God is a great Lord and a great king above all gods. For the Lord will not reject his people. For in his hands are all the ends of the earth and the heights of the mountains are his. For the sea is his and he made it, and his hands formed the dry land.

Psalm 94:3–5

We have shown in the preceding books that there is one first being, possessing the full perfection of all being, whom we call God, and who bestows being on all that exists from the abundance of his perfection, so that he is proved to be not only the first of beings, but also the beginning of all. Moreover, he bestows being on others not through natural necessity, but according to the decree of his will, as we have shown above.¹ Hence it follows that he is the Lord of the things made by him, since we dominate over those things that are subject to our will. And this is a perfect dominion that he exercises over things made by him, insofar as in their making he needs neither the help of an extrinsic agent, nor matter as the foundation of his work, since he is the universal efficient cause of all being.

Now everything that is produced through the will of an agent is directed to an end by that agent, because the good and the end are the proper object of the will. Therefore, whatever proceeds from a will must be directed to an end. And each thing attains its end by its own action, which action needs to be directed by him who endowed things with the principles by which they act.

Consequently, God, who in himself is perfect in every way, and by his power endows all things with being, must be the ruler of all, himself ruled by none: nor is any thing to be excepted from his ruling, as neither is there any thing that does not owe its being to him. Therefore, as he is perfect in being and causing, so is he perfect in ruling.

The effect of this ruling is seen to differ in different things, according to the difference of natures. For some things are so produced by God that, being intelligent, they bear a resemblance to him and reflect his image: thus not only are they directed, but they direct themselves to their appointed end by their own actions. And if in thus directing themselves they be subject to the divine ruling, they are admitted by that divine ruling to the attainment of their last end, but are excluded from it if they direct themselves otherwise.

There are others without intelligence which do not direct themselves to their end, but are directed by another. Of these some, being incorruptible, do not wander in their own action from the direction to their appointed end (even as they do not suffer defect in their natural being), but are subject without fail to the ruling of the supreme ruler. Such are the heavenly bodies, whose movements are invariable.

Others, however, being corruptible, are patient of defects in their natural being; yet this defect is supplied to the advantage of another, since when one thing is corrupted, another is generated. Likewise, they fail from their natural direction in their own actions, yet this failing is compensated by some resultant good. From which it is clear that not even those things which are seen to wander from the direction of the supreme ruling escape from the power of the supreme ruler. This is so because these corruptible bodies are perfectly subject to God just as they are created by him.

Therefore, considering this, the Psalmist, filled with the divine spirit, first describes to us the perfection of the supreme governor in order to give us an illustration of the divine government—as to his nature when he says: God; as to his power, when he says: a great Lord, implying that he needs no one for his power to produce its effect; as to his authority, when he says: a great king above all gods, since, although there be many rulers, yet are all subject to his rule.

Second, he describes to us the manner of this government. And with regard to intellectual beings—which, if they submit to his rule, receive from him their last end which is himself—he says: For the Lord will not reject his people. As regards things corruptible—which, though at times they wander from their proper mode of action, never escape the power of the supreme ruler—he says: For in his hands are all the ends of the earth. And as regards the heavenly bodies—which transcend the highest summits of the earth (that is, of corruptible bodies), and always maintain the order of the divine government—he says: And the heights of the mountains are his.

Third, he assigns the reason of this universal government, because the things that God made must be governed by him. To this he refers when he says: For the sea is his.

Since, then, in the first book we have treated of the perfection of the divine nature, and in the second of the perfection of the divine power, inasmuch as he is the Creator and Lord of all, it remains for us in this third book to treat of his perfect authority or dignity, inasmuch as he is the end and governor of all. We must therefore proceed in this order: first, to treat of him as the end of all things; second, of his universal government, inasmuch as he governs every creature; third, of that special government by which he governs creatures endowed with intelligence.

That every agent acts for an end

Accordingly, we must first show that every agent intends an end by its action.

For in those things which clearly act for an end, we declare the end to be that towards which the movement of the agent tends. When this is reached, the end is said to be reached, and to fail in this is to fail in the end intended, as may be seen in the physician who aims at health, and in a man who runs towards an appointed goal. Nor does it matter as to this whether that which tends to an end be cognitive or not: for just as the target is the end of the archer, so is it the end of the arrow’s flight. Now the movement of every agent tends to something determinate, since it is not from any force that any action proceeds, but heating proceeds from heat, and cooling from cold; hence actions are differentiated by their active principles. Action sometimes terminates in something made (for instance, building terminates in a house, and healing ends in health), while sometimes it does not so terminate (for instance, in understanding and sensation). And if action terminates in something made, the movement of the agent tends by that action towards that thing made, while if it does not terminate in something made, the movement of the agent tends to the action itself. It follows, therefore, that every agent intends an end while acting, which end is sometimes the action itself, sometimes a thing made by the action.

Again. In all things that act for an end, the last end is said to be that beyond which the agent seeks nothing further: thus the physician’s action goes as far as health, and this being attained, his efforts cease. But in the action of every agent, a point can be reached beyond which the agent does not desire to go. Otherwise, actions would tend to infinity, which is impossible; for, since it is not possible to pass through an infinite medium,¹ the agent would never begin to act, because nothing moves towards what it cannot reach. Therefore, every agent acts for an end.

Moreover. If the actions of an agent proceed to infinity, these actions must result either in something made, or not. If the result is something made, the being of that thing made will follow after an infinity of actions. But that which presupposes an infinity of things cannot possibly be, since an infinite medium cannot be passed through. Now impossibility of being argues impossibility of becoming, and it is impossible to make that which cannot become. Therefore, it is impossible for an agent to begin to make a thing whose making presupposes an infinity of actions.

If, however, the result of such actions be not something made, the order of these actions must be either according to the order of active forces (for instance, if a man feels so as to imagine, and imagines to understand, and understands to will), or according to the order of objects (for instance, I consider the body so as to consider the soul, which I consider in order to consider a separate substance, which again I consider so that I may consider God). Now it is not possible to proceed to infinity either in active forces (as neither in the forms of things, as proved in 2 Metaphysics, since the form is the principle of activity) or in objects (as neither is this possible in beings, since there is one first being, as we have proved above).¹ Therefore, it is not possible for agents to proceed to infinity. Consequently, there must be something where, when it is attained, the efforts of the agent cease. Therefore, every agent acts for an end.

Further. In things that act for an end, whatever comes between the first agent and the last end is an end in respect to what precedes, and an active principle in respect of what follows. Hence if the effort of the agent does not tend to something determinate, and if its action, as stated, proceeds to infinity, the active principles must proceed to infinity. This is impossible, as we have shown above. Therefore, the effort of the agent must of necessity tend to something determinate.

Again. Every agent acts either by nature or by intelligence. Now there can be no doubt that those which act by intelligence act for an end, since they act with an intellectual preconception of what they attain by their action, and act through such a preconception, for this is to act by intelligence. Now just as in the preconceiving intellect there exists the entire likeness of the effect that is attained by the action of the intellectual being, so in the natural agent there preexists the similitude of the natural effect by virtue of which the thing’s action is determined to the appointed effect: for fire begets fire, and an olive produces an olive. Therefore, even as that which acts by intelligence tends by its action to a definite end, so also does that which acts by nature. Therefore, every agent acts for an end.

Moreover. Fault is not found save in those things which are for an end, for we do not find fault with one who fails in that to which he is not appointed. Thus we find fault with a physician if he fails to heal, but not with a builder or a grammarian. But we find fault in things done according to art, as when a grammarian fails to speak correctly, and in things that are ruled by nature, as in the case of monstrosities. Therefore, every agent, whether according to nature, or according to art, or acting of set purpose, acts for an end.

Again. Were an agent not to act for a definite effect, all effects would be indifferent to it. Now that which is indifferent to many effects does not produce one rather than another: hence from that which is indifferent to either of two effects, no effect results, unless it be determined by something to one of them. Hence it would be impossible for it to act. Therefore, every agent tends to some definite effect, which is called its end.

There are, however, certain actions which would seem not to be for an end, such as playful and contemplative actions, and those which are done without attention (such as scratching one’s beard and the like), from which some might be led to think that there is an agent that acts not for an end. But we must observe that contemplative actions are not for another end, but are themselves an end. Playful actions are sometimes an end, when one plays for the mere pleasure of play, and sometimes they are for an end, as when we play that afterwards we may study better. Actions done without attention do not proceed from the intellect, but from some sudden act of the imagination, or some natural principle: thus a disordered humor produces an itching sensation and is the cause of a man scratching his beard, which he does without his mind attending to it. Such actions do tend to an end, although outside the order of the intellect.

By this is excluded the error of certain ancient natural philosophers, who maintained that all things happen by natural necessity, thus utterly banishing the final cause from things.

That every agent acts for a good

Hence we must go on to prove that every agent acts for a good.

For that every agent acts for an end clearly follows from the fact that every agent tends to something definite. Now that to which an agent tends definitely must be befitting to that agent, since the latter would not tend to it save on account of some fittingness to it. But that which is befitting to a thing is good for it. Therefore, every agent acts for a good.

Again. All action and movement would seem to be directed in some way to being, either for the preservation of being in the species or in the individual, or for the acquisition of being. Now this existence itself is a good, and for this reason all things desire being. Therefore, all action and movement is for a good.

Furthermore. All action and movement is for some perfection. For if the action itself be the end, it is clearly a second perfection of the agent. And if the action consist in the transformation of external matter, clearly the mover intends to induce some perfection into the thing moved, towards which perfection the movable tends if the movement be natural. Now when we say a thing is perfect, we mean that it is good. Therefore, every action and movement is for a good.

Also. Every agent acts according as it is actual. Now by acting it tends to something similar to itself. Therefore, it tends to an act. But an act has the ratio of good, since evil is not found save in a potency lacking act. Therefore, every action is for a good.

Moreover. The intellectual agent acts for an end as determining on its end. The natural agent, however, though it acts for an end (as proved above),¹ does not determine on its end, since it does not know the ratio of end, but is moved to the end determined for it by another. Now an intellectual agent does not determine the end for itself except under the aspect of good, for the intelligible object does not move except it be considered as a good, which is the object of the will. Therefore, the natural agent is also not moved, nor does it act for an end except insofar as this end is a good, since the end is determined for the natural agent by an appetite. Therefore, every agent acts for a good.

Again. To shun evil and to seek good are in the same ratio, even as movement from below and upward movement are in the same ratio. Now we observe that all things shun evil, for intellectual agents shun a thing for the reason that they apprehend it as an evil, and all natural agents resist corruption, which is the evil of everything, in proportion to their strength. Therefore, all things act for a good.

Again. That which results from the agent’s action beside his intention is said to happen by chance or luck. Now we observe in the works of nature that either always or more often that happens which is best: thus in plants the leaves are so placed as to protect the fruit, and the parts of an animal are so disposed as to conduce to the animal’s safety. Therefore, if this happens beside the intention of the natural agent, it will be the result of chance or luck. But that is impossible, because things that happen always or frequently are not casual or fortuitous, but those which occur seldom. Therefore, the natural agent tends to that which is best: and much more evidently is this so with the intellectual agent. Therefore, every agent intends a good in acting.

Moreover. Whatever is moved is brought to the term of movement by the mover and agent. Therefore, mover and moved tend to the same term. Now that which is moved, since it is in potency, tends to an act, and consequently to perfection and goodness: for by its movement it passes from potency to act. Therefore, mover and agent by moving and acting always intend a good.

Hence the philosophers, in defining the good, said: The good is the object of every appetite; and Dionysius says that all things desire the good and the best.¹

Evil

That evil is unintentional in things

It follows from the above that evil happens to things beside the intention of an agent.

For when the result of an action differs from the intention of the agent, it is clear that such result occurs unintentionally. Now evil differs from good, which every agent intends. Therefore, evil happens beside the intention.

Also. Defect in effect and action results from defect in the principle of action: thus a monstrosity results from a defect in the seed, and limping results from a curvature of the leg. Now an agent acts according as it is possessed of active force, and not according as it suffers from defective power. And according as it acts, it intends the end. Therefore, it intends an end corresponding to its power. Hence whatever follows corresponding to the defective power will be beside the agent’s intention. And this is evil. Therefore, evil occurs beside the intention.

Again. The movement of the thing moved has the same tendency as the motion of the mover. Now the thing moved tends essentially to good, but it tends accidentally and unintentionally to evil. This is most evident in generation and corruption. For matter, while it underlies one form, is in potency to another form, and to the privation of the form which it has already. Thus when it is under the form of air, it is in potency to the form of fire and to the privation of the form of air. And the transformation of matter terminates in both at the same time: in the form of fire by reason of fire being generated, and in the privation of the form of air by reason of the air being corrupted.

But the intention and appetite of matter is not towards the privation, but towards the form: for it does not tend towards the impossible, and it is impossible for matter to be alone under a privation, but it is possible for it to be under a form. Therefore, it is unintentional that it terminates in privation, and it terminates in it insofar as it attains the form which it intends, the necessary result of which is the privation of the other form. Therefore, in generation and corruption the transformation of matter is directed essentially to the form, and privation results unintentionally. And the same must apply to all manner of movement, so that in every movement there is generation and corruption in some respect: for instance, when a thing is changed from white to black, a white thing is corrupted and a black one is made.

Now the good comes as matter is perfected by the form, and potency by its proper act; but evil comes as it is deprived of its proper act. Consequently, whatever is moved intends to attain some good in its movement, and it attains evil beside its intention. Hence, since every agent and mover tends to the good, evil occurs beside the intention of the agent.

Moreover. In those things that act by intelligence or any kind of instinct, intention follows apprehension, because the intention is towards that which is apprehended as an end. Accordingly, if something is attained that has no species in the apprehension, it will be beside the intention: for instance, if one were to intend to eat honey, and were to eat gall believing it was honey, this will be beside the intention. But every intellectual agent tends to something insofar as he considers it under the aspect of good, as we have shown above.¹ Therefore, if this be not a good, but an evil, it will be beside the intention. Therefore, that which acts by intelligence does not work evil except unintentionally. Therefore, since to tend to a good is common to intellectual and natural agents, evil does not ensue from the intention of an agent except beside that intention.

In this sense, Dionysius says that evil is unintentional and involuntary.¹

Arguments that would seem to prove that evil is not beside the intention

There are, however, some objections that would seem to run counter to this conclusion.

For that which occurs beside the intention of the agent is said to happen fortuitously, casually, and seldom.¹ But evil is not said to happen fortuitously and casually, nor does it occur seldom, but always or frequently. For in the physical order generation is always accompanied by corruption. And in voluntary agents sin is of frequent occurrence, since it is as difficult to behave virtuously as to find the center of a circle, as Aristotle states.² Therefore, it would seem that evil is not an unintentional occurrence.

Again. Aristotle says expressly that vice is voluntary.¹ He proves this from the fact that a man does an injustice voluntarily, and it is absurd to suppose that the man who does unjust actions voluntarily does not wish to be unjust, and that he who rapes voluntarily does not wish to be incontinent; and again from the fact that legislators punish evil-doers as doing evil voluntarily. Therefore, evil would seem not to be unintentional or involuntary.

In order that the solution of the arguments here give may be made clear, we must observe that evil may be considered either as in a substance, or as in its action. Evil is in a substance through its lacking something natural and due to it, for it is not evil that a man does not have wings, because it is not natural for him to have them; and again if a man does not have blond hair, this is no evil, for although he may have it naturally, it is not due to him. But it is an evil if he has no hands, which are natural and due to him if he is perfect, and yet it is not an evil to a bird. Now every privation, if we take it properly and strictly, is the lack of something natural and due. Consequently, the aspect of evil is always understood thus in a privation.

Matter, since it is in potency to all forms, is adapted to all of them by nature, yet no one is due to it, since it can be actually perfect without any particular one. Nevertheless, some one of them is due to one of those things that are made of matter: for there can be no water without the form of water, nor can there be fire without the form of fire. Accordingly, the privation of such a form in relation to matter is not an evil to matter, but in relation to that thing of which it is the form, it is its evil. Thus the privation of the form of fire is an evil of fire.

And since privations as well as habits and forms are not said to exist except insofar as they are in a subject, if privation be an evil in relation to the subject in which it is, it will be an evil simply; otherwise, it will be the evil of something but not simply. Hence that a man be deprived of a hand is an evil simply, but that matter be deprived of the form of air is not an evil simply, but an evil of the air.

On the other hand, privation of order or due proportion in an action is an evil of the action. And since to every action order and proportion are due, such a privation in an action must be an evil simply.

Accordingly, taking these remarks into account, we must note that what is unintentional is not always fortuitous or casual, as the first argument stated. For if that which is unintentional be always or frequently the result of that which was intended, it will not happen fortuitously or casually. Thus if a man intends to enjoy the sweetness of wine, and becomes drunk through drinking, this will be neither fortuitous nor casual; it would be casual if such a result were to occur only in few.

Therefore, the evil of natural corruption, although it ensue beside the intention of the generator, nevertheless always follows, since the presence of one form is always accompanied by the privation of another. Therefore, corruption does not ensue casually, nor even seldom, although sometimes privation is not an evil simply, but the evil of some particular thing, as stated above. If, however, the privation be such as to deprive the thing generated of that which is due to it, it will be casual and an evil simply, as in the birth of monstrosities: for this does not follow of necessity from that which was intended, but is opposed to it, since the agent intends the perfection of the thing generated.

Evil of action occurs in natural agents through a defect in the active force. Hence if the agent’s force be defective, this evil ensues beside the intention; yet it will not be casual, because it follows of necessity from such an agent (provided always that the agent in question always or frequently suffer this defect). But it will be casual if this defect seldom accompanies this agent.

In voluntary agents the intention is directed to some particular good, if the action is to follow: for movement is not caused by universals but by particulars, in which are actions. Accordingly, if the good that is intended is accompanied always or frequently by the privation of a rational good, moral evil ensues not casually, but either always or frequently, as in the case of a man who desires intercourse with a woman for the sake of pleasure, to which pleasure is connected the inordination of adultery; hence the evil of adultery is not a casual sequel. It would, however, be a casual evil, if sin were to ensue seldom from what he intends, as in one who, while firing at a bird, kills a man.

That anyone should intend such goods which frequently result in privation of a rational good is due to the fact that many live a sensuous life, because sensible things are the more manifest to us, and move more efficaciously in a world of individual things among which operation takes place. Privation of the rational good ensues from many goods of that kind.

Hence it follows that, although evil is beside the intention, it is nevertheless voluntary, as the second argument states—accidentally, however, and not essentially. For intention is directed to the last end, which we will for its own sake, while the will is directed also to that which we will for the sake of something else, even though we would not will it simply. For instance, the man who throws his cargo overboard for the sake of safety does not intend the throwing of his cargo, but safety, and he wills the throwing of the cargo not simply, but for the sake of safety. In like manner, for the sake of obtaining a sensible good a man wills to perform an inordinate action, neither intending the inordinateness nor willing it simply, but for the sake of something in particular. Therefore, sin and vice are said to be voluntary in the same way as the throwing of a ship’s cargo into the sea.

The third objection is solved on the same lines. For the change of corruption is never found without the change of generation: consequently, neither is the end of corruption found without the end of generation. Hence nature does not intend the end of corruption apart from the end of generation, but both at the same time. For it is not the absolute intention of nature that there be no water, but that there be air, the existence of which precludes the existence of air. Accordingly, nature intends directly that there should be air; but it does not intend that there should not be water except insofar as this is involved by the existence of air. Therefore, privations are not intended by nature directly, but accidentally, whereas forms are intended directly.

From the foregoing it is clear that what is evil simply is utterly beside the intention in the operations of nature (for example, the birth of monstrosities), but what is evil not simply, but relatively is intended by nature not directly, but accidentally.

That evil is not an essence

From this it follows that no essence is evil in itself.

For evil, as we have said,¹ is nothing else but the privation of what is connatural and due to anyone, for the word ‘evil’ is used in this sense by all. Now privation is not an essence, but is the nonexistence of something in a substance.² Therefore, evil is not a real essence.

Again. A thing has being in respect of its essence. Now insofar as it has being, it has a share of good: for if good is what all desire, being itself must be called a good, since all things desire being. Therefore, a thing is good insofar as it has an essence. But good and evil are opposed to each other. Therefore, nothing is evil insofar as it has an essence. Therefore, no essence is evil.

Moreover. Every thing is either an agent or something made. But evil cannot be an agent, for that which acts, acts inasmuch as it is actually existing and perfect. In like manner, neither can it be something made, since the term of every generation is a form and a good. Therefore, nothing is evil as to its essence.

Again. Nothing tends to its contrary, for everything desires what is like and becoming to it. Now everything intends a good by acting, as we proved above.¹ Therefore, no being, as such, is evil.

Further. Every essence is natural to some thing. For if it be in the genus of substance, it is the very nature of that thing. And if it be in the genus of accident, it must flow from the principles of some substance, and thus will be natural to that substance, although perhaps it may not be natural to some other substance. Thus heat is natural to fire, although it is not natural to water. Now that which is evil in itself cannot be natural to a thing. For it belongs to the very nature of evil to be the privation of that which is connatural and due to a thing. Therefore, evil, since it is the privation of what is natural, cannot be natural to a thing. Hence whatever is in a thing naturally is good for that thing, and it is an evil if it be lacking. Therefore, no essence is evil in itself.

Moreover. Whatever has an essence is either itself a form, or has a form, since it is by the form that each thing is placed in a genus or species. Now a form, as such, has the ratio of goodness: for it is the principle of action, and the end which every maker intends, and the act by which whatever has a form is perfect. Therefore, whatever has an essence, as such, is good. Therefore, evil has not an essence.

Further. Being is divided into act and potency. Now act, as such, is a good, because a thing is perfect insofar as it is in act. Again, potency is a good, for potency tends to act, as clearly may be seen in every kind of movement. Also, it is proportionate to act, and not contrary to it. Moreover, it is in the same genus as act. Also, privation does not apply to it save accidentally. Therefore, everything that is, in whatever way it is, is good insofar as it is a being. Therefore, evil has not an essence.

Again. It has been proved in the second book¹ of this work that every being, in whatever way it is, is from God: and we have shown in the first book² that God is perfect goodness. Since, then, evil cannot be the effect of good, it is impossible for a being, as such, to be evil.

Hence it is that it is said: God saw everything that he had made, and it was very good (Gen 1:31); and: He has made everything good in their time (Eccl 3:11); and: Everything created by God is good (1 Tim 4:4).

Again, Dionysius says that evil is not a thing that exists, that is, in itself, nor is it something in things that exist,¹ as an accident, like whiteness or blackness.

By this is refuted the error of the Manicheans who held that there are certain things evil by their very nature.

Arguments whereby it seems to be proved that evil is a nature or a thing

It would seem that certain arguments militate against the aforesaid statement.

For each thing derives its species from its proper difference. Now evil is a specific difference in certain genera (namely, in moral habits and acts), because as virtue is a good habit according to its species, so the contrary vice is an evil habit according to its species, and the same applies to virtuous and vicious acts. Therefore, evil gives certain things their species. Therefore, it is an essence, and is natural to certain things.

Again. Aristotle in his Predicaments says that good and evil are the genera of contraries.¹ Now every genus has an essence or nature: for there are no species or differences of non-being, so that what is not cannot be a genus. Therefore, evil is an essence and a nature.

Also. Whatever is active is a thing. Now evil as such is active: for it counteracts and corrupts good. Therefore, evil as such is a thing.

Moreover. Whatever can be more or less must be a thing admitting of degrees, since negations and privations do not admit of being more or less. Now among evils we find one to be worse than another. Therefore, it seems that evil must be a thing.

These objections, however, are easily solved. For evil and good in morals are said to be specific differences, as the first argument stated, because morality depends on the will: for a thing comes under the head of morals so far as it is voluntary. Now the will’s object is the end and the good. Hence moral matters are specified by their end, even as natural actions are by the form of their active principle (for instance, the action of heating is specified by heat). Since, then, good and evil are predicated in respect of the universal direction to an end, or the privation of that direction, it follows that in morals the first difference is that of good and evil. Now for one genus there must be one first measure, and the measure in morals is reason. Consequently, good and evil in moral matters must depend on the end appointed by reason.

Accordingly, in morals, that which derives its species from an end that is in accord with reason is said to be specifically good, and that which derives its species from an end discordant from reason is said to be specifically bad. And yet this end, though it sets aside the end appointed by reason, is nevertheless some kind of good, such as a pleasurable object of the senses, or something similar. Hence in some animals this end is good, and even in man when it is moderated by reason. Also, it happens that what is evil for one is good for another. Therefore, evil, so far as it is a specific difference in the moral genus, does not denote a thing essentially evil, but something that is good in itself but evil for man, insofar as it removes the order of reason, which is man’s good.

From this it follows that evil and good are contraries insofar as they are applied to the moral genus, and not in their absolute signification as the second objection stated: but evil, as such, is a privation of good.

In the same way we may understand the saying that evil and good, taken in the moral order, are the genera of contraries, on which the third objection was based. For of all moral contraries, either both are evil (as prodigality and stinginess), or one is good and the other evil (as liberality and stinginess). Hence moral evil is both a genus and a difference, not through being the privation of a good appointed by reason (from which it is called evil), but through the nature of the action or habit that is directed to an end incompatible with the right end appointed by reason. Thus a blind man is a human individual not as being blind, but as being this particular man, and irrational is a difference of animal not through the privation of reason, but on account of this particular nature to which privation of reason is consequent.

It may also be said that Aristotle asserts evil and good to be genera not in his own opinion, since he does not number them among the ten first genera in each of which some contrariety is found, but according to the opinion of Pythagoras, who affirmed that good and evil are supreme genera and first principles. Under each of them he placed ten supreme contraries. Under the good is the definite, the equal, the one, on the right hand, the male, the resting, the straight, the luminous, the square, and lastly the good. Under evil he placed the indefinite, the unequal, the manifold, the left-hand, the female, the moving, the crooked, darkness, the oblong, and lastly the evil. In this way and in several passages of his works on logic, he employs examples according to the opinions of other philosophers, as being probable at the time.

Moreover, this saying contains a certain amount of truth, for it is impossible that a probable statement should be utterly false. Now of all contraries one is perfect, while the other is incomplete, as containing some kind of privation: thus white and hot are perfect, while cold and black are imperfect, as indicating a kind of privation. Since, then, incompleteness and privation are a kind of evil, while every perfection and completeness comes under the head of good, it follows that in contraries, one seems to be comprised under good while the other approaches to the notion of evil. In this way, good and evil seem to be genera of all contraries.

Also in this way it is clear how evil is opposed to good, which was the line taken by the fourth objection. For insofar as form and end, which have the aspect of good and are the true principles of action, involve privation of a contrary form and end, the action that is consequent upon this form and end is ascribed to privation and evil—accidentally, however, since privation as such is not a principle of action. Rightly, therefore, does Dionysius say that evil does not oppose good, except by virtue of a good: and in itself it is powerless and weak,¹ as not being a principle of action. Evil, however, is said to corrupt good not only as acting by virtue of a good, as explained, but formally by itself, even as blindness is said to corrupt the sight, through being the very corruption of sight. In the same way whiteness is said to color the wall, because it is itself the color of the wall.

A thing is said to be a greater or lesser evil by reason of its distance from the good. For thus it is that things which imply privation admit of degrees, as inequality and unlikeness; thus to be more unequal is to be more distant from equality, and to be more unlike is to go further from likeness. Hence that which is more deprived of good is said to be more evil, as being more distant from good. But privations are subject to increase not as having a kind of essence like qualities and forms, as the fifth argument presumed, but through the increase of the cause of privation. Hence air is darker according as the light is impeded by the interposition of more obstacles, for thus it is further removed from a participation of light.

Evil is also said to be in the world not as though it had an essence, or were some thing, as the sixth argument supposed, but insofar as a thing is said to be evil with evil, even as blindness and privation of any kind is said to exist because an animal is blind with blindness. For being is predicated in two ways, as the Philosopher teaches.¹ First, as indicating the essence of a thing, and thus it is divided into the ten categories: in this way no privation can be called a being. Second, as denoting a truth of composition: in this way evil and privation are called a being insofar as a thing is said to be deprived by a privation.

That the cause of evil is a good

We may conclude from the foregoing that evil is not caused except by a good.

For were some evil caused by an evil, since evil does not act save by virtue of a good, as proved above,¹ it follows that good itself is the primary cause of evil.

Again. That which is not, is not the cause of anything. Therefore, every cause must be some being. Now evil is not a being, as shown above.¹ Therefore, evil cannot be the cause of anything. Hence if evil be caused by something, this must be a good.

Again. Whatever is properly and by itself the cause of something intends its proper effect. Hence, if evil by itself be the cause of something, it would intend its proper effect, namely, evil. But this is false, for it has been shown¹ that every agent intends a good. Therefore, evil is not the cause of anything by itself, but only accidentally. Now every accidental cause is reduced to an essential cause. But good alone can be an essential cause, and evil cannot be an essential cause. Therefore, evil is caused by good.

Since, however, evil and good are opposite to each other, and one opposite cannot be the cause of the other except accidentally (thus a cold thing causes heat, as stated in Physics),¹ it follows that good cannot be the effective cause of evil except accidentally.

In the physical order, this accident may be on the part of the agent, or on the part of the effect. On the part of the agent, as when the agent’s power is defective, the result being that the action is defective, and the effect deficient. Thus when the power of the digestive organ is defective, the result is imperfect digestion of the food and an undigested humor, which are physical evils. Now it is accidental to the agent as such that its power be defective, it acts not as having a defective power, but as having some power; if it lacked power altogether, it would not act at all. Accordingly, evil is caused accidentally on the part of the agent, insofar as the agent’s power is defective. Hence it is said that evil has not an efficient, but a deficient, cause: evil does not follow from an active cause except insofar as this cause is defective in power, and in this respect it is not effective. And it comes to the same if defect in the action and effect results from a defect in the instrument, or in any thing else required for the agent’s action—as when the motive power causes a limp on account of crookedness in the tibia—for the agent acts by both its power and its instrument.

On the part of the effect, evil is caused by good accidentally, either on the part of the matter of the effect, or on the part of its force. For if the matter be indisposed to receive the impression of the agent, the effect must be defective: thus a deformed offspring results from an indisposition of matter. Nor is it put down to defect in the agent if it fails to transform an indisposed matter to perfect act, since to each natural agent there is appointed a power in proportion to its nature. If it does not go beyond that power, it will not on that account fall short of its power, but only when it falls short of the measure of power due to it by nature.

On the part of the effect’s form, evil occurs accidentally insofar as one form necessarily involves the privation of another; hence the generating of one thing is necessarily followed by the corruption of another. But this evil is not an evil of the effect intended by the agent, as was made clear above,¹ but of the other thing.

Accordingly, it is evident that evil is caused only accidentally by a good. And the same applies to things produced by art. For art imitates nature in its work,¹ and faults occur in both in the same way.

In morals, however, the case would seem to be different. For moral fault does not seem to follow from a defective power, since weakness of power either wholly excludes, or at least diminishes, moral fault; for weakness does not deserve punishment, which is due to guilt, but rather mercy and pardon, seeing that moral fault must be voluntary and not necessary. But if we consider the matter carefully, we shall find that there is a likeness in one respect, and unlikeness in another. There is unlikeness in that moral fault is considered in the action alone, and not in some effect produced, for moral virtues are directed not to making but to doing. But the arts are directed to making, for which reason it has been stated that faults occur in them in the same way as in nature. Therefore, moral evil is considered as resulting not from the matter or form of the effect, but only from the agent.

Now, in moral actions four active principles are to be found in due order. The first of these is the executive power, namely, the motive force by which the members are moved to execute the will’s command. Hence this power is moved by the will, which is a second principle. And the will is moved by the judgment of the apprehensive power, which judges that a particular thing is good or evil (which are objects of the will, the one moving to pursuit, the other to flight). Again, the apprehensive power is moved by the thing apprehended. Hence the first active principle in moral actions is the thing apprehended; the second is the apprehensive power; the third is the will; and the fourth is the motive force, which carries out the command of reason.

Now the act of the executive power already presupposes moral good or evil. For these external acts do not belong to morals except insofar as they are voluntary. Therefore, if the act of the will be good, the external act will also be good, and evil, if it be evil. And there would be nothing savoring of moral evil if the defect in a defective external act has nothing to do with the will, for limping is not a moral but a physical evil. Therefore, a defect in this executive power either wholly excuses or diminishes moral fault. Again, the act whereby the object moves the apprehensive power is devoid of moral fault: for the visible object moves the sight according to the natural order of things, and so too does every object move a passive power. Again, the act of the apprehensive power, considered in itself, is devoid of moral fault, since a defect in it either excuses or diminishes moral fault in the same way as a defect in the executive power: for weakness and ignorance equally excuse or diminish sin. It follows, then, that moral fault is found first and chiefly in the sole act of the will: an act is logically called moral precisely because it is voluntary. Therefore, the root and origin of moral fault is to be sought in the act of the will.

But there seems to be a difficulty attendant upon this inquiry. For, since a defective act results from a defect in the active principle, we must presuppose a defect in the will to precede the moral fault. And if this defect be natural, it will always adhere to the will, so that the will must be guilty of moral fault whenever it acts—but acts of virtue prove this to be false. But if the defect be voluntary, it is already a moral fault, the cause of which will still remain to be sought: thus the reason will carry on indefinitely. Accordingly, we must say that the defect already existing in the will is not natural, lest it follow that the will sins in every act. Further, neither is it casual or fortuitous, for then there would be no moral fault in us, since casual things are unforeseen and outside the domain of reason. Therefore, it is voluntary. Yet it is not a moral fault, lest we be forced to proceed indefinitely. How this may be remains to be considered.

The perfection of every active principle depends on a higher active principle, for the second agent acts by virtue of the first. Therefore, while the second agent remains subordinate to the first, it acts unfailingly; it fails in acting if it should happen to stray from the order of the first agent, as in the case of an instrument that falls short of the first agent’s movement. Now it has been said that, in the order of moral actions, two principles precede the will, namely, the apprehensive power and the apprehended object (which is the end). And since for each movable there is a corresponding proper motive power, every apprehensive power is not the motive force due to every appetitive power, but this one belongs to this, and another to that. Accordingly, just as the proper motive force of the sensitive appetite is the apprehensive power of the senses, so the proper motive force of the will is the reason.

Again, since the reason is able to apprehend many goods and many ends, and each one has its proper end, the will also must have as its end and first motive force not any good, but a definite good. Hence when the will tends to its act through being moved by the apprehension of reason that presents to it its proper good, a right action follows. But when the will breaks away at the apprehension of the sensitive power, or even of the reason which presents some good other than its proper good, there follows in the will’s act a moral fault.

Consequently, the sin of action in the will is preceded by lack of order to reason and to its proper end. To reason, as when the will, on the sudden apprehension of a sense, tends to a good that is pleasurable to sense. To its due end, as when by deliberating the reason arrives at some good which is not good now, or in some particular way, and yet the will tends to that good as though it were its proper good. Now this lack of order is voluntary, for it is in the will’s power to will or not to will. Again, it is in the will’s power that the reason actually consider the matter, or cease from considering it, or that it consider this or that matter. Nor is this lack of order a moral evil: for if the reason were to consider nothing, or to consider any good whatever, as yet there is no sin until the will tends to an undue end. And this itself is an act of the will.

Accordingly, both in the physical and in the moral order, it is clear that evil is not caused by good except accidentally.

That the subject of evil is a good

From what we have said it can be shown that every evil is seated in some good.

For evil cannot exist by itself, since it has no essence, as was proved above.¹ Therefore, evil needs to be in some subject. Now every subject is a good insofar as it is a substance, as is evident from what has been said.² Therefore, every evil is in a good.

Also. Evil is a privation, as we have shown.¹ Now privation and the lacking form are in the same subject. But the subject of a form is a being in potency to that form, and this being is a good: for potency and act are in the same genus. Therefore, privation, which is an evil, is in some good as its subject.

Moreover. A thing is called evil because it hurts.¹ But this it only because it hurts a good, for it is good to hurt evil, since the corruption of evil is good. Now it would not hurt a good formally, unless it were in that good: thus blindness is hurtful to a man insofar as it is in him. Therefore, evil must be in a good.

Again. Evil is not caused except by good, and then only accidentally.¹ Now whatever is accidental is reducible to that which is essential. Consequently, together with the evil effect that is caused accidentally by a good, there must be some good which is the essential effect of that good, so as to be the foundation of that evil. For what is accidental is founded on what is essential.

Seeing, however, that good and evil are mutually opposed, and that one of two opposites cannot be the subject of the other, but expels it, someone at a cursory glance might think it unreasonable to state that good is the subject of evil.

And yet it is not unreasonable if the truth be sought thoroughly. For good, even as being, is predicated universally, since every being as such is good, as we have shown.¹ Now it is not unreasonable that non-being should have being for its subject, because every privation is a non-being, and yet its subject is a substance, which is a being. But non-being is not in an opposite being as its subject, for blindness is not universal non-being, but a particular kind of non-being, namely, privation of sight. Therefore, it is not in sight as its subject, but in an animal. In like manner, evil does not have the opposite good for its subject—for it is the privation of this good—but it has some other good. Thus moral evil is in a natural good, and an evil of nature (that is, privation of a form) is in matter, which is a good as a being in potency.

That evil does not entirely destroy good

It is clear from the foregoing that however much evil be increased, it can never destroy good entirely.

For there must always remain the subject of evil, as long as evil remains. Now the subject of evil is a good.¹ Therefore, some good must always remain.

But seeing that evil may be increased indefinitely, and that good is always diminished by the increase of evil, it would seem that good is decreased by evil indefinitely. Now a good that can be diminished by evil must be finite, because infinite good is incompatible with evil, as we proved in the first book.¹ Therefore, it seems that sometimes a good is wholly destroyed by evil, since if something is subtracted indefinitely from the finite, this must at length be destroyed through such subtraction.

Nor may it be said, as some say, that if the subsequent subtraction be made in the same proportion as the preceding one, and continue thus indefinitely, the good cannot be destroyed, as may be seen in the division of a continuous quantity. Thus if from a line two cubits long you subtract half, and from the remainder subtract half, and continue thus indefinitely, there will always remain something to be divided. But in this process of division that which is subtracted afterwards must always be less in quantity: for half of the whole which was subtracted at first is greater in absolute quantity than half of the half, although the same proportion remains. This, however, in no way applies to the diminution of good by evil. Because the more a good is diminished by an evil, the weaker it becomes, and thus it will be more capable of diminution by the subsequent evil. Again, this subsequent evil may be equal to or greater than the previous one: hence it will not happen that a smaller quantity of good will always be subsequently subtracted from the good, even if the same proportion be observed.

We must therefore find a different solution. It is clear from what has been already said¹ that evil entirely destroys the opposite good, as blindness destroys sight; yet there must remain the good which is the subject of that evil. And this subject, as such, has the aspect of a good considered as in potency to the act of the good which is removed by the evil. Therefore, the less it is in potency to that good, the less good will it be. Now a subject becomes less in potency to a form not indeed by the mere subtraction of some part of that subject, nor by the subtraction of some part of its potency, but by the fact that the potency is hindered by a contrary act from reaching to the act of the form. Thus, according as heat is the more increased in a subject, the less is that subject potentially cold. Therefore, good is diminished by evil more by the addition of its contrary than by the subtraction of good. This applies also to what we have said of evil. For we have said² that evil is incidental beside the intention of the agent, which always intends some good, the result of which is the exclusion of some other good opposed to it. Hence, the more we increase that intended good (the result of which is an evil beside the agent’s intention), the more the potency to the contrary good will be diminished. It is thus that the diminution of good by evil increases.

Now this diminution of good by evil cannot go on indefinitely in the physical order. Because all physical forms and forces are limited, and reach a certain term beyond which they cannot reach. Consequently, neither can a contrary form, nor can the power of a contrary agent, be increased indefinitely, so as to result in the indefinite diminution of good by evil.

On the other hand, this diminution can proceed indefinitely in moral matters, because the intellect and will have no limit fixed to their actions. For the intellect can proceed indefinitely in understanding; hence the mathematical species of numbers and figures are infinite. In like manner, the will goes on indefinitely in willing, since he who wills to commit a theft can so will again, and so on to infinity. Now the more the will tends to undue ends, the more difficult is it for it to return to its proper and due end, as is evident in those who have acquired a vicious habit through sinning frequently. Hence the good of natural aptitude may be diminished indefinitely by moral evil, yet it will never be entirely destroyed, and will always accompany the nature that remains.

That evil has a cause of some kind

It can be shown from what precedes that, although evil has no essential cause, yet every evil must have an accidental cause.

For whatever is in a thing as its subject must have a cause, since it results either from the principles of the subject, or from some external cause. Now evil is in good as its subject, as shown above.¹ Therefore, evil must have a cause.

Again. That which is in potency to either of two opposites is not actuated by either except by some cause, for no potency actuates itself. Now evil is the privation of that which is connatural and due to anyone,¹ since it is on account of this that a thing is said to be evil. Therefore, evil is in a subject that is in potency to evil and its opposite. Therefore, evil must have some cause.

Moreover. Whatever is in a thing in addition to its nature supervenes through some other cause, for whatever is natural to it is permanent unless something else is in the way. Hence a stone is not borne upwards unless someone throws it, and water is not heated unless something makes it hot. Now evil, in whatever subject it is, is always there in addition to the nature of that subject, since it is the privation of what is connatural and due to a thing. Therefore, evil must always have a cause, either essential or accidental.

Further. Every evil is consequent to some good;¹ thus corruption is consequent to generation. Now every good has a cause, except the highest good, in which there is no evil, as proved in the first book.² Therefore, every evil has a cause from which it results accidentally.

That evil is an accidental cause

From the same premises it is clear that although evil is not a cause in itself, it is nevertheless an accidental cause.

For if A is the cause of B in itself, whatever is accidental to A is the accidental cause of B. Thus white, which is accidental to the builder, is the accidental cause of the house. Now every evil is in some good.¹ And every good is in some way the cause of something, for matter is in some way the cause of form, and in some way the reverse is true; the same applies to the agent and the end. Therefore, there does not follow an indefinite sequence in causes if each thing be the cause of something else, because the circle to be observed in causes and effects is composed of various kinds of cause. Therefore, evil is an accidental cause.

Again. Evil is a privation, as shown above.¹ Now privation is an accidental principle in movable things, even as matter and form are essentially principles. Therefore, evil is an accidental cause of something.

Further. If we run through all the kinds of cause, we find that evil is an accidental cause. It is so in the species of efficient cause, because defect in effect and action results from a defect in the efficient cause. It is so in the species of material cause, because a fault in the effect arises from indisposition in the matter. It is so in the species of formal cause, because every form is accompanied by the privation of the opposite form. And it is so in the species of final cause, because evil is united to the undue end, inasmuch as the due end is hindered thereby.

It is therefore evident that evil is an accidental cause, and cannot be a cause essentially.

That there is no highest evil

It follows from this that there cannot be a highest evil which is the principle of all evils.

For a highest evil must exclude the association of all good, just as the highest good is that which is wholly disconnected from all evil. Now there cannot be an evil entirely apart from good, for it has been proved that evil is seated in some good.¹ Therefore, nothing is supremely evil.

Again. If anything be supremely evil, it must be essentially evil, even as the supreme good is that which is essentially good. But this is impossible, since evil has no essence, as was shown above.¹ Therefore, it is impossible to suppose a supreme evil that is the principle of evils.

Also. That which is a first principle is not caused by anything. Now every evil is caused by a good, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, evil is not a first principle.

Further. Evil does not act except by virtue of a good, as we have proved.¹ But a first principle acts by its own virtue. Therefore, evil cannot be a first principle.

Again. Every evil has an accidental cause, as we have shown.¹ But a first principle has no cause, either essential or accidental. Therefore, evil cannot be the first cause in any genus.

Furthermore. An essential cause precedes one that is accidental.¹ But evil is none but an accidental cause, as we have proved.² Therefore, evil cannot be a first principle.

By this is refuted the error of the Manicheans, who maintained the existence of a highest evil, which is the first principle of all evils.

The end of things

That the end of everything is a good

Accordingly, if every agent acts for some good, as we have shown above,¹ it follows that good is the end of each thing. For everything is directed by its action to some end, since either the action itself is an end, or the end of the action is also the end of the agent, and this is its good.

Again. The end of a thing is the term of its appetite. Now the appetite of a thing terminates in a good, for the Philosopher defines good as that which all things desire.¹ Therefore, the end of everything is a good.

Moreover. That toward which a thing tends while it is without it, and in which it rests when it has it, is its end. Now anything that is without its proper perfection is moved towards it as far as lies in it, and if it have that perfection, it rests in it. Therefore, the end of a thing is its perfection. But the perfection of a thing is its good. Therefore, everything is directed to good as its end.

That all things are directed to one end, which is God

From the foregoing it is clear that all things are directed to one good as their last end.

For if nothing tends to something as its end except insofar as this is good,¹ it follows that good as such is an end. Consequently, that which is the supreme good is supremely the end of all. Now there is but one supreme good, namely God, as we have shown in the first book.² Therefore, all things are directed to the supreme good, namely God, as their end.

Again. That which is supreme in any genus is the cause of everything in that genus:¹ thus fire, which is supremely hot, is the cause of heat in other bodies. Therefore, the supreme good, namely God, is the cause of goodness in all things good. Therefore, he is the cause of every end being an end, since whatever is an end is such insofar as it is good. Now the cause of a thing being such is yet more so.² Therefore, God is supremely the end of all things.

Further. In every series of causes, the first cause is more a cause than the second causes, since the second cause is not a cause save through the first. Therefore, that which is the first cause in the series of final causes must be more the final cause of each thing than the proximate final cause. Now God is the first cause in the series of final causes, for he is supreme in the order of good things. Therefore, he is the end of each thing more even than any proximate end.

Moreover. In all mutually subordinate ends the last must be the end of each preceding end. Thus if a potion be mixed to be given to a sick man, and is given to him that he may be purged, and he be purged that he may be lowered, and lowered that he may be healed, it follows that health is the end of the lowering, and of the purging, and of those that precede. Now all things are subordinate in various degrees of goodness to the one supreme good that is the cause of all goodness, and so, since good has the aspect of an end, all things are subordinate to God as preceding ends under the last end. Therefore, God must be the end of all.

Again. Order among ends is consequent to the order among agents: for just as the supreme agent moves all second agents, so must all the ends of second agents be directed to the end of the supreme agent, since whatever the supreme agent does, it does for its own end. Now the supreme agent is the active principle of the actions of all inferior agents by moving all to their actions, and consequently to their ends. Hence it follows that all the ends of second agents are directed by the first agent to its proper end. Now the first agent in all things is God, as we proved in the second book.¹ And his will has no other end but his own goodness, which is himself, as we showed in the first book.² Therefore, all things, whether they were made by him immediately or by means of secondary causes, are directed to God as their end. But this applies to all things: for as we proved in the second book,³ there can be nothing that does not have its being from him. Therefore, all things are directed to God as their end.

Moreover. The last end of every maker, as such, is himself: for what we make we use for our own sake, and if at any time a man make a thing for the sake of something else, it is referred to his own good (whether his use, his pleasure, or his virtue). Now God is the cause of all things being made: of some immediately, of others by means of other causes, as we have explained above.¹ Therefore, he is the end of all things.

Hence it is written: The Lord has made everything for himself (Prov 16:4); and: I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last (Rev 22:13).

How God is the end of things

It remains to ask how God is the end of all things, and this shall be made clear from what has been said.

For he is the end of all things, yet so as to precede all in being.¹ Now there is an end which, though it holds the first place in causing insofar as it is in the intention, is nevertheless last in execution. This applies to any end which the agent sets up by his action: thus the physician by his action sets up health in the sick man, which is nevertheless his end. There is also an end which, just as it precedes in causing, so also does it precede in being. Even so that which one intends to acquire by one’s motion or action is said to be one’s end: for instance, fire seeks to reach a higher place by its movement, and the king seeks to take a city by fighting. Accordingly, God is the end of things as something to be obtained by each thing in its own way.

Again. God is at once the last end of things and the first agent, as we have shown.¹ Now the end effected by the agent’s action cannot be the first agent, but rather is it the agent’s effect. God, therefore, cannot be the end of things as though he were something effected, but only as something already existing and to be acquired.

Further. If a thing acts for the sake of something already in existence, and if by its action some result ensues, something through the agent’s action must accrue to the thing for the sake of which it acts: thus soldiers fight for the cause of their captain, to whom victory accrues, which the soldiers bring about by their actions. Now nothing can accrue to God from the action of anything whatever, since his goodness is perfect in every way, as we proved in the first book.¹ It follows, then, that God is the end of things not as something made or effected by them, nor as though he obtained something from things, but only in this way: things obtain him.

Moreover. The effect must tend to the end in the same way as the agent acts for the end. Now God, who is the first agent of all things, does not act as though he gained something by his action, but as bestowing something by it, since he is not in potency so that he can acquire something, but solely in perfect act, by which he is able to bestow. Things, therefore, are not directed to God as to an end that can gain something, but that they may obtain himself from him according to their measure, since he is their end.

That all things tend to be like unto God

From the fact that they acquire the divine goodness, creatures are made like unto God. Therefore, if all things tend to God as their last end so as to acquire his goodness,¹ it follows that the last end of things is to become like unto God.

Moreover. The agent is said to be the end of the effect insofar as the effect tends to be like the agent. Therefore, the form of the generator is the end of the act of generation.¹ Now God is the end of things in such a way as to be also their first active cause. Therefore, all things tend to a likeness to God as their last end.

Again. Things give evidence that they naturally desire to be;¹ if any are corruptible, they naturally resist corruptives, and tend to where they can be safeguarded, as the fire tends upwards and earth downwards. Now all things have being insofar as they are like God, who is self-subsistent being, for they are beings only by participation. Therefore, all things desire as their last end to be like God.

Again. Each thing by its movement or action tends to some good as its end, as proved above.¹ Now a thing partakes of the good insofar as it is like to the highest goodness, which is God. Therefore, all things tend to a divine likeness as their last end by their movements and actions.

How things imitate the divine goodness

From what has been said it is clear that the last end of all things is to become like God. Now that which has properly the aspect of an end is the good.¹ Therefore, properly speaking, things tend to become like to God insofar as he is good.

Now, creatures do not acquire goodness in the way in which it is in God, although each thing imitates the divine goodness according to its mode. For the divine goodness is simple, being all in one, as it were. For the divine being contains the whole fullness of perfection, as we proved in the first book.¹ Therefore, since a thing is good so far as it is perfect, God’s being is his perfect goodness: in God, to be, to live, to be wise, to be happy, and whatever else is seen to pertain to perfection and goodness, are one and the same, as though the total of his goodness were God’s very being. Again, God’s being is the substance of the existing God.² But this cannot be so in other things. For it was proved in the second book³ that no created substance is its own being. Therefore, if a thing is good so far as it is, and nothing is its own being, then nothing its own goodness, and each one is good by having a share of good, even as by having a share of being it is a being.

Also. All creatures are not placed on the same level of goodness. For in some the substance is both form and act, namely, such as are competent to be actually and to be good by the mere fact that they exist. But in others, the substance is composed of matter and form; such are competent to be actually and to be good, but by some part of their being (namely, their form). Accordingly, God’s substance is his goodness, but a simple substance participates in goodness by the very fact that it exists, and a composite substance by some part of itself.

In this third degree of substances, diversity is to be found again in respect of being. For in some composed of matter and form, the form fills the entire potency of matter so that the matter retains no potency to another form. Consequently, neither is there in any other matter a potency to this same form. Such are the heavenly bodies, which consist of their entire matter. In others the form does not fill the whole potency of matter, so that the matter retains a potency to another form, and in another part of matter there remains potency to this form: for instance, in the elements and their compounds. Since, then, privation is the absence in substance of what can be in substance, it is clear that together with this form which does not fill the whole potency of matter, there is associated the privation of a form, which privation cannot be associated with a substance whose form fills the whole potency of matter, nor with that which is a form essentially, and much less with that one whose essence is its very being. And seeing that it is clear that there can be no movement where there is no potency to something else, for movement is the act of that which is in potency,¹ it is clear that in this last order of substances, good is changeable and has an admixture of the opposite evil, since evil is the privation of good. This cannot occur in the higher orders of substances. Therefore, the substance answering to this last description stands lowest both in being and in goodness.

We find degrees of goodness also among the parts of this substance composed of matter and form. For, since matter considered in itself is being in potency, and since form is its act, and again, since a composite substance derives actual existence from its form, it follows that the form is good in itself; the composite substance is good as having its form actually; and the matter is good as being in potency to the form. And although a thing is good insofar as it is a being, it does not follow that matter, which is only being potentially, is only a potential good. For being is predicated absolutely, while good is founded on order: for a thing is said to be good not merely because it is an end, or possesses the end, but it is said to be good as long as it is directed to the end (even if it has not attained the end).

Accordingly, matter cannot be called a being absolutely, because it is a potential being, by which it is shown to have an order towards being; yet this suffices for it to be called a good absolutely on account of this very order. This shows that the good extends further than being in a sense, for which reason Dionysius says that the good includes both existing and nonexisting things.¹ For even nonexistent things (namely, matter considered as subject to privation) seek a good (namely, to exist). Hence it follows that matter also is good, for nothing but the good seeks the good.

In yet another way the creature’s goodness falls short from God’s. For, as we have stated, God has supreme perfection of goodness in his very being. But the creature has its perfection not in one thing but in many, because what is united in the highest is manifold in the lowest. Hence virtue, wisdom, and operation are predicated of God in respect of one and the same thing, but of creatures in respect of different things; the further a creature is from the highest goodness, the more does the perfection of its goodness require to be manifold. And if it be unable to attain to perfect goodness, it will reach to imperfect goodness in a few respects. Hence it is that although the first and highest good is utterly simple, and the substances nearest to it in goodness approach to it likewise in simplicity, yet the lowest substances are found to be more simple than some that are higher (for instance, elements than animals and men), because they are unable to reach the perfection of knowledge and understanding, to which animals and men attain.

From what has been said, it is evident that although God possesses his perfect and entire goodness in respect of his simple being, creatures nevertheless do not attain to the perfection of their goodness through their being alone, but through many things. Therefore, although each one is good inasmuch as it exists, it cannot be called good absolutely if it lack other things that are required for its goodness. Thus a man who, being despoiled of virtue, is addicted to vice, is said indeed to be good in a restricted sense (namely, as a being and as a man), but not absolutely; in fact, he should rather be called evil. Accordingly, ‘to be’ and ‘to be good’ are not the same in every creature, although each one is good insofar as it exists. But in God, ‘to be’ and ‘to be good’ are simply one and the same.

If, then, each thing tends to a likeness to God’s goodness as its end; and a thing is like God’s goodness in respect of whatever belongs to its goodness; and the goodness of a thing consists not merely in its being, but in whatever is required for its perfection, as we have proved, it is clear that things are directed to God as their end not only in respect of their substantial being, but also in respect of such things as are accidental to them and belong to their perfection, as well as in respect of their proper operation, which also belongs to a thing’s perfection.¹

That things have a natural tendency to be like God in that he is a cause

It is clear from the foregoing that things also have a tendency to be like God in being causes of others.

For the creature tends to be like God by its operation. Now one thing is the cause of another by its operation. Therefore, things also tend to a divine similitude in that they are causes of other things.

Again. Things tend to be like God insofar as he is good, as stated above.¹ Now it is out of his goodness that God bestows being on others, for all things act insofar as they are actually perfect. Therefore, all things seek to be like God by being causes of others.

Moreover. Order towards good is itself a good, as we have shown above.¹ Now every thing, insofar as it is the cause of another, is directed to a good: for good alone is caused in itself, and evil is caused only by accident, as we have proved.² Therefore, it is a good to be a cause of others. Now in respect of any good to which a thing tends, that thing’s tendency is to a divine similitude, since every created good is by reason of a share in the divine goodness. Therefore, things tend to a divine likeness by being causes of other things.

Again. That the effect tends to be like the agent amounts to the same as that the agent causes its likeness in its effect, for the effect tends to the end towards which it is directed by the agent. Now the agent tends to assimilate the patient to itself, not only in respect of its being, but also in respect of its causality: for the agent gives to its natural effect not only those natural principles by which it subsists, but also those by which it is a cause of other things. Thus the animal, when begotten, receives from its begetter both the power of self-nourishment and the power of generation. Therefore, the effect tends to be like the agent not only in the point of species, but also in the point of its causality of other things. Now things tend to be like God even as effects tend to be like the agent, as proved above.¹ Therefore, things have a natural tendency towards a divine likeness in that they are causes of other things.

Since, however, a cause as such is higher than its effect, it is evident that to tend in this way to a divine likeness, so as to be a cause of other things, belongs to the highest grade among things.

Furthermore. A thing is perfect in itself before being able to cause another, as we have stated already. Hence to be the cause of other things is a perfection that accrues to a thing last. Since, then, the creature tends to a divine likeness in many points,¹ this remains the last: it seeks a likeness to God by being a cause of others. Therefore, Dionysius says that it is of all things most godlike to be God’s cooperator;² in which sense the Apostle says: We are God’s fellow workers (1 Cor 3:9).

How things are directed in various ways to their respective ends

It may be shown from the foregoing that a thing’s operation is the last means whereby it is directed to its end, but in various ways according to the variety of operations.

For some things have an operation by which they move something else—such are heating and cutting—and some have an operation in being moved by another—such are being heated, and being cut. Some operations are a perfection of an actually existing operator, and do not tend to the transmutation of something else: in the former respect these differ from passion and movement, and in the latter from an action which effects a transmutation on some external matter. As an instance of such an operation we have understanding, sensation, and will. Therefore, it is clear that things which are set to move or operate only, without moving or making any thing themselves, tend to the divine likeness in that they are perfect in themselves; those which make and move as such tend to a divine likeness in that they are causes of other things; those which move through being moved tend to the divine likeness in both ways.

The lower bodies, insofar as they are moved with natural movements, are considered to be moved only, and not to move except accidentally: for if a stone in its descent puts into motion something that stood in its path, it is an accident. (The same applies to alteration and other movements.) Therefore, the end of such movements is that they attain to a divine likeness in the point of their being perfect in themselves, as having their proper form and their proper place.

The heavenly bodies, however, move because they are moved, so that the end of their movement is to attain to a divine likeness in both respects. It is thus as regards their own perfection insofar as a heavenly body may be actually where previously it was potentially. Nor does it for this reason attain less to its perfection, although it retains its potency to be where it was before. For in the same way does prime matter tend to its perfection by acquiring actually the form which it had potentially before, although it ceases to have the one which it had before actually. For thus matter receives successively all the forms to which it has a potency, so that its whole potency is actualized successively, which could not happen all at one time. Therefore, since a heavenly body is in potency to a particular place—even as prime matter is to a particular form—it attains to its perfection by the fact that its entire potency to a particular place is successively actualized, which could not happen simultaneously.

Inasmuch as they move by moving, the end of their movement is the attainment of a divine likeness, in that they are causes of other things. Now they are the causes of other things by causing generation and corruption and other movements in this lower world. Accordingly, the movements of heavenly bodies, insofar as they are principles of movement, are directed to generation and corruption in the world beneath them. And it is not unreasonable that the movements of heavenly bodies conduce to the generation of these lower things, although these inferior bodies are of small account in comparison with the heavenly bodies, and yet the end should be of greater account than the means.

For the generator’s action tends to the form of the generated; yet that which is generated is not of greater worth than the generator, but, in univocal agents, is of the same species with it. For the generator does not intend the form of the generated as its ultimate end (which form is the end of generation), but the likeness to the divine being in the perpetuation of the species, and the diffusion of his goodness, by bestowing its specific form on others and being the cause of other things. Likewise, the heavenly bodies, although of more account than the lower bodies, nevertheless intend the generation of the latter bodies by means of their movements, and to bring to act the forms of things generated—not indeed as though this were their ultimate end, but as a means by which to attain to an ultimate end (namely, the divine likeness) in that they are causes of other things.

We must take note, however, that according as a thing participates in a likeness to God’s goodness (which is the object of his will), it has a share in a similitude to God’s will, by which things are brought into being and preserved. The higher beings, however, participate in a likeness to the divine goodness in a more simple and universal manner, but the lower beings in a more particular and divided way. Hence between heavenly and lower bodies we observe a likeness not of equiparance (as in things belonging to the same species), but as that which is to be observed between the universal agent and a particular effect. Therefore, just as in this lower world the intention of the particular agent is confined to good of this or that species, so is the intention of the celestial body inclined to the common good of the corporeal substance, which is preserved, multiplied, and increased by generation.

But since, as already stated, everything moved, as such, tends towards a divine likeness to be perfect in itself, and since a thing is perfect insofar as it becomes actual, it follows that the intention of every thing that is in potency is to tend to act by way of movement. Consequently, the more an act is posterior and perfect, the more is the appetite of matter inclined to it. Therefore, the appetite whereby matter seeks a form must tend towards the last and most perfect act which matter can attain, as to the ultimate end of generation.

Now certain grades are to be found in the acts of forms. For prime matter is in potency, first of all, to the elemental form. While under the elemental form, it is in potency to the form of a mixed body, on account of which elements are the matter of a mixed body. Considered as under the form of a mixed body, it is in potency to a vegetative soul, for the act of such a body is a soul. Again, the vegetative soul is in potency to the sensitive, and the sensitive to the intellective. This is proved by the process of generation, for in generation we first have the fetus living with a plant life, afterwards with animal life, and lastly with human life. After this no later or more noble form is to be found in things subject to generation and corruption.

Therefore, the last end of all generation is the human soul, and to this does matter tend as its ultimate form. Consequently, the elements are for the sake of the mixed body, and the mixed body for the sake of living things. Of these, plants are for the sake of animals, and animals for the sake of man. Therefore, man is the end of all generation.

And whereas the same thing is the cause of generation and preservation of things, the order of the preservation of things is in keeping with the aforesaid order of their generation. Hence we find that mixed bodies are preserved by the qualities becoming to the elements; plants are nourished by mixed bodies; animals derive their nourishment from plants; and some that are more perfect and powerful from the imperfect and weak. Man employs all kinds of things for his own use, some for food, some for clothing. Hence by nature he was made naked, as being able to make himself clothes from other things, even as nature provided him with no suitable nourishment except milk, so that he might supply himself with food from a variety of things. Some he employs as a means of transit, for he is inferior to many animals in swiftness and strength for sustained work, as though other animals were furnished for his needs. And over and above he employs all things endowed with a sensitive life for the perfection of his intellectual knowledge. Hence, addressing the words to God, the Psalm say of man: You have put all things under his feet (Ps 8:6). And Aristotle says¹ that man exercises a natural sovereignty over all animals.

If, therefore, the movement of the heaven is directed to generation, and all generation is directed to man as the last end of this genus, it is evident that the end of the heavenly movement is directed to man as its last end in the genus of things subject to generation and movement.

This is expressed where it is said that God made the heavenly bodies for the service of all the nations (Deut 4:19).

That the movement of the heaven is from an intellective principle

It can also be shown from the foregoing that the first principle, which causes the heavenly movement, is intellective.

For nothing that acts according to its own species intends a form higher than its own, since every agent intends its like.¹ Now a heavenly body, insofar as it acts by its own movement, intends the ultimate form, which is the human intellect, which is higher than any corporeal form, as we have proved above.² Therefore, the heavenly body acts for generation not in respect of its own species, as the principal agent does, but in respect of the species of some higher intellectual agent, in relation to which the heavenly body is like an instrument in relation to a principal agent. Now the heaven acts to the effect of generation inasmuch as it is moved. Therefore, the heavenly body is moved by some intellectual substance.

Again. Whatever is in motion must be moved by another, as we proved above.¹ Therefore, the body of heaven is moved by another. Now this other is either wholly separated from it, or it is united to it, so that what is composed of heaven and its mover is said to move itself inasmuch as one part of it is moved, and the other is mover. If this be the case, since whatever moves itself is living and animate,² it follows that the heaven is animate. And not otherwise than with an intellectual soul: for it could not be animated with a nutritive soul (since in the heavenly body there is no generation or corruption), nor with a sensitive soul (since the heavenly body has no variety of organs). Therefore, it follows that it is moved by an intellective soul. If, on the other hand, it be moved by an extrinsic mover, this will be either corporeal or incorporeal. If it be corporeal, it does not cause movement without being moved, for no body moves unless it be moved, as was shown above.³ Thus this too will require to be moved by another. But as it is not possible to have an infinite series of bodies, we must come to some incorporeal first mover. Now that which is utterly separated from a body must be intellectual, as we have shown.⁴ Therefore, the movement of the heaven, which is first among corporeal beings, is caused by some intellectual substance.

Moreover. Heavy and light bodies are moved by their generator and by that which removes obstacles, as is proved in 8 Physics,¹ for it is impossible that their form be mover and the matter moved, for nothing is moved except a body. Now as the elemental bodies are simple, and there is no composition in them except that of matter and form, so too are the heavenly bodies simple. Hence, if they be moved as heavy and light bodies, it follows that they are moved essentially by their generator and accidentally by that which removes an obstacle. But this is impossible, for these bodies cannot be generated, because there is no contrariety in them, and their movements cannot be hindered. Therefore, these bodies must be moved by things that cause movement by a power of apprehension, which power cannot be sensitive, as we have proved. Therefore, it must be an intellective power.

