The Catholic World, Vol. 17, April, 1873 to September, 1873 / A Monthly Magazine of General Literature and Science

by Various

The old division of this science into rational, real, and moral, which we find to have been given by Plato,[147] is drawn from the inmost nature of things and the very constitution of philosophy. Everything that is perfect, whether it has an existence in the fields of reality, or only in the region of thought, is found to involve in its constitution, 1, something competent to give a certain determination; 2, some other thing liable to receive such a determination; 3, some third thing which is the immediate result of the concurrence of the other two. That which gives a determination is called the “formal” constituent of the thing; that which receives such a determination is called the “material” constituent of the same thing; finally, that which results is called the “formal complement,” and is the actual constitution or the very actuality of the thing thus constituted. Thus, for example, the human soul, inasmuch as it gives life to the human body, is the formal constituent of man; the organic body, inasmuch as it receives life through the soul, is his material constituent; and actual conscious life, which is the immediate result of the concurrence of soul and body in one compound nature, is the actuality of the being thus constituted, and makes it formally complete in its individual reality.

Now, philosophy is similarly made up of three such constituents. The formal constituent and, as it were, the soul of philosophy (and of all other sciences, too) is logic, or rational philosophy. Its duty is to impress a kind of rational stamp on the objects of science by applying to them the process of definition, division, and argumentation, which is the scientific process, and constitutes the “form” of science. For this reason, logic holds that place in regard to any object of science which the soul holds in regard to its body, and is therefore to be considered as the formal constituent of philosophy.

The material part, or the body, of philosophy is “all real being as such,” or, in other terms, all the subject-matter of metaphysics, or real philosophy; for metaphysics is nothing but the knowledge of real things acquired through the consideration of their intrinsic constitution; hence, all reality, be it created or uncreated, matter or spirit, substance or accident, is the “material” constituent of philosophy inasmuch as it is subjected to the scientific form by the application made to it of the logical process. The objective truth of things, so long as it is not subjected to the searching scrutiny of speculative reasoning, mostly belongs to the lower region of experimentalism, which scarcely deserves, though it has usurped, the high name of science; but, when pervaded by intellectual light, rises suddenly as vivified by it, and takes up its place in the serene region of metaphysics, where it shows itself in all the glory of its ontological beauty. Hence it is that metaphysics may be compared to a living body, of which logic is the soul.

Finally, by the application of logic to objective realities, namely, by the study of metaphysics, a wonderful bond is established between the rational faculty and objective truth, the first getting hold of the second, and the second reacting after its own manner on the first; so that reason, enlightened by objective truth, knows how to pronounce a right judgment on the merit of things, and in its natural rectitude feels compelled to give them that relative place in its estimation to which each of them is reasonably entitled. As the soul, therefore, owing to its intimate connection with the body, “feels” what suits or suits, not the requirement of the animated organism, and is pleased with the one, and displeased with the other, so also reason, owing to its clear possession of objective truth, “perceives” what agrees and what clashes with: the objective order of things, and, with the authority of a judge, pronounces its sentence that the first must be approved, and the second condemned. Such dictates of reason form the object of moral philosophy; and it is through them that the moral law is naturally communicated and promulgated to all rational creatures.

Hence, it is evident that the knowledge of morality is the result of an intellectual knowledge of the real nature of things, and of their intrinsic perfection, exigencies, and manifold relations. Hence, also, the conclusion that the rational, the real, and the moral order, though distinct objects of knowledge, are so bound together in one general science that it would be scarcely possible to speak of the one without referring to the other. Hence, finally, the further conclusion that the greater the importance of a true and thorough knowledge of morality, the more stringent is the necessity of securing to it the foundation of good, sound, and intelligible metaphysics. To neglect the latter would be to tamper with the most vital interests of the former.

