Nineteenth Century Scholasticism The Search For A Unitary Method Gerald A Mccool

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Nineteenth Century Scholasticism The Search For A Unitary Method Gerald A Mccool
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NINETEENTH-CENTURY
SCHOLASTICISM

NINETEENTH-CENTURY
SCHOLASTICISM
The Search for a Unitary Method
GERALD A. MCCOOL, S.J.
FORDHAM UNIVERSITY PRESS
NEW YORK

©Copyright 1977 by Gerald A. McCool, S.J
All rights reserved.
u:89-85007
ISBN 0-8232-1257-2
Originally published under the title Catholic Theology in the Nineteenth
Century by The Seabury Press in 1977
Fordham University Press edition 1989
Third printing, 1999
McCool, Gerald A.
[Catholic theology in the nineteenth century)
Nineteenth-century scholasticism :'the search
for a
unitary method
I Gerald A. McCool.
I. Theology, Catholic-History.
2. Theology, Doctrinal-History-19th century.
I. Title.
BXI747 .M25 1996 230/.2
Printed in the United States of America

To the memory of
Walter Stokes, S.J

Acknowledgements
An expression of gratitude is due to Fordham University for the Faculty Fellowship
which enabled me to spend the school year 1975-1976 in research and writing. A
warm word of thanks is also due to the Reverend james Hennessy, SJ, then
President of the jesuit School ofTheology in Chicago, and to Dean joseph Kitagawa
of the University of Chicago Divinity School. A visiting research professorship at
the Divinity School and a scholarship in residence at the jesuit School of Theology
placed at my disposal the magnificent resources both of the University library and
of the libraries attached to the divinity schools clustered around it. A formal
expression of gratitude should also be addressed to Dr. Anne Carr, Assistant Dean
of the Divinity School, to its faculty and students, and to my colleagues at the jesuit
School of Theology. Their encouragement and cooperation with my work had a
great deal to do with its successful conclusion. Finally, a very special word of
thanks is due to Professor David Tracy of the Divinity School for the indispensable
stimulating help which he gave to the shaping of this book in many stimulating
conversations during my stay in Chicago.

CONTENTS
Introduction 1
1. The Background of Nineteenth-Century Theology 17
2. French Traditionalism 37
3-Hermes, Drey and Renascent Scholasticism 59
4· Anton GUnther's Dualism 88
5· Ontologism 113
6. The Scholastic Reaction 129
7· Liberatore's Philosophical Synthesis 145
8. Kleutgen's Theological Synthesis: I. Apologetics and Posi-
tive Theology
167 9· Kleutgen's Theological Synthesis: II. Practical and Specula-
tive Theology
188 10. Dei Filius and Aeterni Patris 216
Epilogue : The Reemergence of Pluralism 241
Notes 268
h~ ~

NINETEENTH-CENTURY
SCHOLASTICISM

INTRODUCTION
On 22 April 1870 the Apostolic Constitution on Faith, Dei Filit1s, was
solemnly approved by the assembled fathers of the First Vatican Council.
On 4 August 1879 the encyclical Aeterni Patris was issued by the Roman
pontiff Leo XIII. These two dates are significant in the history of Roman
Catholic theology.
Separated by almost ten years, in one
of the most momentous and
troubled decades in the Church's history, the two documents differed
significantly in both their doctrinal content and
in the weight of their
authority.
Dei
Filit1s was an apostolic constitution, approved unani­
mously by an ecumenical council.
It defined and clarified the Church's
dogmatic teaching about the freedom and supernatural character of faith
and the relation between supernatural faith and natural reason.
Aeterni
Patris, on the other hand, was a purely disciplinary document, resting
upon the juridical authority of the reigning pontiff, Leo XIII. Its scope
was limited to the method of philosophical instruction approved for the
education of future priests in seminary and Catholic faculties. When
linked together, however, in the minds of the Roman authorities and of
the theologians influenced by these two documents,
as in fact they were,
Dei
Filit1s and Aeterni Patris amounted to a profoundly significant con­
crete decision by the highest authorities of the Catholic Church.
It was a decision which profoundly influenced the history of Catholic
theology. Indeed it determined the course of its development for almost
a century.
It also fixed the pattern of Catholic theology's understanding
of its own history from the beginning
of the Catholic reaction to the
Enlightenment in the early nineteenth century until the publication
of
Aeterni Patris. Finally it determined the method according to which
Cath­
olic positive and speculative theology endeavored to retrie"e the heritage
of its own Catholic doctrinal tradition and to present that tradition to the
1

2 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
modern world in an ongoing dialogue with contemporary culture.
A good deal
of the credit for these developments must be attributed to
Joseph Kleutgen, the greatest
of the early Jesuit neo-Thomists. Kleutgen
was the theologian who drafted the final version
of the Apostolic
Consti­
tution on Faith adopted by the First Vatican Council. The language of
the constitution on the relation between faith and reason reflects Kleut­
gen's scholastic thought. The classification of disapproved positions
under the opposed categories
of fideists, who conceded too little to
unaided human reason in relation to man's knowledge of God, and
semi­
rationalists, who conceded too much, is due to Kleutgen. Kleutgen is
often credited with the principal, if not the exclusive, authorship of
Aeterni Patris, the encyclical in which Leo XIII proclaimed the Church's
official option for the Aristotelian method
of
St. Thomas in her philo­
sophical and theological instruction. Finally Kleutgen's two major
works,
Die Theologie der
Vorzeit and Die Philosophie der Vorzeit, present a
masterly exposition of the German theology
of Hermes, Gunther, and
the Tubingen
School, followed by an incisive critique of their theology
in the light of his own scholastic system.
SELF-INTERPRETATION
OF CATHOLIC THEOLOGY
For years the generally accepted picture of the pre-Thomistic nine­
teenth-century thedlogy was Kleutgen's interpretation of it. At the begin­
ning of the century Catholic theologians had forgotten their scholastic
heritage. They had attempted to restore
Catholic theology by using new
theological methods modeled on the philosophical method of post-Carte­
sian philosophy. These methods had shown that they could not handle
satisfactorily the relation between faith and reason. Hence the condem­
nation
of the traditionalist Bautain on the grounds of fideism, and the
condemnation
of the post-Kantian theologians Hermes and Gunther on
the grounds
of semirationalism. In the second half of the nineteenth
century a renewed Neo-Thomism had restored the Church's traditional
scholastic method in philosophy and theology. Scholasticism had shown
that it could handle the problem
of faith and reason. In Aeterni Patris a
grateful Church had given her official approval to the Thomistic revival.
Hence the history of nineteenth-century Catholic theology was the story
of its journey
ex umbris et imaginibus in veritatem.
A century later, in another momentous and troubled decade in the
Church's history, Catholic theologians are engaged in a serious reconsid­
eration of the received interpretation of nineteenth-century Catholic the-

Introduction J
ology. Catholic theology has undergone a steady internal evolution since
the inception of the Mar~chalian New Theology (nouvelle thtologie) thirty
years ago.
The historically open, dialectical, subject-oriented theologies
of Rahner and Lonergan are authentic developments
of the Marechalian
New Theology
of the forties and fifties. The New Theology, which we
associate with the names
of Henri de Lubac, Henri Bouillard, and the
theological faculty of
Fourvi~re, was the polar antithesis of the Domini·
can Thomism of Garrigou-Lagrange, Jacques Maritain, and the Toulouse
Dominicans associated with
La
Revue Thomiste. But it also had little in
common with the New Theologians' great Jesuit predecessor, Louis Bit­
lot. More than that, its distinctive theses would have won little sympathy
from the distinguished Jesuit founders
of the neo-Thomist movement
Matteo Liberatore and Joseph Kleutgen.
The distinctive characteristics of the New Theology were its subjective
starting point, a receptive attitude toward post-Cartesian philosophy, a
dialectic
of the subject, reminiscent of the dialectic of Fichte and the
post-Kantian idealists, the grounding
of the objective validity of concep­
tual thought through an
a
priori grasp of the absolute, and an emphasis
upon an organic conception
of nature and society strongly influenced by
neo-Platonic and patristic thought.
But these were the characteristics that distinguished the anti-Thomis­
tic modern theologies of the nineteenth century.
The fundamental theses
ofthe Jesuit New Theology were, in fact, the philosophical
"errors" from
which their neo-Thomist ancestors had hoped to "free" Catholic theol­
ogy. Thus, sixty years after
Aeterni
Patris the Jesuit descendants of the
early neo-Thomists had welcomed into their revised Thomistic synthesis
the epistemology and metaphysics of their ancestors' theological archene­
mies.
And, as
ifto heighten the irony, the New Theologians performed their
act
of unfilial betrayal by exploiting the philosophical potentialities of the
weapon their ancestors had used to undermine
the epistemology and
metaphysics
on which their opponents' modern theologies were built.
This weapon was
St. Thomas' metaphysics of knowledge and the meta­
physics
of man and being which that metaphysics of knowledge required.
GEISELMANN AND THE CATHOLIC TtiBINGEN ScHOOL
At the very time that the New Theologians were carrying out their
radical reorientation
of Thomistic theology, Joseph Rupert Geiselmann
was engaged in his historical research into the theology of the nineteenth-

4 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
century Catholic Tiibingen School. The Tiibingen theologians had been
great rivals
of the scholastic theologians in nineteenth-century Germany.
Neither school was destined to understand
or sympathize with the other.
The Tiibingen theologians were noted for their strong attachment to
Catholic orthodoxy and their devotion to the Church. They were also
very careful scientific theologians. Consequently Tiibingen theology
avoided the shattering Roman condemnations which sealed the fate of
other nineteenth-century theologians. Tiibingen continued to function
as a respected faculty of theology, justly proud of its theological tradition
and
of the contribution which it had made to the revival of Catholic
thought in Germany. Nevertheless, in the period between
Aeterni Patris
and the middle
1930S, the theology of Tiibingen's nineteenth-century
representatives, Drey, Mohler, Hirscher, Staudenmaier, and Kuhn, was
generally considered worthy
of no more than historical interest. The
theological method of the nineteenth-century Tiibingen theologians was
dismissed
as one more nineteenth-century method which had failed the
crucial test
of dealing successfully with the relations between faith and
reason, grace and nature.
Geiselmann's patient editing
of the works of the Tiibingen
School has
changed this negative estimation
of their theological method. Geisel­
mann has given his readers a detailed and exact exposition of the Tiibin­
gen theology
of revelation, its understanding of the development of
doctrine and the role of the Holy
Spirit in the Church, which is the bearer
of Christ's living tradition. As the result of Geiselmann's work theolo­
gians now possess a clearer picture of Tiibingen's theological method,
and Tiibingen theology
is taken seriously again as an orthodox nine­
teenth-century alternative to Thomism. For Geiselmann has shown that,
contrary to the commonly held belief, the Tiibingen theologians did, in
fact, possess a consistent and orthodox theology
of faith and reason, grace
and nature.
It was not the failure of the Tiibingen theologians to deal
with these problems in a satisfactory manner which occasioned the aban­
donment
of the Tiibingen theology after Aeterni Patris. It was the failure
of the scholastically oriented Roman theologians and their increasingly
powerful disciples to understand and appreciate the Tiibingen solutions.
Following Geiselmann's footsteps, younger theologians in the Tiibin­
gen tradition, Walter Kasper for example, have also turned their atten­
tion to the work
of the nineteenth-century Catholic Tiibingen School.
Their purpose, moreover,
is not simply to expound and vindicate the
nineteenth-century Tiibingen theology.
It is rather to develop its re-

Introduction 5
sources as a living tradition in Catholic theology. For just as contempo­
rary Thomism
is no longer the Thomism of Liberatore and Kleutgen,
contemporary Tubingen theology would not be the theology
of Drey,
Mohler, and Hirscher. Contemporary Tubingen theology would
be a
theology of the present
age, whose epistemology and metaphysics have
evolved through its dialogue with contemporary philosophy. Neverthe­
less, since Tubingen epistemology and metaphysics were fundamentally
diverse from the epistemology and metaphysics of
St. Thomas, a devel­
oped Tubingen theology should present itself as a distinctly different
theology, a genuine and orthodox alternative to a developed Thomism.
Should this occur, the debate between Tubingen and Thomistic theology
would
be renewed in the Catholic Church, this time, hopefully, through
a calmer and more fruitful exchange
of views.
REcoNSIDERATION OF GERMAN NINETEENTH-CENTURY THEOLOGY
The debate between a developed Thomism, which has united St.
Thomas' metaphysics of knowledge, man, and being with the major
themes of Thomas' nineteenth-century opponents, and the contempo­
rary heirs of the Tubingen theological tradition
is simply one interesting
example
of Catholic theology's renewed interest in its nineteenth-cen­
tury history
as the centenary of Aeterni Patris draws near. A number of
important studies have appeared in recent years dealing with the works
of the German theologians Hermes, Gunther, and Frohschammer. The
Italian
"ontologists" Gioberti and Rosmini have also been critically re­
considered. Several very valuable works on the history of the Thomist
revival have been published in the last few years.
The attitude of their
authors has been almost uniformly positive toward the non-Thomistic
nineteenth-century theologians; and the aim
of their works has been to
throw light on the possibilities which the nineteenth-century
"modern"
theological method held out for the development of modern Catholic
theology, and which the neo-Thomist critics
of the modern nineteenth­
century systems failed to
see. In some instances, these authors tell us,
those lost possibilities have been retrieved by contemporary transcenden­
tal Thomism.
Such seems to have been the case with Anton Gunther, for
example. Karl Rahner's systematic theology does justice to some
of the
key insights of Gunther's speculative theology. Gunther's speculative
synthesis was based on the ontological relations linking together the
Trinity, the Incarnation, the Holy
Spirit, and the Church. Rahner has

