THE PRINCIPLES OF REAL BEING.
II.
EXTRINSIC PRINCIPLES OF BEING.
As in chemistry, so also in metaphysics, the labor and difficulty attending the analysis of complex things is proportional to the degree of their complexity. Hence in the search after the principles of real being, which we are about to make, we judge it expedient, for the greater convenience and satisfaction of our philosophical readers, to start from the principles of the most simple among the subjects of metaphysical analysis—that is, from the principles of primitive beings.
By "primitive" being we mean a being not made up of other beings, but "strictly one in its entity"—unum per se in ratione entis—and therefore having nothing of which it can be deprived without ceasing to be altogether.
It is to be observed that a primitive being may be conceived to exist either contingently or through the necessity of its own nature. Of course, a being which exists through the necessity of its own nature is perfectly independent of all extrinsic things, as it contains in its own nature the adequate reason of its being, and therefore admits of no extrinsic principles of any kind. But a being which exists contingently is a being which has not within itself the adequate reason of its existence; whence it follows that its existence cannot be accounted for but by recourse to some extrinsic principle or principles. As the knowledge of extrinsic principles is calculated to throw much light also on the intrinsic constitution of primitive contingent beings, let us make such principles the subject of our first investigation.
We affirm that the extrinsic principles of every primitive contingent being are three; for to the question, "Whence any such being proceeds," three different answers can be given, and three only.
First, we can assign the reason why, or the end for the sake of which, a being has been made to exist.
Secondly, we can point out the agency through which a being has been made to exist.
Thirdly, and lastly, we can mention the term out of which a being has been brought into existence.
These three principles virtually contain the whole theory of creation. If we were now writing for unbelievers, we would be obliged to commence by establishing some preliminary truths, such as God's existence, the contingency of the world, and the philosophical impossibility of accounting for its origin without recourse to the dogma of creation. But as our habitual readers are presumed to be sufficiently instructed about these fundamental truths, we think we may here dispense with a direct demonstration of the same, and avoid a digression which would lead us too far from the subject now under examination. As, however, this article may possibly fall into the hands of some dupe of modern infidelity, we propose to make a few incidental remarks on their usual objections, and to lay down, before we conclude, some of the arguments by which unbelievers can be convinced of the absolute truth of what we now assume as the ground of our explanations.
We assume, then, that there is a Creator, a God, a being infinitely intelligent and infinitely powerful, eternal, and independent. Such a being, as infinitely perfect, is infinitely happy, and experiences no need whatever of anything outside of himself. He therefore does not create anything, unless he freely wills; nor wills he anything, unless it is for some good which he freely intends; for nothing but good can be the object of volition. Now, the only good which God in his infinite wisdom can freely intend is the exterior manifestation of his divine perfections. It is, therefore, for this end that creatures were brought into existence.
Our first answer to the question above proposed points out this final principle of creation—that is, the manifestation of God's perfections in such a degree and manner as he himself was pleased freely to determine. To attain this end, it is obvious that God was obliged to bestow upon his creatures such a degree of reality as would enable them to show in themselves and in their finite perfections a finite image, and, so to say, a reflex of the perfections of their Creator. Hence the final principle, on which the existence of contingent beings originally depends, comprises not only the manifestation of God's perfections in a determinate degree, but also, and more immediately, the bestowal of a proportionate degree of entity upon creatures, that they may carry on such a manifestation according to the design of their Creator. Thus the ultimate end of creation is indeed God's glory, or the manifestation of his perfections; but the proximate end of creation, and that which is immediately obtained in the very act of creation, is the existence of the created things with that degree of reality and with those endowments which make them fit instruments for the aforesaid manifestation. Accordingly, when asked whence a primitive contingent being proceeds, our first answer must be that it proceeds from God's design of showing his existence and infinite perfection by communicating contingent existence and finite perfections outside of himself.
