyond gadgetry and technology; and it provides a
means for philosophical tenets to permeate our analysis of
502 SISTER M. OLIVIA
modern science, thus initiating the unity of philosophy and
science so frequently urged by the late Pope Pius XII:
There is one basic and current question which claims your special
attention. We mean the relationship between scientific experi-
mentation and philosophy. It is a point on which numerous prob-
lems have been raised by recent discoveries and studies. Let Us say
at once that, in general, the honest and profound study of scientific
problems not only does not tend to contradict the certain principles
of the ' perennial philosophy ' but rather receives from it a light
which the philosophers themselves probably did not foresee and
which in any case they could not have hoped would be so lasting
and intense. (Opening session of the Fourth International Tho-
mistic Congress, September 14, 1955.)
Sister M. Olivia, R. S. M.
Saint Xavier College,
Chicago, Illinois.
AMERICAN CATHOLICS AND SCIENCE
e>*0
SINCE the time of Voltaire and the French encyclopedists
there has been a constant effort to discredit religion in
general, and the Catholic Church in particular, for its
alleged antagonism to natural science. The accusation is with-
out foundation, for religion and science have entirely different
goals and deal with different subject matters. Religion is con-
cerned primarily with the supernatural, while the experimental
and observational sciences are interested only in the natural.
It happens that religion and science are practised by men,
often the same men. Their successes or failures in the realm
of either religion or science are sometimes falsely attributed
to religion or to science itself. In 1931 Lehman and Witty ^
made a study of church affiliation, or the lack of it, among
American scientists who were considered " outstanding." " Out-
standing" was defined as inclusion in Who's Who and being
starred in American Men of Science. They reported:
1. " Only about 25% of the outstanding scientists in America
report church affiliation in their biographical sketches in Who's
Who," whereas " about 50% of all individuals whose names
appear in Who's Who provide this information."
2. " The 25% who give information regarding church affili-
ation are associated in most instances with the relatively liberal
denominations," such as the Unitarians and Congregationalists.
3. "Noticeable indeed is the small frequency of Roman
Catholics among the starred names in Ameiican Men of Sci-
ence." Among 1189 outstanding scientists, three only report
membership in the Catholic Church."
4. From this they come to the unwarranted conclusion:
" The conspicuous dearth of scientists among Catholics sug-
^ Harvey C. Lehman and Paul A. Witty, " Scientific Eminence and Church
Membership," Scientific Monthly, XXIII (1931), 544.
503
504 PATRICK II. YANCEY
gests that the tenets of that church are not consonant with
scientific endeavor."
In spite of the evident non sequittir of the conclusion, and of
the questionable method by which it was reached, the article of
Lehman and Witty stimulated a great deal of soul-searching
among American Catholics in the sciences. Many Catholics
realized the shortcomings as much as, if not more than, the
authors of the article. Indeed, some had anticipated the writers
by several years, and had taken steps to improve the quantity
and quality of scientific teaching and research in Catholic in-
stitutions by organizing what was called the " Catholic Round
Table of Science."
The prime movers of this activity were the late Monsignor
Cooper, anthropologist of the Catholic University, and Father
Anselm Keefe, O. Praem., of St. Norbert College, who acted as
secretary throughout most of the organization's existence. The
group met annually at the meeting of the American Association
for the Advancement of Science, and a small publication. The
Tabloid Scientist, was issued. Both in the meetings and in the
pages of the paper the Catholic's inadequacies in the sciences
were incisively singled out, and remedies were suggested.
Unfortunately, the organization began to hold meetings
apart from the AAAS and other scientific societies at which
technical papers were presented. While the motive — the stimu-
lating of research among Catholic scientists — was good, such
a program was inevitably divisive. If pursued, it would wall
the Catholic scientist off from his colleagues and tend to the
development of a " Catholic " science. This was directly con-
trary to the intention of the founders of the Round Table, and
met with the marked displeasure of many of the members.
Attendance at the national meetings fell off to such an extent
that they were discontinued. The Catholic Round Table ceased
to exist as a national organization. During its life, it had im-
proved the status of science among Catholics. It inspired many
to undertake research programs. They appeared in greater
numbers at meetings of scientific societies and became more
AMERICAN CATHOLICS AND SCIENCE 505
active in their affairs. Best of all, perhaps, it brought a healthy
discontent to Catholic scientists. Dissatisfied with the accom-
plishments of Catholic institutions, they demanded more men
and money for science.
In spite of these demands and their partial satisfaction.
Catholic institutions were still lagging. A more exhaustive sur-
vey of " The Origins of U. S. Scientists " made by Goodrich,
Knapp and Boehm " in 1951 showed that Catholic institutions
had an index of only 2.8, as compared with 17.8 for other
liberal arts colleges, in the preparation of graduates who went
on for the doctorate in science. Far from dissenting from these
findings, many Catholic scientists added data of their own to
show that Catholic schools were not " pulling their weight " in
scientific endeavor. Thus, in 1953, the second year of the
National Science Foundation fellowship program, the present
writer ^ called attention to the fact that, of 577 fellowships
awarded, only 7 (1.2%) went to students in Catholic institu-
tions; whereas, as Father Joseph Mulligan, of Fordham Uni-
versity pointed out, the student population was 6% of the
undergraduate population of the country. Since then achieve-
ment in the NSF program has improved, but even in 1960 only
to the point of 3% of the fellowships awarded. Father Mulligan
has indicated some extenuating factors for these low percent-
ages, but even so. Catholics are still not doing as much as they
should.