6 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
been able to link the Christian mysteries together, and, like Gunther,
Rahner has been able to relate his unified system
of the Christian
myster­
ies to the inner life of the human subject and the human subject's experi­
ence of his historical world of spirit and nature. But, in other instances,
as perhaps in the case of Tiibingen theology, Catholic theologians are
being confronted with a nineteenth-century Catholic theology which has
come to life again and which may represent a genuinely distinct and
irreducible theology, incapable of absorption into even a highly
devel­
oped transcendental Thomism.
A GENUINE OPTION BETWEEN THOMISM AND OTHER METHODS
The possibility of a genuine option between a developed Thomism and
a restored pre-Thomistic nineteenth-century system could well be the
result of the current historical research into Catholic nineteenth-century
theology. At least two factors affecting contemporary Catholic theology
give us reason to think
so. The first of these is the freedom given to
Catholic theologians by the
Second Vatican Council to experiment with
non-Thomistic theological systems.
Aeterni Patris no longer enjoys the
status
of an irrevocable theological option, based on immutable dogmatic
and metaphysical principles. Its theological signification has been relativ­
ized.
Aeterni Patris must now be considered an historical moment in the
dialectical progress of theological development.
The second distinctive
characteristic
of contemporary theology is the current ferment over
theo­
logical method. This means that the nineteenth-century debate over theo­
logical method, which the official option of Aeterni Patris seemed to have
closed definitively, has been reopened.
The disciples of
St. Thomas and
the partisans of the "new" theologies are free once more to submit their
diverse theological methods to the judgment
of their fellow theologians.
As a result, Catholic theologians are considering again the two major
documents in which the Church's nineteenth-century decision for
Thomas' Aristotelian method was expressed. Theologians are restudying
the nineteenth-century debate between the Thomist and non-Thomist
theologians which preceded the Church's decision. What were the
dog­
matic and philosophical reasons which the Thomists advanced to justify
the choice
of
St. Thomas' theology? Are those dogmatic and philosophical
reasons still valid?
Catholic theology
is a systematic intellectual reflection on the historical
data
of Christian revelation encountered in the living tradition of the

Introduction 7
Church and accepted through the reasonable act of faith of the Christian
believer. Therefore apologetics, and positive, speculative, and moral the­
ology must all be concerns of the Catholic theologian. Each of these
disciplines must be assigned the proper place
in a Catholic theological
synthesis demanded by the system's proper theological method. But,
in
order to assign these disciplines their proper place and designate their
proper function, a Catholic theological system must define the relation
of each discipline to the supernatural act
of faith through which the
Christian believer assents to historical Christian revelation.
It must also
specify the character of the rational reflection which justifies the reason­
ableness of the Christian act of faith and leads the Christian to a deeper
penetration of its content.
The relation of rational reflection to the supernatural act of faith was
specified in different ways by Thomistic and non-Thomistic nineteenth­
century theologians. And,
as a result, the nature and function of apologet­
ics, and positive, speculative, and moral theology differed radically in
their systems. And so, in consequence, did the conception
of a perdu ring
doctrinal tradition in Catholic theology.
KLEUTGEN's
ARISTOTELIAN SciENTIFIC THEOLOGY
The neo-Thomist theologians, of whom Joseph Kleutgen was the great­
est representative, were convinced that St. Thomas' theology
of grace and
nature was the only theology which could accurately determine the
proper relationship between faith and reason. Grace was the entitative
habit inhering
in the soul. Faith was an operative habit inhering in the
intellect. Natural reason could prove the existence
of God and the reason­
ableness of the act of faith. Therefore apologetics was an historical and
philosophical propaedeutic to faith and reason. Consequently the tradi­
tionalism of de Lamennais, Bautain, and the Catholic Tiibingen School,
which made man's knowledge of the first principles of metaphysics and
ethics dependent upon a primitive act
of divine revelation communicated
to Adam's descendants by tradition, deprived human reason of its legiti­
mate autonomy and, by doing so, undermined the reasonableness
of the
act of faith.
It was not surprising therefore that none of these theologians
appreciated the necessity
of an historical and a philosophical apologetics.
On the other hand, certain knowledge of the Trinity, the Incarna­
tion, and the other Christian mysteries could be acquired only through
the free assent
of faith which proceeded from the supernatural opera-

8 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
tive habit of faith in a human intellect elevated by the entitative habit
of sanctifying grace. But Rosmini, Gioberti, and the ontologist philoso­
phers and theologians, who required an intuition of Infinite Being to
ground the objectivity of human knowledge, conceded thereby to philo­
sophical natural reason an intuition of God's own being which only
grace could give.
The German theologians, Hermes and Gunther,
claimed that unaided philosophical reason could make true and certain
judgments about the Christian mysteries. Therefore both the ontolo­
gists and the German theologians were semirationalists who failed to
respect the gratuitous and distinctive character
of supernatural knowl­
edge.
Positive and speculative theology could never be assigned the function
of a philosophy of revelation in an orthodox Catholic method. But this
was precisely what Hermes and Gunther did and the Tubingen theolo­
gians did in their theological methods.
If positive and speculative theol­
ogy were not intrinsically different in their intellectual operations from
a philosophy of revelation, that must imply that either natural reason's
legitimate autonomy had been compromised by a traditionalist fideism
or
that the gratuity and irreducible distinctiveness of supernatural knowl­
edge had been compromised by a semirationalist exaggeration
of natural
reason's power to penetrate the intelligibility
of the Christian mysteries.
Thus Kleutgen's theology
of grace and nature determined his Thomist
theology
of faith and reason. Both of these in turn demanded an Aris­
totelian metaphysics
of substance and accident, faculty, habit, and act. An
Aristotelian metaphysics of man and being required an Aristotelian the­
ory of knowledge to ground it. An Aristotelian theory
of knowledge led
in turn to an Aristotelian theory of metaphysical science. And this, com­
bined with a Thomistic metaphysics
of grace and nature, led to Kleut­
gen's Aristotelian conception of an Aristotelian science
of theology to
which an Aristotelian science of philosophy was subordinated. Apologet­
ics was a scientific propaedeutic to theology, independent of faith in the
character
of its natural intellectual operations. Positive and speculative
theology were subsequent to faith and dependent upon the habit
of faith
for
the supernatural character of their operations
and the supernatural
character and necessity of their evidence.
Catholic theology
was the Aristotelian science of those truths which
are believed precisely in so far
as
they are believed. Its first principles
were the revealed truths of faith which must be assented to by the believ­
ing mind elevated by the supernatural habits
of grace and faith. There-

lntroductton 9
fore only a believer could be a scientific theologian. Only a believer could
think like a theologian and only a believer had access to theology's neces­
sary and certain evidence, for only the assent of faith could provide
theology's certainty based on the testimony
of the revealing God, and
only the changeless divine truth
of the revealing God could ground its
immutable necessity.
Scientific theology could link revealed first principles together in
ex­
planatory syllogisms whose conclusions would provide a deeper under­
standing of the faith. Or the theologian could establish a theologically
certain conclusion by means of a minor premise known by natural rea­
son. The positive theologian could reassemble the elements of the devel­
oped notions employed by speculative theologians and the Church's
magisterium from their dispersed and undeveloped elements in theol­
ogy's historical sources. But, as a scientific theologian, he was directed in
his historical research by the developed scholastic notions which it was
his task to "justify" historically. Scholastic speculative theology could
then relate these developed notions
to each other, draw analogies to them
from nature, and
so enable the believing Christian to deepen his interior
understanding and appreciation
of them.
Moral theology was directed to human action.
It was an Aristotelian
practical science which directed man to the attainment
of the
supernatu­
ral end of his elevated nature-union with the triune God in the beatific
vision. Moral theology was directed, however, in its reflections by scho­
lastic positive and speculative theology. For the primary subject of
Thomas' Aristotelian theology was God, the alpha and omega, God, the
creative source, the Incarnate Redeemer and the supernatural end
of
elevated human nature.
Thus Kleutgen's science
of theology was a science of individual nature
and the eternal triune God who was that nature's source and end. There
was no place in it at all for the Romantic and post-Kantian metaphysics
of community and no place at all for history and the intelligible but
nonlogical development
of thought through the changing conceptual
frameworks of suceeding historical and cultural world views.
The reason
was clear enough. Kleutgen associated traditional Catholic theology with
its
"old" scholastic method. This method, in Kleutgen's eyes, had reached
its full development in the post-Reformation scholasticism
of Cano, de
Lugo, Vasquez, and
Suarez. Once we understand that, we also under­
stand why the restoration of Thomism which Kleutgen was trying to
achieve would ultimately disappoint the hopes of the early neo-Thomists

10 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
that through it modern theology would be provided with a satisfactory
theological method. For, like Kleutgen himself, the post-Reformation
scholastics were erudite, fair-minded metaphysicians. But they could not
think historically. And
so, again like Kleutgen himself, they were un­
aware that their Aristotelian theological method could not handle his­
tory.
KLEUTGEN: THE UNcoNsciOus AuTHOR oF THOMISTIC PLuRALISM
What connection then can there be between the developed Thomism
of the New Theologians, Rahner and Lonergan, and the Thomism of
their nco-Thomistic ancestor?
In the last quarter of the twentieth cen­
tury, Thomistic theology is characterized by its historical openness, the
evolutionary character
of its thought, and its sensitivity to the plurality
of diverse cultural and conceptual frameworks. Nevertheless there is a
connection between the historical Thomism
of Rahner and Lonergan
and
the antihistorical Thomism of Joseph Kleutgen and Matteo Libera­
tore.
The connection is found in the Thomistic theory of knowledge and
tne anthropology which Kleutgen called upon to justify his Aristotelian
metaphysics of nature and supernature.
The Thomistic theory of knowl­
edge demanded a substantial union of soul and body in man.
The
Tho­
mistic intellect was always an abstractive intellect. Its concepts could
only deal with the Holy Mystery who
is the subject of Christian revela­
tion through the indirect and analogous concepts
of a judging intellect
which,
as St. Thomas said so well, knew what God was not rather than
what God was. Abstraction and analogy rather than direct and intuitive
knowledge of God distinguished the scholastic approach to God from the
approach of post-Cartesian philosophy and, despite its
rapprochement with
modern thought in the twentieth century, abstraction and analogy are
still the cognitional characteristics of Thomistic metaphysics and theol­
ogy.
In fact, the historicism and pluralism that characterize the
contempo­
rary Thomism of Rahner and Lonergan are grounded upon their abstrac­
tive theory
of knowledge and upon the analogy of being which it permits.
The distinction between the categorical universals of the conceptual
intellect and sense knowledge
of the singular on one hand and unobjec­
tive knowledge of Infinite Being on the other lies at the heart of Rahner's
philosophy of knowledge and being. Likewise the distinction between
the categorical universal and the mind's implicit grasp
of its infinite goal

Introduction 11
is the epistemological ground for the metaphysical pluralism defended by
Jean Marie LeBlond and the historical pluralism
of conceptual and
cul­
tural frameworks defended by Bernard J. F. Lonergan. The metaphysics
of abstraction through the dynamism
of the active intellect, brought back
to honor by Liberatore and Kleutgen in their controversy with
post­
Cartesian philosophy, turned out to be the necessary condition for the
evolution
of twentieth-century Thomism into a pluralistic and
histori­
cally oriented theology.
Kleutgen himself failed to exploit these possibilities
of the metaphysics
of abstraction which he and Liberatore had brought back from oblivion.
For Kleutgen himself was antisubjective and antihistorical in his
philo­
sophical approach. Reacting against the Cartesian subjective starting
point in epistemology and metaphysics, Kleutgen stressed the sensible
origin
of man's conceptual knowledge. In Kleutgen's metaphysics the
intentional forms represented in man's universal ideas were the
corre­
lates of the changeless forms in sensible things themselves. For Kleutgen
the intelligibility of being was not grounded in the intelligible motion
of
the knowing mind. Neither was it grounded in an unobjective grasp of
the moving mind's Infinite Goal. The intelligibility of being was
grounded in the contingent intelligibility
of sensible things themselves.
Thus Kleutgen unconsciously built into neo-Thomism the pluralism
which would emerge again during its twentieth-century evolution.
On
the one hand he stressed the unity of epistemology, anthropology, and
metaphysics required for a coherent defense
of
St. Thomas' theory of
abstraction. This line of thought has been the hallmark of the subjective
and historical Marechalian tradition which now is the dominant cur­
rent in Thomistic theology. But on the other hand Kleutgen stressed
with equal emphasis that the intelligibility grasped in the universal is
the intelligibility
of the sensible singular. This is the line of thought
which has characterized the Thomism
of Gilson and Maritain and the
theology
of Garrigou-Lagrange. At the time of the New Theology
con­
troversy in the middle of the twentieth century the radical opposition
between these two possible developments
of Kleutgen's neo-Thomism
flared into violent opposition. After the
New Theology controversy
Thomism could no longer be considered a unitary system
of philosophy
and theology. Kleutgen had made a great contribution to Catholic
the­
ology but it was not the contribution which he himself thought that he
had made.