Let us here take notice that "modern thought" ignores final principles altogether, and pretends that arguments from design have no value in science. In this pretension we unmistakably recognize the materialistic propensities and the lack of philosophical reasoning by which our age is afflicted. When our modern sages will prove that creation does not proceed from a will, or that a will can act without an object, then they will be entitled to the honor of a serious refutation. As it is, their negative position is sufficiently refuted by a simple appeal to common sense.
To those who, without denying final causes, maintain that we cannot ascertain them, nor make them an object of science, we reply that, although we do not know all the particular ends which each creature may be destined to fulfil, we nevertheless know perfectly well the general end of creation. Now, nothing more is needed for establishing the reality of the first extrinsic principle on which the existence of every contingent being depends.
Our second answer points out the efficient principle of creation—that is, God's omnipotent power. Rationalists and materialists have tried to do away with this most necessary principle. Besides the old pagan assumption of self-existent matter, which many of them adopted in order to supersede the necessity of a creator, they have tried to popularize other inventions of more recent thinkers, who for the God of the Bible have substituted what they style the Absolute, and pretend that what we call "contingent beings" are mere apparitions of the Absolute—that is, the Absolute manifesting itself. Without stopping here to refute such a strange theory, we shall content ourselves with observing that what is altogether absolute is intrinsically unmodifiable—a truth which needs no demonstration, as it immediately results from the comparison of the two terms; whence it follows that, if the Absolute wishes to manifest itself, it cannot do so by assuming any new form, but only by means of something extraneous to its own nature, and consequently through the instrumentality of some being produced by it, perfectly distinct from it, and which may admit of such modifications as we witness everywhere around us, and as we know to be irreconcilable with the nature of the Absolute. This suffices to show that no apparition or manifestation of the Absolute can be conceived without implying an exertion of efficient power.[182] We say, then, in our second answer, that it is through divine omnipotence that contingent beings were actually brought into existence by such a communication of reality as was proportionate to the design of their Creator. In other terms, God's omnipotent power is the efficient principle of all primitive contingent being.
Our third answer points out the terminus ex quo of creation—that is, the term out of which every contingent being is primarily educed. Such a term is mere nothingness; for whatever primarily begins to exist must come out of absolute non-existence. It is against this that our modern pseudo-philosophers most loudly protest, as they stoutly proclaim that "nothing comes out of nothing"—ex nihilo nihil fit. We may well smile at their useless protestation; for the fact is that nothing is ever brought into existence but from its contrary—that is, from its non-existence. It would be vain to object that, to build a house or a ship, materials are needed. Of course they are needed, but a house is a compound, not a primitive, being; and to build a house is not to produce the house, but only to effect the artistic arrangement of its materials. Now, undoubtedly, before the house is built, such an arrangement has no existence. The only thing, therefore, that the builder efficiently produces springs out of non-existence. We fully admit that a physical compound cannot be made up without materials—viz., without pre-existent components—but, to be sure, the first components do not themselves depend on other components, because the first components are primitive beings, and, as such, cannot be made of any pre-existing material. Yet they must have been made, since they exist and are contingent; and, if made of no pre-existing material, certainly brought out of nothing.
But as our readers need none of our arguments to be convinced of a truth of which they are already in possession, we will set aside all further discussion on this subject, and conclude, from the preceding remarks, that when we are asked whence a contingent being originally comes, our last answer must be that it comes out of nothing as the term of its eduction. Nothingness, in this case, holds the place of the material principle, which is wanting.
It is clear, then, that all primitive contingent beings can, and must, be traced to three extrinsic principles. This doctrine contains nothing difficult, far-fetched, or mysterious, and its great simplicity proves that metaphysics, after all, may be less frightfully abstruse than some people are apt to believe. This same doctrine is also the universal doctrine of all philosophers who did not lose themselves in the dreams of visionary systems. It is true that they do not always mention, as formally as we do, the final object of creation as a distinct principle; but they do not deny it. In treating of the origin of things, they usually consider the final and the efficient principle of creation as a single adequate principle, on the ground that finality and efficiency, viewed absolutely as they are in God, are but one and the same thing. They also omit very frequently the mention of the term out of which things are educed, not because they do not acknowledge it, but because they know that it has no positive causality. Nevertheless, a little reflection will show that such a course is not the best calculated to give a distinct idea of the principiation of things; on the contrary, the very nature of the metaphysical process demands that each of the three extrinsic principles be kept in view very distinctly and explicitly.
