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Chapter 11 - (Part 2)

The Limits Of Human Freedom

704. First, let us examine the source of the weakness of simple volition. We are speaking of our volition for good, and asking why it is so difficult for human beings to want good in real earnest. We shall prescind, however, from the principal cause of the difficulty, that is, the natural inclination of the will to evil, of which we have spoken, and from the fatal attraction of external things. We simply want to examine the causes internal to the will itself, and confine ourselves to the intrinsic difficulties which often impede the will from positing a strong, decisive act in favour of what is good.

This can be done only by analysing volition which always has some judgment as its foundation. A judgment, by which we declare that something is better and preferable to its contrary, certainly forms the first part of volition. This judgment is the knot joining volition and choice, and the immediate object of choice itself. We deliberate, and choose to make one judgment rather than another. Having chosen to judge in one way rather than another about the value of the alternatives before us, we then make the judgment with which volition is initiated. Judgment and volition are here related rather as a line proceeds from the point at which it begins.

705. This analysis is important. And it coincides, we are glad to see, with the thought and meditation of those who have gone before us, and whose authority we now wish to use once more to confirm what we have said. Grasping carefully how a judgment may be both the proximate term of choice and the principle of volition requires concentration. The knowledge, therefore, that this teaching was understood and firmly established prior to our own thought on the subject can only support what we have said, and reassure us that we are walking the path of truth.

First, calling freedom `free decision' [liberum arbitrium] shows that common belief considers the act of freedom to be essentially a judgment. The Latin arbitrium, as we know, can rightly be translated by judgment in English. Hence, the explanation given six centuries ago of the phrase, liberum arbitrium: `We use liberum to show that the will is free, and not necessitated; and arbitrium because the reason judges and discerns that which the will desires.'(297)
Seven centuries further back again, Cassiodorus described how the soul deliberates about its act of will: `The soul takes its seat on high as though it were about to give judgment. It sees itself moderating its own appetites, judges between good and evil, decides about doubtful matters and rejects what it finds harmful.'(298)

This explains why `free decision' is also called a decision of the mind or freedom of the mind by ancient authors.(299) As Gregory of Nyssa says: `Free choice lies in the freedom of mind and thought'.(300) Theodore of Ancyra is right, therefore, when he says: `Human beings are free simply because their judgment is free.'(301) Denis the Carthusian offers the same explanation of human freedom: `Human beings act in virtue of their judgment because they know things conceptually; and they act freely because their judgment consists in weighing pros and cons, and so enables them to decide in favour of one thing rather than another'.(302) Thus, because the capacity by which we determine our judgment about things in one way rather than another renders our volition free, our free volition rests upon the foundation of a judgment. This was the constant teaching of the ancient sages, and the reason why an unknown ecclesiastical author was able to write at the end of the 2nd century: `Our spirit is free to direct its judgment whichever way it wants, and to choose the road it judges best. It is clear, therefore, that human beings possess freedom of decision.'(303)

706. The entire force available to free will in its fight against the seduction of passion is found, therefore, in a judgment which serves as the foundation and principle of volition. Through this judgment the will affirms and decides that it is better to take the path of what is just and right than that of easy attraction. But it is not sufficient for the judgment to affirm this speculatively, as it were. Because the faculty of persuasion is that in which the noble, practical force of judgment principally resides, the human subject must persuade himself that this is so.
In the judgment itself, therefore, two elements have to be distinguished: the ruling, or conclusion of the judgment, and the more or less effective persuasion that brings about our conclusion. Our free decision is in great part the source from which both these things arise. The authorities we have examined confirm what we have said about the ruling; and St. Jerome teaches explicitly that persuasion depends upon us and upon our consent.(304) Other authorities could be adduced to prove the same thing.(305)

707. The definitive judgment by which we oblige ourselves to what is just and upright rather than to what is base and seductive acquires greater power over the will: 1. according to the perfection with which our ruling or sentence is pronounced; 2. according to the effort made by the soul to persuade itself more intimately, profoundly and effectively about the decision.

708. The ruling pronounced by the soul in favour of what is just and upright depends for its degree of perfection on the level at which it is pronounced, and on the way in which justice is given precedence over all transitory and subjective things. There can be no possibility of exaggerating here. Justice is infinitely noble and beautiful, and cannot be compared, even from a distance, with anything that may be found in the universe. Without justice other things are less than nothing. Hence the infinite dignity and authority of the law is, as we said, an inexhaustible spring whence the will can always draw further strength against instinctive allurements. The more the will considers justice, the more its love of justice grows.

709. At this point we could usefully and interestingly ask: `Does the moral law manifest itself from the beginning with equal light to all souls?' My own opinion is that the degree of light with which the law is resplendent in souls varies from the beginning, even in the natural order - at least in the present state of humanity.

Note carefully, however, that while the light manifesting the law in its beauty and dignity varies from person to person, the authority of the law is revealed as equal for everyone and to everyone. This authority is equally absolute, unchangeable, impassible and eternal because these are all properties essential to the law of justice and uprightness. Without them, such a law would not exist. I conclude, therefore, that although all humans beings feel equally obliged by the law, they do not all possess the same facility and readiness in rendering the law a powerful stimulus to the will. Those, however, are more fully endowed whose gaze, formed more purely and sharply by nature, absorbs at first sight greater light from the divine ray of justice.

710. It is worth noting that human beings, although often incapable of overcoming base desires with their natural forces, always presume they can achieve more than their possibilities permit. Deep in the spirit of all individuals lies an unshakeable belief that they are equally free to do good or evil, even when the contrary is true. This belief is tempered only slightly, even in the lives of persons prepared to reflect, by continual experience of their own weakness.

Such excessive belief in one's own freedom is undoubtedly due to the authority of the law and the rational nature of human beings. The law, in fact, shows us the path we have to tread, and does so with inflexible, unchangeable moral necessity. But if we were to believe ourselves incapable of conforming to the law, our own self-image would suffer the greatest indignity; we would despair of obtaining any moral dignity. This we abhor naturally, more than any other evil, and rather than think so badly of ourselves we put our trust in our own freedom. We are after all faced with a simple choice between alternatives.

On the other hand, our rational nature also draws us to put faith in our own freedom. The debased pressures and allurements which assault our will in an endeavour to deprave it and lead it into evil do not properly speaking come from the rational order, but rise up from the lower part of ourselves. The law, however, is revealed, and the decisions of freedom are made in the region of the intelligence. As intelligent beings, we cannot but consider ourselves as free because we are free within the borders of this region where nothing impedes or contradicts the exercise of our freedom. Consequently authors make freedom depend on intelligence, and speak of it as an outcome of intelligence.(306) Consciousness of our own freedom, and of the powers of this freedom, is proper to human beings as intelligent, although such consciousness is still speculative. But when we decide to act, we do so with all that we are, not with some part of ourselves. We do not act simply as intelligent beings, but as we are, animal and intelligent. And in our real, effective activity we discover obstacles arising from our animality which did not exist as long as we confined ourselves to speculation, nor in the concept of ourselves as intellective beings.