Further. If the principle of the heavenly movement be from nature alone without any kind of apprehension, it follows that it must be the form of the heavenly body, as is the case with the elements. For, although simple forms do not cause movement, they are principles of movements, since natural movements follow from them like all other natural properties. Now it is impossible that the heavenly movement follow the form of the heavenly body as its active principle. For thus the form is the principle of local movement: insofar as a particular body, in respect of its form, is due a particular place to which it is moved by virtue of its form tending to that place. Because the generator gives this form, it is said to be a mover. Even so it is due to fire, in respect of its form, to be in a higher place. Now one place is not more due to a heavenly body in respect of its form than another. Therefore, nature alone is not the principle of the heavenly movement. Consequently, the principle of its movement must be something that moves it by apprehension.

Again. Nature always tends to one thing: therefore, things that come from nature always come in the same way, unless they be hindered, which seldom happens. Therefore, that which is essentially deformed cannot possibly be an end towards which nature tends. Now movement is essentially such, for that which is moved, as such, is conditioned otherwise now and before.¹ Consequently, nature cannot intend movement for its own sake. Therefore, it intends through movement to obtain rest which in relation to movement is as one to many, for a thing is at rest which is conditioned in the same way now as before. Accordingly, if the heavenly movement were from nature alone, it would be directed to some kind of rest. But the contrary is the case, for it is unceasing. Therefore, the movement of the heaven is not from nature as its active principle, but from an intelligent substance.

Also. In every movement that is of nature as its active principle, if approach to a particular term be natural, recession from that term must be unnatural and contrary to nature: thus a heavy body naturally seeks a lower place, and recedes from it unnaturally. Therefore, if the movement of the heaven were natural, since it naturally tends to the west, it would be contrary to nature for it to return from the west to the east. But this is impossible, for nothing in the heavenly movement is violent or unnatural. Consequently, it is impossible for nature to be the active principle of the heavenly movement. Therefore, its active principle is some apprehensive power, which must be an intelligence, as we have proved above. Therefore, the heavenly body is moved by an intelligent substance.

And yet we must not deny that the heavenly movement is natural. For a movement is said to be natural not only on account of its active principle, but also on account of its passive principle. This is evident in the generation of simple bodies, since such generation cannot be called natural in relation to the active principle. For a thing to be moved naturally by an active principle, it must have this active principle within itself, for nature is a principle of movement in a thing in which it is;¹ but the active principle in the generation of a simple body is without. Therefore, it is not natural by reason of its active principle, but only by reason of its passive principle (namely, matter), in which there is a natural appetite for its natural form. Accordingly, the movement of the heavenly body is not natural as to its active principle, but voluntary and intellectual; but it is natural as to its passive principle, since a heavenly body has a natural inclination for that movement.

This is made clear if we consider the relation of a heavenly body to its place. For a thing is passive and moved according as it is in potency, and it is active and moves according as it is in a state of act. Now a heavenly body, considered in its substance and as in potency, is indifferent to any place, even as prime matter is indifferent to any form, as we have stated.¹ But it is otherwise with a heavy or light body, which, considered in itself, is not indifferent to any place, and has a definite place appointed to it by reason of its form. Therefore, the nature of heavy and light bodies is the active principle of their movements, while the nature of a heavenly body is the passive principle of its movement.

Consequently, we must not think that it is moved by violence, like heavy and light bodies, which are moved by us through our intelligence. For heavy and light bodies have a natural aptitude for a movement contrary to that with which they are moved by us, and so they are moved by us violently; but the movement of an animal’s body, whereby that body is moved by the soul, is not violent to that body as animated (although it is violent insofar as that body is something heavy). On the other hand, the heavenly bodies have no aptitude for a contrary movement, but only for that in which they are moved by an intelligent substance. Consequently, it is both voluntary, as regards its active principle, and natural, as to its passive principle.

That the heavenly movement is voluntary in respect of its active principle is not inconsistent with the fact that it is one and uniform, because the will is indifferent to many things and is not determined to any one. For just as nature is determined to one by its power, so is the will determined to one by its wisdom, by which the will is unerringly directed to one end.

It is evident from the foregoing that neither approach to any one place nor recession from it is contrary to nature. For this happens in the movement of heavy and light bodies for two reasons. First, because the intention of nature, in heavy and light bodies, is determined towards one place: therefore, just as the body naturally tends to it, so does it recede from it against nature. Second, because two movements, one of which approaches a given term and the other recedes from it, are contrary. If, however, we take not the last but a middle place in the movement of heavy and light bodies, both approach to it and recession from it are natural, because the whole movement comes under the intention of nature, and the movements are not contrary, but are one continuous movement. It is the same in the movement of heavenly bodies, because the intention of nature is not towards one determinate place, as we have said already. Moreover, the movement with which a body moved in a circle recedes from any given place is not contrary to the movement with which it approaches towards it, but is one continuous movement: so that any given point in the heavenly movement is like a middle point, and not like the term in a straight movement.

As long as we admit that the heavenly movement is caused by an intellectual substance, it makes any difference as to the present question whether the heavenly body be moved by an intellectual substance united to it, so as to be its soul, or by a separate substance: nor whether each heavenly body be moved by God immediately; or none, and each be moved by the intermediary of created intellectual substances; or only the first heavenly body by God immediately, and the others through the intermediary of created substances.

How even things devoid of knowledge seek the good

If, as we have shown,¹ the heavenly body is moved by an intelligent substance, and the movement of the heavenly body is directed to generation in this lower world, it follows that the generations and movements of these lower bodies proceed from the intention of an intelligent substance. For the intention of the principal agent bears on the same thing as that of the instrument. Now the heaven is the cause of the movements of lower bodies by reason of its movement, with which it is moved by an intelligent substance. Consequently, it is as an instrument of an intelligent substance. Therefore, the forms and movements of the lower bodies are caused by an intelligent substance, and are intended by it as by a principal agent, and by the heavenly body, as by an instrument.

Now the species of things caused and intended by an intellectual agent must preexist in his intellect: just as the forms of the products of art preexist in the mind of the craftsman and flow thence into his work. Consequently, all forms that are in these lower bodies, and all their movements flow from intellectual forms which are in the intellect of some substance or substances. Hence Boethius says that forms which are in matter originated in forms that are immaterial.¹ In this respect the saying of Plato is verified, that separate forms are the principles of forms that exist in matter: although Plato held them to be essentially subsistent, and to be the immediate cause of the forms of sensible bodies, whereas we hold them to exist in an intellect and to cause lower forms through the heavenly movement.

And since whatever is moved by anything essentially and not accidentally is directed thereby towards the end of its movement,¹ and since the heavenly body is moved by an intellectual substance, and the heavenly body causes all movement in this lower world by its movement, it follows of necessity that the heavenly body is directed to the end of its movement by an intellectual substance, and consequently all lower bodies to their respective ends.

Accordingly, it is easy to understand how natural bodies devoid of knowledge are moved and act for the sake of an end. For they tend to an end as directed to it by an intelligent substance in the same way as an arrow, directed by the archer, tends to the mark. For, as the arrow receives its direction to a fixed end through the aim of the archer, so too natural bodies receive an inclination to their natural ends from their natural movers, from which they derive their forms, powers and movements.

Therefore, it is also clear that every work of nature is the work of an intelligent substance, because an effect is ascribed more especially to the direction of the first mover towards the end than to the instruments which receive that direction. For this reason the operations of nature are seen to proceed in an orderly manner, even as the operations of a wise man.

It is, therefore, evident that even things devoid of knowledge can work for an end, and desire good with a natural appetite. Also, that they seek a divine likeness as well as their own perfection. Nor does it matter in which way we express it, the former or the latter, because by tending to their own perfection, they tend to a good, since a thing is good insofar as it is perfect. But according as a thing tends to be good, it tends to a divine likeness, since a thing is like unto God insofar as it is good. Now this or that particular good is so far appetible as it bears a likeness to the first goodness. Therefore, the reason why a thing tends to its own good is because it tends to a divine likeness, and not vice versa. It is clear, therefore, that all things seek a divine likeness as their last end.

A thing’s own good can be understood in several ways. First, in the sense that it is proper to that thing on the part of the individual. Thus an animal desires its own good when it desires food, whereby its existence is preserved. Second, as being proper to that thing on the part of its species. Thus an animal desires its own good insofar as it desires to beget a infant and to feed it, as well as whatever else conduces to the preservation or defense of the individuals of its species. Third, on the part of the genus. And thus an equivocal agent (for instance, the heaven) desires its own good in causing. Fourth, on the part of a likeness of analogy between effect and cause. Thus God, who is outside all genera, gives being to all things on account of his own goodness.

This clearly proves that the more perfect a thing’s power and the higher its degree of goodness, the more universal is its desire for good and the greater the range of goodness to which its appetite and operation extend. For imperfect things extend no further than their own individual good, but perfect things extend to the good of the species; more perfect things to the good of the genus; and God, who is most perfect in goodness, to the good of all being. Therefore, it is said by some, not without reason, that good, as such, is self-diffusive,¹ because the better a thing is, the further does the outpouring of its goodness extend. And since, in every genus, that which is most perfect is the exemplar and measure of all that belongs to that genus,² it follows that God, who is most perfect in goodness, and pours forth his goodness most universally, is in his outpouring the exemplar of all things that pour forth goodness. Now one thing becomes a cause of another by pouring forth its own goodness into that other. And so it is again evident that whatever tends to be the cause of something else tends to a divine likeness, and yet tends to its own good.

Consequently, it is not unreasonable to say that the movements of heavenly bodies, and the actions of their movers, are in a way for the sake of these bodies that are generated and corrupted, and of less account than they are. For they are not for the sake of these as their last end: but by intending the generation of these, they intend their own good, and the divine likeness as their last end.

Notions of happiness

That to know God is the end of every intelligent substance

Now, seeing that all creatures, even those that are devoid of reason, are directed to God as their last end, and that all reach this end insofar as they have some share of a likeness to him,¹ the intellectual creature attains to him in a special way, namely, by understanding him through its proper operation. Consequently, to understand God must be the end of the intelligent creature.

For, as we have shown above,¹ God is the end of each thing. Therefore, as far as it is possible to it, each thing intends to be united to God as its last end. Now a thing is more closely united to God by reaching in a way to the very substance of God—which happens when it knows something of the divine substance—than when it reaches to a divine likeness. Therefore, the intellectual substance tends to the knowledge of God as its last end.

Again. The operation proper to a thing is its end, for it is its second perfection, so that when a thing is well conditioned for its proper operation it is said to be efficient and good. Now understanding is the proper operation of the intellectual substance: consequently, it is its end. Therefore, whatever is most perfect in this operation is its last end, especially in those operations which are not directed to some product, such as understanding and sensation. And since operations of this kind take their species from their objects, by which also they are known, it follows that the more perfect the object of any such operation, the more perfect is the operation. Consequently, to understand the most perfect intelligible, God, is the most perfect in the genus of this operation which is to understand. Therefore, to know God by an act of intelligence is the last end of every intellectual substance.

Someone, however, might say that the last end of an intellectual substance consists indeed in understanding the best intelligible, but that what is the best intelligible for this or that intellectual substance is not simply the best intelligible; and that the higher the intellectual substance, the higher is its best intelligible. So that perhaps the supreme intellectual substance has for its best intelligible that which is best simply, and its happiness will consist in understanding God; but the happiness of any lower intellectual substance will consist in understanding some lower intelligible (which, however, will be the highest thing understood by that substance). Especially would it seem not to be in the power of the human intellect to understand that which is simply the best intelligible on account of its weakness, for it is as much adapted for knowing the supreme intelligible as the owl’s eye for seeing the sun.¹

Nevertheless, it is evident that the end of any intellectual substance, even the lowest, is to understand God. For it has been shown above¹ that God is the last end towards which all things tend. And the human intellect, although the lowest in the order of intelligent substances, is superior to all that are devoid of understanding. Since, then, a more exalted substance has not a less exalted end, God will be the end also of the human intelligence. Now every intelligent being attains to its last end by understanding it, as we have proved. Therefore, the human intellect attains to God as its end by understanding him.

Again. Just as things devoid of intelligence tend to God as their end by way of assimilation, so do intelligent substances by way of knowledge, as clearly appears from what has been said. Now, although things devoid of reason tend towards a likeness to their proximate causes, the intention of nature does not rest there, but has for its end a likeness to the highest good, as we have proved,¹ although they are able to attain to this likeness in a most imperfect manner. Therefore, however little be the knowledge of God to which the intellect is able to attain, this will be the intellect’s last end, rather than the perfect knowledge of lower intelligibles.

Moreover. Everything desires its last end most of all. Now, although it can grasp but little about them, the human intellect desires, loves, and enjoys the knowledge of divine things more than the perfect knowledge which it has of the lower world. Therefore, man’s last end is to understand God in some way or other.

Further. Everything tends to a divine likeness as its own end. Therefore, a thing’s last end is that whereby it is most of all like unto God. Now the intellectual creature is especially likened to God in that it is intellectual, since this likeness belongs to it above other creatures, and includes all other likenesses. And in this particular kind of likeness it is more like God in understanding actually than in understanding habitually or potentially, because God is always actually understanding, as we proved in the first book.¹ And in understanding actually he is especially like God in understanding God, because by understanding himself God understands all other things, as we proved in the first book.² Therefore, the last end of every intelligent substance is to understand God.

Again. That which is lovable only on account of another is for the sake of that which is lovable for its own sake alone, because we cannot go on indefinitely in the appetite of nature, since then nature’s desire would be in vain: for it is impossible to pass through an infinite number of things. Now all practical sciences, arts, and powers are lovable only for the sake of something else, since their end is not knowledge, but operation. But speculative sciences are lovable for their own sake, for their end is knowledge itself.

Nor can we find any action in connection with man that is not directed to some other end, with the exception of speculative consideration. For even playful actions, which would seem to be done without any purpose, have some end due to them, namely, that the mind may be relaxed, and that we may afterwards become more fit for studious occupations. Otherwise, if play were desirable for its own sake, we should always have to be playing, and this is unreasonable. Accordingly, practical art is directed to speculative art, and again every human operation to intellectual speculation as its end.

Now, in all sciences and arts that are mutually subordinate, the last end apparently belongs to the one from which others take their rules and principles: thus the art of sailing, to which belongs the ship’s end (namely, its use), provides rules and principles to the art of ship-building. And such is the relation of metaphysics to other speculative sciences, for all others depend on it since they derive their principles from it, and are directed by it in defending those principles: moreover, metaphysics is wholly directed to God as its last end (hence it is called the divine science).¹ Therefore, the knowledge of God is the last end of all human knowledge and actions.

Furthermore. In all mutually subordinate agents and movers, the end of the first agent must be the end of all, even as the end of the commander in chief is the end of all who are soldiering under him. Now of all the parts of man, the intellect is the highest mover, for it moves the appetite by proposing its object to it. The intellective appetite, or will, moves the sensitive appetites (namely, the irascible and concupiscible), so that we do not obey the concupiscence unless the will command; when the will consents, the sensitive appetite moves the body. Therefore, the end of the intellect is the end of all human actions. Now the intellect’s end and good are the true,¹ and its last end is the first truth. Therefore, the last end of all man and of all his deeds and desires is to know the first truth, namely God.

Moreover. Man has a natural desire to know the causes of whatever he sees. Hence, through wondering at things with hidden causes, men first began to philosophize, and when they had discovered the cause they were at rest.¹ Nor do they cease inquiring until they come to the first cause; and then do we consider ourselves to know perfectly when we know the first cause.² Therefore, man naturally desires to know the first cause as his last end. But God is the first cause of all. Therefore, man’s last end is to know God.

Further. A body that tends by its natural appetite to its place is moved all the more vehemently and rapidly as it approaches nearer to its end. Hence Aristotle proves¹ that a natural straight movement cannot be towards an indefinite point, because it would not be more moved afterwards than before. Hence that which tends more vehemently to a thing afterwards than before is not moved towards an indefinite point but towards something fixed. Now this we find in the desire of knowledge, for the more one knows, the greater one’s desire to know. Consequently, man’s natural desire in knowledge tends to a definite end. This can be no other but the highest thing knowable, which is God. Therefore, the knowledge of God is man’s last end.

Now the last end of man and of any intelligent substance is called happiness or beatitude: it is this that every intelligent substance desires as its last end, and for its own sake alone. Therefore, the last beatitude or happiness of any intelligent substance is to know God.

Hence it is said: Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God (Matt 5:8); and: This is eternal life, that they know thee the only true God (John 17:3).

Aristotle agrees with this statement when he says that man’s ultimate happiness is contemplative, in regard to his contemplating the highest object of contemplation.¹

Since the intellectual substance attains to God by its operation not only by an act of understanding, but also by an act of the will—through desiring and loving him, and through delighting in him—someone might think that man’s last end and ultimate happiness consists not in knowing, but in loving God, or in some other act of the will towards him.

This especially seems so since the object of the will is the good, which has the aspect of an end, whereas the true, which is the object of the intellect, has not the aspect of an end except insofar as it also is a good. Therefore, man seems to not attain to his last end by an act of his intellect, but rather by an act of his will.

Again. Delight seems to be desired for its own sake so that it is never desired for the sake of something else: for it is silly to ask of anyone why he seeks to be delighted. Now this is a condition of the ultimate end, namely, that it be sought for its own sake. Therefore, it appears that the last end consists in an act of the will rather than of the intellect.

Moreover. All agree in their desire for the last end, for it is a natural desire. Now more people seek delight than knowledge. Therefore, delight would seem to be the last end, rather than knowledge.

Furthermore. The will is seemingly a higher power than the intellect, since the will moves the intellect to its act: for when a person wills, his intellect considers by an act what he holds by a habit. Therefore, seemingly the act of the will is higher than the act of the intellect. Therefore, it would seem that the last end, which is beatitude, consists in an act of the will rather than of the intellect.

But this can be clearly shown to be impossible.

For, since happiness is the proper good of the intellectual nature, it must become the intellectual nature according to that which is proper to it. Now appetite is not proper to the intellectual nature, but is in all things, although it is different in different things. This difference, however, arises from things having a different relation to knowledge. For things wholly devoid of knowledge have only a natural appetite. Those that have a sensitive knowledge have also a sensitive appetite, under which the irascible and concupiscible appetites are comprised. And those which have intellective knowledge have also an appetite proportionate to that knowledge (namely, the will). The will, therefore, insofar as it is an appetite is not proper to the intellectual nature, but only insofar as it is dependent on the intellect. On the other hand, the intellect is in itself proper to the intellectual nature. Therefore, beatitude or happiness consists principally and essentially in an act of the intellect, rather than in an act of the will.

Again. In all powers that are moved by their objects, the object is naturally prior to the acts of those powers, even as the mover is naturally prior to the movable being moved. Now such a power is the will: for the appetible object moves the appetite. Therefore, the will’s object is naturally prior to its act; consequently, its first object precedes its every act. Therefore, an act of the will cannot be the first thing willed. But this is the last end, which is beatitude. Therefore, beatitude or happiness cannot be the very act of the will.

Further. The truth of a thing’s nature is derived from those things which constitute its essence: for a true man differs from a man in a picture by the things which constitute man’s essence. Now false happiness does not differ from true in an act of the will, because whatever be proposed to the will as the supreme good, whether truly or falsely, it makes no difference to the will in desiring, loving, or enjoying that good. The difference is on the part of the intellect, as to whether the good proposed as supreme be truly so or not. Therefore, beatitude or happiness consists essentially in an act of the intellect rather than of the will.

Again. If an act of the will were happiness itself, this act would be either desire, or love, or joy. But desire cannot possibly be the last end. For desire implies that the will is tending to what it has not yet, and this is contrary to the very notion of the last end. Nor can love be the last end. For a good is loved not only while it is in our possession, but even when it is not, because it is through love that we seek by desire what we have not. And if love of a thing we possess is more perfect, this arises from the fact that we possess the good we love. It is one thing, therefore, to possess the good which is our end, and another to love it: which love was imperfect before we possessed, and perfect after we obtained possession. Nor again is delight the last end. For it is possession of the good that causes delight, whether we are conscious of possessing it actually, or call to mind our previous possession, or hope to possess it in the future. Therefore, delight is not the last end. Therefore, no act of the will can be happiness itself essentially.

Furthermore. If delight were the last end, it would be desirable for its own sake, but this is not true. For the desirability of a delight depends on what gives rise to the delight, since that which arises from good and desirable operations is itself good and desirable, but that which arises from evil operations is itself evil and to be avoided. Therefore, its goodness and desirability are from something else. Consequently, it is not itself the last end or happiness.

Moreover. The right order of things agrees with the order of nature, for in the natural order things are directed to their end without any error. Now, in the natural order delight is on account of operation, and not conversely. For it is to be observed that nature has joined delight with those animal operations which are clearly directed to necessary ends: for instance, to the use of food that is directed to the preservation of the individual, and to sexual matters that are appointed for the preservation of the species. For if there were no pleasure, animals would abstain from the use of these necessary things. Therefore, delight cannot be the last end.

Again. It seems that delight is nothing else than the will’s rest in some suitable good, just as desire is the inclining of the will towards the attaining of some good. Now just as a man is inclined towards and rests in an end by his will, so too have natural bodies a natural inclination to their respective ends, and are at rest once they have attained their end. Now it is absurd to say that the end of the movement of a heavy body is not to be in its proper place, but that it is the resting of the inclination towards that place. For if it were nature’s chief intent that this inclination should be at rest, it would not give such an inclination; it gives it so that the body may tend towards its place, and when it has arrived there, as though it were its end, the inclination’s rest follows. Hence this rest is not the end, but accompanies the end. Neither, therefore, is delight the ultimate end, but accompanies it. Much less, therefore, is happiness any act of the will.

Besides. If a thing have something extrinsic for its end, the operation by which it first obtains that thing will be called its last end. Thus for those whose end is money, possession is said to be their end, but not love or desire. Now the last end of the intellective substance is God. Hence that operation of man by which he first obtains God is essentially his happiness or beatitude. And this is understanding, since we cannot will what we do not understand. Therefore, man’s ultimate happiness is essentially to know God by the intellect, and not an act of the will.

From what has been said we can now solve the arguments that were objected in the contrary sense.

For it does not necessarily follow that happiness is essentially the very act of the will from the fact that it is the object of the will through being the highest good, as the first argument reasoned. On the contrary, the fact that it is the first object of the will shows that it is not an act of the will, as appears from what we have said.

Nor does it follow that whatever perfects a thing in any way whatever must be the end of that thing, as the second objection argued. For a thing perfects another in two ways: first, it perfects a thing that has its species; second, it perfects a thing so that it may have its species. Thus the perfection of a house considered as already having its species is that to which the species of house is directed—namely, to be a dwelling (for one would not build a house but for that reason)—and consequently we must include this in the definition of a house, if the definition is to be perfect. On the other hand, the perfection that conduces to the species of a house is both that which is directed to the completion of the species (for instance, its essential principles); and that which conduces to the preservation of the species (for instance, the buttresses which are made to support the building); and those things which make the house more fit for use (for instance, the symmetry of the building).

Accordingly, that which is the perfection of a thing considered as already having its species is its end, as the end of a house is to be a dwelling. Likewise, the operation proper to a thing (its use, as it were) is its end. On the other hand, whatever perfects a thing by conducing to its species is not the end of that thing: in fact, the thing is its end. Thus matter and form are for the sake of the species. For although the form is the end of generation, it is not the end of the thing already generated and having its species, but is required in order that the species be complete. Again, things that preserve the thing in its species (such as health and the nutritive power) are not the animal’s end even though they perfect the animal, but vice versa. And again, those things that adapt a thing for the perfection of its proper specific operations, and for the easier attainment of its proper end, are not the end of that thing, but vice versa: for instance, a man’s comeliness, bodily strength, and the like, of which the Philosopher says that they conduce to happiness instrumentally.¹

Now delight is a perfection of operation not as though operation were directed to it in respect of its species, for thus it is directed to other ends—thus eating, in respect of its species, is directed to the preservation of the individual—but it is like a perfection that is conducive to a thing’s species, since we perform more attentively and becomingly an operation we delight in for the sake of the delight. Hence the Philosopher says that delight perfects operation as beauty perfects youth,¹ for beauty is for the sake of the one who has youth.

Nor is the fact that men seek delight not for the sake of something else but for its own sake a sufficient indication that delight is the last end, as the third objection argued. For delight, though it is not the last end, nevertheless accompanies the last end, since delight arises from the attainment of the end.

Nor do more people seek the pleasure that comes from knowledge than knowledge itself. But more there are who seek sensible delights than intellectual knowledge and the delight consequent to it, because exterior things are better known to the majority, since human knowledge takes its beginning from sensible objects.

The suggestion put forward by the fifth argument—that the will is a higher power than the intellect, as being the latter’s motive force—is clearly untrue. For the intellect moves the will first and of itself, since the will, as such, is moved by its object, which is the apprehended good. But the will moves the intellect accidentally, as it were—namely, insofar as the act of intelligence is itself apprehended as a good, and on that account is desired by the will, the result being that the intellect understands actually. Even in this, the intellect precedes the will, for the will would never seek the act of intelligence did not the intellect first apprehend its act of intelligence as a good. And again, the will moves the intellect to actual operation in the same way as an agent is said to move, but the intellect moves the will in the same way as the end moves, for the good understood is the end of the will. Now the agent in moving comes after the end, for the agent does not move except on account of the end. It is therefore clear that the intellect is simply higher than the will, while the will is higher than the intellect accidentally and in a restricted sense.

That human happiness does not consist in carnal pleasures

From what has been said it is clearly impossible that human happiness consist in pleasures of the body, the chief of which are pleasures of food and of sex.

It has been shown¹ that according to nature’s order, pleasure is on account of operation, and not conversely. Therefore, if an operation be not the ultimate end, the consequent pleasure can neither be the ultimate end, nor accompany the ultimate end. Now it is manifest that the operations followed by the pleasures mentioned above are not the last end, for they are directed to certain manifest ends: eating, for instance, to the preservation of the body, and carnal intercourse to the begetting of children. Therefore, the aforesaid pleasures are not the last end, nor do they accompany the last end. Therefore, happiness does not consist in them.

Again. The will is higher than the sensitive appetite, for it moves it, as stated above.¹ But happiness does not consist in an act of the will, as we have already proved.² Much less, therefore, does it consist in the aforesaid pleasures which are seated in the sensitive appetite.

Moreover. Happiness is a good proper to man: for it is an abuse of terms to speak of dumb animals as being happy. Now these pleasures are common to man and beast. Therefore, we must not assign happiness to them.

Again. The ultimate end is the most noble of those that pertain to a thing, for it has the meaning of best. But these pleasures are not agreeable to a man according to that which is noblest in him, which is his intellect, but according to his senses. Therefore, we must not assign happiness to such pleasures.

Further. That which is not good unless it be moderate is not good in itself, but receives its goodness from its moderator. Now, the use of the aforesaid pleasures is not good for man unless it be moderate: otherwise, they would frustrate one another. Therefore, these pleasures are not in themselves man’s good. But the highest good is good essentially, because that which is good of itself is better than what is good through another. Therefore, such pleasures are not man’s supreme good, which is happiness.

Again. In all essential predications, if A be predicated of B simply, an increase in A will be predicated of an increase in B. Thus if a hot thing heats, a hotter thing heats more, and the hottest thing heats most. Accordingly, if the pleasures in question were good in themselves, it would follow that to use them very much is very good. But this is clearly false, because it is considered sinful to use them too much: for it is hurtful to the body, and hinders pleasures of the same kind. Therefore, they are not essentially man’s good, and human happiness does not consist in them.

Furthermore. The last end of everything is God, as was proved above.¹ We must therefore posit as man’s last end that by which especially man approaches to God. Now man is hindered by the aforesaid pleasures from his chief approach to God, which is effected by contemplation, to which these same pleasures are a very great hindrance, since more than anything they plunge man into the midst of sensible things and consequently withdraw him from intelligible things. Therefore, human happiness is not to be placed in bodily pleasures.

Hereby is refuted the error of the Epicureans, who ascribed man’s happiness to pleasures of this kind; in their person Solomon says: What I have seen to be good . . . is to eat and drink and find enjoyment in all the toil . . . for this is his lot (Eccl 5:17); and: Everywhere let us leave signs of enjoyment, because this is our portion and this our lot (Wis 2:9).

The error of the Cerinthians is also refuted: for they pretended that, in the state of final happiness, after the resurrection Christ will reign for a thousand years, and men will indulge in the carnal pleasures of the stomach: therefore, they are called ‘Chiliastae,’¹ or believers in the Millennium.

The fables of the Jews and Mohammedans are also refuted, who pretend that the reward of the righteous consists in such pleasures: for happiness is the reward of virtue.

That happiness does not consist in honors

From the foregoing it is also clear that neither does man’s supreme good or happiness consist in honors.

For man’s ultimate end and happiness is his most perfect operation, as we have shown above.¹ But man’s honor does not consist in something done by him, but in something done to him by another who shows him honor. Therefore, man’s happiness must not be placed in honors.

Again. That which is on account of another good and desirable thing is not the last end. Now such is honor: for a man is not rightly honored except on account of some other good in him. For this reason do men seek to be honored, as though wishing to have a voucher for some good that is in them; hence they rejoice more in being honored by the great and the wise.¹ Therefore, we must not assign man’s happiness to honors.

Besides. Happiness is obtained through virtue. Now virtuous deeds are voluntary, else they were not praiseworthy. Therefore, happiness must be a good obtainable by man through his will. But it is not in a man’s power to secure honor; rather is it in the power of the man who pays honor.¹ Therefore, happiness is not to be assigned to honors.

Moreover. Only the good can be worthy of honor. Yet it is possible even for the wicked to be honored. Therefore, it is better to become worthy of honor than to be honored. Therefore, honor is not man’s supreme good.

That man’s happiness consists not in glory

Therefore, it is evident also that man’s supreme good does not consist in glory, which is the recognition of one’s good name.

For glory, according to Cicero, is the general recognition and praise of a person’s good name,¹ and according to Ambrose, it consists in being well known and praised.² Now men seek praise and distinction through being famous, so that they may be honored by those whom their fame reaches. Therefore, glory is sought for the sake of honor: consequently, if honor be not the highest good, much less is glory.

Again. Those goods are worthy of praise by which a man shows himself to be directed to his end. Now he who is directed to his end has not yet reached his last end. Therefore, praise is not bestowed on one who has reached his last end; rather does he receive honor, as the Philosopher says.¹ Therefore, glory cannot be the supreme good, since it consists chiefly in praise.

Besides. It is better to know than to be known, because only the higher things know, whereas the lowest are known. Therefore, man’s supreme good cannot be glory, which consists in a man being known.

Further. A man does not seek to be known except in good things, and in evil things he seeks to be hidden. Therefore, to be known is good and desirable on account of the good things that are known in a man. Therefore, these good things are better still. Consequently, glory, which consists in a man being known, is not his supreme good.

Furthermore. Man’s supreme good must be supremely stable in human things: for it is natural to desire unfailing endurance in one’s goods. Now glory, which consists in fame, is most unstable; since nothing is more changeable than human opinion and praise. Therefore, such glory is not man’s supreme good.

That man’s happiness does not consist in wealth

Hence it is evident that neither is wealth man’s supreme good.

For wealth is not sought except for the sake of something else, because of itself it brings us no good, but only when we use it for the support of the body, or for some similar purpose. Now the supreme good is sought for its own sake, and not for another’s. Therefore, wealth is not man’s supreme good.

Again. Man’s supreme good cannot consist in the possession or preservation of things whose chief advantage for man consists in their being spent. Now the chief advantage of wealth is in its being spent, for this is its use. Therefore, the possession of wealth cannot be man’s supreme good.

Moreover. Acts of virtue deserve praise according as they lead to happiness.¹ Now acts of liberality and magnificence, which are concerned with money, are deserving of praise on account of money being spent, rather than on account of its being kept: it is from this that these virtues derive their names.² Therefore, man’s happiness does not consist in the possession of wealth.

Besides. Man’s supreme good must consist in obtaining something better than man. But man is better than wealth, since it is something directed to man’s use. Therefore, man’s supreme good does not consist in wealth.

Moreover. This is evident from the fact that wealth is lost involuntarily. Also, because wealth can come into the possession of evil persons, who, of necessity, must lack the highest good. Again, because wealth is unstable. Other similar reasons can be gathered from the arguments given above.¹

That happiness consists not in worldly power

In like manner, neither can worldly power be man’s supreme happiness, since in its achievement chance can effect much. Again, it is unstable, and is not subject to man’s will, and is often obtained by evil men. These are incompatible with the supreme good, as already stated.¹

Again. Man is said to be good especially according as he approaches the supreme good. But in respect to his having power, he is not said to be either good or evil, since not everyone who can do good deeds is good, nor is a person evil because he can do evil deeds. Therefore, the supreme good does not consist in being powerful.

Besides. Every power implies reference to something else. But the supreme good is not referred to anything further. Therefore, power is not man’s supreme good.

Moreover. Man’s supreme good cannot be a thing that one can use both well and ill: for the better things are those that we cannot abuse.¹ But one can use one’s power both well and ill: for rational powers can be directed to contrary objects. Therefore, human power is not man’s supreme good.

Consequently, man’s happiness consists in no external good, for all external goods, which are known as goods of fortune, are contained under those we have mentioned.

That happiness consists not in goods of the body

Similar arguments avail to prove that man’s supreme good does not consist in goods of the body, such as health, beauty and strength. For they are common to good and evil, and are unstable, and are not subject to the will.

Again. These goods are common to man and other animals, but happiness is a good proper to man. Therefore, man’s happiness does not consist in the things mentioned.

Moreover. Many animals surpass man in goods of the body: for some are fleeter than he, some more sturdy, and so on. Accordingly, if man’s supreme good consisted in these things, man would not excel all animals, which is clearly untrue. Therefore, human happiness does not consist in goods of the body.

That human happiness is not seated in the senses

By the same arguments, it is evident that neither does man’s supreme good consist in goods of his sensitive faculty. For these goods again are common to man and other animals.

Again. Intellect is superior to sense. Therefore, the intellect’s good is better than the sense’s. Consequently, man’s supreme good is not seated in the senses.

Besides. The greatest sensual pleasures are those of food and of sex, in which the supreme good must be, if seated in the senses. But it does not consist in them.¹ Therefore, man’s supreme good is not in the senses.

Moreover. The senses are appreciated for their utility and for knowledge. Now the entire utility of the senses is referred to the goods of the body. Again, sensitive knowledge is directed to intellective. Hence animals devoid of intelligence take no pleasure in sensation except in reference to some bodily utility, insofar as by sensitive knowledge they obtain food or sexual intercourse. Therefore, man’s supreme good which is happiness is not seated in the sensitive faculty.

That man’s ultimate happiness does not consist in acts of moral virtue

It is clear that man’s ultimate happiness does not consist in moral works.

For human happiness, if ultimate, cannot be directed to a further end. But all moral deeds can be directed to something else. This is clear from a consideration of the principal among them. For deeds of fortitude in time of war are directed to victory and peace: for it were foolish to go to war merely for its own sake.¹ Again, deeds of justice are directed to keeping peace among men, through each one possessing his own in peace. The same applies to all other virtues. Therefore, man’s ultimate happiness is not in moral deeds.

Again. The purpose of the moral virtues is that through them we may observe the mean in the passions within us, and in things outside us. Now it is impossible that the moderation of passions or of external things be the ultimate end of man’s life, since both passions and external things can be directed to something less. Therefore, it is not possible that the practice of moral virtue be man’s final happiness.

Further. Since man is man through having reason, his proper good, which is happiness, must be in accordance with that which is proper to reason. Now that which reason has in itself is more proper to reason than what it effects in something else. Seeing, then, that the good of moral virtue is something effected by reason in something other than itself, it cannot be man’s greatest good, which is happiness. Rather, it must be a good that is in reason itself.

Moreover. We have already proved¹ that the last end of all is to become like God. Therefore, man’s happiness is that in which man chiefly becomes like God. Now this is not in regard to moral actions, since such actions cannot be ascribed to God except metaphorically; for it is not becoming to God to have passions, or the like, with which moral virtue is concerned. Therefore, man’s ultimate happiness, which is his last end, does not consist in moral actions.

That ultimate happiness does not consist in the act of prudence

It is also evident from the foregoing that neither does man’s happiness consist in the act of prudence.

For acts of prudence are solely about matters of moral virtue. But human happiness does not consist in the practice of moral virtue.¹ Neither, therefore, does it consist in the practice of prudence.

Again. Man’s ultimate happiness consists in man’s most excellent operation. Now man’s most excellent operation, in respect of what is proper to man, is in relation to most perfect objects. But the act of prudence is not concerned with the most perfect objects of intellect or reason, since it is not about necessary things, but about contingent practical matters.¹ Therefore, its act is not man’s ultimate happiness.

Besides. That which is directed to another as its end is not man’s ultimate happiness. Now the act of prudence is directed to another as its end: both because all practical knowledge, under which prudence is comprised, is directed to operation; and because prudence gives man a good disposition as regards things directed to the end, as may be gathered from Aristotle.¹ Therefore, man’s ultimate happiness is not in the practice of prudence.

Furthermore. Irrational animals have no share of happiness, as Aristotle proves.¹ Yet some of them have a certain share of prudence, as may be gathered from the same authority.² Therefore, happiness does not consist in an act of prudence.

That happiness does not consist in the practice of art

It is also evident that it cannot consist in the practice of art.

For even the knowledge of art is practical, and so is directed to an end, and is not the ultimate end.

The contemplation of God

That man’s ultimate happiness consists in contemplating God

Accordingly, if man’s ultimate happiness does not consist in external things (which are called goods of chance); nor in goods of the body; nor in goods of the soul, as regards the sensitive faculty; nor as regards the intellective faculty, in the practice of moral virtue; nor as regards intellectual virtue as concerned with action (namely, art and prudence), it remains for us to conclude that man’s ultimate happiness consists in the contemplation of the truth.

For this operation alone is proper to man, and none of the other animals communicates with him in it.

Again. This is not directed to anything further as its end, since the contemplation of the truth is sought for its own sake.

Again. By this operation man is united to things above him by becoming like them, because this alone of all human actions is both in God and in separate substances.

Also, by this operation man comes into contact with those higher beings through knowing them in any way whatever.

Besides, man is more self-sufficing for this operation, seeing that he stands in little need of the help of external things in order to perform it.

Further. All other human operations seem to be directed to this as their end. For perfect contemplation requires that the body should be disencumbered,¹ and to this effect are directed all the products of art that are necessary for life. Moreover, it requires freedom from the disturbance caused by the passions, which is achieved by means of the moral virtues and prudence; and freedom from external disturbance, to which all the regulations of the civil life are directed. So that, if we consider the matter rightly, we shall see that all human occupations are brought into the service of those who contemplate the truth.

Now, it is not possible that man’s ultimate happiness consist in contemplation based on the understanding of first principles: for this is most imperfect, as being universal and containing potential knowledge of things. Moreover, it is the beginning and not the end of human study, and comes to us from nature, and not through the study of the truth. Nor does it consist in contemplation based on the sciences that have the lowest things for their object, since happiness must consist in an operation of the intellect in relation to the highest objects of intelligence. It follows, then, that man’s ultimate happiness consists in wisdom, based on the consideration of divine things.

It is therefore evident by way of induction that man’s ultimate happiness consists solely in the contemplation of God, which conclusion was proved above by arguments.¹

That human happiness does not consist in the knowledge of God which is possessed generally by the majority

It remains for us to inquire in what kind of knowledge of God the ultimate happiness of the intellectual substance consists. For there is a certain general and confused knowledge of God which is in almost all men, whether as some think because the existence of God, like other principles of demonstration, is self-evident, as was stated in the first book;¹ or, as seems nearer to the truth, because man is able at once to arrive at some knowledge of God by his natural reason. For, seeing that natural things are arranged in a certain order—since there cannot be order without a cause of order—men, for the most part, perceive that there is one who arranges in order the things that we see. But who or of what kind this cause of order may be, or whether there be but one, cannot be gathered from this general consideration. In the same way, when we see a man in motion and performing other works, we perceive that in him there is a cause of these operations which is not in other things, and we give this cause the name of ‘soul,’ but without knowing yet what the soul is, if it is a body, or how it brings about operations in question.

Now, this knowledge of God cannot possibly suffice for happiness.

For the operation of the happy must be without any defect: and this knowledge is subject to an admixture of many errors. Some believed that there is no other ordainer of worldly things than the heavenly bodies; hence they said that the heavenly bodies are gods. Some ascribed this order to the elements and to the things generated from them, as though they deemed their movements and natural operations not to be due to another ordainer, and the order in other things to be caused by them. Some, deeming human acts not to be subject to any but a human ordinance, declared that men who cause order in other men are gods. Accordingly, this knowledge of God is not sufficient for happiness.

Moreover. Happiness is the end of human acts. But human acts are not directed to the aforesaid knowledge as their end: indeed, it is in everyone almost from the very beginning. Therefore, happiness does not consist in this kind of knowledge of God.

Again. No one appears to be blamed for lacking happiness: nay, those who have it not and seek it are praised. But he who lacks the aforesaid knowledge of God seems very much to be blamed, since it is a very clear sign of a man’s stupidity if he fails to perceive such evident signs of God’s existence—even as a man would be deemed dull who, seeing man, did not understood that he has a soul. Hence it is said in the Psalm: The fool says in his heart: ‘There is no God’ (Ps 13:1; 52:1). Therefore, this knowledge is not enough for happiness.

Further. Knowledge of a thing only in general, and not in respect of something proper to it, is most imperfect: for instance, knowledge of man from the fact that he is moved, for this is a knowledge whereby a thing is known only potentially, because the proper is only potentially contained in the common. Now happiness is a perfect operation: and man’s supreme good must be in respect of what he is actually, and not in respect of what he is only potentially, since potency perfected by act has the aspect of a good. Therefore, the aforesaid knowledge of God is not sufficient for our happiness.

That man’s happiness does not consist in the knowledge of God acquired by demonstration

There is also another knowledge of God, higher than the one just mentioned, which is acquired by means of a demonstration, and which approaches nearer to a proper knowledge of him. Here, by means of a demonstration many things are removed from him, so that we understand him as something apart from other things.¹ For demonstration proves that God is immovable, eternal, incorporeal, utterly simple, one, and the like, as we have shown in the first book.

Now we arrive at the proper knowledge of a thing not only by affirmation, but also by negation: for just as it is proper to man to be a rational animal, so is it proper to him not to be inanimate or irrational. Yet there is this difference between these two modes of knowledge: when we have proper knowledge of a thing by affirmation, we know what that thing is and how it is distinguished from others, but when we have proper knowledge of a thing by negations, we know that it is distinct from others but remain ignorant of what it is. Such is the proper knowledge of God that can be obtained by demonstrations. But neither does this suffice for man’s ultimate happiness.

For things belonging to one species for the most part attain to the end of that species, because nature achieves its purpose always or nearly always, and fails in a few instances on account of some corruption. Now happiness is the end of the human species, since all men naturally desire it. Therefore, happiness is a common good that can be attained by all men, unless some obstacle occur to some whereby they be debarred¹ from it. Few, however, attain to the possession of the aforesaid knowledge of God by way of demonstration on account of the obstacles to this knowledge, mentioned at the beginning of this work.² Therefore, this knowledge is not essentially man’s happiness.

Again. Actual existence is the end of that which exists potentially, as was made clear above.¹ Therefore, happiness, which is the last end, is an act free of any potency to a further act. Now this knowledge of God that is acquired by way of demonstration is still in potency to a further knowledge of God, or to the same knowledge, but by a better way, because those who came afterwards endeavored to add something to the knowledge of God besides that which they found handed down to them by those who preceded them. Therefore, such knowledge is not man’s ultimate happiness.

Further. Happiness excludes all unhappiness: for no man can be at the same time happy and unhappy. Now deception and error have a large place in unhappiness, since all naturally avoid them. But the aforesaid knowledge of God is subject to the admixture of many errors, as evidenced by many who knew some truths about God through demonstration, yet, following their own opinions when they lacked proof, fell into many errors. And if some there were who by the way of demonstration discovered the truth about divine things without any admixture of error in their opinions, it is evident that they were very few: which is inconsistent with happiness, which should be the common end. Therefore, man’s ultimate happiness is not seated in such knowledge as this.

Besides. When the will has obtained its last end, its desire is at rest. Now the ultimate end of all human knowledge is happiness. Therefore, happiness is essentially that knowledge of God whose possession leaves no knowledge to be desired of anything knowable. Such, however, is not the knowledge which philosophers were able to have about God by the way of demonstration, because even when we have that knowledge we still desire to know something more—things that we do not know yet by means of the aforesaid knowledge. Therefore, happiness does not consist in such knowledge of God.

Furthermore. The end of everything that is in potency is that it be brought to act: for to this does it tend by means of the movement with which it is moved to its end. Now everything that is in potency tends to be actualized as far as possible. For there are things in potency in that their whole potency is reducible to act, so that the end of such a thing is that its whole potency be actualized: thus a heavy body that is outside its medium is in potency to its proper place. There are also things whose potency cannot be actualized all at once, for instance, prime matter: hence by its movement it is appetent of actualization by various forms in succession, which cannot be in matter at the same time on account of their diversity. Now our intellect is in potency to all things intelligible, as stated in the second book.¹ And it is possible for two intelligible objects to be in the possible intellect at the same time in respect of the first act, which is science, although perhaps not in respect of the second act, which is consideration. Accordingly, it is clear that the whole potency of the possible intellect can be actualized at one time: consequently, this is required for its ultimate end, which is happiness. But the aforesaid knowledge which can be acquired about God by the way of demonstration does not effect this, since when we have it we still are ignorant of many things. Therefore, such knowledge of God does not suffice for ultimate happiness.

That man’s happiness does not consist in the knowledge of God by faith

There is yet another knowledge of God superior in one respect to the knowledge we have been discussing, namely, that through which God is known by men through faith. In this respect, it surpasses the knowledge of God through demonstration, because by faith we know certain things about God, which are so sublime that reason cannot reach them by means of demonstration, as we have stated at the beginning of this work.¹ But not even in this knowledge of God can man’s ultimate happiness consist.

For happiness is the intellect’s perfect operation, as already declared.¹ But in knowledge by faith the operation of the intellect is found to be most imperfect as regards that which is on the part of the intellect—although it is most perfect on the part of the object—for the intellect in believing does not grasp the object of its assent. Therefore, neither does man’s happiness consist in this knowledge of God.

Again. It has been shown¹ that ultimate happiness does not consist chiefly in an act of the will. Now in knowledge by faith the will has the leading place: for the intellect assents by faith to things proposed to it because it wills, and not through being constrained by the evidence of their truth. Therefore, man’s final happiness does not consist in this knowledge.

Besides. The believer assents to things proposed to him by another, but not seen by himself: so that the knowledge of faith resembles hearing rather than seeing. Now a man does not believe in what is unseen by him and proposed to him by another unless he thinks this other to have a more perfect knowledge of the things proposed than he himself has who sees not. Either, therefore, the believer thinks wrong, or the proposer must have more perfect knowledge of the things proposed. And if the latter also knows these things only through hearing them from another, we cannot proceed thus indefinitely: for then the assent of faith would be without foundation or certitude, since we should not come to some first principle certain in itself to give certitude to the faith of believers. But it is not possible that the assent of faith be false and without foundation, as is clear from what we have said at the beginning of this work:¹ yet if it were false and baseless, happiness could not consist in such knowledge.

There is, therefore, some knowledge of God that is higher than the knowledge of faith: whether he who proposes faith sees the truth immediately, as when we believe Christ, or receives the truth from him who sees it immediately, as when we believe the Apostles and prophets. Since, then, man’s happiness consists in the highest knowledge of God, it cannot consist in the knowledge of faith.

Moreover. Since happiness is the last end, the natural desire is set at rest by it. But the knowledge of faith does not set the desire at rest, but inflames it, because everyone desires to see what he believes. Therefore, man’s ultimate happiness does not consist in the knowledge of faith.

The intellectual substance has yet another knowledge of God. For we have said in the second book¹ that the separate intellectual substance, by knowing its own essence, knows both what is above it and what is below it, in a way proportionate to its substance. This must especially be the case if that which is above it be its cause, since the likeness to the cause must be found in the effect. Therefore, since God is the cause of all created intellectual substances, as proved above,² it follows that separate intellectual substances, by knowing their own essence, know God himself by the way of some kind of vision. For the intellect knows by the way of vision the thing whose likeness is in the intellect, just as the likeness of the thing seen by the body is in the sense of the seer. Whatever intellect, therefore, apprehends a separate substance by knowing what it is sees God in a higher way than he is known by any of the kinds of knowledge mentioned above.

Accordingly, because some¹ have deemed man’s ultimate happiness to be in this life because he knows separate substances, we must inquire whether in this life man is able to know separate substances: and it is a point that may well be questioned. For our intellect, according to its present state, understands nothing without a phantasm, which stands in the same relation to the possible intellect (by which we understand) as colors to the sight, as was made clear in the second book.² Hence if, through the intellectual knowledge which is acquired from phantasms, it be possible for any of us to succeed in understanding separate substances, it will be possible in this life for someone to understand these same separate substances. In consequence, by seeing these separate substances, he will participate in that mode of knowledge with which the separate substance, by understanding itself, understands God. If, on the other hand, it be altogether unable to succeed in understanding separate substances by knowledge derived from phantasms, it will be impossible for man in the present state of life to acquire the above mode of divine knowledge.

The possibility of succeeding in understanding separate substances through knowledge derived from phantasms has been explained by some in various ways. Avempace¹ maintained that by the study of speculative sciences, it is possible to arrive at a knowledge of separate substances from understanding those things which we know through phantasms. For we are able by the action of the intellect to extract the quiddity of a thing which has quiddity without being its quiddity. For the intellect is naturally adapted to know any quiddity as such, since the proper object of the intellect is what a thing is. Now if that which is first understood by the possible intellect is something that has a quiddity, we can, by the possible intellect, abstract the quiddity of the thing first understood; and if this quiddity has again a quiddity, it will be again possible to abstract the quiddity of this quiddity. And since we cannot go on indefinitely, we must stop somewhere. Therefore, by way of analysis our intellect can arrive at knowing a quiddity that has no quiddity: such is the quiddity of a separate substance. Consequently, through its knowledge of these sensibles that is acquired from phantasms our intellect can arrive at understanding separate substances.

He goes on to prove the same statement by another yet similar way. Thus, he lays down that the idea of a thing (say, of a horse) in me and in you is multiplied only through the multiplication of the spiritual forms, which are different in you and me. It follows, then, that an idea which is not clothed with any such form is the same in you and me. Now, as we have proved, the quiddity of the idea, which our intellect by its innate aptitude abstracts, has no spiritual and individual form: for the quiddity of the idea is not the quiddity of the individual, whether corporeal or spiritual, since the thing understood, as such, is universal. Therefore, our intellect has a natural aptitude to understand a quiddity the idea of which is the same in all. Such is the quiddity of a separate substance. Therefore, our intellect has a natural aptitude to know separate substances.

Yet, if we consider the matter carefully, these explanations are frivolous. For, since the idea as such is universal, the quiddity of an idea must be the quiddity of a universal—namely, genus or species. Now the quiddity of the genus or species of these sensible objects, the intellective knowledge of which we acquire through phantasms, includes both matter and form. Consequently, it is quite unlike the quiddity of a separate substance, which is simple and immaterial. Therefore, it is impossible to understand the quiddity of a separate substance through understanding the quiddity of a sensible object.

Moreover. If we grant that the quiddity of a separate substance is of the same kind as the quiddity of the genus or species of these sensible things, it cannot be said to be of the same specific kind, unless we say that the species of these sensible things are the separate substances themselves, as the Platonists maintained. It follows that they are only of the same kind in the point of quiddity as such, namely, in the common ratio of genus and substance. Consequently, by means of these quiddities we shall understand nothing about separate substances except their remote genus. Now by knowing the genus, we do not therefore know the species except potentially. Therefore, it will not be possible to understand a separate substance through understanding the quiddities of these sensible things.

Besides. A separate substance differs more from sensible things than one sensible from another. But understanding the quiddity of one sensible does not suffice for understanding the quiddity of another: for a man who is born blind is quite unable to understand the quiddity of color through understanding the quiddity of sound. Much less, therefore, will anyone be able to understand the quiddity of a separate substance through understanding the quiddity of a sensible substance.

Further. If again we grant that the spheres of the separate substance are causes of movement, and that by their movement they cause the forms of sensible substances,¹ this mode of knowing separate substances through sensible things does not suffice for knowing their quiddity. For from the effect we know its cause either in the point of likeness between cause and effect, or in that the effect indicates the power of the cause. In the point of likeness, we do not gather from the effect what the cause is, unless agent and effect be of one species, and this is not the case with separate substances and sensible things. In the point of power, it is again impossible unless the effect equal the power of the cause, since then the whole power of the cause is known from the effect, and the power of a thing indicates its substance. But this cannot apply to the point in question, because the powers of separate substances surpass all the sensible effects that our intellect understands, even as a universal power surpasses a particular effect. It is therefore impossible to arrive at understanding separate substances through understanding sensible objects.

Moreover. Whatever intelligible things we are able to know by means of inquiry and study belong to one or other of the speculative sciences. Accordingly, if through understanding the natures and quiddities of these sensible objects, we succeed in understanding separate substances, it follows that it would be possible to understand separate substances through one or the other speculative science. Yet we do not find this to be the case: for no speculative science teaches what any separate substance is, but only the fact that it is. It is, therefore, not possible to succeed in understanding separate substances through understanding the natures of sensible objects.

And if it be said that such a speculative science is possible, although it has not yet been discovered, this makes no difference, since it is not possible to arrive at understanding the aforesaid substances from any principles known to us. For all the proper principles of any science whatever depend on the first indemonstrable self-evident principles, the knowledge of which we acquire from sensible objects, as stated in 2 Posterior Analytics.¹ And sensible objects do not sufficiently lead to the knowledge of immaterial things, as we have proved in the preceding arguments. Therefore, no science is possible by which one may be able to attain to the understanding of separate substances.

That in this life we are unable to know separate substances in the manner proposed by Alexander¹

Alexander supposed the possible intellect to be subject to generation and corruption, on account of its being a disposition of human nature resulting from the mixture of the elements, as we have seen in the second book.¹ Now it is not possible for a power of this kind to rise above the material world. And so he maintained that our possible intellect can never attain to the understanding of separate substances: but he held that, according to our present state of life, we are able to understand separate substances.

He endeavored to prove this as follows. Whenever a thing is completed in its generation, and has reached the ultimate perfection of its substance, its proper operation (whether action or passion) will also be completed. For even as operation follows substance, so does perfection of operation follow perfection of substance: hence an animal, when quite perfect, is able to walk by itself. Now the habitual intellect, which is nothing else but the intelligible species formed by the active intellect and residing in the possible intellect, has a twofold operation. One is to make things potentially understood to be actually understood (and this it has in reference to the active intellect), while the other is to understand what is actually understood: for man is able to do these two things by an intellectual habit. Accordingly, when the generation of the habitual intellect is complete, both of these operations will be completed in the intellect. Now whenever the intellect acquires new species, it reaches the complement of its generation. And so its generation must necessarily be completed at some time, unless there be an impediment, since no generation tends to the infinite. Therefore, eventually both operations will be completed in the habitual intellect, by its making all things potentially understood to be understood actually—which is the complement of the first operation—and by understanding all things intelligible, both separate and not separate.

And seeing that (as we have stated) the possible intellect is unable to understand separate substances according to his opinion, he means that we shall understand separate substances by the habitual intellect insofar as the active intellect (which, according to him, is a separate substance) will become the form of the habitual intellect and be united to us, so that we shall understand by it, even as now we understand by the possible intellect. And, since it is in the power of the active intellect to make potentially intelligible things actually understood, and to understand separate substances, in that state we shall understand separate substances and all non-separate intelligible things.

According to this explanation, we attain to the knowledge of the separate substance by this knowledge which we derive from phantasms not as though the phantasms themselves and the things understood from them were a means for knowing separate substances, as happens in speculative sciences, which was the position of the previous opinion;¹ but because the intelligible species are in us a kind of disposition to this particular form which is the active intellect. This is the first point of difference between these two opinions.

Consequently, when the habitual intellect becomes perfect through these intelligible species produced in us by the active intellect, the active intellect itself becomes a form united to us, as stated. And he calls this the acquired intellect, which, they state, Aristotle held to come from without. And so, although man’s ultimate perfection is not seated in the speculative sciences, as the previous opinion maintained; yet by them man is disposed for the attainment of his ultimate perfection. This is the second point of difference between the second and first opinions.

Third, they differ in this: according to the first opinion, the active intellect’s act of understanding is the cause of its union with us, but in the second opinion, the reverse is the case, since it is because it is united to us as a form that we understand it and other separate substances.

But these things are said irrationally. For the habitual intellect, like the possible intellect, is supposed by Alexander to be subject to generation and corruption. Now, according to him, an eternal thing cannot become the form of that which can be generated and corrupted. This is why he maintains that the possible intellect, which is united to us as a form, is subject to generation and corruption; and that the active intellect, which is incorruptible, is a separate substance. Since, according to Alexander, the active intellect is supposed to be an eternal separate substance, it will be impossible for the active intellect to become the form of the habitual intellect.

Besides. There are three ways in which we are said to understand by means of something. First, we understand by means of the intellect, which is the power that elicits this operation: hence also the intellect may be said to understand, and the very act of the intellect in understanding becomes our act of understanding. Second, we understand by means of the intelligible species, whereby we are said to understand not as though the species itself understood, but because the intellective power is actuated by it, just as the power of sight is by the species of color. Third, as by a medium through knowing which we arrive at the knowledge of something else.

If, then, man at length understands separate substances through his intellect, it must be in one of these ways. It is not in the third way, because Alexander does not grant that either the possible or the habitual intellect understands the active intellect. Nor is it in the second way, because to understand by means of an intelligible species is ascribed to the intellective power that is informed by that species, yet Alexander does not grant that either the possible or the habitual intellect understands separate substances: consequently, we cannot possibly understand separate substances by means of the active intellect in the same way as we understand things by means of an intelligible species. And if it is as by an intellective power, it follows that the active intellect’s act of understanding is the man’s act of understanding. Now this cannot be unless the substance of the active intellect and the substance of the man be joined together in unity of being: for it is impossible that there be identity of operation where there is distinction of substances. Hence the active intellect will be one in being with man. But not in respect of accidental being, because the active intellect would then be not a substance but an accident: for instance, color added to a body makes one according to accidental being. It would follow then that the active intellect together with man makes one in substantial being. Therefore, it will be either the human soul or a part of it, and not a separate substance, as Alexander maintained. Therefore, the opinion of Alexander does not explain how man can understand separate substances.

Moreover. If the active intellect at any time become the form of this particular man, so that he be able to understand by means of it, for the same reason it may become the form of some other man who will likewise understand by its means: the result being that at the same time two men will understand by means of the active intellect, as their form. But this implies that the active intellect’s act of understanding is the act of understanding of the man who understands by its means, as already stated: consequently, two who understand will have one act of understanding. This is impossible.

Moreover, his reasoning is altogether frivolous. First, because when the generation of a genus is perfected, its operation must be perfected, yet in keeping with the mode of that, but not of a higher genus: for when the generation of air is perfected, it has generation and complete upward movement, yet not so as to be moved towards the place of fire. Likewise, when the generation of the habitual intellect is complete, its operation, which is to understand, will be complete according to its mode, but not according to the mode of understanding in separate substances, so as to understand separate substances. Consequently, it cannot be concluded from the generation of the habitual intellect that at some time man will understand separate substances.

Second, because it belongs to the same power to complete an operation and to perform it. Consequently, if the perfection of the habitual intellect’s operation be to understand separate substances, it follows that the habitual intellect sometimes understands separate substances. But Alexander does not hold this: for it would follow that to understand separate substances comes to us through the speculative sciences, which are comprised under the habitual intellect.

Third, those things that begin to be generated for the most part are completely generated, since all generations of things are due to definite causes, which produce their effects either always or in the majority of cases. If, then, completeness of action follows completeness of generation, it follows that complete operation accrues to things generated always or for the most part. And yet those who study in order that habitual intellect may be engendered in them do not succeed in understanding separate substances, either in most, or in all, cases. In fact, no one has boasted of having attained to this point of perfection. Therefore, the perfection of the habitual intellect is not to understand separate substances.

That we cannot understand separate substances in this life in the manner suggested by Averroes¹

As the greatest difficulty presented by Alexander’s opinion was that he supposed the habitual intellect to be altogether corruptible, Averroes thought to offer an easier proof that at times we understand separate substances, in that he deemed the possible intellect to be incorruptible and substantially separate from us, just as the active intellect.

First, he shows the necessity of admitting that the relation of the active intellect to those principles which we know naturally is either that of agent to instrument or that of form to matter. For the habitual intellect, by which we understand, does not only have the action ‘to understand,’ but also this one, ‘to make things actually understood’: for we know by experience that both are in our power. Now to make things actually understood indicates more specially the habitual intellect than to understand, because it is necessary to make a thing actually understood before one understands it. Now, in us certain things are made actually understood naturally, and not by study or by choice, as the first intelligible principles. And it does not belong to the habitual intellect to make these actually understood, for it belongs to this power to make actually understood those things which we know by study. Rather they are beginning of the habitual intellect; hence Aristotle gives the name ‘understanding’ to the habit of these principles.¹ And they are made actually understood by the active intellect alone: and by them those other things are made actually understood which we know by study. Accordingly, to make these things which are by way of consequence understood actually is an act both of the habitual intellect, as to first principles, and of the active intellect. Now one action does not proceed from two principles unless one of them be compared to the other as agent to instrument, or as form to matter. Consequently, the active intellect must be compared to the first principles of the habitual intellect either as agent to instrument, or as form to matter.

How this may be possible he explains as follows. Since the possible intellect, according to his opinion, is a separate substance,¹ it understands the active intellect and other separate substances, as well as the first principles of speculative knowledge: consequently, it is the subject of both. Now whenever two things come together in one subject, one of them is as the form of the other. Even so, since color and light are in the diaphanous body as their subject, one of them (namely, light) must be the form of the other (namely, color). And this is necessary when one of them is ordained to the other, but not when they are united accidentally in the same subject, as whiteness and music. Now the object of speculative knowledge and the active intellect are mutually ordained to each other, since these understood speculative principles are made actually understood by the active intellect. Therefore, the active intellect is related to these understood speculative principles as form to matter.

Consequently, since these same principles are joined to us by phantasms, which are a kind of subject thereof, it follows that the active intellect also is joined to us, being the form of these principles. When, therefore, these principles are in us only potentially, the active intellect is only joined to us potentially. When some of these principles are in us actually and some potentially, the active intellect is joined to us actually in part, and potentially in part: and then it is said to be moved towards the above conjunction, because as the more things are made actually understood in us, the more perfectly is the active intellect joined to us. And this progress and movement towards conjunction is effected by study in speculative sciences, by which we acquire true knowledge and put aside false opinions, which are outside the order of this movement just as monstrosities are outside the operation of nature. Hence men help one another towards this progress, just as they help one another in speculative sciences.

And so, when all potential knowledge has become actual in us, the active intellect will be perfectly joined to us as a form, and we shall understand perfectly by it, just as now we understand perfectly by the habitual intellect. Consequently, since it belongs to the active intellect to understand separate substances, we shall then understand separate substances, just as now we understand speculative knowledge. This will be man’s ultimate happiness, in which man will be like a god.

That this explanation is of no account whatever is made clear enough by what we have already said: for it is based on many suppositions that have been already disproved.

First, we have shown above¹ that the possible intellect is not a substance distinct from us in being. Hence it does not follow that it is the subject of separate substances: especially since Aristotle asserts² that the possible intellect is the power of becoming all things, so that seemingly it is the subject only of such things as are made to be understood.

Again. It has also been proved above¹ that the active intellect is not a separate substance, but part of the soul, to which Aristotle assigns the operation of making things to be actually understood, which lies in our power. Hence it does not follow that understanding by means of the active intellect is the cause of our being able to understand separate substances: else we would always understand them.

Further. If the active intellect were a separate substance, it would not be joined to us except by means of species made to be actually understood, according to his explanation, as neither would the possible intellect be united to us (although the possible intellect is related to those species as matter to form, while the active intellect, on the contrary, is related to them as form to matter). Now the species which are made to be actually understood are joined to us, according to him, by means of the phantasms, which stand related to the possible intellect as colors to the sight, but to the active intellect as colors to the light, as may be gathered from the statement of Aristotle.¹ Now we cannot ascribe to a stone, in which color is, either the action of seeing (so that it sees), nor the action of the sun (so that it gives light). Therefore, according to this opinion, we cannot ascribe to man either the action of the possible intellect so that he understands, or the action of the active intellect, so that he understands separate substances, or that he makes things to be actually understood.

Besides. According to this opinion, the active intellect is not supposed to be joined to us as a form, except through its being the form of the principles of understanding—of which it is stated to be the form also because the active intellect and these principles have an action in common (namely, to make things actually understood). Consequently, it cannot be a form to us except insofar as the principles of knowledge have an action in common with it. But these principles have no share in the action of understanding separate substances, because they are species of sensible things: unless we return to the opinion of Avempace, that the quiddities of separate substances can be known by means of what we know of the sensible world. Therefore, in no way can we understand separate substances by this means.

Again. If we know separate substances by means of the active intellect, this is not because the active intellect is the form of this or that principle of understanding, but through its becoming a form in us, for it is thus that we are able to understand by its means. Now it becomes a form in us also by means of the first principles of understanding, according to his own statement. Therefore, from the very beginning man can understand separate substances by means of the active intellect.