We admit, of course, that the final and the efficient principle of creation, viewed absolutely as they are in God, are really and entitatively the same thing; but we consider that the intention, or volition of the end, has its connection with created beings, not on account of its absolute entity, which is necessary, but on account of its extrinsic termination, which is contingent; for, evidently, no act can be conceived as the principle of a being, except inasmuch as it is connected with the same being. Accordingly, God's volition is the principle of things, not inasmuch as it is an absolute act, entitatively necessary, but inasmuch as it is an act having a contingent termination. On the other hand, God's infinite power must indeed be conceived as connoting an infinity of beings that can be created, but is not conceivable as connoting determinate beings that will be created, unless something be found that connects it especially with the same determinate beings. Now, what is it that connects God's omnipotence with any determinate being which is to be created but his volition of a contingent determinate object—that is, his volition as having a contingent termination? Omnipotence, therefore, acquires a special connection with a determinate contingent being only on account of the extrinsic termination of divine volition; and thus divine omnipotence and divine volition have, under this consideration, a kind of relative opposition, on account of which the one that induces the special connection is to be distinguished from the other that acquires it.
Moreover, in the investigation of first principles we must continue our analysis as far as we can—that is, until we reach the ultimate terms into which the subject of our investigation can be resolved. Now, it is evident that omnipotence, as freely connected with the production of a determinate being, is not the ultimate term of analysis; for we can go further, and assign the reason of that free connection—viz., the actual volition of an end. Hence the final and the efficient principle of creation, though not really distinct in God, afford a real ground for two distinct concepts, and are to be considered as two distinct extrinsic principles with respect to all created things.
The third extrinsic principle—that is, the term out of which contingent beings are originally educed—is very frequently overlooked as irrelevant, because it has no reality. We are of opinion that it should be kept in view by all means, and prominently too, for many reasons which will be hereafter explained, and especially for the easier refutation of pantheism. Such a term has, indeed, no reality; but it is not necessary that all the extrinsic principles of being should be realities. Common sense teaches, on the contrary, that when a thing is to be first brought into existence, it is necessary that it should pass from its non-being into being; whence it is manifest that its non-being is the proper term out of which it has to be educed. Now, the non-being of a thing is its nothingness; and, therefore, its nothingness is the proper term out of which it must be educed. For the same reason, the schoolmen uniformly taught with Aristotle that privation also was to be ranked among the principles of things, although privations are not positive beings;[183] and therefore the nothingness of the term from which creatures are educed is no objection to its being placed among the extrinsic principles of contingent beings.
As, however, that which is looked upon as a principle is always conceived to connote the thing principiated, and, on the other hand, absolute nothingness has no such connotation (for connotation is virtual relativity, and cannot spring from nothing), it follows that nothingness, when conceived as a term out of which a being is educed, is to be looked upon, not as an absolute negation of being, but as a negation out of which divine omnipotence, by the production of an act, brings the creature into being. In other terms, nothingness is to be considered, under God's hand, as a negative potency of something real, which can be actuated; and, with regard to any individual reality, as the potency of that individual reality. When viewed in this manner, nothingness assumes a relative aspect, in opposition to that reality of which it is the potency, and thus becomes apt to connote that same reality, in the same way as silence connotes talk, darkness light, absence presence, informity form. Hence we took care to say that a thing is brought into being out of its non-being; because, as the fool only by divesting himself of his foolishness can grow wise, so a reality which is to come out of nothing—say, a point of matter—cannot be educed out of the non-being of an angel or of any other thing, but only out of its own non-being. Consequently, non-being, or nothingness, as the term out of which a point of matter is to be educed, means nothing but the potency of that real point; and thus nothingness, under the hand of the Omnipotent, acquires, in regard to that which is educed out of it, that relativity which is sufficient to make it a principle, according to the nature and manner of its principiation.