711. We have to distinguish, therefore, between freedom and the exercise of freedom. Human beings are always free even when the exercise of their freedom is sometimes curtailed. This explains why the Catholic Church decided on the one hand that free will had not perished(307) in human beings with original sin and on the other that we could do nothing relative to perfect good, that is, to good as sufficient for eternal life, without grace.(308) Thus, two conclusions, at first sight apparently opposed to one another, are reconciled, and we possess a key to the interpretation of many passages in St. Augustine and other writers which appear to be in contrast, but in fact are not.

712. Freedom, therefore, considered in its essence and its source, that is, in the intelligence, is never lacking to the human being. Intelligence, however, is only a remote power for doing good; as a proximate power it moves towards its act, the exercise of freedom, when it is not bound and impeded by accidental obstacles. And, as we said, we activate our remote power for doing good (the freedom proper to rational beings) and make it a proximate power (the freedom of the animal-rational being) by drawing strength primarily from the law we contemplate, whose intrinsic, absolute goodness and dignity we perceive. As we said, however, the time needed to make this move is sometimes eliminated by the overwhelming haste of our passions.

713. Moreover, our natural forces do not give us much assistance in advancing this work because the law, as an abstraction, cannot stimulate the activity needed to move our actions in the world of reality. Even within the sphere of natural virtue, therefore, our moral force is limited and incapable of resisting every temptation.

But we do draw strength for our practical judgment in favour of the law and against the seduction of the senses from sources other than the law as pure idea. This occurs in the first place relative to the objects themselves indicated by the law. These objects are real, and perceived by us in a real way. For example, love of our fellow human beings, which is commanded by the law, is assisted by the perception of our fellows. Such a real perception inclines us towards them, and helps to form within us kindness, friendship, loving reverence for our relatives, compassion for suffering and every kind of fellow-feeling. These things do not destroy the law, but rather promulgate it within us, give it body and life, activate it and add to it the efficacy proper to real things.(309)

714. This explains why we find great difficulty in carrying out duties relative to objects we have not yet perceived. Sometimes we see human virtues flourishing in human societies deprived of a true religion, and simultaneously a total lack of virtue in matters relating to God. This occurs because, naturally speaking, we can have only a completely negative idea of God who, as the supreme reality, cannot be really perceived. This thought was expressed by St. John where he said: `If anyone says, "I love God", and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen.'(310) These words show that the vision and perception of objects is of considerable assistance in helping us exercise our duties towards them. Hence, according to Catholic teaching, we need grace principally for the sake of fulfilling our duties towards God. These duties are the root of all the good activities which save human beings because in the supernatural order all virtues are finally reduced to the love of God.

715. Finally, the practical judgment enabling us to prefer the path of justice to that of iniquity is reinforced by many accessory ideas and by reflection on all the consequences of virtue and vice. Interior peace, remorse, reward and punishment, the temporal advantages that are normally the natural accompaniment of an ordered life, the disadvantages of a disordered life, praise and blame, good example, habits formed during the process of a good education and other similar features unite to constitute a profound judgment in favour of what is good. They also add vigour to our deep-rooted resolutions to prefer an upright life to any kind of deceitful illusion.

It is true, of course, that these final reinforcements of our judgment and determination towards good are not all as pure and sublime as those we mentioned previously. But they do serve as accessory motives and as tiny helps providing extraordinary support for us, who by nature tend to gravitate towards vice.

716. It is clear that human beings who choose what is good find these final helps in society. And provided the society in which they live is not totally corrupt, the quantity of help they find will result from the extension, good order, development and civilised state of the society. This explains why savage or still undeveloped peoples, although possessing greater independence, or rather precisely because they are more independent, have less feeling for their own liberty than civilised peoples amongst whom the consciousness of free will is immensely increased and continually develops. This growth of free will in civilised societies is the effect of greater human activity within them. Virtue and vice also find more means and weapons, as it were, with which to sustain themselves.(311)

717. We must now recall the distinction we made, in speaking of the practical judgment favourable to the law, between the ruling and the profound persuasion rendering the ruling efficacious in us.

First, the ruling, which has a speculative and a practical side. Relative to the speculative side, we judge the law to be infinitely authoritative as soon as we perceive it because this infinite authority is of the essence of the moral law which, without its infinite authority, cannot even be thought. In this respect, judgment about the law is necessary and equal in all human beings as soon as they conceive the law. But this theoretical ruling, which can be obscure, languid and very inefficacious in our minds, is only the foundation of the practical ruling. The practical element now to be added comes from the will and begins properly speaking in the act of determination which can be more or less strong and decisive. But the decisiveness and strength of the act determining the volition is confined within certain factual limits beyond which the force of the will cannot be extended. The will itself is a very limited power, and bears from the first moment of its existence limitations which, without doubt, are greatly increased as a result of the wound inflicted upon human nature by the first sin.

718. We find, therefore, a degree of force, applicable both to rulings and persuasion, posited by the will in its act of self-determination. Then come the other motives which we have indicated. These consist in experience and in the association of ideas, all of which stimulate us to judge that the justice-alternative is far better for us than a choice of injustice. In this way, we come to pronounce a practical judgment, composed of moral and eudaimonological elements, more favourable to good than to evil.

It is clear, therefore, that pronouncing a more effective judgment in favour of virtue is the work of the faculty of judgment and of the association of ideas and feelings. The help which these faculties are able to provide the will so that it may reach out for good and not bow before evil depends upon the state in which the faculties are found.

719. Both the judgment and the association, however, then depend upon the unitive force of the soul; in the last analysis, judgments and associations of every kind form a bond brought about between different elements by the unity of the soul. Here, too, the weakness of the will varies, this time according to the degree of defect found in the unitive force. To the extent of this debility the will finds itself without the means with which to enforce its choice. Such limitation is a very noticeable source of weakness in the will.

720. Degrees of moral weakness in human beings can now be clarified, therefore, if we turn our attention to defects which underlie the human unitive force.

Extreme defects of this kind affect the unitive force to such an extent that they produce total idiocy. Idiocy is total when human beings are so lacking in unitive force that they do not succeed in forming easily and perfectly even intellective perceptions of external things, that is, those operations through which the soul unites with ideal being the action it has received by means of sensations, and judges from its experience that a subsistent being, different from itself, exists. These extreme cases of idiocy can be seen in hospitals for the mentally afflicted amongst patients who are almost unaware of the presence of external objects despite the sensations produced by these objects. Thought has been almost entirely obliterated in these persons.(312)

721. Working upwards from this extreme defect in unitive force or from impediments to its use, we can notice continual variations which offer a solid explanation of the degrees of weakness in moral character from individual to individual. They also serve to explain the variety in the power of will relative to the practice of virtue in individuals. Several people may have an equal desire for virtue without, however, showing equal executive responsiveness to the common decision reached by their wills.

722. We note here that the persuasion accompanying a ruling pronounced by the will in favour of the law draws its weight in the soul not from the multitude of elements bound and fused together in the decision, but from the compactness with which, bound and unified, they form a single, simple force that serves as a single brilliant light influencing the soul.

723. We have to confess, however, that this matter is still very mysterious. Variation in the degree of persuasion presents phenomena still unexplained despite all the reasons we have offered for it.
In certain persons the development of a very high degree of persuasion is most clear without its being able to depend either upon the number of elements composing the ruling in favour of virtue, or upon their quality, and most definitely not upon the perfection of their mixture and fusion. It is undeniable that all these things normally influence persuasion greatly by the efficacy they add to it. But persuasion, when it is strong and efficacious, seems to draw most of its strength from altogether different, hidden sources.