Catholic scientists have made some notable contributions to
the advancement of science in the United States, such as the
work of the Jesuit Seismological Association, but these have
been fewer than our numerical strength would call for. Few
Catholics, for instance, have been elected to the National
Academy of Sciences and, strangest of all, fewer still, from the
United States, to the Pontifical Academy of Science. No Catho-
lic has ever been president of the AAAS and very few have held
offices in the other scientific organizations.
^H. B. Goodrich, R. H. Knapp and George A. W. Boehm, "The Origins of
U. S. Scientists," Scientific American, CLXXXV (1951), 15.
■'' Catholic Science Notes, May 14, 1953.
50C PATRICK H. YANCEY
These facts are accepted by all who have investigated the
matter, but there is no agreement as to the explanation of the
phenomenon. The reason assigned by Lehman and Witty, that
the " tenets of (the Catholic) Church are not consonant with
scientific endeavor," is patently false. There is nothing in the
teaching of the Catholic Church which prohibits or discourages
its members from engaging in the pursuit of science. Indeed,
the popes, especially in recent times, have encouraged Catholics
by word and example to devote themselves to scientific work.
While the primary purpose of the Church is to lead men to
salvation, it has always been a patron of the arts and sciences.
Historians are agreed that were it not for the Catholic Church
civilization might well have been destroyed during the bar-
barian invasions of Europe.
While divinely founded for a spiritual purpose, the Church
is composed of men, and she might well paraphrase Terence to
point a paradox: " Divina sum: humani nihil a me alienum
puto" Following the example of her Divine Founder, she
makes use of natural as well as supernatural means in achieving
her ends. Nothing is more " consonant " with the primary
purpose of the Church than to encourage the discovery of truth
in the natural realm. As St. Paul wrote the Romans (1:20)
" The invisible things of Him from the creation of the world
are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made."
The Church from the very beginning, therefore, not only de-
manded learning of the clergy but also promoted it among the
laity, first in the schools that developed around the cathedrals,
and then in the universities which are her pride and glory.
The popes, in particular, have been outstanding patrons of
science. This is shown by the numerous scientific works which
they have promoted, and by the founding of the famous Acca-
demia dei Lincei under papal patronage. One of the oldest
science academies in the world, it is now succeeded by the
Pontifical Academy of Science, whose membership includes
the world's outstanding scientists, regardless of their religious
beliefs.
It should be abundantly clear that there is nothing in the
AMERICAN CATHOLICS AND SCIENCE 507
tenets of the Catholic Church not consonant with scientific
endeavor. It might rather be concluded that Catholics are not
following the teaching of their church when they neglect the
pursuit of truth in the natural sciences, as well as in the divine.
How, then, are we to explain the deficiency in scientific achieve-
ment among Catholics.^
First of all, such a deficiency is not true of Catholics as such.
The leaders of the scientific renaissance in the 16th and 17th
centuries, such as Copernicus, Cardinal Nicholas of Cusa, and
even Galileo himself, were Catholics and some of them priests,
as Conant points out.*
Catholic missionaries, like the Italian Jesuit Ricci, introduced
modern science to China and other newly discovered lands.
Others, like Father Marquette and his brethren in Canada, the
United States and other American countries, were doing funda-
mental scientific research in geography and natural history.
Members of the Society of Jesus, and of other religious orders,
established colleges and universities where these subjects were
taught long before Harvard and Yale were founded. Even to-
day Catholics in Europe compare favorably with their non-
Catholic colleagues in scientific achievement. Why should
there be so marked a difference in the United States of the
present.^ It is suggested that this is not a religious but a social
phenomenon.
Catholics in this country are not only in a minority but also
labor under handicaps not found among the rest of the popu-
lation. Most American Catholics are comparative newcomers
to this country. The majority are only first or second genera-
tion Americans, and as such have not had time to acquire a
tradition of scholarship. Most of the original immigrants came
from the lower strata of European society which had had few
educational opportunities. This was particularly true of the
Irish who constituted the first wave of Catholic immigration
to this country. Partly because of the deliberate deprivation of
* James B. Conant, Science and Common Sense (New Haven: Yale University
Press, 1951), p. 78.
508 PATRICK H. YANCEY
adequate educational facilities by their British masters, the
Irish immisfrants to America were largely uneducated. Even the
educated Irish in the past had been more interested in the
arts and humanities than in the natural sciences, and this bent
carried over to their descendants in America, Since the begin-
nings of Catholicism in this country are due chiefly to the Irish
it is not surprising that scientific achievement was not high on
the list of their attainments. This was recognized by Lehman
and Witty, who show that Catholics are much more in evidence
in such fields as drama and politics.
Whatever may be said of national background, the children
of immigrants usually received no adequate education of any
kind, due to the poverty of their parents. Those who did suc-
ceed in going to college generally selected careers of prestige,
such as law or medicine, rather than that of scholarship. It
should also be said that many of the best minds among these
first generation Americans elected to follow the Master in a
priestly or religious vocation, and thus were lost to science.