Some may ask why, among the extrinsic principles of things, we did not mention God's archetypal ideas; for it seems that, when we are asked whence a contingent being primarily proceeds, we might answer by pointing out God's ideas as the patterns to which creatures must conform, and by saying that things primarily proceed from the divine ideas as from their archetypal principle; and if this answer—which is by no means absurd—be admitted, the extrinsic principles of contingent beings will be four, and not three.
But it is to be observed that God's ideas precede all decrees concerning creation, and are the archetypes not only of all the things that are created, but of all the things also which will never be created; and, therefore, God's ideas have, of themselves, no connection with the existence of contingent beings, but only with their intelligibility. Hence we may argue in the following manner: The extrinsic principiation of a contingent being cannot be traced back to any special principle prior to that which is the first reason of their creation. But God's ideas are prior to God's volition, which is the first reason of creation; therefore, the principiation of contingent beings cannot be traced back to divine ideas as a special extrinsic principle.
Nevertheless, since God cannot intend to create anything but according to his own idea of it, we must own that the divine ideas share in the causality of things, inasmuch as such ideas are implied in the volition of producing the objects they represent; and though, of themselves, they are not a distinct and special principle of creation, yet, as included in the Creator's volition, they make up the whole plan of creation, and thus they have a bearing on the nature, number, and order of all created things.
Such is the doctrine which we find in S. Thomas' Theological Summa, where he explains how God's ideas are the cause of things. "God's ideas," says he, "are to all created things what the artist's ideas are to the works of art. The artist's ideas are the cause of a work of art, inasmuch as the artist acts through his understanding; hence the form or idea which is in his understanding must be the principle of his operation, in the same manner as heat is the principle of the heating. But it must be remarked that a natural form is a principle of operation, not inasmuch as it is the permanent form of the thing to which it gives existence, but inasmuch as it has a leaning towards an effect. And in a similar manner the form which is in the understanding is a principle of action, not inasmuch as it is in the understanding simply, but inasmuch as it acquires, through the will, a leaning towards an effect; for an intellectual form is not more connected with the existence than with the non-existence of the thing of which it is the form (since one and the same is the science of contraries); and, therefore, such a form cannot produce a determinate effect, unless it be brought into connection with one of the two contraries; which is done by the will. Now, God, as we know, causes all things through his understanding, for his understanding is his being; and, therefore, his science, as united with his will, must be the cause of all things."[184]
It might be here objected that if, for the reason just alleged, archetypal ideas are not to be considered a distinct principle of creation, then neither can omnipotence be considered as a distinct principle; for as archetypal ideas do not principiate anything unless through free volition, so, also, omnipotence principiates nothing but in consequence of the same volition; and, therefore, if archetypal ideas on this account are not a distinct principle of things, on the same account omnipotence cannot be taken as a distinct principle.
To this we answer that the assumed parity has no legs to stand on. That archetypal ideas are not a distinct principle of creation was proved above, not simply by arguing that they cannot principiate anything independently of free volition, but by showing that it is not from them, but from the volition alone, that the real principiation of things begins. Now, this proof applies to ideas, but not to omnipotence. In fact, ideas, even in God, must be conceived as having a certain priority with respect to volitions; for it is true, even in God, that nothing is willed which is not foreknown—nihil est volitum, quin præcognitum. If, therefore, God's ideas were a distinct principle of creation, there would be something in God, prior to his will, which would entail the existence of created beings; which is impossible to admit so long as we maintain that God's will must remain free in its extrinsic operations. We cannot, therefore, admit, without absurdity, that the archetypal ideas constitute a distinct principle of things. But, as to divine omnipotence, no such absurdity is to be feared; for God's omnipotence has no priority with respect to God's will; and thus the above argument cannot be used to prove that omnipotence is not a distinct principle of creation.