There is no doubt that the resolution present in the first, instantaneous act with which we use our freedom to determine our will, that is, in our choice, is usually numbered amongst these secret sources of strong persuasion. In addition, there seems to be in some ideas a hidden effectiveness which may be impossible to subject to determined laws. This effective force takes possession of and entirely dominates the soul, although its action remains inexplicable. Sometimes it disturbs the soul intensely and profoundly, like Neptune with his trident in the immense ocean, as the story tells us. If this dominant idea expresses what is just and upright, it has an incredible power to draw us to heights from which we can look down and behold the universe which seems nothing in comparison.

Divine grace, of course, provides an immediate explanation of this fact, but here we are pointing to a wonderful moral phenomenon that is not confined solely to the sphere of religious and divine matters. A high, noble, generous idea, dominating the soul, has always been the guide, the divine light and the genetrix of heroes. What resonance, and hidden analogy with the soul, does this idea possess for one person when for everyone else it is only ordinary and inoperative?

But we also need to reflect carefully that in the case of the noble persuasion which forms heroes, the opposite to what we have described frequently takes place. As we said, a thought, the ruling of a practical judgment, justice when assented to, takes a more vigorous hold of the human spirit as its eternal beauty and worth is pondered at length. But in the case of heroes, the contrary occurs. The ennobling, decisive idea strikes like lightning and immediately, without the slightest delay, prostrates them. The dawning light of that idea is not a surface brilliance, but flashes in the very depth of their spirit. Perhaps the strange power of that idea, which then serves as the beginning of all the hero's magnanimous actions, is due in great part to the speed of its operation. In fact, under careful examination all sublime feeling can be seen to arise as a result of the spirit's sudden passage from one state to another very different state. Once again, an exquisite unitive force, reaching out instantly to very distant and diverse things, would seem to be present.

724. We also said that the ruling passed by a practical judgment produces greater interior energy in so far as the spirit is nourished by multiple ideas, considerations and feelings; the more cultured and developed a person is, the greater the assistance available for intensifying the persuasion his practical judgment has over him. Once more, the opposite can be seen in the case of the hero's noble persuasion. Simplicity seems the distinctive character of heroism; a single idea dominates the spirit which is neither distracted nor divided by any other idea. Unlettered persons, peasants, ordinary workers become instant prodigies, extraordinary persons.

Take for instance, someone like Cathelineau or Hoffer. It is impossible not to weep with tender wonder at the simple sublimity of such characters. Certainly, I am in no position to judge the moral worth of the actions of these great people, in whose unclouded spirit a single spark was sufficient to start a blaze enveloping the most extraordinary undertakings. But surely we can all see that the nobility of character enabling them to take their place amongst the wonders of this world is strictly related to the simplicity of their preceding life as peasants or artisans? And it is equally obvious that heroes of this stamp are almost impossible to find at other levels: how often, for example, do we ever see persons in cultivated, refined, high society who never act for a secondary end, whose attention is always fixed on their aim without thought of anything else, without self-deception, without the distraction of temptation, and who are prepared to sacrifice themselves totally to the generous feeling that rules them? There is only one exception to this, and we find it as we ascend to a higher sphere: Catholicism alone, heavenly grace alone, propagates these heroes everywhere. Simple women and tender children have despised death which they desired far more ardently than any of the amusements of their age, as we all know. And we know, too, that the Gospel has produced saints in all conditions, and even at the highest levels of society.

725. So far we have considered the will's weakness relative to what is good principally from the point of view of choice, that is, from the point of view of simple volition. We shall now speak of it in relationship with the command given to the other powers.
This second kind of weakness also springs from some defect in the unitive force of the subject. The will's incapacity to make itself obeyed easily by the subject's powers and bodily organs points to an evident flaw in its connection with the various powers. There is some shortcoming in the relationship between the commanding principle and the subject faculties.

I have already indicated the order existing in human faculties, and shown how together they form a chain by nature. The last link of this chain connects with freedom which communicates its command from link to link down through the whole chain (cf. 644-649). I have also proved elsewhere that free human activity, moving as it were from a centre, communicates with four other spheres. The first sphere to be moved is that which includes esteem for the objects nearest to the centre. The second, moved by the first, is that of the spiritual affections which in its turn communicates movement to the sphere of bodily passions; from this sphere movement is directed to the final external sphere of bodily movements.(313)

This union between the commanding will and the powers it commands involves the communication of movement from the judgment by which we esteem things to the affections and external movements. We called this union a dynamic link.(314) It is clear that any shortcoming in this link diminishes the subject's perfect unity. This in its turn implies some weakness in our dominion over ourselves and our activities. Powers not ruled and corrected by this single force, which is their natural master, acquire their own independent movements and act individually as though they no longer formed part of human unity. In varying degrees this unnatural dispersion of human powers is an obvious fact in all human beings.

726. Catholic teaching, which never disregards any of the noble, profound facts presented by mankind to impartial observation, recognises the fact under discussion here, and explains it through the story of human nature's degradation by the first fault. St. Augustine has no hesitation in teaching that animal instinct, through its connection with the will, would have been continually supervised and directed by the superior power in all its movements if human nature had not suffered defilement. But human nature lost that degree of power with which it would have exercised such complete mastery over the body.(315) He illustrates his point with a delicate observation on the power still exerted by the soul over the body. He notes that it moves parts of the body that we think are outside the will's activity, such as the lungs, or the vocal and epidermic organs. Some people, he continues, can move both ears simultaneously, or one at a time; others can move their hair without moving their head (I think they do it by moving the skin covering the skull up and down the forehead);(316) others have such command over the stomach that they can control at will the food within and the peristaltic movement of the intestines. The sweat and tear ducts are mastered in such a way that sweat can be released at will. Finally, the whole nervous system, including the cerebral organ, can be dominated so that people can withdraw themselves from external sensations. It should not seem incredible, therefore, that in unharmed human nature the power of the will would be able to govern those members which are now withdrawn from its control.(317)

727. As human beings we make theoretical and practical judgments before acting. Only the practical judgments, however, give rise to action.
This judgment is distinguished by its deliberative, operative force from the theoretical judgment, but not separated from it. On the contrary, the theoretical judgment is related to the practical as the design of a house is related to the house.
We shall therefore consider the faculty of judgment taken in all its extension, and examine the relationship that the theoretical and practical judgments have with human freedom. In particular, we shall see if human beings can be brought necessarily to judge falsely.

728. It is clear that if this were so, the false judgment, which must have some influence on our actions, would add a new limit to freedom. It is true, of course, that human beings, if they could be led without fail to a false judgment, would be seduced by the forceful attractions of instinct, of which we have already spoken. In this case, the limitation put to human freedom by the judgment would also originate in the instincts. Nevertheless, this cannot be called a straightforward limitation. The instincts work in two ways: either by determining us to act independently of the judgment, or by means of a judgment which they have falsified. We have already discussed the first kind of determining act; here we have to examine the second.

A general consideration, starting from the principle that the judgment depends in great part on the will(318) allows us to conclude without difficulty that if the will can be seduced and overcome by instinct, any judgment springing from a will already seduced and deluded must in all probability itself be false. This conjecture is not sufficient, however, to solve the problem. We have to question nature, and see if it allows us to answer the difficulty on the basis of fact.