If, however, it be said that the active intellect does not become a form in us perfectly by means of some principles of understanding, so that we be able to understand separate substances, the sole reason for this is that these principles of understanding do not equal the perfection of the active intellect in understanding separate substances. But not even all these principles of understanding combined together equal this perfection of the active intellect in understanding separate substances, since all of them are not intelligible except insofar as they are made to be actually understood, whereas the latter are intelligible by their very nature. Therefore, although we shall know all these intelligible principles, it does not follow that the active intellect will become a form in us so perfectly that we understand separate substances by it. Otherwise, if this is not required, we shall have to admit that by understanding anything intelligible, we also understand separate substances.

That man’s ultimate happiness does not consist in the knowledge of separate substances as pretended by the aforesaid opinions

But it is impossible to allow that man’s happiness consists in such a knowledge of separate substances as the above mentioned opinions¹ maintained.

For it is of no purpose to strive for an end by means which cannot secure that end. Since, then, man’s ultimate end is happiness, to which his natural desire tends, it is impossible to assign man’s happiness to that which he cannot obtain: else it would follow that man was made in vain, and that his natural desire is void, which is impossible. Now it is clear from what we have said that it is impossible for man to understand separate substances, as laid down by the above mentioned opinions. Therefore, man’s happiness does not consist in such knowledge of separate substances.

Besides. Granted that it be possible for man to be united to the active intellect in the manner suggested, it is clear that such a perfection is obtainable by very few; so much so that neither they nor any one else, however much they be advanced and skilled in speculative sciences, have dared to boast of having obtained this perfection. In fact, all of them have confessed to ignorance of many things. Thus Aristotle, speaking of the quadrature of a circle, and of the reasons for the order in heavenly bodies, himself states¹ that he can only give probable arguments: he leaves to others to decide what is certain in these things and their movers.² Now happiness is a common good to which many can arrive unless they be prevented, as Aristotle says.³ It is true also of any natural end of a species that it is obtained by the majority of the members of that species. Therefore, man’s ultimate happiness cannot consist in the aforesaid union.

It is clear that Aristotle, whose opinion the philosophers in question endeavored to follow, did not hold that man’s ultimate happiness consists in a union of this kind. For he proves¹ that man’s happiness is an operation of his own according to perfect virtue—therefore, he had to treat specially of the virtues, which he divided into moral and intellectual—and he proves² that man’s ultimate happiness consists in contemplation. Hence it follows that it is not seated in the act of a moral virtue, nor of prudence or art (and yet these are intellectual virtues). Consequently, it must be an operation according to wisdom, which is the chief of the three remaining intellectual virtues (namely, wisdom, knowledge and understanding), as he proves in 6 Ethics:³ for this reason he declares⁴ that the wise man is a happy man. Now according to him⁵ wisdom is one of the speculative sciences, and the head of the others, and at the beginning of the Metaphysics, he gives the name of wisdom to the science of which he purposes to treat. Clearly, therefore, the opinion of Aristotle was that the ultimate happiness which man is able to obtain in this life is that knowledge of divine things which can be acquired through the speculative sciences. But this last way of knowing divine things, not through speculative sciences, but by a kind of natural process of generation, was invented by some of his commentators.

That it is impossible in this life to understand separate substances

Since, then, in this life separate substances cannot be known by us in the ways mentioned above,¹ it remains for us to inquire whether we be able to understand separate substances in this life in any way at all.

Themistius¹ seeks to prove that this is possible by an argument a fortiori. For separate substances are more intelligible than material things, since the latter are intelligible insofar as the active intellect causes them to be actually understood, whereas the former are intelligible in themselves. If, therefore, our intellect understands these material things, much more is it adapted to understand separate substances.

This argument must be appraised in the light of the various opinions about the possible intellect. For if the possible intellect is a power independent of matter, and has its being apart from the body, as Averroes maintains, it will follow that it has no necessary relation to things material; so that the more a thing is intelligible in itself, the more will it be intelligible to the possible intellect. But then it would seem to follow, since we understand from the beginning by means of the possible intellect, that we understand separate substances from the beginning: which is clearly false.

Averroes seeks to avoid this difficulty, as we have explained above in setting forth his opinion, which we proved to be false.

If, however, the possible intellect is not separate from the body in its very being, it has a necessary relation to material things from the very fact that it is united in being to such a body, so that only through them can it acquire knowledge of other things. Hence it does not follow that separate substances are more intelligible to our intellect if they are more intelligible in themselves. This is proved by the words of Aristotle. For he says there that the difficulty of understanding those things is in us and not in them because our intellect stands in relation to things most evident as the eye of the owl to the sunlight.¹ Consequently, seeing that we cannot arrive at understanding separate substances through understanding material things, as we have proved,² it follows that our possible intellect can in no way understand separate substances.

This appears again from the relation of the possible to the active intellect. For a passive power is in potency to those things only which are included in the range of its proper active principle, for every passive power has a corresponding active power in nature: otherwise passive power would be useless, since it cannot be brought to act except by an active principle. Hence we find that the sight is not receptive of anything other than colors which are enlightened by the light. Now the possible intellect is a power in a certain sense passive, and therefore it has its corresponding agent, namely the active intellect, which stands in relation to the possible intellect as light to the sight. Consequently, the possible intellect is in potency to those intelligible objects only which have been made so by the active intellect. Therefore, Aristotle, in describing each intellect, says that the possible intellect is the power to become all things, while the active intellect is the medium of making all things:¹ so that the power in either case refers to the same objects, being active in the one and passive in the other. Since, then, separate substances are not made actually intelligible by the active intellect, and only material things are so made, it follows that the possible intellect extends to these alone. Therefore, we cannot understand separate substances thereby.

Therefore, Aristotle employed a fitting example: for the owl’s eye can never see the light of the sun. And yet Averroes tries to depreciate this example, saying that the likeness between our intellect in relation to separate substances and the owl’s eye in relation to the sun’s light is one of difficulty, not of impossibility: and he proves this as follows. If it were impossible for us to understand things intelligible in themselves (namely, separate substances), they would be intelligible without purpose, as a thing would be visible to no purpose if it could not be seen by any sight.

Now this argument is clearly of no account at all. For, even if these substances be never understood by us, they are understood by themselves, so that they would not be intelligible without purpose, as—to continue Aristotle’s comparison—neither is the sun uselessly visible because the owl cannot see it, since man and other animals can see it.

Accordingly, if we suppose the possible intellect to be united in being to the body, it cannot understand separate substances. It makes a difference, however, what we hold with regard to its substance. For if we suppose it to be a material force subject to generation and corruption, as some have maintained,¹ it would follow that by its very substance it is confined to the understanding of material things: consequently, it would in no way be able to understand separate substances, since it could not possibly itself be separate.

On the other hand, if the possible intellect, although united to the body, be incorruptible and independent of matter in its being (as we have proved above),¹ it follows that its being confined to the understanding of material things is incidental to it through its union with the body. And so, when the soul will have been separated from the body, the possible intellect will be able to understand things that are intelligible in themselves (namely, separate substances) by the light of the active intellect, which in the soul is like the intellectual light that is in separate substances.

This is what our faith holds about our understanding separate substances after death and not in this life.

That in this life the soul does not understand itself by itself

A certain difficulty would seem to arise against what we have been saying, on account of a passage of Augustine which must be carefully discussed. For he says: Just as the mind gathers knowledge of corporeal things by means of the senses, so does it acquire knowledge of incorporeal things by itself. Therefore, it also knows itself by itself, since itself is incorporeal.¹ For it would seem to follow from these words that the soul understands itself by itself, and that by understanding itself, it understands separate substances: this is contrary to what we have proved. We must, accordingly, inquire how the soul understands itself by itself.

Now it cannot possibly be said that by itself it understands what itself is. For a cognitive power is made actually cognoscent by something in it whereby it knows. And if this be in it potentially, it knows potentially; if it be in it actually, it knows actually; and if it be in a middle way, it knows habitually. Now the soul is always actually present to itself, and never only potentially or habitually. Therefore, if the soul knows itself by itself, it will always understand actually what itself is: and this is clearly false.

Again. If the soul understands what itself is by itself, and every man has a soul, every man will know what his soul is. This is obviously untrue.

Moreover. Knowledge that results from something implanted in us by nature is itself natural: for instance, the self-evident principles which are known through the light of the active intellect. Accordingly, if by the soul itself we know what the soul is, we shall know it naturally. But no one can err in things that we know naturally, for no one errs in self-evident principles. Thus no one would err about what the soul is if the soul knew this by itself. But this is clearly false, since many have maintained the soul to be this or that body; some, that it consisted in number or harmony.¹ Therefore, the soul does not, by itself, know what itself is.

Furthermore. In every order that which is essential precedes and causes that which is accidental. Accordingly, that which is known essentially is known before all things that are known through something else, and is the principle through which they are known—for instance, first principles in comparison with conclusions. Therefore, if the soul, by itself, knows what itself is, this will be known essentially, and consequently it will be known first, and will be the principle whereby other things are known. But this is clearly false: for science does not postulate what the soul is as being something already known, but proposes it as a point of inquiry from other sources. Therefore, the soul does not by itself know what itself is.

But it is clear that neither did Augustine intend this. For he says that when the soul seeks self-knowledge, it does not seek to see itself as though it were absent, but to discern itself as present: not to know itself, as though it knew not; but in order to distinguish itself from what it knows to be distinct.¹ From which he gives one to understand that by itself the soul knows itself as present to itself, but not as distinct from other things. Hence he says that some erred in not distinguishing the soul from things that are different from it. Now through knowing what a thing is, one knows it as distinct from others: hence a definition, which states what a thing is, distinguishes the thing defined from all others. Consequently, Augustine did not mean that the soul by itself knows what itself is.

Neither did Aristotle mean this. He says in fact that the possible intellect understands itself even as it understands other things.¹ For it understands itself by means of an intelligible species, by which it is brought to actual intelligibility. For, considered in itself, it is only potentially an intelligible being: but nothing is known according as it is in potency, but only according as it is in act. Hence separate substances, the substance of which is as something actual in the genus of things intelligible, understand by their very substance what they are; but our possible intellect understands what it is through the intelligible species by which it is made actually understanding. And so Aristotle² shows the nature of the possible intellect from the act of understanding, namely, that it is unmixed with the body and incorruptible, as we explained above.³

Accordingly, Augustine means to say that our mind knows itself by itself inasmuch as it knows that it is, because by the very fact that it perceives itself to act, it perceives that it exists; since it acts by itself, it knows by itself that it exists.

In this way, then, the soul, by knowing itself, knows of the separate substances that they are, but not what they are, which is to understand their substance. For when either by demonstration or by faith we know that separate substances are certain intellectual substances, in neither way could we receive this knowledge, unless our soul derived from itself the knowledge of intellectual being. Consequently, we must use the science about the soul’s intelligence as a principle on which to establish all our knowledge about separate substances.

But if by the speculative sciences we are able to arrive at the knowledge of what the soul is, it does not follow that we are able to arrive at the knowledge of what separate substances are by means of these sciences, because our intelligence, by which we arrive at the knowledge of what the soul is, is far removed from the intelligence of a separate substance. Nevertheless, through knowing what our soul is, we are able to go so far as to know a remote genus of the separate substances: but this is not the same as to understand their substance.

And just as through the soul itself we know that the soul is—inasmuch as we perceive its acts and seek by a study of its acts and their objects to know what it is through the principles of speculative sciences—so too, concerning those things that are in our soul (namely, its powers and habits), we know indeed that they are inasmuch as we perceive their acts; but what they are we gather from the nature of these same acts.

That in this life we are unable to see God in his essence

If, in this life, we are unable to understand separate substances by reason of our intellect’s innate relation to phantasms, much less can we see the divine essence in this life, since it is far above all separate substances.

We may take it as a sign of this, that the more our mind is raised to the contemplation of spiritual things, the more is it withdrawn from sensible things. Now the divine substance is the highest term to which contemplation can reach. Hence the mind that sees the divine substance must be wholly freed from the senses, either by death or by rapture. Therefore, it is said in God’s person: Man shall not see me and live (Exod 33:20).

If it is stated in Sacred Scripture that some have seen God, we must understand this to have been either through an imaginary vision, or even a bodily vision, the presence of the divine power being shown by corporeal species (whether appearing externally, or formed internally in the imagination), or by gathering some intellectual knowledge of God from his spiritual effects.

A difficulty, however, arises through some words of Augustine which would seem to imply that we are able to understand God in this life. For he says that with the eyes of the soul we see the form of our being and of our actions—whether effected in ourselves or truly and rightly on other bodies—in the eternal truth, from which all temporal things proceed.¹ Again he says: If we both see that what you say is true, and that what I say is true: where, I ask, do we see this? Surely, neither I in you, nor you in me; but both of us in the immutable truth itself which transcends our minds.² And he says that we judge of all things according to the divine truth;³ and again: We must first know the truth by which other things can be known,⁴ referring, it would seem, to the divine truth. It would seem then, from his words, that we see God himself who is his own truth, and that through him we know other things.

Other words of his would seem to point to the same conclusion, where he says: It is the duty of reason to judge of these corporeal things according to the incorporeal and eternal ideas which, unless they were above the human mind, would surely not be unchangeable.¹ Now unchangeable and eternal ideas cannot be elsewhere than in God, since according to the teaching of faith, God alone is eternal. Accordingly, it would seem to follow that we can see God in this life, and that through seeing him and the ideas of things in him, we judge of other things.

Yet it is not to be believed that Augustine, by these words, meant that we are able in this life to see God in his essence. We must therefore inquire how we see that unchangeable truth or these eternal ideas in this life, and how judge of them according to it.

Augustine allows that truth is in the soul:¹ hence he proves the immortality of the soul from the eternity of truth. Now truth is in the soul not only in the same way as God is said to be in all things by his essence, or as he is in all things by his likeness—a thing being true so far as it is like to God—for then the soul would not be higher than other things in this respect. It is therefore in the soul in a special way, insofar as the soul knows the truth. Accordingly, just as the soul and other things are said to be true in their nature according as they are likened to that supreme nature which is truth itself (since it is its own being understood by itself), so too, that which is known by the soul is true so far as it bears a likeness to that divine truth which God knows. Therefore, a gloss on Psalm 12: Truths are decayed from among the children of men (Ps 12[11]:2), says that as a mirror gives many reflections of one face, so are many truths reflected in men’s minds from the first truth.²

Now, although different things are known and different things believed to be true by different people, yet some truths there are in which all men agree—such as first principles both of the speculative and of the practical intellect—inasmuch as a kind of image of the divine truth is reflected in the minds of all men. Consequently, when a mind knows with certitude anything at all, and by tracing it back to the principles by which we judge of everything, comes to see it in those principles, it is said to see all such things in the divine truth or in the eternal ideas, and to judge of all things according to them. This explanation is confirmed by Augustine’s words: The speculations of science are seen in the divine truth, even as these visible things are seen in the light of the sun:¹ for it is evident that these things are not seen in the body of the sun, but by the light, which is a likeness of the solar brilliance reflected in the air, and cast upon such bodies.

Therefore, from these words of Augustine, we cannot conclude that God is seen in his essence in this life, but only as in a mirror. To this the Apostle witnesses as regards the knowledge of this life: Now we see in a mirror dimly (1 Cor 13:12).

And though this mirror, which is the human mind, reflects the likeness of God more faithfully than creatures of lower degree, yet the knowledge of God that can be gathered from the human mind does not surpass the knowledge gathered from sensible things, for even the soul only knows what itself is through understanding the nature of sensible things (as already stated).¹ Consequently, even in this way God is not known in higher fashion than the cause is known from its effect.

That man’s ultimate happiness is not in this life

Seeing, then, that man’s ultimate happiness does not consist in that knowledge of God whereby he is known by all or many in a vague kind of opinion, nor again in that knowledge of God whereby he is known in science through demonstration, nor in that knowledge whereby he is known through faith, as we have proved above;¹ and seeing that it is not possible in this life to arrive at a higher knowledge of God in his essence, or at least so that we understand other separate substances, and thus know God in a way through that which is nearest to him,² as we have proved; and since we must place our ultimate happiness in some kind of knowledge of God, as we have shown;³ it is impossible for man’s happiness to be in this life.

Again. Man’s last end is the term of his natural appetite, so that when he has obtained it, he desires nothing more, because if he still has a movement towards something, he has not yet reached an end in which to be at rest. Now, this cannot happen in this life, since the more man understands, the more is the desire to understand increased in him—this being natural to man—unless perhaps someone there be who understands all things. And in this life this never did nor can happen to anyone who was a mere man; seeing that in this life we are unable to know separate substances, which in themselves are most intelligible, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, man’s ultimate happiness cannot possibly be in this life.

Besides. Whatever is in motion towards an end has a natural desire to be established and at rest in it. Hence a body does not move away from the place towards which it has a natural movement, except by a violent movement which is contrary to that appetite. Now happiness is the last end which man desires naturally. Therefore, it is his natural desire to be established in happiness. Consequently, unless together with happiness he acquires a state of immobility, he is not yet happy, since his natural desire is not yet at rest. When, therefore, a man acquires happiness, he also acquires stability and rest, so that all agree in conceiving stability as a necessary condition of happiness. Hence the Philosopher says: We do not look upon the happy man as a kind of chameleon.¹ Now, in this life there is no sure stability: for however happy a man may be, sickness and misfortune may come upon him, so that he is hindered in the operation, whatever it be, in which his happiness consists. Therefore, man’s ultimate happiness cannot be in this life.

Moreover. It would seem unfitting and unreasonable for a thing to take a long time in becoming, and to have but a short time in being: for it would follow that for a longer duration of time nature would be deprived of its end. Hence we see that animals which live but a short time are perfected in a short time. But if happiness consists in a perfect operation according to perfect virtue,¹ whether intellectual or moral, it cannot possibly come to man except after a long time. This is most evident in speculative matters, wherein man’s ultimate happiness consists, as we have proved:² for man is hardly able to arrive at perfection in the speculations of science, even though he reach the last stage of life. And then in the majority of cases only a short space of life remains to him. Therefore, man’s ultimate happiness cannot be in this life.

Again. Man naturally shuns death, and is sad about it: not only shunning it now when he feels its presence, but also when he thinks about it. But man, in this life, cannot escape death. Therefore, it is not possible for man to be happy in this life.

Besides. Ultimate happiness consists not in a habit but in an operation, since habits are for the sake of actions. But in this life it is impossible to perform any action continuously. Therefore, man cannot be entirely happy in this life.

Further. The more a thing is desired and loved, the more does its loss bring sorrow and pain. Now happiness is most desired and loved. Therefore, its loss brings the greatest sorrow. But if there be ultimate happiness in this life, it will certainly be lost, at least by death. Nor is it certain that it will last till death, since it is possible for every man in this life to encounter disorders by which he is wholly hindered from the operation of virtue, such as madness and the like, which hinder the use of reason. Such happiness, therefore, always has sorrow naturally connected with it: consequently, it will not be perfect happiness.

But someone might say that, since happiness is a good of the intellectual nature, perfect and true happiness is for those in whom the intellectual nature is perfect—namely, in separate substances—and that it is imperfect in man, by way of a kind of participation. For he can arrive at a full understanding of the truth only by a sort of movement of inquiry; and fails entirely to understand things that are by nature most intelligible, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, neither is happiness, in its perfect form, possible to man; yet he has a certain participation in it, even in this life. This seems to have been Aristotle’s opinion about happiness. Therefore, inquiring² whether misfortunes destroy happiness, he shows that happiness seems especially to consist in deeds of virtue, which seem to be most stable in this life, and concludes that those who in this life attain to this perfection are happy as men, as though not attaining to happiness simply, but in a human way.

We must now show that this explanation does not avoid the foregoing arguments.

For although man is below the separate substances in the natural order, he is above irrational creatures: therefore, he attains his ultimate end in a more perfect way than they. Now these attain their last end so perfectly that they seek nothing further: thus a heavy body rests when it is in its own proper place; and when an animal enjoys sensible pleasure, its natural desire is at rest. Much more, therefore, must man’s natural desire be at rest when he has obtained his last end. But this cannot happen in this life. Therefore, in this life man does not obtain happiness considered as his proper end, as we have proved. Therefore, he must obtain it after this life.

Again. The natural desire cannot be void, since nature does nothing in vain.¹ But nature’s desire would be void if it could never be fulfilled. Therefore, man’s natural desire can be fulfilled; but it cannot be fulfilled in this life, as we have shown. Therefore, it must be fulfilled after this life. Therefore, man’s ultimate happiness is after this life.

Moreover. As long as a thing is in motion towards perfection, it has not reached its last end. Now in the knowledge of truth all men are ever in motion and tending towards perfection, because those who follow make discoveries in addition to those made by their predecessors, as stated in 2 Metaphysics.¹ Therefore, in the knowledge of truth man is not situated as though he had arrived at his last end. Since, then (as Aristotle himself shows),² man’s ultimate happiness in this life appears to consist in speculation, whereby he seeks the knowledge of truth, we cannot possibly allow that man obtains his last end in this life.

For these and like reasons Alexander and Averroes held that man’s ultimate happiness does not consist in human knowledge obtained through speculative sciences, but in that which results from conjunction with a separate substance, which conjunction they deemed possible to man in this life. But as Aristotle realized that man has no knowledge in this life other than that which he obtains through speculative sciences, he maintained that man does not attain to perfect happiness, but proportionate to his capacity.¹

Hence it becomes sufficiently clear how these great minds suffered from being so straitened on every side. We, however, will avoid these straits if we suppose, in accordance with the foregoing arguments, that man is able to reach perfect happiness after this life, since man has an immortal soul; and that in that state his soul will understand in the same way as separate substances understand, as we proved in the second book.¹

Therefore, man’s ultimate happiness will consist in that knowledge of God which he possesses after this life, a knowledge similar to that by which separate substances know him. Hence our Lord promises us a reward in heaven (Matt 5:12) and states that the saints shall be as the angels (Matt 22:30), who always see God in heaven (Matt 18:10).

That separate substances do not see God in his essence through knowing him by their own essences

We must now inquire whether this same knowledge (by which separate substances and souls after death know God by their own essences) is sufficient for their ultimate happiness.

In order to discover the truth in this matter, we must first of all show that to know God in this way is not to know his essence.

An effect may be known through its cause in several ways. First, when the effect is taken as the means of knowing the existence and qualities of the cause: this happens in sciences which prove the cause from the effect. Second, when the cause is seen in the effect itself, inasmuch as the likeness of the cause is reflected in the effect: thus a man is seen in a mirror on account of his likeness. This way differs from the first, because in the first there are two knowledges, of effect and of cause, one of which is the cause of the other: for the knowledge of the effect is the cause of our knowing its cause. But in the second way there is one sight of both, because while seeing the effect we see the cause in it at the same time. Third, when the very likeness of the cause in the effect is the form by which the cause is known by its effect: for instance, if a box had an intellect, and were to know by its own form the art from which that very form had been produced in likeness to that art. But by none of these ways is it possible to know from its effect what the cause is, unless the effect is equal to the cause, and expresses the whole power of the cause.

Now separate substances know God by their substances in the same way as a cause is known from its effect; not, however, in the first way, because then their knowledge would be discursive; but in the second way, inasmuch as one of them sees God in another; and in the third way, inasmuch as each of them sees God in itself. Yet none of them is an effect equalling God’s power, as we have shown in the second book.¹ Therefore, they cannot see the divine essence by this kind of knowledge.

Besides. The intelligible likeness by which a thing is understood as to its substance must be of the same species—in fact, it must be its species (even as the form of the house, which is in the architect’s mind, is of the same species as the form of the house which exists in matter, or rather it is its species). For we do not understand what an ass is, or what a horse is, through the species of a man. But the nature of a separate substance is not of the same species as the divine nature; indeed, not even of the same genus, as we showed in the first book.¹ Therefore, a separate substance cannot possibly understand God through its own nature.

Further. Every created thing is confined to a certain genus or species. But the divine essence is infinite, comprising within itself the entire perfection of all being, as we proved in the first book.¹ Therefore, the divine substance cannot be seen through anything created.

Further. It was proved in the first book¹ that God’s substance is his being. But the being of a separate substance is distinct from its substance, as we proved in the second book.² Therefore, the essence of a separate substance is not a sufficient medium whereby God may be seen in his essence.

And yet the separate substance, through its own substance, knows about God that he is; and that he is the cause of all things; and that he is above all and far removed from all not only from the things that are, but even from those that can be conceived by the created mind. This knowledge about God we also are able to obtain somewhat, because we know of God that he is from his effects, and that he is the cause of other things, surpassing all and remote from all. And this is the limit and the highest point of our knowledge in this life where, as Dionysius says, we are united to God as to something unknown.¹ This happens when we know of him what he is not, while what he is remains utterly unknown. Hence in order to indicate the ignorance of this most sublime knowledge, it was said of Moses that he drew near to the thick darkness where God was (Exod 20:21).

Since, however, the lower nature in its summit attains only to what is lowest in the higher nature, it follows that this same knowledge is more sublime in separate substances than in us. This can be shown as to each way of attaining to this knowledge. For if the cause be known by its effect, the nearer that effect is, and the clearer its resemblance to its cause, the more evident does it make the existence of that cause. Now separate substances, which know God by themselves, are nearer effects and bear a clearer resemblance to God than the effects through which we know God. Therefore, separate substances know more certainly and more clearly than we that God exists.

Again. Since by negations we come by any way whatever to a proper knowledge of a thing, as stated above,¹ the more things one knows to be removed from God, and the greater their propinquity, the nearer does one approach to a proper knowledge of him. Even so, he who knows that man is neither inanimate nor insensible approaches nearer to a proper knowledge of man than one who knows only that he is not inanimate, although neither of them knows what man is. Now, separate substances know more than we, and the things that are nearer to God; consequently, by their intelligence they remove from God more things and nearer things than we do. Therefore, they approach nearer to a proper knowledge of God than we, although neither do they, through understanding themselves, see the divine substance.

Again. The higher the persons over whom one knows a man to be placed, the better the knowledge one has of his eminence. Thus, although a peasant may know that the king is the highest in the land, yet since he knows only some of the lowest officials of the kingdom, with whom he has business, he does not realize the king’s exalted position as one does who knows the dignity of all the great men of the kingdom, over whom he knows the king to be placed (although neither of them comprehends the height of the kingly rank). Now we know none but the lowest things: consequently, although we know that God is far above all, we do not know the divine supereminence as the separate substances do, to whom the highest orders of things are known, while they know God to be higher than them all.

Again. It is clear that the causality and virtue of a cause are all the better known according as more and greater effects of it are known. Therefore, it evidently follows that separate substances know the divine causality and power better than we, although we know him to be the cause of all.

That the natural desire of the separate substances is not set at rest in the natural knowledge they have of God

Now it is not possible that the separate substance’s natural desire rest in such a knowledge of God.

For whatever is imperfect in a species seeks to acquire the perfection of that species: thus someone who has an opinion about a matter, which is imperfect knowledge about it, is spurred for this very reason to the desire for certain knowledge about it. Now the aforesaid knowledge—which separate substances have about God without knowing his substance—is an imperfect kind of knowledge, for we do not deem ourselves to know a thing if we do not know its substance: so that the chief point in knowing a thing is to know what it is. Therefore, this knowledge which the separate substances have about God does not set their appetite at rest, but spurs it on to the vision of the divine substance.

Again. The knowledge of effects excites desire to know the cause: hence men began to philosophize because they sought the causes of things. Therefore, the desire for knowledge naturally implanted in all intellectual substances does not rest unless, knowing the substance of effects, they know also the substance of their cause. Consequently, since separate substances know that God is the cause of all the things whose substances they see, their natural desire does not rest unless they see God’s substance also.

Besides. As there is a connection between knowing the adequate cause (propter quid) of a thing being so and so, and knowing that it is so (quia est), so is there a connection between knowing about a thing what it is (quid est), and knowing that it exists (an est). If we know the adequate cause of a thing being so and so, we can prove that it is so (for instance, that the moon undergoes eclipse). Even so, if we know what a thing is, we can prove that it exists. Such is the teaching in 2 Posterior Analytics.¹ Now we observe that those who know that a thing is so and so naturally seek to know the adequate cause of its being so. Therefore, those who know that a thing exists naturally seek to know what it is; and this is to know its essence. Therefore, the natural desire for knowledge is not set at rest by the knowledge of God whereby it is known that he exists.

Further. Nothing finite can set the intellect’s desire at rest. This is proved from the fact that the intellect, given any finite object, strives to go beyond it. Thus, given a finite line of any length, it strives to apprehend a longer, and it is the same in numbers (and this is the reason why we can add indefinitely to numbers and mathematical lines). Now the excellence and power of any created substance is finite. Therefore, the intellect of a separate substance is not satisfied with knowing separate substances, however excellent they be, but still tends by its natural desire to understand the substance which is of infinite excellence, as we proved in the first book¹ concerning the divine substance.

Besides. The nearer a thing is to its end, the greater the desire with which it tends to that end: hence we may notice that the natural movement of bodies is increased towards the end. Now the intellect of separate substances is nearer to the knowledge of God than ours: consequently, they desire to know God more intensely than we do. And however much we know that God is, and other things mentioned above,¹ we still go on desiring, and seek to know him in his essence. Much more, therefore, do separate substances desire this naturally: consequently, their natural desire is not satisfied with the above-mentioned knowledge of God.

Hence we conclude that the ultimate happiness of a separate substance does not consist in the knowledge whereby it knows God by its own substance, since its desire still leads it on to the substance of God.

It also clearly follows from this that ultimate happiness is to be sought nowhere else but in an operation of the intellect, since no desire leads us so high as the desire of knowing the truth. For all our desires, whether of pleasure or of anything else that man wants, can be satisfied with other things, but the aforesaid desire rests not until it has reached God, the supreme cause and maker of all. Hence wisdom rightly says: I dwelt in high places, and my throne was in a pillar of cloud (Sir 24:4): and it is said that wisdom by her maids invites to the tower (Prov 9:3). They should blush, then, who seek man’s happiness in the lowest things, whereas it is placed on such a height.

How God may be seen in his essence

Since, then, it is impossible for a natural desire to be void—and it would be were it impossible to arrive at understanding the divine substance, for all minds desire this naturally—we must conclude that it is possible for the divine substance to be seen by means of the intellect, both by separate intellectual substances and by our souls.

It is sufficiently clear from what has been said what manner of vision this is. For we have proved¹ that the divine substance cannot be seen by the intellect in any created species. Therefore, if God’s essence be seen at all, it must be that the intellect sees it in the divine essence itself, so that in that vision the divine essence is both the object and the medium of vision.

Since, however, the intellect is unable to understand any particular substance unless it be actuated by some species informing it which is the image of the thing understood, someone might deem it impossible for a created intellect to see the very substance of God in the divine essence as an intelligible species, inasmuch as the divine essence is self-subsistent, and we have proved in the first book¹ that God cannot be the form of anything.

In order to understand this truth, we must note that a self-subsisting substance is either a form alone, or is composed of matter and form. Accordingly, that which is composed of matter and form cannot be the form of something else, because the form in it is already confined to that matter, so that it cannot be the form of another thing. But that which subsists so as nevertheless to be a form alone can be the form of something else, provided its being be such that some other thing can participate in it, as we have proved concerning the human soul in the second book.¹ If, however, its being cannot be participated in by another, it cannot be the form of anything, because by its very being it is determined in itself, as material things are by their matter.

Now we must consider this as being the case not only with regard to substantial or natural being, but also as regards intelligible being. For, since truth is the perfection of the intellect, that intelligible which is truth itself will be a pure form in the genus of intelligible things. This applies solely to God: for, since truth is consequent upon being, that alone is its own truth which is its own being, and this belongs to God alone, as we proved in the second book.¹ Consequently, other subsistent intelligibles are not pure forms in the genus of intelligible things, but have a form in a subject: for each of them is a true thing, but not the truth, even as it is a being, but not being itself.

It is therefore clear that the divine essence can be compared to the created intellect as an intelligible species by which it understands, which cannot be said of the essence of any separate substance. And yet it cannot be the form of another thing as to its natural being: for it would follow that, being united to this other, it would constitute one nature; which is impossible, since the divine essence is perfect in itself in its own nature. Whereas the intelligible species in its union with the intellect does not constitute a nature, but perfects the intellect to the effect of understanding: and this is not inconsistent with the perfection of the divine essence.

This immediate vision of God is promised to us in Sacred Scripture: Now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face (1 Cor 13:12). It would be impious to understand this in a material way, and imagine a material face in the divinity, since we have proved¹ that God has no body. Nor is it possible for us to see God with a bodily face since the eyes of the body, which are situate in the face, can only see bodily things. Thus then shall we see God face to face, because we shall see him immediately, even as a man whom we see face to face.

It is according to this vision that we become most like unto God, and participators of his bliss, since God understands his substance by his essence, and this is his bliss. Hence it is said: When he appears we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is (1 John 3:2). And our Lord said: As my Father appointed a table¹ for me, so do I appoint for you that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom (Luke 22:29–30). Now these words cannot be understood as referring to the food and drink of the body, but to that which is taken from the table of wisdom, of which wisdom says: Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed (Prov 9:5). Accordingly, to eat and drink at God’s table is to enjoy the same bliss as that which makes God happy, and to see God as he sees himself.

That no created substance can by its natural power arrive at seeing God in his essence

However, it is not possible for any created substance to attain to this way of seeing God by its own power.

For that which is proper to the higher nature cannot be acquired by a lower nature, except through the action of the higher nature to whom it properly belongs: thus water cannot become hot except through the action of heat. Now to see God in his essence is proper to the divine nature, since to operate through its own form is proper to the operator. Therefore, no intellectual substance can see God in the divine essence, unless God himself bring this about.

Again. A form proper to one thing does not become another’s except through the first’s agency, because an agent produces its like by communicating its form to another. Now it is impossible to see the divine substance unless the divine substance itself become the form by which the intellect understands, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, no created substance can attain to that vision except through the divine agency.

Besides. If any two things have to be united together so that one be formal and the other material, their union must be completed by an action on the part of the one that is formal, and not by the action of the one that is material, because the form is the principle of action, whereas matter is the passive principle. Now in order that the created intellect see God’s substance, the divine essence itself must be united to the intellect as an intelligible form, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, no created intellect can attain to this vision except through the divine agency.

Further. What is so of itself is the cause of what is so through another.¹ Now the divine intelligence sees of itself the divine substance: for the divine intelligence is the divine essence, in which God’s substance is seen, as we proved in the first book:² whereas the created intellect sees the divine substance in the divine essence as in something other than itself. Therefore, this vision cannot be acquired by the created intellect except through the action of God.

Hence it is said: The grace of God is life everlasting (Rom 6:23). For we have proved¹ that man’s happiness consists in seeing God, which is called life everlasting: and we are said to obtain this by God’s grace alone, because that vision surpasses the faculty of every creature, and it is impossible to attain thereto except by God’s gift; and when such things are obtained by a creature, it is put down to God’s grace. Again, our Lord says: I will manifest myself to him (John 14:21).

That the created intellect needs a ray of the divine light in order to see God in his essence

To so sublime a vision the created intellect needs to be raised by some kind of outpouring of the divine goodness.

For it is impossible that the proper form of anything become the form of another, unless this other bear some resemblance to the thing to which that form properly belongs: thus light does not actuate a body which has nothing in common with the diaphanous. Now the divine essence is the proper intelligible form of the divine intellect, and is proportionate to it: for these three (understanding, medium of understanding, and object understood) are one in God. Therefore, that same essence cannot become the intelligible form of a created intellect, except through the created intellect participating in some divine likeness. Therefore, this participation in a divine likeness is necessary in order that the divine substance be seen.

Again. Nothing can receive a higher form unless it be disposed thereto through its capacity being raised, because every act is in its proper power. Now the divine essence is a higher form than any created intellect. Therefore, in order that the divine essence become the intelligible species to a created intellect, which is requisite in order that the divine substance be seen, the created intellect needs to be raised for that purpose by some sublime disposition.

Besides. If two things from not being united become united, this must be either through both being changed, or one only. Now if we suppose that some created intellect begin to see the divine essence, it follows from what we have said¹ that the divine essence is united to that intellect as an intelligible species. But it is impossible that the divine essence be changed, as we have proved.² Therefore, this union must begin through a change in the created intellect. And this change can only consist in the created intellect acquiring some new disposition.

The same conclusion follows if we suppose some created intellect to be endowed from the outset of its creation with such a vision. For if, as we have proved,¹ this vision exceeds the faculty of nature, it is possible to conceive any created intellect as complete in its natural species without its seeing God’s substance. Consequently, whether it see God from the beginning, or begin to see him afterwards, its nature needs something to be added to it.

Further. Nothing can be raised to a higher operation except through its power being strengthened. Now a power may be increased in two ways. First, by a mere intensifying of the power: thus the active power of a hot subject is increased by the intensity of the heat, so that it is capable of a more vehement action in the same species. Second, by the addition of a new form: thus the power of a diaphanous body is increased so that it can give light through its being made actually lightsome by receiving the form of light anew. This increase of power is necessary in order that there result an operation of another species. Now the natural power of the created intellect is not sufficient for the vision of the divine substance, as we have shown.¹ Therefore, its power needs to be increased, in order that it attain to that vision. But increase through intensification of the natural power is insufficient because that vision is not of the same kind as the natural vision of the created intellect, which is clear from the distance of the things seen. Therefore, there must be an increase of the intellective power through its receiving a new disposition.

Now, owing to the fact that we derive our knowledge of intelligible beings from sensible things, we transfer the terms employed in sensual knowledge to our intellectual knowledge—especially those that appertain to the sight, which of all the senses is the highest and most spiritual, and therefore most akin to the intellect. And for this reason intellectual knowledge is called sight. And because bodily sight is not effected without light, those things which serve for the perfection of intellectual vision are called light: therefore, Aristotle¹ compares the active intellect to light because the active intellect makes things actually intelligible, even as light somewhat makes things to be actually visible. Accordingly, the disposition whereby the created intellect is raised to the intellectual vision of the divine substance is rightly called the light of glory: not that it makes the object actually intelligible, as the light of the active intellect does, but because it makes the intellect able actually to understand.

This is the light of which it is said: In your light we will see light (Ps 36:9[35:10]), namely, the light of the divine substance. Again it is said: The city, namely of the blessed, has no need of sun or moon to shine upon it, for the glory of God is its light (Rev 22:5).¹ Again it is said: The sun shall be no more your light by day, nor for brightness shall the moon give light to you by night; but the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory (Isa 60:19). For this reason too, since in God to be is the same as to understand, and because he is to all the cause of their understanding, he is said to be the light: The true light that enlightens every man was coming into the world (John 1:9); and: God is light (1 John 1:5); and: You cover yourself with light as with a garment (Ps 104[103]:2). For this reason too, both God and the angels are described in Sacred Scripture in figures of fire, on account of the brilliance of fire.²

Arguments that would seem to prove that God cannot be seen in his essence, and their solution

Someone will object against the foregoing.

No additional light can help the sight to see things that surpass the natural faculty of corporeal sight, since the sight can see only colored objects. Now the divine substance surpasses the whole faculty of a created intellect, more even than intelligence surpasses the senses’ capacity. Therefore, no additional light can raise the created intellect to see the divine substance.

Besides. If the aforesaid light can do this for the reason that it is an image of the divine substance (since every intellectual substance, for the very reason that it is intellectual, bears a likeness to God), the nature itself of an intellectual substance will suffice for it to see God.

Further. If this light is created, since there is no reason why that which is created should not be connatural to some creature, there might possibly be a creature that would see the divine substance through its connatural light. But the contrary of this has been proved.¹

Moreover. The infinite, as such, is unknown.¹ Now we proved in the first book² that God is infinite. Therefore, the divine substance cannot be seen through the light in question.

Furthermore. There should be proportion between the understanding and the thing understood. But there is no proportion between the created intellect, even perfected by this light, and the divine substance: for there still remains an infinite distance between them. Therefore, the created intellect cannot be helped by any light to see the divine substance.

By these and like arguments some have been induced to maintain that the divine substance is never seen by a created intellect. This opinion both would destroy the rational creature’s true happiness, which can consist in nothing but the vision of the divine substance, as we have proved,¹ and is contrary to the authority of Sacred Scripture, as appears from what we have said.² Hence it should be rejected as false and heretical.

It is not difficult, however, to answer the above arguments. For the divine substance is not so outside the range of the created intellect as to be absolutely beyond its reach, as sound is to the sight, or an immaterial substance to the senses. For the divine substance is the first intelligible, and the principle of all intellectual knowledge, yet it is outside the range of the created intellect as exceeding its power, just as the highest sensibles are outside the range of the senses. Hence the Philosopher says that our intellect stands in relation to the most evident things as the owl’s eye does in relation to the sun.¹ Therefore, the created intellect needs to be strengthened by some divine light in order to be able to see the divine substance. This solves the first argument.

Moreover, this light raises the created intellect to the vision of God not on account of its affinity to the divine substance, but on account of the power which it receives from God to produce such an effect, although in its being it is infinitely distant from God, as the second argument stated. For this light unites the created intellect to God not in being, but only in understanding.

Since, however, it belongs to God himself to understand his substance perfectly, the light in question is a likeness of God in this that it perfects the intellect for seeing the divine substance. Now no intellectual substance can be like God in this way. For, since no created substance’s simplicity is equal to the divine simplicity, it is impossible for the created substance to have its entire perfection in one subject: for this is proper to God, as we proved in the first book,¹ who is being, understanding and blessed in respect of the same. Consequently, in the intellectual substance the created light through which it is raised to the beatific vision of God differs from any light whereby it is perfected in its specific nature, and understands proportionately to its substance. Hence the reply to the third argument is clear.

The fourth argument is solved thus. The vision of the divine substance surpasses all natural power, as was shown.¹ Consequently, the light whereby the created intellect is perfected in order to see the divine substance must be supernatural.

Nor can the fact that God is infinite be an obstacle to the vision of the divine substance, as the fifth objection argued. For he is not said to be infinite by way of privation, as quantity, and the infinite of this kind is reasonably unknown, because it is like matter devoid of form which is the principle of knowledge. But he is said to be infinite negatively, as an essentially subsistent form that is not limited by being received into matter. Therefore, that which is infinite in this way is in itself most knowable.

There is indeed proportion between the created intellect and understanding God: a proportion not of measure, but of aptitude, such as of matter for form, or cause for effect. In this way there is no reason against there being in the creature a proportion to God, consisting in the aptitude of an intelligent being for an intelligible object, as well as of effect in respect of its cause. From which the solution of the sixth objection is clear.

That the created intellect does not comprehend the divine substance

The mode of any action whatever depends on the efficacity of its active principle—for that which has the stronger heat imparts greater heat. Consequently, the mode of knowledge also must depend on the efficiency of the principle of knowledge.

Now the light mentioned above¹ is a principle of knowing God, since thereby the created intellect is raised to the vision of the divine substance. Accordingly, the mode of the divine vision must be commensurate with the power of this same light. But this light is far short in strength of the clarity of the divine intelligence. Therefore, it is impossible that the divine substance be seen in the aforesaid light as perfectly as it is seen by the divine intellect. Now the divine intellect sees this substance as perfectly as it is perfectly visible, because the truth of the divine substance, and the clarity of the divine intellect are equal—nay more, they are one. Therefore, the created intellect cannot possibly by the aforesaid light see the divine substance as perfectly as it is perfectly visible. Now whoever knows a thing so as to comprehend it knows it as perfectly as it is knowable. Thus whoever knows that a triangle has three angles equal to two right angles, as a matter of opinion based on probable reasons, because wise men say so, does not yet comprehend it; but only he who knows it as a scientific conclusion through the medium that causes that conclusion. Therefore, the created intellect cannot possibly comprehend the divine substance.

Again. A finite power cannot in its operation rise to the level of an infinite object. Now the divine substance is something infinite in comparison with every created intellect, since every created intellect is confined to a certain species. Therefore, the vision of a created intellect cannot possibly rise to the level of the divine substance in seeing it, namely, in seeing the divine substance as perfectly as it is visible. Therefore, no created intellect comprehends it.

Further. Every agent acts perfectly so far as it perfectly participates in the form that is the principle of action. Now the intelligible form by which the divine substance is seen is the divine essence itself: and although it becomes the intelligible form of the created intellect, the created intellect does not grasp it as much as it can be grasped. Therefore, it does not see it as perfectly as it can be seen. Therefore, it is not comprehended by the created intellect.

Besides. Nothing comprehended goes beyond the limits of the comprehender. Consequently, if the created intellect were to comprehend the divine substance, this would not exceed the limits of the created intellect: which is impossible. Therefore, the created intellect cannot possibly comprehend the divine substance.

We do not, however, say that the divine substance is seen yet not comprehended by a created intellect, as though something of it were seen and something not seen, since the divine substance is utterly simple: but because it is not seen as perfectly by the created intellect as it is visible, even as one who holds a demonstrated conclusion as an opinion is said to know it but not to comprehend it, because he does not know it perfectly—that is, scientifically—although there be no part of it that he knows not.

That no created intellect, in seeing God, sees all that can be seen in him

Hence it is clear that though the created intellect may see the divine substance, it knows not all that can be seen in the divine substance.

For then alone does it necessarily follow that if one principle be known, all its effects are known in it, when that principle is comprehended by the intellect, because a principle is known as to its whole power when all its effects are known from it. Now other things are known from the divine essence, as effects are known from their cause. Consequently, since the created intellect cannot know the divine substance so as to comprehend it, it does not follow that because it sees it, it sees also all that can be known in it.

Again. The higher the intellect, the more it knows—either a greater number of things, or at least more about the same things. Now the divine intellect surpasses every created intellect: consequently, it knows more things than any created intellect. Yet it does not know things except through knowing its own essence, as we proved in the first book.¹ Therefore, more things are knowable in the divine essence than any created intellect can see in them.

Besides. The measure of a power is according to what it can do. Consequently, to know all that a power can do is the same as to comprehend that power. But, since the divine power is infinite, no created intellect can comprehend it any more than it can comprehend its essence, as we proved above.¹ Neither, therefore, can a created intellect know all that the divine power can do. Yet all the things that the divine power can do are knowable in the divine essence, because God knows them all, and not otherwise than in his essence. Therefore, a created intellect does not see all that can be seen in the divine substance by seeing the divine essence.

Moreover. No cognitive power knows a thing except under the aspect of its proper object: thus by sight we do not know a thing except as colored. Now the proper object of the intellect is what a thing is (that is, the essence of a thing), as stated in 3 De Anima.¹ Consequently, whatever the intellect knows of a thing, it knows it through the knowledge of its essence, so that whenever by demonstration we become acquainted with the proper accidents of a thing, we take what that thing is as principle, as stated in 1 Posterior Analytics.² On the other hand, if the intellect knows the essence from its accidents, according to the statement in 1 De Anima, that accidents are a great help in knowing what a thing is,³ this is accidental insofar as the knowledge of the intellect arises from the senses, and so by knowing the accidents as perceived by the senses we need to arrive at knowing the substance. For this reason this does not occur in mathematics, but only in physics. Consequently, whatever cannot be known in a thing by knowing its substance must be unknown to the intellect.

Now by knowing the substance of one who wills, we cannot arrive at knowing what he wills, because the will does not tend altogether naturally to that which it wills; for which reason the will and nature are said to be two active principles. Therefore, the intellect cannot know what a person wills, except that it may do so from certain effects: thus if we see a person working willingly, we know what he willed. Or again from a cause: thus God knows what we will, as also other of his effects, in that he is the cause of our willing. Or again by someone insinuating his will to another, as when by speaking he makes known his likes and dislikes. Since, then, many things depend on God’s simple will (as we have partly shown above,¹ and will show yet more clearly further on),² although the created intellect may see the divine essence, it does not know all the things that God sees in his essence.

Someone may object to what has been said that God’s substance is something greater than all the things he can do, or understand, or will, except himself, and hence if the created intellect can see God’s substance, much more can it know all that God either understands, or wills, or can do, except himself.

But, if we consider carefully, to know a thing in itself is not the same as to know it in its cause, since there are things which are easy to know in themselves, but not easy to know in their causes. It is true, then, that to know God in himself is more than to know anything else besides him, if this can be known in itself. But it belongs to a more perfect knowledge to know the divine substance and to see its effects in it than to know the divine substance without seeing its effects in it. And it is possible to see the divine substance without comprehending it. But it is not possible to know all that can be known in that substance without comprehending it, as we have proved.

That every intellect of any degree can participate in the divine vision

Since, as we have proved,¹ the created intellect is raised by a kind of supernatural light to the vision of the divine substance, there is no created intellect with a nature of so low a degree that cannot be raised to this vision.

For we have proved¹ that this light cannot be connatural to any creature, but surpasses every created nature in its power. Now that which is done by a supernatural power is not hindered by any diversity of nature, since the divine power is infinite; so that in the miraculous healing of a sick man, it matters not whether he ails much or little. Consequently, the difference of degrees in the intellectual nature does not prevent the lowest in that nature from being raised by the aforesaid light to that vision.

Again. The highest intellect in the order of nature is infinitely distant from God in perfection and goodness, but its distance from the lowest intellect is finite: for there cannot be an infinite distance between one finite thing and another. Consequently, the distance between the lowest created intellect and the highest is as nothing in comparison with the distance between the highest created intellect and God. Now that which is as nothing cannot cause an appreciable variation: thus the distance between the center of the earth and the human eye is as nothing in comparison with the distance between the human eye and the eighth sphere, compared with which the earth occupies the space of a mere point. For which reason no appreciable variation arises from astronomers considering the human eye as the center of the earth in their demonstrations. It makes no difference, therefore, what intellect be raised by the aforesaid light to the vision of God, whether it be of the highest, or of the lowest, or of a middle degree.

Besides. It was proved above¹ that every intellect desires naturally to see the divine substance. Now the natural desire cannot be void. Therefore, every created intellect can arrive at the vision of the divine substance, the lowliness of its nature being no obstacle.

Hence it is that our Lord promises men the glory of the angels: They shall be, he says, speaking of men, like the angels of God in heaven (Matt 22:30). And it is stated that the measure of a man is that of an angel (Rev 21:17). For this reason nearly everywhere in Sacred Scripture angels are described in the form of men, either wholly, as the angels who appeared to Abraham in the likeness of men (Gen 18:2), or in part, as may be seen in the animals of which it is said that under their wings on their four sides they had human hands (Ezek 1:8).

Hereby we refute the error of those who said that however much the human soul be raised, it cannot attain to an equality with the higher intellects.

That it is possible for one to see God more perfectly than another

But because the mode of operation results from the form that is the principle of operation, and the aforesaid light is a principle of the vision whereby the created intellect sees the divine substance, as we have proved,¹ it follows that the mode of the divine vision is in keeping with the mode of this light. Now it is possible that there be various degrees of participation of this light, so that one receives more light than another. Therefore, it is possible that of those who see God, one may see him more perfectly than another, though both see his substance.

Again. In whatever genus there is one thing higher than the others, we shall find degrees according as these others approach more or less to that thing: thus things are more or less cold according as they approach to fire which is supremely hot. Now God sees his own substance most perfectly, inasmuch as he alone comprehends it, as we have proved above.¹ Therefore, of those who see him one sees his substance more perfectly than another, according to their greater or lesser approach to him.

Besides. The light of glory raises one to the divine vision for the reason that it is a likeness of the divine intellect, as we have stated.¹ Now a thing may be more or less like to God. Therefore, it is possible for one to see the divine substance more or less perfectly.

Further. Since there is proportion between the end and things directed to the end, it follows that things directed differently to an end participate in that end differently. Now vision of the divine substance is the last end of every intellectual substance, as we have shown.¹ And intellectual substances are not all equally prepared for that end: for some are more virtuous, some less, and virtue is the way to happiness.² Consequently, there must be diversity in the divine vision, in that some see the divine substance more perfectly, some less perfectly.

Hence in order to indicate this difference of happiness, our Lord says: In my Father’s house are many rooms (John 14:2).

Hereby too is excluded the error of those who said that all rewards are equal.

Again, just as the mode of vision indicates a diversity of degrees among the blessed, so the object of the vision shows that their glory is the same: for each one’s happiness consists in his seeing God’s substance, as we have proved. The same thing, then, makes them all happy, but they do not all derive an equal happiness from it.

Hence it does not stand in the way of what has been said that in Matthew 20:10, our Lord declares that the laborers in the vineyard received the same wage (namely, a penny), although they worked not equally, because the same thing is appointed as a reward to be seen and enjoyed (namely, God).

In which it must also be observed that corporal and spiritual movements are somewhat contrary to each other. For all corporal movements have the identically same first subject, but their ends are diverse, whereas spiritual movements (namely, intellectual apprehensions and acts of the will) have various first subjects, but one identical end.

How those who see the divine substance see all things

Now insofar as the vision of the divine substance is the last end of every intellectual substance, as we have proved,¹ and since the appetite of everything that has obtained its last end is at rest, it follows that the natural appetite of the intellectual substance that sees the divine substance must be entirely at rest. Now the natural desire of the intellect is to know all the genera, species and powers of things, and the whole order of the universe, as is evident from the fact that man makes a study of all these things. Therefore, everyone that sees the divine substance knows all the things mentioned above.

Again. Intellect and sense differ, as is clear from 3 De Anima,¹ in that sense is destroyed or weakened by powerful sensibles, so that afterwards it cannot perceive weaker objects, but the intellect is not less but more able to understand other intelligibles after it has understood a higher intelligible, through not being destroyed or weakened by its object, but only perfected by it. Now the highest in the genus of intelligibles is the divine substance. Consequently, the intellect which, by the divine light, is raised to see the substance of God is all the more perfected by the same light so as to see all other intelligibles in the universe.

Besides. Intelligible being is not of less, but may be of greater extent than physical being: for the intellect is naturally adapted to understand all the things in the universe, as well as things that have no physical being, such as negations and privations. Consequently, anything required for the perfection of physical being—or even more than that—is required for the perfection of intelligible being. Now the perfection of intelligible being is when the intellect has reached its last end, even as the perfection of physical being consists in the very making of a thing. Therefore, God makes known to the intellect which sees him all the things that he has made for the perfection of the universe.

Moreover. Although of those who see God one sees him more perfectly than another, as we have shown,¹ yet each one sees him so perfectly that all his natural capacity is filled: indeed, the vision itself surpasses all natural capacity, as was proved above.² Therefore, everyone that sees the divine substance must know in the divine substance all the things to which his natural capacity extends. Now the natural capacity of every intellect extends to the knowledge of all general species, and the order of things. Therefore, every one that sees God will know these things in the divine substance.

Therefore, the Lord answered Moses’ request to see the divine substance: I will make all goodness pass before you (Exod 33:19); and Gregory says: What know they not who know him that knows all?¹

If we consider carefully the foregoing, it is clear that those who see the divine substance in one sense see all things, and in another sense, do not. For if by ‘all’ we understand those things that belong to the perfection of the universe, it is evident from what has been said that those who see God see all things, as the arguments just adduced prove. For as the intellect is, in a sense, all things, whatever belongs to the perfection of nature belongs also to the perfection of intelligible being. Hence according to Augustine,¹ all things made by the Word of God to subsist in their respective natures were made likewise in the angelic intelligence to be understood by the angels. Now, to the perfection of natural being belong specific natures, and their properties and forces, because the intention of nature is directed to the specific natures, since individuals are for the sake of the species. Consequently, it belongs to the perfection of an intellectual substance to know the nature, forces and proper accidents of every species: and therefore it will obtain this through the vision of the divine essence. Moreover, through its knowledge of natural species the individuals contained in these species are also known by the intellect that sees God, as may be gathered from what has been already said of the divine and angelic knowledge.²

On the other hand, if by ‘all’ we understand all that God knows by seeing his essence, no created intellect sees all things in the divine substance, as we have shown.¹

This may be considered in respect of several things. First, as to those things which God can make, but neither has made nor ever will make. For all such things cannot be known without comprehending his power, which is impossible for any created intellect, as we have proved.¹ Hence it is said: Can you find out the deep things of God? Can you find out the limit of the Almighty? It is higher than heaven—what can you do? Deeper than Hell—what can you know? Its measure is longer than the earth, and broader than the sea (Job 11:7–9). For these things are said not as though God were great in dimensive quantity, but because his power is not limited to all that seems great, so that he be unable to make greater still.

Second, as to the reasons of things made: which reasons cannot all be known by an intellect without its comprehending the divine goodness. Because the reason for every thing made is taken from the end which the maker has in view. Now the end of all things made by God is the divine goodness; therefore, the reason for things made is that the divine goodness may be spread abroad in things. So thus a man would know all the reasons of created things if he knew every good that can accrue to things according to the order of divine wisdom, and this would be to comprehend the divine goodness and wisdom, which is impossible to any created intellect. This is what is said: Man cannot find out all the work of God (Eccl 8:17).

Third, as to those things which depend on God’s will alone, such as predestination, election and justification, and whatever belongs to the creature’s sanctification. Hence it is said: What person knows a man’s thoughts except the spirit of the man which is in him? So also no one comprehends the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God (1 Cor 2:11).

That those who see God see all in him at once

But because we have shown¹ that the created intellect which sees the divine substance sees in it all the species of things, and since whatever is seen in one species must be seen at once and by one vision (because vision must correspond to the principle of vision), it follows that the intellect which sees the divine substance sees all not successively, but at once.

Again. The supreme and perfect happiness of the intellectual nature consists in seeing God, as proved above.¹ Now happiness results not from a habit but from an act, since it is the ultimate perfection and last end. Consequently, whatever we see in the beatific vision of the divine substance is all seen by us actually, and therefore not one thing after another.

Besides. Whenever a thing arrives at its last end, it is at rest, since all movement is to the attainment of an end. Now the last end of the intellect is the vision of the divine substance, as shown above.¹ Therefore, the intellect that sees the divine substance does not pass from one intelligible thing to another. Therefore, whatsoever it knows in this vision, it considers it all actually.

Moreover. In the divine substance the intellect knows all the species of things, as we have proved.¹ Now of some genera there are an infinite number of species (for instance, of numbers, figures and proportions). Therefore, the intellect sees an infinite number of things in the divine substance. But it would not see them all unless it saw them at one time, because it is not possible to pass through the infinite.² Consequently, the intellect sees all that it sees in the divine substance at once.

Hence Augustine says: Our thoughts will not then be unstable, going to and fro from one thing to another: but we shall see all we know by one glance.¹

That by seeing God a man is made a partaker of eternal life

It follows from this that by the aforesaid vision the created intellect is made a partaker of eternal life.

For eternity differs from time in that the latter has its being in a kind of succession, whereas the former is all simultaneously.¹ Now it has already been proved² that there is no succession in the vision in question, and that whatsoever is seen in it is seen at once and at a glance. Therefore, this vision takes place in a kind of participation of eternity. Moreover, this vision is a kind of life, because the act of the intellect is life.³ Therefore, by that vision, the created intellect becomes a partaker of eternal life.

Again. Actions take their species from their objects. Now the object of the aforesaid vision is the divine substance in its very being, and not in some created image, as we have shown.¹ Now the being of the divine substance is in eternity, or rather is eternity itself. Therefore, the aforesaid vision consists in a participation of eternity.

Besides. If an action takes place in time, this is either because the principle of the action is in time—for instance, the actions of natural things are temporal—or on account of the term of the action—for instance, the actions which spiritual substances, who are above time, exercise on things subject to time. Now the vision in question is not subject to time on the part of the thing seen, since this is an eternal substance; nor on the part of the medium of vision, which is also the eternal substance; nor on the part of the seer (namely, the intellect), whose being is independent of time, because it is incorruptible, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, this vision is according to a participation of eternity, as altogether transcending time.

Further. The intellective soul is created on the border line between eternity and time (as stated in De Causis, and explained above),¹ because it is the last in order among intellects, and yet its substance stands above corporal matter, and is independent of it. On the other hand, its action in respect of which it comes into conjunction with lower and temporal things is itself temporal. Consequently, its action by reason of which it comes into conjunction with higher things that are above time partakes of eternity. Especially does this apply to the vision in which it sees the divine substance. Therefore, by this vision it enters into a participation of eternity, and for the same reason, so too does any other created intellect that sees God.

For this reason our Lord says: This is eternal life, that they know thee the only true God (John 17:3).

That those who see God will see him forever

It follows from what has been said that those who obtain ultimate happiness from the divine vision never fall away from it.

Because whatever at one time is, and at another time is not, is measured by time, as stated in 4 Physics.¹ Now the vision in question that makes intellectual creatures happy is not in time, but in eternity.² Therefore, no one can lose it, having once become a partaker of it.

Again. The intellectual creature does not arrive at its last end except when its natural desire is at rest. Now just as it naturally desires happiness, so does it desire perpetuity of happiness, because as it is perpetual in its substance, that which it desires for its own sake and not on account of something else, it desires to have always. Consequently, happiness would not be its last end unless it endured forever.

Besides. Whatever is possessed with love causes sorrow if it be known that at length it will be lost. Now, since the vision in question which makes the possessor happy is supremely enjoyable and desirable, it is supremely loved by those who possess it. Therefore, they could not but be sorrowful if they knew that they would lose it some time. But if it were not perpetual, they would know this, for it has been shown¹ that in seeing the divine substance, they know also other things that naturally are. Hence much more do they know the conditions of that vision, whether it be perpetual or about to cease eventually. Therefore, they would not possess that vision without sorrow. Consequently, it would not be true happiness, which should insure from all evil, as we have proved.²

Moreover. That which is moved towards a thing as the end of its movement, is not moved away from it except by violence; as a heavy body, when it is projected upwards. Now it is clear from what has been said¹ that every intellectual substance tends to that vision with a natural desire. Therefore, it cannot fall away from it except by violence. But nothing is taken away by violence unless the might of him who takes it exceed that of him who caused it. Now the cause of the divine vision is God, as we proved.² Consequently, as no might exceeds God’s, it is impossible for that vision to be taken away by violence. Therefore, it will last forever.

Further. If a man cease to see what he saw hitherto, this will be either because he loses the faculty of sight—as when a man dies or becomes blind, or is hindered in some other way —or because he wishes no longer to see—as when we turn our eyes away from a thing we saw before—or because the object is withdrawn. And this is invariably true, whether we speak of sensitive or of intellective vision. Now the intellectual substance that sees God cannot lose the faculty of seeing God; neither through ceasing to exist, since it is immortal, as we proved above;¹ nor through failure of the light by which it sees God, since that light is received incorruptibly, on the part both of the recipient and of the giver. Nor can it lack the will to enjoy that vision, for it knows its ultimate happiness to consist in that vision: even as it cannot but desire to be happy. Nor will it cease to see through the withdrawal of the object, because that object which is God is unchangeable, nor does he withdraw himself more than we withdraw from him. Therefore, it is impossible for this beatific vision of God ever to cease.

Moreover. The reason why we become weary of what we enjoyed hitherto is that it causes some kind of change, by destroying or diminishing one’s power. Hence fatigue is incidental to the exercise of the sensitive powers through the action of the sensible objects on the bodily organ—in fact, the power may be altogether destroyed by too powerful an object—and after a time they are loth to enjoy that which hitherto had been a pleasant sensation. For the same reason we become weary in mind after long or concentrated thought, because powers that employ organs of the body are subject to fatigue, and in this life it is not possible to give the mind to thought without employing those organs. Now the divine substance does not corrupt but perfects the intellect more than anything. Nor does any action performed by a corporeal organ concur in the vision of him. Therefore, it is impossible for anyone to be weary of seeing him when they have once enjoyed the sight of him.

Further. Nothing can be wearisome that is wonderful to him that looks on it, because as long as we wonder at it, it still moves our desire. Now the created intellect always looks with wonder on the divine substance, since no created intellect can comprehend it. Therefore, the intellectual substance cannot possibly become weary of that vision: consequently, it cannot of its own choice desist from it.

Besides. If two things were united before, and afterwards become separated, this must be the result of a change in one of them, because just as a relationship does not begin except through a change in one of the relatives, so does it not cease except through a fresh change in one of them. Now the created intellect sees God through being, in some way, united to him, as proved above.¹ Consequently, if that vision ceases through the cessation of that union, this must result from a change either in the divine substance or in the intellect of the one who sees it. But neither of these is possible, since the divine substance is unchangeable, as we proved in the first book,² and the intellectual substance is raised above all changes when it sees the divine substance. Therefore, it is impossible to lapse from the happiness of seeing God.

Furthermore. The nearer a thing is to God, who is utterly unchangeable, the less changeable and the more enduring is it: so that certain bodies, through being far distant from God, cannot last forever, as stated in 2 De Generatione.¹ But no creature can come nearer to God than one who sees his substance. Therefore, the intellectual creature that sees the divine substance, becomes, in a very high degree, unchangeable. Therefore, it can never fall away from that vision.

Hence it is said: Blessed are those who dwell in thy house, ever singing thy praise (Ps 84:4[83:5]); and elsewhere: He shall not be moved forever that dwells in Jerusalem (Ps 125[124]:1). Also: Your eyes will see Jerusalem, a quiet habitation, an immovable tent, whose stakes will never be plucked up, nor will any of its cords be broken, because only there our Lord is magnificent (Isa 33:21); and: He who conquers, I will make him a pillar in the temple of my God; never shall he go out of it (Rev 3:12).

Hereby we refute the error of the Platonists who said that souls, after being separated from the body and obtaining ultimate happiness, begin to desire reunion with the body, and that when the happiness of that life is ended, they are plunged once more into this life of unhappiness. We also refute that of Origen, who maintained that souls and angels can return from bliss to unhappiness.