We conclude that the extrinsic principles, to which the first origin of contingent beings is to be traced, are not fewer, and not more, than three. Our Catholic readers will be satisfied, we hope, that this conclusion has been fairly established on what they know to be secure foundations. Infidels, of course, will object; for they will think that the whole of our discussion has been based on hypothetical grounds. In fact, we have supposed that there are "primitive" beings, that they are "contingent," that they need "a creator," and that the creator must be an "infinite being," a god. If a Comtist or a materialist happens to read the preceding pages, he will surely say that we have built nothing but a cob-house. But we do not care much what may be objected by such a class of frivolous and unreasonable philosophers. We know that their favorite theories have been a hundred times exploded, and their futile objections a hundred times answered. When a foe is defeated, what is the use of prolonging the contest? And when noonday light is dazzling the world, what need is there of lighting candles? Let them, therefore, only open their eyes, if they really want light. There is no scarcity of good philosophical works, which, if consulted by them in a spirit of candor, will afford them all the light that a man can reasonably desire for the full attainment of truth.
Yet the solidity of the ground on which we have taken our stand may be established in a very few words.
That there are contingent beings is quite certain; for nothing which necessarily exists is liable to change or modification. But all that surrounds us in this world is liable to change and modification; therefore, nothing that surrounds us in this world necessarily exists. Accordingly, all that we see in this world exists contingently.
That contingent beings are either primitive or made up of primitive beings is, again, a well-known fact; for all being which is not primitive is a compound, and can be traced to its first physical components—that is, to the first elements of its composition. But the first elements of composition cannot possibly be made up of other elements, and accordingly must be primitive beings. Therefore, primitive beings exist everywhere, at least (if nowhere else) in all the compounds of which they are the first physical components.
That every primitive contingent being must have had its origin from without is a plain truth; for that which has no origin from without must have the adequate reason of its existence from within; and, therefore, it carries in its essence the necessity of its existence. But evidently contingent and changeable beings do not carry within their essence the necessity of their existence; therefore, contingent beings must have had their origin from without.
That every such being must have come out of nothing is not less evident; for a primitive being cannot possibly come out of pre-existent beings as its material principles. It must, therefore, be produced either out of God's substance or out of nothing. But not out of God's substance, for divine substance is not susceptible of contingent forms; therefore, out of nothing—that is, by creation properly.
Lastly, that the Creator is an eternal, infinite being can be easily proved, independently of many other arguments, by the following general theorem, to which modern philosophers are invited to pay close attention. The theorem is this: All efficient cause is infinitely more perfect, and of an infinitely better nature, than any of its effects. If this proposition be true, it immediately follows that the Creator of the universe is infinitely more perfect than the whole universe, and has a nature infinitely better, nobler, and higher than that of any contingent being, and therefore is a necessary and independent being, the supreme being—God. Let us, then, demonstrate our theorem.
It is a known and incontrovertible truth that every efficient cause eminently contains in itself (that is, possesses in an eminent degree) all the perfection which it can efficiently communicate to any number of effects; and it can be proved, moreover, that the efficiency of a cause is never exhausted, and not even weakened, by its exertions, however long continued and indefinitely multiplied. The earth, after having for centuries exerted its attractive power and caused the fall of innumerable bodies, has preserved to this day the same power whole and undiminished, and is still acting, with its primitive energy, on any number of bodies, just as it did at the time of its creation. Our soul is not exhausted or weakened by its operations; but, after having made any number of judgments, reasonings, or any other mental actions, still retains the whole energy and perfection of its faculties without waste, effeteness, or decay. A molecule of oxygen, after having for ages, either free in the air or confined in water or in other compounds, produced such a number of effects as bewilders and beats all power of imagination, retains yet its efficient causality as entire and unimpaired as if it were of quite recent creation. These facts show that the efficient cause suffers no loss whatever by the exertion of its power, and therefore is fully equal to the production of an endless multitude of effects.