729. Observations on deranged people seem to show that a state exists in which animality can act with such pressure on the spontaneity of the will that human beings can be drawn to false reasoning and judgments. Moments of derangement all seem to be simply false judgments produced by a will that has been irresistibly moved by sensations and images, in a word, by the sensuous instinct.

Dr. Pinel, in his Trattato sull'alienazione mentale thus describes a deranged patient inflicted with insanity for seven years:

Pinel describes another deranged person in the following terms:

730. Must we believe that this person's imagination altered the measure of the two terms of the judgment (the strength of the two men and the weight of the blocks of stone forming the dome) so much that by increasing one and decreasing the other the patient was forced to see equality in the face of such evident disequality? In this case, the soul's unitive force, with which he should have formed his judgment, would have been prevented from carrying out its operation directly. Or should we suppose that the will, carried away by impetuosity, wanted to be persuaded of such equality by forming a totally arbitrary judgment even before a comparison had been made between the two forces. Whichever way we view the matter, no one could affirm that this deranged person was free when he made the judgment. On the contrary, he must have been involved in the judgment necessarily, although voluntarily because, as we said, judgment is also an act of will.

But perhaps he judged hastily? If he had examined the case better, perhaps he would have noticed his mistake? This presupposes that he could have suspended his conclusion. But it is precisely at this point that the person finds himself necessitated. He is in such a state that he cannot suspend the affirmation of his judgment. On the one hand, no one suspends his judgment when he is persuaded that he sees things clearly;(321) on the other, there is an irresistible necessity impelling him to determine between suspension and decision, and decide in favour of the latter.

731. Pinel, whom we have quoted, is convinced of this. After long experience in looking after the insane at Bicêtre and Salpêtrière, he writes: `False, illusory perceptions sometimes dominate the intellect of the deranged with such mastery that they are drawn by an irresistible force to judge in accordance with their internal feeling. What they feel could be the effect of a violent change taking place in their physical state.'

732. Once again, experience can prove this. Sometimes the faculty of judgment is assisted and rendered capable of normal activity by the application of a purely physical remedy.

733. Often enough our faculty of judgment is reorientated simply by the presentation of data and materials suitable for making judgments. In arousing feeling, these materials need to be sufficiently strong to draw and fix the attention in such a way that the will, when it judges, cannot ignore them, nor the imagination by-pass them. Simply by forcing the afflicted person to divert his attention and take account of these materials in his calculations, without his usual unheeding disregard for them, we find the judgment correcting itself and the mind regaining its sanity. This proves that mistakes in these lightning judgments and immediate beliefs arise when conclusions are reached without previous true comparison between the terms of the judgments. An immediate, instantaneous, forceful persuasion about matters has been generated. In other words, we are dealing with prejudice or pre-judgment rather than judgment.

734. Dr. Pinel, whom we have already quoted frequently, speaks about the healthy effects of strong, opportune restraint as an aid to the restoration of judgment:

It is clear that this young woman took no account of her own weakness when she formed her judgments. But what she had neglected in her judgment, for the sake of the elements presented and enlarged by her imagination, was brought to the attention of her feeling through direct experience. In this way, her faculty of judgment was prompted to act more directly. At the same time, her frenzy was reined in as her judgments proved useless for attaining the satisfaction and exercise of power that she desired.

On the one hand, sensations, images, instincts and impetuous desires pressurise the faculty of judgment and impel it towards mistaken conclusions; on the other hand, more regular and more vivid sensations and images, when opposed to what has already occurred, can cure the judgment and restore the freedom needed for judging sensibly. This is because the later sensations and images have more power to draw and retain the attention, and because the hope of satisfaction from urgent desires is eliminated.

735. Hence the common observation of the best doctors who maintain that nothing is more helpful in the care of the insane than reason accompanied by irresistible force. This restraint should offer no hope of conquest or victory to the patients, but constrain them to brake the thrust both of their actions and of their ideas which they can then fix on the reasonable things suggested to them. Little by little their understanding perceives the previously neglected justice and truth of things, and habits are formed in harmony with it.(322)

736. Experience of this kind in treating the insane merits examination from a wider point of view. It does in fact offer a general means suitable for assisting the judgment in its operations - it is not only the insane whose judgment is faulty. Without being looked upon as insane, many are led astray in their judgments by the violence of passion, the agility of their imagination and the intensity of their feeling. And we have to admit that even crimes punished by law are not always purely and simply the result of malice. Very often they depend in great part on erroneous judgments, false opinions and the bizarre confusion of a bewildered mind. Criminal justice will reach perfection only when it takes this into consideration in afflicting punishment, and ceases to think of convicted people solely from the point of view of their misdemeanours. Those found guilty must also be seen as people tragically deceived and misled. In this way punishment will finally be thought of not only as a mere vindication of justice, nor simply as a way of repressing outbreaks of crime, but also as a cure for the intellectual disorder which often preys upon the condemned. It is from this human, charitable, religious point of view, which also forms part of justice in the strictest sense that the penal system merits careful consideration by wise governments.

737. Another important consequence of the principle under discussion relates to the education of children. Infancy is the period in which feeling is at its liveliest, imagination is without restraint, instinct is immediate, reason is without influence, and power over oneself at its weakest. The judgments we make as children need to be directed and assisted in every way possible; the impetus of physical instincts has to be opposed by physical restraint. Thinking we can eliminate all corporal punishment in education is therefore a modern mistake. There has been abuse unfortunately, but we have gone to the opposite extreme in trying to avoid it.

We need to distinguish anger from chastisement. Abuse is found when children are chastised in anger, a brute, irrational passion that ought never to be observed on the face or in the acts of parents and teachers. What should be seen is obvious reasonableness, enlightened justice, together with benevolence and meekness, although benevolence and meekness themselves may have to appear sad and sorrowful (but never indifferent, frivolous or careless). Chastisement without anger is never excessive nor disproportionate, but the most useful and effective punishment for children. Inflicted without anger, chastisement is free from bitterness and irritation, although it is and must be painful. If we want to improve our coming generations, we need to return to belief in the Bible, which says: `He who spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him is diligent to discipline him.'(323)

Let us now examine the other question.

738. As we said, our judgment can be irresistibly seduced. This does not mean that with truth before our minds we can be brought necessarily to disown it, but that we can fall into error either when truth is removed from our vision or our vision itself is confused. We should recall what I have said elsewhere about the intimate nature of error. I have shown that in the last analysis error is always ignorance;(324) that every error is preceded by confusion of ideas and mental activity;(325) and finally that anyone who errs does not judge (in the proper sense of the word), but acts on prejudice, that is, reaches a conclusion without having first compared the two terms of the judgment and seen their relationship.(326)

But on occasion error can arise relative to moral truth and to the practical judgment on which our actions are based. Not only the eyes of the body, but the eyes of the spirit also, can be clouded and blinded. The following considerations will help to see how this comes about.

739. All passive human faculties have their root in the inmost feeling or universal sense of our soul. In the same way, all our active faculties arise from the same root, where they are fused in that first, original faculty of inmost feeling which is called `subject' rather than feeling because it is indeed the human being itself.