How in that ultimate happiness man’s every desire is fulfilled

It is evident from what has been said that man’s every desire is fulfilled in this happy state which results from the divine vision, who satisfies your desire with good things (Ps 103[102]:5), and his every end achieved. This is clear to anyone who considers man’s various desires in kind.

There is a desire in man, as an intellectual being, to know the truth; men pursue this desire by the study of the contemplative life. And this will be most clearly fulfilled in that vision, when the intellect will know all that it naturally desires to know by gazing on the first truth, as we have proved above.¹

There is also a desire in man as a rational being capable of regulating things beneath him; he pursues this desire in the occupations of the active and civic life. The chief object of this desire is that man’s entire life be regulated in accord with reason, so that he may live according to virtue, because the end of every virtuous man in all his actions is the good of his own virtue (for instance, that of the brave man is that he may act bravely). Now this desire will then be wholly fulfilled, because the reason will be completely vigorous, being enlightened with the very light of God lest it stray from righteousness.

Consequent to his life as a citizen, there are also certain goods that man needs for his civic actions. Such is a position of honor, through inordinate desire of which men become proud and ambitious. Now by this vision men are raised to the highest position of honor, because they are united to God in a way, as we have proved above.¹ Hence, even as God himself is the king of ages,² so the blessed united to him are said to be kings: They shall reign with Christ (Rev 20:6).

There is another desirable thing consequent to the civic life, and this is to be well known; through inordinate desire of this men are said to be desirous of vain glory. Now by this vision the blessed become well known—not in the opinion of men, who can both deceive and be deceived, but in the most true knowledge both of God and of all the blessed. Hence this happiness is many times described as glory in Sacred Scripture: The saints will exult in glory (Ps 149:5).

There is yet another desirable thing in the civic life, and this is riches; through inordinate desire of which men become illiberal and unjust. Now in that happy state there is a sufficiency of all goods, inasmuch as the blessed enjoy him who contains the perfection of all goods. Hence it is said: All good things came to me along with her (Wis 7:11). And again: Wealth and riches are in his house (Ps 112[111]:3).

There is a third desire in man, common to him and other animals, namely, the desire for the enjoyment of pleasure. And men especially pursue this by leading a voluptuous life, and through lack of moderation become intemperate and incontinent. Now in that vision there is the most perfect pleasure, all the more perfect than sensuous pleasure as the intellect is above the senses; as the good in which we shall delight surpasses all sensible good, is more penetrating, and more continuously delightful; and as that pleasure is freer from all alloy of sorrow, or trouble of anxiety. Of this it is said: They shall be inebriated with the plenty of your house, and you shall make them drink of the torrent of your pleasure (Ps 35:9).

There is also the natural desire, common to all things, whereby all things seek to be preserved in their being, as far as possible. Through lack of moderation in this desire, men become timorous, and spare themselves overmuch in the matter of labor. This desire will be altogether fulfilled when the blessed obtain perfect immortality, and security from all evil, according to Isaiah 49:10 and Revelation 21:4:¹ They shall not hunger or thirst; neither scorching wind nor sun shall smite them.

It is therefore evident that intellectual substances attain to true beatitude by seeing God, when their every desire is satisfied, and when there is a sufficiency of all good things, as is required for happiness, as Aristotle says.¹ Hence Boethius says that happiness is a state of life made perfect by the accumulation of all goods.²

In this life there is nothing so like this ultimate and perfect happiness as the life of those who contemplate the truth, as far as possible here below. Hence the philosophers who were unable to obtain full knowledge of that final beatitude placed man’s ultimate happiness in that contemplation which is possible during this life. For this reason too, Sacred Scripture commends the contemplative rather than other forms of life, when our Lord said: Mary has chosen the better part, namely, the contemplation of truth, which shall not be taken from her (Luke 10:42). For contemplation of truth begins in this life, but will be consummated in the life to come, while the active and civic life does not transcend the limits of this life.

Providence

That God governs things by his providence

From what has been laid down in the preceding chapters, it has been sufficiently proved that God is the end of all, from which we may further conclude that by his providence he governs or rules all.

For whenever certain things are ordered to a certain end, they are all subject to the disposal of the one to whom chiefly that end belongs. This may be seen in an army, since all the parts of the army, and their actions, are directed to the good of the general (namely, victory) as their ultimate end: for which reason the government of the whole army belongs to the general. In the same way, that art which is concerned with the end dictates and gives laws to the art which is concerned with things directed to the end, as civics controls the military art, and this directs the art of horsemanship; and the art of sailing directs the art of ship-building. Since, then, all things are directed to the divine goodness as their last end, as we have shown above,¹ it follows that God—to whom that goodness belongs chiefly as essentially possessed, understood, and loved—must be the governor of all.

Again. Whoever makes a thing for the sake of an end makes use of it for that end. Now it has been shown above that whatsoever has being in any way is an effect of God:¹ and that God makes all things for an end which is himself.² Therefore, he uses everything by directing it to its end. But this is to govern. Therefore, God, by his providence, is the governor of all.

Besides. It has been shown that God is the first unmoved mover. Now the first mover moves no less than second movers; more so indeed, because without him they do not move other things. But all things that are moved, are moved for an end, as was shown above.¹ Therefore, God moves each thing to its end. Moreover, he moves them by his intellect: for it has been proved above² that he moves not by natural necessity, but by intellect and will. Now to rule and govern by providence is nothing else but to move certain things to their end by one’s intellect. Therefore, God by his providence governs and rules all things that are moved to their end, whether they be moved corporally or spiritually (as the seeker is said to be moved by the object desired).

Moreover. It was proved¹ that natural bodies are moved and work towards an end, although they have no knowledge of an end, from the fact that always or nearly always that which is best happens to them: nor would they be made otherwise if they were made by art. Now it is impossible that things without knowledge of an end should act for an end, and attain to that end in an orderly manner, unless they be moved to that end by one who has knowledge of the end (as the arrow is directed to the mark by the archer). Therefore, the whole operation of nature must be directed by some knowledge. This must be traced back to God mediately or immediately, because every subordinate art and knowledge must take its principles from a higher one, as may be seen in speculative and practical sciences. Therefore, God governs the world by his providence.

Further. Things distinct in nature do not converge into one order unless they be brought together by one ordainer. Now the universe is composed of things distinct from one another and of contrary natures, and yet they all converge into one order: some things acting on others, some helping or directing others. Therefore, there must be one ordainer and governor of the universe.

Moreover. Natural necessity cannot be alleged as the reason for the various phenomena to be observed in the movements of the heavenly bodies, since the movements of some are more numerous than, and wholly different from, the movements of others. Therefore, the ordering of their movements must come from some providence: consequently, so must the ordering of all those movements and operations here below, that are controlled by the former movements.

Besides. The nearer a thing is to its cause, the greater share it has in the effect. Therefore, if we observe that a thing is the more perfectly shared by certain individuals, according as these are nearer to a certain thing, this is a sign that this thing is the cause of that which is shared in various degrees. Thus, if certain things are hotter according as they are nearer fire, this shows that fire is the cause of their heat. Now we see that things are all the more perfectly ordered according as they are nearer to God; in the lower bodies, which are farthest removed from God by unlikeness of nature, we sometimes find defects from the ordinary course of nature (as in monstrosities, and other casual happenings), but this never happens in the heavenly bodies (although they are changeable in a certain degree), nor in the separate intellectual substances. Therefore, God is the cause of the entire order of things: consequently, he is the governor of the whole universe by his providence.

Further. As we proved above, God brought all things into being not by natural necessity, but by his intellect and will. Now his intellect and will can have no other ultimate end but his goodness, namely, the bestowal of his goodness on things, as was shown above.¹ And things partake of the divine goodness by way of likeness, in being good themselves. And the greatest good in things made by him is the good consisting in the order of the universe, which is most perfect, as the Philosopher says.² Divine Scripture says in like manner: God saw everything that he had made, and they were very good (Gen 1:31), whereas of each single work it was said simply that they were good. Consequently, that which is chiefly willed and caused by God is the good consisting in the order of things of which he is the cause. But to govern things is nothing else but to impose order on them. Therefore, God governs all things by his intellect and will.

Moreover. Whoever has an end in view cares more for what is nearest to the last end, because the other ends are directed to this. Now the last end of God’s will is his goodness, the nearest thing to which among created things is the good consisting in the order of the universe, because every particular good of this or that thing is ordained to it as its end, just as the less perfect is ordained to that which is more perfect (even as each part is for the sake of its whole). Consequently, that which God cares for most in created things is the order of the universe. Therefore, he governs it.

Again. Every created thing attains its ultimate perfection by its proper operation, because a thing’s ultimate end and perfection must be either an operation or the term or effect of an operation; and the form whereby a thing exists is its first perfection, as stated in 2 De Anima.¹ Now the order among effects in respect of different natures and their degrees issues from divine wisdom, as we showed in the second book.² Therefore, the order among the operations, whereby things approach nearer to their ultimate end, also does so in like manner. But to direct the actions of things to their end is to govern them. Therefore, God governs and rules things by the providence of his wisdom.

Hence Sacred Scripture acclaims God as Lord and King, according to the Psalm: The Lord is God (Ps 100[99]:3), and again: God is the king of all the earth (Ps 47[46]:7), because the king and lord is he whose office it is to rule and govern subjects. Hence Sacred Scripture ascribes the course of events to the divine control, who commands the sun, and it does not rise; who seals up the stars (Job 9:7); and in the Psalm: He set a law which cannot pass away (Ps 148:6).

Hereby is refuted the error of some physicists of old, who held that everything happens from natural necessity, from which it followed that all things happen by chance, and not by the ordinance of providence.

That God preserves things in existence

From the fact that God governs things by his providence, it follows that he preserves them in existence.

For everything whereby certain things obtain their end comes under the government of those things, because things are said to be governed or ruled according as they are directed to their end. Now things are directed to the ultimate end intended by God (that is, the divine goodness) not only in that they operate, but also in the very fact that they exist, because inasmuch as they exist they bear a likeness to the divine goodness, which is the end of all things, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, it belongs to divine providence that things be preserved in existence.

Again. The cause of a thing must be the same as the cause of its preservation, because preservation is nothing else than continued existence. Now we have shown above¹ that God is the cause of every thing’s existence by his intellect and will. Therefore, by his intellect and will he preserves things in existence.

Besides. No particular univocal agent can be the cause of its species simply: thus an individual man cannot be the cause of the human species, for then he would be the cause of every man, and consequently of himself, which is impossible. But properly speaking, the individual is the cause of the individual. Now the individual man exists insofar as the human nature is in this particular matter, which is the principle of his individuality. Therefore, the human individual is not the cause of a man except in the point of his being the cause of the human form being in this particular matter: and this is to be the principle of the generation of this particular man. It is consequently evident that neither the individual man, nor any other natural univocal agent, is a cause except of the generation of an individual. Now there must be some per se active cause of the human species: as is evidenced by his composite nature, and the order of his parts, which is always the same, unless it be hindered accidentally. And the same applies to all other species of natural things.

This cause is God, either mediately or immediately: for it has been shown¹ that he is the first cause of all. Consequently, he stands in relation to the species of things as in nature the individual generator to the generation of which he is the per se cause. But generation ceases when the generator’s action ceases. Therefore, all the species of things would cease if the divine operation were to cease. Therefore, he preserves things in existence by his operation.

Moreover. Although movement may accidentally belong to an existing thing, it is something additional to the thing’s being. Now nothing corporeal is the cause of any thing except insofar as it is moved; because no body acts except through movement, as Aristotle proves.¹ Therefore, no body is the cause of a thing’s existence, as such, but it is the cause of a thing’s being moved towards existence (that is, of its becoming). Now the existence of a thing is participated existence, since no thing save God is its own existence, as we proved above.² Consequently, God, who is his own being, must be first and per se the cause of all being. Accordingly, the divine operation stands in the same relation to the existence of things as the movement of a corporeal mover to the being made and the being moved of things made or moved. Now it is impossible that a thing continue to be made or to be moved if the movement of the mover cease. Therefore, a thing cannot possibly continue to exist except through the divine operation.

Further. As the operation of art presupposes the operation of nature, so the operation of nature presupposes the creative operation of God, because art takes its matter from nature, and nature receives its matter from God through creation. Now the products of art are preserved in being by virtue of the products of nature (a house, for instance, by the solidity of the stones). Therefore, all natural things would not continue to exist except by the power of God.

Again. The impression of the agent does not remain in the effect after the action of the agent has ceased, unless it merges into the nature of the effect. For the forms of things generated, and their properties, remain in them to the end after generation, because they become natural to them. In like manner, the reason why habits are hard to remove is that they merge into the nature: whereas dispositions and passions, whether in the body or in the soul, remain for a time after the action of the agent, but not forever, because they are in their subject as preparing a way to nature. On the other hand, that which belongs to the nature of a higher genus in no way remains after the action of the agent: thus light does not remain in the diaphanous body after the illuminant has been removed. Now existence is not the nature or essence of any created thing, but of God alone, as was proved in the first book.¹ Therefore, nothing could continue to exist if the divine operation were to cease.

Further. There are two explanations of the origin of things. One is that proposed by faith, that things were first brought into being by God; the other is that of certain philosophers holding that things emanated from God from eternity.¹ According to either explanation, it is necessary to say that things are preserved in existence by God. For if things were brought into being by God after not being, their existence as well as their nonexistence must result from the divine will, because he permitted things not to be when he so willed, and caused them to be when he so willed. Therefore, they exist so long as he wills them to exist. Therefore, his will is the preserver of things.

If, on the other hand, things emanated from God from eternity, we cannot assign a time or an instant when they first emanated from God. Either, therefore, they were never produced by God, or their existence is always emanating from God, as long as they exist. Therefore, he preserves things in existence by his operation.

Hence it is said: upholding the universe by his word of power (Heb 1:3). Augustine also says: The potency of the Creator, and the power of the Almighty and the upholder of all, is the cause of every creature’s subsistence. If this ruling power were withdrawn from his creatures, their form would cease at once, and all nature would collapse. When a man is building a house, and goes away, the building remains after he has ceased to work and has gone: but the world would not stand for a single instant, if God withdrew his support.¹

Hereby is refuted the statement of certain authorities quoted in the law of the Moors,¹ who, in order to be able to maintain that the world needs to be preserved by God, held that all forms are accidents, and that no accident lasts for two instants, so that things would always be in the process of formation: as though a thing did not need an active cause except while being made. Therefore, some of them are stated to have maintained that the indivisible bodies of which, they say, all substances are composed, and which alone have any permanency (according to them), would be able for a time to remain in existence if God were to withdraw his government from things. Some of these say indeed that things would not cease to exist unless God caused in them the accident of ceasing-to-be. All of which is plainly absurd.

That nothing gives existence except insofar as it acts by God’s power

It is evident from what has gone before that all inferior agents do not give existence except insofar as they act by God’s power.

Nothing gives existence except insofar as it is a being in act. Now God preserves things in existence by his providence, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, it is by God’s power that a thing causes existence.

Again. When several different agents are subordinate to one agent, the effect that proceeds from them in common must be ascribed to them insofar as they are united together in partaking of the movement and power of that agent: for many things do not make one, except insofar as they are one. Thus it is clear that all the men in an army work in order to effect a victory, and this effect they bring about insofar as they are subordinate to the general, whose proper effect is the victory. Now it was shown in the first book¹ that the first agent is God. Since, then, existence is the effect common to all agents (for every agent makes a thing to be actually), it follows that they produce this effect insofar as they are subordinate to the first agent, and act by its power.

Besides. In all ordered active causes, the last thing in the order of generation and the first in the intention is the proper effect of the first cause: thus the form of a house, which is the proper effect of the builder, comes into being after the preparation of cement, stones and timber, which is the work of the inferior workmen who are subject to the builder. Now in every action, actual being is the chief thing intended, and is the last thing in the order of generation, because, when it is obtained, the active principle ceases to act, and the passive principle ceases to be acted upon. Therefore, existence is the proper effect of the first agent, namely God; and whatever gives being does so insofar as it acts by the power of God.

Moreover. Among the things that can be reached by the power of a secondary agent, the limit in goodness and perfection is that which comes within its range through the power of the first agent, because the secondary agent’s power receives its complement from the first agent. Now the most perfect of all effects is being, since every nature and form is perfected through being actually, and is compared to actual being as a potency to act. Therefore, existence is what secondary agents produce by the power of the first agent.

Besides. The order of effects is according to the order of causes. Now the first of all effects is being, for all others are determinations of being. Therefore, being is the proper effect of the first agent, and all other agents produce it by the power of the first agent. And secondary agents (which, as it were, particularize and determine the action of the first agent) produce the other perfections as their proper effects, which are particular kinds of being.

Therefore it is said: God created all things that they might exist (Wis 1:14). And in several passages of Sacred Scripture it is stated that God makes all things. Again, in De Causis it is said that not even does an intelligence give being except insofar as it is divine, that is, insofar as it acts by God’s power.

That in all things that operate God is the cause of their operating

Hence it is clear that in all things that operate God is the cause of their operating. For everyone that operates is in some way a cause of being, either of essential or of accidental being. But nothing is a cause of being except insofar as it acts by God’s power. Therefore, everyone that operates acts by God’s power.

Again. Every operation consequent to a certain power is ascribed to the giver of that power as effect to cause. Thus the natural movement of heavy and light bodies is consequent to their form, whereby they are heavy or light—hence the cause of their movement is said to be that which produced them and gave them their form. Now all power of any agent whatsoever is from God, as from the first principle of all perfection. Therefore, since all operation is consequent to some power, it follows that God is the cause of every operation.

Moreover. It is clear that every action that cannot continue after the influence of a certain agent has ceased is from that agent: thus the visibility of colors cannot continue after the action of the sun has ceased to enlighten the air, and therefore without doubt it is the cause of the visibility of colors. The same applies to violent motion, which ceases when the violence of the impelling force has ceased. Now, since God not only gave existence to things when they first began to exist, but also causes existence in them as long as they exist by preserving them in existence, as we have proved,¹ so not only did he give them active forces when he first made them, but is always causing those forces in them. Consequently, if the divine influence were to cease, all operation would come to an end. Therefore, every operation of a thing is reducible to him as its cause.

Besides. Whatever applies an active power to action is said to be the cause of that action. For the craftsman, when he applies the forces of nature to an action, is said to be the cause of that action, as the cook is the cause of cooking, which is done by fire. Now every application of power to action is chiefly and primarily from God. For active forces are applied to their proper operations by some movement of the body or of the soul. Now the first principle of either movement is God. For he is the first mover, wholly immovable, as we have proved above.¹ Likewise, every movement of the will whereby certain powers are applied to action is reducible to God as the first object of appetite, and the first willer. Therefore, every operation should be ascribed to God as its first and principal agent.

Further. In all ordered active causes, the causes that follow must always act by the power of the first: thus in natural things the lower bodies act by the power of the heavenly bodies, and in voluntary things all the inferior craftsmen act in accordance with the direction of the master craftsman. Now, in the order of active causes, God is the first cause, as we proved in the first book.¹ Consequently, all the lower active causes act by his power. Now the cause of an action is the thing by whose power it is done, more even than that which does it: just as the principal agent is more the cause than the instrument. Therefore, God is more the cause of every action than even secondary active causes.

Further. Every operator is directed through its operation to its ultimate end, since its last end is either the operation itself or the thing operated (namely, the effect of the operation). Now it belongs to God himself to direct things to their end, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, we must conclude that every agent acts by the power of God: consequently, it is he who causes the actions of all things.

Hence it is said: You have wrought in us all our works (Isa 26:12); and: Apart from me you can do nothing (John 15:5); and: God is at work in us¹ both to will and to work for his good pleasure (Phil 2:13). For this reason Sacred Scripture often ascribes natural effects to the divine operation, because it is he who works in every agent, natural or voluntary, as it is written in Job: Did you not pour me out like milk and curdle me like cheese? You did clothe me with skin and flesh, and knit me together with bones and sinews (Job 10:10–11); and again in the Psalm: The Lord thundered in the heavens, and the Most High uttered his voice, hailstones and coals of fire (Ps 18:13[17:14]).

That God is everywhere

From this it is evident that God must be everywhere and in all things.

For the mover and the thing moved must be simultaneous, as the Philosopher proves.¹ Now God moves all things in their actions, as we have proved.² Therefore, he is in all things.

Again. Whatever is in a place, or in anything whatsoever, is, after a manner, in contact with it: for a body is located somewhere by contact of dimensive quantity, while an incorporeal thing is said to be somewhere by contact of its power, since it lacks dimensive quantity. Accordingly, an incorporeal thing stands in relation to being somewhere by its power, as a body to being somewhere by dimensive quantity. And if there were a body having infinite dimensive quantity, it would of necessity be everywhere. Consequently, if there be an incorporeal thing with infinite power it must be everywhere. Now we proved in the first book¹ that God has infinite power. Therefore, he is everywhere.

Besides. As an individual cause is to an individual effect, so is a universal cause to a universal effect. Now the individual cause must be present to its proper effect: thus fire by its substance gives out heat, and the soul by its essence gives life to the body. Since, then, God is the universal cause of all being, as we proved in the second book,¹ it follows that wherever being is to be found, there also is God present.

Furthermore. If an agent be present to but one of its effects, its action cannot extend to other things except through that one, because agent and patient must be simultaneous: thus the motive power moves the various members of the body not otherwise than through the heart. Consequently, if God be present to but one of his effects, such as the first movable (which is moved by him immediately), it would follow that his action cannot extend to other things except through that first effect. But this is unreasonable. For if the action of an agent cannot extend to other things except through some first effect, the latter must correspond proportionately to the agent as regards the agent’s whole power, or else the agent could not use its whole power: thus we see that all the movements which the motive power is able to cause can be performed by the heart. Now there is no creature through which can be done everything that the divine power is capable of doing: for the divine power infinitely surpasses every created thing, as we proved in the first book.¹ Consequently, it is unreasonable to say that the divine action does not extend to other things except through some first thing. Therefore, he is present, not in one only, but in all his effects. For it would amount to the same if someone were to say that he is in some, and not in all, because no matter how many divine effects we take, they will not suffice to carry into effect the execution of the divine power.

Thus it is said: I fill heaven and earth (Jer 23:24); and: If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I descend to hell, you are there (Ps 139[138]:8).

Hereby we refute the error of some who said that God is in a definite part of the world—for instance, in the first heaven, and in the eastern portion, so that he is the principle of the heavenly movement. Yet this statement of theirs might be upheld if rightly understood, so that the meaning is not that God is confined to some particular part of the world, but that in the natural order, owing to the divine motion, all corporeal movement begins in one particular part. For this reason Sacred Scripture specially describes God as being in heaven, according to Isaiah: Heaven is my throne (Isa 66:1), and in the Psalm: The heavens are the Lord’s heavens (Ps 115:16[113:24)]). However, the fact that God works in the lowest bodies something outside the ordinary course of nature (which cannot be wrought by the power of a heavenly body) shows clearly that God is immediately present not only to the heavenly body, but also to the lowest things.

But we must not think that God is everywhere as though he were distributed throughout local space, one part of him here, another there, but that he is all everywhere. For God, being utterly simple, has no parts.

Nor is he simple in the same way as a point, which is the term of a continuous quantity, and consequently occupies a definite place in it: hence one point cannot be elsewhere than in one indivisible place. But God is indivisible as existing altogether outside the genus of continuous quantity. Consequently, he is not necessitated by his essence to a definite place, great or small, as though he needed to be in some place, for he was from eternity before there was any place. Yet by the immensity of his power he reaches all things that are in a place, because he is the universal cause of being, as we have stated.¹

Accordingly, he is wholly wheresoever he is. And yet again we must not think that he is in things as though he were mingled with them. For we proved in the first book¹ that he is neither the matter nor the form of anything, but he is in all things as active cause.

This was an occasion of error to some who thought that no creature has an active part in the production of natural effects: thus fire would not heat, but God would cause heat at the presence of fire; and they maintained the like of all natural effects.

They endeavored to confirm this error with arguments, by showing that no form, whether substantial or accidental, is brought into being except by the way of creation. For forms and accidents cannot be made out of matter, since matter is not a part of them. Hence, if they be made, they must be made out of nothing, and this is to be created. And since creation is the act of God alone, as we proved in the second book,¹ it would seem to follow that God brings into being forms both substantial and accidental.

The opinion of certain philosophers agreed in part with this position. For, seeing that whatever is not of itself must result from that which is of itself, it would seem that the forms of things which do not exist by themselves but in matter result from forms that are by themselves without matter (as though forms existing in matter were participations of forms that are without matter). For this reason Plato supposed that the species of sensible things are certain separate forms, which are causes of being to these objects of sense, insofar as these partake of them.

Avicenna maintained that all substantial forms emanate from the active intelligence. But he held accidental forms to be dispositions of matter, resulting from the action of lower agents disposing the matter. In this he avoided the absurdity of the previous opinion.

A sign of this apparently was that no active power can be found in these bodies except the accidental form— for instance, active and passive qualities—and these would not seem capable of causing substantial forms.

Moreover, in these lower things we find certain things that are not engendered from their like—for instance, animals caused through putrefaction. Therefore, it seems that the forms of these are caused by higher principles; and other forms in like manner, some of which are much more perfect.

Some too find proof of this in the inadequacy of natural bodies for action. Because the form of every natural body is annexed to quantity. Now quantity is an obstacle to action and movement: they see a sign of this in the fact that the more we add to the quantity of a body, the heavier it becomes, and the slower its movement. Hence they conclude that no body is active, but that all bodies are purely passive.

They also attempt to prove this again from the fact that every patient is subject to the agent; and that every agent, save the first which creates, requires a subject inferior to itself. But no substance is inferior to a body. Therefore, seemingly no body is active.

They add that the corporeal substance is the furthest removed from the first agent. Hence they do not see how the active power can reach as far as the corporeal substance, and maintain that, as God is purely active, so the corporeal substance, being the lowest thing of all, is purely passive.

For these reasons, then, Avicebron,¹ in the book Fons Vitae,² held that no body is active: but that the power of a spiritual substance pervading through bodies produces the actions which seem to be performed by bodies.

Moreover, certain Muslim theologians are said to have argued that even accidents are not the result of corporeal activity, because an accident does not pass from one subject to another. Hence they deem it impossible for heat to pass from a hot body into another body so as to heat it, but that all like accidents are created by God.¹

However, many absurdities arise from the foregoing positions. For if no inferior cause (above all a body) is active, and if God works alone in all things, since God is not changed through working in various things, no diversity will follow among the effects through the diversity of the things in which God works. Now this is evidently false to the senses: for from the application of a hot body there follows, not cooling, but only heating; and from human seed is generated a man only. Therefore, the causing of inferior effects is not to be ascribed to the divine power so as to withdraw the causality of inferior agents.

Again. It is contrary to the notion of wisdom that any thing should be done in vain in the works of a wise man. But if creatures did nothing at all towards the production of effects, and God alone wrought everything immediately, other things would be employed by him in vain for the production of effects. Therefore, the above position is incompatible with divine wisdom.

Besides. He who gives a principle gives whatever results from the principle: thus the cause that gives gravity to an element gives it downward movement. Now to make a thing actual results from being actual, as we see to be the case in God, for he is pure act, and is also the first cause of being in all things, as we proved above.¹ If, therefore, he bestowed his likeness on others in respect of being, insofar as he brought things into being, it follows that he also bestowed on them his likeness in the point of acting, so that creatures too should have their proper actions.

Further. Perfection of effect indicates perfection of cause, since greater power produces a more perfect effect. Now God is the most perfect agent. Therefore, things created by him must receive perfection from him. Consequently, to detract from the creature’s perfection is to detract from the perfection of the divine power. But if no creature exercises an action for the production of an effect, much is detracted from the perfection of the creature; because it is due to the abundance of its perfection that a thing is able to communicate to another the perfection that it has. Therefore, this opinion detracts from the divine power.

Moreover. Just as it belongs to the good to produce a good, so it belongs to the highest good to make a thing best. Now God is the highest good, as we proved in the first book.¹ Therefore, it belongs to him to make all things best. Now it is better that the good bestowed on someone should be common to many than that it should be proper to one, since the common good is always considered more godlike than the good of one only.² But the good of one becomes common to many if it flows from the one to the other; this can only be when the one, by its own action, communicates it to the others. If it has not the power to transmit it to others, that good remains its own property. Accordingly, God communicated his goodness to his creatures in such a way that one thing can communicate to another the good it has received. Therefore, it is derogatory to the divine goodness to deny things their proper operations.

Again. To take order away from creatures is to deny them the best thing they have, because each one is good in itself, while altogether they are very good on account of the order of the universe: for the whole is always better than the parts, and is their end. Now if we subtract action from things, the order among things is withdrawn, because things differing in nature are not bound together in the unity of order, except through the fact that some are active and some passive. Therefore, it is unreasonable to say that things have not their proper actions.

Besides. If effects be produced not by the act of creatures but only by the act of God, the power of a created cause cannot possibly be indicated by its effect. This is so because the effect is no indication of the cause’s power, except by reason of the action which proceeds from the power and terminates in the effect. Now the nature of a cause is not known from its effect except insofar as this is an indication of its power which results from its nature. Consequently, if creatures exercise no action in producing effects, it will follow that the nature of a creature can never be known from its effect, so that all knowledge of physical science would be denied us, for it is there that arguments from effects are chiefly employed.

Further. By induction it can be proved that like produces like.¹ Now, that which is produced in lower things is not a mere form, but a composite of matter and form, because every generation is movement out of something (namely, matter), and to something (namely, form). Therefore, the producer must be not a mere form, but composed of matter and form. Therefore, the cause of forms which exist in matter is not the separate species of things, as the Platonists maintained, nor the active intellect, as Avicenna said, but an individual composed of matter and form.

Again. If action is consequent to being actual, it is unreasonable that the more perfect act be deprived of action. Now the substantial form is a more perfect act than the accidental. Consequently, if the accidental forms in corporeal things have their proper actions,¹ much more has the substantial form an operation proper to it. But this action does not consist in disposing matter, because this is effected by alteration, for which accidental forms suffice. Therefore, the form of the generator is the principle of the action whereby the substantial form is introduced into the thing generated.

The arguments they adduce are easily solved. For, since a thing is made that it may be, just as a form is called a being not as though itself had being, but because by it the composite is, so neither is the form made, properly speaking, but it begins to be through the composite being brought from potency to the act which is the form.

Nor is it necessary that whatever has a form by way of participation receive it from that which is a form essentially; for it may receive it immediately from something having a like form in a like manner (namely, by participation), and acting by virtue of the separate form, if there be any such. Thus like agent produces like effect.

Nor does it follow, because every action of inferior bodies is effected through active or passive qualities, which are accidents, that nothing save accidents results from those actions, because even as those accidental forms are caused by the substantial form, which together with matter is the cause of the proper accidents, so do they act by virtue of the substantial form. Now that which acts by virtue of another produces an effect like not only to itself, but also, and more, to that by virtue of which it acts—thus the action of the instrument reproduces in the work done the likeness of the art—so that the action of accidental forms produces substantial forms inasmuch as they act instrumentally by virtue of substantial forms.

As to animals generated from putrefaction, the substantial form is caused in them through the agency of a body (namely, the heavenly body) that is the first principle of alteration. Consequently, in this lower sphere, whatever acts dispositively to a form must act by virtue of that body, so that the virtue of the heavenly body suffices without an univocal agent for the production of certain imperfect forms. But for the production of more perfect forms, such as the souls of the higher animals, an univocal agent is required besides the celestial agent, for such animals are not produced otherwise than by seed. Hence Aristotle says that man and the sun generate man.¹

Again, it is untrue that quantity is an obstacle to a form’s activity except accidentally, namely, insofar as all continuous quantity is in matter. Thus the form which exists in matter has less active virtue through being less actual, so that the body which has less matter and more form (fire, for instance) is more active. But if we suppose the measure of action of which a form existing in matter is capable, then quantity favors an increase rather than a decrease of action: for the greater the fiery body, the more heat does it give, supposing the heat to be equally intense; and supposing an equally intense gravity, the greater a heavy body is, the more rapid will be its natural movement (and for the same reason the slower will its non-natural movement be). Accordingly, the fact that heavy bodies are slower in their non-natural movements, through being of greater quantity, is no proof that quantity is an obstacle to action, but rather that it is a help to its increase.

Again, it does not follow that all bodies are without action because corporeal substance is of the lowest kind in the order of things, since even among bodies one is higher, more formal and more active than another, as fire in comparison with lower bodies, and yet not even the lowest body is excluded from activity. For it is clear that a body cannot be wholly active, since it is composed of matter, which is potential being, and form, which is act. For a thing acts according as it is actual: hence every body acts in respect of its form, to which the other body (namely, the patient) is compared as subject with regard to its matter, inasmuch as its matter is in potency to the form of the agent. If, on the other hand, the matter of the active body be in potency to the form of the passive body, they will be mutually active and passive, as in the case of two elementary bodies; or else one will be purely active and the other purely passive in relation to it, as the heavenly body compared to the elementary body. Accordingly, a body acts on a subject not by reason of its entirety, but by reason of the form by which it works.

Nor is it true that bodies are furthest removed from God. For as God is pure act, things are more or less distant from him according as they are more or less in act or potency. And that of all things is furthest distant from God which is pure potency—namely, prime matter. This is thus purely passive and in no way active. On the other hand, bodies, being composed of matter and form, approach to a likeness to God inasmuch as they have a form, which Aristotle¹ calls a divine thing. Hence they act inasmuch as they have a form, and are passive inasmuch as they have matter.

Again, it is absurd to say that a body is not active because accidents do not pass from one subject to another. For when we say that a hot body gives heat, we do not mean that the identical heat which is in the heater passes into the heated body: but that by virtue of the heat in the heater, another heat, individually distinct, becomes actual in the heated body, having been potentially in it before. For the natural agent does not transmit its own form into another subject, but reduces the passive subject from potency to act.

Consequently, we do not deny creatures their proper actions, although we ascribe all the effects of creatures to God, as operating in all.

How the same effect is from God and from the natural agent

Some find it difficult to understand how natural effects are ascribed to God and to the activity of nature.

For it would seem impossible that one action should proceed from two agents. Hence if the action productive of a natural effect proceeds from a natural body, it does not proceed from God.

Again. If a thing can be done sufficiently by means of one, it is superfluous to do it by means of several, for we observe that nature does not employ two instruments where one suffices. Since, then, the divine power suffices to produce natural effects, it is superfluous to also employ the powers of nature for the production of the same effects. Or, if the forces of nature suffice, it is superfluous for the divine power to work for the same effect.

However, these arguments offer no difficulty if we mind what has been said already. For two things may be considered in every agent, namely, the thing itself that acts, and the power whereby it acts; thus fire makes a thing hot by its heat. Now the power of the lower agent depends on the power of the higher agent insofar as the higher agent gives the lower agent the power whereby it acts, or preserves that power, or applies it to action: thus the craftsman applies the instrument to its proper effect, although sometimes he does not give the instrument the form whereby it acts, nor preserves that form, but merely puts it into motion. Consequently, the action of the lower agent must not only proceed from it through the latter’s proper power, but also through the power of all the higher agents, for it acts by virtue of them all. And just as the lowest agent is found to be immediately active, so the power of the first agent is found to be immediate in the production of the effect, because the power of the lowest agent does not of itself produce this effect, but by the power of the proximate higher agent, and this by the power of a yet higher agent, so that the power of the supreme agent is found to produce the effects of itself as though it were the immediate cause, as may be seen in the principles of demonstration, the first of which is immediate. Accordingly, just as it is not unreasonable that one action be produced by an agent and by the virtue of that agent, so is it not absurd that the same effect be produced by the inferior agent and by God, and by both immediately, though in a different way.

It is also evident that there is nothing superfluous if nature produce its proper effect and God produce it also, since nature does not produce it except by God’s power.

Nor is it superfluous, if God can produce all natural effects by himself, that they should be produced by certain other causes. For this is not owing to insufficiency of his power, but to the immensity of his goodness, through which it was his will to communicate his likeness to things not only in the point of their being, but also in the point of their being causes of other things: for it is in these two ways that all creatures in common have the divine likeness bestowed on them, as we proved above.¹ In this way also the beauty of order is made evident in creatures.

It is also clear that the same effect is ascribed to a natural cause and to God not as though part were effected by God and part by the natural agent; but the whole effect proceeds from each, yet in different ways, just as the whole of the one same effect is ascribed to the instrument, and again the whole is ascribed to the principal agent.

That divine providence does not entirely exclude evil from things

From the foregoing it is also clear that divine providence, which governs things, does not prevent corruption, defects and evil from being in the world.

For the divine government by which God works among things does not exclude the operation of second causes, as we have already shown.¹ Now, a fault may occur in an effect through a fault in the secondary active cause without there being any fault in the first agent: thus there may be a fault in the work of a craftsman who is perfect in his craft on account of some defect in the instrument. And in the same way, a man with strong motive power may limp through no fault in the motive power, but because his leg is not straight. Accordingly, in the things moved and governed by God, defect and evil may be found on account of defects in the secondary agents, although there is no defect in God.

Moreover. Perfect goodness would not be found in things unless there were degrees of goodness, namely, so that there be some things better than others: else all the possible degrees of goodness would not be fulfilled, nor would any creature be found like to God in the point of being better than others. Moreover, this would do away with the chief beauty in things if the order resulting from distinction and disparity were abolished; and what is more, the absence of inequality in goodness would involve the absence of multitude, since it is by reason of things differing from one another that one is better than another: for instance, the animate than the inanimate, and the rational than the irrational. Consequently, if there were absolute equality among things there would be but one created good, which is clearly derogatory to the goodness of the creature. Now the higher degree of goodness is that a thing be good and unable to fail from goodness, and the lower degree is of that which can fail from goodness. Therefore, the perfection of the universe requires both degrees of goodness. Now it belongs to the providence of the governor to preserve and not to diminish perfection in the things governed. Therefore, it does not belong to the providence of God entirely to exclude from things the possibility of failing from goodness. But evil results from this possibility, because that which can fail, at times does fail; and this very deficiency of the good is evil, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, it does not belong to the divine providence to ward off evil entirely from things.

Again. In every government the best thing is that provision be made for the things governed, according to their mode: for in this consists the justice of the regime. Consequently, even as it would be contrary to the right notion of human rule if the governor of a state were to forbid men to act according to their various duties—except perhaps for the time being, on account of some particular urgency—so would it be contrary to the notion of God’s government if he did not allow creatures to act in accordance with their respective natures. Now, corruption and evil result in things through creatures acting thus; since by reason of the contrariety and incompatibility that exist in things, one thing is corruptive of another. Therefore, it does not belong to divine providence to exclude evil from things altogether.

Besides. An agent cannot possibly produce an evil except by reason of its intending some good, as we proved above.¹ Now it does not belong to the providence of one who is the cause of all good to exclude from creatures all intention of any particular good, for thus many goods would be banished from the universe. Thus if fire were deprived of the intention of producing its like (a consequence of which is the evil of burning combustible things), the good consisting in fire being generated and preserved in its species would be done away. Therefore, it is not part of divine providence to exclude evil altogether from things.

Further. There are in the world many good things which would have no place unless there were evils. Thus there would be no patience of the righteous if there were no ill-will of the persecutors, nor would there be any place for vindictive justice were there no crimes. Even in the physical order, there would be no generation of one thing unless there were corruption of another. Consequently, if evil were entirely excluded from the universe by divine providence, it would be necessary to lessen the great number of good things. This ought not to be, since good is more powerful in goodness than evil is in malice, as was shown above.¹ Therefore, evil should not be utterly excluded from things by divine providence.

Again. The good of the whole is of more account than the good of the part. Therefore, it belongs to a prudent governor to overlook a lack of goodness in a part that there may be an increase of goodness in the whole: thus the builder hides the foundation of a house underground so that the whole house may stand firm. Now if evil were taken away from certain parts of the universe, the perfection of the universe would be much diminished, since its beauty results from the ordered unity of good and evil things. This is because evil arises from the lack of good, and yet certain goods are occasioned from those very evils through the providence of the governor, even as the silent pause gives sweetness to the chant. Therefore, evil should not be excluded from things by divine providence.

Further. Other things, especially those of lower degree, are directed to man’s good as their end. But if there were no evils in the world, man’s good would be lessened considerably, both in his knowledge and in his desire or love of the good. For his knowledge of the good is increased by comparison with evil, and through suffering evil his desire of doing good is kindled. Thus the sick know best what a great good health is, and they also burn more for it than those who have it. Therefore, it does not belong to divine providence to exclude evil from the world altogether.

Hence it is said: I make peace and create evil (Isa 45:7); and: Does evil befall a city, unless the Lord has done it? (Amos 3:6).

Hereby we refute the error of those who said that there is no God through observing the presence of evil in the world. Thus Boethius introduces a philosopher who asks: If there be a God, whence comes evil?¹ On the contrary, he should have argued: if there is evil, there is a God. For there would be no evil if the order of good were removed, the privation of which is evil; there would be no such order if there were no God.

Moreover, by what has been laid down, an occasion of erring is removed from those who denied that divine providence extends to this corruptible world because they observed that many evils occur in it. They said that incorruptible things alone are subject to God’s providence, because no defects and no evils are to be found in them.

Also, we remove an occasion of error from the Manicheans, who posited two first active principles, good and evil, as though evil could have no place in the providence of a good God.

Also, the doubt of some (namely, whether evil deeds are from God) is solved. For, since we proved¹ that every agent produces its action insofar as it acts by the power of God, and that therefore God is the cause of all effects and actions; and since again we proved² that evil and defect in things ruled by divine providence result from the condition of the secondary causes, which may be themselves defective, it is evident that evil deeds, considered as defective, are not from God, but from their defective proximate causes. But insofar as they possess activity and entity, they must be from God, even as a limp is from the motive power insofar as it has movement; but insofar as it has a defect, it is from the crookedness of the leg.

That divine providence does not exclude contingency from things

Just as divine providence does not altogether banish evil from the world, so neither does it exclude contingency, nor impose necessity on things.

For we have already proved¹ that the operation of providence, whereby God operates in the world, does not exclude secondary causes, but is fulfilled by them inasmuch as they act by God’s power. Now certain effects are said to be necessary or contingent in relation to their proximate, not to their remote, cause: thus for a plant to bear fruit is a contingent effect on account of the proximate cause, which is the power of germination that can be hindered and fail, although a remote cause (namely, the sun) is a cause that acts of necessity. Since, then, among proximate causes there are many that can fail, not all the effects subject to divine providence will be necessary, but many of them will be contingent.

Again. It belongs to divine providence that the possible degrees of being be fulfilled, as was made evident above.¹ Now being is divided into contingent and necessary, and this is an essential division of being. Therefore, if divine providence excluded all contingency, not all the degrees of being would be preserved.

Besides. The nearer things are to God, the more they partake in a likeness to him, and the further they are from him, the more they fail in their likeness to him. Now those things that are nearest to God are altogether immovable—these are separate substances who approach nearest to a likeness to God, who is utterly immovable—while those that are nearest to them and are immediately moved by those that are unchangeable retain a certain degree of immobility, in that they are always moved in the same way—for instance, the heavenly bodies. Consequently, those that come after the foregoing, and are moved by them, are further removed from the divine immobility—namely, so that they are not always moved in the same way. In this the beauty of order is evident. But every necessary thing, as such, never varies. Therefore, it would be incompatible with divine providence, to whom it belongs to establish and preserve order among things, if all things happened of necessity.

Further. In every movement there is generation and corruption of a kind, since in a thing that is moved, something begins, and another ceases to be. Consequently, if all generation and corruption were banished through the withdrawal of all things contingent (as we have just proved), all movement and all movable things would be taken away in consequence.

Besides. If the power of a substance be weakened, or if it be hindered by a contrary agent, this argues some change in that power. Consequently, if divine providence does not banish movement from things, it will prevent neither the weakening of their power nor the impediment arising from the resistance of another agent. Now it is because that power is sometimes weakened and hindered that nature does not work always in the same way, but sometimes fails in that which is competent to a thing according to its nature, so that natural effects do not follow of necessity. Therefore, it does not belong to divine providence to impose necessity on the things governed.

Moreover. In things that are duly ruled by providence, there should be nothing vain. Since, therefore, it is evident that some causes are contingent, seeing that they can be hindered from producing their effects, it is clearly inconsistent with providence that all things should occur of necessity. Therefore, divine providence does not impose necessity on things by excluding contingency from them altogether.

That divine providence does not exclude free-will

Therefore, it is clear that providence does not exclude free will.

For the government of any prudent governor is directed to the perfection of the things governed, as regards its attainment, increase or preservation. Therefore, whatever pertains to perfection is to be safeguarded by providence rather than what savors of imperfection and defect. Now in inanimate beings, the contingency of causes arises from imperfection and deficiency, because by their nature they are determined to one effect which they always produce, unless there be an impediment due either to weakness of power, or some extrinsic agency, or indisposition of matter. For this reason natural causes are not indifferent to one or other result, but more often produce their effect in the same way, and seldom fail. On the other hand, it is owing to the perfection of the will that it is a contingent cause, because its power is not confined to one effect, and it is in its power to produce this effect or that, so that it is indifferent to either. Therefore, it belongs to divine providence to preserve the freedom of the will more than contingency in natural causes.

Moreover. It belongs to divine providence to use things according to their mode, and the mode of a thing’s action is in keeping with its form which is the principle of action. Now the form through which a voluntary agent acts is not determinate, because the will acts through a form apprehended by the intellect, since the apprehended good moves the will objectively; and the intellect has not one determinate form of the effect, but is of such a nature as to understand a multitude of forms, so that the will is able to produce manifold effects. Therefore, it does not belong to divine providence to exclude freedom of the will.

Again. The things governed are brought to a becoming end by the government of providence. Hence Gregory of Nyssa says of divine providence that it is God’s will from which all existing things receive a fitting end.¹ Now the last end of every creature is to attain to God’s likeness, as we proved above.² It would therefore be inconsistent with divine providence if any thing were deprived of that whereby it attains to a likeness to God. But the voluntary agent attains to God’s likeness in that he acts freely, for we have proved that there is free will in God.³ Therefore, providence does not deprive the will of liberty.

Besides. Providence multiplies good things among the subjects of its government. Therefore, any thing that would deprive things of many good things does not belong to providence. Now if the will were deprived of freedom, many good things would be done away with. For no praise would be given to human virtue, since virtue would be of no account if man acted not freely. There would be no justice in rewarding or punishing, if man were not free in acting well or ill. There would be no prudence in taking advice, which would be of no use if things occurred of necessity. Therefore, it would be inconsistent with providence to deprive the will of liberty.

Hence it is said: It was God who created man in the beginning, and he left him in the power of his own counsel (Sir 15:14); and again: Before man is life and death, good and evil, that which he shall choose shall be given him (Sir 15:17[18]).

Hereby we refute the opinion of the Stoics who held that all things happen of necessity according to the order of infallible causes, which order the Greeks called eimarmevn.

That divine providence does not exclude chance or luck

It is also evident from what has been said that divine providence does not remove from the world chance and luck.

Chance and luck are said of things that happen seldom. If nothing happened seldom, all things would happen of necessity, because those things that happen more frequently than not differ from necessary things in this alone: that they may possibly fail in a few instances. Now it would be inconsistent with divine providence if all things happened of necessity, as we proved above.¹ Therefore, it would also be inconsistent with divine providence if there were no luck or chance in the world.

Again. It would be contrary to the nature of providence if things subject to providence were not to act for an end, since it is the part of providence to direct all things to their end, and again it would be contrary to the perfection of the universe were there nothing corruptible, nor any defectible power, as we proved above.¹ Now it is owing to the fact that an agent acting for the sake of some end fails to attain that end that certain things happen by chance. Therefore, it would be contrary to the nature of providence, and to the perfection of the world, if nothing happened by chance.

Besides. The number and variety of causes result from the ordering of divine providence and disposition. Now given a diversity of causes, it must happen sometimes that one concurs with another, so that one is either hindered or assisted in producing its effect. Now chance occurrences are due to the concurrence of two or more causes, through some end which was not intended ensuing from the concurrence of some cause: for instance, the finding of his debtor by one who went to market to buy something resulted from the debtor also going to market. Therefore, it is not incompatible with divine providence that there be luck and chance in things.

Moreover. That which is not cannot be the cause of any thing. Hence a thing must have the same relation to being a cause as to existing. Therefore, the diversity of order in causes must be in keeping with diversity of order among things. Now it belongs to the perfection of things not only that there be some that are beings essentially, but that there be also some accidental beings. For things which do not have their ultimate perfection in their substance must acquire some perfection by means of accidents, which accidents will be all the more numerous as the things themselves are more distant from God’s simplicity. Now if a subject has many accidents, it follows that it is a being accidentally, since subject and accident (or again two accidents in one subject) are one accidentally: for instance, a white man, and a musical white thing. Therefore, the perfection of the world requires that there should be also accidental causes. But that which results accidentally from a cause is said to occur by chance or by luck. Therefore, it is not inconsistent with providence that certain things happen by chance or luck.

Hence it is said: I saw that the race is not to the swift . . . but time and chance happen to them all (Eccl 9:11), namely, here below.

That divine providence is concerned with singular contingencies

From what we have proved it is evident that divine providence reaches to each individual among things subject to generation and corruption.

Apparently the only reason for excluding such things from providence would be their contingent nature, and the fact that many of them are chance or lucky occurrences. In this alone do they differ from incorruptibles and from the universals of corruptible things, with which it is said that providence is concerned. Now providence is not inconsistent with contingency, chance, and luck, as neither is it with voluntary action, as we have proved.¹ There is no reason, therefore, why providence should not be about such things, even as it is about incorruptibles and universals.

Besides. If God’s providence does not extend to these singular things, this is either because he knows them not, or because he is unable or unwilling to care for them. But it cannot be said that God does not know singulars, since we have proved that he has knowledge of them.¹ Nor can it be said that God is unable to care for them, since his power is infinite, as we proved above;² nor that these singulars are incapable of being governed, since we see them to be governed by the purposeful activity of reason (as evidenced in man), or by natural instinct (as evidenced in bees and many dumb animals, which are governed by a kind of natural instinct). Nor can it be said that God is unwilling to govern them: for his will is the universal cause of all good, and the good of things governed consists chiefly in the order of government. Therefore, it cannot be said that God has no care for these singulars.

Besides. Every secondary cause, by the mere fact of its being a cause, attains to a likeness to God, as was proved above.¹ It is to be universally observed that things which are productive have the care of the things they produce—thus animals naturally nourish their offspring. Therefore, God has care of the things of which he is the cause. Now he is the cause even of these singulars, as was proved above.² Therefore, he has care of them.

Further. It was proved above¹ that God acts on created things not from natural necessity, but by his will and intellect. Now things that are done by will and intellect are subject to providence, which apparently consists in ruling things by the intellect. Consequently, the things done by God are subject to his providence. But it has been proved² that God works in all second causes, and that all effects of things are to be referred to God as their cause, so that whatever is done in these individuals is his own work. Consequently, these individual things, their movements and operations, are subject to divine providence.

If, however, someone say that God cares for these individuals so far as to preserve them in existence, but no further, this is quite impossible, since whatever else happens in regard to individuals concerns their preservation or corruption. Consequently, if God cares for individuals as to their preservation, he cares also for whatever happens to them.

Yet someone might say that the mere care of universals suffices for the preservation of individuals in existence, since each species is provided with the means of self-preservation for each individual of that species. Thus animals were given organs for taking and digesting food, and horns for self-protection; the use of these organs does not fail except in the minority, since that which is of nature produces its effect either always or more frequently. And so all the individuals could not cease to exist, although some might.

But, according to this way of reasoning, whatever happens to individuals will be subject to providence, even as their preservation in being, because nothing can happen to the individual member of a species that cannot in some way be referred to the principles of that species. Accordingly, individuals are not subject to divine providence as to their preservation in existence more than in other matters.

Again. The difference between speculative and practical knowledge is that speculative knowledge and things connected with it are perfected in the universal, whereas things pertaining to practical knowledge are perfected in the particular. For the end of speculative knowledge is truth, which consists first and of its very nature in immaterial and universal things, whereas the end of practical knowledge is operation which is about individual things. Hence the physician does not heal a man in general, but this particular man, and the whole of medical science is directed to this. Now it is clear that providence belongs to practical knowledge, since it directs things to their end. Therefore, God’s providence would be imperfect if it extended no further than universals, and reached not the individual.

Besides. Speculative knowledge is perfected in the universal rather than in the particular, because universals are known better than individuals; thus the knowledge of the most universal principles is common to all. Yet he is more perfect in speculative knowledge who possesses not only universal but also proper knowledge of things; since he who knows a thing merely in general knows it only potentially. For this reason the disciple is led from the general knowledge of principles to the proper knowledge of conclusions by the master, who is possessed of both knowledges, just as a thing is brought from potency to act by that which is in act. All the more, therefore, he is more perfect in practical knowledge who directs things to act not only in general, but also in particular. Consequently, divine providence, being supremely perfect, extends to individuals.

Moreover. Since God is the cause of being as such, as we proved above,¹ it follows that his providence must care for being as such, since he governs things inasmuch as he is their cause. Therefore, whatever exists, no matter in what way it exists, is subject to his providence. Now individuals are beings, and more so than universals, because universals do not exist by themselves, but only in individuals. Therefore, divine providence is concerned about individuals also.

Further. Creatures are subject to divine providence as being directed thereby to their end, which is the divine goodness. Therefore, participation in the divine goodness by creatures is the work of divine providence. But even contingent singulars participate in the divine goodness. Therefore, divine providence must extend to them also.

Hence it is said: Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground without your Father’s will (Matt 10:29), and: She reaches mightily from one end to the other (Wis 8:1), that is, from the highest creatures to the lowest. Moreover, the opinion is refuted of some who said: The Lord has forsaken the land, and the Lord does not see (Ezek 9:9), and of those who asserted: He does not see, and he walks on the vault of heaven (Job 22:14).

Hereby is refuted the opinion of some who maintained that divine providence does not extend to these individual things: an opinion ascribed by some to Aristotle, although it cannot be gathered from his words.

That God’s providence cares for all individuals immediately

Now some have granted that divine providence reaches these individual things, but through certain intermediary causes. For Plato, according to Gregory of Nyssa,¹ posited a threefold providence. The first is that of the supreme god, who cares first and foremost for his own—that is, spiritual and intellectual beings—and consequently for the whole world as regards genera, species, and the universal causes (which are the heavenly bodies). The second consists in the care of individual animals and plants and other things subject to generation and corruption, in the matter of their generation, corruption and other changes. This providence Plato ascribed to the gods who wander about heaven; while Aristotle² ascribes the causality of such things to the oblique circle. The third providence he places over things concerning human life; he ascribes it to certain demons who dwell in the neighbourhood of the earth and, according to him, are in charge of human actions. Yet, according to Plato, the second and third providence depend on the first, because the supreme God appointed those of the second and third class as governors.

This opinion accords with the Catholic faith, insofar as it refers universal providence to God as its first author. But it would seem contrary to the faith in that it denies that every individual thing is immediately subject to divine providence. This may be proved from what has been already laid down.

For God has immediate knowledge of individuals not merely as knowing them in their causes, but also in themselves, as we proved in the first book.¹ Now it would seem unreasonable if, knowing individuals, he did not desire their order, in which the chief good of things consists, since his will is the source of all goodness. Consequently, even as he knows individuals immediately, so does he establish order among them immediately.

Again. The order established by providence in the things governed is derived from the order conceived in the mind of the governor: even as the art-form that is produced in matter is derived from that which is in the mind of the craftsman. Now where there are several in charge, one subordinate to another, the higher must deliver to the inferior the order he has conceived, just as a subordinate art receives its principles from the higher. Accordingly, supposing the governors of the second and third rank to be under the chief governor who is the supreme God, it follows that they must receive from the supreme God the order to be established among things. But this order cannot be more perfect in them than in the supreme God: in fact, all perfections proceed from him into other things in descending order, as we proved above.¹ And the order of things must be in the governors of the second rank, not only in general, but also as to the individual: else they would be unable to establish order in individuals by their providence. Much more, therefore, is the order of individuals under the control of divine providence.

Besides. In things ruled by human providence, it is to be observed that a head overseer has charge of general matters of great importance, and by himself devises what arrangements to make with regard to them, while he himself does not trouble about the order of minor affairs, but leaves this to others lower than himself. And this is owing to a defect on his part, inasmuch as he ignores the conditions of particular matters of less importance, or is himself incompetent to decide the order of every thing, on account of the labor and delay required for the purpose. But such defects are far removed from God: for he knows all individual things, nor does he require labor or time in order to understand them; since by understanding himself, he knows all other things, as we proved above.¹ Therefore, he himself devises the order of all individuals, and his providence is concerned about all individuals immediately.

Moreover. In human affairs the inferior officials by their own skill devise the ordering of the things subjected to their government by the chief governor. This skill they do not receive from the chief, nor its use: for if they received it from the chief, the ordering would be done by the superior, and they would no longer be devisers of this ordering but executors. Now, from what has been said¹ it is clear that all wisdom and understanding is caused in every intellect by the supreme God: nor can any intellect understand except by God’s power, even as neither does any agent act except insofar as it acts by God’s power. Therefore, God himself cares for all things immediately by his providence, and whoever is said to govern under him is the executor of his providence.

Moreover. The higher governor always has the right to judge of the arrangements made by the lower governors, whether they be fitting or not. Consequently, if the second or third governors are subordinate to God the chief governor, it follows that God judges of the arrangements made by them: this would be impossible if God considered not the ordering of these individual matters. Therefore, he personally cares for individuals by himself.

Again. If God does not care for these lower individuals immediately by himself, this is either because he despises them or, as some say, lest his dignity should be besmirched by them. But this is unreasonable. For there is more dignity in providing for and planning the ordering of things than operating in them. Consequently, if God works in all things, as was proved above,¹ and this—far from being derogatory to his dignity—on the contrary belongs to his all-pervading and supreme power, it is in no way contemptible in him, nor does it besmirch his dignity if his providence extends to these individual things immediately.

Further. Every wise man who uses his power providently moderates that use in his actions by directing the purpose and extent of that use: else his power would not follow his wisdom. Now it is clear from what has been said that divine providence extends in its operations to the lowest things. Consequently, divine providence directs which and how many effects are to result from its power, and how they are to result from it, even in the very lowest of things. Therefore, God himself immediately plans the ordering of all things by his providence.

Hence it is said: Those that exist have been instituted by God (Rom 13:1), and: You have done these things and those that went before and those that followed; you have designed the things that are now, and those that are to come (Jdt 9:5).

That the execution of divine providence is carried out by secondary causes

It must be observed that two things are required for providence: the order and the execution of the order. The first is the work of the cognitive power; hence those that are more perfect in knowledge are said to order others, for it belongs to the wise man to order. The second is the work of the operative power. Now these two are in inverse proportion to each other. For the ordering is the more perfect according as it extends to the smallest things, whereas the execution of the least things belongs to the lower power proportionate to the effect. In God, we find the highest perfection as to both, since in him is the most perfect wisdom in ordering, and the most perfect power for operation. Consequently, it is he who by his wisdom disposes all things, even the very least, in their order, and who executes the least or lowest things by means of other inferior powers, through which he operates as a universal and higher power through an inferior and particular power. It is fitting, therefore, that there should be inferior active powers to execute divine providence.

Again. It was proved above¹ that the divine operation does not exclude the operations of secondary causes. And whatever is effected by the operations of secondary causes is subject to divine providence, since God directs all individual things by himself, as was proved above.² Therefore, secondary causes execute divine providence.

Besides. The stronger the power of an agent, the further does its operation extend: thus the greater the fire, the more distant things does it heat. But this is not the case with an agent that does not act through an intermediary, because everything on which it acts is close to it. Since, then, the power of divine providence is supreme, it must bring its operation to bear on the most distant things through certain intermediaries.

Further. It belongs to the dignity of a ruler to have many ministers and various executors of his rule, because the greater the number of his subordinates of various degrees, the more complete and extensive is his dominion shown to be. But no government can compare with the divine in point of dignity. Therefore, it is fitting that the execution of divine providence be committed to agents of various degrees.

Again. The order of causes excels the order of effects even as the cause excels the effect: consequently, it is a greater proof of the perfection of providence. Now if there were no intermediary causes to execute divine providence, there would be no order of causes in the world, but of effects only. Therefore, the perfection of divine providence requires intermediary causes for its fulfilment.

Hence it is written in the Psalm: Bless the Lord, all his hosts, his ministers that do his will (Ps 103[102]:21); and: Fire and hail, snow and frost, stormy wind fulfilling his command (Ps 148:8).

Providence and intellectual creatures

That by means of intellectual creatures other creatures are ruled by God

Since it belongs to divine providence that order be preserved in the world, and suitable order consists in a proportionate descent from the highest to the lowest, divine providence must reach the most distant things according to a certain proportion. This proportion consists in this: just as the highest creatures are subject to God and governed by him, so the lower creatures are subject to and governed by the higher. Now of all creatures the highest is the intellectual, as was proved above.¹ Therefore, the very nature of divine providence demands that the remaining creatures be ruled by rational creatures.

Again. Whatever creature executes the order of divine providence does so insofar as it has a share of the power of the supreme providence, even as the instrument has no movement except insofar as it has a share in the power of the principal agent through being moved. Accordingly, those things which have the larger share of the power of divine providence are the executors of divine providence in regard to those whose share is smaller. Now intellectual creatures have a greater share of this than others because, while providence requires disposition of order (which is effected by the cognitive faculty), and execution (which is the work of the operative power), rational creatures have a share of both powers, whereas other creatures have only the latter. Therefore, all other creatures are ruled by rational creatures, under divine providence.

Moreover. To whomsoever God gives a power, it is given in relation to the effect of that power: for all things are disposed of in the best way when each one is directed to all the goods that it has a natural aptitude to produce. Now the intellective power by its very nature is a directive and governing faculty. Hence we see that when they are united in the one subject, the operative power follows the ruling of the intellective power, as in man the limb moves at the will’s command. The same may be seen also if they be in different subjects, since those men who excel in the operative power need to be directed by those who excel in the intellective faculty. Therefore, the nature of divine providence requires that other creatures be ruled by intellectual creatures.

Again. Particular powers are naturally adapted to be moved by universal powers, as may be seen both in art and in nature. Now it is evident that the intellective power is more universal than any other operative power, because it contains universal forms, whereas all operative powers proceed only from a form proper to the operator. Therefore, all other creatures must be moved and ruled by intellectual powers.

Further. That which is of itself is the cause of that which is by another. Now intellectual creatures alone operate of themselves, since they are masters of their own actions through having free will, whereas other creatures operate through natural necessity, as being moved by another. Therefore, intellectual creatures by their operations move and rule other creatures.

That the lower intellectual substances are ruled by the higher

Since some intellectual creatures are higher than others, as we have shown,¹ the lower intellectual nature must be governed by the higher.

Again. The more universal powers move the particular powers, as already stated.¹ And the higher intellectual natures have more universal forms, as we have proved.² Therefore, they rule the lower intellectual natures.

Besides. The intellective faculty that is nearer to the principle is always found to be the ruler of the intellectual faculty that is more distant from the principle: this is evident both in speculative and in practical science. For the speculative science that receives its principles of demonstration from another is said to be subalternate to it, and the practical science that is nearer to the end, which is the principle in practical matters,¹ is the master science in comparison with the more distant. Since, then, some intellectual substances are nearer to the first principle (namely, God), as we have shown,² they will be the rulers of the others.

Moreover. The higher intellectual substances receive the influence of divine wisdom more perfectly, since each one receives something according to its mode. Now all things are governed by divine wisdom, so that those which have the greater share of divine wisdom govern those which have the smaller share. Therefore, the lower intellectual substances are governed by the higher.

Therefore, the higher spirits are called angels, inasmuch as they direct the lower spirits as though by message (for angels are called messengers). They are also called ministers, insofar as by their operation they execute the order of divine providence even in corporeal things, because a minister is like an animate instrument, according to the Philosopher.¹ This is what is said in the Psalm: Who makes your angels spirits, and your ministers a burning fire (Ps 104[103]:4).

Since corporeal things are governed by spiritual, as we have proved,¹ and since there is order of a kind among corporeal things, it follows that the higher bodies are governed by the higher intellectual substances, and the lower bodies by the lower intellectual substances. And seeing that the higher a substance is, the more universal is its power, while the power of an intellectual substance is more universal than the power of a body, the higher intellectual substances have powers entirely independent of any corporeal power. Consequently, they are not united to bodies. But the lower intellectual substances have powers confined to certain limits and dependent on certain corporeal organs for their exercise, and consequently they need to be united to bodies.

And just as the higher intellectual substances have a more universal power, so too they receive from God more perfectly the divine disposal of things in that they are acquainted with the scheme of order, even as regards individuals, through receiving it from God. This manifestation of the divine governance made by God reaches to the uttermost intellectual substances: thus it is said: Is there any number to his armies? Upon whom does his light not arise? (Job 25:3). On the other hand, the lower intelligences do not receive this manifestation so perfectly as to be able to know thereby every detail of the order of divine providence left to their execution, but only in a general way. The lower their position, the less detailed knowledge of the divine government do they receive through this first manifestation received from above; so much so that the human intellect, which is the lowest in point of natural knowledge, has a knowledge of only certain most general things.