Some may say that this conclusion cannot be universal, as we see that natural forces are very often exhausted by exertion. We answer that, when natural forces are said to be exhausted, the efficient powers from which those forces result remain as intact and as active as before. We say, indeed, that a man or a horse is exhausted by fatigue; that our brain, after hours of mental work, needs rest to recover its lost energy, and many other such things; but, in all such cases, what we call exhaustion is not a diminution of efficient power in the agents from the concurrence of which the natural forces result, but either the actual disappearance (by respiration, perspiration, etc.) of a number of those agents, or a perturbance of the arrangements and conditions necessary for their united conspiration towards the production of a determinate effect. Natural force, in the sense of the objection, is a combination of agents and of efficient powers, which produce their effect by many concurrent actions giving a different resultant under different conditions; and as any given effect proximately depends on the resultant of such actions, the same powers, though unaltered in themselves, must, under different conditions, give rise to different effects. Take a car and four horses. If the horses act all in the same direction, the car will move easily enough; but if two of the horses act in one direction, and two in the other, the result will be very different. Yet the powers applied to the car are in both cases the same. Again, take an army of fifty thousand men facing the enemy. If the men are well arranged so as to present a good line of battle, the action of the army will be strong; but if the men are disorderly scattered, the action will be weak, though the men are the same and their powers and exertions undiminished. Now, all bodies and all complex causes are in the same case; which is evident from the fact that with all of them a favorable change of conditions, all other things remaining the same, is always attended by an increase of the effect. Therefore, the so-called exhaustion of natural forces is not a diminution of the efficient powers of which they are the result, but a state of things in which the same active powers are exerted in a different manner, or have to perform a different work, according to the different conditions to which they are actually subjected. We therefore repeat that efficient causes suffer no loss whatever by the exertion of their efficient powers, and that consequently they are fully equal to the production of an infinite multitude of effects; and since every efficient cause, as we have premised, must contain within itself, in an eminent manner, the whole perfection which it can communicate to its effects, we are forced to conclude that the nature of every efficient cause infinitely transcends in perfection the nature of its effects.
The theorem could be further confirmed by considering that all the acts produced by efficient causes of the natural order, either spiritual or material, are mere accidents, whereas the causes themselves are substances; and it is manifest that the nature of substance infinitely transcends the nature of accident.
It might be confirmed, again, by another very simple consideration. The efficient cause does not communicate any portion of itself to its effect.[185] In fact, efficient causation is production; and production is not a transfusion, translocation, or emanation of a pre-existing thing, but the origination of a new entity which had no previous formal existence. It follows that the efficient cause, while producing an effect, retains its entire entity, and therefore is never exhausted. Thus a syllogism is not a portion of the mind that makes it; and the making of it leaves intact the substance and the faculty from which it proceeds. Thus, also, the actual momentum of a falling body is not a portion of the terrestrial power by which it is produced; the power remains whole and undiminished in the substance of the earth, as already remarked, always ready to produce any number of changes, and always unchanged in itself. This is the reason why every efficient cause infinitely transcends the nature of its effects.
Our theorem is, then, demonstrated both by facts and by intrinsic reasons. We are confident that all honest philosophers, no matter how much their intellectual vision may have been distorted by false doctrines, will see their way to the right conclusion, and confess the absolute necessity of an independent, self-existent, infinite Creator, from whom all beauty, goodness, and perfection proceed, and to whom all creatures—philosophers not excepted—owe allegiance, honor, and glory.
TO BE CONTINUED.
FOOTNOTES:
[181] Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by Rev. I. T. Hecker, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
[182] This argument could be employed against all other forms of pantheism; but we must abstain at present from the discussion of particular systems, as we cannot deal fairly with them within the narrow compass of a single article.
As for self-existent matter, we need only say that nothing which can receive new determinations is self-existent; and since matter receives new determinations, therefore matter is not self-existent. Hence the conception of eternal and uncreated matter cannot be styled a philosophical opinion, but only a dream of unreflecting or uneducated minds.