Another factor which operated adversely on the development
of scientists in the Catholic population was the distrust and
even fear on the part of many, especially among the clergy, of
science as atheistic and dangerous to faith and morals. This
was due largely to the controversy aroused by the publication
of Darwin's The Origin of Species. Since Darwin was an
Englishman and not a Catholic the theory of evolution some-
how came to be looked on as anti-Catholic. The truth of the
matter is that long before Darwin, the Catholic Lamarck had
proposed evolution to account for our present species of plants
and animals. It is interesting to note that the chief opponent
of evolution at that time, and probably the one who did most to
put off its acceptance until after Darwin's publication, was the
Protestant, Cuvier. Some of Darwin's followers, notably Hux-
ley and Spenser in England and Hackel in Germany, made
unwarranted extensions of the theory into fields of philosophy
and ethics. In the words of Wheeler, " Evolution, only a scien-
AMERICAN CATHOLICS AND SCIENCE 509
tific theory for Darwin's ' modest mind,' itself became a philoso-
phy, to some almost a creed." ^
As a by-product of this controversy, there arose a school of
science popularizers, like H. G. Wells, who took occasion to
attack religion as the enemy of science. The most infamous of
these was Andrew White, whose Warfare of Science and The-
ology was popular in the last century. Many pastors intent
on protecting their flocks, especially the young, against this
poison warned them of the dangers to faith and morals lurking
in the field of science, especially when pursued in non-Catholic
institutions. The last condition was usually present, for Catho-
lics did not have the facilities of large universities in those days.
The young person of ability and scholarly bent was urged to
follow a safe career. No doubt many a potential Catholic sci-
entist was lost in this way or, sadder still, some became scien-
tists but gave up their faith because of opposition and because
of lack of guidance. When such a student brought to a priest
for solution the usual difficulties against the faith presented to
him by his non-Catholic colleagues, he was told in some cases
either that there was no problem involved, or that he should
abandon science lest he lose his soul.
Another cause of the poor showing of Catholics in scientific
accomplishment, was the lack, or the low quality, of science
instruction in Catholic educational institutions. The recent
furor so widely discussed in the public press showed that this
condition was not confined to Catholic schools, but was more
or less universal. As we shall see, however, it was aggravated
in their case.
The Church through the centuries has fostered the pursuit
of learning, even secular learning, as an aid to her mission.
W^ith the foundation of the United States a new factor entered
education. The Constitution of the new nation guaranteed
freedom of teaching, but at the same time left unchecked the
development of a completely secular spirit in the public schools.
® L. Richmond Wheeler, Vitalism: Its History and Validity (London: Witherby,
1939), p. 164.
510 PATRICK H. YANCEY
The Church engaged in the operation of a full-scale educational
system from kindergarten to university. This system under the
aegis of the National Catholic Educational Association has
become a potent force for education, as well as for the preser-
vation and spread of the faith in this country. It has won the
admiration of Catholics throughout the world. There are,
however, certain disadvantages in such an education, especially
with respect to the development of scientists.
In the early days when Catholics were few and mostly poor,
the schools also tended to be poor. The curriculum of the pri-
mary schools was held to a minimum — mostly the four R's —
and science was not even thought of. High schools were fewer
still, and concerned chiefly with the humanities with little, if
any, science included. When science courses were offered, they
were not infrequently taught by instructors themselves un-
trained in science. The same inadequacies obtained in the
colleges. As a matter of fact, there was no clear distinction
between high school and college. The early Catholic " colleges,"
following the European system, embraced everything from first
grade to philosophy. The last three or four years corresponded
roughly with the American college, at least with the junior
college. Apart from the commercial curriculum, which was a
catch-all for those who lacked the ability or taste for the Arts
or Science program, the education was of the classical type with
very little science. The " science " curriculum was distinguished
from the arts curriculum not by the amount of science taught,
but by the substitution of modern languages for Greek and
Latin. This in itself is an indication of the low esteem in which
science was held.
The science that was taught consisted of a general course
called natural philosophy, largely physics. In some cases this
was taught by a man well trained and really interested in the
subject, though the field was so vast that he could scarcely do
it justice. Often an individual teacher would take some part
of the field as a hobby, such as astronomy or seismology, and
develop an observatory where serious scientific research was
conducted. The ordinary student, however, did not benefit
AMERICAN CATHOLICS AND SCIENCE 511
from this. Little laboratory work was given, in part because of
lack of funds, in part because it was not regarded as important.
Students in early American Catholic colleges were not exposed
to a scientific atmosphere, and, consequently, few of them ever
thought of science as a career.
With the increasing standardization in education and the
coming of the accrediting associations, the Catholic educational
system had to be reorganized and regular science courses in-
troduced into high schools and colleges. The quality of the
high school teaching left much to be desired, but it was not
worse than in the majority of American high schools.
The colleges, although now offering distinct courses in
departments of biolog;^^ chemistry and physics, were often
poorly equipped and under-staffed, sometimes with second-
rate teachers. The reason for the first was lack of funds, for
the second, the failure to produce scientists. Some members of
religious teaching orders were sent to secular universities for
special studies in the sciences and many of them were out-
standing students. Great hopes were held out that they would
return to their own institutions and build up strong depart-
ments for the training of Catholic youth. But in most cases
they were made administrators and lost to science. Those who
were not immersed in administration were given so much teach-
ing and extracurricular work that they could do no research
themselves, far less interest their students in it.
As for the few Catholic lay scientists available, the salaries
offered were so low that they could not make a decent living
for their families. Those who made sacrifices to stay encoun-
tered the same difficulties as the religious: too much teaching,
too little money for equipment, and lack of interest on the
part of students.
The lack of interest is an important factor. A study of the
winners of the annual Science Talent Search among high school
students has shown that most of them became interested in
science at about the sixth grade. This would not have occurred
unless they were reared in homes in which science was held in
high esteem, or unless they had been introduced to it in gram-
512 PATRICK H. YANCEY
mar school. A parallel exists in the case of the college student.