740. This substantial feeling or myself takes on different levels of vitality. In other words, the subject feels more or less intensely. Myself receives an increase of life and a higher grade of existence as it takes on greater intensity and is felt more strongly. Such a strengthened feeling of the subject's own existence and of the increase in its being also entails a higher degree of happiness. Ultimately, complete happiness is only the vital existence of myself taken to its final limit - all that is good in feeling brought to the ultimate term of every appetite.

741. The myself feeling, however, is twofold: intellective feeling and body-sense feeling. Myself finds its being augmented whenever one or other of these two feelings increases in force. If the body-sense feeling takes on immensely greater force while the intellective feeling remains sluggish and marginal, myself must necessarily lose sight of and become almost unaware of its being as an intellective feeling. This intellective mode of existence no longer holds the interest of the subject because experience of an increasing degree of life and existence is no longer given along with it. Consequently, the subject no longer has any hope or desire to increase and expand in this direction. Intellective feeling becomes a kind of dull, moribund, withdrawn existence in the depths of the soul. It cannot be destroyed, of course, but it can lie dormant and unheeding, and as such the source of a propensity to materialism, the profession of persons in whom animal existence has become intensely active, and intellective knowledge only a faint memory.

742. We must also note that in every being modes of action correspond to modes of being. Myself, for example, is a feeling: its mode of being consists in feeling; it exists where it feels and as it feels. The myself which feels animality with great intensity, exists and therefore acts more as an animal than an intellective feeling; the myself which lives a powerful intellective and moral life acts more like an intellective and moral being. Myself's activity is never more than a protraction of the elementary action begun in the feeling and affections.

We should not be surprised, therefore, if truth and even moral truth becomes obscure to the eyes of the soul. Although truth is ever-present, the soul, enthralled by another kind of desire, no longer looks at truth. It allows its judgments and movements to be governed by another desire. The light of truth striking the soul obliquely, as it were, produces within it only a tenuous, ineffective impression rather like that of a coloured body acting upon a distracted gaze.

743. It is important to note, however, that while we affirm the possibility of our sometimes being led astray necessarily in our judgments, we are dealing with extraordinary, accidental cases which initially are always blameworthy. Normally, we come to such a miserable state, in which the spontaneity of the human will has been made captive, only as a result of preceding malice, and because we have not made use of means within our power to preserve the freedom of our will and judgment, or to liberate them when they have been enslaved.

744. The great teachers of the Catholic Church are right, therefore, in holding that usually we can either deceive ourselves or grasp the truth. St. Ambrose says: `It is our free affection that draws us to error; the will which follows reason draws us away from error.'(327) Philastrius, bishop of Brescia in the 4th century, has this comment on the words of Genesis, `You shall master your desire': with these words God commands Cain to master `his evil thoughts which fall under his decision. Each person, through his decision and his will, can free his heart from the evil thought put there by the demon.'(328) In the same way Cyril of Alexandria attributes human salvation or damnation to the mastery that we exercise over our thoughts. As he says, the Creator `gave free power to rational creatures. To each he assigned the government of his own will so that every human being might choose what had previously been judged as good. Those who have chosen the better part will have glory and reward in conformity with the choice they have made; others who have dragged themselves down with their evil thoughts and been brought low by their own desires will rightly be tormented in eternal punishment as wicked ingrates.'(329)

745. Human freedom finds another bond in previously formed opinions, that is to say, erroneous opinions. An opinion is an affirmation 1. received by us as true; 2. no longer subject to examination; and 3. posited amongst things judged as incontestable.

746. Opinions remote from practical determination effect human actions less than other, more proximate opinions. But all opinions exercise some degree of influence from near or far upon our way of acting, and all contribute to the make-up of our moral character by moulding our inclinations and directing our steps along the path of life. Especially harmful are mistaken opinions about moral matters.

747. There is no doubt that we have to render an account to God even of our opinions. St. Justin says: `God, when he created us, gave us understanding, and through the power of free decision enabled us to follow what was true and do good. Not a single one of us, therefore, can excuse himself before God. We were created by God as rational beings, apt for contemplation.'(330)

748. But I do not want to consider here the degree of human freedom present in forming mistaken opinions. Opinions are formed by judgments, and what has been said about freedom of judgment will be sufficient to cover that problem. Abstracting therefore from possible freedom and imputability in the formation of erroneous judgments, I affirm that on occasion invincibly erroneous judgments are present in human beings, and that in general certain formed opinions determine human activity and limit our freedom as long as they remain in our mind.

749. Only God can judge such complicated, hidden and multiple activity in human nature. So many things have to be considered: the force of our illusions, the degree of attraction that education exerts in our spirit, the authority of our elders, the opinions that we have heard proclaimed with certainty from our earliest days, universal beliefs breathed in like air, as it were. And all these opinions are strengthened inevitably by the natural passions, feelings and instincts associated with them. There is no doubt that opinions, passions and feelings modify one another reciprocally, directing one another to various destinations. Set in motion, harmonised and jumbled together they form almost a single force to which the spirit is subject and from which it receives impulses, a certain character, and what we may call `moral configuration'.

I am speaking not simply of physical passions and feelings, but of the most elevated feelings possible to mankind: magnanimity and greatness of spirit, patriotism, glory, love, piety, all that is splendid within the human spirit and approximates to virtue. Our opinions modify and develop, or retard and envelop, all these feelings, just as feelings, when very forceful, either modify, purify and ennoble our opinions or degrade and barbarise them.

Take for instance Byron's Corsair, a perfect example of someone with sublime gifts for good and evil, and placed in extraordinary circumstances. No merely human tribunal could ever pass judgment on such a human nature, conditioned as it was, in the midst of the internal and external moral agents that the English poet imagined for his buccaneer. If you say `That's only a story; human nature has never been like that', then take the case of the Tartar, Kara-Aly, a real person who died last year at Zarajek under the lashes of the knout.(331) It is impossible to say how much the beliefs and opinions of this ferocious yet generous assassin influenced his life and at the same time diminished the culpability of his misdeeds. Muslim fatalism, for example, impressed deeply in his spirit from youth, must have served to quieten his remorse, and render him simultaneously cruel and resigned to the will of God even in death.(332) His belief that he was the legitimate Sultan of Kazam deprived of his throne by his uncle,(333) combined with his harsh treatment at home and his conscription into the Russian army, must have served to accumulate immense anger in such a naturally robust, proud, and vital person whose whole enjoyment consisted in facing danger. No one can tell how another kind of upbringing, in other circumstances, with other beliefs, might not have brought him to strong, noble virtue, in which even humanity and gentleness might have played their part. That atrocious soul was endowed with elevated feeling, a glorious imagination and a wonderful instinct for language, all of which he showed in the gratitude, reverence and love he expressed towards his beautiful wife, Fazry.(334)

750. Another limit to freedom arises from virtual and habitual volitions. By virtual volition I mean a disposition already present in the will by which the will is inclined towards some object which it wants as soon as the object reveals itself, although previously it was unknown. The will itself may be ignorant of this inclination, or of the object to which the inclination is leading it.

By habitual volition, on the other hand, I mean that disposition by which the will is not only inclined towards a given object, but has already decided for it once and resolved to have it, without ever retracting this desire. These habitual volitions thus have their origin in an actual, preceding volition. What I call virtual volitions do not presuppose an actual volition already decided by the will, but simply an inclination which turns the will to the object as soon as the opportunity to do so presents itself.