[183] The Aristotelic meaning of the word privation will be easily understood from the following example: If a cylindrical piece of wax be made to assume a spherical form, the sphericity will be educed, as the schools say, from the cylindrical wax, not inasmuch as it is cylindrical, but inasmuch as it is non-spherical. Such a non-sphericity is a privation, which is more than a negation, as it implies not only the absence of sphericity, but also the presence of its contrary—that is, of the cylindrical form. Privation is usually defined carentia formæ in subjecto apto. It is a principle per accidens.
[184] We give the original text: Sic enim scientia Dei se habet ad omnes res creatas, sicut scientia artificis se habet ad artificiata. Scientia autem artificis est causa artificiatorum, eo quod artifex operatur per suum intellectum. Unde oportet quod forma intellectus sit principium operationis, sicut calor est principium calefactionis. Sed considerandum est, quod forma naturalis, in quantum est forma manens in eo cui dat esse, non nominat principium actionis, sed secundum quod habet inclinationem ad effectum. Et similiter forma intelligibilis non nominat principium actionis secundum quod est tantum in intelligente, nisi adjungatur ei inclinatio ad effectum, quæ est per voluntatem. Quum enim forma intelligibilis ad opposita se habeat (quum eadem sit scientia oppositorum) non produceret determinatum effectum, nisi determinaretur ad unum per appetitum, ut dicitur in 9. Metaph. Manifestum est autem quod Deus per intellectum suum causat res, quum suum esse sit suum intelligere; unde necesse est quod sua scientia sit causa rerum secundum quod habet voluntatem conjunctam (p. 1, q. 14, a. 8).
[185] Parents, however, communicate a portion of their substance to their offspring. The reason is that parents are not only the efficient, but also the material, cause of their offspring. As material causes, they supply the matter of which the fœtus will be formed; but, as efficient causes, they only put the conditions required by nature for the organization of this matter. The position of such conditions is an accidental action as well as the subsequent organization. Therefore, parents, as efficient causes, produce nothing but accidental acts. The matter of which the fœtus is formed is, of course, all pre-existing.
DANTE'S PURGATORIO.
CANTO TWELFTH.
Paired, like two oxen treading under yoke,
That burdened soul and I as far had gone
As the loved Tutor let. But when he spoke
These words: "Now leave him! We must travel on,
For here 'tis good with spread of sail and stroke
Of oar, to push his boat as each best may;"
I made myself, as walking needs, erect,
But only in body; just it is to say
My thoughts were bowed, my spirit was deject.
Still I was moving, and with willing feet
Followed my Master; both began to show
How light we were, when thus he said: "'Tis meet
That, walking here, thou bend thine eyes below,
So to observe, and make the moments fleet,
Over what kind of bed thy footsteps go."
Even as, that so their memory may survive,
Our earthly tombs, above the buried, bear
The graven form of what they were alive;
Whence oft one weeps afresh the image there,
Pricked by remembrance,—which doth only give
To souls compassionate a sting of pain—
So I saw figured o'er, but with more skill
In the resemblance, all the narrow plain
Which formed our pathway, jutting from the hill.
Him[186] there I marked, on one side, noblest made
Of all God's creatures, stricken down from heaven
Like lightning! Opposite, there was displayed
Briareus, cast from where he late had striven,
Smit by celestial thunderbolts, and laid
Heavy on earth and in the frost of death.
I saw Thymbræus, Pallas too, and Mars,
Still armed, around their sire, with bated breath
Viewing the giants, their torn limbs and scars!
Nimrod I saw, at foot of his great tower,
As if bewildered, gazing on the tribes
That showed with him such haughtiness of power
In Shinar's plain, as Genesis describes.
O Niobe! with what eyes, full of woe,
Mid thy slain children, upon each hand seven,
I saw thee carved upon the road! And, O
Saul! in Gilboa, that no more from heaven
Felt rain or dew, how dead on thine own sword
Didst thou appear! Thee, mad Arachne, there
I saw, half spider! fumbling the deplored
Shreds of that work which wrought for thee despair
O Rehoboam! there no more in threat
Stands thy fierce figure; smit with fear he flies,
Whirled in a chariot, none pursuing yet:
Showed also that hard pavement to mine eyes
How young Alcmæon made his mother sell
With life the luckless ornament she wore
How, in the temple, on Sennacherib fell
The sons, and left his corpse there on the floor.