Unless he enters college with a scientific career in mind he will
rarely develop a desire for one. As we have seen, most Catholic
college students in the past have had neither the home environ-
ment nor a proper education in science at the grade school and
high school levels. They come to college, therefore, seeking
a general education or, at most, preparation for entrance to a
professional school. Most high school students are left with
the impression that biology is useful only for studying dentistry,
medicine or medical technology; and that chemistry and physics
are but the indispensable propaedeutics of an engineering or
industrial career. No one has inspired them with the zest of
study in science for its own sake, of wrestling with a problem
because, as in the mountain climber's justification of his sport,
" It's there." More prosaically, they do not appreciate the
value and necessity of basic research in the sciences.
After the second world war when we, as a nation, finally
realized our weakness in science, the Government began sub-
sidizing both the training of scientists and their research. The
writer, together with Professor James A. Reyniers, then of the
University of Notre Dame, was appointed by President Tru-
man to the Board of the new National Science foundation.
From this vantage-point, the response of Catholic colleges and
universities to this new opportunity could be observed. The
statistics already cited on graduate fellowships show that in the
beginning this response was poor. Today an increasing number
of institutions are qualifying for research grants, and capable
scientists are coming to the fore. More and more high school
and college teachers are working to improve their teaching by
taking faculty fellowships, and by attending summer and other
institutes in science.
American Catholics have advanced notably in the improve-
ment of instruction in the sciences, and this at all levels of
education. Why do they still lag in the production of scientists?
Some have suggested the economic reason: Catholic laymen
need a larger income than can be obtained by teaching in a
Catholic institution. But men will gladly sacrifice financial
AMERICAN CATHOLICS AND SCIENCE 513
reward for the sake of a burning intellectual interest. With
few exceptions, the great scientists have not been rich; most of
them were comparatively poor. Rich or poor, they were so
intent on the pursuit of knowledge that they refused to be
diverted from it, even by the promise of greater material gain
in other fields. What sparks that burning interest? Where has
Catholic education failed?
It can not be argued that the intent single-mindedness of the
devoted scientist indicates a higher level of intelligence than is
required in other fields. Intellectual capacity (and dedication)
must lie at the foundation of eminence in any pursuit, whether
the great man be doctor, lawyer or merchant chief. The touch-
stone of excellence in the study of the natural sciences is an
insatiable curiosity. This thirst for knowledge of the causes
of things is a natural human endowment, as any one can testify
who has been subjected to the relentless series of " Why's " of
a young child. The child's queries are not directed to motiva-
tion alone, but, as the scholastic would put it, to the four causes
of natural things. All too often this initial curiosity is stifled,
put off with " It's so because I say it's so " or " That is the
nature of the thing." Most deadly of all responses to the bur-
geoning spirit of inquiry is the chilly rebuke for having raised
the question at all. Is there an inherent factor, in content
or method, in Catholic education that stifles pre-scientific
curiosity?
Revealed religion is based on the word of God, with
mysteries not explicable by human reason. Man comes to a
knowledge of the supernatural only by faith. The primary
purpose of a Catholic education is to teach these truths of
faith. We do employ logic, philosophy, the resources of history
and archaeology to show that there is no contradiction between
these truths and reason, but in the final analysis their proof
rests on the authority of God and his Church. This being the
case, it is easy for those untrained in the relationship of faith
and reason to allow an authoritarian approach undue influence
in the teaching of non-religious subjects. Such confusion of the
514 PATRICK H, YANCEY
two orders, however, is not inevitable. Certainly, it was not
the case with the great scholastics, nor is it today with the
serious student of traditional scholasticism.
The faith of St. Albert the Great neither impeded nor un-
duly influenced his interest in nature and his scientific method
in the investigation of it. His scientific methodology and his
knowledge of nature did not vitiate his faith but provided the
basis for the science of theology. The wisdom of Albertus
Magnus, " a man so superior in every science that he can
fittingly be called the wonder and the miracle of our time," ®
" was readily accepted by his most gifted disciple, St. Thomas
Aquinas, who made it an integral part of his entire thought." ^
St. Thomas, as a physical theorist, has been overshadowed by
his reputation as a theologian, in fact, " one could say that
his valuable contributions to the development of physical sci-
ence have been lost in the great mass of his writing on theology
and philosophy." ^ The physical theory of St. Thomas, how-
ever, does not allow an authoritarian approach, nor even a
general approach satisfied with easy answers. " A science which
regards things only in general is not science complete in its
ultimate act. . . . Hence it is evident that science, to be com-
plete, must not be content with general knowledge, but must
proceed to a knowledge of the species." ®
Recent studies by members of the Albertus Magnus Ly-
ceum ^° have clearly shown that the scientific methodology of
® Ulrich of Strasbourg, Summa de Bono, IV, tr. 3, c. 9, cited by J. A. Weisheipl,
O. P., The Development of Physical Theory in the Middle Ages (New York:
Sheed & Ward, 1959) , p. 27.
^J. A. Weisheipl, O.P., op. cit., p. 29.
*W. A. Wallace, O. P., "St. Thomas Aquinas, Galileo, and Einstein," The
Thomist, XXIV (1961), 1.
'St. Thomas, In I Meteor., lect. 1, n. 1.
^° See W. A. Wallace, 0. P., The Sdentific Methodology of Theodoric of Freiberg
(Fribourg: University Press, 1959) ; J. A. Weisheipl, O. P., op. cit„ and " Albertus
Magnus and the Oxford Platonists," Proc. Am. Cath. Phil. Assoc, XXXII (1958),
124-139; W. H. Kane, O. P., et al.. Science in Synthesis (River Forest, 1953);
B. M. Ashley, O. P., Aristotle's Sluggish Earth: The Problematics of the De Caelo
(River Forest, 1958); J. R. Nogar, O. P., An Analysis of Contemporary Theory
of Physical Science (River Forest, 1952); M. A. Glutz, C. P., The Manner of
Demonstrating in Natural Philosophy (River Forest, 1956) .