12 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
PosT-KANTIAN METHoD: THE ALTERNATIVE TO THOMISM
Structuring the modern theologies of the nineteenth century which
the neo-Thomists proposed to replace was a theory of knowledge, anthro­
pology, and metaphysics that were completely different from the Aris­
totelian theory
of the neo-Thomists. This was the theory of knowledge,
anthropology, and metaphysics of the post-Kantian German idealists,
and especially
of Schelling.
Like Kant himself, the post-Kantian idealists divided the intellect into
discursive reason
(Verstand) and intuitive reason (Vernunft). Verstand was
restricted to the world
of objective phenomena. Vernunft, on the other
hand, was capable of intellectual intuition
of noumenal, or metaphysical
reality.
This intuitive grasp took place through a two-fold process. The
first stage was Vernunft's passive reception of metaphysical reality
(Giaube). The second stage was Vernunft's rigorous scientific reflection
upon intuited metaphysical reality
(Wissen). In this type of post-Kantian
metaphysics, therefore, philosophy was understood to be a science
(Wis­
senschaft) of faith (Giaube), or a science of revelation.
In post-Kantian philosophy, moreover, the Infinite Absolute
"went out
of itself" through its finite self-manifestation in the dynamic universe of
nature and spirit. Furthermore, in a manner reminiscent of Plotinus'
neo-Platonism, the world
of nature and spirit was conceived to be an
organic universe of interrelated forms
or souls. And, as in the Plotinian
universe, each natural species had its own specific
"idea" which realized
its virtualities through its embodied development
in and through the
individual members of the species.
In the same way, each natural human
community in the spiritual universe had its own specific communal idea
which achieved the perfection
of its realization through the free activity
of individual members. And, since spiritual realities were also self-con­
scious, the community's formative idea manifested itself on the level of
consciousness
as the communal spirit or Geist.
But, if the communal idea must realize its virtualities through the free
activities
of individuals, its authentic development could be frustrated
through their mistaken or malicious choices. Nevertheless,
in post-Kan­
tian philosophy, contradiction had its own dialectical intelligibility. An
idea defined itself over against its opposites. A developing idea became
what
it was by excluding what it was not. Evil and mistaken choices
raised to the level
of consciousness forms of life and types of action which
contradicted the authentic unfolding of the community's formative
idea~

Introduction 13
If then the communal idea was to attain its authentic perfection, the
community must consciously exclude them. This the community would
inevitably do, since the intelligible influence
of the community was
oper­
ative in the individual consciousness of every member of the community,
whereas ill-informed and evil choices proceeded from the unintelligible
contingency of ignorance and malice.
The community's history was
gen­
uine history, since it proceeded from the free choices of individual agents.
Nonetheless, that history had an intrinsic dialectical intelligibility be­
cause it was the communal history of the unfolding of a formative idea
which reached its own perfection through the conscious exclusion of its
opposites.
Noumenal reality manifested itself through the act
of intuitive
"faith" to the members of an organic community who could then make
explicit the ideal system of essences which constituted its intelligible
structure through its scientific reconstruction by philosophical reason.
This post-Kantian model
of
"faith" and "reason" determined the rela­
tions between revelation, apologetics, and positive and speculative the­
ology in the modern traditionalist systems which opposed themselves to
Kantian rationalism and Hegelian pantheism in the first half of the
nineteenth century. French traditionalism, the theology
of the Catholic
Tiibingen School, the metaphysical dualism of Anton Gunther, the
"ontologism" of Rosmini and Gioberti were built upon it. As a result
the nonscholastic theology
of the first half of the nineteenth century
manifested a sensitivity to the intelligibility
of history, tradition, and
community to which the Aristotelian neo-Thomists were singularly
blind.
The post-Kantian Catholic theologians also displayed an appreci­
ation of the apologetics of immanence, based
on the exigencies of the
human spirit which the Aristotelian
neo-Thomists, whose own
apolo­
getics was built upon the "objective signs" of miracle and prophecy,
deeply distrusted. Therefore the definitive victory
of the neo-Thomists
over their post-Kantian rivals in the closing quarter of the nineteenth
century resulted in a tension between Roman Thomistic theology and
subjective, historical modern thought that led to the painful confronta­
tion
of the modernist crisis, and which Maritain endeavored to resolve
through his brilliant development of the Thomism
of Cajetan and John
of St. Thomas before it broke out again in the controversy over the
New Theology a decade before the opening
of the Second Vatican
Council.

14 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
REASSESSMENT OF THE NINETEENTH-CENTURY DEBATE
The major issue between the neo-Thomists and the post-Kantian mod­
ern theologians was the ability of their respective theological methods to
handle adequately the Catholic teaching
on faith and reason, grace and
nature.
To settle that issue the neo-Thomists and their rivals had to define
the relation between revelation and philosophy, apologetics, and posi­
tive and speculative theology in their theological methods.
And, since
theological method had inevitable epistemological and metaphysical
presuppositions, the neo-Thomists and their rivals also had to define the
philosophy of knowledge, man, ~nd being which their theological meth­
odology implied.
Leo XIII's prescription
of neo-Thomism as the system to be used in the
philosophical and theological education of the Church's priests was based
on the conviction that the Thomistic metaphysics of substance and acci­
dent could preserve the necessary distinction between grace and nature
which post-Kantian metaphysics had shown itself unable to preserve, and
that Thomism's abstractive theory of knowledge avoided the confusion
between natural and supernatural knowledge of God which post-Kantian
intuitive epistemology could not avoid. Furthermore the Aristotelian
metaphysics of man and being made it easier for the Catholic theologian
to defend the essential unity
of man and to account for man's certain but
limited knowledge
of his Creator through causal arguments for God's
existence and the indirect knowledge of God's nature acquired through
the analogous concepts
of an Aristotelian abstractive intellect. Leo XIII's
commitment to Aristotelian epistemology and metaphysics in
Aeterni
Patris carried with it a parallel commitment to Aristotelian scientific
method in Catholic theology.
In the last thirty-five years Catholic theology has modified considerably
the nineteenth-century theology of grace and nature defended by the
leaders
of the neo-Thomist movement.
Since Vatican II Aristotelian the­
ological method has been abandoned by the most important theologians
among the transcendental Thomists.
In recent years theological plural­
ism has been accepted by Karl Rahner
as an unavoidable reality in
present-day theology and the hope
of imposing a single method upon the
community
of theologians is no longer entertained. The definition and
theoretical vindication
of a modern theological method has
,become a
major preoccupation of Catholic theologians.
It is not surprising then that Catholic theologians have begun to
reas~

Introduction 15
sess the significance of the debate over philosophical and theological
method which ran through nineteenth-century Catholic thought from
the beginning
of the century until Leo XIII's definitive option for
Tho­
mism in his encyclical Aeterni Patris. The doctrinal, methodological, and
philosophical issues which were raised in that debate are being reap­
praised and their significance for the contemporary debate over theologi­
cal method is receiving serious consideration. For in contemporary
Catholic theology the relationship between apologetics,
or fundamental
theology, and speculative theology
is as much an issue as it was in the
nineteenth century. And in contemporary Catholic theology the relation
between positive and speculative theology still remains a problem whose
solution demands the use
of a coherent system of epistemology and
meta­
physics.
The present volume focuses upon the two leading Jesuit neo-Thomists,
Liberatore and Kleutgen, and upon the nonscholastic theological meth­
ods which were the object of their explicit criticism. It endeavors to
recreate the nineteenth-century debate over theological method
in the
light of modern historical research and from the perspective
of the
con­
temporary debate over theological method.
From the history
of the nineteenth-century contest between the
"mod­
ern, theologians and the neo-Thomists to determine the method of Cath­
olic theology and from the concluding chapter on twentieth-century
Thomism a good deal can be learned about the doctrinal and philosophi­
cal issues which confront any theologian who addresses himself seriously
to the problem
of theological method. A fair amount can also be learned
concerning the possibilities and limitations of the two basic methods
of
nineteenth-century theology which, albeit in greatly modified form, still
influence the methods of contemporary Catholic theologians.
The
theolo­
gian who is well acquainted with the nineteenth-century debate over
theological method will come to realize that the contemporary debate is
its historical continuation.
For the contemporary debate over theological
method is simply another phase in the dialectical movement of Catholic
theology•s response to the challenge of post-Enlightenment thought from
the beginning of the nineteenth century through Vatican I,
Aeterni Patris,
the modernist crisis, between-the-wars Thomism, the New Theology
controversy, and Vatican II
up to the present.
To understand where we are in Catholic scientific theology we must
understand where we have come from and how far we have traveled
in
the course of the last two centuries. The contemporary quest for an

16 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
adequate method in Catholic theology has a history. The better that
history
is known the clearer will be the theologian's understanding of his
own discipline and his own scientific task.
The focus of this volume is
upon the nineteenth-century stage of the journey toward an adequate
theological method.
Our first chapter then will be devoted to the state of
Catholic theology at the beginning
of the nineteenth century when the
quest for a modern theological method was begun in order to meet the
challenge
of post-Enlightenment thought.

1
THE BACKGROUND OF
NINETEENTH-CENTURY THEOLOGY
In the foreword to his Histoire de Ia thtologie au xW siecle Edgar Hocedez
remarks that the most striking characteristic
of nineteenth-century
Cath­
olic theology is its unity. The tension between the natural and the super­
natural orders was the single theme which ran through the diverse
systems
of Catholic theology and served as the focus of theological
con­
troversy from the early years of the century to its conclusion. Ration­
alism, in its empirical or idealistic forms, was the only adversary outside
the Church which Catholic theologians took seriously.• Rationalism
made unaided human reason the sole norm of
truth and certitude. Thus,
since the revealed Christian mysteries are accessible only through faith,
rationalism excluded positive Christianity from the field
of serious
in­
tellectual discussion. The rationalism which all Catholic theologians
considered their common enemy was not necessarily the philosophical
rationalism of the Cartesian school. Many Catholic philosophers
in fact
considered Cartesianism
or German idealism the only sound approach to
the challenge which the empiricism
of Locke, Hume, and Condillac
pre­
sented to the Christian faith. The rationalism against which all the Catho­
lic theologians aligned themselves was the Enlightenment commitment
to pure reason on the basis of which the defenders
of
"natural religion"
in France and Germany had rejected the intellectual and moral claims
of
positive Christian revelation. Enlightenment rationalism could take the
form of Humean empiricism, Kantian critical philosophy, post-Kantian
idealism, or even an unsystematic eclecticism. Its philosophical form was
not important.
"Reason" degenerated to "rationalism" when it claimed
that its philosophical conclusions entailed either the rejection
of religious
belief
or the confinement of religious teaching within the limits of pure
17

18 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
reason. From the early years of the nineteenth century Catholic theology
took the form of a reaction against eighteenth-century rationalism.
The
common aim of Catholic theologians was to show that the negative
con­
clusions drawn by the rationalist philosophers were unwarranted and
that belief in positive Christian revelation was intellectually justified.
Catholic theologians disagreed violently, however, about the philosophi­
cal and theological method which should be used in order to achieve their
common goal.
THREE
DIVERSE REACTIONS TO RATIONALISM
The most direct way to undercut rationalism was to show that unaided
human reason
was intrinsically incapable of reaching any true or certain
conclusions about religious
or moral issues. This was the approach
adopted by the strict traditionalists. A less radical way
of refuting the
rationalists
was to adapt one of the prevailing contemporary philosophies
to Catholic apologetics and systematic theology. A nineteenth-century
Christian philosophy of this sort could then serve a double function.
On
the philosophical level it could undermine the rationalist objections
against the Christian faith. On the theological level it could provide the
philosophical framework for a modern scientific theology through which
the Christian faith and its revealed mysteries could be presented to the
educated classes in a rigorous intellectual system comparable to the sys­
tems
of Schelling and Hegel. Hermes, Gunther, the Tiibingen
theolo­
gians, and the ontologists, each in different ways, exploited the
possibilities of this approach which
was the one most favored in the first
half of the century.
A third approach was to claim that the negative conclusions which the
rationalists had reached concerning the credibility
of the Christian mys­
teries were the logical consequence of applying modern philosophy to
religion and morals. This did not mean that the rationalist conclusions
were true; it simply meant that they were consistent with their philo­
sophical starting point, principles, and method.
It certainly did not mean
that the rationalist conclusions about religion and morals were the con­
clusions to which the free working
of a properly instructed mind must
inevitably lead. Nevertheless, they were the inevitable result
of the intel­
lectual confusion which the endless series
of mutually antagonistic mod­
ern philosophies had produced in badly educated minds. None
of the
modern philosophies could provide a sound solution for the problem
of