Accordingly, the higher intellectual substances receive immediately from God the perfection of the knowledge in question, which perfection the other lower intellectual substances need to receive through them: just as we have said above¹ that the general knowledge of the disciple is brought to perfection by means of the specific knowledge of the master.

Hence it is that Dionysius speaking of the highest intellectual substances, which he assigns to the first hierarchy or holy sovereignty, says that they are not sanctified by means of other substances, but that they are placed by God himself immediately around him, and as far as possible close to his immaterial and incomprehensible beauty on which they gaze, and in which they contemplate the intelligible concept of his works; and by these, he says, the inferior ranks of heavenly substances are instructed.¹ Accordingly, the higher intelligences receive their perfection from a higher source of knowledge.

Now in every disposition of providence, the order of effects is derived from the form of agents, since the effect must proceed from its cause in some kind of likeness. Now it is for the sake of an end that the cause communicates the likeness of its form to the effect. Hence the first principle in the dispositions of providence is the end; the second is the form of the agent; the third is the appointment of the order of effects. Consequently, in the order of the intellect the highest degree is the consideration of the idea of order in the end; the second degree is the same consideration in the form; while the third is the knowledge of the disposition of order in itself and not in a higher principle. Therefore, the art which considers the end governs the art which considers the form, as the art of sailing governs the art of shipbuilding. And the art which considers the form governs the art which considers only the order of movements which prepare the way for the form, as the art of shipbuilding governs the handiwork of the builders.

Accordingly, there is a certain order among the intelligences who take from God himself immediate and perfect cognizance of the order of divine providence. The first and highest perceive the ordered scheme of providence in the last end itself which is the divine goodness, some of them, however, clearer than others; and these are called ‘seraphim,’ that is, fiery or setting on fire, because fire is used to designate intensity of love or desire, which are about the end. Hence Dionysius says that this name indicates both their fervent and quivering activity towards God, and their leading lower things to God as their end.¹

The second place belongs to those who acquire perfect knowledge of the scheme of providence in the divine form. These are called ‘cherubim,’ which signifies fullness of knowledge, for knowledge is made complete through the form of the thing known. Hence Dionysius says that their name indicates that they contemplate the highest operative power of the divine beauty.¹

The third grade is of those who contemplate the disposition of divine judgements in itself. They are called ‘thrones,’ because the throne is significative of judicial power, according to the Psalm: You have sat on the throne, giving righteous judgment (Ps 9:5). Hence Dionysius says that this name signifies that they are God-bearers and adapted for the obedient fulfilment of all divine undertakings.¹

What has been said must, however, be understood not as though the divine goodness, essence, and knowledge of the disposition of things were three distinct things, but in the sense that, according to what we have been saying, we may look at the matter in question from different points of view.

Again, there must be order among even the lower spirits, who receive from the higher spirits perfect knowledge of the divine order to be fulfilled by them. For the higher ones are also more universal in their power of understanding, so that they acquire their knowledge of the order of providence from more universal principles and causes, but those beneath them from more particular causes. For a man who could consider the entire physical order in the heavenly bodies would be of a higher intelligence than one who needed to turn his mind to lower things in order to perfect his knowledge. Accordingly, those who are able to know perfectly the order of providence from the universal causes which stand midway between God (the supremely universal cause) and particular causes are themselves between those who are able to consider the aforesaid order in God himself, and those who need to consider it in particular causes. Dionysius assigns these to the middle hierarchy, which he says governs the lowest even as it is governed by the highest.¹

Again, among these intellectual substances there must also be some kind of order, since the universal disposition of providence is divided first among many executors. This belongs to the order of ‘dominations,’ because to command what others execute belongs to one having dominion. Hence Dionysius says that the name of domination signifies a certain liberty free from servile condition and any subjection.¹

Second, it is distributed by the operator and executor in reference to many effects. This is done by the order of ‘virtues,’ whose name, as Dionysius says in the same passage, designates a certain strength and virility in carrying out the divine operations, without so much as swerving, through weakness, from the divine movement. Hence it is evident that the principle of universal operation belongs to this order. Thus it also seems the movement of the heavenly bodies belongs to this order, from which particular effects ensue in nature as from universal causes. Thus they are called ‘powers of heaven,’ where it is said: The powers of the heavens will be moved (Luke 21:26). To the same spirits apparently belongs the execution of those divine works which are done outside the order of nature, for these are the highest of God’s ministries: for which reason Gregory says that the virtues are those spirits through whom miracles are frequently wrought.¹ And if there be anything else of a universal and prominent nature in the fulfilment of the divine ministry, it is fittingly ascribed to this order.

Third, the universal order of providence, once established in its effects, is guarded from confusion by curbing the things which might disturb that order. This belongs to the order of ‘powers.’ Hence Dionysius says in the same place that the name of powers implies a well-established order, without confusion, in the divine undertakings. And so Gregory says that it belongs to this order to check contrary powers.¹

The lowest of superior intellectual substances are those who receive the knowledge of the order of divine providence in relation to particular causes: these are placed in immediate authority over human affairs. Of them Dionysius says: This third rank of spirits presides, in consequence, over the human hierarchy.¹ By human affairs we must understand all lower natures and particular causes that are subordinated to man and serve for his use, as we have already explained.²

Among these also there is a certain order. For in human affairs there is a common good, namely, the good of the city or of the nation,¹ and this apparently belongs to the order of ‘principalities.’ Hence Dionysius says in the same chapter that the name of principality indicates leadership in a sacred order. Hence mention is made of Michael, the prince of the Jews, and of the prince of the Persians, and of the prince of the Greeks (Dan 10:13, 20). And thus the government of kingdoms and the change of supremacy from one nation to another must belong to the ministry of this order. It would also seem part of their office to instruct those men who are in positions of authority in matters pertaining to the administration of their office.

There is also a human good not common to many, but belonging to an individual by himself, yet useful not to one only, but to many: for instance, those things which all and each one must believe and observe, such as the articles of faith, the divine worship, and the like. This belongs to the ‘archangels’ of whom Gregory says that they announce the greater things:¹ thus we call Gabriel an archangel because he announced the Incarnation of the Word to the Virgin, which is an article of faith for all.

There is also a human good that belongs to each one singly. This pertains to the order of ‘angels’ of whom Gregory says that they announce minor matters. Hence they are called ‘guardian angels’ according to the Psalm: He will give his angels charge of you to guard you in all your ways (Ps 91[90]:11). Hence Dionysius says¹ that the archangels are between the principalities and angels, because they have something in common with both. With the principalities, inasmuch as they lead the lower angels, and rightly so, because in human affairs matters of restricted interest must be regulated according to those that are of common interest. And with the angels, because they announce to the angels, and to us through the angels, for it is the duty of the latter to announce to men what concerns each individual. For this reason the lowest order has received the name common to all as its proper one, namely, because its duty is to announce to us immediately. And so the name ‘archangel’ is as it were composed of both, since archangel means a ‘principal angel.’

Gregory assigns the ordering of the heavenly spirits differently:¹ for he places the principalities among the spirits of the second rank, immediately after the dominations, and the virtues among the lowest, above the archangels. But to one who considers the matter carefully, the difference is but small. For, according to Gregory, the principalities are not placed over nations but over good spirits, as holding the principal place in the execution of the divine ministry, because he says that to be a principal is to stand in a higher place than others. According to the explanation given above, we said that this belonged to the virtues. As to the virtues, according to Gregory they are assigned to certain particular operations when, in some special case, outside the usual order of things, miracles have to be wrought. In this way, they are fittingly numbered among the lowest angels.

Both explanations have the authority of the Apostle. For he says: Setting him, namely Christ, on his right hand in heavenly places, above all principality, and power, and virtue, and dominion (Eph 1:20–21), where it is clear that in the ascending order he places the powers above the principalities, and the virtues above these, and the dominations above the last named. This is the order adopted by Dionysius. Whereas speaking of Christ to the Colossians he says: Whether thrones or dominations or principalities or powers, all things were created through him and for him (Col 1:16). Here we see that beginning with the thrones, in the descending order, he places the dominations under them, beneath these the principalities, and lower still the powers. This is the order adopted by Gregory.

Mention is made of the seraphim (Isa 6:2, 6); of the cherubim (Ezek 1:3); of the archangels in the canonical epistle of Jude: The archangel Michael, contending with the devil, disputed about the body of Moses (Jude 9:9); and of the angels in the Psalms, as already observed.

In all ordered powers there is this in common: the lower all work by virtue of the higher. Hence all the lower angels accomplish by virtue of the seraphim what we have stated as belonging to the order of seraphim, and the same applies to the other orders.

In comparison with other intellectual substances, the human soul holds the lowest place, because, as we have already stated,¹ when it is first created it receives knowledge of the order of divine providence only in a general way; but in order to acquire perfect knowledge of that order in individual matters, it needs to start from these very things in which the order of divine providence is already established in detail. Consequently, the human soul needs bodily organs so as to be able to receive knowledge from things having bodies. And yet, on account of the weakness of its intellectual light, it is unable to acquire perfect knowledge of things that concern man without the help of higher spirits, God so disposing that the lower spirits reach perfection through the higher, as we have already proved.² Since, however, man has some share of intellectual light, dumb animals (which have none at all) are subject to man, according to the order of divine providence. Hence it is said: Let us make man in our image, after our likeness, that is to say, inasmuch as he is an intelligent being, let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the beasts of the earth³ (Gen 1:26).

Dumb animals, though bereft of intellect, are yet placed by the order of divine providence above plants and other things devoid of knowledge, since they have some kind of knowledge. Hence it is said: Behold, I have given you every plant yielding seed which is upon the face of the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food, and to every beast of the earth (Gen 1:29–30).

Among those that are wholly bereft of knowledge, one thing is placed before another according as one is more capable of action than another. For they have no share in the disposition of providence, but only in the execution.

And since man has both intelligence, and sense, and bodily powers, these things are dependent on one another according to the disposition of divine providence, in likeness to the order to be observed in the universe. For bodily power is subject to the powers of sense and intellect, as carrying out their commands, and the sensitive power is subject to the intellective, and is controlled by its rule.

In the same way, we find order among men. For those who excel in intelligence are naturally rulers, whereas those who are less intelligent, but strong in body, seem made by nature for service, as Aristotle says in his Politics.¹ The statement of Solomon is in agreement with this: The fool will be servant to the wise (Prov 11:29); as also the words of Exodus: Choose wise² men from all the people . . . and let them judge the people at all times (Exod 18:21–22).

And just as in the works of one man, there is disorder through the intellect following the sensual faculty, while the sensual faculty, through indisposition of the body, is drawn to the movement of the body, as instanced in those who limp: so too, in human government disorder results from a man being set in authority not on account of his excelling in intelligence, but because he has usurped the government by bodily force, or has been appointed to rule through motives of sensual affection. Nor does Solomon omit to mention this disorder, for he says: There is an evil which I have seen under the sun, as it were an error proceeding from the ruler: folly is set in many high places (Eccl 10:5–6). Now divine providence does not exclude a disorder of this kind: for it results, by God’s permission, from the fault of the inferior agents; even as we have said of other evils.¹ Nor is the natural order wholly perverted by such a disorder: for the government of fools is weak, unless it be strengthened by the counsels of the wise. Hence it is said: Plans are established by counsel; by wise guidance wage war (Prov 20:18); and: A wise man is strong, and a knowing man, stout and valiant: for by wise guidance you can wage your war, and in abundance of counselors there is victory (Prov 24:5–6). And since the counsellor rules him who receives his counsel, and governs him in a sense, it is said that a slave who deals wisely will rule over foolish sons (Prov 17:2).

It is therefore evident that divine providence imposes order on all things, and thus the Apostle says truly that the things which are of God are well ordered¹ (Rom 13:1).

That the inferior bodies are ruled by God by means of the heavenly bodies

Just as in intellectual substances some are of higher and some of lower degree, so too are there in corporeal substances. Now intellectual substances are governed by higher substances, so that the disposition of divine providence may reach down proportionately to the lowest things, as we have already said.¹ Therefore, in like manner, bodies of lower degree are ruled by those of a higher.

Again. The higher a body is as regards its place, the more formal it is: hence it is reasonably the place of a lower body, because form contains even as place does. Thus water is more formal than earth, air than water, fire than air. Now the heavenly bodies have a higher place than all others. Therefore, they are more formal and consequently more active than all other bodies. Therefore, they act on lower bodies: consequently, the latter are ruled by them.

Besides. That which in its nature is perfect without contrariety is of more universal power than that which in its nature is not perfected without contrariety, because contrariety arises from differences which determine and contract the genus. Hence in the conception of the intellect, insofar as it is universal, the species of contraries are not contrary to one another, since they coexist in the intellect. Now the heavenly bodies are perfect in their respective natures without any contrariety, for they are neither light nor heavy, neither hot nor cold; but the inferior bodies are not perfect in their respective natures without any contrariety. This is proved by their movements, for there is no contrary to the circular movement of the heavenly bodies, so that there can be nothing violent in them; whereas there are movements contrary to that of the lower bodies (for instance, downward movement is contrary to upward movement). Therefore, heavenly bodies have a more universal power than the inferior bodies. Now universal powers move particular powers, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, the heavenly bodies move and govern lower bodies.

Moreover. We have shown¹ that all other things are ruled by intellectual substances. Now the heavenly bodies resemble the intellectual substances more than other bodies do, insofar as they are incorruptible. Moreover, they are nearer to them inasmuch as they are moved by them immediately, as we have shown above.² Therefore, the lower bodies are ruled by them.

Again. In each genus the first is the cause of that which comes after.¹ Now the heavenly movement is the first of all movements. First, because local movement precedes all others, both in point of time, because it alone can be everlasting (as is proved in 8 Physics),² and naturally, because without it there could be no other. For a thing cannot be increased without a previous alteration by which what was dissimilar is transformed and assimilated. Nor can there be alteration without a previous change of place, since in order that there be alteration, the cause of alteration must become nearer to the subject altered than it was before. Likewise in perfection, because local movement does not cause a thing to vary in respect of something inherent, but only in respect of something extrinsic; for this reason it belongs to a thing already perfect.

Second, because even among local movements, circular movement holds the first place: both in point of time, because it alone can be everlasting, as proved in 8 Physics;¹ and naturally, because it excels in simplicity and unity, since it is not divided into beginning, middle and end, but is all middle, as it were. And in perfection, because it returns to its principle.

Third, because only the heavenly movement is always regular and uniform, since in the movements of heavy and light bodies the speed increases towards the end if the movement be natural, and decreases if the movement be violent. Therefore, the movement of the heaven must be the cause of all other movements.

Further. As that which is simply immovable is in comparison with movement simply, so is that which is immovable in respect of a particular kind of movement in comparison with that particular movement. Now that which is simply immovable is the principle of all movement, as we have proved. Therefore, that which is immovable in respect of alteration is the principle of all alteration. Now of all things corporeal the heavenly bodies alone are inalterable—this is proved by their disposition, which is always the same. Therefore, the heavenly body is the cause of alteration in all things alterable. But in this lower world alteration is the principle of all movement, because alteration leads to increase and generation, and the generator is of itself a mover in the local movement of heavy and light bodies. Consequently, the heaven must be the cause of all movement in these lower bodies.

Therefore, it is evident that the lower bodies are governed by God by means of the heavenly bodies.

Conclusion of the foregoing

From all that has been proved hitherto, we are able to conclude that as regards the design of the order to be imposed on things, God governs all things by himself.¹ Therefore, commenting on Job, What other has he appointed over the earth? (Job 34:13), Gregory says: He who created the world by himself governs it by himself.² And Boethius says: God rules all things by himself alone.³

As to the execution, however, he governs the lower by means of the higher things. He governs bodily things by means of spiritual things.¹ Hence Gregory says: In this visible world nothing can be ruled except by means of the invisible creature.² He governs the lower spirits by the higher.³ Hence Dionysius says that the intelligent heavenly substances first of all shed forth the divine enlightenment on themselves, and bestow on us those manifestations which surpass our capacity.⁴ And he governs the lower bodies by the higher.⁵ Hence Dionysius says that the sun contributes to the generation of visible bodies, as also to life itself, by means of nourishment, growth and perfection, by cleansing and renewing them.⁶

Of all these together Augustine says: As the grosser and lower bodies are ruled in a certain orderly way by bodies of greater subtlety and power, so all bodies are ruled by the rational spirit of life, and the sinful rational spirit by the righteous rational spirit.¹

That the heavenly bodies do not impress on our intellect

From what has been said it is at once clear that the heavenly bodies cannot be the causes of things concerning our intellect. For it has already been shown¹ that the order of divine providence requires the lower things to be ruled and moved by the higher. Now the intellect, in the natural order, surpasses all bodies, as we have proved already.² Consequently, heavenly bodies cannot act directly on the intellect. Therefore, they cannot be the direct cause of things concerning the intellect.

Again. No body acts except through movement, as is proved in 8 Physics.¹ Now things that are immovable are not caused by movement, because nothing is the result of the movement of an agent except through the agent moving the patient, while the latter is moved. Consequently, things that are wholly outside movement cannot be caused by the heavenly bodies. But things concerning the intellect are wholly outside movement properly speaking, as the Philosopher states: In fact, the soul becomes prudent and wise through being free from movement.² It is not possible, therefore, that the heavenly bodies be the direct cause of things concerning the intellect.

Besides. If nothing be caused by a body except insofar as the latter causes movement through being moved, it follows that whatever receives an impression from a body must be moved. Now nothing is moved except a body, as is proved in 6 Physics.¹ Therefore, whatever receives an impression from a body must be either a body or a power of a body. But it was proved in the second book² that the intellect is neither a body nor a power of the body. Therefore, the heavenly bodies cannot directly make an impression on the intellect.

Further. Whatever is moved by a thing is reduced thereby from potency to act. Now nothing is reduced from potency to act except by something in act. Therefore, every agent and mover must be, in some way, in act with regard to those things to which the subject, passive or moved, is in potency. But the heavenly bodies are not actually intelligible, because they are singular sensibles. Since, then, our intellect is not in potency except to what is actually intelligible, it is impossible for the heavenly bodies to act directly on the intellect.

Moreover. A thing’s proper operation follows its nature, which generated things acquire by generation, together with their proper operation. This may be seen in heavy and light things, which have their proper movement as soon as they are generated, unless there be an obstacle, and for this reason the generator is said to be a mover.¹ Consequently, that which is not subject to the action of the heavenly bodies as regards the principle of its nature cannot be subject to them in respect of its operation. Now the intellective faculty is not caused by any bodily principles, but is entirely from an extrinsic source, as we proved above.² Therefore, the operation of the intellect is not directly subject to the heavenly bodies.

Again. Things caused by the heavenly movements are subject to time, which is the measure of the first heavenly movement.¹ Therefore, those that wholly abstract from time are not subject to heavenly movements. Now the intellect in its operation abstracts from time, as also from place: for it considers the universal which abstracts from here and now. Therefore, the operation of the intellect is not subject to heavenly bodies.

Further. Nothing acts outside its species. Now the act of the intellect transcends the species and form of any corporeal agent, since every corporeal form is material and individualized; but the act of the intellect is universal and immaterial. Consequently, no body can understand by means of its corporeal form. Much less, therefore, can any body whatsoever cause the act of intelligence in another.

Besides. A thing is not subject to that which is beneath it in respect of that by which it is united to things above it. Now our soul, inasmuch as it is intelligent, is united to intellectual substances, which in the order of nature are above heavenly bodies, because our soul cannot understand except insofar as it derives its intellectual light from those substances. Therefore, the intellectual operation cannot be directly subject to the heavenly movements.

Hence too followed the opinion of the Stoics, who said that the knowledge of the intellect is caused by images of bodies being imprinted on the mind like in a mirror, or like a page receives the imprinted characters without any action on its part (as Boethius relates).¹ According to this opinion, it followed that our intellectual knowledge was chiefly the result of impressions received from heavenly bodies: consequently, it was chiefly the Stoics who held that man’s life was bound by a kind of fatal necessity.

This opinion however is shown to be false, as Boethius says,¹ by the fact that the intellect is capable of synthesis and analysis, and compares the highest with the lowest, and is cognitive of universals and simple forms, none of which is within the capacity of bodies. Consequently, it is evident that the intellect does not merely receive the images of bodies, but is possessed of a power that transcends bodies: for the external senses, which receive only images of bodies, do not extend to the things mentioned above.

All subsequent philosophers, however, discerned intellect from sense, and assigned not bodies but immaterial things as the cause of our knowledge: thus Plato ascribed this to ideas, and Aristotle to the active intellect.

From all this we may gather that to say that the heavenly bodies are the cause of our knowledge is a sequel to the opinion of those who held that intellect differs not from sense, as Aristotle observes.¹ Now it is evident that this opinion is false. Therefore, the opinion of those who maintained that the heavenly bodies are the direct cause of our knowledge is manifestly false.

For this reason Sacred Scripture assigns as the cause of our knowledge, not a body, but God: Where is God my Maker, who gives songs in the night, who teaches us more than the beasts of the earth, and makes us wiser than the birds of the air? (Job 35:10–11). And in the Psalm: He who teaches men knowledge (Ps 94[93]:10).

Nevertheless, we must observe that although heavenly bodies cannot be the direct cause of our knowledge, they can cooperate indirectly towards it. For though the intellect is not a force of the body, yet in us the operation of the intellect cannot be exercised without the operation of bodily forces—namely, the imagination and the powers of memory and thought, as we have already shown.¹ Hence it is that when the activity of these powers is hampered by some bodily indisposition, the activity of the intellect is hampered also, as may be seen in cases of frenzy, lethargy and the like. For the same reason, goodness of disposition in a man’s body fits him to understand easily, inasmuch as those forces are strengthened by such a disposition. Hence it is said in 2 De Anima that it is to be observed that men of soft flesh are of quick intelligence.²

Now the disposition of the human body is subject to the heavenly movements. For Augustine says that it is not altogether absurd to ascribe the mere differences between bodies to the influence of the stars.¹ And Damascene says that the various planets produce in us various temperaments, habits and dispositions.² Consequently, the heavenly bodies cooperate indirectly to the goodness of our intelligence. Thus, even as physicians are able to judge of a man’s intelligence from his bodily temperament (as a proximate disposition to it), so too can an astrologer from the heavenly movements (as being a remote cause of this disposition). In this sense we can approve of the saying of Ptolemy: When Mercury is in one of Saturn’s houses at the time of a man’s birth, he bestows on him a quick intelligence of the inner nature of things.³

That the heavenly bodies are not the cause of our willing and choosing

It is also evident from the foregoing that the heavenly bodies are not the cause of our willing and choosing.

For the will is in the intellective part of the soul, according to the Philosopher.¹ Therefore, if the heavenly bodies cannot make a direct impression on our intellect, as we have proved,² neither will they be able to influence the will directly.

Moreover. Every act of choice or will in us is caused immediately through an intellectual apprehension, for the apprehended good is the object of the will.¹ Hence there cannot ensue perverseness of choice unless the judgment of the intellect err in the particular object of choice, as the Philosopher states.² But the heavenly bodies are not the cause of our intellectual apprehension. Therefore, neither can they be the cause of our choice.

Further. Whatever takes place in this lower world through the influence of heavenly bodies happens naturally, since the things here below are naturally subordinate to them. If, therefore, the heavenly bodies have any influence on our choice, this must happen naturally. Thus, in fact, man naturally chooses to perform his actions, even as dumb animals perform theirs from natural instinct, and as inanimate bodies are moved naturally. Consequently, there will not be two active principles—namely, purpose and nature—but only one—namely, nature. But Aristotle proves the contrary.¹ Therefore, it is untrue that the influence of heavenly bodies is the cause of our choice.

Again. Things which are done naturally for the most part are done rightly, since nature fails but seldom. Consequently, if man chose by nature, his choice would be right for the most part—which is clearly false. Therefore, man does not choose naturally. Yet this would be the case if his choice were subject to the influence of heavenly bodies.

Further. Things of the same species do not differ in those natural operations which result from the specific nature. Hence each swallow makes its nest in the same way, and every man equally understands the first principles which are known naturally. Now choosing is an operation that results from the human species. Consequently, if man chose naturally, all men would choose in the same way. This is evidently untrue, both in morals and in things made by art.

Moreover. Virtue and vice are proper principles of choice, because the virtuous and the vicious man differ through choosing contraries. Now civic virtues and vices are not in us by nature but by habituation. The Philosopher proves this¹ from the fact that we acquire the habit of those operations to which we are accustomed, especially from childhood. In us, therefore, choosing does not come from nature: consequently, it is not caused by the influence of heavenly bodies, in respect of which things happen naturally.

Again. Heavenly bodies make no direct impression except on bodies, as we have shown.¹ Consequently, if they are the cause of our choosing, this will be by an impression made either on our bodies, or on external bodies. Yet in neither way can they be a sufficient cause of our choosing. For the objective presentation of some corporeal thing cannot be an adequate cause of our choice, since it is clear that when a man meets with something that pleases him, be it meat or woman, the temperate man is not moved to choose these things, whereas the intemperate is. Again, no possible change wrought in our bodies by an impression of the heavenly bodies can suffice to cause us to make a choice, since all that results from those are certain passions, more or less impetuous. Passions, however turbulent, are not a sufficient cause of choosing, since the same passions lead the incontinent to follow them by choice, and fail to induce the continent man. Therefore, it must not be said that the heavenly bodies cause our choice.

Further. No faculty is bestowed without a purpose. Now man has the faculty of judging and counselling about all matters relative to his own actions, whether in the use of externals, or in giving a loose or a tight rein to our internal passions. But this would be of no use if our choice were the result of the heavenly bodies, and not in our own power. Therefore, the heavenly bodies are not the cause of our choice.

Moreover, laws and precepts of conduct would be useless were man not the master of his own choice: and useless too would be punishments and rewards for good and wicked, if it were not in our power to choose this or that. And yet, if there were not such things, there would be at once an end to social life. Consequently, man is not so made, according to the order of providence, that his choice should result from the movements of heavenly bodies.

Again. A man’s choice is of good and evil things. Hence, if our choosing is the result of the movements of the stars, it would follow that the stars are the essential cause of wicked deeds. But that which is evil has no natural cause, since evil is incidental to a defective cause, and has no essential cause, as we have proved.¹ Therefore, it is impossible that our choice be the direct and essential effect of the heavenly bodies.

Someone, however, might endeavor to meet this argument by saying that every evil choice results from the desire of some particular good, as we have proved above:¹ thus the choice of the lustful man arises from his desire for a good consisting in sexual pleasure, and some star causes movement to this good in general. In fact, this is necessary for the generating of animals, and this common good was not to be omitted on account of the particular evil of an individual, who through this instigation chooses an evil.

But this reply is not sufficient if we suppose the heavenly bodies to be the essential cause of our choice through making direct impressions on our intellect and will. For the impression made by a universal cause is received in a thing according to that thing’s mode. Consequently, the effect of a star which causes a movement towards the pleasure in the union ordered to generation will be received into a thing according to the mode proper to it: thus we see that various animals have various ways and various times of coming together, as becomes their nature, as Aristotle remarks.¹ Hence the intellect and will receive the impression of that star according to their mode. Now when a thing is desired according to the mode of the intellect and reason, there is no sin in the choice, which is always evil through not being according to right reason. Therefore, if the heavenly bodies were the cause of our choice, we should never make an evil choice.

Further. No active power extends to things above the species and nature of the agent, because every agent acts through its form. Now, to will, as also to understand, transcends every corporeal species, for just as our intellect understands the universal, so also is our will referred to the universal. For instance, we dislike every kind of thief, as the Philosopher says.¹ Therefore, the act of the will is not caused by a heavenly body.

Therefore, it is said: Be not dismayed at the signs of the heavens because the nations are dismayed at them, for the customs of the peoples are false (Jer 10:2–3).

We hereby refute the opinion of the Stoics,¹ who held that all our actions, even our every choice, are governed by the heavenly bodies. This is also said to have been the opinion of the Pharisees among the Jews of old.² And the Priscillianists were also guilty of this error, as stated in De Haeresibus.³

This was also the opinion of the ancient physicists, who held that intellect differs not from sense. Therefore Empedocles, as quoted by Aristotle, said that the will of man, like that of other animals, is strengthened presently¹ (that is, according to the present moment), by the movement of the heaven, which is the cause of time.

We must observe, however, that although heavenly bodies are not the direct cause of our choosing by making a direct impression on our will, nevertheless they do occasion our choice indirectly through making an impression on bodies. This happens in two ways. First, the impression made by a heavenly body on bodies other than our own may be an occasion of our making a particular choice. Thus when the air becomes intensely cold through the action of the heavenly bodies, we choose to warm ourselves by the fire, or to do something similarly befitting the time. Second, they may make impressions on our own body, and when the body is affected movements of the passions arise. This is either because such impressions make us liable to certain passions (for instance, the bilious are prone to anger), or because they produce in us a bodily disposition that occasions a particular choice (thus when we are ill, we choose to take medicine).

Also, the heavenly bodies are sometimes a cause of human acts when through an indisposition of the body a person goes out of his mind, and loses the use of reason. Such persons are not capable of choosing properly speaking, but they are moved by a natural instinct, like dumb animals. It is evident, however, and we know by experience, that such occasions (whether exterior or interior) are not a necessary cause of choice, since man can use his reason to reject or obey them. But those who follow their natural bent are in the majority, and few—merely the wise—are those who avoid the occasions of ill-doing and who follow not the impulse of nature. Hence Ptolemy says that the soul of the wise man assists the work of the stars;¹ and that the astrologer cannot read the stars unless he knows well the bent of the mind and the natural temperament, and that the astrologer should not express himself in detail but only in general terms. For the majority resist not their bodily disposition, and so the impression of the stars takes effect in them. But it is not always so in this or that individual who, maybe, uses his reason to resist that inclination.

That corporeal effects in this lower world do not result of necessity from the action of the heavenly bodies

Not only are the heavenly bodies unable to necessitate man’s choice, but even corporeal effects do not proceed from them of necessity.

For the impressions of universal causes are received by their effects according to the mode of the recipient. Now the things of this lower world are fluctuating and changeable, both by reason of matter which is in potency to several forms, and on account of the contrariety of forms and powers. Therefore, the impressions of heavenly bodies are not received of necessity by these lower bodies.

Again. A remote cause does not lead to a necessary result unless the middle cause be also necessary: in a syllogism, for instance, if the major premise be a necessary statement, and the minor a contingent statement, the conclusion that follows is not necessary. Now heavenly bodies are remote causes, and the proximate causes of the effects here below are the active and passive forces in the bodies of this lower world; and these are not necessary, but contingent causes, for they may fail in a few instances. Therefore, the heavenly bodies do not produce necessary effects in these lower bodies.

Moreover. Many contingencies do not make one necessary thing, since, just as each one of them by itself may fail in its effect, so too may all of them together. Now, it is evident that in these lower bodies each thing that happens through the influence of the heavenly bodies is a contingency. Therefore, the things that happen here below through the influence of heavenly bodies are not necessarily connected, since it is evident that each one of them may be hindered.

Further. The action of the heavenly bodies is in keeping with their nature, so that they require matter on which to act. Consequently, their action does not remove what is required by matter. Now the matter on which heavenly bodies act is the bodies of the lower world; since these are by nature corruptible, they can fail in action just as they can fail in being, so that their nature requires that they should not produce their effects of necessity. Therefore, the effects of heavenly bodies on the bodies of the lower world do not result of necessity.

Perhaps someone will say that the effects of heavenly bodies must necessarily follow, and yet potency is not therefore removed from this lower world, because each effect is in potency before it comes into being, and is then said to be possible. But when it is in act, it passes from potency to necessity, the whole of which process is subject to the heavenly movements. Consequently, a given effect is not prevented from having been possible at one time, although it is necessary that it result at some time. In fact, Albumasar strives thus to plead the cause of possibility, in the first book of his Introductorium.

But the case for possibility cannot be defended in this way. For there is one kind of possibility which follows from that which is necessary. For that which must be necessarily is possible; since what cannot possibly be is impossible, and that which is impossible necessarily is not. Consequently, what must necessarily be would also necessarily not be, which is impossible. Hence it is impossible that the same thing should be necessarily, and yet that at the same time it should be impossible for it to be. Therefore, possible being follows from necessary being.

But it is not this kind of possibility that we need defend in contradiction to the statement that effects result of necessity, but the possible which is contrary to necessary, in which sense we say that a thing may possibly be or not be. Now a thing is said to be possible or contingent not merely because it is at one time potential and at another time actual, as the foregoing reply supposes, since thus there is possibility and contingency even in the heavenly movements. For the sun and moon are not always actually in conjunction or opposition, but sometimes actually and sometimes potentially: yet these are necessary things, since such matters are subject to demonstration. But the possible or contingent that is contrary to the necessary is of such a nature that there is no necessity for it to be when it is not. And the reason for this is that it does not result necessarily from its cause. Thus we say that it is a contingency that Socrates will sit, whereas it is a necessity that he will die, because the latter results from its cause necessarily, and not the former. Consequently, if it follows necessarily from the movements of the heavenly bodies that their effects will result at some time, there will be nothing possible or contingent contrary to that which is necessary.

We must observe, however, that Avicenna, having a mind to prove that the effects of heavenly bodies result of necessity, offers the following argument.¹ If an effect of the heavenly bodies be hindered, this must be due to some cause either voluntary or natural. Now every cause, whether voluntary or natural, is reducible to some heavenly principle. Therefore, even the impediment to the heavenly bodies’ effect results from some heavenly principles. Consequently, if we take the whole heavenly order at once, it is impossible for its effect ever to fail. Hence he concludes that the heavenly bodies must necessarily produce effects in the lower things both voluntary and natural.

This argument, as Aristotle observes¹ was employed by some of the ancients who denied the existence of chance and luck, for the reason that every effect has its definite cause, and that given the cause the effect follows of necessity; so that, since everything happens necessarily, nothing can be referred to luck or chance.

He solves this argument by denying the two propositions on which it is based. One is that given any cause whatsoever, the effect must follow of necessity.¹ For this is not true of every cause, since even the essential, proper, and sufficient cause of a certain effect may be hindered through the clashing of another cause, so that it fails to produce that effect. The other proposition which he denies is that not everything that exists in any way whatever has an essential cause, but only that which exists of itself, and things which exist accidentally have no cause at all: for instance, that a man be musical is to be ascribed to a cause, but that he be musical as well as white is not due to any cause. For whatever things concur on account of a cause are mutually dependent by reason of that cause, whereas accidental things are not mutually dependent. Consequently they are not the result of an essentially active cause, but are merely an accidental result: thus it is accidental to the teacher of music that his pupil be a white man, since it is beside his intention, for his intention is to teach one who has an aptitude for music.

Accordingly, given any particular effect, we shall say that it had a cause from which it did not necessarily result, because it might have been hindered by the accidental concurrence of another cause. And although we may trace that concurrent cause to some higher cause, we cannot ascribe to any cause the concurrence itself that proved to be a hindrance. Consequently, we cannot say that the hindrance to this or that effect is to be traced to some heavenly principle. Therefore, we must not allow that the effects of heavenly bodies happen of necessity in this lower world.

Hence Damascene says in the second book that heavenly bodies do not cause the generation of things that are made, nor the corruption of things that are destroyed:¹ namely, because their effects do not follow of necessity.

Also, Aristotle says that many things betokened by corporeal things (even heavenly bodies), for instance, by water or wind, do not happen. For if a stronger movement arise than that which presaged the future, the latter fails in its effect. Even so we often renounce our first intent on account of other and better thoughts.¹

Ptolemy also says: Again, we must not think that the things which occur through the influence of higher beings are inevitable, like those which happen by divine decree and are altogether unavoidable, and such as do actually and necessarily occur.¹ He says again in the Centiloquium: These principles which I have given you are midway between the necessary and the possible.²

That the movement of a heavenly body is not the cause of our choosing by virtue of its soul moving us, as some say

We must observe, however, that Avicenna also¹ holds that the movements of the heavenly bodies are the causes of our choice not merely by being the occasion thereof,² but even as an essential cause. For he holds the heavenly bodies to be animate. Since the heaven’s movement proceeds from its soul, and is the movement of a body, it follows that just as it must have the power to transform bodies insofar as it is a body’s movement, so it must have the power to make impressions on our soul insofar as it comes from a soul. Thus the heavenly movement is the cause of our acts of will and choice. The position of Albumasar³ would seem to come to the same as expounded in the first book of his Introductorium.

But this position is unreasonable. For any effect that is caused by an agent through an instrument must be proportionate to the instrument as well as to the agent, for we do not employ any instrument for any effect. Consequently, it is not possible to produce by means of an instrument an effect which is utterly outside the scope of its action. Now it is altogether beyond the scope of a body’s action to impress the intellect or will, as proved above¹ (except perhaps indirectly by making an impression on the body, as we have said).² Therefore, it is impossible for a heavenly body’s soul, if it have one, to make an impression on the intellect and will by means of the movement of that heavenly body.

Moreover. While acting, the particular active cause bears a resemblance to the universal active cause, and imitates it. Now if a human soul were to make an impression on another human soul through an action of the body, as when it reveals its mind by means of vocal signs, the bodily action that proceeds from the one soul does not reach the other soul except by means of the body: for the vocal sounds play on the organ of hearing, and thus being perceived by the sense, its meaning reaches the understanding. Consequently, if the celestial soul makes an impression on our soul by means of a corporeal movement, its action will not reach our soul except through a change effected in our body. But this does not cause our choice, but only occasions it, as we have shown above.¹ Therefore, the heavenly movement is not the cause but only the occasion of our choice.

Again. Since mover and moved must be simultaneous, as is proved in 7 Physics,¹ it follows that movement must come from the first mover to the last thing moved in a certain order, namely, so that the mover moves that which is distant through that which is nearest. Now our body is nearer to the heavenly body, which is supposed to be moved by the soul united to it, than is our soul, which is not ordered to the heavenly body except through its own body. This is proved by the fact that separate intellects are not ordered to a heavenly body, except perhaps as a mover to that which it moves. Therefore, the impression of a heavenly body that originates in its soul does not reach our soul save through our body. And our soul is not moved in response to the movement of the body except accidentally, nor does choice result from an impression made on the body except as occasioned thereby, as we have said.² Therefore, the heavenly body’s movement cannot be the cause of our choice through coming from its soul.

By the same arguments it can be proved that the heavenly movement is not the cause of our choice by the power of a separate substance, if anyone suppose the heaven not to be animate, but to be moved by a separate substance.

That created substances cannot be the direct causes of our acts of choosing and willing, but God alone

We must not think, however, that the souls of heavenly bodies (if there be any)¹ or any intellectual separate substances can directly impel our will or cause our choice.

For the actions of all creatures are subordinate to divine providence, so that they are unable to act beside its laws. Now it is a law of providence that everything is moved immediately by its proximate cause. Consequently, unless this order be observed, the higher created cause can neither move nor act. Again, the proximate moving cause of the will is the good understood, which is its object, and it is moved thereby as sight by color. Therefore, no created substance can move the will except by means of the good understood, namely, insofar as it shows it that a particular thing is good to do; and this is to persuade. Therefore, no created substance can act on the will, or cause our choice, except by way of persuasion.

Again. A thing is naturally moved by and passive to that agent by whose form it can be reduced to act, since every agent acts by its form. Now the will is made actual by the appetible object, which stills the movement of its desire. And the will’s desire is satisfied by the divine good alone as its last end, as we have proved above.¹ Therefore, God alone can move the will as an agent.

Besides. The natural inclination (which we call the natural appetite) of inanimate things for their proper end is like the will or intellectual appetite in intellectual substances. Now a natural inclination cannot be given except by the maker of nature. Therefore, the will cannot be inclined to anything except by the cause of the intellectual nature. But this belongs to God alone, as we have proved above.¹ Therefore, he alone can incline our will to anything.

Moreover. As stated in 3 Ethics, a violent action is one in which the principle is external, and the one who suffers violence contributes nothing.¹ Consequently, if the will be moved by an external principle, its movement will be violent: and I speak of being moved by an external principle that moves as an agent, and not as an end. Now the violent is opposed to the voluntary. Therefore, it is impossible that the will be moved by an external principle as an agent, and every movement of the will must come from within. But no created substance is united to the intellectual soul in its inmost being except God alone, who alone is the cause and sustainer of its being. Therefore, the movement of the will can be caused by none but God alone.

Further. Violent movement is contrary to natural and voluntary movement, because both of these must be from an internal principle. But an external agent does not cause a natural movement except insofar as it causes an internal principle of movement to be in the movable thing: thus the generator that gives the form of gravity to the generated heavy body gives it a natural downward movement.¹ And nothing else external can move a natural body without violence, except perhaps indirectly, as that which removes an obstacle, for such a thing makes use of natural movement or action rather than causes it. Therefore, that agent alone can cause a movement of the will without violence, which causes the internal principle of that movement, namely, the power itself of the will. And this is God, who alone creates the soul, as we proved in the second book.² Therefore, God alone can move the will as an agent without violence.

This is expressed in the words of the Proverb: The king’s heart is in the hand of the Lord; he turns it wherever he will (Prov 21:1); and: God is at work in us¹ both to will and to work for his good pleasure (Phil 2:13).

That the movement of the will is caused by God, and not only the power of the will

Nevertheless, some, unable to understand how God can cause in us the movement of the will without prejudice to liberty, have endeavored to give a false exposition to the authorities quoted.¹ They say, in fact, that God causes in us to will and to accomplish by causing in us the power to will, and not by causing us to will this or that. This is the exposition of Origen, who defended free-will in a sense contrary to the aforesaid authorities.²

This seems to have been the source of the opinion of some who maintained that providence does not regard things subject to free-will—namely, our choices—but only external happenings. For he who chooses to get or do something (for instance, to build or get rich) is not always able to succeed; and so the outcome of our actions is not subject to our free-will, but is ordained by providence.

But the authority of Scripture is in manifest opposition to all this: for it is said: O Lord, you have wrought all our works in¹ us (Isa 26:12). Hence we receive from God not only the power to will, but also our very operations.

Again. Not only does God give things their powers, but also nothing can act by its own power unless it act by his power, as we proved above.¹ Therefore, man cannot use the will-power given to him except insofar as he acts by God’s power. Now the thing by whose power the agent acts is the cause not only of the power, but also of the act. This is apparent in the craftsman, by whose power the instrument acts even though it may not have received its form from the craftsman in question, and is merely applied by him to action. Therefore, God is the cause not only of our will but also of our willing.

Further. Order in spiritual things is more perfect than in corporeal things. Now in corporeal things every movement is caused by the first movement. Therefore, in spiritual things every movement of the will must be caused by the first will, which is God’s.

Besides. We proved above¹ that God is the cause of every action, and that he works in every agent. Therefore, he is the cause of the movements of the will.

Again. Aristotle argues in the same sense¹ as follows. There must be some cause of a person understanding, taking counsel, choosing, and willing, because everything new must have a cause. And if the cause of these acts was another act of counsel and another act of will, we must come at length to something first since in such things we cannot proceed to infinity. And this first thing must be something better than the reason. And nothing but God is better than the intellect and the reason. Therefore, God is the first principle of our counsels and wills.

That human choice and will are subject to divine providence

Hence it follows that human will and choice must be subject to divine providence.

For whatsoever God does, he does according to the order of his providence. Therefore, since he is the cause of our choice and will,¹ these are subject to divine providence.

Moreover. All corporeal things are governed by means of spiritual things, as we have shown above.¹ Now spiritual things act on corporeal things by their will. Consequently, if the acts of choice and will in intellectual substances are not the concern of God’s providence, it follows that corporeal things also are withdrawn from his providence: so that there will be no providence at all.

Besides. The higher a thing is placed in the universe, the more must it participate in the order in which the good of the universe consists. Hence Aristotle¹ reproaches the ancient philosophers for admitting chance and luck in the scheme of the heavenly bodies, but not in the things of the lower world. Now intellectual substances hold a higher place than corporeal substances. Therefore, if corporeal substances, as regards their essence and operation, are included in the order of providence, much more so are intellectual substances.

Further. The government of providence proceeds from God’s love for the things created by him. For love consists chiefly in this: the lover desires the good of the beloved.¹ Consequently, the more God loves a thing, the more it comes under his providence. This is the teaching of Sacred Scripture, where it is said: The Lord preserves all who love him (Ps 145[144]:20). The Philosopher also says² that God cares most for those who love the intellect, as being his friends. From this we may conclude that he loves intellectual substances most of all. Therefore, their acts of will and choice are the object of his providence.

Moreover. Man’s interior goods, which depend on his will and action, are more proper to man than external goods, such as acquiring wealth and the like. Hence a man is said to be good in respect of the former and not of the latter. Consequently, if human choice and the movements of man’s will do not come under divine providence, but only external happenings, it will be truer to say that human affairs are not the concern of providence than that they are. But the former saying is put into the mouth of blasphemers: Thick clouds enwrap him, so that he does not see our things (Job 22:14), and: The Lord has forsaken the land, and the Lord does not see (Ezek 9:9), and: Who has commanded and it came to pass, unless the Lord has ordained it? (Lam 3:37).

Some passages in the sacred doctrine might seem to give utterance to that opinion. Thus it is said: God created man in the beginning, and he left him in the power of his own inclination (Sir 15:14), and further on: He has placed before you fire and water: stretch out your hand for whichever you wish. Before a man are life and death, and whichever he chooses will be given to him (Sir 15:16–17). Also: See, I have set before you this day life and good, death and evil (Deut 30:15). But these words indicate that man has a free-will, not that his choice is withdrawn from divine providence.

Likewise, the statement of Gregory of Nyssa (in his book On Man): Providence regards those things that are not in our power, and not those that are,¹ and what Damascene says in the second book, following him, that God knows but does not predetermine the things which are in our power,² is to be understood as meaning that the things which are in our power are not subject to the divine predetermination in such a way as to be necessitated by it.

How human affairs may be referred to higher causes

From what has been proved we are able to gather how human affairs are to be referred to higher causes, and do not happen by chance.

For acts of choice and will are under the immediate governance of God.¹ Human knowledge pertaining to the intellect is directed by God through angelic intermediaries.² Things pertaining to the body, whether internal or external, and adapted to man’s use, are governed by God by means of the angels and heavenly bodies.³

There is one general reason for this. Every thing that is multiform, changeable and defectible must be referred to a principle that is uniform, unchangeable and indefectible. But every thing connected with us is multiform, changeable and defectible.

For it is clear that our choice is made in many different ways, since different people choose different things in different circumstances. Again, our choice is changeable, both through the instability of the mind, which is not firmly fixed on the last end, and because things themselves change in the midst of which we live. That man’s choice is defectible is proved by his sins. On the other hand, the divine will is uniform, since by willing one he wills all things, and is unchangeable and indefectible, as we proved in the first book.¹ Therefore, all movements of will and choice must be traced to the divine will, and not to any other cause, because God alone is the cause of our willing and choosing.²

In like manner, our intelligence is manifold, since from many sensible objects we gather into one, as it were, the intelligible truth. It is also changeable, since by discoursing it passes from one thing to another, from the known to the unknown. Again, it is defectible through admixture of imagination and sense, as the errors of men testify. On the other hand, the cognition of the angels is uniform, because they receive the knowledge of truth from the one fount of verity, namely God.¹ It is also unchangeable, because they see the truth about things not by discoursing from effects to cause or vice versa, but by simple intuition.² It is also indefectible, since they see intuitively the very natures or quiddities of things in themselves,³ about which the intellect cannot err, as neither can the senses about their proper sensible objects, whereas we gather the nature of a thing from its accidents and effects. Therefore, our intellectual knowledge must be ruled by the knowledge of the angels.

Again, as to human bodies and the external things of which men make use, it is evident that they are blended together and contrary to one another in many ways; also, that they are not always moved in the same way, because their movements cannot be continual; and that they are defectible by alteration and corruption. Whereas heavenly bodies are uniform, being simple and devoid of all contrariety. Also, their movements are uniform, continual and unchangeable. Nor can there be corruption or alteration in them. Consequently, our bodies and whatever else serves for our use must be ruled by the movements of the heavenly bodies.

How a man may be said to be fortunate, and how he is assisted by higher causes

It may be seen from what has been said how a man is said to be fortunate.

For a man is said to have good luck when something good happens to him beside his intention:¹ for instance, when a man finds a treasure which he was not seeking while digging in a field. Now a man, while working, may do something beside his own intention, yet not beside the intention of someone above him. For instance, if a master send a servant to a place whither he had already sent another servant without the knowledge of the former, the finding of the latter is unintentional to the former, but not to the master who sent him: and therefore although in relation to this servant the meeting is fortuitous and casual, it is not so in relation to the master, but is intentional. Since, then, man, is subordinate to the heavenly bodies as to his body; to the angels, as to his intellect; and to God as to his will, it is possible for something to happen beside the intention of man, which is nevertheless according to the order of the heavenly bodies, or the influence of the angels or even of God. And although God’s action alone has a direct bearing on man’s choice, nevertheless the angel’s action has a certain bearing on man’s choice by way of persuasion, and the action of a heavenly body by way of disposition, insomuch as the corporeal impressions of heavenly bodies on our bodies dispose us to choose in certain ways. Accordingly, when through the influence of higher causes (in the aforesaid manner) a man is led to choose such things as turn to his profit, without his being aware of the utility by his own reason; and besides this his understanding is enlightened from the light of intellectual substances to the effect of doing those same things; and through the divine operation his will is inclined so as to choose that which is profitable to him, without knowing why it is so, he is said to be fortunate. And, on the contrary, he is said to be unfortunate when through the influence of higher causes his choice is inclined to contrary things. Thus it is said of someone: Write this man down as childless, a man who shall not succeed in his days (Jer 22:30).

Yet in this, we must observe a difference. For the impressions of heavenly bodies on our bodies cause in us natural dispositions of the body. Consequently, from the disposition left in our body by a heavenly body, one is said not only to be fortunate or unfortunate, but also to have a good or a bad natural disposition, in which sense the Philosopher says¹ that to be fortunate is to have a good natural disposition. For it is inconceivable that the fact of one person choosing what is useful and another what is hurtful without their knowing it is due to these people differing in understanding, since the nature of understanding and will is the same in all, because a formal difference would cause a specific difference, and a material difference causes a difference of individuals. Consequently, insofar as the human intellect is enlightened for the purpose of operation, or the will instigated by God, a man is not said to be well disposed by nature, but to be well guarded or well governed.

Again, another difference is to be observed here. For the operation of an angel and of a heavenly body merely disposes a man to choose, whereas the operation of God gives completion to his choice. And since the disposition arising from a quality affecting the body, or from the persuasion of the intellect, does not necessitate his choice, man does not always choose what his guardian angel intends, nor that to which the heavenly body inclines him. Nevertheless, he always chooses in accord with God’s operation in his will. Hence the guardianship of the angels is sometimes frustrated, according to Jeremiah: We would have healed Babylon, but she was not healed (Jer 51:9); and much more so the influence of heavenly bodies. But divine providence never fails.

Yet another difference must be observed. For, since a heavenly body does not dispose a man to choose except insofar as it makes an impression on our bodies (so that a man is influenced in his choice in the same way as he is led by his passions to choose), every disposition towards choosing resulting from the influence of the heavenly bodies is by way of a passion, as when one is led to make a certain choice through hate, love, or anger and the like. On the other hand, a man is disposed by an angel to make a certain choice by way of intellectual consideration, without passion. And this happens in two ways. Sometimes man’s understanding is enlightened by an angel so as to know only that a certain thing is good to do without being instructed as to the reason for its being good, which reason depends on the end. Consequently, sometimes a man thinks it good to do a certain thing, and yet were he asked why, he would answer that he did not know.¹ Hence when he achieves the useful end, to which he had given no thought, it will be fortuitous for him. Sometimes he is instructed by the angel who enlightens him both as to the goodness of a thing to be done and as to the reason why it is good, which reason depends on the end. And so, when he achieves the end to which he looked forward, it will not be fortuitous. It must also be noted that the active force of a spiritual nature surpasses that of a corporeal nature in being wider in its scope even as it is higher in its kind. Consequently, the disposition caused by a heavenly body does not extend to all those things that come under the scope of man’s choice.

Again. The power of the human soul or even of an angel is restricted in comparison with the divine power, which extends universally to all beings. Hence some good can happen to a man both beside his intention, and beside the influence of heavenly bodies, and beside the angelic enlightenment, but not beside divine providence which is the governor of being as being (even as it is its maker). Thus it must hold all things in its power. Consequently, some good or evil may happen to a man by chance both in relation to himself, and in relation to heavenly bodies, and in relation to the angels, but not in relation to God. For in relation to God not only in human affairs, but in all things whatsoever, there can be nothing fortuitous or unforeseen.

And since fortuitous things are those which are unintentional, and moral goods cannot be unintentional (because they are founded on choice), in their respect no man can be described as fortunate or unfortunate, although in their respect one may say that he has by nature a good or evil disposition when through the natural dispositions of his body he is inclined to the choice of virtue or vice. With regard to external goods, which can accrue to man beside his intention, he may be described both as having a natural disposition for them, and as having good fortune, and as governed by God, and as guarded by the angels.

Man receives yet another assistance from the higher causes with regard to the performance of his actions. For whereas man has the faculty to choose and to follow his choice, in either case he is sometimes helped by higher causes, and sometimes hindered. With regard to his choice, as we have said, insofar as a man is either disposed to choose a certain thing through the influence of heavenly bodies, or enlightened (as it were) through the guardianship of angels, or led through the operation of God. With regard to the execution, insofar as man receives from some higher cause strength and efficiency to accomplish his choice. These things may come not only from God and the angels, but even from heavenly bodies, insofar as the aforesaid efficiency may be seated in the body. For it is evident that even inanimate bodies receive certain forces and efficiencies from heavenly bodies, even besides those which result from the active and passive qualities of the elements—which qualities, without any doubt, are subject to the heavenly bodies. Thus, that the magnet attracts iron is due to the power of a heavenly body, and in the same way certain stones and plants have occult powers. Therefore, there is no reason why one man should not receive a certain efficiency for certain corporeal effects through the influence of a heavenly body, which is not possessed by another man (for instance, a physician for healing, a farmer for planting, a soldier for fighting).

But this efficiency is bestowed on man by God much more perfectly for the purpose of accomplishing his works. Accordingly, as regards the first kind of assistance, which man receives in choosing, God is said to direct him: and as to the second, he is said to strengthen him. These two assistances are indicated in the Psalms, where it is said, in reference to the first: The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? And in reference to the second: The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? (Ps 27[26]:1).

There is, however, a twofold difference between these two assistances. First, by the former, man is assisted both in things subject to his skill and in others; the second assistance extends only to such things for which man’s skill is available. Thus if a man finds a treasure while digging a grave, this does not result from any skill of his. Hence, with a view to such a result a man may be assisted through being instigated to seek where the treasure is, but not by receiving the skill for finding treasures. But that a physician heals, or that a soldier conquers in battle, may result both from assistance received in the choice of means adopted to the end, and from skill received from a higher cause for the success of their actions. Hence the first assistance is more universal. The other difference is that the second assistance is given for the purpose of accomplishing what one intends to do. Therefore, since the fortuitous is unintentional, a man cannot properly speaking be said to be fortunate through receiving such assistance, as he can through receiving the former kind of assistance, as we have shown above.

Now, a man is fortunate or unfortunate sometimes when he acts alone, as when he finds a hidden treasure while he is digging; sometimes through the concurrent action of another cause, as when a man, while going to market intent on buying, meets a debtor whom he did not expect to meet. In the first instance, the man was assisted to his good fortune solely in that he was directed in the choice of something to which a profit was accidentally attached beside his intention. In the second instance, both agents need to be directed to choose an action or movement resulting in their mutual encounter.

There is yet another observation to be made about the foregoing. For it has been said that the happening of good or bad fortune to a man both is from God and can be from a heavenly body. This is insofar man is led by God to choose a thing to which some advantage or disadvantage is attached without being considered by the chooser, and insofar as he is disposed by a heavenly body to make such a choice. This advantage or disadvantage, in reference to man’s choice, is fortuitous; in reference to God, it is no longer fortuitous, whereas it is so in reference to the heavenly body.

This is proved as follows. An event does not cease to be fortuitous until it is referred to its essential cause. Now, the power of a heavenly body is an active cause, not by way of understanding or choosing, but by way of nature: and it is proper to nature to tend to one thing. Accordingly, if a certain effect is not one thing, no natural power can be its essential cause. And when two things are united together accidentally, they are one not really, but only accidentally. Therefore, no natural cause of itself can be the cause of such a conjunction. Suppose, then, that the man in question is led through the impression of a heavenly body as by a passion (as we said before) to dig a grave. Now the grave and the place of the treasure are not one thing save accidentally, because they have no mutual connection. Consequently, the power of the heavenly body cannot cause an inclination of itself to this effect, considered as a whole—namely, that the man in question should dig a grave and a place where a treasure is. Whereas one that acts through the intellect can cause an inclination to this whole, because it belongs to an intelligent being to direct many things to one. It is also plain that a man who knew the treasure to be there might send another who knew it not to dig a grave in the same place, so that he might find the treasure unintentionally. Accordingly, such fortuitous events cease to be fortuitous when referred to the divine causality, but not when they are referred to a heavenly cause.

The same argument shows that a man cannot be fortunate in every possible way through the influence of a heavenly body, but only in this or that respect. When I say in every way, I mean that a man is not by nature such that through the influence of a heavenly body, he chooses always (or nearly always) those particular things to which some advantage or disadvantage is accidentally connected. For nature is directed to one thing only, and the things in regard to which man is fortunate or unfortunate are not reducible to one, but are indeterminate and infinite in number, as the Philosopher says,¹ and is evident to the sense. Therefore, it is impossible for anyone to be of such a nature as invariably to choose those things which have some advantage incidental to them. But one may be inclined by a heavenly body to choose something to which an incidental advantage is attached, and by some other inclination, to choose something else, and by yet a third inclination, to choose yet another thing, but not by one inclination to choose them all. But man can be directed to all things by the one divine disposition.

Other questions about providence

We may gather from the foregoing what we should think about fate.

For observing that many things happen in this world accidentally, if particular causes be taken into consideration, some have maintained that such things are not subordinate to any superior causes. According to this opinion, there is no such thing as fate.

Others, however, endeavored to refer such things to certain higher causes, asserting that they are directed thereby so as to proceed from them in orderly fashion. These held that there is fate, as though things which appear to happen by chance were effata: that is, foretold or preordained by someone.¹

Some of these pretended to ascribe all contingent occurrences of this world to the causality of heavenly bodies, not excluding human elections, and they held that all such things are subject to the directing force of the stars, which force they called fate. This opinion is impossible and contrary to faith, as we have already shown.¹

Others, however, wished to assign to the direction of divine providence all such things as appear to happen by chance in this lower world. Therefore, they maintained that all these things are subject to fate, this being the name given by them to the disposition which divine providence causes to be in things. Hence Boethius says that fate is a disposition inherent to changeable things, by which providence connects each one with its proper order.¹ In this definition disposition stands for order; the words inherent to things are included to differentiate fate from providence, because the order as existing in the divine mind and not yet impressed on things is providence, but is called fate as already expressed in things; changeable is added to show that the order of providence does not deprive things of contingency and changeableness, as some maintained.

In this sense to deny fate is to deny divine providence. Since, however, we should not use even names in common with unbelievers, lest use of the same expressions lead us into error, the faithful should not use the word ‘fate,’ lest they seem to agree with those who subject all things to the force of the stars, having false notions about fate. Hence Augustine says: If anyone gives the name of fate to God’s will or power, let him keep his opinion, but hold his tongue.¹ And Gregory in the same sense says: Far be it from the minds of the faithful to think that fate is anything real.²

A difficulty, however, arises from what has been said. For if all, even the contingent, happenings of this lower world are subject to divine providence, it would seem to follow that either providence is uncertain, or all happens necessarily.

For the Philosopher proves¹ that if we suppose every effect to have a per se cause, and also that, given any per se cause, we must of necessity grant the effect: it will follow that all future events happen of necessity. For if every effect has a per se cause, every effect will be reducible to some cause either present or past. Thus if it be asked whether a certain man will be killed by robbers, this effect is preceded by a cause, which is his being met by the robbers; and this effect is again preceded by another cause, namely that he went out; and this again was preceded by another cause, namely that he went to fetch some water; and this by another cause, namely that he was thirsty; and this was caused by his partaking of salt meat, which he is either eating now or has ate already. Accordingly if given the cause we must necessarily grant the effect: if he eats the salt meat, he is of necessity thirsty; if he thirsts, it is necessary that he wish to seek water; and if he wish to seek water, that he leave his house; and if he go out, that the robbers meet him; and if they meet him, that they kill him. Therefore, from first to last, it is necessary that this eater of salt meat be killed by robbers. The Philosopher concludes, then, that it is untrue that given the cause, the effect must of necessity be granted also, since some of these causes may be ineffective. Nor again is it true that every effect has a per se cause, because that which is accidental (namely, that the man who wants water should meet some robbers), has no cause.

This argument proves, then, that all effects reducible to a per se cause happen themselves of necessity, whether present or past, if the effect follows of necessity when they are given. Either, therefore, we must say that not all effects are subject to divine providence (and thus providence would not be about all things, contrary to what was proved above),¹ or we must say that, granted providence, it is not necessary for its effects to follow (and then providence will not be certain), or that all things must happen of necessity. For providence is not only in the present and the past, but from eternity, since nothing can be in God that is not eternal.

Further. If divine providence is certain, this conditional proposition must be true: if God foresaw this, it will be. Now the antecedent of this proposition is necessary, for it is eternal. Therefore, the consequence is necessary, because whenever the antecedent of a conditional proposition is necessary, the consequence is likewise necessary; so that the consequence is like a conclusion of the antecedent, and whatever follows from a necessity is itself a necessity. Accordingly, if divine providence is certain, all things must happen of necessity.

Moreover. Suppose a thing to be foreseen by God—for instance, that so and so will reign. Either, then, it is possible for it to happen that he does not reign, or it is not possible. If it is not possible for him not to reign, then it is impossible: therefore, it is necessary that he will reign. On the other hand, if it be possible that he will not reign, then, since given a possibility nothing impossible follows (8 Phys. v. 4), it follows that divine providence is at fault; therefore it is not impossible for divine providence to fail. Consequently, if all things are foreseen by God, it follows that either divine providence is uncertain, or that all things happen of necessity.

Again. Cicero argues thus.¹ If all things are foreseen by God, the order of causes is certain. If this be true, all things are subject to fate. If all things are subject to fate, nothing is subject to our power, and there is no such thing as free-will. Therefore, if divine providence is certain, there is no free-will. And it will also follow that there is no such thing as a contingent cause.

In order to solve these difficulties, we must recall some points already laid down, so as to make it clear that nothing escapes from divine providence, and that the order of divine providence is utterly unchangeable, and that nevertheless it does not follow that whatever results from divine providence must happen of necessity.

First, we must observe that as God is the cause of all existent things by giving them their very being, the order of his providence must include all things, because to those things to which he has given being, he must grant a continuance of being, and perfection by attaining their last end.¹

Now in everyone that exercises providence there are two points for consideration:¹ namely, forethought about the order of things, and establishment of the premeditated order in the things subject to providence. The former pertains to the cognitive, and the latter to the executive faculty. And there is this difference between them: in designing the order, providence is so much the more perfect as its order is more able to reach the most minute things. For it is owing to our defective knowledge which cannot comprise all individual things that we are unable to arrange beforehand all the particulars. Thus a man is considered more fit to make provision according as his foresight extends to more particulars, and one whose foresight extends only to general considerations has but a small share of prudence. The same may be observed in all productive arts. On the other hand, as regards the causing of the premeditated order to be in things, the providence of the governor is the higher in order and perfection according as it is more universal, and brings about the realization of its forethought through more ministers. In fact, the mere organization of these ministers has a large place in the order of providence.

Now God’s providence must be supremely perfect, because he is simply and universally perfect, as we proved in the first book.¹ Consequently, in his providence he orders all things, even the most trivial, by the eternal forethought of his wisdom; all things that operate do so as instruments moved by him,² and serve him obediently, so as to bring forth into the world the order of providence thought out, as it were, from eternity. And if all things that are capable of action must act as his ministers, it is impossible that any agent hinder the execution of divine providence by acting contrary to it. Nor again is it possible for divine providence to be hindered through a defect in any agent or patient, since every power, active or passive, is caused in things according to God’s disposition.³ Again, it is impossible for the execution of divine providence to be prevented through a change in the author of providence, since God is utterly unchangeable, as we have proved.⁴ It follows, therefore, that divine providence cannot possibly fail.

Second, it must be observed that every agent aims at a good, and at a greater good so far as it is able, as we have proved.¹ Now, the good and the better are not the same as considered in the whole and as considered in the parts.² For in the whole the good consists in integrity, which results from the order and composition of parts. Consequently, for the whole it is better that there be disparity of parts, which is necessary for the order and perfection of the whole, than that all the parts be equal, each one being on a level with the most excellent part. But each part of inferior degree would be better, considered in itself, if it were on the same level as a higher part. Take the human body as an example: the foot would be a more excellent part if it possessed the beauty and power of the eye, but the whole body would be more imperfect if it were deprived of the service of the foot.