Perhaps I might go even further, and say that what we need just now is not so much a new book of logic or of ethics as of metaphysics. A good metaphysical work is the surest foundation both of a good logic and of a good moral philosophy. The laws of thought and the laws of morality must be explained in accordance with the laws of real being; and the better we understand these last, the more truly conversant shall we become with the first. Besides, with respect to logic and ethics, we have no new doctrines to teach, whilst in metaphysics we have to settle a number of old and new questions regarding the constitution of natural things, and their causality, and their mutual connection, as we find that such questions are not satisfactorily treated either by the ancient metaphysicians or by our modern unphilosophical physicists. Such questions regard, as I said, natural things; but their solution has a bearing on many other philosophical doctrines, because it materially effects the terminology by which those doctrines are to be expounded.

I do not wish, nor would this be the place, to enter into particulars with regard to the method which might be followed in the treatment of different philosophical subjects; yet I think it worth remarking in general that the fewer the principles on which a philosopher shall build his reasonings, the more clear, uniform, and satisfactory will his demonstrations generally prove; and, on the other hand, in proportion as these principles shall be higher, the fewer will be needed. This leads me to believe that one of the best means which could be made available for the much-desired success of the undertaking would be to take our standpoint as high as possible (according to the very nature of philosophy, which is scientia per summas causas), and to base our demonstrations on the very first constituent principles of being. Looking down from such a height, we could easily dissipate the vague phantasmagory, and control the dangerous influences of many other so-called principles or axioms whose intrusion into the body of philosophy is due to ignorance or wrong interpretation of the facts and laws of the physical world. It is through these assumed principles that a very lamentable discord has been fostered and perpetuated between the votaries of physics, on the one hand, and those of metaphysics, on the other; and it is through the same cause, that even now the same student, after learning one thing as true in his class of metaphysics, is obliged to hear it declared false in his class of natural philosophy. This should not be; and we may hope that it will not be when our philosophical reasonings are ultimately grounded on first principles, and when no secondary principles are admitted which are not demonstrated, or corrected, or restricted by some evident and adequate reduction to first principles.

But now a question is to be answered which professors of philosophy will perhaps be the first to propose. The question is this: Can a sound and thorough work of philosophy, such as we want, be written in common and popular English, so as to prove easy reading for the average American student? Or must a special language be used which none but trained philosophers will understand?

Every one who knows how peculiar is the language of other sciences and arts will anticipate the answer. Of course, the English tongue is as fit as any other to express common thoughts; but common thoughts are the thoughts of common people, who do not commonly think with the utmost philosophical precision, nor talk of matters (of which there are many in philosophy) that transcend the common wants of their ordinary avocations. This being the case, it is obvious that, in writing a philosophical work (especially if it be intended to serve as a text-book for our higher Catholic institutions), it will be necessary to make use of a special language, which, though English, cannot be that easy-going and popular English which we find in common use, but must be a precise, guarded, dry, methodic, abstract, and perhaps stiff language, such as the gravity, subtlety, and difficulty of philosophical investigations often require.

I said, “Especially if the work is intended to serve as a text-book,” because, in this case, it will be absolutely necessary to adopt in it the whole of the philosophical terminology that has been handed down to us by our Catholic ancestors. Terminology, in all branches of study, is the faithful exponent of the various achievements of science, and contains, as it were, a summary of all that mankind has succeeded in learning in the course of centuries. To ignore more or less the philosophic terminology is therefore to ignore more or less the wisdom of all past ages. Moreover, it is only by means of an exact terminology that a teacher can convey the knowledge of exact truth to his pupils’ minds; and accordingly, all who study philosophy ex professo need to be well acquainted with its language, that they may acquire a clear, distinct, and precise knowledge of things; so that, when called upon in after-life to discuss or expound philosophical matters in a plain and popular way for the benefit of the unlearned, they may use such circumlocutions as will not essentially conflict with the truth of things. Experience shows that those who have not a clear and distinct conception of things, however much they may try to explain themselves, are never well understood.