The Background of Nineteenth-Century Theology 19
faith and reason, and any attempt to correct and adapt them in the hope
that they could do
so was doomed in advance to failure. Without excep­
tion they were all vitiated by the fundamental defect
of individualistic
rationalism. In modern philosophy reason was individual reason,
sepa­
rated from the Church's authoritative communication
of Christian
tradi­
tion. The separation of individual reason from the Church's authoritative
communication of tradition had occurred within theology at the time
of
the Protestant Reformation. Descartes had extended it to Catholic
philos­
ophy. Rationalism and skepticism were the inevitable results of modern
philosophy's separation
of itself from Catholic tradition. Therefore they
could never be overcome until philosophy had been persuaded to retrace
its steps, abandon the modern form which it had assumed with Descartes,
and rebuild itself anew in vital continuity with the sound Christian
philosophy
of the scholastic period. This would be the approach which
the partisans of the Thomistic revival would take in the latter half
of the
nineteenth century.
2 It would then become the program of a movement
which, virtually nonexistent in the first half
of the century, gained
ground rapidly at the beginning
of the second half and assumed a
domi­
nant position within Catholic theology in the closing years of the cen­
tury.
These diverse
responses to the challenge
of rationalism engendered a
prolonged controversy within Catholic theology over which
of them
should prevail.
The debate inevitably became a debate over the limits of
grace and nature. Faith and reason are natural and supernatural
knowl­
edge. The freedom of the act of faith, the distinction between natural
knowledge
of God and revealed knowledge of the Christian mysteries,
the distinction between innate awareness
of God's presence in the
think­
ing mind and the Beatific Vision, for which grace
is necessary, enter into
any Catholic theology
of faith and reason, or, in other words, of
revela­
tion and philosophical knowledge. In the nineteenth century the Catholic
Church was defining its faith against the world view
of a consciously
secular society.
The debate over faith and reason was far from being a
purely theoretical one and, since it touched
on the most sensitive and
fundamental points of Catholic theology, it
is not surprising that it
be­
came emotional and bitter.
In the embattled climate
of the nineteenth century this theological
controversy provoked a series of authoritative interventions by the Holy
See, a number of which were made after the emergence of the
neo­
Thomistic movement in the second half of the nineteenth century. Neo-

20 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
Thomism presented itself as a reaction to the failure of the earlier nine­
teenth-century theological systems to solve the problem
of faith and
reason without compromising Catholic orthodoxy.
The sharpness of the
theological polemic which it directed against the partisans
of other sys­
tems-traditionalism, ontologism, and Guntherian dualism-shaped its
own internal development.
The early neo-Thomists were above all
polemicists and they clearly and consciously defined their own position
in opposition to the rival systems which enjoyed the favor
of the nine­
teenth-century theological community.
3
Controversy has its advantages. The neo-Thomists' repudiation of
modern philosophy in all its forms obliged them to distinguish their own
epistemology carefully from the rival epistemologies
of Descartes, Hume,
Kant, Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel. Their concerted attack on the meta­
physics of Hermes, Gunther, Gioberti, and Rosmini forced them to focus
their attention on the metaphysical and anthropological implications
of
their own commitment to Aristotelian act and potency. Their campaign
against the ontologists, Gunther, and the traditionalists required them to
clarify the connection between their epistemology, metaphysics, and nat­
ural theology, on the one hand, and Catholic apologetics, on the other.
Finally, since the root of their opposition to Hermes, Gunther, and the
ontologists was their adamant rejection of modern philosophical method
in Catholic apologetics and systematic theology, the neo-Thomists were
compelled to clarify the role
of their own Aristotelian scientific method
as the unifying structure of a coherent system embracing philosophy,
apologetics, and systematic theology. Thus the requirements of their life
and death struggle with their rivals for control of Catholic theology led
to the rapid production of several neo-Thomistic masterpieces in which
the principal theses of neo-Thomistic epistemology, anthropology, and
metaphysics were exposed and their interrelation in a unified Thomistic
system
was sharply
defined." Neo-Thomistic Aristotelian scientific
method was contrasted with the philosophical methods
of Descartes,
Kant, Schelling, and Hegel, and the implications which a choice
of
method contain for apologetics, and positive and speculative theology
were clearly drawn. Thus, in the early years of the neo-Thomistic revival
the Catholic theological community was given an opportunity to contrast
neo-Thomism with the several other systems which existed in nine­
teenth-century Catholic theology and to make a judgment on the merits
of the neo-Thomistic argument that Thomism, and Thomism alone,
could do
justic~a to the demands of both faith and reason. Whether the

The Background of Nineteenth-Century Theology 21
nineteenth-century theologians were given the freedom to choose be­
tween them, however, is a very different question.
But controversy had disadvantages
as well as advantages. The passion
of the debate and the frequent recourse to ecclesiastical authority in the
course of it confirmed the scholastics in their antipathy to modern
philos­
ophy and blinded them to the real advantages which their opponents had
found in it. This antipathy and their deficient sense
of history prejudiced
the early neo-Thomists against the subjective and historical approach to
reality which a number
of their rivals had exploited in their theology
through their contact with Descartes, Kant, and post-Kantian
philoso­
phy. As a result, the Augustianian heritage in Thomism, which was
brilliantly developed in the twentieth century by Thomists in the Mare­
chalian tradition was neglected and viewed with suspicion for several
decades.
5
GALLICANISM AND
FEBRONIANISM
The debate over grace and nature had a practical as well as a theoretical
side. In its practical dimension the debate focused on the relations be­
tween Church and state, which were troubled by the conflict between the
claims
of the Church and the demands of national governments during
the ent.ire century. Theological controversy over the relations between
Church and state was more bitter in the nineteenth century than it had
been in the past but it was by no means new. In addition to the attacks
of the purely secular liberals the Roman authorities had to cope with the
political and theological resistance to papal authority which was rooted
in the Gallicanism, Febronianism, and Josephinism of the two preceding
centuries.
Gallicanism went back to the seventeenth century. Its most concise
formulation can be found in the Declaration
of the Assembly of the
Clergy
of France issued in
1682. The aristocratic Gallicanism expressed
in the four articles of the declaration restricted the primacy and jurisdic­
tion of the Roman pontiff in favor of the local bishops. The democratic
Gallicanism, proposed by Richer, syndic
of the Theological Faculty of Paris, asserted that Christ had conferred the power of jurisdiction on the
whole ecclesial assembly.
The pope and the bishops had no power of
jurisdiction directly and in their own right. They exercised their
author­
ity simply as ministers of the ecclesial assembly as agents who acted in
its name.
6

22 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
Theological Febronianism dated back to 1763. In that year, Johann von
Hontheim, coadjutor bishop of Trier, published his
De Statu Ecclesiae
praesenti et de /egitima potestate Romani
Pontificis under the pseudonym
Justus Febronius. Febronianism was a development of Richer•s demo­
cratic Gallicanism. According to Hontheim Christ gave the power of
jurisdiction to the whole ecclesial community. Nevertheless, although
individual bishops
exercised jurisdiction only by title
of usufruct, their
authority within their own dioceses was unlimited.
The primacy of the
Roman pontiff was simply a primacy of honor, and, among his fellow
bishops, the bishop
of Rome was no more than a primus inter pares. The
pope was subject to a general council and laws promulgated by him were
valid only by the consent
of the episcopacy.
Papal power extended no
further than was necessary for the pope to insure that the laws enacted
by the general councils were enforced. Papal primacy was needed only
to preserve the Church•s unity. It should not be extended any further
than
is necessary to achieve that end.
7
Febronianism provided the theoretical justification for the Austrian
model
of Church-state relations called Josephinism. In the closing
decades
of the eighteenth century Emperor Joseph II began his vigorous
campaign to subordinate the Church to the imperial throne and make the
Austrian Church
as thoroughly independent of the Holy
See as a Church
could be without ceasing to
be Catholic. The liturgy, preaching, and
catechetical instruction
of the Austrian Church and the education of the
Austrian clergy were brought under the rigid control
of the imperial
bureaucracy. Although the imperial functionaries considered themselves
worthy Catholics, they were strongly influenced by the rationalism
ofthe
Enlightenment. Josephinism had disasterous consequences for the life of
the Austrian Church.
The faith and piety of the clergy were impaired.
Preaching was reduced to moral instruction in which little reference was
made to the Christian mysteries. Religious practice declined. Neverthe­
less Josephinism remained the accepted model for the ecclesiastical policy
which the Austrian and Bavarian governments followed for a considera­
ble portion of the nineteenth century.
The Holy
See had to contend with
the Josephinist ministers and bureaucrats in the German lands,
as it had
to contend with Gallican ministers and bishops in France after the
resto­
ration of the monarchy in x815. 8
Reaction against Josephinism was a characteristic of German theology
and German church life during the nineteenth century. In the Tiibingen
school, for example, we observe a growing tendency to work free from

The Background of Nineteenth-Century Theology 23
the juridicism, moralism, and rationalism of Josephinist theology and to
establish Catholic theology on the basis of the revealed Christian myster­
ies transmitted by the living tradition of a Church animated by the Holy
Spirit.
9 In the other centers of the German Catholic revival we find a
similar emphasis on revelation, Christian piety, mystical and religious
experience. On the other hand, however, German university theology
retained from its Febronian past a definite tendency to resist papal initia·
tives in determining doctrinal matters and to preserve the legitimate
independence
of the German Church. The result was a tension between
German university theologians and the Holy
See and an increasing effort
on the part of the Roman authorities and ultramontane bishops to restrict
the independence of German theologians, especially those attached to the
faculties
of the state universities. This tension increased when, after the
revolution
of 1848, the authority of the F ebronian bureaucracy was weak·
ened, and the Holy
See and the German bishops asserted themselves
more strongly against it.
10 The neo-Thomists, who were deeply attached
to the Holy See and had close links to the Roman curia, united themselves
to the ultramontane campaign against "German" university theology in
the latter half of the nineteenth century. Scholasticism, as the enemy of
Enlightenment rationalism, would argue that it was the most effective
opponent of Enlightenment Febronianism and that its social philosophy
provided the theoretical justification for a sound policy of Church-state
relations.
11
CHURCH-STATE
TENSIONS
At the close of the eighteenth century the French Revolution shattered
the alliance that had been the foundation of the social order
in every
European country, Catholic and Protestant, for centuries.
The
Revolu­
tion that had toppled the throne in France turned against the Church as
well. The Church's property was secularized and her control over educa·
tion ended. Napoleon's Civil Constitution
of the Clergy was an aggres·
sive attempt
on the part of revolutionary France to bring the internal life
of the Church under the control of the civil government. The
revolution­
ary national state, secular in its outlook, anticlerical in its orientation, and
guided by the naturalism and rationalism
of the Enlightenment in its
cultural and political aspirations, represented a new model in
Church­
state relations quite different from the Gallican and the Febronian
models. Febronians and Gallicans considered themselves authentically

24 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
Catholic in their political thinking. They had no desire to repudiate the
alliance between the throne and the altar. They merely wished to correct
an imbalance in favor of the Holy See and restore the alliance to what
they considered was its proper form. Revolutionary France on the other
hand wanted to abolish the alliance between the throne and the altar
along with the
ancien
rlgime of which it was a part. Rationalist in their
thinking and individualistic in their social theory, the anticlerical liberals
who carried the tradition
of the Revolution into the nineteenth century
reduced religion to
a purely private concern. To their way of thinking
the Church was a private society which, like every other subordinate
society in a modern national state, must be subject to the control of the
national government.
The Church should never be accorded the status
of a supernational power with which the modern national state would
have to deal on equal terms and with which the modern state would have
to settle its differences by formal treaties
or concordats.
During the nineteenth century the Holy
See was in constant conflict
with Gallicanism and Febronianism
on one side and with revolutionary
anticlerical liberalism on the other.
The restoration of the old order after
the fall
of Napoleon failed to restore the alliance between the throne and
the altar to its prerevolutionary state.
The Church emerged from the
Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars considerably weakened in relation
to the European national governments.
The old prince-bishoprics of
Germany had gone forever. The German Catholic universities had been
suppressed when Church property was secularized at the beginning
of
the century, and the Catholic faculties of theology that remained were all
located at universities controlled by the state. Millions
of Catholic
sub­
jects formerly governed by Catholic rulers now found themselves under
the control
of
Protestant monarchs. u From 1815 to 1830 Restoration
France pursued a Gallican ecclesiastical policy with the support
of many
bishops who were still attached to the
ancien rlgime. The government of
Prussia was staunchly Protestant. The Austrian and Bavarian bureau­
crats who dealt with ecclesiastical affairs were Febronian by tradition.
And in all
of these countries a vocal and influential segment of the
bourgeoisie complained that their governments
were· overfriendly to the
Church.
The liberal bourgeoisie identified the intellectual and political
world view associated with the French Revolution with scientific
prog­
ress, political freedom, and cultural maturity. As the century progressed
political and cultural liberalism became more widespread among the
educated middle classes.
It was the driving force behind the revolutions·