AMERICAN CATHOLICS AND SCIENCE 515
the scholastics has traditionally refused to be weakened by
extrinsic influences. If the contemporary failure of Catholic
instruction in the sciences is a result of an authoritarian ap-
proach, that approach, in turn, is the result either of ignorance
of the value of the traditional methodology or the putting aside
of the difficult and demanding methodology of true science to
which the tradition adheres. In either case, it is not the theo-
retical problem of the relationship of philosophy, science and
religion which, in principle, was solved long ago, but the prac-
tical problem of Catholic educators, perhaps too busy to attend
to and apply the principles themselves, or perhaps too poorly
trained to appreciate the solution even when offered.
The practical problem is compounded in the classroom when
the young mind is confronted with the distinction between
revealed truth and empirical knowledge. The former is usually
taught in short catechetical form which ignores the distinction.
Thus the catechism asks, " Who made you.^ " and answers,
" God made me." This is correct, but it does not explain how
this was accomplished through secondary causes. The explana-
tion perhaps will come later but, in the meantime, the child's
mind is satisfied and, unless he is given a further stimulus later
to investigate the natural phenomena of creation, he may
go through life with a very truncated understanding of his
existence.
An aggravating factor in the stifling of interest in science
has been the unsatisfactory handling of scientific matters in
the press. The Catholic press in the United States has been
apathetic, if not actively inimical, to science. Granted that the
primary purpose of a Catholic periodical is to inform Catholics
about matters of the faith, they should deal with everything
that affects Catholics. Our Catholic periodicals do cover almost
everything from mystical theology to comics, and the sections
on sports often boast the dignity of a special editor, but one
finds little on science, and that little often badly done. Most
of the articles on science are " refutations " of some scientific
theory, generally by writers incompetent to judge the value of
the theory they are attacking. Heavy-handed humor supplies
516 PATRICK H. YANCEY
for knowledge. The most embarrassing of these outpourings
are the vitrioHc attacks on scientists in which the epithets
" godless " and " atheistic " are cast with irresponsible abandon.
Catholic scientists are embarrassed and humiliated by them,
and are hard put to it to explain to their non-Catholic col-
leagues that such effusions represent editorial opinion, and not
the official stand of the Church.
It would be most advantageous if every Catholic periodical
were to have one or more competent Catholic scientists on its
editorial staff, or available as consultants. Nothing on science
would be published without their approval and, more positively,
they would write, or commission, timely, popular articles on
scientific subjects, A program such as this would make the
Catholic reader more aware of the importance of science in his
life, and would put in proper perspective the relations between
science and religion.
The News Service of the National Catholic Welfare Con-
ference might do well to establish a panel of scientists as con-
sultants on whom it could call for advice on its releases con-
cerning scientific matters. Catholics would, on the one hand, be
spared the embarrassment of ill-advised attacks on science and
scientists, and, on the other, accept with confidence news of
science appearing in the Catholic press.
The regrettable demise of the Catholic Round Table of Sci-
ence has already been mentioned. Although its dissolution had
been inevitable, many of the members missed the annual ex-
change of views at the convention of the A A AS. Some of them
had approached the present writer regarding the possibility
of reviving it. The notion had little initial appeal in view of the
difficulties involved. Encouragement came with the forwarding
of an enquiry from Mr. Kenneth Kelleher, a research physicist
then with the Naval Research Laboratory in Washington. Mr.
Kelleher asked Monsignor Hochwalt, executive secretary of
the National Catholic Educational Association, whether there
existed an organization of Catholic scientists and suggested, if
there did not, that one be formed for the purpose of discussing
problems concerning religion, philosophy and science. Mon-
AMERICAN CATHOLICS AND SCIENCE 517
signer Hochwalt himself was much in favor of such a program
and urged the writer to undertake either the revival of the
Catholic Round Table, or the organization of a new group. He
offered the services of the NCEA in publishing a periodical in
which such questions would be discussed and news of the
activities of Catholic scientists would be chronicled. The writer
undertook the editorship of the new publication, Catholic
Science Notes. This was sent several times a year to all former
members of the Round Table whose mailing list was made
available by its last presiding officer, the Reverend John Cor-
telyou, C. M., head of the Biology Department of DePaul
Universty.
Also at Monsignor Hochwalt's suggestion, a meeting of
Catholics attending the AAAS convention at St. Louis in 1952
was called to determine whether there was sufficient interest
in forming a new organization of Catholic scientists. The re-
sponse was unanimously favorable. A call was sent out for an
organizational meeting at the next AAAS convention in Boston
in 1953, with Boston College serving as host.
The distinguished chemist and dean of the Graduate School
of Princeton University, Sir Hugh Taylor, was asked to pre-
side. After considerable discussion it was voted to form a new
organization to be called the Albertus Magnus Guild. The
Guild's Constitution states its purposes:
i.) to serve as a means of contact among Catholic scientists;
ii.) to promote productive scholarship and a greater partici-
pation in scientific activities by Catholic scientists;
iii.) to assist Catholic scientists in relating the Church's
teachings to the findings of science.
Sir Hugh Taylor was elected first president of the Guild.