The cruel carnage and the wreck it showed
Which Tomyris made, when she to Cyrus cried:
Blood thou didst thirst for! now I give thee blood;
And showed th' Assyrians flying far and wide
In utter rout, with Holofernes dead,
And all the slaughter that befell beside,
And the grim carcase by the bloody bed.
Troy next I saw, an ashy, caverned waste:
O Ilion! how vile the work showed thee
Which there is graven,—how utterly abased!
What master of pencil or of stile[187] was he
Who so those traits and figures could have traced
That subtlest wit had been amazed thereby?
Alive the living seemed, and dead the dead!
Who saw the truth no better saw than I,
While bowed I went, all underneath my tread.
Now swell with pride, and on with lofty stalk,
Children of Eve! nor bend your visage aught
So to behold the sinful way ye walk.
More of the mountain than my busied thought
Had been aware of we had rounded now,
And much more of his course the sun had spent;
When he, who still went first with watchful brow,
Exclaimed: "Look up!—to accomplish our ascent
Time no more suffers to proceed so slow.
See yonder angel hastening on his way
To come towards us! and from her service, lo!
The sixth returning handmaid of the day.
Give to thy mien the grace of reverence, then,
That he may joy to marshal us above.
Think thus: this day will never dawn again."
I had so often felt his words reprove
My slowness, warning me to lose no time,
That on this point I read his dark words right.
With sparkling face, as glows at rosy prime
The tremulous morning star, and robed in white,
That being of beauty moved towards us, and said,
Opening his arms and then his pinions wide,
"Come, here the steps are!—easy to the tread
And close at hand: now upward ye may glide."
But very few obey this Angel's call:
O human race! born high on wings to soar,
Why at a little breath do ye so fall?
He brought us where the rock a pass revealed
Hewn out, his pinions on my forehead beat
And with his promise my safe-going sealed.
As, to the right, in climbing to the seat
Of the fair church[188] that looketh lordly down
Over the bridge that bears the name this day
Of Rubaconte, on the well-ruled town,[189]
The sharp ascent is broken by a way
Of stairs constructed in the old time, ere
Fraud was in measure and in ledger found;
Thus the steep bank is graduated there
Which falls abruptly from the other round:
On either side the tall rock grazes though.
As we turned thitherward, were voices heard,
Beati pauperes spiritu! singing so
As might not be exprest by any word.
Ah! these approaches—how unlike to Hell's!
With chant of anthems one makes entrance here;
Down there with agony's ferocious yells.
Now, as we climb, the sacred stairs appear
More easy than the plain had seemed before:
Wherefore I thus began: "O Master! say,
What heavy load is tak'n from me? No more
I feel that weariness upon my way."
"When every P, upon thy temples traced,
Almost obliterate now," he answered me,
"Shall be, like this one, totally erased,
So by right will thy feet shall vanquished be,
That they not only no fatigue shall know,
But ev'n with pleasure shall be forward sped."
Then did I like as men do when they go
Unweeting what they carry on their head,
Till signs from some one their suspicion waking,
The assistant hand its own assurance tries,
And seeks and findeth, such discovery making
As may not be afforded by the eyes.
Spreading my right-hand fingers, I could find
Six[190] letters only of the seven which he
Who bore the keys had on my forehead signed:
Observing which, my Master smiled on me.
FOOTNOTES:
[186] Lucifer.
[187] Stile here means a sculptor's tool, and not a writer's style.
[188] This is the well-known church of S. Miniato, which every boy who has been to Florence must well remember.
[189] Florence, in irony.
[190] The Angel, sitting at the gate of Purgatory, had described (as the readers of the Ninth Canto may remember, v. 112) the letter P seven times with the point of his sword on the forehead of Dante, in sign of the seven deadly sins,—Peccata—one of which, and Dante's worst, the sin of pride, now vanishes from his soul as the letter fades from his forehead.