The Background of Nineteenth-Century Theology 25
of 1830 and 1848, which seriously threatened the temporal power of
the papacy and the continued existence of the Papal States. In reaction
Gregory XVI and Pius IX adopted a policy of systematic opposition to
political liberalism.
The liberal war cries of cultural progress and repre­
sentative government were equated with apostacy and rebellion against
legitimate authority.
THEOLOGY AND PoLITICS
It was in Italy that the liberal and nationalistic enthusiasm generated
by the French Revolution made Church-state tensions most acute because
in Italy the pope was a secular
as well as a religious ruler. The
Papal
States were a clerical principality whose autocratic and inefficient gov­
ernment was detested by its subjects. Their clerical and authoritarian
form
of government offended the sensibilities of the Italian middle class,
which shared the attachment
of the nineteenth-century bourgeoisie to
liberty and social progress.
The continued existence of the
Papal States
stood in the way of Italy's unification as a national state. Yet neither
Gregory XVI nor Pius IX was willing to relinquish his temporal sove­
reignty nor even modify
it sufficiently to allow the papacy to assume the
new relationship to the united Italy which most Italians, even the ardent
Catholics, hoped would come into being.
The stubbornness with which
the popes clung to their temporal power thoroughly alienated the Italian
liberals and, after the revolution
of 1848, made the papal government
increasingly dependent on the hated Austrians, who occupied the north
of Italy, the decrepit Bourbon government of the two
Sicilies, and ulti­
mately upon the armed support
of Napoleon
III.U
These Church-state tensions influenced the Church's whole intellec­
tual life during the nineteenth century. Fear
of liberal revolution, espe­
cially in the
Papal States, made the Roman curia a firm supporter of
"legitimate" royal governments and an enemy of democratic popular
sovereignty. On the other hand, although the Holy See was dependent
upon Austrian support in Italy, Austrian and Bavarian Febronianism left
a great deal to be desired in respect to the religious education
of the laity
and the intellectual formation
of the clergy. To make up for its weakened
diplomatic and political position in relation to the national governments
the Holy
See began to play a more direct and aggressive role in the
political and intellectual life
of the individual national Churches than it
had played under the ancien
rtgime. In those days a wealthy and powerful

26 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
Church dominated education, and politically powerful prelates, secure in
their alliance with the throne, were an effective counterweight to papal
influence.
In accordance with this new policy, the Holy See, beginning with the
pontificate of Gregory XVI, began to play a dominant role in the internal
direction of Catholic theology through a series
of disciplinary decrees and
formal condemnations.
14 The direction of speculative theology and the
pursuit
of the Holy
See's political designs were increasingly united in the
papal response to the intellectual and political challenges to the pope's
authority during the embattled pontificate
of
Pius IX. Rome intervened
in almost every serious theological controversy during the nineteenth
century and, in almost every case, the intervention was influenced by the
Church-state tensions. Lamennais' anti-Gallicanism had a good deal to do
with his delation to Rome by a Gallican episcopate, and his espousal
of
representative government insured his condemnation by the reactionary
Gregory
XVI after the revolution of 1830. Gioberti and Rosmini were
both supporters
of Italian nationalism and their systems were hailed as
Italian philosophies. This fact helped to provoke the antipathy which the
neo-Thomists manifested toward both
of them. The Jesuit neo-Thomists
were staunch supporters
of the pope's antinationalist policy after 1848,
and, as Italian nationalists, Rosmini and Gioberti were objects of
suspi­
cion, even though Rosmini remained a devoted and saintly priest until
the day
of his death. The theological controversies that raged in Germany
during the latter half
of the nineteenth century were linked to the
strug­
gle between the Holy See and the bishops on one side and the universities
and civil authorities on the other over the intellectual formation
of the
Catholic clergy.
This active intervention by the Holy
See in the affairs of their national
Churches was encouraged by the growth
of devotion to the Holy
See
among European Catholics during the nineteenth century. For many
European Catholics the pope was the only effective leader to whom they
could
turn for direction in their fight against secularism and irreligion.
These Catholics, called
"ultramontanists" by their opponents in north·
ern Europe, promoted the growth of papal authority and influence.u
Despite the opposition
of Gallicans, Febronians, and liberals, the pope's
authority
within the Church increased progressively during the nine­
teenth century until it reached its apogee in the definition of papal pri­
macy and infallibility at Vatican I. The increase in papal prestige and
influence promoted by ultramontanist piety caused a strong reaction
from the opponents
of papal centralism inside and outside the Church.

The Background of Nineteenth-Century Theology 27
Opposition to the centralizing trend manifested itself most strongly in
the German lands where the Febronian tradition remained alive and even
orthodox theologians were disturbed by the effect on theology of discipli­
nary decrees issued by curial congregations in the highly charged politi­
cal atmosphere of
Rome. The misgivings which a number of German
bishops expressed about the advisability of defining papal infallibility
were justified when it intensified the Kulturkampf between the Prussian
government and the Catholic Church and led to the apostacy
of the
Old
Catholics.
16
The theological controversies of the nineteenth century cannot be
divorced from the Church-state tensions
of the period. The relations
between faith and reason and the relations between Church and state
after all were aspects of the one basic problem concerning the relation
between grace and nature.
The defense of papal power and the defense
of Catholic truth were associated in the minds of the early Neo-Thomists.
The protection of theology's legitimate autonomy and a proper respect
for the modern culture of the European universities were valid reasons
for the opposition which the ontologists and the German theologians
expressed to the growth of neo-Thomism and to the interference
of the
Roman curia with the orderly development of theology.
It is possible to
describe the emergence of nco-Thomistic philosophy and theology
al­
most exclusively in terms of a power struggle and treat it as a classic
exercise in ecclesiastical politics.
To do that, however, is to underestimate
the intellectual significance
of neo-Thomism as a serious philosophical
and theological option that consciously opposed itself to several other
carefully considered philosophical and theological options in the second
half of the nineteenth century and presented the philosophical and
theo­
logical evidence which justified its opposition. Neo-Thomism cannot be
properly appreciated
as a philosophical and theological method until it
is contrasted with the rival methods which it intended to replace. To do
that, however, we will have to examine more carefully the intellectual
climate in which these rival systems arose and define in more detail the
specific form in which the problem of faith and reason presented itself
to Catholic theologians in the early years
of the nineteenth century.
THE DECLINE oF
ScHOLASTICISM
By the beginning of the nineteenth century scholasticism had ceased
to be a significant force in Catholic theology. Scholasticism was still
taught faithfully in the Dominican houses
of study in Spain and in the

28 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
Kingdom of the Two Sicilies but its influence outside Dominican circles
was not widespread. Recent research has shown that the Italian Vincen­
tians had made their Collegio Alberoni at Piacenza a center of Thomistic
philosophy and theology in the middle
of the eighteenth
centuryY
Nevertheless, although this Alberonian renaissance was to play an im­
portant role in the neo-Thomist revival in later years, Alberonian Tho­
mism was practically unknown, even in Italy, in the first three decades
of the nineteenth century.
In France the turmoil of the Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars had
totally disrupted the Church's system
of clerical education. Lamennais,
whose own philosophical and theological education was sketchy and
unsystematic, lamented the lack
of adequate intellectual preparation,
which hampered the clergy
of his generation in their apostolic work. 18
Bautain, who had received a first-rate philosophical education and taught
philosophy in a Strasbourg seminary, knew very little about scholasti­
cism although in Strasbourg, unlike the rest
of France, the scholastic
tradition had preserved its influence and retained its hold upon a number
of the local clergy. 19
Even before the suppression of the Catholic universities scholasticism
had fallen upon evil days in Germany. During the eighteenth century
German scholasticism had been strongly influenced by the deductive
rationalism
of Christian
Wolff.20 Its epistemology, anthropology, and
metaphysics differed markedly from the philosophy
of Thomas'
Summa
Theologiae and indeed from the philosophy of Thomas' great sixteenth­
century commentators.
The Cartesian cogito, Cartesian innatism, and
Cartesian physics had corrupted the purity
of its Aristotelian epistemol­
ogy and metaphysics. Cartesian deductivism and Cartesian commitment
to an ideal
of mathematical certitude had distorted its philosophical
method. Deductive mathematical science had replaced Aristotelian sci­
ence
as its ideal model of philosophical method. Eighteenth-century scho­
lastic treatises no longer followed the Aristotelico-Thomistic division
of
speculative philosophy into physics, mathematics, and metaphysics that
was based on the Thomistic epistemology
of the three degrees of abstrac­
tion. They followed instead the Wolffian division
of philosophy into
ontology, cosmology, and psychology, even though the Wolffian division
of the philosophical sciences was based upon a non-Thomistic epistemol­
ogy and metaphysics and a non-Thomistic theory
of philosophical
sci­
ence.21
These changes in its epistemology, metaphysics, and understanding of

The Background of Nineteenth-Century Theology 29
scientific method shattered the unity of philosophy and theology in
eighteenth-century scholasticism. The unity between philosophy and
theology in Thomas'
Summa Theologiae depended upon his Aristotelian
division
of the philosophical sciences and his Aristotelian conception of
scientific method. Thomas' speculative theology is an Aristotelian
meta­
physical science.whose necessary first principles come from revelation
and, unlike philosophical first principles, cannot be justified by natural
reason. Aristotelian science, which rests
on the Aristotelian abstractive
theory
of knowledge and its necessary first principles derived by the
human intellect from sense experience, provides the intelligible link be­
tween philosophy and theology in Thomas'
Summa Theologiae. Revelation
provides theology's first principles.
Then a scientific speculative theology
can link the principles together and draw deductive conclusions from
them by the application
of Aristotelian logic and metaphysics to the data
of Scripture and tradition.
The rationalist scholastics of the eighteenth century no longer pos­
sessed a unified system
of philosophy and theology. Their Wolffian episte­
mology undermined the coherence
of their philosophy. Their deductive
notion
of science, based on intuitive first principles and modeled upon
the Cartesian ideal
of necessary certitude and apodictic evidence, was no
longer the notion of science upon which St. Thomas had modeled his
speculative theology.
Their misunderstanding of the central place of
Aristotelian abstraction in Thomas' division of scientific knowledge led
to an inevitable misunderstanding
of the intelligible connection between
philosophy and theology in St. Thomas' scientific exposition
of revela­
tion.
Thus, even though scholasticism managed to survive in a few scattered
places after the eighteenth century, its own internal unity had been lost
through its contamination by Wolffian Cartesianism.
It would not be­
come a coherent unified system again until after the nco-Thomistic
re­
vival.
22 Nineteenth-century scholastics therefore were not necessarily
neo-Thomists.
The difference between a traditional scholastic and a
neo­
Thomist lay precisely in the neo-Thomist commitment to Thomism as
a unified Aristotelian science comprising philosophy and theology and
built upon an Aristotelian epistemology, anthropology, and metaphysics.
The suppression of the Society of Jesus in 1773 removed the most influ­
ential supporter
of scholasticism in eighteenth-century Europe. Toward
the end of the century Joseph II suppressed the diocesan seminaries in
his empire and replaced them with theological centers in Vienna,
Prague,

30 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
Pest, Pavia, and Freiburg. The professors who taught at these centers and
their sub-branches were appointed by the state and often they were
chosen for their Febronian and rationalist tendencies. Official textbooks
were imposed which, since they had to have the approval
of the govern­
mental authorities, reflected the juridicism, moralism, and rationalism
of
the approved Josephinist theology. The Josephinist theological centers
were later accused of undermining the faith of their theological students
rather than deepening and strengthening it.
13 These accusations are due
in part to the strong reaction against Josephinist rationalism among Ger­
man theologians at the beginning
of the nineteenth century, and we
cannot forget that good and even saintly men were forced to teach under
the Josephinist system and struggle against the limitations which it im­
posed on them. Nevertheless the generation
of theologians who taught
in the German lands under Austrian control from the time
of the sup­
pression
of the
Society of Jesus until the theological revival in the early
years
of the nineteenth century had no contact with the scholastic tradi­
tion, even in its eighteenth-century Wolffian form. They were forced to
rebuild anew and to use the resources which their own education and
their cultural milieu placed at their disposal.
It was only natural therefore
that they should derive their model
of systematic theology from the great
idealist systems of the Romantic period whose creators, like themselves,
were reacting against the individualism and the rationalism
of the Ger­
man Enlightenment.
THE REsToRATION oF
CATHOLIC THEOLOGY
The first three decades of the nineteenth century were a period of
rebuilding of Catholic institutions, Catholic life and Catholic theology
after the shattering impact
of the French Revolution and the Napoleonic
Wars. Although the effect
of the Revolution upon the German Church
had been profound, the damage to its inner life and external structure had
been less severe than in Latin Europe.
As a result, the revival of Catholic
theology occurred in Germany sooner than it did in the rest
of Europe.
The first three decades of the nineteenth century were the period in
which the Romantic movement, the flowering
of post-Kantian idealism
and the inauguration of scientific historical study created a widespread
and sympathetic interest in religion in the German educated classes.
The
intellectual climate stimulated and supported creative work in theol­
ogy.24