751. The existence of virtual and habitual volitions in the human spirit is a mysterious fact, but nevertheless a fact.
There is a striking analogy between the existence of abstract ideas in our intellect and of habits in the will. A very close connection exists between these two things, which, however, we cannot discuss here. I simply wish to point out that those who deny the existence of abstract ideas are necessarily predisposed to deny habits in the human spirit. Because they do not understand these habits, they think themselves authorised to deny their existence. Many times I have shown the vanity and presumption underlying this kind of reasoning, and I do not think it necessary for me to stop now and prove the existence of virtual and habitual volitions. Prefering to appeal to the consciousness of people who know how to observe what takes place in their spirit, I am certain that volitions of this kind will be recognised as extremely real.

752. My first affirmation, therefore, is this: given the presence in human beings of unchanging virtual and habitual volitions prior to action, freedom of action is limited as long as these volitions last because they influence subjects in their decisions. Let us begin with virtual volitions.
There is no doubt that human beings possess an already formed state of will inclining them towards something vague but still unknown which, as soon as it reveals itself, is recognised by the will as the object it secretly desired and sought. At the moment of recognition the will knows what it previously desired so ardently, blindly and uncertainly.

This is the psychological fact which the novel about Gertrude(335) intends to portray when it shows her still a young girl in the monastery, listening for the first time to her companions' gossip about banquets, late-night parties and entertainments. Suddenly she finds herself totally changed. `These images' - this is not a novelist writing, but a recorder of the human spirit - `cause turmoil in Gertrude's mind; her thoughts are as busy as bees that find a great basket of fresh flowers put down in front of their hive.' Later the author describes another great change in the girl's condition. Gertrude, no longer a child, `is moving towards that critical age when a mysterious power seems to enter the spirit, lifting us up, embellishing and strengthening all our inclinations and ideas which it can sometimes even change and set on unforeseen paths', paths normally directed by virtual volition, as we have called it. This volition surfaces, grows and is strengthened through the development of instincts with which it has some affinity and analogy. Finally, when it discovers the reality corresponding to its proper object, it reaches fulfilment by bursting forth as an actual volition.

753. Sometimes, some inherent partiality is already present in the human will which undoubtedly heightens the spontaneity of desire by adding energy of will to the impression of an object. Without this addition, spontaneity would not be completely operative. The will gravitates towards the object rather like a body poised on a balance which rolls down at the least movement.

In this case of `partiality' the total cause of movement results from the common aim shared by the impression of the object and the associated inclination of will. The two causes mingle in different proportions to produce the full effect of voluntary movement and consent in such a way that less pressure is required from the object as the disposition and inclination of the will increases, and vice-versa. As a result, even an impression which, slight in itself, would be incapable of overcoming the smallest obstacle in one person, proves of immense efficacy in another already prompted by passion.

The history of human passions and of passionate people is all here. They are sensitive in the extreme not only to everything related to their passion, but even to the shadow and distant image of the objects enthralling them. They behold the objects of their affections everywhere, even where they are least likely to be found. One man jealously nourishes hatred for another, and sees everything done by his enemy as foul and injurious to himself: the other's slight neglect becomes a crude, intolerable offence; the most innocent actions are exaggerated and interpreted evilly; even the courtesy and benevolence with which the other treats him is construed as the result of bad motivation, and used to fuel the hatred burning within. Other passions are of a similar nature. All give rise to heightened sensitivity, disastrous inclination in the will, total blindness relative to any object opposed to the passions, and mistaken sharpness of vision in relationship to anything favouring them.

754. According to Christian teaching, even the evil disposition posited in humankind by original sin consists in one of these virtual volitions. Cornelius à Lapide writes: `The movements of concupiscence are not restricted to sense-appetite. They pertain also to the will which, vitiated in its origin, inclines towards good which is pleasant, honourable and satisfying to curiosity.'(336)

755. We have already dealt with sense-appetite when we saw that it produced a kind of diseased vivacity, exaggerated force, and unfulfillable promises. Nevertheless, the will would be able to withstand sense-appetite without abandoning itself blindly and hopelessly to the pleasure of sensations and the deceitful delight of primary instincts if the will itself tended towards what is good, and reason were less lazy in initiating activities relative to the attainment of justice. It is true that at first the will could still be deceived. The uncontrolled, falsified pleasure of such instincts could be thought to contain more good than they actually do. But this is very different from the mistake we are considering at the moment. Such an error would consist only in an exaggerated degree of esteem and affection given to the titillation of the senses. The exaggeration could later be corrected and emended without great difficulty. Our present case, however, is one in which the will errs easily in the degree and singlemindedness of its affection. Here, the will is accustomed to giving excessive and exclusive affection to feelable things in which it immerses itself.

The cause of this blind abandonment is to be found only in the blindness and tardiness of reason, and in its apathy relative to matters immortal. At the moment in which feeling has already opened and passed through a large breach in the human heart, reason does not provide the will with any noble object. When it does finally discover the sublime objects we call justice and virtue, they lie dormant for long periods like insignificant, immobile larvae overwhelmed by the intense reality and urgent presence of feelable things. The will, without anything to sustain it, allows its spontaneity to follow its own course almost without hindrance along the path traced by exterior, feelable matters. From this moment, we are conspirators with instinct, as St. Gregory says, and `we turn the knife upon ourselves.'(337)

Worse follows. The evil inclination of our will, and the bad, habitual affections acquired from the first moment of human existence, have an added fatality. These excessive, singleminded affections are also final in the sense that the will imagines it can find its complete satisfaction and supreme happiness in feelable things. This is the ultimate, greatest degree of disorder. It is shown in certain people from the very outset of the will's activity, and begins with something initially defective and false in the will. Such final disorder differs from the first, which depends upon a deterioration in feeling, and from the second, which springs from weakness and sloth in the understanding.

756. Nevertheless, anyone examining in depth the state of the human will beholds something more mysterious and wonderful than all the conditions we have listed so far. They will see that from the beginning the will has been attuned and inclined to something absolute, and that it moves towards a supreme good of which it is ignorant but from which it cannot prescind. They will see that the will experiences in itself an immensely active need, absorbing all other needs, for this unknown, but highest good. Certainty and trust in eventually finding such good never deserts the will, although the certainty is illusory and the trust presumptuous. No doubt arises about the imminent discovery of this good nor about the chance of reaching out to it immediately. Without stopping to think, the will sees and grasps it (or rather thinks it sees and grasps this final good) in any good that appears to stimulate the will. Whatever misery of privation it suffers without this hoped-for good, some glimmer of light, a mirage or illusion still shines before it. Through this disorder of innate presumption, the human will endlessly convinces itself of its power to make itself happy with any kind of good or imagined good, and to provide for its own bliss.(338)

This pitiful, unceasing pride of the will is evident in the whole of human history. Every step that humanity has taken, every excogitated philosophy, and every imaginary religion bears its own steady witness to this degradation. No human waywardness is inwardly bereft of the sad persuasion expressed in the proud affirmation of the letter to Leucippus: `Any object whatsoever, however fragile it may be, can form our happiness.' Such is the briefest and most explicit formula of the inner malfunctioning with which the human will is born.(339)

757. One of these virtual volitions, although incomplete, or at least not invincible, is present in human beings, therefore, inclining them to favour evil whenever the opportunity occurs. This constitutes the basis of original sin.