Later His Eminence Cardinal Stritch, Archbishop of Chicago,
accepted the title of Honorary President and until his untimely
death gave the Guild his whole-hearted support. His successor,
the Most Reverend John J, Wright, Bishop of Pittsburgh, has
continued such support. The publication of Catholic Science
Notes was assumed by the Guild under the title of Bulletin oj
518 PATRICK H. YANCEY
the Alhertus Magnus Guild. The annual meeting of the Guild
has been held every year during Christmas Week in connection
with the A A AS convention, since this organization embraces all
the sciences. Luncheon or dinner meetings are held at the
conventions of other learned societies, such as the American
Chemical Society, American Physical Society and the American
Institute of the Biological Sciences, Since 1956 the Guild has
sponsored, at each meeting, a " Science Sunday." A Solemn
Mass is celebrated at the Cathedral to which all attending
the convention are invited, and at which a sermon is given on
the relations between science and religion. This has been very
well received, and similar programs are now sponsored by
other faiths.
Local chapters of the Guild have been organized with great
success in many cities. The smaller groups hold more frequent
meetings, and devote themselves to special projects: lectures,
the promotion of scientific careers among students in Catholic
schools, the study of the handling by textbooks of matters
relating to faith and morals.
Even before the founding of the Guild, the writer had
attended the World Congress of Pax Romana, the international
movement of Catholic intellectuals, at Bonn in 1953. This
organization of Catholic professors and students has as its
purpose the bringing of Catholic influence into intellectual and
social movements, such as UNESCO, throughout the world.
It is organized by both national (the United States member is
the Catholic Committee for Intellectual and Cultural Affairs)
and professional groups and meets every year in a different
country.
Impressed by the work of the organization, the writer sought
the advantages of affiliation with it for the Guild. The Guild
voted to apply for membership in 1954, and this was done at
the 1955 meeting of Pax Romana in Nottingham, England.
Due to the good offices of Sir Hugh Taylor, then president of
Pax Romana as well, the Guild was admitted as a Corre-
sponding Member. In 1958 the Scientific Secretariat of Pax
Romana in a conference at Louvain decided to organize the
AMERICAN CATHOLICS AND SCIENCE 519
Secretariat formally on a world-wide scale, a decision put into
effect at the Vienna Congress of Pax Romana. The Executive
Secretary-Treasurer of the Guild was elected a member of the
Council. Thus the Guild now has international connections
and works with Catholic scientists throughout the world for a
better understanding between science and religion.
The Guild has grown in stature and membership, but many
Catholic scientists remain apart. Some object to it, as we have
seen, on the grounds that such an organization would tend to
separate Catholic scientists from their colleagues. Such divi-
siveness is diametrically opposed to the purposes of the Guild.
In that case, then, why any Catholic professional organization?
Why a guild of Catholic physicians, of Catholic attorneys.?
In each instance the answer is the same: Facets of these dis-
ciplines reflect philosophical and theological problems. If the
lamentable mistakes of the past are to be avoided. Catholic
physicians, lawyers and scientists must meet with philosophers
and theologians, perhaps even in harmonious dispute. The
time of the omnicompetent man of the Renaissance is past. No
present-day Pico would set out calmly to write de omni re
scibili et quihusdam aliis. The syntheses of the great scho-
lastics, embodying the positive knowledge of their own time,
retain their value, but the flood of discovery since then demands
evaluation — and the guidance — of their thought. European
scientists have engaged in this effort, and have considerable
influence on their contemporaries. In France the Union Fran-
caise des Scientifiques Catholiques, and in Great Britain the
Philosophy of Science Group of the Newman Association hold
regular meetings at which philosophical and theological ques-
tions raised by science are discussed. The annual Spode House
Conference of the latter group is especially stimulating.
Catholic scientists in the United States tend to avoid the
philosophical aspects of science, and one finds few of them in
organizations like the Philosophy of Science Association, where
they should be active in relating the findings of modern science
to scholastic philosophy.
520 PATRICK H. YANCEY
One notable exception to the inactivity of Catholic scientists
in this regard is the Albertus Magnus Lyceum, at the Domini-
can House of Studies, River Forest, Illinois. This is the life
work of Father William H. Kane, O. P., in whose honor this
volume is published. Father Kane and his associates have
worked tirelessly at the synthesis of philosophy and natural
science. The steady output of publications shows a vitality
that augurs well for the progress of science among Catholics
in the United States. May he have many more years of work in
his chosen field.
Patrick H. Yancey, S.J.
Spring Hill College
Mobile, Alabama
NOTES ON OUR CONTRIBUTORS
James A. Weishedpl, 0. P., S.T. Lr., Ph.D. (Angelicum) in natural
philosophy, D. Phu,. (Oxford) in medieval history, is Professor of
Medieval Philosophy in the Pontifical Faculty of Philosophy at the
Dominican House of Studies, River Forest, Illinois. Formerly Lec-
turer in Natural Philosophy at Hawkesyard Priory, England, he is
Bursar-Archivist of the Albertus Magnus Lyceum.
Edward D. Simmons, Ph. D, (Notre Dame) in philosophy, is Associate
Professor of Philosophy at Marquette University, Milwaukee. A
frequent contributor to The Thomist, he has recently published
The Scientific Art of Logic (Bruce, 1961) .
John A. Oesterle, Ph. D. (Laval) , former Fulbright Research Scholar
at the University of Louvain, is Associate Professor of Philosophy at
the University of Notre Dame. Among his publications are Logic-
Art of Defining and Reasoning (Prentice-Hall, 1952) , and Ethics:
The Introduction to Moral Science (Prentice-Hall, 1957) .
Herbert Ratner, M. D. (Michigan) with graduate work in bacteriology,
public health and nutrition, is Associate Clinical Professor of Public
Health and Preventive Medicine at the Loyola University School
of Medicine, Chicago. Formerly associated with the Great Books
in Biology, he is now Director of the Oak Park Department of
Public Health.