The Background of Nineteenth-Century Theology 31
Catholic intellectuals shared in the Romantic reaction against the in­
dividualism and rationalism of the Aujklarung. An enthusiastic group of
distinguished Catholics, including Anton Gunther, gathered around St.
Clement Mary Hofbauer in Vienna. A similar group gathered around the
Princess Galitzin in Munster.
The new Catholic faculties of theology
began to assert their influence. Bonn became an important theological
center under the direction
of the pious Canon Hermes. In 1817 the
Catho­
lic faculty of theology at Ellwangen established itself beside the distin­
guished Protestant faculty of theology at the University of Ttibingen.
King Ludwig of Bavaria, a former student of the saintly Catholic theolo­
gian, Johann Michael Sailer, founded the University of Munich in 1815
and invited Schelling to join its faculty of philosophy. Here Schelling
continued to exercise the remarkable influence on Catholic theology
which he had exerted from the early years of its revival. A Catholic
faculty
of theology was established at Munich to which von Baader,
Gorres, and Dollinger were appointed and to which Mohler came to
spend the last years
of his life in 1835.
None of these philosophical and theological centers were scholastic in
their orientation, although,
as we would expect in the Romantic period,
they all displayed a friendly and respectful interest in medieval and
patristic thought. There was, however, one important center
of
tradi­
tional scholasticism in early nineteenth-century Germany. This was the
diocese of Mainz. During the Napoleonic occupation of the Rhineland
Joseph Ludwig Colmar, a former pupil
of the Jesuits, had been appointed
bishop
of Mainz with the French emperor's approval. Colmar was a
friend of Bruno Liebermann, a firm supporter
of the traditional
Stras­
bourg scholasticism. Colmar invited Liebermann to come to Mainz and
reorganize his seminary along Tridentine lines. Liebermann made Mainz
a stronghold of traditional scholasticism. 25 His own Institutiones theologicae
dogmaticae was widely used in the Catholic seminaries of Germany,
France, Belgium, America, and even Rome during the
181os. His
col­
league, Andreas Rass, who had accompanied Liebermann from Stras­
bourg to Mainz, founded the influential review Der Katholik in 1820. In the
latter half
of the nineteenth century the traditional scholastics of Mainz
would ally themselves with the neo-Thomistic attack on Hermes,
Gun­
ther, and the Catholic Tubingen School. Der Katholik and Civilta Cattolica
would become the two most powerful organs of the neo-Thomistic move­
ment. In the early years of the century, however, Mainz' influence was
limited.
The inspiration and the leadership of the neo-Thomistic revival

32 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
would come from Rome. Mainz would follow; it would not lead.
In Latin Europe the revival of Catholic theology was considerably
slower.
The French Catholic faculties of philosophy and theology were
intellectually inferior to their German counterparts.
University philoso­
phy in France was eclectic rather than systematic and,
as Bautain
dis­
covered, French philosophy was not particularly useful for Catholic
apologetics
or Catholic systematic theology. The dominant movement
among French Catholics during the restoration period was traditional­
ism, which openly professed its distrust in unaided human reason and,
with the exception
of Bautain, the French traditionalists were literary
men rather than professional philosophers
or theologians.
The reestablishment of the Society of Jesus in 1814 and the return of
the Roman College to its control in 1824 created an important center of
traditional scholastic theology in the Eternal City.
The theologians ofthe
Roman College made their presence felt throughout Europe within a
decade after the restoration of the college to Jesuit control. Philosophy
at the Roman College was eclectic not scholastic and remained
so until
the pontificate of Leo XIII. Gioberti and Rosmini could not be considered
important philosophers until the
I8Jos, and Italian neo-Thomism was not
a significant force in Catholic thought until after
r8so.
26
PROBLEMS CoNFRONTING CATHOLic THEOLOGY
The theologians of the Catholic renaissance addressed themselves to
two major tasks.
The first was the defense of the Catholic faith against
the rationalism and the religious skepticism
of the Enlightenment. The
second was the presentation of positive Christian revelation in a coher­
ent, unified system that could stand comparison with the systems
of
Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel without compromising the supernaturality
and the unique, historical character of positive Christian revelation.
The rationalists of the Enlightenment had rejected Christianity
be­
cause of its claim that it was a unique historical religion based on positive
divine revelation. Such a positive religion, the rationalists insisted, was
incompatible with "natural religion" because the intellectual principles
and moral precepts of natural religion were derived from the general
principles of unhistorical, mathematical "human reason." Hume's cri­
tique of universal ideas and Kant's restriction of theoretical reason to the
world
of appearance had shaken the foundations of the
"natural religion"
professed by the Wolffian rationalists. Nevertheless the reason which

The Background of Nineteenth-Century Theology 33
Kant supported in his defense of a "religion within the limits of pure
reason" retained many characteristics of Enlightenment reason. The
speculative reason of Kanes Critique of Pure Reason and the practical
reason
of his Critique of Practical Reason were necessary a priori unifying
functions
of human consciousness. Their unification of experience, of
necessity, always occurred in the same way. Speculative reason was the
a priori ground of the world of appearance and of the necessary laws of
its deterministic physics. Practical reason was the a priori source of the
necessary moral postulates to which every free agent must assent through
faith. These postulates must be admitted. Otherwise the moral demands
of the categorical imperative could not be integrated into the coherent
intelligible universe of necessary thought. Faith in the postulates
of prac·
tical reason was required for the coherence
of rational thought. There·
fore the refusal
of faith in the postulates of practical reason was a logical
impossibility.
Revealed religion can have no place in Kant's necessary and universal
intellectual world. Religion cannot exceed the bounds
of speculative and
practical reason. Religion's only source and justification
is found in the
moral postulates to which philosophical
"faith" must assent in order to
integrate the moral demands
of practical reason's categorical imperative
into the coherent world
of necessary and universal reason. Thus the
reason
of the Enlightenment, which dominated European philosophical
thinking in its Kantian form, presented a difficult problem
of
"faith" and
reason to Catholic philosophers and theologians. Theologians found
themselves caught between the corrosive skepticism
of English
empiri­
cism that undercut all religious faith and Kantian rationalism, which
reduced religion to philosophical moralism. Unless they wished to seek
refuge in pure fideism, Catholic theologians would have to show how
religious faith and human reason, revelation and philosophy, could be
reconciled in the believing Christian's intellectual experience.
This meant that Catholic theologians would have to show how, in the
light
of Kant's critique of human knowledge, an act of faith, in the
Catholic meaning of that term, remained possible.
The act of faith, as
Catholics understood it, was an intellectual assent to an historical word
of revelation made under the illuminating influence of grace. Far from
being imposed
as a demand of logical necessity, the act of faith was free.
Furthermore, since the act
of faith was supernatural in character, its
refusal could not entail an implicit denial
of the intrinsic intelligibility
of the physical or the moral order. In other words, the Catholic theolo-

34 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
gian who set out to defend the possibility of the act of Christian faith
against the objections raised by Kant's critique
of knowledge would have
to vindicate its status
as an authentic and distinctive act of intellectual
cognition which could neither be invalidated by Kant's critical philoso­
phy nor equated with an act
of purely philosophical reasoning.
The second problem that challenged Catholic theologians was how to
show that positive Christian revelation could enter into a rigorous
ex­
planatory system without compromising its historical and supernatural
character. This problem was not the Kantian problem concerning the
cooperation
of faith and reason in making the original assent of Christian
faith.
It was rather the problem of the cooperation of faith and reason in
acquiring a scientific understanding
of the historical data of Christian
revelation by means
of a systematic theology. It was, in other words, the
problem of relating tradition and positive historical theology to
specula·
tive theology. This is the basic problem that challenges every theologian
who believes that a single speculative system, embracing all theology,
is
possible. For the German theologians, who were challenged by the great
speculative systems
of the German idealists, it was the theological
prob­
lem par excellence. The first problem was primarily a problem for apologet·
ics and the theology of the act of faith. The second problem was a
problem about the nature and method
of scientific theology, the fides
quaerens intellectum of the Augustinian and Anselmian tradition. In the
land
of Hegel it became the problem of how a speculative system of
positive Christian revelation was possible. Hegel himself did not believe
that such
a system was possible. To enter into a speculative system,
positive revelation must be "sublated" and absorbed into the higher syn­
thesis of philosophy. You could have either positive revelation or system·
atic knowledge, since religion and philosophy operated upon different
levels
of intellectual consciousness. But you could not have both
simul­
taneously. That would involve a contradiction. All through the nine­
teenth century Catholic theologians would be trying to show that Hegel
was wrong and that a synthesis
of positive revelation and speculative
thought was possible.
In the first half of the century Catholic theologians
would attempt to effect the synthesis on the basis of post-Kantian
scien·
tific method. In the second half, under the influence of the neo-Thomists,
they would revert to the Aristotelian scientific method
of St. Thomas.
Faith and Kantian reason, the tradition of positive Christian revelation
and Hegelian speculative system: these were the antitheses which the
philosophers and theologians of the Catholic revival had to try to
recon·

The Background of Nineteenth-Century Theology 35
cile. They could reject Kantian reason and speculative system and reduce
Christianity to faith, revelation, and historical tradition. At times some
of the extreme traditionalists seemed almost willing to opt for that
ap­
proach. They could attempt to show that the act of Christian faith was
really not incompatible with Kantian critical reason. This,
in its main
lines, was the thrust
of Hermes' apologetics and positive theology.
Or
they could attempt to reconcile revelation and faith with philosophical
system in such a way that Christian philosophy became in essence a
"philosophy of revelation," which was the antithesis of Hegel's rational­
istic speculative system. This, in principle, was the program of the mod­
erate traditionalists, whose greatest representatives in the 183os were
Bautain in France and the theologians of the Catholic Tiibingen School
in Germany. And, despite the accusation
of semirationalism leveled
against him by his
neo-Thomistic critics, it was also the program of the
Viennese theologian, Anton Gunther.
In the following chapters we will
see how the French
traditional­
ists, Hermes, and the Tiibingen theologians attempted to meet the
challenge
of reconciling faith and reason through the use of their
modern nineteenth-century theological methods.
The neo-Thomists
criticized each
of these methods. Each one of them, according to the
pioneers of the neo-Thomistic movement, had proved itself incapable
of reconciling faith and reason in an adequate and orthodox
specula­
tive system. Furthermore the neo-Thomists presented their critique of
the modern nineteenth-century theological methods not simply to jus­
tify the skeptical attitude toward the new systems adopted by the tra­
ditional scholastics of the Roman College, but to argue that the
confusion produced in Catholic thought by the plurality of the mod­
ern systems was clear evidence of the need for a single unified system
in Catholic philosophy and theology. Furthermore the inadequacy of
all the modern systems, which the neo-Thomists claimed that they
had established, was an irrefutable argument that only one system
of Catholic theology was possible. This system was neo-Thomism. The
inadequacies of the modern methods were due to their dependence
upon a post-Kantian scientific method which rested upon a defective
epistemology and metaphysics.
The adequacy of the scholastic
Aris­
totelian scientific method was vindicated by the sound epistemology,
anthropology, and metaphysics
of the Angelic Doctor which the
post­
Kantian philosophers and theologians had discarded.
In the early years of the nineteenth century the traditionalist form
of

36 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
the Romantic reaction against Enlightenment rationalism was the lead­
ing movement in the Catholic philosophy and theology
of the French
restoration period. In our second chapter we will give a brief sketch
of
French traditionalism, paying particular attention to the Christian phi­
losophy
of its greatest theological representative, Louis Bautain.

2
FRENCH TRADITIONALISM
The core of the traditionalism associated with the names of Joseph de
Maistre, Louis de Bonald, and F~licit~ de Lamennais can be expressed in
three fundamental theses. Individual human reason, when left to itself,
is incapable
of reaching any certain knowledge concerning moral or
religious matters. Thus the moral and religious truths which the human
race actually possesses have not been acquired by the use
of unaided
individual reason.
On the contrary, they were communicated to the
human race by a special act
of divine revelation. Tradition infallibly
transmits the content
of this primitive divine revelation to succeeding
generations. Consequently the common consent
of the human race to
these basic moral and religious truths, which is explained by their trans­
mission to each succeeding generation through tradition,
is the criterion
of certitude in religious and moral matters. 1
JosEPH DE
MAISTRE
De Maistre was the first of the French traditionalists. He was neither
a philosopher nor a theologian by profession. He was a diplomat and a
man
of the world whose literary ability made him a persuasive apologist. 2
De Maistre was a fervent royalist with a passionate hatred of the French
Revolution.
He was also an ardent Catholic who was utterly convinced
that a renewed alliance between the throne and the altar provided the
only hope
of restoring the social order which the Revolution had shat­
tered. Nothing else could reestablish the cohesive unity of culture, reli­
gion, and authority required for the existence
of a healthy and stable
society.
3
De Maistre's traditionalism reflects the reaction against the mechanism
37