Accordingly, the intention of the particular agent differs from that of the universal agent, for the particular agent aims at the good of the part absolutely, and makes it as good as it can, whereas the universal agent aims at the good of the whole. Consequently, a defect is beside the intention of the particular agent, but according to the intention of the universal agent. Thus the generation of a female is clearly beside the intention of a particular nature (namely, of this particular virtue in this particular seed, the tendency of which is to make the embryo as perfect as possible); on the other hand, it is the purpose of universal nature (namely of the power of the universal cause of generation in inferior beings) that a female be generated, which is a necessary condition for the generation of many animals. In like manner, corruption, diminution, and every defect is in the purpose of universal nature, but not of the particular nature, because each thing shuns deficiency and, for its own part, aims at perfection. It is clear, then, that the particular agent aims at the greatest possible perfection of its effect in its kind; while the universal nature aims at a particular perfection in a particular effect (for instance, the perfection of a male in one effect, that of a female in another).

Among the parts of the whole universe the first distinction to be observed is between the contingent and the necessary,¹ since the higher beings are necessary, incorruptible, and unchangeable. But the lower a thing is, the more it falls short of this condition; thus the lowest are corruptible in their very being, are changeable in their disposition, and produce their effects not of necessity, but contingently. Therefore, every agent that is a part of the universe has a tendency to remain firm in its being and natural disposition, and to establish its effect, while God, who governs the universe, intends to establish some of his effects by way of necessity, and others by way of contingency. Accordingly, he adapts various causes to those effects, to some necessary, to others contingent causes. Therefore, it belongs to the order of divine providence not only that such and such an effect be produced, but that it be caused necessarily, and that some other effect be produced contingently. Consequently, some of the things subject to divine providence are necessary, and some contingent, and not all necessary.

It is therefore evident that although divine providence is the per se cause of a particular future effect, and more truly eternal even though it is present and past, yet it does not follow (as the first argument pretended) that this particular effect necessarily will be. For the divine providence is the per se cause that this particular effect will happen contingently, and this cannot fail.

From which it is clear that this conditional proposition is true: if God foresaw that this would happen, it will be so, as the second argument stated. But it will be as God foresaw that it would be. Now, he foresaw that it would happen contingently. It follows, then, infallibly that it will be contingently and not of necessity.

It is also clear that if this thing which we suppose to be foreseen by God as future be of a contingent nature, it will be possible for it not to happen considered in itself: for it is foreseen in such a way as to be contingent, and possible not to be. Yet the order of divine providence cannot fail; thus it will happen contingently. Thus the third argument is solved. Consequently, we may say that the man in question might not reign if we consider the statement in itself, but not if we consider it as foreseen.

Again, the argument advanced by Cicero appears of small account in the light of what we have said. For, seeing that not only effects but also causes and modes of being are subject to divine providence, as is clear from the foregoing, it does not follow that nothing is under our control if all things are ruled by divine providence. Thus they are foreseen by God so as to be freely done by us.

Nor can the defectibility of second causes, by means of which the effects of providence are produced, deprive divine providence of certainty, as the fifth objection argued. For God himself works in all things according to the decree of his will, as we proved above.¹ Consequently, it belongs to his providence sometimes to allow defectible causes to fail, and sometimes to preserve them from failing.

Such arguments as might be used to prove the necessity of things foreseen by God from the certitude of his knowledge were solved above, when we were treating of the divine knowledge.¹

That the unchangeableness of divine providence does not exclude the usefulness of prayer

We must also observe that as the unchangeableness of providence does not impose necessity on things foreseen, so neither does it exclude the usefulness of prayer. For we do not pray that the eternal disposition of his providence may be changed, since this is impossible, but that he may grant what we desire.

For it is fitting that God should assent to the pious yearnings of the rational creature—not as though our desires have the effect of changing a God who is unchangeable, but as an effect befitting his goodness in granting our desires. For, since all things naturally desire the good, as we have proved,¹ and since it belongs to the supereminent divine goodness to bestow being and well-being on all things in a certain order, it follows that he fulfils, according to his goodness, the pious desires of which our prayers are the expression.

Again. He who causes a thing to move should lead that thing to the end, so that by the same nature, a thing is moved to its end, attains to that end, and rests in it. Now every desire is a movement to a good, and it cannot be in a thing except it come from God, who is good in his essence, and the source of goodness: for every mover moves to its like. Therefore, it belongs to God, according to his goodness, to bring to a fitting issue the reasonable desires which are expressed by means of one’s prayers.

Besides. The nearer things are to their mover, the more effectively do they receive the mover’s impression: thus the things nearer to a fire are more heated thereby. Now intellectual substances are nearer to God than inanimate natural substances. Consequently, the impression of the divine motion is more efficacious in intellectual substances than in other natural substances. Now natural bodies participate in the divine motion to this extent that they receive from it a natural appetite for the good, as well as the fulfilment of that appetite, which is realized when they attain to their respective ends. Much more, therefore, do intellectual substances attain to the fulfilment of their desires which are proffered to God in their prayers.

Moreover. It is essential to friendship that the lover wish the desire of the beloved to be fulfilled, inasmuch as he seeks his good and perfection. Hence it has been said that friends have but one will.¹ Now we have proved² that God loves his creature, and so much the more as it has a greater share of his goodness, which is the first and chief object of his love.³ Hence he wills the desires of the rational creature to be fulfilled, since of all creatures it participates most perfectly in the divine goodness. Now it is from his will that things derive their being, because he is the cause of things through his will, as was proved above.⁴ Therefore, it belongs to God’s goodness to fulfill the rational creature’s desires, as laid before him in our prayers.

Hence it is said in the Psalm: He fulfils the desire of all who fear him, he also hears their cry, and saves them (Ps 145[144]:19); and our Lord says: Every one who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened (Matt 7:8).

That it is not unfitting if sometimes the petitions of those who pray be not granted by God

And yet it is not unfitting that sometimes the petitions of those who pray be not granted by God.

For it was proved that God fulfils the desires of the rational creature, inasmuch as the good is the object of the creature’s desire. Sometimes, however, it happens that what we seek is good not truly but apparently, and is simply evil. Such a prayer, therefore, cannot be granted by God. Hence it is said: You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly (Jas 4:3).

Again, it was shown to be fitting that God fulfils our desires because he moves us to desire. Now the thing moved is not brought to the end of its movement unless the movement continue. Accordingly, if the movement of desire be not continued by repeated prayer, it is not unfitting if the prayer be ineffectual. Thus our Lord says that they ought always to pray and not lose heart (Luke 18:1); and the Apostle says: Pray without ceasing (1 Thess 5:17).

Further. We proved that God fittingly fulfils the desire of the rational creature on account of its being near to God. Now a man approaches to God by contemplation, devout affections, and humble but firm resolutions. A prayer, therefore, that lacks these conditions in its approach to God does not deserve to be granted by him. Hence it is said in the Psalm: He has had regard to the prayer of the humble (Ps 102:17[101:18]); and: Let him ask in faith, without doubting (Jas 1:6).

Moreover. We proved that God grants the prayers of the devout on the score of friendship. Consequently, if a man rejects God’s friendship, his prayer is unworthy of being granted. Hence it is said: If one turns away his ear from hearing the law, even his prayer is an abomination (Prov 28:9); and: Even though you make many prayers, I will not listen; for your hands are full of blood (Isa 1:15).

It is on the same principle that sometimes a friend of God is not heard when he prays for those who are not God’s friends. Thus it is said: Do not pray for this people, or lift up cry or prayer for them, and do not intercede with me, for I will not hear you (Jer 7:16).

It happens, too, sometimes that a man refuses his friend’s request through friendship because he knows it to be hurtful to him, or the contrary to be better for him. Thus a physician will sometimes refuse a sick man what he asks, knowing that it is not good for his health. Hence, since it has been proved that God, for love of the rational creature, fulfils the desires set forth in his prayers, we must not be surprised if sometimes he does not fulfill the prayers of those even who are most dear to him so that he may accomplish what is best for the welfare of the suppliant. For this reason, he did not remove from Paul the thorn in his flesh, though thrice he prayed for this, because he foresaw that this would be good for him by keeping him humble, as related in 2 Cor 12:8–9. Hence also our Lord said to some: You do not know what you are asking (Matt 20:22); and it is said: We do not know how to pray as we ought (Rom 8:26). For this reason Augustine says: The Lord is good, for often he grants not what we want, that he may give what we want more.¹

It is clear, then, from what has been said that prayers and pious desires are the cause of some of the things done by God. Now it has been shown¹ that God’s providence does not exclude other causes: rather indeed does he dispose of them so that the order appointed by his providence may be established in things. Consequently, second causes are not inconsistent with providence—in fact, they accomplish the effect of providence. Accordingly, prayers are efficacious before God, yet they do not upset the unchangeable order of divine providence, since even the granting of each suppliant’s prayer is included in the order of divine providence. To say, therefore, that we must not pray that we may obtain something from God because the order of his providence is unchangeable is like saying that we must not walk in order to arrive at a place, nor eat that we may have nourishment, both of which are clearly absurd.

By the foregoing we refute a twofold error about prayer. For some have said that prayer has no fruit. This was asserted both by those who, like the Epicureans, utterly denied divine providence, and by those who (like certain Peripatetics)¹ withdrew human affairs from the providence of God, and again by those who, with the Stoics,² contended that all things subject to providence happen of necessity. For it results from all these opinions that prayer produces no fruit, and that consequently all worship of the divinity is in vain. There is an allusion to this error in Malachi: It is vain to serve God. What is the good of our keeping his charge or of walking as in mourning before the Lord of hosts? (Mal 3:14).

On the other hand, some have contended that the divine ordinance can be changed by our prayers: thus the Egyptians said that fate was averted by prayers, certain images, incensings or incantations.

Certain passages in Sacred Scripture would seem at the first glance to admit of being taken in this sense. For it is related that Isaias, at God’s command, said to King Ezechias: Thus says the Lord: Set your house in order; for you shall die, you shall not live (Isa 38:1), and that after Ezechias had prayed, the word of the Lord came to Isaiah: Go and say to Ezechias: I have heard your prayer . . . Behold, I will add fifteen years to your life (Isa 38:4–5). Also, it is said in the name of God: If at any time I declare concerning a nation or a kingdom, that I will pluck up and break down and destroy it, and if that nation concerning which I have spoken turns from its evil, I will repent of the evil that I intended to do to it (Jer 18:7–8). And: Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful . . . Who knows whether he will not turn and repent? (Joel 2:13–14).

These passages, if taken in their superficial sense, lead to an impossibility. For, in the first place, it follows that God’s will is changeable. Also, that God acquires something from the course of time. Further, that things happening in time to creatures cause something that is in God. These are all impossible, as is evident from what has been already laid down.¹

They are also contrary to Sacred Scripture, which contains the expression of infallible truth. For it is said: God is not man, that he should lie, or a son of man, that he should repent. Has he said, and will he not do it? Or has he spoken, and will he not fulfill it? (Num 23:19). And: The triumpher in Israel will not lie or repent; for he is not a man, that he should repent (1 Sam 15:29). And: I, the Lord, do not change (Mal 3:6).

Now it suffices to consider carefully what we have said above for one to realize that every error occurring in the present matter is due to one’s overlooking the difference between the universal and the particular orders. For, since all effects are ordained one to another insofar as they have one common cause, this order must be the more general as the cause is more universal. Hence the order appointed by the universal cause, which is God, must of necessity include all things. There is nothing, therefore, to prevent a particular order being changed through prayer or in some other manner, because there is something that can change it outside that order. Therefore, it is not strange that the Egyptians, who referred the ordering of human affairs to the heavenly bodies, held that fate, having its origin in the stars, can be changed by certain prayers and rites. This is because outside and above the heavenly bodies there is God, who can hinder the heavenly bodies from producing the effect which was to have taken place in this lower world as a result of their influence.

But outside that order, which includes all things, it is not possible to assign a thing whereby the order depending on the universal cause can be subverted. For this reason, the Stoics, who referred the ordering of all things to God as the universal cause, held that the order appointed by God is utterly unchangeable. But these again failed to consider the universal order in that they held prayers to be altogether useless, thus implying that man’s volitions and desires, which lead him to pray, are not included in that universal order. For when they say that the result is the same on account of the universal order of things whether we pray or not, it is clear that they exclude the suppliant’s prayers from that order. For if they were contained in that order, effects would follow through the divine ordinance from these, even as they follow through other causes. Accordingly, to deny the efficacy of prayer is to deny the efficacy of all other causes. And if the unchangeableness of the divine order does not deprive other causes of their efficacy, neither does it destroy the efficacy of prayer. Therefore, prayers are useful not as though they brought about a change in the order appointed from eternity, but as included in that very order.

On the other hand, there is no reason why the particular order of an inferior cause should not be changed by God through the efficacy of prayer: for he transcends all causes, so that he is not bound by the order of any cause, but on the contrary all necessity imposed by the order of a lower cause is subject to him, because it originated from him. Accordingly, when some change is brought about by prayer in the order of inferior causes, God is said to return or to repent—not as though his eternal ordinance is changed, but that some effect of his is changed. Hence Gregory says that God changes not his mind, although at times he changes his sentence.¹ I say not that one which expresses his eternal decree, but that which expresses the order of lower causes—in keeping with which Ezechias was to die, and a nation was to be exterminated for its sins. Such a change of sentence is described metaphorically as repentance in God insofar as he behaves like a penitent, who shows himself penitent by changing his behaviour. In the same way, he is said figuratively to be angry insofar as he does what an angry man does by punishing.²

How there is a reason for divine providence

From what has been said, one can see clearly that things are arranged by divine providence for a definite reason.

For we have proved that God, by his providence, directs all things to his goodness as their end¹—not indeed as though his goodness gained anything from the things that are made, but in order that the likeness of his goodness may be impressed on things as far as possible.² And since every created substance must fall short of the perfection of the divine goodness, it was necessary, in order that the divine goodness might the more perfectly be bestowed on things, that there should be diversity among them, so that what could not be perfectly represented by one single thing might be more perfectly represented in various ways by things of various kinds. Thus when man finds that he cannot adequately express an idea by one word, he uses several words so as to express his idea in several ways. In this too we are able to consider the eminence of the divine perfection, since perfect goodness, which in God exists in a united and simple manner, cannot be in creatures otherwise than in many ways and many subjects. Now things are diversified through having diverse forms whence they derive their species. Consequently, the reason for diversity in the forms of things is taken from the end.

Again, the reason of the order in things is taken from the diversity of forms. For, as it is from the form that a thing has its being, and as a thing insofar as it has being approaches to a likeness to God, who is his own simple being, it follows of necessity that the form is nothing else than a participation of the divine similitude in things. Hence Aristotle, speaking of the form, rightly says that it is something godlike and desirable.¹ Now likeness to one simple thing cannot be diversified except through the resemblance being more or less close, or more or less distant. And the closer a thing approaches to the divine resemblance, the more perfect it is. Consequently, diversity of forms must be according as one is more perfect than another. For this reason Aristotle² likens definitions, whereby the natures and forms of things are indicated, to numbers, in which species are diversified by addition or subtraction of unity—thus giving us to understand that diversity of forms requires diverse degrees of perfection.

This is evident to anyone who studies the natures of things. For, if he consider carefully, he will find that the diversity of things is made up of degrees (since above inanimate bodies he will find plants, and above these irrational animals, above these intelligent substances), and in each one of these he will find diversity according as some are more perfect than other: so much so that the highest members of a lower genus appear to be close to the higher genus, and conversely. Thus animals that cannot move are like plants. Hence Dionysius says that divine wisdom has joined together the last things of higher degree to the first things of lower degree.¹ Therefore, it is clear that the diversity of things requires that all be not equal, and that there be order and degrees.

From the diversity of forms, from which things derive their specific differences, there follows the difference of operations. For, since things act according as they are actual (because those that are in potency, as such, are devoid of action), and since a thing is actual by its form, a thing’s operation must follow its form. Accordingly, if there be diverse forms, these must have diverse operations.

Again, since each thing attains to its proper end by its proper action, it follows that there must be diverse proper ends in things, although there is one common end of all.

Moreover, from the diversity of forms there results in matter a diversity of habitude in relation to things. For, since forms are diverse according as some are more perfect than others, some of them are perfect to the extent of being subsistent and complete in themselves, having no need of matter as a support. But some are unable to subsist perfectly by themselves, and require matter to uphold them, so that what subsists is not a form only, nor matter only—which by itself is not an actual being—but something composed of both.

Now matter and form would be unable to concur in making one thing unless they were mutually proportionate. And if they need to be proportionate, it follows that diverse matters correspond to diverse forms. Consequently, certain forms require simple, while others require complex matter; and to diverse forms there must correspond diverse composition of parts, in keeping with the species and operation of the form.

From the diverse habitudes in relation to matter, there results diversity of agents and patients. For, since a thing acts by reason of its form, it follows that things which have more perfect and less material forms act on those that are more material and have more imperfect forms.

Again, from diversity of forms, matters, and agents there results diversity of properties and accidents. For, since substance is the cause of accident (as the perfect of the imperfect), it follows that diverse proper accidents must result from diverse substantial principles. Moreover, since diverse agents produce diverse impressions on patients, it follows that a diversity of agents must result in a diversity of accidents resulting from their activity.

From what has been said then, it is clear that it is not without reason that divine providence has appointed to creatures diverse accidents, actions, passions and orders. Therefore, Sacred Scripture ascribes the formation and government of things to the divine wisdom and prudence. Thus it is said: The Lord by wisdom founded the earth; by understanding he established the heavens; by his knowledge the deeps broke forth, and the clouds drop down the dew (Prov 3:19–20). Again, it is said that divine wisdom reaches mightily from one end of the earth to the other, and she orders all things sweetly (Wis 8:1). And: You have arranged all things by measure and number and weight (Wis 11:21), where by measure we are to understand the quantity, mode, or degree of perfection in each thing; by number, the multitude and diversity of species resulting from the various degrees of perfection; and by weight the various inclinations of things to their respective ends and operations, agents and patients, and such accidents as result from diversity of species.

In this same order wherein we find the reason of divine providence, we have stated that the first place (as being the last end) must be assigned to the divine goodness, which is the first principle in practical matters; after this comes the multiplicity of things, and this cannot result but from a diversity of grades in forms and matters, agents and patients, actions and accidents. Accordingly, as the fundamental reason of divine providence, absolutely speaking, is the divine goodness, so the fundamental reason in creatures is their multiplicity, to the making and preservation of which all other things are apparently subordinate. In this sense Boethius, it would seem, rightly said that number seems to have been the aim of nature in the original formation of things.¹

We must, however, observe that practical and speculative reason partly agree and partly differ. They agree in this: as speculative reason starts from a principle, and employs means to reach the intended conclusion, so the practical reason begins from some first principle and through certain means arrives at the intended operation or product of operation. In speculative matters the principle is the form and what a thing is; but in practical matters it is the end, which sometimes is a form, at other times something else. Moreover, the principle in operative matters must always be necessary, whereas in practical things it is sometimes necessary and sometimes not: thus it is necessary that man desire happiness as his end, but it is not necessary that he desire to build a house. Likewise, in demonstrations, that which follows is always a necessary sequel to that which precedes, but in practical matters not always, and only when the end cannot be obtained except by the way indicated: thus he who would build a house must get some wood, but it depends on his simple will, and not on his will to build a house, that he gets pine wood.

Accordingly, that God love his own goodness is something necessary, but it does not necessarily follow from this that it should be reflected in creatures, since the divine goodness is perfect without this. Consequently, although the divine goodness is the reason why creatures were originally brought into being, yet this depends on the simple will of God. Supposing, however, that God wishes to communicate his goodness to his creatures by way of likeness as far as it is possible, this is the reason why creatures are of diverse kinds—although there is no necessity for this diversity being according to this or that degree of perfection, or this or that number of things. And supposing it to be God’s will to establish a particular number in things, and to bestow on each thing a particular measure of perfection, this is the reason why a particular thing has such and such a form and such and such matter. And so on in like manner.

It is, therefore, clear that the dispensations of providence are according to a certain reason, and yet this reason presupposes the divine will.

Accordingly, a twofold error is refuted by what we have said. First, there is the error of those who maintained that all things are the result of God’s simple will without any reason. This is the error of the Muslim theologians in the law of the Mohammedans, as Rabbi Moses relates,¹ according to whom the sole reason why fire heats, rather than chills, is because God wills thus. Second, we refute the error of those who assert that the ordering of causes proceeds from divine providence by way of necessity.² Both of which are false, as is clear from what has been said.

There are certain expressions of Scripture that would seem to ascribe all things to God’s simple will. But such things are said not to remove reason from the dispensations of providence, but to show that God’s will is the first principle of all things, as we have already shown. Such are the words of the Psalm: Whatever the Lord pleases he does (Ps 135[134]:6), and of Job: Who can say: ‘Why do you do so?’ (Job 9:12). And: Who can resist his will? (Rom 9:19). Augustine likewise says: God’s will alone is the first cause of health and sickness, reward and punishment, grace and retribution.¹

Accordingly, if we be asked for the account of a particular natural effect, we can assign the reason to some proximate cause; provided, however, that we refer all things to the divine will as their first cause. Thus if it be asked: Why was the wood heated at the presence of fire? we reply it is because to heat is fire’s natural action; and this, because heat is its proper accident; and this results from its proper form, and so on until we come to the divine will. Hence if we reply to the question: Why was the wood made hot? by saying: Because God so willed, we shall answer rightly if we intend to trace the question back to its first cause, but incorrectly if we intend to exclude all other causes.

How it is possible, and how it is impossible, for God to do something outside the order of his providence

From what has been said we are able to consider a twofold order: the one is dependent on the first cause of all things, so that it comprises all; the other is a particular order, dependent on a created cause, and comprising such things as are subordinate to that cause. The latter order is manifold, in accordance with the diversity of causes to be found among creatures. Yet one such order is subordinate to another, even as one cause is subordinate to another. Consequently, all these particular orders are comprised under that universal order, and are subordinate to that order by which things are dependent on the first cause. We have an example of this in civil affairs. For there is a certain order among all the members of a household according as they are subject to the head of the house. Again, the head of the house together with all the other heads of houses in the same city have a certain order among themselves, and in relation to the governor of the city. And he again, together with all the other governors in the kingdom, is subordinate to the king.

This universal order, in respect of which all things are ordered by divine providence, may be considered in two ways: with regard to things subject to that order and with regard to the reason of the order (which depends on the principle of the order).

Now we proved in the second book¹ that the things themselves which are placed in order by God proceed from him as from an agent that is not necessitated either by nature or by anything else, but from his simple will, especially as regards the original establishment of things. Consequently, God can do certain things besides those which are comprised under the order of divine providence, since his power is not bound to the latter.

On the other hand, if we consider the aforesaid order with respect to the reason dependent on the principle, then it is not possible for God to do anything outside that order. For this order, as we have proved,¹ proceeds from the knowledge and will of God who directs all things to his goodness as their end. Now, it is not possible that God do anything that is not willed by him, since creatures proceed from him not because it is natural that they should, but because he wills them to, as we have proved.² Nor is it possible for anything to be done by him that is not included in his knowledge, since nothing can be willed that is not known. Nor again is it possible for him to do anything as regards creatures that is not directed to his goodness as its end, since his goodness is the proper object of his will.³ Likewise, since God is utterly unchangeable,⁴ he cannot possibly will that which he willed not before, or begin to know something anew, or direct it to his goodness.

Therefore, God can do nothing but what is comprised in the order of his providence, even as he cannot do but what is subject to his operation. And yet, if we consider his power absolutely, he can do other things besides those that are subject to his providence or operation: but he cannot do what has not been eternally contained in the order of his providence, because he is unchangeable.

Through failing to observe this distinction, some have fallen into various errors. Some, in an endeavor to extend to things themselves the unchangeableness of the divine order, said that all things must of necessity be as they are—so much so that some declared that God is unable to do except what he does. Against this we have the words of Christ: Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send me more than twelve legions of angels? (Matt 26:53).

On the other hand, some, thinking in their carnal wisdom that God is inconstant of will like carnal man, ascribed the changeableness of things subject to divine providence to changeableness in divine providence itself. Against this it is said: God is not man, that he should lie, or a son of man, that he should repent (Num 23:19).

Others again withdrew contingent things from divine providence.¹ Against these it is said: Who has commanded and it came to pass, unless the Lord has ordained it? (Lam 3:37).

That God can work outside the order imposed on things by producing effects without their proximate causes

It remains to be proved that he can act outside the order imposed on things by himself.

For the order imposed on things by God is that lower things be moved by higher, as was shown above.¹ Now God can act independently of this order: in other words, he can himself produce an effect in inferior things without a higher agent doing anything towards that effect. For the agent that works by natural necessity differs from the agent that acts by will in that the effect cannot result from the former except according to the mode of its active power, so that the agent which has very great power cannot produce immediately a small effect, but produces an effect proportionate to its power. In this effect, however, there will be sometimes less power than in its cause, so that at length through many intermediaries a small effect results from the highest cause. But it is not so in the agent that acts by its will. For the agent that acts by its will can at once, without any intermediary, produce any effect that does not surpass its power: thus the most perfect craftsman can produce a work such as an imperfect craftsman would produce. Now God works by his will, and not by necessity of nature, as we proved above.² Therefore, he can produce minor effects, which are produced by inferior causes, immediately without their proper causes.

Again. The divine power is compared to all active powers as a universal power to particular powers, as is clear from what has been said above.¹ Now an active universal power may be determined to the production of a particular effect in two ways. First, by a particular intermediary cause. Thus the active power of a heavenly body is determined to the effect, which is the begetting of a man, by the particular power seated in the semen. Again, thus the power of the general proposition in a syllogism is determined to a particular conclusion by the application of a particular proposition. Second, by an intellect which apprehends a particular form and produces it in the effect. Now the divine intellect knows not only its own essence (which is like a universal active power), and not only universal and first causes, but also all particular causes, as we have proved above.² Therefore, God can produce immediately every effect that is produced by any particular agent.

Further. Since accidents result from the essential principles of a thing, it follows that he who is the immediate cause of the essence is able to produce in a thing whatever results from its essence: for the generator, which gives the form, gives likewise all the resultant properties and movements. Now, we have shown¹ that God brought all things into being immediately by creation in the original production of things. Therefore, he can cause an effect to result in anything whatsoever independently of middle causes.

Besides. The order of things emanates from God into things according to the forecast of his intelligence: thus in human affairs we see that the head of the state imposes on the citizens the order preconceived by him. Now the divine intellect is not necessarily confined to this particular order so as to be unable to conceive any other. For even we are able by our intellect to apprehend another order, since it is intelligible to us that God might make a man of earth and not of seed. Therefore, God can produce an effect without the inferior causes to which that effect is proper.

Further. All creatures are more subject to God than man’s body is to his soul: for the soul is proportionate to the body as its form, whereas God surpasses all proportion to the creature. Now, sometimes when the soul imagines a thing and is strongly drawn towards it, there results a change in the body in the direction of health or sickness independently of any action on the part of those bodily principles, whose natural function is to cause sickness or health in the body. Much more, therefore, by the divine will can an effect be produced in creatures independently of the causes which in the course of nature produce that effect naturally.

If, however, anyone were to say that since God has implanted this order in things, he cannot produce in them effects apart from their proper causes without a change in himself, he can be answered by referring to the very nature of things. For the order imposed on things by God is in keeping with that which is wont to occur in things for the most part, but it is not everywhere in keeping with what always occurs. For many natural causes produce their effects in the same way usually but not always, since sometimes (though seldom) it happens otherwise, whether on account of a defect in the power of the agent, or through indisposition of the matter, or by reason of a stronger agency—as when nature produces a sixth finger in a man. Yet the order of providence does not therefore fail or change, because the very fact that the natural order happens at times to fail (being established according to what happens for the most part) is subject to divine providence. Therefore, if it be possible for the natural order to be changed by a created power from that which is of frequent to that which is of rare occurrence, without any change in divine providence, much more can the divine power at times work apart from the order assigned by God to nature, without prejudice to his providence.

In fact, he does this sometimes in order to manifest his power. For by no other means can it better be made manifest that all nature is subject to the divine will than by the fact that sometimes he works independently of the natural order, since this shows that the order of things proceeded from him not of natural necessity, but of his free will.

Nor should it be deemed a paltry reason that God should produce something in nature in order to manifest himself to the minds of men, since it was shown above¹ that all corporeal creatures are in some way directed to an intellectual nature as their end, while the end of the intellectual creature itself is the knowledge of God, as we have proved.² It is not strange, then, if some change be wrought in a corporeal substance in order to bring the intellectual nature to the knowledge of God.

That what God does beside the order of nature is not contrary to nature

It would seem, however, necessary to observe that although God sometimes does something beside the order assigned to things, he does nothing contrary to nature.

For, since God is pure act, but all other things have some admixture of potency, it follows that God must be compared to all things as the mover to the thing moved, and as the active to the potential. Now, when that which in the natural order is in potency with regard to a certain agent is acted upon by that agent, this is not contrary to nature simply, although sometimes it is contrary to that particular form which is corrupted by such action. Thus when fire is generated, and air is corrupted through the action of the fire, both generation and corruption are natural. Consequently, whatever is done by God in created things is not contrary to nature, although it may seem to be contrary to the order proper to a particular nature.

Again. Since God is the first agent, as we have proved,¹ all subsequent agents are likened to his instruments. Now, the purpose of an instrument is to serve the action of the principal agent while it is being moved by it: hence the matter and form of an instrument must be such as to be suitable for the action intended by the principal agent. Hence it is not contrary but most becoming to the nature of an instrument to be moved by the principal agent. Neither, therefore, is it contrary to nature that creatures be moved by God in any way whatsoever, since they were made that they might serve him.

Besides. The first measure of every essence and nature is God as the first being, who is the cause of being in all other things. Since, then, we judge of everything by its measure, we must regard as natural to a thing that whereby it is conformed to its measure. Hence whatever is implanted in a thing by God is natural to that thing. Therefore, if something else be implanted by God in that same thing, it will not be unnatural.

Moreover. All creatures are compared to God as works of art are compared to the artist, as appears from what we have already said.¹ Hence all nature is the work of the divine art. Now it is not inconsistent with a work of art that the artist make some alteration in his work, even after giving it its first form. Neither, therefore, is it contrary to nature if God does something in natural things other than that which occurs in the ordinary course of nature.

Thus Augustine says: God, the creator and author of all natures, does nothing unnatural, because that is natural to each thing which is caused by him from whom is all measure, number and order in nature.¹

These works that are sometimes done by God outside the usual order assigned to things are wont to be called miracles, because we are astonished (admiramur) at a thing when we see an effect without knowing the cause. And since at times one and the same cause is known to some and unknown to others, it happens that of several who see an effect, some are astonished and some not. Thus an astronomer is not astonished when he sees an eclipse of the sun, for he knows the cause, but one who is ignorant of this science must wonder since he does not know the cause. Therefore, it is wonderful to the latter but not to the former. Accordingly, a thing is simply wonderful when its cause is hidden simply, and this is what we mean by a miracle, namely, something that is wonderful in itself and not only in respect of this person or that. Now God is the cause which is hidden to every man simply: for we have proved above¹ that in this state of life no man can comprehend him by his intellect. Therefore, properly speaking, miracles are works done by God outside the order usually observed in things.

Of these miracles there are various degrees and orders. The highest degree in miracles comprises those works in which something is done by God that nature can never do: for instance, that two bodies occupy the same place, that the sun recede or stand still, that the sea be divided and make way to passersby. Among these there is a certain order, for the greater the work done by God, and the further it is removed from the capability of nature, the greater the miracle. Thus it is a greater miracle that the sun recede than that the waters be divided.

The second degree in miracles belongs to those whereby God does something that nature can do, but not in the same order. Thus it is a work of nature that an animal live, see, and walk; but nature cannot make an animal live after being dead, see after being blind, walk after being lame. Yet God does these things sometimes by a miracle. Among these miracles, there are also degrees according as the thing done is further removed from the faculty of nature.

The third degree of miracles is when God does what is wont to be done by the operation of nature, but without the operation of the natural principles: for instance, when by the power of God a man is cured of a fever that nature is able to cure, or when it rains without the operation of the principles of nature.

That God alone works miracles

From what has been said it can be shown that God alone can work miracles.

For whatever is entirely subject to an order cannot do anything above that order. Now, every creature is placed under the order established in things by God. Therefore, no creature can do anything above that order, which is to work miracles.

Again. When a finite power produces its proper effect to which it is confined, it is not a miracle, although it may be wonderful to one who does not understand that power. Thus to an ignorant person it is wonderful that the magnet attracts iron, or that a small fish should stop a ship.¹ Now every creature’s power is limited to one definite effect, or to some. Therefore, whatever is done by the power of any creature whatsoever cannot be properly described as a miracle, although it may be wonderful to one who does not understand the power of the creature in question. But that which is done by the power of God—which, being infinite, is incomprehensible—is truly a miracle.

Moreover. Every creature requires in its action a subject on which to act: for it belongs to God alone to make something out of nothing, as we proved above.¹ Now, that which requires a subject in its action can do nothing but those things to which that subject is in potency, since the agent acts on the subject in order to bring it from potency to act. Therefore, even as a creature cannot create, so neither can it do anything in a thing save what is in the potency of that thing. But in many miracles wrought by God, something is done in a thing that is not in that thing’s potency: for instance, that the dead live again, that the sun recede, that two bodies occupy the same place. Therefore, such miracles cannot be wrought by any created power.

Further. The subject acted upon is ordered both to the agent that brings it from potency to act, and to the act to which it is brought. Accordingly, just as any particular subject is in potency to a particular definite act, and not to any act, so it cannot be brought from potency to a definite act except by some definite agent: for agents must differ according as they introduce different acts. Thus, though air is potentially fire or water, one agent makes it to be actually fire, and another makes it to be actually water. Likewise, it is clear that corporeal matter is not brought to a perfect act by the sole action of a universal power, and there must be some proper agent whereby the action of the universal power is determined to a definite effect. Nevertheless, corporeal matter can be brought to a less perfect act by the universal power alone, without a particular agent: thus perfect animals are not formed by the power of a heavenly body alone, but determinate seed is necessary; whereas the power of a heavenly body, without any seed, suffices for the generation of certain imperfect animals. Accordingly, effects produced among these lower things, if they be of a nature to be wrought by universal higher causes without the action of particular inferior causes, can be produced in this way without any miracle. Thus it is not a miracle that animals be formed from putrefaction without seed. But if they be not of a nature to be produced by superior causes alone, then particular inferior causes are required for their perfect formation. Now there is no miracle if an effect be produced by a higher cause, by means of its proper principles. Therefore, it is altogether impossible for miracles to be wrought by the power of the higher creatures.

Moreover. These seeem to amount to the same: the production of a work out of a subject, the production of that to which the subject is in potency, and the orderly production of something through definite intermediary stages. For a subject is not in proximate potency to the ultimate effect until it has arrived at the middle stage. Thus food is not in immediate potency flesh, but only when it is changed into blood. Now, every creature needs a subject in order to produce something; nor can it produce other than that to which the subject is in potency, as we have shown. Therefore, it cannot produce anything without bringing the subject to act through definite intervening stages. Therefore, miracles which consist in something being done without observing the order in which it is naturally feasible cannot be worked by the power of a creature.

Also. There is a natural order to be observed in the various kinds of movement. The first is local movement; hence it is the cause of other movements, because in every genus that which is first is the cause of all that follows in that genus.¹ Now every effect that is produced in this lower world must result from some generation or alteration: consequently, it must be caused through something that is moved locally, if it be the effect of an incorporeal agent which is incapable of local movement properly speaking. Moreover, no effect that is caused by incorporeal substances through corporeal instruments is a miracle, since bodies have no operation that is not natural. Therefore, created incorporeal substances cannot work miracles by their own power. And much less can corporeal substances, whose every action is natural.

Therefore, it belongs to God alone to work miracles. For he is above the order which contains all things, as one from whose providence the whole of this order is derived. Moreover, his power, being absolutely infinite, is not confined to any special effect, nor to the producing of its effect in any particular way or order.

Therefore, it is said of God in the Psalm: He alone does great wonders (Ps 136[135]:4).

That spiritual substances do wonders which, however, are not miracles properly speaking

It was the opinion of Avicenna that matter is more obedient to separate substances in the production of an effect than to contrary agents in matter. Hence he states that sometimes an effect ensues in this lower world at the apprehension of the aforesaid substances, such as rain, or the health of a sick person, without any corporeal agent intervening.

He regards as a sign of this the fact that when our soul is of strong imagination, the body is affected by mere thought. Thus a man easily falls while walking on a plank at a height, because through fear he imagines himself to fall; he would not fall were the plank placed on the ground, so that he would not fear to fall. It is also clear that the body is heated at a mere apprehension of the soul (as happens in lustful or angry persons), or it becomes cold, as happens in those who are seized with fear. Sometimes even it is inclined to some illness through a strong apprehension (for instance, fever or even leprosy). In this way, says he, if the soul be pure and not subject to the passions of the body, and strong of apprehension, not only its own body is obedient to its apprehension, but even external bodies: so much so that a sick man is healed at its mere apprehension, or something similar. He holds this to be the cause of fascination, namely, because, being deeply affected with malevolence, a certain person’s soul exercises a baneful influence on someone, especially on a child, who by reason of the softness of the body is most impressionable. Hence he maintains that much more do certain effects result in these lower bodies without the action of a corporeal agent at the apprehension of separate substances, which, he says, are the souls or movers of the spheres.

This theory is consistent enough with other opinions of his. For he holds that all substantial forms emanate from a separate substance into these lower bodies; and that corporeal agents merely dispose matter to receive the impression of the separate agent. But this is untrue according to the teaching of Aristotle, who proves¹ that the forms which are in matter do not come from separate forms, but from forms in matter: for thus it is that we find a likeness between the maker and the thing made.

Moreover, the comparison with the soul’s impression on the body does not advance his theory very much. For no impression is made on the body as a result of an apprehension unless there be some emotion united to the apprehension, such of joy, fear, desire, or of some other passion. Now these passions are accompanied by a certain definite movement of the heart, the result being an impression on the entire body either as to local motion, or as to some alteration. Hence it still remains that the apprehension of a spiritual substance does not make an impression on the body, except by means of local movement.¹

As to his remark about fascination, this is not due to the apprehension of one affecting immediately the body of another, but it results from that apprehension affecting the conjoined body through the movement of the heart, the influence of which reaches even to the eye, which is able to work evil on an external object, especially if it be easily impressionable. Thus the eye of a woman in her menses infects a mirror.¹

Accordingly, except through the local movement of a body, a created spiritual substance cannot, by its own power, induce any form into corporeal matter, as though matter were obedient to it in this so as to become actuated by a certain form. For it is in the power of a created spiritual substance that a body should be obedient to it in respect of local movement. And by moving a particular body locally, it applies certain natural forces to the production of certain effects: thus the art of the smith applies fire to make the iron malleable. But this is not miraculous, properly speaking. It follows, therefore, that created spiritual substances do not work miracles by their own power.

And I say by their own power, because nothing prevents these substances from working miracles insofar as they work by divine power. This indeed may be seen from the fact that as Gregory states one order of angels is especially deputed to the working of miracles.¹ He also says that certain saints sometimes work miracles by power, and not merely by intercession.²

We must observe, however, that when angels or demons apply natural things in order to produce certain definite effects, they employ them as instruments, just as a physician uses certain herbs as instruments for the purpose of healing. Now, from an instrument there proceeds an effect not only in proportion to its power, but also in excess thereof, insofar as it acts by the power of the principal agent: thus a saw or an axe could not produce a bedstead except through being applied by craftsmanship for that particular effect, nor could natural heat produce flesh, except by the power of the vegetative soul that employs it as an instrument. It is therefore reasonable that certain higher effects should result from these same natural things through spiritual substances employing them as instruments.

Accordingly, although such effects cannot be called miracles absolutely, since they result from natural causes, nevertheless they are wonderful to us in two ways. First, because these causes are applied for the production of their proper effects by spiritual substances in a way that is strange to us: even so the works of skillful craftsmen seem wonderful to others who do not see how the work is done. Second, because the natural causes employed for the production of certain effects are invested with a certain power through serving as instruments of spiritual substances. This comes nearer to the nature of a miracle.

That the works of magicians result not only from the influence of heavenly bodies

Some there were who averred that such works as seem wonderful to us, being wrought by the magic art, are done not by certain spiritual substances, but by the power of the heavenly bodies. This would seem to be indicated by the fact that those who practice works of this kind observe the position of the stars, and are assisted by the employment of certain herbs and other corporeal things, for the purpose, as it were, of preparing matter of lower degree to receive the influence of the celestial power.

But this is in contradiction with what is apparent. For as it is impossible that an intellect be formed from corporeal principles, as we proved above,¹ it is impossible for effects that are caused exclusively by the intellectual nature to be produced by the power of a heavenly body. Now in these works of magicians, things appear that are exclusively the work of a rational nature—for instance, answers are given about stolen goods and the like—and this could not be done except by an intelligence. Therefore, it is not true that all such effects are caused by the mere power of a heavenly body.

If, however, someone say that these apparitions are present not to the sensorial organ, but only to the imagination, this is, in the first place, apparently untrue. For imaginary forms do not seem real to anyone unless his external senses be suspended, since it is not possible for a person to look on a likeness as a reality unless the natural judgements of the senses are tied. Now these conversations and apparitions are addressed to those who have free use of their external senses. Therefore, these apparitions and speeches cannot be imaginary.

Besides, no imaginary forms can lead a person to intellectual knowledge beyond the natural or acquired faculty of his intellect. This is evident in dreams, since even if they contain some indication of the future, it is not every dreamer that understands the meaning of his dreams. Now, in these apparitions and speeches that occur in the works of magicians, it frequently happens that a person obtains knowledge of things surpassing the faculty of his intelligence, such as the discovery of hidden treasure, the manifestation of the future, and sometimes even true answers are given in matters of science. Either, therefore, these apparitions or speeches are not purely imaginary, or at least it is the work of some higher intelligence, and not only of a heavenly body, that a person obtain the aforesaid knowledge through these imaginings.

Again. That which is done by the power of heavenly bodies is a natural effect, since they are natural forms that are caused in this lower world by the powers of heavenly bodies. Hence that which cannot be natural to anything cannot be caused by the power of the heavenly bodies. And yet some such things are stated to be caused by the aforesaid works: for instance, it is averred that at the mere presence of a certain person all doors are unlocked, that a certain man become invisible, and many like occurrences are related. Therefore, this cannot be done by the power of heavenly bodies.

Further. The reception of that which follows through the power of heavenly bodies implies the reception of what precedes. Now movement, of its very nature, is the result of having a soul, since it is proper to animate things to move themselves. Therefore, it is impossible for an inanimate being to be moved by itself through the power of a heavenly body. Yet it is stated that by the magic art an image is made to move of itself, or to speak.¹ Therefore, it is not possible for the effects of the magic art to be caused by a celestial power.

And if it be said that the image in question is endowed with some vital principle by the power of the heavenly bodies, this is impossible. For the principle of life in all living things is the substantial form, because in living things to be is to live, as the Philosopher says.¹ Now, it is impossible for anything to receive anew a substantial form unless it lose the form which it had previously, since the generation of one thing is the corruption of another.² But in the making of an image no substantial form is discarded, and there is only a change of shape, which is an accident, since the form of copper or something of the kind remains. Therefore, the image in question cannot possibly be endowed with the vital principle.

Further. If anything is moved by a principle of life it necessarily has sensation, for the principle of movement is sensation or understanding. But understanding is not found without sensation in things that come to be and pass away. Now there cannot be sensation where there is not the sense of touch; nor the sense of touch without an organ of mean temperature. Such a temperature, however, is not found in the stone or wax or metal out of which the statue is made. It is not possible, therefore, that statues of this sort should be moved by a principle of life.

Besides. Perfect living things are generated not only by a celestial power, but also from seed, for man and the sun generate man. Those which are generated by a celestial power alone without seed are animals formed by putrefaction; these belong to a lower grade than the others. Accordingly, if these images be endowed with the vital principle by a celestial power alone, so as to move themselves, it follows that they belong to the lowest grade of animals. And yet this would be false if they worked by an intrinsic principle of life, since among their operations some are of a high degree, for they give answers about hidden things. Therefore, it is not possible that their operations and movements proceed from a principle of life.

Again. We find sometimes a natural effect produced by the power of heavenly bodies without the operation of art: thus, although one may produce frogs or something of the kind by means of some artifice, frogs do happen to be produced without any artifice. Consequently, if these images that are made by necromancy are endowed with the vital principle by the power of heavenly bodies, it will be possible for them to be formed without the operation of art. But this is not the case. Therefore, it is evident that such images have not the principle of life, nor are they moved by the power of heavenly bodies.

Hereby we refute the opinion of Hermes who, according to Augustine, expressed himself thus: As God is the cause of the heavenly gods, so man fashions the gods that reside in temples, being satisfied to live near men. I refer to those animal images, endowed with sense and spirit, that do great and wonderful things, images gifted with knowledge of the future, and who foretell by dreams and many other things; who afflict men with ailments and heal them, who bring sorrow and joy to them according to their merits.¹

This opinion is also refuted by divine authority. For it is said in the Psalm: The idols of the nations are silver and gold, the work of men’s hands. They have mouths, but they speak not, they have eyes, but they see not, they have ears, but they hear not, nor is there any breath in their mouths (Ps 135[134]:15–17).

Yet seemingly we must not absolutely deny the possibility of some kind of efficacy being in these things through the power of the heavenly bodies, but only for such effects as certain lower bodies are able to cause by the power of the heavenly bodies.¹

Whence the works of magicians derive their efficacy

It remains for us to inquire whence the magic arts derive their efficacy: a question that will present no difficulty if we consider their mode of operation.

For in the practice of their art they make use of certain significative words, in order to produce certain definite effects. Now, words, insofar as they signify something, have no power except as derived from some intellect, either that of the speaker or of the person to whom they are spoken. They are from the intellect of the speaker when an intellect is of such great power that it can cause things by its mere thought, the voice serving to convey, as it were, this thought to the things that are to be produced. They are from the intellect of the person to whom the words are addressed when the hearer is induced to do some particular thing through his intellect receiving the signification of those words. Now, it cannot be said that these significative words uttered by magicians derive efficacy from the intellect of the speaker. For, since power follows essence, diversity of power indicates diversity of essential principles. Moreover, man’s intellect is invariably of such a disposition that its knowledge is caused by things, rather than that it is able by its mere thought to cause things. Consequently, if there be any men that are able of their own power to transform things by words expressive of their thoughts, they will belong to another species, and it would be an equivocation to call them men.

Further. By learning we acquire not the power to do a thing, but the knowledge of how to do it. Yet some, by learning, are rendered able to perform these magic works. Therefore, they must have not only knowledge but also the power to produce these effects.

If someone say that these men are born with the aforesaid power by the influence of the stars, while others are excluded from it, so that, however much the others who are born without this power may be instructed, they cannot succeed in performing these works; we reply first that, as shown above,¹ heavenly bodies cannot make an impression on the intellect. Therefore, through the influence of the stars, a man’s intellect cannot receive a power whereby the vocal expression of its thoughts is productive of something.

And if it be said that the imagination produces an effect in the utterance of significative words, and that heavenly bodies can work on the imagination since its operation is performed by a bodily organ, this does not apply to all the results produced by this art. For we have shown¹ that these effects cannot all be produced by the power of the stars. Neither, therefore, can anyone receive the power to produce those effects by the power of the stars.

Consequently, it follows that these effects are accomplished by an intellect to whom the discourse of the person uttering these words is addressed. We have an indication of this in the fact that the significative words employed by the magician are invocations, supplications, adjurations, or even commands as though he were addressing another.

Again. Certain characters and definite figures are employed in the observances of this art. Now a figure cannot be the principle of either action or passion; otherwise, mathematical bodies would be active and passive. Therefore, matter cannot be disposed by definite figures to receive a certain natural effect. Therefore, magicians do not employ figures as dispositions. It remains, then, that they employ them only as signs, for there is no third solution. But we make signs only to other intelligent beings. Therefore, the magic arts derive their efficacy from another intelligent being, to whom the magician’s words are addressed.

And if someone say that certain figures are appropriate to certain heavenly bodies, and so the lower bodies are determined by certain figures to receive the impressions of certain heavenly bodies, this seems to be an unreasonable statement. For the patient is not directed to receive the impression of the agent except through being in potency. Hence those things alone that cause it to be somehow in potency determine it to receive a particular impression. Now figures do not cause matter to be in potency to any particular form, because a figure, as such, abstracts from all matter and sensible forms, since it is something mathematical. Therefore, a body is not determined by figures or characters to receive the influence of a heavenly body.

Further. As we have shown, matter is in no way disposed to form by means of figures. Hence the bodies on which these figures are impressed are as capable of receiving the influence of heavenly bodies as other bodies of the same species. Now, that a thing acts on one rather than another of several equally disposed, by reason of something appropriate to be found in it, is a mark of its operating not by natural necessity, but by choice. Hence it is clear that these arts which employ figures in order to produce certain effects derive their efficacy not from something that acts by nature, but from some intellectual substance that acts by intelligence.

This is also proved by the very name of character, which they apply to these figures: for a character is a sign. Whereby we are given to understand that they employ these figures merely as signs shown to some intellectual nature.

Since, however, in the products of art figures are like specific forms, someone might say that there is no reason why, through the influence of a heavenly body, some power should not shape the figure that gives an image its species; not indeed as a figure, but as specifying the product of art, which acquires this power from the stars. But as to the letters that form an inscription on an image, and other characters, nothing else can be said of them but that they are signs: hence they are directed to an intelligence only. This is also proved by the sacrifices, prostrations, and other similar practices, which can be nothing else than signs of reverence shown to an intellectual nature.

That the intellectual substance which gives efficacy to the practices of magic is not good according to virtue

We must furthermore inquire what is this intellectual nature by whose power these works are done.

And in the first place it is plain that it is not good and praiseworthy, for it is the mark of an ill-disposed mind to countenance things contrary to virtue. Now this is done in these arts: for they are often employed in order to further adultery, theft, murder and like malefices; therefore, those who practice these arts are called ‘malefics.’ Therefore, the intellectual nature on whose assistance these arts depend is not well disposed according to virtue.

Again. It is not the mark of a mind well disposed according to virtue to befriend and assist men of evil life, rather than every upright man. Now those who practice these arts are often men of evil life. Therefore, the intellectual nature from whose assistance these arts derive their efficacy is not well disposed according to virtue.

Further. It is the mark of a well disposed mind to guide men towards those goods that are proper to man, namely the goods of reason. Consequently, to lead men away from these, and to draw men to goods of the least worth, shows a mind of evil disposition. Now by these arts men progress not in the goods of reason, which are science and virtue, but in goods of least account, such as the discovery of stolen goods, the capture of thieves, and so forth. Therefore, the intellectual substances whose assistance these arts employ are not well disposed according to virtue.

Moreover. There is a certain deception and unreasonableness in the works of these arts, for they require a man not drawn to lustful pleasure, while they are frequently employed to further lustful intercourse. But there is nothing unreasonable or contradictory in the work of a well-disposed mind. Therefore, these arts do not employ the assistance of an intellect that is well disposed as to virtue.

Again. The proper good of the intellect is truth. Since, therefore, it belongs to good to lead others to good, it belongs to any well-disposed intellect to lead others to truth. In the works of the magicians, however, many things are done by which men are mocked and deceived. The intellect whose help they use, therefore, is not morally well disposed.

Further. A well-disposed intellect is allured by truth, in which it takes delight, but not by lies. The magicians, however, in their invocations make use of various lies by which they allure those whose help they employ; for they threaten certain impossible things, as, for instance, that unless the one who is called upon gives help, he who invokes him will shatter the heavens or displace the stars, as Porphyry narrates in his Letter to Anebontes.¹ Those intellectual substances, therefore, with whose help the works of the magicians are performed do not seem to be intellectually well disposed.

Moreover. That a superior should be subject as an inferior to one that commands him, or that an inferior should allow himself to be invoked as a superior, would seem to indicate a person of an ill-disposed mind. Now, magicians call upon those whose assistance they employ as though these were their superiors, and as soon as they appear, they command them as inferiors. In no way, therefore, are they seemingly of a well-disposed mind.

Hereby we refute the error of pagans who ascribed these works to the gods.

That the intellectual substance whose assistance is employed in the magic arts is not evil in its nature

It is impossible that there be natural malice in the intellectual substances whose assistance is employed in the practice of the magic arts.

For if a thing tends to something by its nature, it tends to it not accidentally but essentially, as a heavy body tends downwards. Now if these intellectual substances are evil essentially, they tend to evil naturally: consequently, this is not accidentally but essentially. But this is impossible: for we have proved¹ that all things tend essentially to good, and nothing tends to evil except accidentally. Therefore, these intellectual substances are not naturally evil.

Again. Everything that exists must be either cause or caused: otherwise there would be no order between it and other things. Hence the substances in question are either causes only, or are also caused. If they be causes, since evil cannot cause a thing save accidentally (as proved above),¹ and since whatever is accidental must be traced to something essential,² it follows that there must be in them something preceding their malice by which they are causes. Now in each thing it is the nature and essence that comes first. Therefore, these substances are not evil by nature.

The same follows if they be caused. For no agent acts except with a good purpose. Therefore, evil cannot be the effect of a cause except accidentally. Now that which is caused only by accident cannot exist naturally, since every nature has a definite mode of coming into being. Therefore, it is impossible for the substances in question to be evil by nature.

Besides. Every being has its proper existence proportionate to its nature. Now existence, as such, is good: a sign of which is that all things desire existence.¹ Consequently, if these substances were evil by nature, they would have no existence.

Moreover. We have proved¹ that nothing can exist that has not existence from the first being: and that the first being is the highest good.² Since, then, every agent, as such, produces its like,³ whatever proceeds from the first being must be good. Therefore, the aforesaid substances cannot be evil insofar as they exist and have a certain nature.

Further. There cannot possibly exist a thing that is altogether deprived of a participation of good, for, since the good and the appetible are the same, if a thing were utterly void of good, there would be nothing appetible in it; and its own existence is appetible to everything. Consequently, if anything be described as evil in its nature, this must be not because it is simply evil, but because it is evil to some person, or in some respect. Thus poison is not evil simply, but to one to whom it is harmful. Hence one man’s poison is another man’s meat. Now, this happens because the particular good that is proper to one is contrary to the particular good that is proper to another: thus heat, which is the good of fire, is contrary to cold, which is the good of water, and destroys it. Accordingly, that which by its nature is directed not to this or that good, but to good simply, cannot possibly be called evil by its nature, even in this way. And such is every intellect, because its good is in its own operation, the object of which is the universal, and things that exist simply. Therefore, no intellect can be evil in its nature, either simply or in relation to something else.

Again. In every intellectual subject, the intellect moves the appetite in the natural order; for the proper object of the will is the good understood. Now the good of the will consists in its following the intellect: thus, in us, good is that which is according to reason, and whatever is beside this is evil. In the natural order, therefore, the intellectual substance wills the good. Consequently, it is impossible that the intellectual substances whose assistance is employed by magical arts be naturally evil.

Further. No cognitive faculty fails in the knowledge of its object, save on account of being defective or corrupted, since by its very nature it is directed to the knowledge of that object: thus the sight does not fail in the perception of color unless the sight itself be injured. Now, every defect and corruption is beside nature, because nature aims at the being and perfection of a thing. Therefore, no cognitive faculty can fail in the right judgment of its object. Now, the proper object of the intellect is the true. Therefore, there cannot be an intellect that errs naturally in the knowledge of truth. Neither, therefore, can any will stray naturally from the good.

This is confirmed by the authority of Scripture. For it is said: Everything created by God is good (1 Tim 4:4); and: God saw everything that he had made, and they were very good (Gen 1:31).

Hereby also we refute the error of the Manicheans who held that these intellectual substances, whom we are wont to call demons or devils, are naturally evil.

We also exclude the error described by Porphyry in his letter to Anebontes, where he says that some are of opinion that there is a genus of spirits whose speciality it is to grant the prayers of magicians: spirits naturally deceitful, appearing under all kinds of forms, pretending to be gods, or demons, or souls of the departed. It is they who cause all these effects that seem either good or evil. As to those that are really good, they give no assistance; in fact they know nothing about them. But they counsel evil, and impugn and sometimes hinder those who are intent on leading a virtuous life: they are full of presumption and arrogance; they delight in vanities, and are fascinated by flattery.¹ These words of Porphyry indicate clearly enough the malice of the demons, whose assistance the magic arts employ. His words are reprehensible only in that he states this malice to be natural to the demons.

Arguments that would seem to prove that there can be no sin in the demons

Since malice in the demons is not natural to them, and since it has been proved¹ that they are evil, it follows of necessity that the evil in them is voluntary. Accordingly, we must inquire how this can be.

For it would seem altogether impossible. For we proved in the second book¹ that no intellectual substance is naturally united to a body except the human soul, or, according to some, the souls of the heavenly bodies,² which it is unreasonable to deem evil, since the movement of heavenly bodies is most orderly, and is the principle of the entire natural order in a sense. Now, every other cognitive power, except the intellect, employs animate corporeal organs. Therefore, the substances in question cannot have any cognitive power besides the intellect. Therefore, whatever they know, they understand. Now one does not err in what one understands, since all error results from lack of understanding. Therefore, there can be no error in the knowledge of those substances. But there can be no sin in the will without error, because the will always tends to the apprehended good; so that unless there be error in the apprehension of a good, there cannot be sin in the will. Therefore, it seems there can be no sin of the will in those substances.

Again. In us, sin occurs in the will about matters of which we have true knowledge in general through the judgment of the reason being hindered by a passion that shackles the reason in a particular instance. But there can be no such passions in the demons; for passions belong to the sensitive faculty, which exercises no operation without a corporeal organ. Consequently, if these separate substances have right knowledge in general, it is impossible for their will to tend to evil through defective knowledge in a particular matter.

Moreover. No cognitive faculty is deceived about its proper object, but only about one that is outside its purview. Thus the sight is not deceived in its judgment about colors, but deception may occur if a man judge by sight of taste, or of the species of a thing. Now, the proper object of the intellect is the quiddity of a thing. Consequently, there can be no deception in the knowledge of the intellect if it were to apprehend the mere quiddities of things, and all deception of the intellect would seem to occur through its apprehending forms mingled with phantasms, as is the case with us. But this mode of knowledge is not in intellectual substances that are not united to bodies, since there can be no phantasms apart from a body. Therefore, there can be no error in the knowledge of separate substances, and consequently neither can there be sin in the will.

Besides. In us, falsehood occurs in the intellectual operations of synthesis and analysis through the intellect not absolutely apprehending the quiddity of a thing, and coupling something with the thing apprehended. Now falsehood does not occur except accidentally in the operation whereby the intellect apprehends what a thing is—insofar as in this operation also there is a certain mixture of the intellectual operation of synthesis and analysis. This happens because our intellect attains to the knowledge of the quiddity of a thing not at once, but in a certain order of inquiry. Thus at first we apprehend animal, then we divide it by opposite differences, and setting one of these aside, add the other to the genus, until we come to the definition of the species. In this process there may be falsehood, if we take one that is not a difference of the genus as a difference of the genus. Now, to proceed thus to the knowledge of what a thing is belongs to an intellect that discourses from one thing to another by reasoning, and is not becoming to separate intellectual substances, as we proved above.¹ Seemingly, therefore, there can be no error in the knowledge of such substances: consequently, neither can there be sin in their will.

Again. In us, sin of the will results from excess or deficiency, between which virtue stands.¹ Consequently, in matters that do not admit of excess and deficiency, but only of the mean, the will cannot sin. Thus no man can sin in desiring justice, since justice itself is a kind of mean. Now separate substances cannot desire other than intellectual goods, for it is absurd to say that things by nature incorporeal desire corporeal goods, or that those which have no senses desire sensible goods. But in intellectual goods there can be no excess, for by their very nature they are a mean between excess and deficiency. Thus the truth is a mean between two errors, one of which is on the side of excess, the other on that of deficiency; hence both sensible and corporeal goods are in the mean insofar as they are according to reason. Therefore, it seems that intellectual separate substances cannot sin in the will.

Moreover. An incorporeal substance is, seemingly, more remote from defects than a corporeal substance. Now, no defect can occur in these corporeal substances that are remote from contrariety, namely, the heavenly bodies. Much less, therefore, can any sin occur in separate substances that are remote both from contrariety, and from matter, and from movement, which seem to be the sources of any possible defect.

That sin is possible in the demons, and how

That sin of the will is in the demons is clear from the authority of Scripture. For it is said that the devil has sinned from the beginning (1 John 3:8); and it is said that the devil is a liar and the father of lies, and that he was a murderer from the beginning (John 8:44); and that through the devil’s envy death entered the world (Wis 2:24).

If anyone chose to follow the opinions of the Platonists, he would easily explain these authorities. For they assert that demons have a body composed of air, and so, since they have a body united to them, there can be a faculty of sense in them. Hence they ascribe to them passions which in us are a cause of sin—anger, hate and the like—and thus Apuleius says that they are passive in mind.

Moreover, independently of their being united to bodies, as the Platonists aver, perhaps yet another kind of knowledge might be assigned to them besides that of the intellect. For, according to Plato, the sensitive soul also is incorruptible,¹ so that it must have an operation in which the body does not concur. Consequently, nothing prevents the operation of the sensitive soul, and therefore the passions, from being in an intellectual substance, even though it be not united to a body. Hence the same source of sin is seated in them as in us.

But both of these explanations are impossible. For it has been proved above¹ that with the exception of human souls, no other intellectual substances are united to bodies. And the operations of the sensitive soul are impossible apart from a body is clear from the fact that when a sensorial organ is destroyed, the one operation of the sense is destroyed: thus sight ceases with the loss of an eye. For this reason as soon as the organ of touch is destroyed, the animal must die, for it cannot live without it.²

In order to solve the question proposed, then, we must observe that just as there is order among active causes, so too is there in final causes, namely, so that the secondary end depends on the principal end, even as the secondary agent depends on the principal agent. Now, a fault occurs in active causes when the secondary agent strays from the order of the principal agent; just as when through being crooked the tibia fails to accomplish the movement commanded by the appetitive power, and the result is a limping gait. In the same way, therefore, in final causes, when the secondary end is not subordinate to the principal end, there is sin in the will, whose object is the good and the end.

Now every will naturally desires that which is the proper good of the willer, namely perfect being, nor can it will anything contrary to this. Accordingly, no sin of the will can occur in a willer whose proper good is the ultimate end, which is not subordinate to any other end, and to which all other ends are subordinate. Such a willer is God, whose being is the highest good, which is the ultimate end. Therefore, there can be no sin of the will in God.

But in every other willer, whose proper good must be subordinate to another good, sin of the will can occur if we consider him in his nature. For, though the natural inclination of the will in every willer be to will and love his own perfection, so that it cannot will anything contrary thereto, yet it is not naturally implanted in him so that he directs his perfection to another end unfailingly, since the higher end is not his proper end, but that of the superior nature. Therefore, it is left to his discretion to direct his own perfection to a higher end. For beings endowed with a will differ from those which are not so endowed in that the former direct themselves and what is theirs to an end; therefore, they are said to have free-will. But the latter do not direct themselves to an end, but are directed by a higher agent, being, as it were, moved to the end by another’s action, and not by their own.

Hence there could be sin in the will of a separate substance through his not directing his own good and perfection to his last end, and adhering to his own good as his end. And since rules of action must be taken from the end, the consequence was that, through making himself his own end, he pretended to submit other things to his rule, and that his will was not subject to another higher than himself. But this belongs to God alone. In this sense, then, we are to understand that he desired to be equal to God (Isa 14:13–14): not that his good might be equal to the divine good, because such a thing could not come into his mind, and because by desiring it he would desire not to be, since the distinction of species is according to the various degrees of things, as is clear from what has been said above.¹

Now, the will to rule others, and the refusal to submit one’s will to the ruling of a superior, is the will to be supreme and in a certain way not to be subject, which is the sin of pride. Hence it is reasonably said that the demon’s first sin was pride. But as errors various and manifold result from one error about a principle, so from the first disorder in the demon’s will there arose all manner of sins in his will, both of hatred towards God as resisting his pride and most justly punishing his fault, and of envy towards man, and of many such sins.

We must also observe that, as the proper good of a thing is subordinate to several higher goods, the willer is free to depart from the order of one superior, and not from the order of another that is either higher or lower than the former. Thus a soldier who is subordinate both to his king and to his general can direct his will to the good of the general, and not that of the king, or vice versa. But if the general depart from the order of the king, the will of the soldier will be good if he departs from the will of his general, and directs his own will to his king, and the will of the soldier who obeys the will of his general against the will of his king will be evil. For the order of the lower principle depends on the order of the higher. Now, separate substances are not only subordinate to God, but one of them is subordinate to another, from the first to the last, as we proved in the second book.¹ And since in every willer under God there can be sin of the will, if he is considered in his nature, it was possible for one of the higher separate substances, or even the highest of all, to sin in his will. And this indeed is not improbable; for he would not have rested in his good as his end unless that good were very perfect. It could have happened, then, that some of the lower separate substances directed their good to him by their own will, thus departing from the divine order, and so sinned even as he did, while others, adhering to the divine order by the movement of their will, rightly departed from the order of the one who sinned, although he was higher than they in the natural order. In the fourth book,² we shall show how in either case that will of theirs continues unchangeable, for this regards the punishments or rewards of the good or wicked.