Richard P. McKeon, Ph. D. (Columbia) , formerly Dean of the Division
of Humanities at the University of Chicago, member of the U. S.
delegation to UNESCO, and U.S. counselor of UNESCO affairs
at the American Embassy in Paris, is Distinguished Service Pro-
fessor of Greek and Philosophy at the University of Chicago. On
leave of absence from the university, he is at the Center for
Advanced Study in the Behavioral Sciences in Stanford, California.
Daniel A. Callus, O.P., S.T.M., M. A. (Oxford), D.Phil. (Oxford)
in medieval history. Fellow of the Royal Historical Society, Pro-
fessor Emeritus of the University of Malta, is Regent of Studies
at Blackfriars, Oxford, and Lecturer in Medieval Thought at the
University of Oxford. He is widely known in Europe as an authority
on thirteenth century Oxford and Paris.
William A. Wallace, 0. P., S. T. Lr., M. Sc. (Catholic Univ. of America)
in physics, Ph. D. (Fribourg) in philosophy, S. T. D. (Fribourg)
in moral theology, has research experience in magnetic and acoustic
field theory, and in ultrasonics. Author of The Scientific Methodology
521
522 NOTES ON OUR CONTRIBUTORS
of Theodoric of Freiberg, he is Professor of Natural Philosophy and
Philosophy of Science at the Dominican House of Studies, Dover,
Mass.
Michael A. Hoskin, M. A., Ph.D. (Cambridge) in mathematics, former
Fellow of Peterhouse, is Lecturer in the History of Science at the
University of Cambridge, England, and at Leicester. He has
recently become General Editor of the Newman Association History
and Philosophy of Science Series (Sheed & Ward) , to which he
contributed William Herschel, Pioneer of Sidereal Astronomy .
Charles de Koninck, Ph. D. (Louvain) in philosophy, formerly Dean
of the Faculty of Philosophy and editor of Laval Theologique et
Philosophique, is Professor of Natural Philosophy and Lecturer in
Theology at Laval University, Quebec, Canada. Widely known for
his publications in the philosophy of science, he is visiting Professor
of Philosophy at the University of Notre Dame.
Sheilah O'Flynn Brennan, Ph. D. (Laval) in philosophy, former Woodrow
Wilson Scholar at the University of Oxford, is Professor and Chair-
man of the Department of Philosophy at St. Mary's College, Notre
Dame.
Melvin Glutz, C.P., Ph.D. (Pont. Fac, River Forest) is Professor of
Philosophy and Student Master at the Passionist Monastery in
Chicago. He is author of various studies in psychology and The
Manner of Demonstration in Natural Philosophy.
Roman A. Kocourek, M. A. (Minnesota) in history, Ph. D. (Laval) in
philosophy, is Associate Professor of Philosophy at the College of
St. Thomas, and lecturer at St. Paul Seminary, St. Paul, Minnesota.
He is author of An Introduction to the Philosophy of Nature (St.
Paul, 1948).
Sister M. Joceyln Garey, 0. P., Ph. Lie. (Fribourg) , Ph. D. (Laval)
in philosophy, is Professor of Philosophy at Rosary College, River
Forest, HI.
Vincent E. Smith, M. A., Ph. D. (Catholic Univ.) in philosophy with
additional studies at Fribourg, Harvard, M. I. T. and Institutum
Divi Thomae, is editor of The New Scholasticism. Former President
of the American Catholic Philosophical Association, and widely
known for his books, he is Professor and Director of the Philosophy
of Science Institute at St. John's University, Jamaica, N. Y.
Raymond J. Nogar, O. P., S. T. Lr., Ph. D. (Pont. Fac, River Forest) ,
formerly lecturer in natural philosophy at the Pontifical Athenaeum
Angelicum, Rome, is Associate Professor of Philosophy and Lecturer
in Theoretical Biology at the Pontifical Faculty of Philosophy, River
NOTES ON OUR CONTRIBUTORS 52S
Forest. He is Executive Secretary of the Albertus Magnus Lyceum.
Sister Margaret Ann McDowell, O. P., M. A. (Ohio) in plant physi-
ology, M. S. (Institutum Divi Thomae) in bacteriology, Ph. D.
(Institutum Divi Thomae) in medical research, is Professor and
Chairman of the Department of Biology at the College of St. Mary
of the Springs, Columbus. She has written many scientific papers,
and at present she is engaged in cancer research.
Albert S. Moraczewski, O. P., S. T. Lr., Ph. D. (Chicago) in pharma-
cology, has been specializing in the pharmacological differences of
mitochondria from selected areas of the brain, carrying out his
researches in the Department of Psychiatry of Baylor University
College of Medicine at the Texas Medical Center in Houston. He
is now Research Specialist on the staff of the Houston State Psy-
chiatric Institute.
Michael E. Stock, O. P., S. T. Lr., (Washington) , Ph. D. (Angelicum) in
psychology, whose studies frequently appear in The Thomist, is
lecturer in psychology at the Dominican House of Studies, Dover,
Massachusetts.
Ambrose McNicholl, O. P., S.T.Lr., S. T. Lie. (Rome), Ph.D. Fri-
bourg) , is Professor of the History of Modem and Contemporary
Philosophy at the Pontifical Athenaeum Angelicum, Rome. He also
lectures on aesthetics at the Graduate School of Fine Art at Villa
SchifFanoia, Florence, and has contributed many articles to philo-
sophical journals.
Benedict M. Ashley, O. P., S. T. Lr., Ph. D. (Notre Dame) in sociology,
Ph. D. (Pont. Fac, River Forest) , is Professor of Philosophy in the
Pontifical Faculty of Philosophy at the Dominican House of Studies,
River Forest, and Dean of the Department of Philosophy at St.