38 Nineteenth-Century Scholasticism
and individualism of the Enlightenment that is characteristic of the Ro­
mantic period. Human reason as we find it in the real world, de Maistre
argues,
is the socialized reason of concrete historical man. It is not the
abstract, individual reason idolized by the Englightenment philosophers.
In the concrete historical order, human reason
is incapable of reaching
religious
or moral truth if it is left to its own devices. Individual men can
only discover religious and moral truth through the help
of the society
in which they live. Concrete society forms each individual mind through
its language and its cultural institutions. Language can only be learned
through its communication by another intelligent being, and, until it has
been formed
by language, the concrete human mind is incapable of reli­
gious, moral,
or social thought.
4
De Maistre's model of society is the Romantic, organic model. The
individualistic, mechanistic model of society proposed by the Enlighten­
ment philosophers is not the society in which man actually lives. There
is no such thing as an isolated, individual "human reason" whose thought
is independent of its inherited historical language, social forms, and
cultural institutions. Individual minds do not form society. Society forms
individual minds. Neither can there
be such a thing in reality as a
"sepa­
rated" human reason that can philosophize with no regard to revealed
religion. Organized society could never have been formed unless God
first revealed to primitive man the fundamental religious and moral prin­
ciples on which all society must rest. No society could endure unless
God's primitive revelation was transmitted to its members by tradition.
For just as unaided human reason is incapable of discovering the basic
moral principles on which society's existence depends, human reason
is
unable to preserve its knowledge of them by its own unaided power.
Divine revelation, transmitted through tradition,
is the indispensable
foundation
of organized society. Individual reason does not create reli­
gion.
On the contrary, revealed religion, transmitted by tradition to
human society, creates individual reason.
It was inevitable therefore that
once the
"separated" individualistic reason of the Enlightenment had cut
itself off from the influence of revealed religion, its erroneous philosophy
would lead to the social chaos of the French Revolution. 5
In the spirit of the Romantic period, de Maistre attacked the empiri­
cism and mechanism
of Enlightenment philosophy. His Examen de
Ia
philosophie de Bacon severely criticizes the English philosopher for aban­
doning final causes in his philosophical explanation of world events.
Bacon's empiricism encouraged the Enlightenment thinkers to ignore
divine providence and to reduce the events
of natural and human history

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CHAPTER XVII
FRIENDLY ADVICE
It seemed to Abner that all his friends had forsaken him. He paced
up and down the room outside his cell most of the evening. The
chauffeur was asleep, and his deep breathing was the only sound
which broke the intense stillness which prevailed. The nap he had
taken that afternoon drove all sleep from Abner's eyes. In fact, he
could not have slept, anyway, as the story the chauffeur had told
gave him food for much thought. So Rackshaw was at the bottom of
it all, he mused. He had surmised as much, but he had no means of
proving it until he had heard it from the lips of the wild-eyed youth.
Perhaps the lawyer was responsible, too, for the article in The Live
Wire. How could the editor have obtained the information unless
someone had communicated with him? The police, of course, could
have done so, but they would not have twisted the story beyond all
semblance of reality. He felt that Joe Preston was guilty, and
deserved all that he had received. But was Rackshaw in league with
him?
He was lost in such thoughts when he heard the jailor's
approaching footsteps. The man was coming, no doubt, to lock him
in his cell for the night. The thought of being confined in that narrow
stuffy place for long hours angered him, so when he heard the key
rattle in the lock he was in a most dangerous frame of mind.
Accustomed as he was from childhood to unbounded freedom, and

an abundance of fresh air, this close confinement in such poorly-
ventilated quarters was most galling. He had started to walk back to
the other end of the room as the key turned in the lock. He could
hardly trust himself then, and he needed a few seconds to calm his
feelings.
As the door swung open the jailor called to him, and demanded
why he was running away. Fiercely Abner wheeled around, but the
words of wrath which were glowing hot on his tongue suddenly
cooled when he beheld Zeb Burns standing before him. For an
instant he stood as if he had seen an apparition, staring hard at his
neighbor. Zeb saw the look of astonishment, and the faint semblance
of a smile lurked about the corners of his mouth.
"What's the matter, Abner?" he asked. "Ye look scared."
"So I am."
"What about?"
"You."
"Me! Why are you scared about me?"
"What have ye been doin', Zeb?"
"Doin'! What de ye mean?"
"But why are ye here? Have they got you, too?"
"Ho, ho, I see," and Burns laughed outright. "Ye think that
because you're in the Klink everybody else is headin' the same way.
But I guess there are a few sensible people left yit in the world,
which is a mighty lucky thing."
"An' they're not goin' to lock you up too?" Abner asked in
surprise. "Ye haven't been beatin' anybody up, eh?"
"Certainly not. What's the matter with ye, anyway, Abner? I'm
here to take you out of this hole, so git a hustle on an' come with

me at once. There now, never mind talkin'," he added. "We've got
lots of time fer that later. I want to git away."
Like a child Abner followed Zeb out of the jail, and not until they
had reached the street did he open his lips. Then he stopped, looked
around, and drew in a long, deep breath of fresh air.
"My, that feels good!" he exclaimed. "The Lord never meant a
man to be shut up in a place like that."
"I know he didn't," Zeb replied. "Neither did He intend that a
man in his common sense should act the fool."
"De ye think I have?" Abner demanded.
"It looks very much like it. But, let's hurry up. I guess the judge
will settle whether you are a fool or a lunatic, so it's no use fer us to
spend our time arguin' about it."
"Where are ye goin'?" Abner asked.
"Home, of course. Where else would we go?"
"Did ye walk to town, Zeb?"
"Sure; I've no other means of conveyance, have I?"
"An' ye're goin' to walk home?"
"Guess so from present appearance."
"But Jerry's here," Abner explained. "Sam must know where he
is."
"That's good. We'll hustle there at once an' git the old nag."
They moved rapidly along the street leading to the railway
station. This route led them by Rackshaw's office, and as they were
about to pass they glanced in at the open door. The sight which met
their eyes filled them with astonishment, causing them to stop and
look into the room. To Zeb the scene of chaos was puzzling, but
Abner surmised the cause in an instant. His face brightened, and his

mouth expanded into a grin when he saw Whittles upon the floor
and the lawyer standing before the box.
"Evenin', gentlemen," he accosted, "an' may the Lord fergive me
fer miscallin' yez. Havin' a pink tea, eh?"
Rackshaw stood staring at Abner as if he could not believe his
eyes.
"Good Lord!" he ejaculated. "Are you that devil, Andrews, or his
ghost? I thought you were in jail."
"H'm," Abner sniffed. "I'm St. Peter now. This is me angel in the
shape of Zeb Burns, who came to-night an' brought me out of
prison. Look's to me as if you an' Hen have been holdin' a prayer
meetin'. Guess ye'r prayers must have been answered, fer here I
be."
"You're no saint," Rackshaw roared. "You're Beelzebub, the
prince of devils; that's who you are. What did you mean by sending
me those rats?"
"Rats!" and again Abner grinned. "Oh, I see," and his eyes
surveyed the room. "Country rats, eh?"
"Indeed, they were," was the emphatic reply. "And look what
they've done to my office. You'll have a nice sum to pay for all this
damage."
"Me! Me pay?"
"Yes, you I mean!" the lawyer yelled, now fairly beside himself.
"You are the cause of all this, an' I'll skin you alive, see if I don't,
you miserable devil."
The grin vanished from Abner's face, his form suddenly
straightened, and his eyes blazed. Walking slowly across the room,
he stood before the angry lawyer.

"Jist say them words agin," he warned, in that drawling tone
which betokened danger. "If ye're thinkin' of skinnin' me alive, as no
doubt ye'll try to do, I might as well have my full satisfaction now.
I'm in deep water as it is over Joe Preston, an' I feel jist in the mood
to have another scalp scored to my credit. Another skunk like you
won't make much difference, so jist say them words agin, will ye?"
Rackshaw was in a trap and knew it. His body shook and his
eyes blazed fire. But he was an arrant coward, and the huge form
bulked very large before him just then. He knew that Abner would
not hesitate to deal with him as he had with Joe Preston, and he did
not relish the thought of going to the hospital for repairs. As the two
men thus faced each other, Zeb approached and laid a firm hand
upon Abner's arm.
"Come along out of this," he commanded. "You're in enough
trouble now. Don't be a fool. I'm losin' faith in this ancestor business
of yours. St. Peter never acted like you're actin' to-night."
For an instant only Abner hesitated. He did long to give the
lawyer something that was coming to him. But he knew that Zeb
was right, and he followed him to the door. He couldn't refrain,
however, from giving a parting shot ere he left.
"Don't fergit, Rackshaw," he reminded, "that country rats are
not to be fooled with, no matter whether they walk on four legs or
two. Keep ye'r city rats where they belong, and let them mind their
own bizn'ess, an' ye'll have no trouble with country rats."
"Fer heaven's sake, hold ye'r tongue, an' come along," Zeb
ordered. "I'm sick an' tired of all this confounded fuss."
"But would ye put up with sass from a thing like that?" Abner
asked. "I wish I had punched his head."

"It's lucky ye didn't."
"Why?"
"You ought to know as well as I do. What kin you do aginst a
lawyer? He'll make it hot fer you as it is. I don't know what's comin'
over ye, Abner. I always knew that you were a queer critter, but I
thought ye had some brains left."
For a wonder Abner made no reply, but walked along silently
until the station house was reached. It was locked, and Sam was
nowhere to be found. Upon enquiry from a man who was standing
upon the platform, they learned that the agent had gone to a party
out in the country, and had taken Jerry with him.
"Confound that feller!" Abner growled. "What right has he to run
off with my hoss, I'd like to know?"
"He looked after him, though, when you were in the pen, didn't
he?" Zeb queried.
"Sure, sure he did, an' I s'pose I must fergive him."
"Now you're beginnin' to talk like a reasonable man, Abner. It's
the first sensible thing I've heard ye say to-night. But we've got to
git home, so I guess there's nothin' else to do but to foot it. What de
ye say?"
"I'm game, so let's git on."
They made their way through the town, and when they were at
last out into the country, they filled and lighted their pipes as they
trudged along. So far little had been said, but the soothing effect of
the tobacco seemed to make them more communicable, and they
discussed the affairs of the evening. Abner was unusually fierce in
his denunciation of everything in general. He believed that he had
been unjustly treated, and he longed for suitable retaliation. Zeb

listened to him for some time without arguing. He knew that Abner
must unburden his soul before he could feel better. At length,
however, he stopped and laid his hand upon his companion's sleeve.
"Look here, Abner," he solemnly began, "I don't like ye to talk
that way. It doesn't do any good."
"But it does me a lot of good to blow off steam," Abner
retorted.
"Yes, mebbe it does. But remember, there's a great difference
between blowin' off steam and bustin' ye'r biler, an' that's what
you're in danger of doin'."
"But de ye think I'm goin' to put up with a hull bunch of rogues
who are tryin' to down me?"
"An' ye'r helpin' them with ye'r actions, ain't ye?"
"What else am I to do? They'll walk over me rough shod if I
don't put up a fight. If ye run away from a little snappin' cur he'll run
after ye, an' bite ye'r heels, an' bark like mad. But turn around, face
the critter, an' give it a good kick, an' then ye'll see how it'll scoot
away with its tail between its legs."
"But suppose it isn't a cur, Abner, but a big bulldog, what then?"
"Why, I'd use a stick, or mebbe somethin' else."
"Yes, that's jist it. You'd do somethin' that ye'd regret all ye're
life. Now, look here. You've got to stop all this. What you need is a
change of heart."
"Change of heart!" Abner repeated. "Good Lord, what de ye
mean by that? Ye haven't been attendin' a revival meetin', have ye,
Zeb?"
"No, I haven't, an' don't intend to. But common sense tells me
that a man won't accomplish much in this world when he is always

rubbin' people the wrong way. Even a cat won't stand it fer long."
"The way I rubbed Rackshaw, Ikey Dimock an' Joe Preston,
eh?" Abner asked.
"That's what I mean. It makes the sparks fly, an' soon there's a
big fire which is hard to put out."
"What de ye expect me to do, then?"
"Rub people the other way, fer instance, and see how it'll work."
"Ho, ho," and Abner laughed outright. "Imagine me rubbin' Ikey
Dimock an' Rackshaw, an' pattin' 'em on the back an' callin' 'em 'me
dear friends.' No, I guess I'm too old a bird fer that. Never had the
trainin', ye see. Anyway, it's no use now; it's too late. Everybody's
dead set aginst me, an' is tryin' to do me."
"Everybody is not, Abner. I'm not, anyway, or else I wouldn't
have taken all the trouble to walk to town to git ye out of jail."
"Sure, sure, I know you'd stand by me, Zeb. But, say, how did
ye do it?"
"Do what?"
"Git me out of jail, of course."
"Oh, bailed ye out, that was all."
"But where did ye git the money?"
"Never mind where I got it. That's my own business, so don't
say anythin' more about it."
Abner was silent for a few minutes as he plodded along.
"Say," he presently began, "does Tildy an' the gals know about
this?"
"Can't say fer sure," was the reply. "But I don't believe they do.
I jist heard of it by chance, but I never said a word to ye'r folks."
"That's good of ye, Zeb." And once more Abner became silent.