There is, however, this difference between a man and a separated substance: in any one man there are several appetitive powers which are subordinated one to the other. But this is not the case with separate substances, although one substance is subordinated to another. Now sin occurs in the will whenever the inferior appetite is turned aside. Therefore, just as sin would be brought about in a separate substance either by its being turned aside from the divine order or because an inferior substance is turned aside from its order to a superior one, which latter remains under the divine order, so in a man sin occurs in two ways. It occurs in one way from the fact that the human will does not direct its proper good to God; this sin is common both to man and to separate substances. It occurs in another way from the fact that the lower appetite is not regulated with regard to the higher: for instance, as when we will the delights of the flesh, towards which the concupiscible appetite tends, not in accordance with reason. But this kind of sin is not found in separate substances.

Consequently, it is not difficult to solve the objections that have been raised.¹

For we are not forced to say that there was error in the intellect of the separate substance by judging a good not to be good, but through not considering the higher good to which his own good should have been referred. His will, through being intent on his own good, could be the cause of this lack of consideration. For the will is free to turn to this or that.

It is also clear that he desired but one good, and that was his own good, but his sin consisted in his disregarding the higher good, to which his own should have been directed. For just as in us there is sin through our desiring inferior goods (namely, those of the body) outside the order of reason, so in the devil was there sin through his not referring his own good to the divine.

It is also clear that he strayed from the mean of virtue inasmuch as he did not submit to the order of his superior, and so gave himself more than his due, and to God less than was due to him, as the sovereign rule to whose order all things should be subject. Consequently, it is evident that in this sin the mean was not missed through excess of passion, but merely through inequality of justice, which is about operations. For in separate substances there can be operations, but passions not at all.

Nor does it follow that because there can be no defects in the higher bodies, there can be no sin in separate substances. For bodies and all irrational beings are acted upon, and do not put themselves in action, for they have no dominion over their actions. Hence they cannot escape the first rule that puts them in action and moves them, unless they be unable to receive adequately the rectitude of the supreme rule, owing to an indisposition of matter. Therefore, the higher bodies, in which there cannot be any indisposition of matter, can never depart from the rectitude of the first rule. But rational or intellectual substances are not only acted upon, but they also move themselves to their own actions. And this applies to them all the more according as their nature is the more perfect, since the more perfect a thing’s nature, the more perfect is its power for action. Consequently, the perfection of their nature does not prevent the possibility of sin in them in the manner explained above (namely, through adhering to themselves and disregarding the order of the superior agent).

That rational creatures are subject to divine providence in a special manner

From what has been proved up to now,¹ it is evident that divine providence extends to all things. And yet there must be some special kind of providence bestowed on intellectual and rational creatures in preference to others.

For they surpass other creatures both in the perfections of their nature and in the excellence of their end. In the perfection of their nature, because the rational creature alone has dominion over its action, since it moves itself freely to act, while other creatures are moved to their proper actions rather than act themselves, as was proved above.¹ In the excellence of their end, because the intellectual creature alone attains to the last end of the universe by its operation, that is, by knowing and loving God: but other creatures cannot attain to the last end except by a certain participation of his likeness. Now, actions vary in kind according to the diversity of end and of their subject matter. Thus in art the operations vary according to the difference of end and matter. For a physician acts differently to expel sickness, and to confirm health; he acts yet differently in bodies of different temperament. In like manner, a different kind of order must be observed in the government of a state according to the different status of the subjects, and according to the different ends to which they are directed, for there must be a different rule for soldiers to make them ready to fight, and for craftsmen to make them able to work. Accordingly, there is one kind of order whereby rational creatures are subject to divine providence, and another whereby other creatures are subject thereto.

That rational creatures are governed for their own sake, and other creatures as directed to them

In the first place then, the very condition of the rational creature, in that it has dominion over its actions, requires that the care of providence should be bestowed on it for its own sake. But the condition of other things that do not have dominion over their actions shows that they are cared for not for their own sake, but as being directed to other things. For that which acts only when moved by another is like an instrument; but that which acts by itself is like a principal agent. Now an instrument is required not for its own sake, but that the principal agent may use it. Hence whatever is done for the care of the instruments must be referred to the principal agent as its end, but any such action directed to the principal agent as such, either by the agent itself or by another, is for the sake of the same principal agent. Accordingly, intellectual creatures are ruled by God as though he cared for them for their own sake, while other creatures are ruled as being directed to rational creatures.

Again. That which has dominion over its own act is free in its action, because he is free who is cause of himself:¹ whereas that which by some kind of necessity is moved by another to act is subject to slavery. Therefore, every other creature is naturally under slavery; the intellectual nature alone is free. Now, in every government provision is made for the free for their own sake, but for slaves that they may be useful to the free. Accordingly, divine providence makes provision for the intellectual creature for its own sake, but for other creatures for the sake of the intellectual creature.

Moreover. Whenever certain things are directed to a certain end, if any of them are unable of themselves to attain to the end, they must be directed to those that attain to the end, which are directed to the end for their own sake. Thus the end of the army is victory, which the soldiers obtain by their own action in fighting, and they alone in the army are required for their own sake; but all others to whom other duties are assigned (such as the care of horses and the preparing of arms) are requisite for the sake of the soldiers of the army. Now, it is clear from what has been said¹ that God is the last end of the universe, whom the intellectual nature alone obtains in himself, namely, by knowing and loving him, as was proved above.² Therefore, the intellectual nature alone is requisite for its own sake in the universe, and all others for its sake.

Further. In every whole, the principal parts are requisite on their own account for the completion of the whole, while others are required for the preservation or betterment of the former. Now, of all the parts of the universe, intellectual creatures hold the highest place, because they approach nearest to the divine likeness. Therefore, divine providence provides for the intellectual nature for its own sake, and for all others for its sake.

Besides. Whatever happens to a thing in the course of nature happens to it naturally. Now, we see that in the course of nature the intellectual substance uses all others for its own sake: either for the perfection of the intellect, which sees the truth in them as in a mirror; or for the execution of its power and development of its knowledge, in the same way as a craftsman develops the conception of his art in corporeal matter; or again to sustain the body that is united to an intellectual soul, as is the case in man. It is clear, therefore, that God cares for all things for the sake of intellectual substances.

Moreover. If a man seek something for its own sake, he seeks it always, because what is of itself is always: whereas if he seek a thing on account of something else, he does not of necessity seek it always, but only in reference to that for the sake of which he seeks it. Now, as we proved above,¹ things derive their being from the divine will. Therefore, whatever is always is willed by God for its own sake; and what is not always is willed by God not for its own sake, but for another’s. Now, intellectual substances approach nearest to being always, since they are incorruptible. Moreover, they are unchangeable, except in their choice. Therefore, intellectual substances are governed for their own sake, as it were, and others for the sake of intellectual substances.

The fact that all the parts of the universe are directed to the perfection of the whole is not in contradiction with the foregoing conclusion, since all the parts are directed to the perfection of the whole, insofar as one part serves another. Thus in the human body it is clear that the lungs belong to the body’s perfection, in that they serve the heart: hence there is no contradiction in the lungs being for the sake of the heart and for the sake of the whole animal. In like manner, that other natures are on account of the intellectual is not contrary to their being for the perfection of the universe: for without the things required for the perfection of the intellectual substance, the universe would not be complete.

Nor again does the fact that individuals are for the sake of the species militate against what has been said. Through being directed to their species, they are directed also to the intellectual nature. For a corruptible thing is directed to man not on account of only one individual man, but on account of the whole human species. Yet a corruptible thing could not serve the whole human species, except as regards its own entire species. Hence the order whereby corruptible things are directed to man requires that individuals be directed to the species.

When we assert that intellectual substances are directed by divine providence for their own sake, we do not mean that they are not also referred to God and for the perfection of the universe. Accordingly, they are said to be provided for on their own account, and others on account of them, because the goods bestowed on them by divine providence are not given them for another’s profit. But those bestowed on others are in the divine plan intended for the use of intellectual substances.

Hence it is said: Beware, lest you lift up your eyes to heaven, and when you see the sun and the moon and the other stars,¹ you be drawn away and worship them and serve them, things which the Lord your God has allotted to all the peoples under the whole heaven (Deut 4:19); and: You have put all things under his feet, all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field (Ps 8:6–7); and: You who are sovereign in strength do judge with mildness, and with great forbearance you do govern us (Wis 12:18).

Hereby is refuted the error of those who said it is sinful for a man to kill dumb animals: for by divine providence they are intended for man’s use in the natural order. Hence it is no wrong for man to make use of them, either by killing or in any other way whatever. For this reason the Lord said to Noah: As I gave you the green plants, I have delivered all flesh to you¹ (Gen 9:3).

And if any passages of Sacred Scripture seem to forbid us to be cruel to dumb animals—for instance, to kill a bird with its young (Deut 22:6)—this is either to remove man’s thoughts from being cruel to other men, and lest through being cruel to animals one become cruel to human beings; or because injury to an animal leads to the temporal hurt of man, either of the doer of the deed, or of another; or on account of some signification: thus the Apostle expounds (1 Cor 9:9) the prohibition against muzzling an ox when it treads out the grain (Deut 25:4).

That the rational creature is directed to its action by God not only in its relation to the species, but also in its relation to the individual

Hence it is clear that the rational creature alone is directed to its actions by God with due regard not only to the species, but also to the individual. For it seems that everything is on account of its operation, since operation is the ultimate perfection of a thing. Therefore, each thing is directed to its action by God according as it stands under divine providence. Now, the rational creature stands under divine providence as being governed and cared for on its own account, and not on account of the species only like other corruptible creatures. For the individual that is governed only for the sake of the species is not governed for its own sake, but the rational creature is governed for its own sake, as we have made clear.¹ Accordingly, rational creatures alone are directed by God to their actions for the sake not only of the species, but also of the individual.

Besides. Things that are directed in their actions only so far as these refer to the species have not the power to act or not to act, since whatever results from the species is common and natural to all the individuals contained in the species, and we have no choice about natural things. Hence if man were directed in his actions in reference only to the demands of the species, he would not have the power to act, or not to act, and he would have to follow the natural inclination common to the whole species, as is the case with all irrational creatures. It is therefore clear that rational creatures are directed in their actions with regard not only to the species, but also to the individual.

Moreover. As we proved above,¹ divine providence extends to every single thing, even the least. Therefore, whatever things have actions outside the inclination of nature must in such actions receive from divine providence a direction besides that which regards the species. Now, many actions are apparent in the rational creature for which the inclination of the species is not sufficient. A sign of this is that they are not the same in all, but differ in different subjects. Therefore, the rational creature must be directed to its actions by God with reference not only to the species, but also to the individual.

Again. God provides for every nature according to its capacity, for he made each creature such that he knew it to be adapted to obtain its end through being governed by him. Now, the rational creature alone is capable of being directed to its actions in respect not only of the species but also of the individual, because it has intellect and reason, so as to be able to perceive the different ways in which a certain thing is good or evil in relation to various persons, times, and places. Therefore, the rational creature alone is directed by God to its actions in respect not only of the species, but also of the individual.

Again. The personal acts of a rational creature are properly those that proceed from the rational soul. Now, the rational soul is capable of perpetuity not only in respect of the species, like other creatures, but also in respect of the individual. Therefore, the actions of a rational creature are directed by divine providence not only in the point of their belonging to the species, but also inasmuch as they are personal.

Hence it is that, though all things are subject to divine providence, yet Sacred Scripture ascribes the care of men to it in a special manner; according to the Psalm: What is man that thou art mindful of him? (Ps 8:4[5]); and: Is it for oxen that God is concerned? (1 Cor 9:9). These things are said because God watches over man’s actions not only as belonging to the species, but also as personal acts.

The divine law

That laws are given by God to man

It is evident from this that it was necessary for man to receive laws from God. For, as we have shown,¹ just as the acts of irrational creatures are directed by God, inasmuch as they belong to the species, so are man’s actions directed by God, inasmuch as they belong to the individual. Now, insofar as they are actions belonging to the species, actions of irrational creatures are directed by God by a certain natural inclination, which is consequent to the specific nature. Therefore, in addition to this, something must be given to man whereby he is directed in his personal actions. And this is what we call law.

Again. The rational creature, as stated above,¹ is subject to divine providence in such a way as to participate in a certain likeness of divine providence, inasmuch as it is able to govern itself in its own actions, and other things also. Now, that by which the actions of people are governed is a law. Therefore, it was reasonable that a law should be given to man by God.

Besides. Since a law is nothing else than a reason and rule of action, it is reasonable that to those alone a law be given who know the reason of their action. Now, this applies only to the rational creature. Therefore, it was fitting that a law should be given to the rational creature alone.

Moreover. Since a law is nothing else than a reason of action, and the reason for everyone’s action is his end, everyone who is capable of receiving a law must receive the law from the one who guides him to his end, even as the inferior craftsman is guided by the master-craftsman, and the soldier by the commander-in-chief. Now, the rational creature obtains his last end in God and from God, as we have already shown.¹ Therefore, it was reasonable that a law should be given to men by God.

Hence it is said: I will put my law within them, and I will write it upon their hearts (Jer 31:33), and: I shall write to him my manifold laws (Hos 8:12).

That the divine law directs man chiefly to God

From this we may gather what is the principal intention of the divine law.

For it is evident that every lawgiver intends by his law to direct men to his own end, as the commander-in-chief leads to victory, and the governor of a state to peace. Now the end intended by God is God himself. Therefore, the chief intention of the divine law is to lead men to God.

Again. Law, as stated above,¹ is a rule which God’s governing providence sets before the rational creature. Now the government of God’s providence leads each thing to its proper end. Consequently, the law given by God directs man chiefly to his end. But the end of the human creature is to adhere to God, since in this does his happiness consist, as we have proved above.² Therefore, the divine law directs man chiefly to union with God.

Also. The intention of every lawgiver is to make those good for whom he legislates: hence precepts of law should be about acts of virtue.¹ Therefore, the divine law aims at those acts that are best. Now, of all human acts the best are those whereby man adheres to God, as being most akin to his end. Therefore, the divine law directs man to these acts before all others.

Besides. That which gives a law its force should hold the chief place in the law. But the law given by God derives its force with men from men being subject to God; for no one is bound by the law of a king whose subject he is not. Therefore, the union of man’s mind with God should be the chief thing in the divine law.

Hence it is written: What does the Lord your God require of you, but to fear the Lord your God, to walk in all his ways, to love him, to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul (Deut 10:12).

That the end of God’s law is the love of God

Since the chief intention of God’s law is that man adhere to God, and since man adheres most firmly to God by love, it follows of necessity that the principal purpose of the law is directed to love.

It is evident that man adheres to God principally by love. In man there are two things whereby he can adhere to God, his intellect and his will, for by the inferior faculties of his soul he cannot adhere to God, but to lower beings. But the adhesion of the intellect is completed by the adhesion of the will, because by his will man rests, as it were, in that which the intellect apprehends. Now, the will adheres to a thing either by love or by fear, but not in the same way. For when it adheres to a thing through fear, it adheres on account of something else, namely, in order to avoid an evil that threatens unless it adhere to that thing. But when it adheres to a thing through love, it adheres for its own sake. Now, that which is for its own sake is of more account than that which is for another’s sake.¹ Therefore, to adhere to God by love is to adhere to him in the closest way possible: consequently, this is the chief intention of the divine law.

Again. The end of every, and especially the divine, law is to make men good. Now, man is said to be good because he has a good will, whereby he brings into act whatever good is in him. Also, a will is good through willing the good, and above all the greatest good, which is the end. Therefore, the more his will wills this good, so much the better is the man. Now a man wills more that which he wills on account of love than that which he wills on account of fear alone, for when he wills a thing only through fear, he is partly unwilling: as when a man wills to cast his cargo overboard through fear. Therefore, above all the love of the highest good (namely, God) makes men good, and is intended by the divine law above all else.

Besides. Lawgivers move those to whom the law is given by the command of the law which they promulgate. Now, in all things moved by a first mover, the more a thing participates in that movement, and the nearer it approaches to a likeness to that first mover, the more perfectly is it moved. Now God, the divine lawgiver, does all things on account of his love. Consequently, he who tends to him in that way, namely by loving him, tends to him in the most perfect manner. Now, every agent intends perfection in what he does. Therefore, the end of all legislation is that man love God.

Hence it is said: The end of the commandment is charity (1 Tim 1:5); and that this is the great and first commandment: you shall love the Lord your God (Matt 22:37–38).

Hence too, the new law is called the law of love, as being more perfect, whereas the old law is called the law of fear, as being less perfect.¹

That we are directed by the divine law to the love of our neighbor

From this it follows that the divine law aims at the love of our neighbor.

For there should be union of affection between those who have one common end. Now, men have one common last end, namely happiness, to which they are directed by God. Therefore, men should be united together by mutual love.

Again. Whosoever loves a man loves those whom he loves, and those who are his kindred. Now, men are loved by God, since he prepared for them a last end consisting in the enjoyment of himself. Therefore, as a man is a lover of God, so must he be a lover of his neighbor.

Moreover. Since man by nature is a social animal,¹ he needs assistance from other men in order to obtain his own end. Now this is most suitably done if men love one another mutually. Hence the law of God, which directs men to their last end, commands us to love one another.

Again. In order to apply himself to divine things, man needs calm and peace. Now mutual love, more than anything else, removes the obstacles to peace. Seeing, then, that the divine law directs men to apply themselves to divine things, we must conclude that this same law leads men to love one another.

Therefore, it is said: This is my commandment, that you love one another (John 15:12); and: This commandment we have from him, that he who loves God should love his brother also (1 John 4:21); and that the second commandment is: You shall love your neighbor (Matt 22:39).

That the divine law binds men to the true faith

From this it is clear that the divine law binds men to the true faith.

For just as the beginning of material love is sight exercised through the material eye, so the beginning of spiritual love is the intellectual vision of a spiritual lovable object. Now, the vision of that spiritual lovable object, which is God, is impossible to us in the present life except by faith, because it surpasses natural reason, and especially inasmuch as our happiness consists in the enjoyment of it. Therefore, we need to be brought to the true faith by the divine law.

Again. The divine law directs man to perfect subjection to God.¹ Now, as man is subject to God as to his will by loving him, so is he subject to him as to his intellect by believing in him. Not indeed by believing anything false, since God, who is truth, cannot propose anything false to man; hence he that believes something false does not believe in God. Therefore, the divine law directs man to the true faith.

Also. He who errs about something essential to a thing does not know that thing: thus if anyone, in apprehending an irrational animal, were to think it a man, he would not know man. It would be different were he to err about the accidentals of a thing. In composite things, however, he who errs about any of the essential principles, though he know not the thing simply, yet he knows it in some respect; thus if he thinks a man to be an irrational animal, he knows him in respect of his genus. But this cannot apply to simple things, and any error whatever removes all knowledge of the thing. Now, God is supremely simple. Therefore, to err about God is not to know God: thus he who believes that God is a body knows not God at all, but apprehends something else instead of God. Now, a thing is loved and desired according as it is known. Therefore, he that errs about God can neither love God, nor desire him as his end. Consequently, since the aim of the divine law is to make men love and desire God,¹ that law must bind men to a true faith in God.

Moreover. False opinion in matters of intelligence is like vice opposed to virtue in moral matters, for the true is the good of the intellect.¹ Now, it belongs to the divine law to prohibit vice. Therefore, it belongs to it also to proscribe false opinions about God and things divine.

Hence it is said: Without faith it is impossible to please God (Heb 11:6). Moreover, before other commandments are given, a right faith in God is prescribed when it is said: hear, O Israel, the Lord your¹ God is one (Deut 6:4).²

Hereby is refuted the error of those who maintained that it matters not for man’s salvation with what faith he serves God.

That our mind is directed to God by certain sensible things

Since it is connatural to man to acquire knowledge through the senses, and since it is most difficult to rise above sensible things, divine providence has appointed sensible things as a reminder to man of things divine, so that thus man’s intention might the more readily be recalled to divine things, not excluding the man whose mind is not equal to the contemplation of divine things in themselves.

For this reason sensible sacrifices were instituted, which man offers to God not because God needs them, but that man might be reminded that he must refer both himself and all that is his to God as his end, and as the Creator, Governor and Lord of all.

Again, sensible things are employed for man’s sanctification in the shape of washings, anointings, meat and drink, and the uttering of sensible words, as signifying to man that he receives intelligible gifts from an external source, and from God, whose name is expressed by sensible words.

Moreover, man performs certain sensible actions, not to arouse God, but to arouse himself to things divine: such as prostrations, genuflexions, raising of the voice and singing. Such things are not done as though God needed them, for he knows all things, and his will is unchangeable, and he looks at the affection of the heart, and not the mere movement of the body. We do them for our own sake so that by them our intention may be fixed on God, and our hearts inflamed. At the same time, we thereby confess that God is the author of our soul and body, since we employ both soul and body in the worship we give him.

Hence we must not wonder that heretics who deny that God is the author of our body decry the offering of this bodily worship to God. In which it is clear that they forget that they are men, inasmuch as they deem the presentation of sensible objects to be unnecessary for interior knowledge and affection. For experience shows that by acts of the body the soul is aroused to a certain knowledge or affection. Therefore, it is clearly reasonable that we should employ bodies in order to raise our minds to God.

The offering of these bodily things to God is called the worship (cultus) of God. For we speak of cultivating those things to which we give our thought in the shape of deeds. Now, we give our thought to God in our actions, not indeed that we may be of advantage to him, as when we cultivate other things by our actions, but because by such actions we advance towards God. And, since by internal acts we tend to God directly, we thus worship God by internal acts, properly speaking. Nevertheless, external acts also belong to the divine worship, insofar as by these acts the mind is raised to God, as we have said.

This divine worship is also called religion, because by these acts man tethers (ligat) himself, as it were, lest he stray from God. Also, because by a kind of natural instinct he feels himself obliged in his own way to show reverence to God, from whom flows his being and every good.

Hence religion is called ‘piety.’ For by piety we give due honor to those who begot us. Hence it would seem reasonably the part of piety to honor God, the Father of all. For this reason, those who are averse to the worship of God are said to be impious.

Not only is God the cause and source of our being, but also our whole being is in his power, and all that we have we owe to him. Because of this he is truly our master, and so that which we do to honor him is called ‘service.’

Now, God is Lord not accidentally, as is man of his fellow-man, but by nature. Hence we owe service to God otherwise than to a fellow-man, to whom we are subject accidentally, and who wields over things a restricted dominion that he receives from God. Therefore, the service due to God is called by the special name of latria by the Greeks.

That the worship of latria is due to God alone

There have been some who deemed that the worship of latria should be given not only to the supreme author of all, but to all things, even creatures, that are above man. Hence some, whilst holding God to be the one universal cause of all, considered that we should offer latria first, after the supreme God, to the heavenly intellectual substances, which they called gods, whether such substances were entirely separate from bodies, or animated the spheres or stars.

Second, to other intellectual substances which they believed to be united to aerial bodies, and called demons. Nevertheless, deeming them to be above men, even as an aerial body is above an earthly one, they maintained that these substances should be honored by men with a divine worship, and that in comparison with men they were gods, as being between men and the gods. And as they believed that the souls of good men, through being separated from their bodies, passed to a higher state than that of the present life, they held that divine worship should be given also to the souls of the dead, whom they called heroes or ‘Manes.’

Others, believing God to be the soul of the world, held that divine honor should be given to the whole world and each part of it, not indeed on account of the body, but on account of the soul, which they said was God—even as we honor a wise man not for his body, but for his soul.

Others, again, thought that divine honor should be given even to things which, though beneath man by nature, participate in the power of a higher nature. Therefore, believing that certain images, made by men, receive a certain supernatural power either through the influence of a heavenly body or through the presence of certain spirits, they said that such images should receive divine honor. These images they called gods: for which reason they are called idolaters, because they offered latria to idols (that is, images).

But it is absurd for those who hold that there is but one separate first cause to give divine honor to another. For we worship God, as stated above,¹ not because he needs it, but that true notions about God may be confirmed in us by means of sensible things. Now, the notion that there is but one supreme God cannot be confirmed in us by means of sensible objects except by our offering him something distinct, and this we call the divine worship. It is clear, then, that a true notion about the one cause is weakened if divine worship be given to several.

Again. If the worship of latria were due to a being as superior and not as supreme, since one man, and one angel, is higher than another, it would follow that a man ought to give the worship of latria to another man, and one angel to another angel. And since he who is superior in one respect is inferior in another, the result would be that men would worship one another mutually: which is absurd.

Besides. It is customary among men that a special return be due for a special boon. Now, there is a special boon that man receives from the most high God, namely, his creation: for we proved in the second book¹ that God alone creates. Therefore, man must make to God a special return in recognition of this special boon, and this is the worship of latria.

Moreover. Latria means service, and service is due to a master. Properly and truly, a master is one who orders others to work, and receives orders from none: for he who carries out the orders of another is servant rather than master. Now, God, the supreme cause of all, orders all things to their respective actions by his providence, as we proved above:¹ hence Sacred Scripture describes the angels and higher bodies as serving both God, whose orders they carry out, and us, for whose good they work.² Therefore, the worship of latria, which is due to the sovereign Lord, should be given to none but the supreme cause of all.

Also. Of all things pertaining to latria, sacrifice would seem to hold a special place: for genuflections, prostrations, and other like signs of honor may be given even to men, albeit with another intention than when given to God. But no one has thought that a sacrifice should be offered except to one whom he looked upon, or pretended to look upon, as God. Now the external sacrifice is a representation of the interior true sacrifice in which the human mind offers itself to God. And our mind offers itself to God as the principle of its creation, as the author of its operation, as the end wherein lies its happiness. This can only apply to the supreme cause of all, for it was shown above¹ that God is the sole cause of the rational soul, that he alone can incline the will of man wherever he will,² and that man’s final happiness consists in the enjoyment of him alone.³ To God alone, therefore, must man offer sacrifice and the worship of latria, and not to any spiritual substances whatsoever.

Although the opinion which holds that the most high God is nothing else but the soul of the world is false (as we have proved),¹ while that is true which holds God to be a separate being from whom all other intellectual substances, both separate or embodied, originate, yet the offering of latria to various things is more consistent with the former opinion. For by offering the worship of latria to various things, one would seem to offer the same worship to the one most high God, to whom, according to this opinion, the various parts of the world are compared as the various members of the human body are compared to the soul. But reason again is in contradiction with this opinion. For they assert that the worship of latria should be given to the world not on account of its body, but on account of its soul, which they hold to be God. And though the body of the world is divisible into various parts, the soul is indivisible. Therefore, divine honor is not to be given to many things, but to one only.

Again. If we suppose the world to have a soul that animates the whole and every part of it, this cannot mean the nutritive or sensitive soul, since the operations of these faculties of the soul are not competent to all the parts of the universe. In fact, granted that the world has a sensitive and nutritive soul, the worship of latria would not be due to it on account of a like soul, since neither is it due to animals or plants. It follows, then, that in saying that God, to whom latria is due, is the soul of the world, they mean the intellectual soul. But this soul is not a perfection of certain definite parts of the body, but in some way regards the whole. This is clearly the case with our soul, which is of lower degree: for the intellect does not employ an organ of the body, as is proved in 3 De Anima.¹ Consequently, according to their principle, divine honor would not have to be shown to the various parts of the world, but to the whole, on account of its soul.

Moreover. If, according to their opinion, there is but one soul animating the whole world and all its parts, and if the world is not to be called God save on account of its soul, there will therefore be but one God. Consequently, divine honor is due to one only. And if there be but one soul of the whole, and the various parts again have various souls, they must admit that the souls of the parts are subordinate to the soul of the whole: for the same proportion is between perfections and the things perfected. Now, where there is order among several intellectual substances, the worship of latria is due only to the one that has the highest place, as we proved against the other opinion.¹ Consequently, the worship of latria would have to be given not to the parts of the world, but to the whole alone.

Besides. It is clear that a superior does not owe the worship of latria to an inferior. Now man, in the order of nature, is superior to all inferior bodies at least according as he has a more perfect form. Therefore, man would not have to give the worship of latria to inferior bodies if such worship were due to them by reason of their own souls.

The statement that each part of the world has its own soul, and that the whole world has not one common soul, leads to the same inconsistencies. For it would follow that the highest part of the world has the highest kind of soul to which alone the worship of latria would be due, according to what we have said.

These opinions are surpassed in unreasonableness by the one which states that the worship of latria is to be given to images. For if these images derive power or excellence from the heavenly bodies, this is no reason for giving them the worship of latria, since it is not given to those bodies themselves, except perhaps on account of their souls, as some have asserted.¹ And these images are supposed to receive a certain power from the heavenly bodies in respect of their bodily power.

Again. The cause is more potent than the effect. Now, men are the makers of these images. Therefore, man owes them no worship.

And if it be said that these images derive power or excellence through association with some spiritual substance, this again is insufficient, for the worship of latria is due to no spiritual substance except only to the highest of all.

Again. As these images are sometimes made for producing baneful effects, it is clear that if such effects are brought about by spiritual substances, those spiritual substances are wicked. This is still more clear from the fact that they are deceitful in their answers, and demand of their worshippers things that are contrary to virtue. Hence they are inferior to good men. Consequently, the worship of latria is not due to them.

It is therefore evident from what has been said that the worship of latria is due to the one most high God alone. Hence it is said: Whoever sacrifices to any god, save to the Lord only, shall be utterly destroyed (Exod 22:20); and: You shall adore¹ the Lord your God; you shall serve him only (Deut 6:13). Again, it is said of heathens: Claiming to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man or birds or animals or reptiles (Rom 1:22–23); and further on: They exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator (above all things God)² who is blessed forever (Rom 1:25).

Since, then, it is wrong to give the worship of latria to any other but the first principle of all, and to incite to do wrong belongs only to an ill-disposed rational creature, it is clear that men were urged to the aforesaid unlawful forms of worship at the instigation of the demons, who, coveting divine honor, even offered themselves to man’s worship in the place of God. Hence it is said: All the gods of the gentiles are devils (Ps 96[95]:5); and: What pagans sacrifice they offer to demons and not to God (1 Cor 10:20).

Therefore, since the principal intention of the divine law is that man be subject to God, and give him a peculiar reverence not only in thought, but also in word and deeds of the body, thus in Exodus 20, when God’s law is set forth, first of all the worship of more than one God is forbidden: You shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself a graven image, or any likeness of anything (Exod 20:3–4). Second, man is forbidden to utter irreverently the name of God in order to confirm a falsehood: and this is expressed in the words: You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain (Exod 20:7). Third, a certain time is prescribed for rest from external works, in order that the mind may have leisure to think of God. Hence it is said: Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy (Exod 20:8).

That the divine law directs man according to reason as regards things corporeal and sensible

Just as the human mind can be raised to God by corporeal and sensible things, provided one make right use of them for God’s honor, even so their abuse either wholly withdraws the mind from God (if the will place its end in lower things), or distracts the mind’s intention from God, when we are too attached to those things. Now, the divine law was given chiefly that man might adhere to God.¹ Therefore, it belongs to the divine law to direct man in his love and use of corporeal and sensible things.

Again. Just as the mind of man is subordinate to God, so is the body subordinate to the soul, and the lower powers to reason. Now, it belongs to divine providence, which God sets before man under the form of the divine law,¹ that everything should retain its order. Therefore, man should be directed by the divine law in such a way that the lower powers be subject to reason; the body be subject to the soul; and external things be employed for man’s needs.

Further. Every law that is framed aright is conducive to virtue.¹ Now, virtue is the reason’s rule applied to both interior affections and the use of corporeal things. Therefore, this should be prescribed by the divine law.

Hence it is said: Your reasonable service (Rom 12:1); and: This is the will of God, your sanctification (1 Thess 4:3).

Hereby we refute the error of those who assert that there is no sin unless our neighbor be injured or scandalized.

How simple fornication is a sin according to the divine law, and that matrimony is natural

Hence it is clear how futile is the reasoning of those who say that simple fornication is no sin. For they say: ‘Take, for instance, a woman who is not bound by the marriage tie, or under any authority, paternal or otherwise. If a man have intercourse with her with her consent, he does her no wrong, since she pleases herself, and has the disposal of her own body. He does not wrong a third party, because, in the supposition, she is under no one’s authority. Therefore, there is no sin.’

Nor, seemingly, is it enough to reply that he does a wrong to God, because we do not wrong God unless we wrong our own good, as stated above.¹ But this would not seem to be contrary to man’s good. Consequently, no wrong seems to be done to God thereby.

Likewise, it would not seem to meet the case if one reply that the man wrongs his neighbor by scandalizing him. For one may be scandalized at something that is not a sin in itself, so that it becomes a sin accidentally. But the point at issue is whether simple fornication be a sin, not accidentally, but in itself.

Accordingly, we must seek the solution from what has been said above. For it has been stated¹ that God cares for everything in respect of what is good for it. Now, it is good for everything that it obtain its end, and its evil is that it turn from its end. This applies to the parts as well as to the whole, so that man’s every part, even as his every act, should attain to its due end. Now, though the seed be superfluous for the preservation of the individual, it is necessary for the propagation of the species. Other superfluities such as excretions, urine, sweat and the like are not necessary for anything, and so it is only their discharge that is good for man. Seed, however, has another end in view, since it is emitted for the purpose of generation, which is the object of intercourse. Moreover, generation would be in vain if due nourishment were not to follow, because the offspring would not survive if deprived of its due nourishment. Hence the emission of seed should be ordered in such a way that suitable generation and education of the offspring may follow.

It is therefore clearly contrary to man’s good that the seed be emitted in such a way that generation cannot ensue: if this be done deliberately it must be a sin. I mean if it be done in a way that is directly opposed to generation, such as every emission of seed without the natural union of male and female. Hence sins of this kind are said to be against nature. If, however, it be accidental that generation cannot ensue, it is not on this account contrary to nature or sinful (for instance, if the woman be sterile).

In like manner, it must be contrary to man’s good if, though seed be emitted so that generation can ensue, the proper upbringing of the offspring is hindered. For it must be observed that in those animals in which the female alone suffices for the rearing of the offspring—dogs, for instance—the male and female do not remain together after intercourse. On the other hand, in all cases in which the female does not suffice to rear the offspring, the male and female remain together after intercourse as long as may be necessary for the rearing and development of the young. We have an instance of this in certain birds, whose young are unable to seek food as soon as they are hatched. For, since the bird does not feed its young on milk—which, as in the case of quadrupeds, is ready at hand through being prepared by nature—and needs to go in search of food for them, and besides this fosters them by incubation, the female alone would not suffice for all this. Therefore, divine providence has given the male of such animals the natural instinct to remain with the female for the rearing of the offspring. Now it is clear that in the human species the female is far from sufficing alone for the rearing of the children, since the needs of human life require many things that one person alone cannot provide. It is therefore in keeping with human nature that the man remain with the woman after intercourse, and not leave her at once, indifferent as to what happens, as do fornicators.

Nor is this argument weakened because some woman has sufficient means to rear her offspring by herself. Because natural rectitude in human acts depends not on what is accidentally in one individual, but on that which is proper to the whole species.

Again, we must observe that, in the human species, the offspring needs not only nourishment for its body, as with other animals, but also instruction for its soul. For other animals have their natural forethought which enables them to provide for themselves, but man lives by reason, which can attain to forethought only after long experience. Thus children need to be instructed by their parents, who are experienced. Moreover, children are not capable of this instruction as soon as they are born, but only after a long time, and especially when they reach the age of discretion. Besides, this instruction requires a long time. And even then, on account of the assaults of the passions whereby the judgment of prudence is perverted,¹ they need not only instruction but correction. Now a woman is insufficient for these things—in fact, there is more need for a man for such things, for his reason is more perfect for instruction, and his arm is stronger for punishment. Consequently, a short space of time, such as suffices for birds, is not sufficient for the education of the offspring in the human species, and a great part of life is required for the purpose. Thus as in all animals the male must remain with the female as long as the father is needed by the offspring, it is natural in the human race that the man should have not a short-lived but a lasting fellowship with a definite woman: this fellowship is called matrimony. Therefore, matrimony is natural to man, and the intercourse of fornication, which is apart from matrimony, is contrary to man’s good. For this reason it must be a sin.

Moreover, the emission of seed without the requisite intention of procreation and education must not be thought a slight sin because it is a small sin, or none at all, to use some part of one’s body for some other purpose than that for which nature intended it: for instance, if one walk on one’s hands, or use one’s feet to do what the hands should do. For by such actions man’s good is not prejudiced very much; but the inordinate discharge of semen is perversive of a natural good, which is the preservation of the species. Therefore, after the sin of murder, whereby human nature is deprived of actual existence, this kind of sin, whereby the generation of human nature is hindered, seems to hold the second place.

The foregoing conclusions are confirmed by divine authority. That the discharge of semen in such a way that no offspring can ensue is unlawful is clear from the words of Lev 18:22–23: You shall not lie with a male as with a woman, and: You shall not lie with any beast; and of 1 Cor 6:9–10: Neither the effeminate nor sodomites . . . shall possess the kingdom of God.

Again, that fornication (and all intercourse with other than one’s own wife) is unlawful is evident from the words of Deuternomy 23:17: There shall be no prostitute of the daughters of Israel; neither shall there be a whoremonger of the sons of Israel. And: Take heed to keep yourself from all fornication, and beside your wife never endure to know a crime (Tob 4:13). And: Fly fornication (1 Cor 6:18).

Hereby we exclude the error of those who denied that there was a greater sin in the emission of seed than in the discharge of other superfluities, and of those who said that fornication is no sin.

That matrimony should be indissoluble

If one consider the matter rightly, it will be seen that the foregoing arguments not only show that the fellowship of male and female in human nature, which we call matrimony, should be lasting, but also that it should endure throughout life.

For possessions are directed to the preservation of the natural life; and, since the natural life, which cannot be preserved in the person of an undying father, is preserved by a kind of succession in the person of the son, it is naturally befitting that the son succeed in things belonging to the father. Therefore, it is natural that the father’s care for his son should endure to the end of his life. If, then, the father’s care for his son causes, even among birds, the continued fellowship of male and female, the natural order demands that in the human species father and mother should remain together to the end of life.

It would seem also contrary to equity for the aforesaid fellowship to be dissolved. For the female requires the male not only for procreation, as in other animals, but also for governance, because the male excels both in intelligence and in strength. Now, the woman is taken into partnership with the man for the purpose of procreation. Consequently, when the woman ceases to be fruitful and fair, this is an obstacle against her being taken by another man. Hence, if a man, after taking a wife in her youth while she is yet fair and fruitful, can put her away when she has aged, he does her an injury, contrary to natural equity.

Again. It is clearly unfitting that the woman be allowed to put away the man, since she is naturally subject to the man’s authority, and one who is subject to another is not free to withdraw himself from his authority. Hence it would be contrary to the natural order if a wife could leave her husband. Consequently, if the husband could leave his wife, there would not be just fellowship between husband and wife, but a kind of slavery on the part of the latter.

Moreover. The greater the friendship, the more stable and lasting is it. Now, there seems to be the greatest friendship between husband and wife: for they are made one not only in the act of carnal intercourse, which even among dumb animals causes an agreeable fellowship, but also as partners in the whole intercourse of daily life. As a sign of this, man must leave father and mother for his wife’s sake (Gen 2:24). Therefore, it is right that matrimony should be altogether indissoluble.

It must also be observed that among natural acts generation alone is directed to the common good, since eating and the discharge of other superfluities regard the individual, but procreation regards the preservation of the species. Hence, as the law is made for the common good, whatever regards procreation should be regulated before other things by laws both divine and human. Now positive laws should be based on natural instinct, if they are human, even as all human discoveries must be founded on principles naturally known in demonstrative sciences. And if they be divine, not only do they express the instinct of nature, but they also supply the defect of natural instinct: even as the things that God reveals are beyond the grasp of natural reason. Since, then, the natural instinct of the human species is that the union of male and female be indissoluble, and that one man be united to one woman, this had to be ordered by human law. Moreover, the divine law adds a kind of supernatural reason taken from the representation of the indissoluble union of Christ and the Church, which is union of one with one. Therefore, inordinateness in the act of generation not only is contrary to the natural instinct, but it also transgresses laws both divine and human. Hence, this kind of disorder is more sinful than that which may occur in taking food, or in similar things.

And since in man all other things should be subordinate to what is best in him, the union of male and female is ordered by law not only in the point of its relation to the procreation of children, as in other animals, but also in its relation to good morals, which right reason regulates both as regards man in himself, and considered as a member either of a private family, or of the civil community. Now, the indissolubility of the union of male and female belongs to good morals. For their mutual love will be the more constant if they know that they are indissolubly united. They will also be more carefully provident in the conduct of the household when they realize that they are always to remain together in possession of the same things. Again, this precludes the origin of quarrels which must arise between the husband and his wife’s relatives, if he were to put his wife away: and those who are connected through affinity have a greater regard for one another. Moreover, it removes the occasions of adultery which would occur were the husband free to put away his wife, or vice versa: for this would encourage the seeking of further marriage.

Hence it is said: But I say to you that the wife should depart not from her husband (Matt 5:31; Matt 19:6; 1 Cor 7:10).¹

Hereby we condemn the custom of putting a wife away. Nevertheless, this was permitted to the Jews in the old law for their hardness of heart (Matt 19:8); namely, because they were prone to wife-murder. Hence the lesser evil was allowed, in order to avoid the greater.

That matrimony should be the union of one man with one woman

It is also to be observed, that it seems like all animals that are used to copulate have a natural instinct to resist another’s intercourse with their consort: hence animals fight on account of intercourse. And there is one common reason for this as regards all animals, because every animal desires to indulge at will in the pleasure of intercourse, even as in the pleasure of eating. This freedom ceases if many males have access to one female, or vice versa, just as an animal is deprived of the free enjoyment of its food if another animal usurps the food it desires to consume. Hence animals fight both for food and for intercourse. But with regard to men there is a special reason, because, as already stated,¹ man naturally desires to be assured of his offspring, and this assurance would be altogether nullified in the case of promiscuous intercourse. Therefore, the union of one man with one woman comes from a natural instinct.

A difference, however, is to be noted here. For as regards one woman not being united to several men, both the foregoing arguments avail. But as regards one man not being joined to several women, the second argument is of no use, since the certainty of having offspring is not removed if one man be joined to several women. The first argument, however, avails against this: for just as freedom of access to the woman is denied if she have another man, so too the same freedom is denied the woman if the man have several women. Hence, as certainty of having offspring is the chief good sought from marriage, no human law or custom has permitted polyandry. This was considered to be wrong even among the ancient Romans, of whom Maximus Valerius¹ relates that they deemed that not even on account of sterility should the marriage bond be severed.

Again. In every animal species where the father has a certain care for his offspring, the one male has but one female (as may be seen in birds, where both unite in feeding their young); for one male would not suffice to rear the progeny of several females. On the other hand, where the male animal has not the care of the offspring, we indifferently find the union of one male with several females, or of one female with several males: such is the case with dogs, hens, and so forth. Since, then, of all animals the male of the human species is preeminent in the care of his offspring, it is clearly natural to man that one man should have one wife, and vice versa.

Besides. Equality is a condition of friendship. Hence if a woman may not have several husbands (because this removes the certainty of offspring), if it were lawful for a man to have several wives, the friendship of a wife for her husband would not be freely bestowed but servile, as it were. And this argument is confirmed by experience, since where men have several wives, the wives are treated as servants.

Moreover. As we have already stated,¹ matrimony among men should be so ordered as to be consistent with good morals. Now it is contrary to good morals that one man have several wives, for this leads to discord in the family, as shown by experience. Therefore, it is not right for one man to have several wives.

Hence it is said: They shall be two in one flesh (Gen 2:24).

Hereby polygamy stands condemned, as also the opinion of Plato,¹ who said that wives should be possessed in common, which opinion was adopted by Nicolas (one of the seven deacons) in the New Law.²

That marriage should not be contracted between relatives

For these reasonable motives, the laws have decreed that certain persons belonging to a common stock should be debarred from marriage.

For, as marriage is the union of different persons, those who should consider themselves as one through having a common ancestor are rightly debarred from marriage, so that they may have a greater regard for each other by realizing that they are one through marriage.

Again. Since in the relations between husband and wife there is a certain natural shame, relations should be forbidden between those who through being united in blood should revere each other. This motive seems to be indicated in the law, where it is said: You shall not uncover the shame of your sister (Lev 18:9), and so on with others.

Moreover. The pleasure of intercourse corrupts entirely the judgment of prudence.¹ Therefore, frequency of that pleasure is contrary to good morals. Now, this pleasure is increased by the mutual love of those who are thus united. Hence it would be contrary to good morals for relatives to marry, for then there would be in them the love arising from community of blood and nourishment in addition to the love of desire. In consequence, the soul would be all the more a slave to pleasures through a multiplicity of loves.

Besides. It is most necessary in human society that friendship be among many. Now friendships among men are multiplied if marriage be contracted between persons of different stock. Therefore, it was becoming for the laws to direct that marriage be contracted with those of different stock, and not between relatives.

Also. It is unsuitable that a person be united socially with those to whom he should naturally be subject. Now, it is natural for a man to be subject to his parents. Therefore, it is unfitting for one to marry one’s parent, since marriage is a social union.

Hence it is said: None of you shall approach any one near of kin to him (Lev 18:6).

By this stands condemned the custom of those who contract bonds of the flesh with persons of their kindred.

We must observe, however, that just as the natural inclination is to what occurs most frequently, so too is the law made to fit the majority of cases. The foregoing arguments are not invalidated by any possible exceptions, for the good of many should not be foregone for the sake of the good of one, since the common good is ever more god-like than the good of one.¹ Lest, however, a defect that may occur in a single instance be altogether irremediable, lawgivers and the like have the power to dispense in the statutes that are made for the generality, according to the requirements of a particular case. If the law be made by man, those who have the same power can dispense therein. But if the law be of God, dispensation can be granted by divine authority, just as in the old law polygamy, concubinage, and divorce appear as allowed by dispensation.

That not all carnal intercourse is sinful

Just as it is contrary to reason to indulge in carnal intercourse so as to frustrate the begetting and rearing of children, so is it in keeping with reason to make use of it in a manner consistent with procreation and upbringing. Now, the divine law forbids only those things that are contrary to reason, as we have shown above.¹ Therefore, it is unreasonable to say that all carnal intercourse is sinful.

Again. Since the members of the body are instruments of the soul, the end of each member, as of any other instrument, is its use. Now, the use of certain members of the body is carnal intercourse. Therefore, carnal intercourse is the end of certain members of the body. But that which is the end of any natural thing cannot be evil in itself, since that which is according to nature is directed to an end by divine providence, as stated above.¹ Therefore, carnal intercourse cannot possibly be evil in itself.

Further. Natural inclinations are implanted in things by God, who moves all things. Therefore, the natural inclination of a species cannot be to that which is evil in itself. Now, in all perfect animals there is a natural inclination to carnal intercourse. Therefore, carnal intercourse cannot be evil in itself.

Moreover. That which is a necessary condition for something good—and very good—is not evil in itself. But the preservation of the animal species cannot be enduring except by means of generation by carnal intercourse. Therefore, carnal intercourse cannot be evil in itself.

Hence it is said: A woman sins not if she marries¹ (1 Cor 7:28).

Hereby we refute the error of those who say that all carnal intercourse is unlawful, and thus utterly condemn matrimony and nuptials. Some of them are led to this assertion because they believe that bodies were made not by a good but by an evil principle.¹

That no food is in itself sinful for one to take

Even as sex may be made use of without sin, so also may food, if the order of reason be observed. And a thing is done according to the order of reason when it is directed in a befitting manner to its due end. Now, the end due to the consumption of food is the preservation of the body by nourishment. Therefore, one may partake of any food that is adapted to this purpose. Therefore, no food is in itself sinful for one to take.

Again. It is not in itself sinful to use a thing that is not evil in itself. Now, no food is evil by nature, because everything is good in its nature, as we have proved above.¹ A certain food may, however, be bad for a certain person, as being harmful to the well-being of his body. Therefore, no food, considered as a thing of such and such a nature, is sinful for one to take: but it may be sinful if one use it unreasonably, so as to injure one’s health.

Moreover. To put a thing to the use for which it is intended is not, in itself, a sin. Now, plants are intended for animals; of animals, some are intended for others; and all things are intended for man, as we have already proved.¹ Therefore, it is not sinful in itself to make use of either plants or of the flesh of animals, whether for food or for any other purpose useful to man.

Besides. The defect of sin spreads from the soul to the body, and not vice versa, because sin is a disorder of the will. Now food concerns the body immediately, and not the soul. Therefore, the consumption of food cannot be sinful in itself, except insofar as it is contrary to rectitude of the will. This happens in one way through incompatibility with the end for which food is taken: for instance, when a man partakes of a food injurious to his health for the sake of the pleasure afforded thereby, whether on account of the kind of food or by reason of the quantity consumed. In another way, this may happen through the food being inconsistent with the condition either of the consumer or of those among whom he lives: for instance, if a man be so fastidious about his food as to go beyond his means, or singularize himself by not conforming to the manner of food customary to those around him. In a third way, this may happen if certain foods are forbidden by law for some special reason: thus, in the old law, certain foods were prohibited on account of their signification, and in Egypt it was forbidden of old to eat beef, lest agriculture should be hindered. Or again because certain regulations forbid the use of certain foods for the taming of the flesh.

Hence our Lord said: Not what goes into the mouth defiles a man (Matt 15:11). Again it is said: Eat whatever is sold in the meat market without raising any question on the ground of conscience (1 Cor 10:25). And again: Everything created by God is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving (1 Tim 4:4).

Hereby we refute the error of those who say the use of certain foods is illicit in itself, of whom St. Paul says: In later times some will depart from the faith . . . who forbid marriage and enjoin abstinence from foods which God created to be received with thanksgiving (1 Tim 4:1–3).

Since, then, the use of food and sex is not unlawful in itself, and can be unlawful only as leaving the order of reason, and since external possessions are necessary for the consumption of food, the rearing of children, support of the family, and other bodily needs, it follows that neither is the possession of wealth unlawful in itself, if the order of reason be observed. In such a way, namely, that man possess justly what he has; that he does not place the end of his will in it; and that he use it aright, for his own and others’ good. Hence the Apostle condemns not the rich, but lays down for them a definite rule for the use of riches, when he says: For the rich in this world, charge them not to be haughty, nor to set their hopes on uncertain riches . . . to do good, to be rich in good deeds, liberal and generous (1 Tim 6:17–18). Again, it is said: Blessed is the rich man who is found blameless, and who does not go after gold, nor hopes in money and treasures (Sir 31:8).

Hereby we also refute the error of those who, as Augustine states, most arrogantly styled themselves ‘apostolics,’ because they admitted to their community neither married men, nor possessors of property, such as are in the Catholic Church, as well as monks, and clerks in great number. The reason why these are heretics is because they sever themselves from the Church, and consider that those are without hope who use these things which they themselves lack.¹

How by the divine law man is directed to his neighbor

Accordingly, from what has been said,¹ it is clear that man is led by the divine law to observe the order of reason in all things that may be of use to him. Now, of all things that may be useful to man, other men hold the first place, since man is by nature a social animal,² for he needs many things that cannot be provided by one man alone. Therefore, man must be instructed by divine law so as to behave towards other men according to the order of reason.

Again. The end of the divine law is that man may adhere to God.¹ Now, in this, one man is assisted by another both in his knowledge and in his affections, because one man helps another to know the truth, and one urges another to good, and withdraws him from evil. Hence it is said: Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another (Prov 27:17); and: Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow; but woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up. Again, if two lie together, they are warm; but how can one be warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him (Eccl 4:9–12). Therefore, the divine law had to direct the mutual relations between man and man.

Moreover. The divine law is a rule of divine providence for the governance of men.¹ Now, it belongs to divine providence to keep all things subject to it within the bounds of right order, namely, so that each thing be in its place and degree. Accordingly, the divine law directs men to one another in such a way that each one remains in his own order. This is for men to be at peace with one another, for peace among men is nothing else but rightly ordered harmony, as Augustine says.²

Besides. Whenever a number of things are subordinate to one, they ought to be harmoniously ordered to one another, else they would hinder one another in following the common end: thus an army is harmoniously ordered to victory, which is the end of the commander-in-chief. Now, every man is ordered to God¹ by the divine law. Therefore, the divine law had to establish an ordered harmony, which is peace,² among men, lest they be a hindrance to one another.

Hence it is said in the Psalm: He makes peace in your borders (Ps 147:14[147:3]); and our Lord said: I have said this to you, that in me you may have peace (John 16:33).

Now ordered harmony is observed among men when to every one is given his due: and this belongs to justice.¹ Therefore it is said: And the effect of justice will be peace (Isa 32:17). Therefore,the divine law had to give precepts of justice that every one might give others their due, and refrain from doing them wrong.

Among men our greatest debt is to our parents. Therefore, the first of the legal precepts that order us to our neighbor (Exod 20:12–17) is: Honor your father and your mother, whereby we are to understand that each one is commanded to give their due both to his parents and to others, according to Romans 13:7: Pay all of them their dues. The next place is given to the precepts that forbid wrong-doing to one’s neighbor: to harm him by deed either in his own person, for it is said: You shall not kill; or in a person united to him, for it is said: You shall not commit adultery; or in external things, for it is said: You shall not steal. We are also forbidden to wrong our neighbor by word, for it is written: You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. And since God is judge also of hearts, we are forbidden to injure our neighbor in thought by coveting his wife or his goods.

Now man is moved in two ways to observe this justice that is prescribed by the divine law: first, from within; second, from without. From within, when man is willing to observe the precepts of the divine law. This is the result of man’s love of God and his neighbor: for anyone who loves another gives him his due willingly and with pleasure, and gives even more with liberality. Hence the entire fulfilment of the law depends on love, according to the word of the Apostle: Love is the fulfilling of the law (Rom 13:10). Again, our Lord says that on these two commandments, that is, on the love of God and our neighbor, depends all the law (Matt 22:40). But as some have not the inward disposition to do what the law commands willingly and of their own accord, they need to be drawn from without to fulfill the justice of the law. This is done when they fulfill the law through fear of punishment, not as freemen but as slaves. Hence it is said: For when thy judgments are in the earth, namely, by punishing evil-doers, the inhabitants of the world will learn justice (Isa 26:9).

The former, then, are a law to themselves,¹ for they have charity, which moves them instead of the law, and makes them act as free men. Therefore, it was necessary for the external law to be made not on their account, but on account of those who are not inclined to well-doing of their own accord. For this reason it is said: The law is not laid down for the just but for the unjust (1 Tim 1:9). But this does not mean that the just are not bound to fulfill the law, as some have wrongly understood; but that they are inclined of their own accord to do justice, even without the law.

That some human acts are right by nature, and not because they are prescribed by law

From what has been said it may be seen that the things prescribed by the divine law are right not only because they are prescribed by law, but also by their very nature.

For the divine law subjects the human mind to God, and all the rest of man, to reason.¹ Now, the natural order demands that the inferior be subject to the superior. Therefore, the precepts of the divine law are in themselves right by nature.

Besides. If a thing is natural to a man, that also must be natural to him without which he cannot have that thing: for nature is not wanting in necessaries.¹ Now, it is natural to man to be a social animal,² and this is proved by the fact that one man alone does not suffice to procure all the necessities of human life. Consequently, whatever is necessary for the maintenance of human society is naturally becoming to man: such are to observe the rights of others, and to refrain from doing them any harm. Therefore, in human acts some things are naturally right.

Also. It has been shown above¹ that it is natural for man to use things beneath him for the needs of his life. Now, there is a certain measure according to which the use of the aforesaid things is expedient for human life, and if that measure be ignored, a wrong is done to man, as in the inordinate consumption of food. Therefore, certain human acts are naturally right, and some naturally wrong.

Again. According to the natural order, the body is on account of the soul, and the lower powers of the soul are on account of the reason: even as in other things, matter is for the form, and instruments for the sake of the principal agent. Now, if a thing be ordered to another, it should be a help to it and not a hindrance. Therefore, it is naturally right that man should so care for his body and the lower powers of the soul so that they are not a hindrance but a help to the act of reason and to his own good; if it happen otherwise, it will be evil by nature. Therefore, wine-bibbing and revelling, inordinate use of sex which hinders the use of reason, and submission to the passions, which thwart the free judgment of reason, are all evil by nature.

It is therefore clear that good and evil in human acts result not only from the prescription of the law, but also from the order of nature.

Hence it is said in the Psalm that the ordinances of the Lord are true, and just in themselves (Ps 18:10).

Hereby we refute the statement of those who assert that the just and the right are prescribed by law only.

The counsels

Since man’s greatest good is that he adhere with his mind to God and divine things, but it is impossible for him to give undivided attention to diverse things, in order that his mind may more freely turn to God the divine law gives counsels, by which men are withdrawn from the occupations of the present life as far as this is possible to one whose life is on the earth. Now, this is not so necessary for man’s righteousness that without it righteousness were impossible, since virtue and righteousness are not destroyed if man make use of things corporal and earthly according to the order of reason. And these admonitions of the divine law are called counsels, and not precepts, inasmuch as man is counselled to forego the lesser goods for the sake of the greater.

Now man’s cares, as regards the general mode of human life, are occupied with three things: first, about his person, as to what he shall do or where he is to live; second, about persons united to him, especially his wife and children; third, about providing himself with those external things which he needs for the support of life. In order to do away with his care for external things, the divine law gives the counsel of poverty, namely, that he should renounce the goods of this world, which are apt to entangle his mind with anxieties. Hence our Lord said: If you would be perfect, go, sell all¹ you possess and give to the poor . . . and come, follow me (Matt 19:21). In order to remove the care of wife and children, man is given the counsel of virginity or continence. Hence it is said: Now concerning virgins, I have no commandment of the Lord, but I give counsel (1 Cor 7:25). And in order to give the reason for this counsel he adds: The unmarried man is anxious about the affairs of the Lord, how to please the Lord; but the married man is anxious about worldly affairs, how to please his wife, and he is divided (1 Cor 7:32). In order to remove man’s care of himself, the counsel of obedience is given, whereby he surrenders the disposal of his own acts into the hands of his superior. Therefore, it is said: Obey your leaders and submit to them; for they are keeping watch over your souls, as men who will have to give account (Heb 13:17).

And whereas the highest perfection of human life is that man’s mind be occupied with God, and as these three are apparently the best dispositions to that occupation, it would seem that they rightly belong to the state of perfection; not as though they were themselves perfections, but because they are dispositions to perfection which consists in being busy about God. This is clearly indicated by the words of our Lord in counselling poverty, when he said: If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor . . . and come, follow me (Matt 19:21), as though he declared the perfection of life to consist in following him.

They may also be described as the effects and signs of perfection. For when the mind is strongly affected with love and desire of a certain thing, the result is that it thinks less of other things. Therefore, if man’s mind be borne with love and desire towards divine things, in which perfection clearly consists, the result is that he renounces all that may hinder his movement towards God—not only the care of possessions, and love of wife and children, but also love of himself. This is signified by the words of Scripture. For it is said: If a man offered for love all the wealth of his house, he will reckon it as nothing (Song 8:7); and: Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it (Matt 13:45–46); and: Whatever gain I had, I counted as dung for the sake of Christ (Phil 3:7–8).¹

Since, then, these three are dispositions to perfection, and the effects and signs of perfection, it is fitting that those who vow these three things should be said to be in the state of perfection.

Now, the perfection to which the things in question dispose a man consists in the mind being occupied with God. Therefore, those who make profession of them are called religious, as dedicating themselves and their possessions as a sacrifice to God: their possessions, by poverty; their body, by continence; their will, by obedience. For religion consists in the worship of God, as stated above.¹

Some, in contradiction of the Gospel teaching, have condemned intentional poverty. The first of these was Vigilantius, who was followed by others, pretending¹ to be teachers of the law, without understanding either what they are saying or the things about which they make assertions.² They based their contention on the following and similar arguments.

The natural appetite demands that every animal should provide itself with the necessities of life. Hence those animals which are unable to find the necessities of life at all times of the year gather such things together by natural instinct at the time they are to be found, and store them: for instance, bees and ants. Now, men need many things for the support of life which cannot be found at all times. Hence it is natural to man to procure and keep the things he needs. Therefore, it is contrary to the natural law to scatter by poverty all the things one has gathered.

Again. Everything has a natural liking for those things by which its being is preserved, inasmuch as all things seek to exist.¹ Now man’s life is supported with the substance of external things. Therefore, by the natural law every man is bound to maintain the substance of external things even as life itself. Hence, it is as much against the natural law for a man to deprive himself of the necessities of life by voluntary poverty as it is to lay hands on himself.

Moreover. Man is by nature a social animal,¹ as stated above.² Now, society cannot endure among men unless one help another. Consequently, it is natural to men for one to help another in his need. But they make it impossible for themselves to afford this help, if they renounce the substance of external things, by which especially assistance is given to others. Therefore, it is contrary to the natural instinct, and to the good of pity and charity that a man, by voluntary poverty, renounce all worldly substance.

Besides. If it be an evil to possess the substance of this world, and if it be good to free one’s neighbor of an evil, and evil to bring evil upon him, then it follows that it is evil to give of the substance of this world to one who is in want, and good to take it away from one who has it. This is absurd. Therefore, it is good to possess the substance of this world; to renounce it altogether by voluntary poverty is evil.

Further. Since virtue follows the mean, it is destroyed by either extreme. Now, liberality is a virtue which gives what should be given, and holds to what should be retained. And illiberality is a vice on the side of deficiency, holding to what should be retained, and to what should not be retained. It is also a vice on the side of excess when all is given: this is done by those who embrace voluntary poverty. Therefore, it is sinful and allied to prodigality.

These arguments would seem to be confirmed by the authority of Scripture. For it is said: Remove far from me falsehood and lying; give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with the food that is needful for me, lest I be full, and deny thee, and say, “Who is the Lord?” or lest I be poor, and steal, and profane the name of my God (Prov 30:8–9).

This question would seem to be yet more relevant if one consider the ways in which those must live who embrace voluntary poverty.

One way of living is for the goods of each one to be sold, and for all to live together on the proceeds. This seems to have been done in Jerusalem under the apostles: for it is said: As many as were possessors of lands or houses sold them, and brought the proceeds of what was sold and laid it at the apostles’ feet; and distribution was made to each as any had need (Acts 4:34–35). Now, in this way it would seem that sufficient provision was not made for man’s livelihood.

First, because it is not probable that many with great possessions would embrace this kind of life. And the proceeds from the sale of the possessions of a few wealthy men, after being divided among many, would not last very long.

Also, because it is possible and easy for the price received to be lost through fraud on the part of the dispensers, or through theft or robbery. Consequently, those who embrace this kind of poverty will be left without a livelihood.

Besides. Many things happen which compel a man to change his abode. Hence it will be difficult to provide for those who may possibly be scattered about in various places, if the proceeds of the sale be assigned to them all in common.

There is another mode of life observed in many monasteries, where the possessions are held in common, and provision made for each one according to his needs. But neither does this way of life seem to be expedient.

For earthly possessions are attended by anxieties both in the acquisition of revenue, and in protecting them against fraud and violence. These anxieties are so much the greater and involve so many more persons according as greater possessions are needed to suffice for the upkeep of the greater number. In this way, therefore, the motive of voluntary poverty is frustrated, at any rate as regards many who must be solicitous in looking after the property.

Again. Possession in common tends to occasion discord. For it seems that people who have nothing in common, like the Spaniards and Persians, are not given to litigation, but those who hold something together in common. For this reason there are quarrels among brothers. Now, discords are a very great hindrance to the mind being occupied with divine things, as stated above.¹ Therefore, this way of living would seem to frustrate the end of voluntary poverty.

There is again a third way of life, where those who embrace voluntary poverty live by manual labor. The apostle Paul followed this manner of living and by his example and institution counselled others to observe it. For it is said: We did not eat any one’s bread without paying, but with toil and labor we worked night and day, that we might not burden any of you. It was not because we have not that right, but to give you in our conduct an example to imitate. For even when we were with you, we gave you this command: If any one will not work, let him not eat (2 Thess 3:8–10). Yet neither does this manner of life seem expedient.

For manual labor is necessary as a means of livelihood insofar as something is acquired thereby. Now it seems futile to renounce what is necessary and then work to get it back. Consequently, if after embracing voluntary poverty a man has to regain the means of livelihood by working with his hands, it were useless for him to renounce all that he had with which to support his life.

Also. Voluntary poverty is counselled so that by it a man may be disposed to follow Christ with greater promptitude by being free from worldly cares. Now, it would seem to involve greater solicitude that a man should gain a livelihood by his own toil than that he should live on what he already had: especially if he were moderately rich, or were possessed of movable goods, with which it were easy for him to gain the necessaries of life. Therefore, to live by manual labor would seem inconsistent with the purpose of those who embrace voluntary poverty.

To this we must add that our Lord apparently forbade his disciples manual labor when, using the comparison of the birds and the lilies of the field, he warned them against solicitude for earthly things. For he said: Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns (Matt 6:26). And again: Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin (Matt 6:28).

Also, this manner of life seems inadequate. For many desire perfection who have neither the ability nor the skill so as to be able to spend their life in toil, because they have neither been brought up nor taught to do such things. For thus peasants and laborers would be in a better position for the attainment of the perfection of life, than those who have studied wisdom, and have been brought up in wealth and ease, which they renounce for Christ’s sake. It also happens that some who embrace voluntary poverty lose their health, or are hindered in some other way from working. Consequently, they would be left deprived of the means of livelihood.

Again. No little time suffices that one may work for the necessities of life—as evidenced in the number of men who pass the whole of their time so doing, and yet are scarcely able to gain an adequate livelihood. But if those who embrace voluntary poverty have to live by manual labor, the result would be that they would spend the greater part of their life in this kind of work. Consequently, they would be debarred from actions of greater importance which also require much time, such as the study of wisdom, teaching and other like spiritual occupations. And so voluntary poverty would be a hindrance rather than a disposition to the perfection of life.