Xavier College, Chicago.
Sister M. Olivia Barrett, R. S. M., M. S., Ph. D. (Notre Dame) in
chemistry, is Assistant Professor of Chemistry at Saint Xavier
College, Chicago. She has given much attention to the science
program in the Saint Xavier plan.
Patrick H. Yancey, S. J., M. A. (Gonzaga) , Ph. D. (St. Louis) in biology,
is Professor and Chairman of the Department of Biology at Spring
Hill College, Mobile. Formerly Member of the National Science
Foundation, he is on the editorial committee (for science) of the
New Catholic Encyclopedia, and Executive Secretary-Treasurer of
the Albertus Magnus Guild, which he founded.
THE WRITINGS OF FR. W. H. KANE, O. P.
(1929-19G0)
1929
" The Cause of Blessed Albert the Great," The Torch, XIV
(Nov. 1929), 20-23; (Dec. 1929), 10-11.
1935
" Hylemorphlsm and the Recent Views of the Constitution of
Matter," Proceedings Am. Cath. Phil. Assoc, XI (1935) ,
61-74.
1939
"Introduction to Philosophy," The Thomist, I (1939) , 193-212.
1944
"The Nature and Extent of Philosophy of Nature," The
Thomist, VII (1944) , 204-232.
1945
"The First Principles of Changeable Being," The Thomist,
VIII (1945) , 27-67.
1948
" The Nature of Sacred Doctrine," in Benziger Bros, edition
of St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica (New York,
1948) , vol. Ill, pp. 3085-93.
1949
" Ideals of Religious Life," Cross and Crown, I (1949) , 421-447.
1952
" Unification of the Natural Sciences," Main Currents in Mod-
ern Thought, IX (1952) , 115-117.
Comments on Fr. Leo A. Foley's " The Interplay of Art and
Nature in Physical Theory," Proceedings Am. Cath. Phil.
Assoc, XXVI (1952) , 140-146.
524
THE WRITINGS OF WILLIAM HUMBERT KANE, O. P. 52o
1953
Science in Synthesis. A Dialectical Approach to the Integration
of the Physical and Natural Sciences. With J. D. Corcoran,
B. M. Ashley and R. J. Nogar (River Forest: Dominican
College of St. Thomas, 1953) , 289 pp.
Review of Jacques Maritain's Philosophy of Nature, The
Thomist, XVI (1953), 127-131.
Review of Werner Heisenberg's Philosophic Problems of Natural
Science, The Thomist, XVI (1953) , 425-8.
Comments on Jude R. Nogar's " Nature, Deterministic or In-
deterministic? " Proceedings Am. Cath. Phil. Assoc,
XXVII (1953) , 104-9.
1954
" Abstraction and the Distinction of the Sciences," The
Thomist, XVII (1954) , 43-68.
Comments on Fr. James A. McWilliam's " The Finality of
Prime Matter," Proceedings Am. Cath. Phil. Assoc,
XXVIII (1954) , 170-75.
" St. Albert's Portrait of Mary," Cross and Crown, VI (1954) ,
293-306.
1955
" The Subject of Metaphysics," The Thomist, XVIII (1955) ,
503-521.
" Religious Obedience," Cross and Crown, VII (1955) , 39-59.
1956
" The Naturalistic Approach to Natural Science," The Thomist,
XIX (1959), 219-231.
" Outline of a Thomistic Critique of Knowledge," The New
Scholasticism, XXX (1956) , 181-197.
" Philosophy and Science," Bulletin of the Albertus Magnus
Guild, 3 Dec. 1956.
Review of Fr. Henry J. Koren's Introduction to the Philosophy
of Animate Nature, Cross and Crown, VIII (1956) ,
117-8.
520 THE WRITINGS OF WILLIAM HUMBERT KANE, O. P.
1957
" The Extent of Natural Philosophy," The New Scholasticism,
XXXI (1957) , 85-97.
"Introduction to Metaphysics," The Thomist, XX (1957),
121-142.
Review of S. Sambursky's Physical World of the Greeks and
M. D. Philippe's Initiation a la Philosophic d'Aristote,
The Thomist, XX (1957) , 370-74.
1958
" La Causa Finale nella Scienza: II Methodo Scientifico nella
Biologia secondo Alberto Magno," Sapienza, II (1958) ,
376-389.
" Aristotle's Proof of the Unmoved Mover," Fundamental Sci-
ence (Chicago: St. Xavier College, 1958) .
" The Assumption," Ave Maria, Aug. 2, 1958.
1959
" The Virtue of Obedience," Proceedings of the XII Annual
Convention, The Catholic Theological Society of America,
(1959), 142-3.
Review of Fr. Herman Reith's The Metaphysics of St. Thomas
Aquinas, The Neiv Scholasticism, XXXIII (1959) , 252-4.
Review of Fr. Louis Rasolo's Le Dilemme du Concours Divin,
The Thomist, XXII (1959) , 556-62.
1960
" Reasons for the Facts of Organic Life," Philosophy of Science,
I (Jamaica: St. John's University, 1960) , pp. 51-67.
"Evolution and Modem Man," Science, CXXXI (1960),
1820-21.
" Science and Philosophy," Bulletin of the Albertus Magnus
Guild, VIII (1960) , 3-5.
Review of Arthur Koestler's The Sleepwalkers, The New
Scholasticism, XXXIV (1960) , 380-82.
, the Month of Joseph and Mary," Triune, VII (1960) ,
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