This volition draws us in the direction both of false judgments and evil works. St. Prosper expresses the point well when he affirms that man's very judgment was degraded by original sin.(340) A great 8th century author uses this telling expression in his description of the same sin. He says that `the goodness of the will was withdrawn from free decision',(341) and means that although good and bad volition were possible to free decision, the former was taken away and free decision itself was inclined to bad volition. Saint Augustine touches the two simultaneous wounds in understanding and will when he says: `Approving what is false as though it were true in such a way that human beings err without wishing to do so and find themselves unable to refrain from unlawful actions, is not something natural to humanity, but a penalty of condemnation.'(342) According to Catholic teaching, therefore, it is grace that heals this wound of the will.(343)

758. But let us return from facts to theory. As we said, an habitual volition is present in us if the volition has indeed passed into act, if the object of the volition is known, and if an explicit or at least implicit propensity to desire the object remains in the spirit. Habitual, like virtual volition, remains permanently in us as one of those acts which we call `immanent'. It serves to determine and constitute a state of the human spirit.

759. Normally we reflect only upon our changing acts, and find it extremely difficult to conceive of a lasting, constant act in our spirit unless it produces something new in it. It is not easy to think of anything which endures within us without growth or diminution in intensity, or without its requiring effort or tension from our spirit. Nevertheless, without facts of this kind nothing can be explained in nature: existence itself is one of these acts; our powers are simply immanent acts; our habits are a third kind of such acts and, considered as more developed powers, have taken another step towards their natural term and final perfection.

760. Everyone wants the highest good. This is an immanent, natural act which is, at the beginning, only virtual because the highest good is still unknown to us. We know only good as such, in which all good, and especially the greatest good, is present virtually. Anyone tending to good as such, tends virtually to the supreme good. When we begin to gain some knowledge of the supreme good and want it, we have an actual volition for it, which then becomes habitual.

The habitual volitions we have described may be good or blameworthy. If the habitual volition for moral good lies at the very depth of our soul, we are good. If the habitual volition for evil is present there, we are bad. Our good or evil state depends on these volitions.

761. These volitions of ours are profound and hidden, veiled to other people, and concealed even from ourselves who possess them. Hence Scripture numbers amongst God's attributes that of `searcher of the heart'.(344) And of Christ, too, we read that `he knew what was in man',(345) that is, he knew whether the habitual volition lying deep in the spirit was good or blameworthy.

Actions spring from our habitual volitions to which we liken the Gospel tree whose fruits are constituted by our actions. So we read that `every sound tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears evil fruit. A sound tree cannot bear evil fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit'(346). It is clear that a distinction is made in this passage between two kinds of goodness, that of the tree and that of the fruit, just as there are two kinds of evil, that of the tree and that of the fruit. The goodness or evil of the tree are the virtual and habitual volitions, good or bad; the goodness or evil of the fruit, our actual good or bad actions.

762. We conclude, therefore: virtual and habitual volitions are a fetter restricting freedom as long as they endure; but freedom can to a certain point annul and destroy them.

763. We think it will be useful here (before we begin the next book which deals with the human subject as the single subject of all our passive and active powers) to offer readers a summary table of the principal human powers of which we have spoken so far. They are set out according to their natural order in the following schema:-

Notes

(297) Caesarius of Heisterbach, bk. 8, c. 44.

(298) De An., c. 15.

(299) Jerome, Is., c. 55; Cl. Maures Victor, In Praef. Genes.

(300) Orat. catech, c. 30.

(301) `You were made free, you do what you wish, you are not under any compelling necessity. The judgment made by your spirit is free. The sun is under necessity; human beings have been allotted freedom of judgment' (Hom. in Natal. Salvatoris).

(302) Summa orthod. Fid., art. 115.

(303) Recognit., bk. 3.

(304) `PERSUASION does not come from the one who has called us, but from ourselves whether we consent or not to the one who calls,' (In Ep. ad Gal., c. 5). In the order of supernatural things such persuasion is always impossible without grace.

(305) The little book of precepts for the education of royalty, written by Emmanuel Paleologos, c. 28, has this to say: `Human beings decide whether they are going TO BE PERSUADED.'

(306) St. Gregory of Nyssa expresses this concept as follows: `Only inanimate beings and those without reason are led by the will of others towards visible things. If a nature which shares in reason and intelligence were to abdicate its free will, it would by that very fact lose its intelligence. What point would there be in using our mind and thought if our power to choose what we have decided through some judgment were vested in others?' (Orat. catech., c. 30). Nemesius shares this opinion: `If we were not the authors of our own activity, our faculty of thought and deliberation would be of no use to us' (De nat. hominis, c. 39). Hence Boethius' general remark: `No rational creature exists without free will' (De Consol. Philo., bk. 1, prose 2.). More recently a Greek author has repeated an opinion frequently recorded in the Greek Fathers: `The more rational part of the soul has been given to us by God so that we could come to some decision. In our decisions reason and free will shine forth' (Nicetas of Chone, a 13th century author, in Tesoro della Fede ortod., bk. 4, heres. 42.

(307) `If anyone says that human free will is lost and extinct after Adam's sin, or that free will itself is only a name, and indeed a word without any corresponding reality, [or says] that it is mere imagination and hence forced upon the Church by Satan: let him be anathema' (Council of Trent, sess. 6, De Justificat., canon 5).

(308) ` . . . neither can human beings without the grace of God move of themselves and of their own will towards justice before God' (Council of Trent, sess. 6, De Justif., c. 5). Hence St. Augustine's explanation of how we must understand that human free will has not been lost along with the sin of Adam: `We do not say that free will has been lost to human nature by Adam's sin, but that it avails for sin in those subject to the devil. The human will is of no avail for good, holy living unless it has been liberated by the grace of God, and assisted towards all good in deed, word and thought' (Contra duas epis. Pelag., bk. 2, c. 5).

This passage shows that free will was not eliminated through sin, although its exercise was in part blocked in such a way that the grace of our Saviour was necessary to draw such exercise in the direction of freedom. St. Augustine himself says that our decisions are held captive through original sin until it is freed through grace: `If we truly wish to defend free will, let us not attack the source of its freedom. If we really oppose grace, by which our free will is liberated to avoid evil and do good, we want our free will to be held captive.' (Ep. 107 ad Vital.). A 10th century commentator on Scripture had no hesitation in writing: `Nor do we destroy human freedom by saying this. We are free if we are assisted from on high. For there is no freedom if we are without grace' (Rudolf Flaviac., in Levit., bk. 12, c. 1). In these and many other places, where it is constantly repeated that after sin the human will can do nothing good without grace, we have to understand this as referring to supernatural good, that is, complete good, which alone can ensure our eternal well-being.

(309) See La Storia comparativa e critica de' Sistemi Morali, c. 5, art. 5, where I have treated this question at length.

(310) 1 Jn 4: [20].