If someone say that manual labor is necessary in order to banish idleness, this is not to the point. For it were better to banish idleness by being busy in the exercise of moral virtues, which riches serve instrumentally¹ (for instance, in giving alms and the like), rather than by manual labor. Besides, it were useless to counsel poverty merely so that men, after becoming poor, might abstain from idleness by occupying their time in manual labor, unless the counsel were given that they might give themselves to higher occupations than those belonging to man’s ordinary life.

And if someone say that manual labor is necessary to tame the desires of the flesh, this is not to the point. For the question at issue is whether it be necessary for those who embrace voluntary poverty to live by manual labor. Besides, there are many other ways of taming carnal concupiscence, namely, by fasting, watching, and the like. Moreover, even the rich, who need not work in order to live, might use manual labor for that purpose.

There is yet another way of life, where those who embrace voluntary poverty live by the ministrations of others, who wish to be of service to the perfection of voluntary poverty by retaining their riches. This way seems to have been followed by our Lord and his disciples: for we read that certain women followed Christ, and provided for him out of their means (Luke 8:2–3). But neither does this way of life seem to be expedient.

For it seems unreasonable to renounce one’s own goods in order to live on another’s.

Further. This mode of living would seem to be harmful to others. For some there are who need to be supported by the bounty of others, through being unable to support themselves by reason of poverty or sickness. And this bounty would be lessened if those who embrace voluntary poverty had to be supported by the offerings of others, since people are both unable and unwilling to support a large number of poor. Hence the Apostle commands that if a man have a widow related to him, let him minister to her, that the Church may look after those who are widows indeed¹ (1 Tim 5:16). It is therefore unseemly that those who choose voluntary poverty should follow this way of living.

Moreover. A free mind is a most necessary condition for perfect virtue, for without it a man easily becomes a partaker of other men’s sins: either by express consent, or by flattering approval, or at least by dissimulation. Now, this freedom is considerably prejudiced by the aforesaid manner of life, for a man cannot but fear to offend one on whose kindness he lives. Consequently, this manner of life is a hindrance to perfect virtue, which is the end of voluntary poverty: and so it would seem inexpedient to those who are voluntarily poor.

Besides. We cannot be sure of that which depends on another’s will. Now, the giving of his own depends on the will of the giver. Therefore, this way of living does not provide sufficiently for the voluntarily poor as regards their being sure of a livelihood.

Besides. Voluntary poverty is counselled so that a man’s mind, being withdrawn from earthly cares, may be more at liberty to give itself to God. But this way of living by begging is full of cares, for it seems that more care is attached to getting others’ goods than to using one’s own. Therefore, this way of living would seem unbecoming to those who make profession of voluntary poverty.

If, however, someone be desirous of praising beggary on account of humility, his contention would seem altogether unreasonable. For we praise lowliness according as we despise worldly eminence, which consists in riches, honors, renown, and the like; but we do not do so through contempt of the eminence of virtue, in respect of which we should be magnanimous. Therefore, humility would be blameworthy if for the sake of humility one were to do something derogatory to the eminence of humility. Now, begging is derogatory to it in this way, both because it is better to give than to receive,¹ and because it has the appearance of wrong. Therefore, beggary is not to be praised on account of humility.

There were some, too, who said to those who profess perfection of life that they should have no solicitude, neither by begging, nor by toiling, nor by keeping something back for themselves, and that they should look to God alone for their livelihood, because it is said: Do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat (or what you shall drink),¹ nor about your body, what you shall put on (Matt 6:25); and again: Do not be anxious about tomorrow (Matt 6:34). But this seems utterly unreasonable.

For it is foolish to desire the end, and omit the means. Now, eating is the end to which is directed man’s solicitude, whereby he procures his food. Hence those who cannot live without eating must be solicitous about getting their food.

Moreover, this leads to a strange absurdity. For a man might with equal reason say that he would not walk, or open his mouth to eat, or avoid a falling stone or the thrust of a sword, but that he would wait for God to act. This is to tempt God. Therefore, solicitude about one’s food is not to be avoided altogether.

How poverty is good

In order to elucidate the truth about what we have been saying, we must form our judgment of poverty, by considering riches. External riches are necessary for the good of virtue, since by them we support the body, and help others. Now, things directed to an end must take their goodness from that end. Consequently, external riches must be a good of man—not his chief, but his secondary good, as it were, because the end is a good principally, and other things are according as they are directed to the end. For this reason, some have thought that virtues are man’s greatest good, and external riches, goods of least account. Now, things directed to an end must take their measure from the exigency of the end. Therefore, riches are good insofar as they serve the use of virtue; if this measure be exceeded, so that they hinder the practice of virtue, they are no longer to be reckoned as a good but as an evil. Hence it happens that the possession of riches is good for some who use them for virtue, while to others it is an evil because they are withdrawn thereby from virtue through being either too anxious about them, or too much attached to them, or self-conceited about them.

But since there are virtues of the active and of the contemplative life, both need external riches in different ways. For the contemplative virtues need them only for the support of nature, while the active virtues need them both for that purpose and to support others who share the same life. Hence the contemplative life is the more perfect in that it has fewer needs. To this life indeed it would seem to belong that man occupy himself wholly with divine things, and Christ’s teaching counsels this perfection to man. Consequently, those who seek this perfection are content with a minimum of external riches, namely, as much as suffices to support nature. Hence the Apostle says: If we have food and clothing, with these we shall be content (1 Tim 6:8).

Accordingly, poverty is commendable so far as it frees man from those vices in which some are enmeshed through wealth. Insofar as it removes the anxiety that is occasioned by riches, it is useful to some, namely, those who are disposed to occupy themselves with the better things; but it is harmful to some who, being freed from this anxiety, betake themselves to worse occupations. Hence Gregory says: It often happens that people who are busy in doing well while living as men are used to live are slain by the sword of retirement.¹ Insofar as poverty removes the good resulting from riches—namely, the assistance of others, and one’s own support—it is simply an evil, except insofar as the assistance whereby one’s neighbor is relieved in temporal things may be compensated by a greater good, in that a man can more freely give himself to the affairs of God and his soul through lacking wealth. But the good of one’s own support is so far necessary that it cannot be compensated by any other, for man should not deprive himself of his livelihood for the sake of obtaining any other good.

Such poverty is therefore commendable when a man, being freed thereby from worldly solicitude, is enabled more freely to occupy himself with divine and spiritual things; yet so as to retain the possibility of lawfully supporting himself, for which purpose not many things are needful. And according as the manner of living in a state of poverty demands less solicitude, so much the more is poverty to be commended, but not according as the poverty is greater. For poverty is not good in itself, but insofar as it frees a man from that which hinders him from being intent on spiritual things. Hence its measure of goodness depends on how far it frees man from the aforesaid obstacles. In fact, this applies to all external things in common: they are so far good as they are serviceable to virtue, but not in themselves.

Solution of the arguments given above against poverty

Keeping these observations before our mind, we shall easily solve the foregoing arguments whereby poverty was impugned.

For though man has a natural desire to gather together the necessaries of life, as the first argument stated, this does not imply that each individual must be occupied in so doing. In fact, neither is every bee occupied in the same duty, but some gather honey, some build their dwelling with wax, while the queens do none of these things. It must be so also with man. For, since many things are needed for man’s livelihood, for which one man is not sufficient by himself, it is necessary for different things to be done by different men: for instance, that some cultivate the land, that some have charge of animals, that some build houses, and so forth. And since man’s life demands not only goods of the body, but also, and still more, goods of the soul, it is necessary for some to be busy about spiritual things for the betterment of others. Such must be exempt from the care of temporal things. This division of diverse duties among diverse persons is made by divine providence, according as some are more inclined to one duty than to others.

It is thus clear that those who renounce temporal goods do not deprive themselves of a livelihood, as the second argument contended. For they still have the probable hope of maintenance either from their own work or from the kindness of others, whether they receive it as common property or as their daily bread. For even as that which is possible by means of our friends, is possible to ourselves in a sense, as the Philosopher says,¹ so what our friends have is ours, in a sense.

Now among men there should be that mutual friendship whereby they assist one another either in spiritual or in earthly duties. Again, it is better to help another in spirituals than in temporals, insofar as spirituals are more excellent than temporals, and more necessary for attaining the end of beatitude. Hence the man who by voluntary poverty deprives himself of the possibility of helping others in temporal things so that he may obtain spiritual things whereby he can be of more useful service to others, does not, as the third argument concluded, counteract the good of human society.

From the foregoing it is clear that riches are a good of man insofar as they are directed to the rational good, but not in themselves. Therefore, nothing prevents poverty from being better if by it a man is directed to a more perfect good. Thus the fourth argument is answered.

And since neither wealth nor poverty, nor anything external is in itself man’s good, but only insofar as it is directed to reason’s good, nothing prevents them from being a source of sin when they are not employed by man according to reason’s rule. And yet they are not therefore to be reckoned as simply evil, but only when they are put to an evil use. Hence neither is poverty to be condemned on account of certain vices that are sometimes occasioned thereby, as the fifth argument endeavored to prove.

Therefore, we must also observe that the mean of virtue does not depend on the quantity of external goods employed, but on the rule of reason. Thus it happens sometimes that what is an extreme in point of quantity of an external thing is the mean according to reason’s rule. For neither does anyone tend to greater things than the magnanimous man, nor surpass in amount the magnificent man’s expenditure. Therefore, they follow the mean not by the quantity of expenditure, or the like, but by not exceeding or falling short of the rule of reason. This rule, in fact, measures not only the quantity of the thing used, but also the condition of the person, and his intention, the fitness of place and time, and such things that are required in acts of virtue. Consequently, a man does not frustrate virtue through voluntary poverty, even if he renounces all things. Nor is he prodigal in so doing, since he does it for a due end, and observing other due circumstances. For it is more to expose oneself to death—which nevertheless a man does through the virtue of fortitude, observing the due circumstances—than to renounce all one’s goods for a due end. Thus the sixth argument is answered.

The words quoted from Solomon are not in contradiction with this. For it is clear that he speaks of compulsory poverty, which is wont to be the occasion of theft.

Solution of the objections urged against the various ways of life followed by those who embrace voluntary poverty

We must, in sequel to the foregoing, consider the ways in which those who embrace voluntary poverty have to live.¹

The first way—namely, that all live in common on the proceeds of the sale of their possessions—suffices indeed, but not for a long time. And so the apostles instituted this way of living for the faithful in Jerusalem, because through the Holy Spirit they foresaw that they were not to remain long together in Jerusalem, both on account of the coming persecutions by the Jews, and on account of the imminent destruction of both city and nation. Hence there was no need to provide for the faithful except for a short time. For this reason, when they moved on to the gentiles, among whom the Church was to be firmly established and endure, we do not read of their instituting this way of life.

Nevertheless, the fact that the dispensers may be guilty of fraud is no argument against this way of living. For this is common to all ways of life in which people live together: yet in this particular way so much the less, since it seems less likely to happen that those who seek the perfection of life should be guilty of fraud. Besides, a remedy may be provided against this by choosing faithful dispensers. Hence, under the apostles, Stephen and others were chosen, who were reckoned to be worthy of this office.

The second way of living is also suitable to those who embrace voluntary poverty, namely, that in which they live on their common property.

There is nothing in this way of living derogatory to the perfection to which the voluntarily poor tend. For it is possible for one or a few to have the care of looking after the property, so that the others, being free of care for temporal things, may freely occupy themselves with spiritual things, which is the revenue accruing from voluntary poverty. Nor do those who take upon themselves this responsibility for the others’ sake forfeit anything from the perfection of life, since what they seem to lose through being disturbed is made up to them in their obedience to the call of charity, in which also the perfection of life consists.

Nor does this way of living destroy harmony on account of property being held in common. For those who embrace voluntary poverty ought to hold temporal things in contempt, so that they could not possibly be at variance for the sake of earthly goods; especially as they should not expect from temporalities anything besides the necessaries of life, and since the dispensers should be faithful. Nor is the fact that some abuse this way of life a sufficient reason for condemning it, since evil men make evil use even of good things, just as good men make good use of evil things.

The third manner of living is also suitable to those who take poverty upon themselves voluntarily, namely, that in which they live by manual labor.

For it is not useless to renounce temporal possessions in order to regain them by manual labor, as the first objection contended. For the possession of wealth both required man to be solicitous in administering it (or at least in keeping it), and attracted his affections: which is no longer the case when he is occupied in getting his daily bread by manual labor.

Now, it is clear that little time suffices, and no great solicitude is needed, in order that a man get a sufficient livelihood by manual labor. But to get rich or provide oneself with more than a sufficient livelihood, which is the aim of the worldly worker, requires one to spend much time and to exercise great care. Hence the reply to the second argument is clear.

We must observe that in the Gospel our Lord did not forbid labor, but mental anxiety about the necessaries of life. For he did not say: Do not work, but: Be not solicitous (Matt 6:31). He proves his statement with an a fortiori argument. For if divine providence maintains birds and lilies, which are of a lower condition, and cannot toil as men do in order to gain this sustenance, much more will it provide for man, who is of higher condition, and to whom it has given the means of getting his bread by his own labor; so that he need not be anxiously solicitous about the necessaries of this life. It is clear, then, that this mode of life is not condemned by our Lord’s words quoted in the objection.

Again, this mode of life cannot be condemned on the plea that it is insufficient. For it seldom happens that a man is unable to get a sufficiency for his livelihood by manual labor on account of sickness, or for some like reason. And an ordinance is not to be censured on account of its failing to apply in a few instances, for this happens in ordinances both of nature and of the will. Nor is there any mode of living that provides for man without a possibility of failing; riches may be taken away by theft or robbery, just as the man that lives by manual labor may become incapable of work. And yet there is still a remedy as regards the aforesaid manner of living, namely, that a man who cannot get enough for himself by his labor should be assisted either by others of the same association, who are able to work more than enough for themselves; or again by those who have means, according to the law of charity and natural friendship, whereby one assists another in his need. Thus the Apostle, after saying: If any one will not work, let him not eat (2 Thess 3:10), on account of those who are unable to get enough for themselves by their own work, adds this admonition to others: But you, do not be weary in well-doing (2 Thess 3:13).

Moreover, as few things are necessary for a sufficient livelihood, those who are content with little need not take much time in getting enough by manual labor. Hence they are not hindered much from doing other spiritual works, for the sake of which they embraced voluntary poverty. This is all the more true since, while working with their hands, they can think of God and praise him, and do other like things, which in private life men are bound to do. Yet, lest they be altogether hindered from attending to spiritual things, they may be assisted by the kindness of other members of the faithful.

Now, though voluntary poverty is not embraced in order by manual labor to banish idleness or chastise the flesh, since even those who have riches can do this, yet there is no doubt that manual labor avails for the things mentioned, even without being done to gain a livelihood. Idleness, however, may be removed by other more useful occupations, and the concupiscence of the flesh may be tamed by means of more effective remedies. Hence those who have a lawful means of livelihood, or are able to get it, are not bound for the above motives to undertake manual labor. For only the need of a livelihood binds a man to work with his hands. Hence the Apostle says: If any one will not work, let him not eat (2 Thess 3:10).

Again, the fourth way of living on the offerings of others is suitable to those who embrace voluntary poverty.

For it is not unfitting that he who has renounced his own for the sake of something profitable to others should be maintained by what others give. For were this not so, human society could not last, since if a man had no care save for his own, no one would be of service to the community. Hence it is expedient for human society that those who are of service to the community by renouncing the care of property should be maintained by those to whom they are of service; seeing that for this reason soldiers live on the contributions of others, and the rulers of the state are paid from the common exchequer. Now, those who embrace voluntary poverty in order to follow Christ renounce all things precisely that they may be useful to the community, since by their wisdom, learning and example they enlighten the people, and sustain them by their prayers and intercession.

From which it is also clear that it is no disgrace for them to live on what others give, since they pay them back in better kind by receiving temporal things for their maintenance and profiting others in spiritual things. Hence the Apostle says: Your abundance, namely in temporal goods, should supply their want of the same, so that their abundance, that is, in spiritual goods, may supply your want (2 Cor 8:14). For he who helps another shares in his deeds, both in good and in evil.

And when they encourage others to virtue by their example, the result is that those who profit by their example become less attached to riches through seeing that others renounce riches altogether for the sake of the perfection of life. Now, the less a man loves wealth, and the more he is inclined to virtue, so much the more readily does he give of his own wealth for the support of others. Hence those who embrace voluntary poverty, and live on what others give, become more useful to other poor people, encouraging others to works of mercy by word and example, than they are destructive through receiving the gifts of others for their maintenance.

It is also evident that men of perfect virtue, such as they ought to be who profess voluntary poverty through contempt of riches, do not forfeit their liberty just because they receive a few things from others for their maintenance; since man does not cease to be free except on account of things which dominate his affections. Hence he does not lose his liberty on account of the things he despises, if they be given to him.

And though the maintenance of those who live on what others give them depends on the goodwill of those who give, it is not for that reason insufficient for the support of Christ’s poor. For it depends on the goodwill, not of one, but of many. And it is not probable that in the multitude of the faithful there be not many who are ready to supply the needs of those whom they revere for the perfection of their virtue.

Nor is it unfitting that they even make known their needs and beg, whether for others or for themselves. Thus we read that even the apostles did this. They accepted not only for themselves the necessaries of life from those to whom they preached—which was an act of authority rather than of begging, since the Lord commanded that they who serve the Gospel should live by the Gospel¹—but also for the poor in Jerusalem, who renounced their own property, and lived in poverty, but did not preach to the gentiles. Yet their spiritual administration could profit those by whom they were maintained. Hence the Apostle counsels that such people be maintained by alms given not of necessity,² but freely, which counsel is nothing else than begging. This beggary does not render men contemptible if it be done moderately, for the sake of need, not of excess, and without importunity, considerating both the condition of the person besought and of place and time: all of which must be observed by those who seek perfection of life.

It is, consequently, clear that there is no appearance of wrong-doing in begging thus, although there would be if it were done with importunity and indiscreetly for the sake of self-indulgence or greed.

Now, it is evident that begging implies a certain abasement. For as to be passive is inferior to being active, so too is receiving inferior to giving, and subjection and obedience to governing and commanding (although there may be a recompense in the shape of a concomitant circumstance).

Now, to make a deliberate choice of that which implies abasement is an act of humility; not indeed simply, but according as there is need for it. Since humility is a virtue, it does nothing indiscreetly; thus it is a sign not of humility, but of folly, if a man adopts every kind of abasement. On the other hand, if a man does not shrink on account of abasement from doing what virtue requires of him—for instance, if charity requires him to perform a humiliating service for his neighbor—through humility he will not shrink from doing it. Accordingly, if it be necessary to beg in order to embrace the life of poverty, it is an act of humility to suffer this abasement. Again, it is an act of virtue sometimes to take upon ourselves things that are degrading, although our duty does not bind us to do so, that by our example we may encourage others who are so bound so they may more easily suffer them. Thus the officer sometimes does the work of a common soldier so as to encourage others. Sometimes too the virtuous use of humiliation serves as a remedy. For instance, if a man’s mind be inclined to immoderate self-conceit, it is good for him to have recourse (with due moderation) to acts of self-abasement, either of his own choice, or as enjoined by others, in order to repress the elation of his soul, since by so doing he brings himself to the level of the lowest of men, whose duties are of the baser kind.

Those who hold that our Lord forbade all solicitude in seeking one’s bread are guilty of an utterly unreasonable error, for every act requires solicitude. Hence, if man should have no solicitude about the things of the body, it follows that he must perform no bodily action—which is both impossible and unreasonable. For God has appointed to each thing an action in proportion to its nature. Now, man is formed of a nature both spiritual and corporal. Therefore, according to the divine ordinance, it is necessary that man both perform actions of the body, and attend to the things of the soul, and he is the more perfect as he attends more to spiritual things. Yet man’s perfection does not depend on his performing no actions of the body, because, since the actions of the body are directed to what is needful for the maintenance of life, if a man omits them he neglects his life, which everyone is bound to maintain. Now a man is a fool and tempts God if he does nothing himself and looks to God to provide him with those things to which he can help himself by his own action. For it belongs to the divine goodness to provide for everything not by doing all things immediately, but by moving each other thing to its proper action, as we have proved above.¹ Therefore, man must not expect that God will provide for him without his doing any action whereby he is able to provide for himself, for this is contrary to the divine ordinance and goodness.

But because it is not through us that our actions attain to their due end, on account of the obstacles that may occur, although it is in our power to act, the outcome of everyone’s action is subject to the divine disposition. Accordingly, our Lord commanded us not to be solicitous about what concerns God—namely, the outcome of our actions—but he did not forbid us to be solicitous about what concerns us—namely, our actions. Therefore, a man does not disobey our Lord’s command if he be solicitous about what he has to do himself, but he does if he is solicitous about the possible result so that he omits to do what he ought in order to avoid such results, even if he does what pertains to him. Against this we should hope in the providence of God, who gives sustenance even to birds and plants. For to be solicitous in this way seems to savor of the error of the heathens, who deny divine providence. Hence our Lord concludes: Do not be solicitous for tomorrow (Matt 6:34). By these words he does not forbid us to keep till tomorrow what is necessary in its proper time, but to be solicitous about future happenings, despairing of the divine assistance, as it were: or to anticipate today the solicitude that we should reserve for tomorrow, since each day has its own cares; hence it is added: The day’s own trouble is sufficient for the day.

It is clear, then, that those who embrace voluntary poverty may live in various suitable ways. And among these ways, one is more commendable than the others according as it exempts man’s mind more from the solicitude of earthly things, and from being occupied with them.

Men of distorted judgment have spoken against the good of continency, even as they have impugned the perfection of poverty. Some of these endeavor to proscribe perpetual continency by the following and like arguments.

The union of man and woman is directed to the good of the species. Now, the good of the species is more godlike than the good of the individual.¹ Therefore, it is a greater sin to abstain from an act whereby the species is preserved than to abstain from an act whereby the individual is maintained, such as eating, drinking, and the like.

Again. By divine ordinance, man has received members apt for generation, as also the faculty of desire that incites to it, and other like things directed to the same end. Therefore, one who refrains altogether from the act of generation would seem to counteract the divine ordinance.

Also. If it be good for one to be continent, it is better for many, and best that all be continent. But this would result in the extinction of the human race. Therefore, it is not good for one man to be continent.

Besides. Chastity, like the other virtues, takes a middle course. Consequently, as a man acts contrary to virtue and is intemperate if he yield altogether to his desires, he likewise acts against virtue if he refrain from his desires altogether, and falls into the vice of insensibility.

These arguments then would seem to militate against perpetual continence. And to them may be added the command of the Lord which, we read, was given to our first parents: Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth (Gen 1:28; 9:1). This was never revoked: in fact, rather was it confirmed by our Lord in the Gospel where it is said in reference to the marriage bond: What God has joined together, let not man put asunder (Matt 19:6). Now those who observe perpetual continence disobey this precept. Therefore, it would seem unlawful to keep perpetual continence.

However, bearing in mind what we have said above,¹ we shall easily reply to these objections.

For we must observe that in matters regarding the needs of the individual we must not reason in the same way as in matters which regard the needs of the community. For when it is a question of the needs of the individual, each one must be provided for. Such things are meat and drink, and other things that concern the maintenance of the individual: therefore, everyone needs to take meat and drink. But when it is a question of what is necessary to the community, it is not necessary, nor indeed is it possible, that such things should be the concern of each member of the community. For it is plain that many things are needful to the human community—such as meat, drink, clothing, dwelling and the like—which cannot be provided by one man. Hence the necessity of various men having various duties, even as in the body various members are appointed for various acts. Since, then, procreation is connected with the needs not of the individual, but of the entire species, it is not necessary that all men be employed in procreating; but some, refraining from it, are appointed to fulfill other duties, such as military service or contemplation.

Hence the reply to the second objection is clear. For divine providence has bestowed on man all things necessary for the whole species: and yet it is not necessary that each man use each one of those things. Thus man has been given the art of building, the strength to fight, yet there is no need for every man to be a builder or a soldier. In like manner, though man has received from God the power and means of procreation, there is no need for every man to attend to the act of procreating.

Hence the reply to the third argument is also clear. For, though for each individual it is better to abstain from what is needful for the community, and to occupy himself with better things, it is not good that all so abstain. The same applies to the order of the universe, since although a spiritual substance is better than a body, yet it would be not a better but a less perfect universe where there were none but spiritual substances. And though the eye is better than the foot in the animal’s body, the animal would not be perfect unless it had both eye and foot. So too neither would the human community be in a perfect state unless there be some who attend to the act of procreation, and others who abstain from it and give themselves to contemplation.

The fourth objection, based on the necessity of virtue taking a middle course, may be solved from what has been said above¹ concerning poverty. For the mean of virtue does not always depend on the quantity of the thing regulated by reason, but on the rule itself of reason, which compasses the due end, and measures the requisite circumstances. And thus unreasonable abstinence from all sexual emotions is called the vice of insensibility. But if it be done in reason, it is a virtue surpassing man’s usual mode of life, since it gives man a special likeness to divinity, for which reason virgins are said to be like angels.²

From what has been said, it is clear how to answer the last objection taken from the command given to our first parents. For this precept regards the natural inclination that man has to maintain the species by the act of procreation, which not all need to fulfill, but only some, as we have said.

And as it is not expedient for everyone to refrain from marriage, so neither is it befitting at all times, when the increase of the species is at stake: either because there are few individuals, as when in the beginning the human race began to multiply; or on account of the small number of the faithful, when they had to increase by carnal generation, as was the case in the Old Testament. Hence the counsel to keep perpetual continence was reserved to the New Testament, when the faithful increase by spiritual generation.

That the state of continence is more perfect than the state of marriage

There were also others who, while not condemning perpetual continence, maintained that the married state is equal to it, which is the heresy of Jovinian. The falsity of this error is plain from what we have said, since continence renders man more able to raise his mind to spiritual and divine things, and lifts him, in a sense, above his state by likening him to the angels.

Nor does it matter that men of most perfect virtue have embraced the married state (for instance, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob), because the stronger the mind is rendered by virtue, the less is it liable to fall from its height through any cause whatsoever. And again, it does not follow that they loved less the contemplation of truth and divine things because they enjoyed the use of matrimony, but they made use of matrimony according to the needs of the time to increase the number of the faithful.

However, the perfection of a particular individual does not prove the perfection of his state, since a man may apply a more perfect mind in the use of a lesser good than does another in the use of a greater good. Hence, the fact that Abraham or Moses was more perfect than many who are continent does not argue that the married state is more perfect than, or even equal to, the state of continency.

Against those who condemn vows

Some have thought it foolish to bind oneself by vow to obey a particular person, or to abide by any particular purpose. For it seems that any good action is more virtuous in proportion to the freedom with which it is done. Now it seems that the greater the necessity by which one is bound to do a thing, so much the less freely is it done. Consequently, it would seem that virtuous acts are deserving of less praise through being necessitated by obedience or vow.

Now those who argue thus seem to not know the meaning of necessity. For necessity is twofold. There is a necessity of compulsion; this lessens the praise due to virtue, since it is opposed to what is voluntary, for compulsion is contrary to the will. But there is another necessity resulting from an interior inclination. This does not diminish but increases the praise due to a virtuous act, because it makes the will tend to the act of virtue more tensely. For it is clear that the more perfect is a habit of virtue, the more strongly does it make the will tend to the virtuous good, and the less liable to deflect from it. And when virtue has attained its perfect end, it brings with it a kind of necessity for good action (for instance, in the blessed, who cannot sin, as we shall show further on).¹ Yet the will is not any the less free for that reason, or the act less good.

There is yet another kind of necessity arising from an end, as when a ship is said to be necessary for a man that he may cross the sea. And it is plain that neither does this kind of necessity diminish the freedom of the will, or the goodness of actions. Indeed, what a man does as being necessary for an end is commendable for this very reason, and so much the more as the end is better.

Now, it is evident that the necessity of abiding by a vow, or of obeying a person to whom one has submitted oneself, is not a necessity of compulsion, nor one that comes from an interior inclination, but arises from direction to an end, because when a man has taken a vow it is necessary for him to do this or that if the vow is to be kept, or obedience observed. Hence, since these ends are praiseworthy inasmuch as man submits himself to God by them, the necessity in question takes nothing from the praise due to virtue.

In addition, we must observe that when a man does what he has vowed to do, or fulfils the commands of one to whom he has submitted himself for God’s sake, his deed is worthy of yet greater praise and reward. For sometimes one deed belongs to two vices, when the act of one vice is directed to the end of another vice. Thus when theft is committed for the purpose of fornication, the act is one of covetousness in its species, but in intention is one of lust.¹ It is the same with virtues, so that the act of one virtue may be directed to another virtue. Thus, when a man gives of his own so that he may be bound to another in the friendship of charity, his act is one of liberality in its species, but is an act of charity on account of its end. Now, an act of this kind deserves the greater praise from the greater virtue (namely, charity) than from liberality. Hence even if the act were diminished in the point of liberality, still it will call for greater praise and reward through being directed to charity than an act of greater liberality not directed to charity.

Let us, then, suppose a man to do an act of virtue: for instance, by fasting, for instance, or by abstaining from sex. If he do these things apart from a vow, it will be an act of chastity or abstinence; but if he do these things by vow, then they are referred to some other virtue to which it belongs to make vows to God, namely religion, which is a greater virtue than chastity or abstinence, since it makes us behave rightly to God. Consequently, an act of abstinence or continency will be more praiseworthy in one who keeps it by vow, even though he does not take such pleasure in abstaining or in being continent, because he takes pleasure in a greater virtue, which is religion.

Again. The most important thing in a virtue is the due end, because the character of goodness is derived chiefly from the end. Consequently, where the end is higher, even if a man be somewhat remiss in his act, his act will be more virtuous. Thus, if one man proposes to go a long way for the sake of a virtuous good, and another to go a short way, he who proposes to do the greater thing for the sake of virtue will deserve the greater praise; although he may make slower progress on the way. And if a man do something for God, he offers that act to God, but if he does it by vow, he offers God not only his act, but even his very power to act. Hence he clearly purposes to offer God something greater. Therefore, his act will be more virtuous by reason of the greater good intended, although another man may appear to be more fervent in the execution.

Therefore, that which is done by vow is more praiseworthy than what is done without a vow, other things being equal.

That neither merits nor sins are equal

It is clear from what has been said that neither all good deeds, nor all sins, are equal. For a counsel is only about a greater good.¹ Now, counsels in the divine law are about poverty, continence and the like, as stated above.² Hence these things are better than the use of marriage and the possession of earthly goods; yet with these one may live a virtuous life, if one keep within the bounds of reason, as we have proved.³ Therefore, acts of virtue are not all equal.

Again. Acts take their species from their objects. Therefore, the better the object, the more virtuous will the act be in its species. Now, the end is better than the things directed to the end: of these, one is better than another according as it is nearer to the end. Consequently, the best of human acts is that one which is directed to the last end, namely God, immediately. After this, the act will be so much the better in its species according as its object is nearer to God.

Besides. The good in human acts depends on their being regulated by reason. Now, it happens that some acts are more akin to the reason than others, insofar as acts of the reason itself have a greater share in reason’s good than the acts of the lower powers, which reason commands. Therefore, some human acts are better than others.

Also. The precepts of the law are best fulfilled through love, as stated above.¹ Now a man may happen to fulfill an obligation through greater love than another man does. Hence one virtuous act will be better than another.

Moreover. If human acts are made good by virtues, the better act must be that which proceeds from the better virtue. Now we see that one virtue is better than another: as magnificence than liberality, and magnanimity than moderation. Thus one human act will be better than another.

Hence it is said: So that he who marries his virgin does well; and he who refrains from marriage will do better (1 Cor 7:38).

The same reasons show that all sins are not equal, since by one sin a man strays more from his end than by another, and the order of reason is more subverted, and a greater harm done to one’s neighbor.

Hence it is said: You were more corrupt than they in all your ways (Ezek 16:47).

Hereby we refute the error of those who say that all merits and sins are equal.

However, there seemed to be some reason for saying that all virtuous acts are equal, because every act is virtuous that tends to the end of the good. Hence, if all good actions have the same good as their end, they must all be equally good.

But, though there is one last end of the good, the acts which derive their goodness from it receive various degrees of goodness. For there is a difference of degrees in the goods that are directed to the last end, insofar as some are better than others and approach nearer to the last end. Hence, both in the will and in its acts, there will be degrees of goodness according to the diversity of goods that are the term to which the will and its acts are directed, although the last end is the same.

In like manner, there would seem to be reason for asserting that all sins are equal, because in human acts sin results only through someone transgressing the rule of reason. Now, one transgresses the rule of reason by deviating from it slightly, just as by doing so greatly. Seemingly, then, the sin is equal whether one sins in small or in great things.

This argument seems confirmed by the practice in human judgment. For if a person is forbidden to go beyond a certain limit, it makes no difference to the judge whether he goes beyond it little or much: thus it matters not, as soon as the boxer goes outside the ring, whether he go yet further. Therefore, from the moment that one transgresses the rule of reason, it does not matter whether one transgresses little or much.

Yet, if we consider the matter carefully, wherever perfection and good consist in a certain balance, the greater the deviation from the requisite balance, the greater the evil. Thus, health consists in a proper balance of the humors; beauty in due symmetry of members; truth in equation between thought or word and thing. And it is clear that the greater the disproportion in the humors, the greater the disease; and the greater the lack of symmetry in the members, the more unsightly the deformity; and the greater the deviation from the truth, the greater the falsehood (for there is not so much falsity in thinking three to be five, as in thinking it to be a hundred). Now, the virtuous good consists in a certain proportion, for it is the mean, according to the due modification of circumstances, set between contrary vices.¹ Consequently, the greater the divergence from this harmony, the greater the malice.

There is no comparison between transgressing a virtue and transgressing the bounds appointed by a judge. For virtue is a good in itself; hence transgression of a virtue is an evil in itself, and consequently a greater deviation from virtue is a greater evil. But to break the particular bounds appointed by a judge is not an evil in itself, but accidentally—namely, because it is forbidden. Now when one thing is predicated accidentally of another, it does not follow of necessity that if A be predicated of B simply, more A should be predicated of more B,¹ but only when the predication is essential. For it does not follow that if a white being is a musical being, what is more white is more musical, but it does follow that if white dazzles the sight, more white dazzles the sight yet more.

There is, however, this difference to be observed among sins: some are mortal, and some venial. Mortal sin is that which deprives the soul of spiritual life. What this life consists in may be gathered from two things by comparing it with natural life. For the body lives naturally through being united to the soul, which is the principle of its life, and the body, quickened by the soul, is moved of itself; but a dead body either remains without movement, or is moved only by an extrinsic cause. So too, the human will is not only alive when, by its right intention, it is united to its last end—which union is its object and, as it were, its form—but also is moved by an intrinsic principle to do what is right—when man adheres to God and his neighbor by love. But without the intention of the last end and without love, the soul is dead, as it were, since it is not moved of itself to do what is right, but either leaves off so doing altogether, or is only instigated to do so by some extrinsic principle (namely, the fear of punishment). Therefore, all sins that are opposed to the intention of the last end, and to love, are mortal. On the other hand, if a man, without detriment to these, fails in a particular right order of the reason, it will not be a mortal, but a venial sin.

Reward and punishment

That man’s actions are punished or rewarded by God

It is clear from the foregoing that man’s actions are punished or rewarded by God.

For to punish or reward belongs to him who imposes the law, since legislators induce men to obey the law by rewards and punishments. Now, as we have shown above,¹ it belongs to divine providence to set a law for men. Therefore, it belongs to God to punish or reward men.

Also. As natural things are subject to the order of divine providence, so too are human acts, as we have shown.¹ In either case, the due order may happen to be observed or disregarded. But there is this difference, that observance or disregard of the due order is left in the power of the human will, whereas it is not in the power of natural things to deflect from the right order or to follow it. Now, between effect and cause there should be a certain fitting correspondence. Therefore, as when the requisite order of natural principles and actions is preserved in natural things, the result is that their nature is sustained and their good ensured of necessity, but corruption and evil result in them when the natural and requisite order is not observed; so too in human affairs it must be that when man voluntarily keeps the order of the law imposed by God, a good accrues to him, not of necessity as it were, but by the appointment of his Lord, and this is to be rewarded. Conversely, his lot is evil when the order of the law has been infringed, and this is to be punished.

Besides. It belongs to God’s goodness that he leaves nothing out of order: hence we may observe in natural things that every evil is contained in the order of some good. Thus corruption of the air is generation of fire, and the slaying of the sheep is the meal of the wolf. Since, then, human acts are subject to divine providence even as natural things are, it follows that whatever evil occurs in human actions must be included in the order of some good. This is most fittingly done in the punishment of sins. For thus things that exceed in due quantity are included in the order of justice, which reduces them to equality. Now, man exceeds the mark of his right quantity when he prefers his own will to God’s by gratifying it against the divine ordinance. And this inequality is removed when man is compelled to suffer something against his will according to the divine ordinance. Therefore, man’s sins need to be punished by God. For the same reason his good deeds should be rewarded.

Further. Divine providence not only appoints the order of things, but also moves all things to the execution of the order by himself appointed, as we have already proved.¹ Now, the will is moved by its object, which is either good or evil. Hence it belongs to divine providence to set good things before man as his reward, that his will may be moved to proceed aright, and to set evil things before him as his punishment, that he may avoid falling out of order.

This is what is said: I am your God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children . . . but showing mercy to those who love me and keep my commandments (Exod 20:5–6). Also in the Psalm: You requite a man according to his works (Ps 62:12[61:13]). Again: He will render to every man according to his works: to those who by patience in well-doing seek for glory and honor . . . but for those who . . . do not obey the truth, but obey wickedness, there will be wrath and fury (Rom 2:6–8).

Hereby we refute the error of some who said that God punishes not. For Marcion and Valentine said that the God who is good is different from the God who is just and punishes.

Since, then, as we have shown,¹ a reward is something proposed to the will as an end whereby it is urged to do well, and, on the other hand, punishment is set before the will as an evil to be avoided, to withdraw it from evil; just as it is essential to a reward that it be a good in harmony with the will, so is it a necessary condition of punishment that it be an evil, and in opposition to the will. Now, evil is the privation of good. Consequently, the difference and order of punishments must be in keeping with the difference and order of goods.

Now, the highest good is man’s beatitude, which is his last end; the nearer a thing approaches to this end, the higher must it be placed as a good of man. The nearest thing to that end is virtue,¹ and everything else that is of use to man in well-doing, whereby he attains to beatitude. After this comes the right disposition of reason, and of the powers subject to it. And after this the well-being of the body, which is requisite for facility of action. Lastly come those things that are without, which we employ as helps to virtue.

Accordingly, man’s greatest punishment will be his exclusion from beatitude. After this, privation of virtue, and of any perfection of the soul’s natural powers that conduces to well-doing; then disorder in the natural powers of the soul; then injury to the body; lastly, loss of external goods.

But as it is a necessary condition of punishment to be not only the privation of a good, but also opposed to the will, and as not every man’s will appreciates goods at their true value, it happens sometimes that the privation of a greater good is less opposed to the will, and for this reason seems to be less penal. Hence it is that many people who esteem higher and know better sensible and bodily goods than intellectual and spiritual goods fear corporal punishment more than spiritual. And in the estimation of such men the order of punishments is apparently the reverse to that given above. For to these, injuries to the body and loss of external goods seem the greatest punishment, while they think little or nothing of the disorder of their soul, the decay of virtue, and the loss of the divine fruition, in which man’s ultimate beatitude consists.

Hence it is that they think that God does not punish the sins of man, because they see that sinners for the most part are sound of body, and outwardly prosperous, while virtuous men sometimes are none of these things.

But this should not be a matter of surprise to anyone who considers the matter aright. For, since external goods are directed to internal and the body to the soul, external and bodily goods are so far good for man as they are conducive to the good as appointed by reason, while insofar as they stand in the way of reason’s good, they become evil for man. Now God, the disposer of things, knows the measure of human power. Hence at times he apportions bodily and external goods to a virtuous man as a help to virtue, and in this he bestows a favor on him. But sometimes he withdraws those things from him, because he sees them to be a hindrance to virtue and to his enjoyment of God, since external goods become evil for man for this reason, as we have stated, for the same reason their loss becomes a good for man.

If, then, every punishment is an evil, and if it is not an evil for man to be deprived of external and bodily goods (according as this is expedient for his advance in virtue), it will be no punishment for a virtuous man if he be deprived of external goods to the profit of virtue. On the other hand, for the wicked it will be a punishment if they be granted external goods, whereby they are incited to evil-doing. Hence it is said that the creatures of God are turned to an abomination, and a temptation to the souls of men, and a snare to the feet of the unwise (Wis 14:11).

Since, however, it belongs to punishment not only to be an evil, but to be opposed to the will, the loss of bodily and external goods, even when it profits man unto virtue and is not an evil for him, is called a punishment by a misuse of the term, because it is opposed to the will.

The result of man being out of order is that he does not appreciate things at their true value, and prefers the things of the body to those of the soul. This disorder is either sinful, or arises from a preceding sin. Hence it is clear that punishment is not in man, even as contrary to the will, without some preceding fault.

Another reason proves this. For things good in themselves would not become evil for men by their abuse unless some disorder already existed in man.

Again, that man should need to be deprived, for the good of virtue, of what the will accepts because it is naturally good arises from some disorder in man, which is either a sin, or results from sin. For it is evident that the preceding sin produces a certain disorder in man’s affective faculty, so that he is afterwards more easily inclined to sin. Therefore, we must suppose some sin in man if he needs to be assisted towards the good of virtue by means of something in a sense penal to him, inasmuch as it is contrary to his will—although sometimes it is voluntary, inasmuch as his reason looks to the end. However, we shall speak further on¹ of this disorder that affects human nature on account of original sin. But for the present it is clearly understood that God punishes men for their sins, and that he does not punish unless there be a fault.

That punishments and rewards are not all equal

Since, then, divine justice demands that punishments be dealt for sins and rewards for good deeds, for the maintenance of equality among things,¹ it follows that if there are degrees in acts of virtue and in sins, as we have shown,² there must also be degrees in rewards and punishments. For otherwise equality would not be observed if he that sins more did not receive greater punishment, or he that performs better deeds did not receive a greater reward. For in requiting there seems to be the same reason for discriminating between good and bad as between good and better, or between bad and worse.

Again. Rewards and punishments are appointed by the lawgiver so that men may be drawn away from evil to good, as proved above.¹ Now, not only do men need to be drawn to good things, and withdrawn from evil, but also good men need to be enticed to better things, and wicked men withdrawn from worse things. But this would not be the case were rewards and punishments equal. Therefore, both punishments and rewards should be unequal.

Further. As a thing is disposed to its form by its natural dispositions, so is a man disposed to punishments and rewards by good and evil deeds. Now, the order which divine providence has established in things is such that things which are more disposed receive a more perfect form. Therefore, there must be a difference in punishments and rewards corresponding to the difference of good and evil deeds.

Besides. Excess occurs in good and evil deeds in two ways: first, in point of number, through one man doing more good or evil deeds than another; second, in point of the quality of the deed, through one man performing a better or a worse deed than another. Now there ought to be an excess of rewards or punishments corresponding to the excess in number of deeds; or else recompense would not be made in the divine judgment for all a man’s deeds if some evil deeds were left unpunished, and some good deeds unrewarded. Equally, therefore, inequality in rewards and punishments corresponds to excess in regard to inequality of deeds.

Hence it is said: According to the measure of the sin, shall the measure also of the stripes be (Deut 25:2); and: In measure against measure, when it shall be cast off I shall punish it¹ (Isa 27:8).

Hereby we refute the error of some who say that all rewards and punishments are equal in the life to come.

It is clear from what has been said¹ that sin may happen in two ways. In one way, so that the intention of the mind altogether breaks away from its order to God, who is the last end of the good: this is mortal sin. In another way, so that, without prejudice to the human mind’s order to its last end, some obstacle is placed whereby it is hampered in tending freely to its end: this is called venial sin. If, then, punishments must differ according to the difference of sins,² it follows that he who sins mortally should be punished so as to forfeit man’s end, but that he who sins venially should be punished not to the extent of forfeiting it, but so as to be hampered, or experience difficulty, in obtaining the end. For thus is the equality of justice maintained: in the same way that man, by sinning voluntarily, turns aside from his end, so by way of punishment, against his will, should he be hindered in the attainment of his end.

Again. The will in man corresponds to the natural inclination in natural things. Now, if a natural thing be deprived of its natural inclination to its end, it is quite unable to reach that end: thus a heavy body will never reach the center if it loses its weight by corruption and becomes light. But if it be hindered in its movement while retaining its inclination to the end, it will reach its end when the obstacle is removed. When a man sins mortally, the intention of his will is altogether turned away from his last end; when he sins venially, his intention remains turned towards his end, yet somewhat hampered, by reason of his adhering more than he ought to those things that are directed to the end. Consequently, the punishment due to one who sins mortally is that he be altogether debarred from obtaining his end, while the punishment due to one who sins venially is that he experience difficulty before attaining his end.

Moreover. When a man gets a good thing unintentionally, this is by luck and chance.¹ If, then, a man whose intention is turned away from his last end obtains that last end, it will be by luck and chance. But this is unreasonable. For the last end is a good of the intelligence, but luck is incompatible with intelligence, since things that happen by chance occur without the bidding of the intellect. And it is unreasonable that the intellect obtain its end otherwise than in an intelligent way. Therefore, a man who has his intention turned away from his last end by sinning mortally will not obtain his last end.

Again. Matter does not receive a form from the agent unless it be disposed to that form. Now the end and the good are the perfection of the will, as form is of matter. Consequently, the will does not obtain the last end unless it be fittingly disposed. But the will is disposed to the end by intending and desiring the end. Therefore, a man will not obtain his end if his intentions be averted from the end.

Hence it is said: Depart from me, you evildoers (Matt 7:23).

That by mortal sin man forfeits his last end for eternity

The punishment whereby a man forfeits his last end must be endless.

For one is not deprived of a thing unless it be something one ought to have: thus a kitten newly born is not said to be deprived of sight. Now, in this life, man does not have a natural aptitude to obtain his last end, as we have proved above.¹ Therefore, privation of this end must be a punishment after this life. But man is no longer able to obtain his last end after this life. For the soul needs the body in order to obtain its end, inasmuch as through the body it acquires perfection both in knowledge and in virtue. And the soul, once separated from the body, does not return to this state in which it attains to perfection through the body, as those maintained who held the transmigration of souls, against whom we have argued above.² Therefore, the man who is punished by being deprived of his last end must remain punished eternally.

Again. When a thing is deprived of that for which it has a natural aptitude, it cannot be repaired unless it return to preexisting matter so as to be generated anew (as when an animal loses its sight or another sense). But it is impossible for a thing that is already generated to be generated again, unless it first be corrupted: then from the same matter, it will be possible for another to be generated in its entirety, not identically the same, but in species. Now, a spiritual being, such as the soul or an angel, cannot return to preexisting matter so that another be generated anew, the same as before in species. Consequently, if it be deprived of that for which it has a natural aptitude, it must remain eternally thus deprived. Now, in the nature of the soul and of an angel there is the order to the last end, namely God. Therefore, if it be punished by privation of that order, such punishment will remain forever.

Besides. Natural equity would seem to demand that everyone be deprived of that good against which he has acted, since by this he renders himself unworthy of that good. Hence it is that, according to civil justice, he who sins against the state is altogether deprived of the society of his fellow citizens, either by being put to death, or by being condemned to exile for life: nor is any account taken of the time taken in sinning, but of that against which he sinned. Now, the same comparison stands between the whole of the present life and the earthly state as between the whole of eternity and the society of the blessed who, as we showed above,¹ possess their last end eternally. Therefore, he that sins against his last end, and against charity, which is the bond of the society of the blessed and of those who are tending to beatitude, ought to be punished eternally, although his sins may have occupied but a short time.

Further. For the same just reason punishment is rendered for sins, and reward for good deeds.¹ Now, beatitude is the reward of virtue,² and beatitude is everlasting, as we have shown.³ Therefore, the punishment by which one is deprived of beatitude should also be everlasting.

Hence it is said: They will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life (Matt 25:46).

Hereby we refute the error of those who assert that the punishment of the wicked will at length have an end. This statement seems to have originated in the opinion of certain philosophers, who maintained that all punishment is remedial, and therefore terminable at some time.

There seemed to be reasons for this assertion: both because it is customary among men that punishments be inflicted by men’s laws for the correction of vice, so that they are like medicine; and because if the punisher inflicts punishment not for a further purpose but for its own sake, it follows that he delights in punishing for its own sake, which is inconsistent with the divine goodness. Therefore, punishments must be inflicted for a further purpose; and no end seems more fitting than the correction of vice. Consequently, it would seem reasonably stated that all punishments are remedial, and therefore terminable at some time, since what can be remedied is accidental to the creature, and is removable without the substance being destroyed.

It must be granted that God inflicts punishments not for his own sake, as though he took pleasure in them, but for the sake of something else, namely, on account of the order that must be imposed on creatures, in which order the good of the universe consists. Now, the order of things demands that all things be dispensed by God proportionally; for which reason it is said that God does all things in weight, number and measure.¹ And as rewards correspond proportionally to acts of virtue, so do punishments to sins: and to some sins eternal punishment is proportionate, as we have proved. Therefore, for certain sins God inflicts eternal punishment, that in things there may be maintained the right order which shows forth his wisdom.

Even if we were to grant that all punishments are intended for the amendment of morals and for no further purpose, we would not, for that reason, have to assert that all punishments are remedial and terminable. For even according to human laws, some are punished with death for the amendment not of themselves, but of others. Hence it is said: Strike a scoffer, and the fool will be wiser (Prov 19:25). Again, according to human laws, some are banished from the state into perpetual exile, that by being rid of them the state may be purified. Therefore, it is said: Cast out the scoffer, and contention will go out with him, and quarrels and reproaches shall cease (Prov 22:10). Consequently, even if punishments be inflicted only for the amendment of morals, nothing forbids certain men being separated forever, according to the divine judgment, from the fellowship of good men and being punished eternally. This is so that men may refrain from sin for fear of eternal punishment, and the society of the good may be purified through being purged of their presence. Thus it is said: There shall not enter into it, namely, the heavenly Jerusalem, through which is designated the society of good men, anything unclean, or anyone who practices abomination or falsehood (Rev 21:27).

That sins are punished also by the sinner being subjected to some kind of pain

Those who sin against God are to be punished not only by forfeiting beatitude forever, but also by being subjected to some kind of pain. For punishment should be proportionate to fault, as we proved above.¹ Now, when a man sins, his mind not only turns away from his last end, but also turns unduly to other things as ends. Therefore, the sinner should be punished not only by being debarred from his end, but also by experiencing hurt from other things.

Again. Punishments are inflicted for sins that men may be withdrawn from sin through fear of being punished, as stated above.¹ Now no one fears to lose what he desires not to get. Consequently, those whose will is turned away from their last end do not fear to lose it. Hence they would not be recalled from sinning by the mere loss of their last end. Therefore, some other punishment, which sinners would fear, should be inflicted on them.

Also. If a man abuses the means to an end, not only is he debarred from the end, but he incurs some other hurt besides: for instance, food taken injudiciously not only does not strengthen, but even causes sickness. Now the man who places his end in creatures does not use them as he should, namely, by referring them to his last end. Therefore, he should be punished not only by forfeiting beatitude, but also by undergoing some hurt from them.

Hence it is that Sacred Scripture threatens sinners not only with exclusion from glory, but also with affliction from other things. For it is said: Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels (Matt 25:41); and: On the wicked he will rain coals of fire and brimstone; a scorching wind shall be the portion of their cup (Ps 11:6[10:7]).

Hereby we refute the opinion of Algazel, who said that the only punishment given to sinners is their loss of their last end.

That it is lawful for judges to inflict punishments

But because some belittle the punishments inflicted by God insofar as they care only for outward appearances, being attached to sensible things, divine providence has ordered that on earth there be men who compel certain people to do right by inflicting sensible and present punishments. Now, it is clear that they do not sin in punishing the wicked. For no man sins through doing right, and it is right for the wicked to be punished, since by punishment sin is righted, as we have shown above.¹ Therefore, judges do not sin by punishing the wicked.

Again. Men who are placed over others on earth are executors, as it were, of divine providence, because God, by the ordinance of his providence, accomplishes lower things through higher things, as we have proved.¹ Now, no man sins through carrying out the order of divine providence. And divine providence has ordained that the just be rewarded, and the wicked punished, as we have shown.² Therefore, men who are placed over others do not sin by rewarding the good and punishing the wicked.

Besides. The good does not need the evil, but conversely. Therefore, that which is necessary in order to maintain the good cannot be evil in itself. Now, it is necessary for punishment to be inflicted on evil-doers, for the maintenance of peace among men. Therefore, punishment of evil-doers is not an evil in itself.

Also. The good of the community surpasses a particular good of the individual.¹ Therefore, the particular good must give way so that the common good may be maintained. Now, the life of a few pestilential individuals is a hindrance to the common good, which is the harmony of the human community. Therefore, such men should be cut off by death from the society of their fellows.

Hence the Apostle says: Do you not know that a little leaven corrupts the whole lump? (1 Cor 5:6). And a little further on he adds: Drive out the wicked person from among you (1 Cor 5:13). Again, speaking of earthly authority, he says that he does not bear the sword in vain; he is the servant of God to execute his wrath on the wrongdoer (Rom 13:4). Again, it is said: Be subject for the Lord’s sake to every human institution, whether it be to the king as supreme, or to governors as sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to praise those who do right (1 Pet 2:13–14).

Hereby we refute the error of those who say that capital punishment is unlawful. They base their error on the words of Exodus 20:13, You shall not kill, which are quoted in Matthew 5:21. They also quote the saying of our Lord in reply to the servants who wished to gather the cockle from the midst of the wheat: Let both grow together until the harvest (Matt 13:30): for the cockle signifies the sons of the evil one, and the harvest is the close of the age, as stated in the same passage (Matt 13:38–39). Therefore, the wicked should not be cut off from the midst of the good by being condemned to death.

They also point out that as long as he is on earth man may be converted to better ways. Therefore, he should not be put away from the world, but should be kept there that he may repent.

But these arguments are of no account. For the same law that says: You shall not kill, afterwards adds: You shall not permit wizards to live (Exod 22:18). Hence we are to understand that the prohibition is against the unjust slaying of a man. This is also evident from our Lord’s words in Matt 5. For after saying: You have heard that it was said to the men of old: You shall not kill, he added: I say to you that every one who is angry with his brother shall be liable to judgment (Matt 5:22). By which he gives us to understand that it is forbidden to kill through anger, but not through zeal for righteousness. How we ought to take our Lord’s words: Let both grow together until the harvest, is clear from what follows: Lest in gathering the cockle you root up the wheat along with it (Matt 13:30). Hence it is forbidden to slay the wicked when this cannot be done without danger to the good. And this is often the case when the wicked are not yet discernible from the good by notorious sins, or when it is to be feared lest the wicked draw many good men after them.

The fact that the wicked are able to amend while alive does not prevent their being justly slain, for the peril that threatens through their remaining alive is greater and more certain than the good to be expected from their amendment. Moreover, in the very hour of death they are able to repent and be converted to God. And if they be so obstinate that even in the hour of death their heart does not abandon its wickedness, it may be reckoned with sufficient probability that they will never recover from their evil ways.

Grace

That man needs the divine assistance in order to obtain beatitude

But because it is clear from the foregoing¹ that divine providence governs rational creatures otherwise than other things inasmuch as they differ from others in natural condition, it remains to be proved that on account of the excellence of their end, a more exalted mode of government is also applied to them by divine providence.²

It is evident that in keeping with their nature, they attain to a higher participation of the end. For, since they are of an intellectual nature, they are able by their operation to be in touch with intelligible truth, which is impossible for other things, since they lack intelligence. And insofar as they attain to intelligible truth by their natural operation, it is clear that God provides for them otherwise than for other things, in that intelligence and reason are given to man that thereby he may be able both to discern and to discover the truth. Also, to him are given the sensitive powers, both interior and exterior, that by them he may be assisted to discover the truth. Also, to him is given the use of speech, so that by making use of it, one who has conceived the truth in his mind may be able to impart it to another, so that men may thus assist one another in the knowledge of truth even as in other necessaries of life, since man is by nature a social animal.¹

Furthermore, the knowledge of truth that is appointed as man’s last end is one which surpasses his natural faculty, for it consists in his seeing the first truth itself in itself, as we have proved above.¹ Now this is not suited to lower creatures—namely, that they be able to reach an end surpassing their natural faculty. Consequently, there arises from this end an additional reason why a different manner of government should be accorded to men and to other creatures of a lower nature, because the means should be proportionate to the end. Thus, if man be directed to an end surpassing his natural faculty, he stands in need of a supernatural assistance from God to enable him to tend to that end.

Moreover. A thing of inferior nature cannot attain to what is proper to a higher nature except by virtue of that higher nature. Thus the moon, that does not shine of itself, is made to shine by the power and action of the sun; likewise, water that is not hot of itself becomes hot by the power and action of fire. Now, to see the first truth itself in itself so far surpasses the faculty of human nature that it belongs to God alone, as we have shown above.¹ Therefore, man needs the divine assistance in order to reach that end.

Again. Everything obtains its last end by its own operation. Now, an operation derives its efficacy from the operating principle: hence, by the action of the seed, something is produced in a definite species through the efficacy preexisting in the seed. Therefore, man cannot attain to his last end by his own operation, which surpasses the faculty of his natural powers, unless his operation be enabled by the divine power to bring him to it.

Besides. No instrument can achieve ultimate perfection by virtue of its own form, but only by virtue of the principal agent: although by virtue of its own form it can cause some disposition to the ultimate perfection. Thus a saw, by reason of its own form, causes the cutting of the wood, but the form of the bench is produced by the art that employs the instrument; likewise in the body of an animal, resolution and consumption is the result of the animal heat, but the formation of flesh, and regulation of increase and other such things, come from the vegetative soul, which uses heat as its instrument. Now, to God, the first intellect and willer, all intellects and wills are subordinate¹ as instruments under the principal agent. Consequently, their operations have no efficacy in respect of their ultimate perfection, which is the attainment of final beatitude, except by the power of God. Therefore, the rational nature needs the divine assistance in order to obtain its last end.

Hence it is said: No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him (John 6:44); and: As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me (John 15:4).

Hereby we refute the error of the Pelagians, who asserted that man can merit the glory of God by his free-will alone.

That the assistance of divine grace does not compel man to virtue

It could appear to some that the divine assistance compels man to do well, since it is said: No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him (John 6:44); and on account of the saying: All who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God (Rom 8:14); and again: For the love of Christ controls us (2 Cor 5:14). And it would seem that compulsion is implied in being drawn, led and controlled.

But it is evident that this is not true. For divine providence provides for all things according to their mode, as we have proved above.¹ Now, it is proper to man—and every rational nature—to act voluntarily and to be master of his actions, as we have shown.² And compulsion is incompatible with this. Therefore, God does not compel man to do right by assisting him.

Again. When we say that the divine assistance is given to man that he may do well, we mean that it does our works in us, even as the first cause does the works of second causes, and the principal agent produces the action of the instrument. Hence it is said: Lord, you have wrought in¹ us all our works (Isa 26:12). Now, the first cause produces the operation of the second cause, according to the latter’s mode. Therefore, God also causes our works in us according to our mode, which is that we act freely and not by compulsion. Therefore, the divine assistance does not compel a man to do right.

Besides. Man is directed to his end by his will, because the object of the will is the good and the end. Now, the divine assistance is given to us chiefly that we may obtain the end. Therefore, this assistance does not deprive us of the act of the will, but in a special way is the cause of this act in us. Hence the Apostle says: God is at work in us,¹ both to will and to work, for his good pleasure (Phil 2:13). But compulsion excludes from us the act of the will: for we do under compulsion that which is against our will. Therefore, God does not compel us to do right by his assistance.

Further. Man reaches his last end by acts of virtue, for beatitude is said to be the reward of virtue.¹ Now compulsory actions are not acts of virtue, because virtue’s principal condition is choice, which is impossible unless it be voluntary, to which compulsion is opposed. Therefore, God does not compel man to do right.

Hence it is said: Consider that the Lord has¹ set before you this day life and good, death and evil. that you may . . . love the Lord your God, by walking in his ways . . . But if your heart turns away, and you will not hear. . . I declare to you this day, that you shall perish (Deut 30:15–18). Again it is said: Before man are life and death, and whichever he chooses will be given to him (Sir 15:17).

That man is unable to merit the divine assistance

It can be clearly shown from what has been said that man is unable to merit God’s assistance. For everything is in the position of matter in regard to what is above it. Now matter does not move itself to its perfection, but needs to be moved by another. Therefore, man does not move himself to the effect of obtaining the divine assistance, for this is above him: indeed, rather is he moved for this purpose by God.¹ Now the motion of the mover precedes the movement of the thing moved both logically and causally. Consequently, the divine assistance is not given to us because by our good deeds we previously move ourselves to obtain it, but rather do we advance by our good deeds because of God’s prevenient help.

Again. An instrumental agent does not produce a disposition for the introduction of perfection by the principal agent except insofar as it acts by virtue of the principal agent. Thus animal heat does not prepare matter for the form of flesh any more than for another form, save insofar as it acts by virtue of the soul. Now, our soul works under God as the instrumental under the principal agent.¹ Consequently, the soul is unable to prepare itself to receive the effect of the divine assistance save insofar as it acts by virtue of God. Therefore, it is anticipated by the divine assistance, rather than anticipates it (as though it merited it or prepared itself for it).

Also. No particular agent can in every case anticipate the action of the first universal agent, because every action of a particular agent originates from a universal agent. Thus here below every movement is anticipated by the heavenly movement. Now, the human soul is subordinate to God as the particular to the universal agent. Therefore, there cannot be a right movement in the soul that is not anticipated by the divine action. Hence our Lord said: Apart from me you can do nothing (John 15:5).

Besides. Meed is proportionate to merit, because equality of justice is observed in giving rewards. Now, since the effect of God’s assistance surpasses the faculty of nature, it is not proportionate to the acts that man performs by his natural faculty. Therefore, man cannot merit the aforesaid assistance by such acts.

Hence it is said: He saved us not because of deeds done by us in justice, but in virtue of his own mercy (Titus 3:5). And: It depends not upon man’s will, namely, to will, or the runner, namely, to run, but upon God’s mercy (Rom 9:16). For in order that he may will and do well, man needs God’s prevenient assistance, even as an effect is not usually ascribed to the proximate agent but to the first mover. Thus victory is attributed to the general, although it is achieved by the work of the soldiers. Hence these words do not exclude free-will, as some have misunderstood them to do, as though man were not master of his own actions both internal and external; but they indicate the subjection of the free-will to God. Moreover, it is said: Convert us to yourself, O Lord, and we shall be converted (Lam 5:21): from which it is clear that our conversion to God is anticipated by the assistance of God when he converts us.

Yet we read as said in the person of God: Convert to me, and I will convert to you (Zech 1:3). This does not, however, deny the anticipating of our conversion by God’s operation which we have affirmed, but it means that after our conversion, whereby we turn to him, he maintains it by strengthening it so as to make it effective, and by upholding it, that it may reach its due end.

Hereby we refute the error of the Pelagians, who said that this assistance is given to us on account of our merits, and that the beginning of our justification is from us, but the consummation from God.

That this same assistance is called grace, and what is meant by sanctifying grace

Seeing that what is given to a man apart from his merits is said to be given to him gratis; and since the divine assistance given to man anticipates all human merit, as we have said;¹ it follows that this assistance is bestowed on man gratuitously, and therefore is fittingly known by the name of grace. Hence the Apostle says: If it is by grace, it is no longer on the basis of works; otherwise grace would no longer be grace (Rom 11:6).

There is also another reason for which the aforesaid assistance of God has received the name of grace. For one man is said to be gratifying to another because he is beloved by him; hence he who is beloved of another is said to be in his grace. Now it is essential to love that the lover be a well-wisher and a well-doer to the one whom he loves. And indeed the good of every creature is the object of God’s will and operation, since the creature’s very being and its every perfection come from God willing and operating, as we have proved above.¹ Hence it is said: For you love all things that exist, and have loathing for none of the things which you have made (Wis 11:24[25]). But a special kind of divine love offers itself to our consideration; it is that which is bestowed on those whom he assists to obtain a good which surpasses the order of their nature, namely, the perfect enjoyment not of any created good, but of his very self. Accordingly, this assistance is fittingly named grace: not only because it is given gratis, as we have shown; but also because by this assistance man, by a special favor, is rendered gratifying to God. Hence the Apostle says: He destined us to be his sons . . . according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace which he freely bestowed on us in his beloved Son (Eph 1:5–6).

Now this same grace must be something in the man who is graced as a kind of form and perfection. For that which is being directed to an end must have a continuous order to it, because the mover causes a continuous change in the thing moved, until the latter by its movement reaches the end. Since, then, man is directed to his last end by the assistance of the divine grace, as we proved above,¹ it follows that he must possess this assistance continuously until he reach his end. But this would not be the case were man to share in this assistance by way of motion or passion, and not by way of a form, abiding and reposing within him, as it were. For such motion and passion would not be in man except when he is actually turned towards his end, and this is not always so in man, as may be seen especially when he is asleep. Therefore, sanctifying grace is a form and perfection abiding in man, even when he is doing nothing.