(311) This persuasion of one's own power and freedom, which increases in human beings as societies grow more civilised, is an undoubted influence in greatly modifying the materialistic views of feticism and polytheism which can prevail in such societies. Again, when a purer religion is brought to a people professing such idolatry, consciousness of its own freedom and power must suddenly increase together with civilisation. But history, it must be noted, does not present any definite case of a people practising fetistic religion and of itself advancing culturally to a stage where it could exchange this religion for a better cult. Nor is there any example in history in which superstitious, fetistic religion has shown any internal progress towards purer ideas about the deity. Movement in peoples of this kind always proceeds from without, that is to say, either civilisation is imported into these peoples who, as a result, modify their religious ideas for the better or a purer religion has been imported which generates progress in civilisation. The following quotation from a modern author will help to reaffirm the matter for my readers, despite the onesidedness and consequent imperfection of the author's viewpoint: `Only when religion has been considerably purified and has rejected the fetistic and polytheistic heritage of residual anthropomorphisms about God are we able to view the disappearance of all difficulties about destiny, fate and free will.

At this moment, the notions of necessity and change - two hypotheses constantly at loggerheads in imperfect religions - are succeeded by a notion which unites all their advantages, and rejects only what it finds gross in them. Then, in order to applaud self-conquest more vigorously, human beings are thought of as endowed with freedom. We know that chance works at a higher level than we do when it deceives our wishes rather than accept them. Consequently, we do not unite ourselves to some unknown cause in order to satisfy our passing caprices, but to reach higher moral perfection by rising above all that is ephemeral and personal. Only then is courage at full force, and resignation fully acceptable' (B. Constant, De la Religion etc., 7, 7).

(312) See the description of such cases in Dr. Pinel's work, sect. 3, 3.

(313) PE, 114-181. Storia comparativa dei Sistemi Morali, chs. 1; 5, art. 6; 7, art 6, §3; 8, art. 3, §5.

(314) The dynamic link under consideration here was well known to ancient writers whom I have quoted elsewhere. Tertullian describes it briefly and with absolute truth when he speaks of free will, and says: `Nature follows the directions of free will' (De Anima, c. 21). A holy ecclesiastical author of the 5th century says with great precision that God commanded human beings first to know, and then, having known, to love and to will. I have with me only a translation of this Greek Father which reads: `By nature, human beings possess that readiness of spirit which God seeks of us. He orders us, therefore, first TO KNOW, then, after knowing, TO LOVE, and SEND FORTH our will' (Marcus the Hermit, De Paradiso, et lege spirituali). Nothing could be clearer than these last words.

(315) De Civ. Dei, 14, 21.

(316) I too had a servant who could move in an extraordinary way either all or part of the skin covering the skull. The border of his hair came down extremely low over his forehead.

(317) De Civ. Dei, 14, 24.

(318) Certainty, 1246-1363.

(319) Sect. 2, 5.

(320) Ibid.

(321) There is no doubt that young people have to be accustomed from a very early age to extreme diffidence about themselves when their judgments contradict those of others. Prudence and habitual modesty of this kind, combined with respect for common sense, can become a useful instrument for tempering the impetus of passion if it is sown sufficiently early in young souls. It is a kind of ballast helping the little boat to hold the right course on its perilous navigation through life: it would help us to avoid many errors and misdirections dependent upon over-confident judgments, and save humanity from innumerable disasters. Nevertheless, we look in vain to modern education for persons who will take care to infuse this wisdom, this habitual logic, in young souls.

(322) `One of the advantages of well ordered hospitals is the opportunity they provide of impressing vividly upon the deranged who are adequately receptive the conviction that they are faced with overwhelming force capable of mastering their will and caprices. This idea must be put before them constantly. It arouses their intellect, brakes their insane outbursts and gradually makes them used to restraining themselves - one of the first steps towards health. Sometimes, if they are allowed home too soon, awareness of their new independence and of the freedom they have to follow their own impulses makes them act without restraint. The result is irregularities in their way of life, and the stimulation of untoward affections destined to revive their previous disability.' Pinel, Tratt. medico-filosofico sull'alienazione mentale, sect. 6, 1.

(323) Prov 13: [24]

(324) Certainty, 1361-1362.

(325) Ibid., 1325-1327.

(326) Ibid., 1328-1334.

(327) De Jacob, et vita beata, bk. 1, c. 1.

(328) `Scripture does not say that he will rule his brother . . . but you shall rule your evil thought, which is indeed subject to your decision. Each person by his decision and will either rejects the evil thought put in his heart by the devil, or by not rejecting it falls into endless wrong' (Haeres, 80).

(329) In Joann., bk. 9, c. 10.

(330) Orat. ad Ant. Pium.

(331) The account of the trial of this Asiatic Russian was published in the Petersburg Gazette, and aroused considerable interest.

(332) When he saw he could not escape, he threw away his yagatan and shouted at his captor: `God has willed it. Kill me or let me live! Do what you like! Fate has overtaken me.'

(333) Noussiram-Bey.

(334) The daughter of Noussiram-Bey.

(335) The nun of Monza.

(336) `The movements of concupiscence are not restricted to sense-appetite. They pertain also to the will which, naturally vitiated in its origin from Adam, inclines towards good which is pleasant, honourable and satisfying to curiosity' (Comm. in Ep. ad Rom. 7).

(337) `When evil suggests something to us, we fulfil through our will what has been suggested, and together with the will inflict injury upon ourselves' (Moral., 13, 11).

(338) This credulous presumption is assisted by the sluggishness and weakness of the understandng which, although it knows that something is good, has to work very hard to know how good this thing is. In other words, the understanding finds it difficult to establish the limits within which this word is restricted. Without the knowledge of these limits, however, we find that in accepting something as good we have only an indeterminate idea of its goodness. Precisely because this idea is vague, the will dreams its dreams and finds in the object it enjoys a kind of satisfying infinity.

(339) Facts which prove that the human will is continually inclined to suppose itself capable of finding total happiness in every good, however limited and imaginary (a supposition and belief which helped, encouraged and directed mankind to form for itself every sort of philosophy and superstition), can be found in my Saggio sulla Speranza, in the 2nd volume of the Opusculi Filosofici (Milan, 1828) and in the Frammenti di una storia dell'Empietà (Milan 1834).

(340) `. . . by which the will's judgment was degraded, not taken away' (De vocat. gentium, 1, 8).

(341) Alcuin, De Trinit, 2, 8.

(342) `Approving what is false as though it were true in such a way that human beings err without wishing to do so and, despite their repugnance to carnal slavery, find themselves unable to refrain from unlawful actions, is not something natural to human beings, but a penalty of condemnation.'

(343) Hence St. Gregory the Great says: `Free will is directed towards good in the elect when through the help of grace their mind is turned away from earthly desires. The good that we do is both God's and our own: God's, through his prevenient grace; ours, through the piety of our free will' (Moral., 33, 20). Cardinal Jacques de Vitry says: `After the infusion of first grace, we ourselves must co-operate with God through our free will, after it has been liberated by grace' (Serm. Dom. 12 post octavas Pent). In these and other places we see that the stimulus of grace does not constitute of itself an actual volition, but is made such by the co-operation of the will. Of itself, therefore, grace is a virtual volition. And not only a virtual, but an habitual volition because God, the object of good, communicates himself, although in a hidden way, in baptism.

(344) `The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately corrupt; who can understand it? "I the Lord search the mind, and try the heart"' (Jer 17: [9, 10]).

(345) Jn 2: 25.

(346) Matt 8: [17, 18].