The night was dark, and when the men were about a mile from
their homes it began to rain, first a gentle drizzle, then a steady
downpour. They hastened their steps, but the roads became muddy
and slippery, which made progress slow.
"Say, Zeb," Abner at length panted, "an' ye really think I need a
change of heart?"
"Don't ye think so ye'rself?" was the evasive reply. "Is this rain
softenin' ye up? It is me, at any rate, an' I'm gittin' soaked."
"But how kin I begin the change, Zeb?"
"Guess ye'll have to work out that sum ye'rself, Abner, if it's not
too hard."
"Now, that's jist the trouble. It is too hard. Ye see, me ancestors
are to blame. They were all fightin' men, an' so that spirit has come
down to me."
"H'm," Zeb sniffed. "The trouble with you is that ye've chosen
ye'r own ancestors."
"Chosen me own ancestors! How could a man do that?"
"Easy enough. Ye've got a quarrelsome spirit, Abner, an' ye
naturally choose sich dead men as suit ye. Ye kin go to the past fer
anythin', it seems t' me, jist as people go to the Bible to find what
agrees with their way of thinkin'. Now, isn't that so?"
"But what am I to do, Zeb?"
"Think of men who have followed peace instead of war; men
who have served their country an' sacrificed themselves. If ye kin do
that, perhaps ye'll git their spirit, which, in my opinion, will do ye a
great deal of good."
"Mebbe ye'r right, Zeb," Abner agreed. "But darn it all, I don't
know nuthin' about men of peace who sacrificed themselves fer

others. I've already sacrificed much fer Glucom by lookin' after Joe
Preston. If that wasn't a good deed fer the welfare of the
community, then I'd like to know what it was."
"But ye'r heart wasn't right, Abner," Zeb explained. "There was
anger there, an' when ye knocked Joe out ye never thought of the
public good, but of ye'r own personal injury. That's not the way. Git
them good ancestors to work, then ye'll know what I mean, an' ye'll
begin to rub people the right way. Life will be much more pleasant,
see if it isn't."
"Good ancestors, rubbin' people the right way," Abner muttered,
as he plodded along. "I'd like to know how to begin, skiddy-me-shins
if I wouldn't."
CHAPTER XVIII
A MOIST RECEPTION
Abner was somewhat uneasy as to the reception he would be likely
to receive at home. What would his wife say about the two waifs he
had sheltered for the night and the ruined pillow-slips? Judging from
past experiences, he felt quite sure that a lively time lay ahead of
him, and he knew that he would need the combined spirits of all his
peace-loving ancestors to aid him in keeping calm.
Thinking of such things, he walked slowly to the back door after
he had parted from Zeb at the gate. He had no idea what time of
the night it was, though he was sure that it was late, for the house
was wrapped in complete darkness. He decided to slip in unnoticed

and occupy the sofa in the kitchen for the night. And glad would he
be to rest, for he was very tired after such a trying day and his long
walk home.
Reaching the back door, he gently tried the latch, but it was
firmly secured from within. He had partly expected this, as he knew
how particular his wife was about fastening the doors before going
to bed. She had often told about a robbery which had once taken
place at a certain house because the back door had been left open.
Abner thought she might have departed from her strict rule for this
night, at least, in case of his return. It annoyed him to think how
little his absence was considered by his own family.
Failing to find an entrance here, he at once remembered the
window in the woodshed.
"Lucky fer me," he mused, "that I didn't fix that winder. That's a
time when I was right, an' I won't fergit to remind Tildy of it,
neither."
It was so dark that he made considerable noise as he walked
around the end of the woodshed. He tripped over a pail, and when
he had with difficulty recovered himself, the clothes-line, which had
been drawn taut by the rain, caught him under the chin, and gave
his head such a jerk that he was sure his neck was cracked. These
mishaps by no means sweetened his temper, but he managed to
restrain his feelings so far as speech was concerned, though, as he
afterwards expressed it, he was "bilin' within."
It took him several minutes to find the window, and this he
accomplished by feeling his way along the side of the building. When
his hands at length reached the opening, which was about up to his
shoulders, he gave a spring, caught his elbows upon the sill and

pulled himself up. This was somewhat hard to do as Abner's body
almost filled the opening. After two or three frantic wriggles he
progressed far enough to balance himself upon his stomach upon
the sill. Another wriggle and he would be through. But just at this
critical juncture there was a sudden movement within the shed, a
rush was heard, and then a flood of cold water was dashed into his
face. With a half-smothered yell of surprise Abner recoiled, and ere
he could regain himself, he lost his balance and fell sprawling upon
the ground.
For a few seconds he lay there puzzled and half dazed. What
did it all mean? he asked himself. Who could be in the woodshed at
that hour of the night? Why had the water been thrown into his
face? Then the terrible thought flashed into his mind that something
must have happened to his family, that robbers might be in control
of the house, who had committed some terrible deed. The silence of
the house lent color to this suspicion, and a wild fury filled Abner's
soul. He scrambled to his knees, then to his feet. He would teach the
villains a lesson they would not soon forget. They would not escape
his wrath, and he must be quick.
Hurrying around the building as fast as possible, he reached the
door, and was about to force it open, when the sound of splashing
water fell upon his ears, accompanied by a heavy thump upon the
floor, as if somebody had fallen. Instantly a woman's wild shriek rent
the air, mingled with children's cries of distress. Certain now that
something was seriously wrong within, Abner put his shoulder to the
door, which immediately gave way with a crash. This only tended to
cause the cries and shrieks to grow louder than ever, and Abner was
completely confused by the din. He could see nothing, and he did

not know which way to step. He felt around through the blackness,
but could touch nothing.
"Shet up ye'r yellin'," he roared, "an' tell me what's the matter."
This command had the desired effect, for the babel lessened.
"Abner, oh, Abner, is that you?" came a voice from his left,
which he recognized as belonging to his wife.
"Sure, it's me," was the reply. "What in the divil does all this
mean?"
"I thought you were a pack of robbers," Mrs. Andrews moaned.
"Get a light, quick; I'm afraid I've killed one of the boys."
As Abner turned toward the kitchen a light suddenly illumined
the darkness. Jess was coming, carrying a lamp in her hand, closely
followed by Belle. Both girls were clad in their dressing-gowns, and
their faces were white with fear.
"Daddy, daddy, what is the matter?" Jess asked.
"Look out, there, ye'll let that lamp fall," Abner warned. "Give it
to me. My, ye're tremblin' all over."
"Oh, tell me what has happened," Jess pleaded. "Is anybody
killed?"
"Sounds like somethin's dyin'," Abner replied, as he took the
lamp from the girl's trembling hand and turned the light upon the
shed. As he did so he saw a peculiar sight. Lying on the floor, with
her back to the wall, was his wife, with an expression of misery
depicted upon her face. On each side of her was a little boy,
hopelessly entangled in the bed-clothes, and with wide staring eyes,
filled with wonder and terror. Near by he saw three other little chaps
also awake, and watching all that was taking place.

"What's the meaning of this?" Abner demanded. "An' what's all
that water doin' on the floor? There's as much there as there is on
me an' down me neck."
Mrs. Andrews made no reply. She seemed to be greatly
overcome. At once Jess stooped down and put her arms around her
mother's shoulders.
"Mother dear, are you sick?" she asked. "Let me help you up.
Something dreadful must have happened. Come into the kitchen."
Breathing heavily and moaning, Mrs. Andrews was rescued from
her lowly position, assisted into the kitchen, and placed upon a chair.
"I'm afraid I'm dying," the woman moaned. "I never had such a
fright in all my life. It was worse than the auto."
"She's luney," Abner remarked. "Her brain's turned. Better git
the smellin'-salts, Jess; they'll bring her to."
"My brain's not turned," was the emphatic and unexpected
protest. "You're luney yourself, Abner Andrews, and everybody
knows it. What do you mean by prowling about the house at this
time of night, scaring people out of their wits?"
"An' what do people mean by sleepin' in the woodshed?" Abner
retorted. "How did I know ye was there with a hull bunch of kids."
"They're some of yours, though, Abner. I have as much right to
bring children into this house as you have. You needn't think that
you run this place."
Abner was about to make a strong sarcastic reply, when he
suddenly thought of his peaceful ancestors, and checked himself just
in time.
"There now, me love," he replied in his most affable manner, "I
know I don't run this place, an' never did. You run it so well, Tildy,

that I wouldn't dare to interfere."
Abner felt quite proud of this effort, and smiled broadly upon his
wife, expecting her to be astonished at these words. In this,
however, he was disappointed. Mrs. Andrews was in no mood for
soft words, and she viewed him critically from head to foot.
"Have you been drinking, Abner?" she asked. "Is that why you
are so late coming home?"
"Drinkin'! Good Lord!" Abner gasped. "What makes ye think that
I have, Tildy?"
"By the way you've acted ever since you came home. You first
tramped around the house as if you were afraid to come in, and
scared me most to death, and now you get off a whole lot of
senseless nonsense. I never heard the like of it."
"No, I guess ye ain't used to sich things, Tildy. I've been in the
habit of sayin' pretty nasty things, but I've had a change of heart, ye
see, an' that makes the difference."
"A change of heart!"
"Sure," and Abner stroked his chin and smiled.
"Have you been to a revival meeting in town?" his wife
demanded.
"No, not as bad as that. But I've had a change of heart, all
right, an' I'm havin' a wonderful experience. I see all me good
ancestors a-hoverin' over me head, smilin' an' breathin' upon me
peaceful spirits. Oh, it's great! Don't ye wish you felt like that, Tildy?
I think a new heart 'ud do you good, too."
"What I need is a new husband," was the scornful reply.
"But ye have a new husband, Tildy. He's come back to ye from
the pit of destruction. He's changed, I tell ye, an' his heart is like the

heart of a little child."
"And as simple, why don't you say? I'd like to know what's come
over you."
"An' I'd like to know what's happened to you, Tildy. Why were
ye sleepin' out in the woodshed? Were ye mournin' so much over me
that ye couldn't stay in the old bed where we've slept fer years?
Guess ye've got a warm spot in ye'r heart fer me after all, haven't
ye?"
"It wasn't for your sake I was sleeping in the woodshed," Mrs.
Andrews explained, "but to look after those children."
"Oh, I see; an' ye armed ye'rself with pails of water, eh?"
"I certainly did, as you should know."
Abner glanced down at his wet clothes and smiled.
"What happened to the other pail, Tildy?"
"I tripped over it; that's what I did."
"And landed upon the kids, ho, ho."
"Is it anything to laugh at? I might have killed the poor little
things."
"Sure, sure, ye might, Tildy. It's nuthin' to laff at, oh, no. I
shouldn't laff at anythin' like that when I've had a change of heart,
should I? De ye think me good ancestors 'ud act that way?"
While this conversation was going on, Jess and Belle were
attending to the children, soothing their fears and arranging the
disordered bed-clothes. They had overheard the animated talk,
nevertheless, and it amused them. They looked upon the whole
affair as a joke when they knew that no harm had been done. Belle,
especially, enjoyed the fun. It was the first real family scene of this
kind she had witnessed since coming to Ash Point, although Jess had

often told her that she might expect it at any time, but not to be at
all alarmed when it did happen. They came back into the kitchen
just as Abner was speaking about his peaceful ancestors.
"Don't you think you should go to bed, daddy?" Jess asked.
"That seems to me to be the best way to settle all disputes to-
night."
"Indeed, I do," Abner agreed, "'specially fer a man who wants
to imbibe the spirits of his ancestors."
"I'm still convinced that you've been imbibing Tom Grogan's
spirits," Mrs. Andrews replied. "Why, I can smell it on your breath,
can't you, Jess?"
"I guess ye'r wrong this time, Tildy. Ye've never smelled the
spirits of me ancestors, not by a jugful."
"Indeed, I haven't, and I hope to goodness I never shall," his
wife retorted. "But get away to bed, all of you."
"I'm goin' to watch them kids fer the rest of the night," Abner
announced.
"No, you're not," his wife declared. "I couldn't trust you with
them. I've undertaken the job for to-night, and I intend to carry it
through, so, away with you all, and let me get some rest."
Abner at once started off, humming as he went:
"When Bill Larkins made his money."
 
Mrs. Andrews and the girls watched him until he had disappeared.
Then they looked at one another with wondering eyes. Jess was the
first to speak.

"I'm afraid there's something wrong with daddy," she
whispered.
"I'm sure of it," her mother replied. "He's either luney, or he's
been drinking."
But Belle laughed at them.
"You needn't worry about him," she declared. "He's neither
crazy nor drunk. He has more sense left than most men. It's only his
way."
"Which way? I'd like to know," and Mrs. Andrews sighed. "He's
had so many ways since we've been married that I don't know which
way you mean."
"That may be so, Mrs. Andrews, but I believe this way is a good
one, so we must not worry."
"Let us hope so," was all that Mrs. Andrews said. Nevertheless,
she found it hard to get to sleep again, for she knew her husband
better than either of the girls.
CHAPTER XIX
JERRY, ME PARDNER
It was late when Abner awoke the next morning. This was a most
unusual thing for him, and he felt annoyed at himself as he hurriedly
dressed and hastened downstairs. The house seemed to be
deserted. He glanced at the clock, and was surprised to find that it
was a quarter to nine. His breakfast was all ready on the table, but

no one was to be seen. A copy of The Live Wire lying by his plate
arrested his attention.
"Some class to this," he remarked, half aloud, as he unfolded
the paper. "Jist like a hotel; breakfast waitin', an' the mornin' paper
right at hand. Reg'lar Waldorf-Astoria style. Hello! what in time——!"
His eyes had caught sight of the big headlines, and he saw his
own name prominently displayed along with Joe Preston's. It was a
great write-up, and Abner read it through to the bitter end. It told of
his savage attack upon the editor, how he looked and acted, and of
his arrest and confinement in jail. Then followed a description of his
life's history, which ended by saying that he had been looked upon
as dangerous for some time. It was really believed by many that,
owing to his peculiar actions, he was not altogether in his right
mind. The incident of his offering one thousand dollars toward the
Orphanage was mentioned, and how he did not have enough money
to pay even five dollars, let alone the whole amount. Not a word was
said in his favor. He was painted in the darkest colors, and it was
suggested that he should either be placed in the Asylum as a lunatic,
or in the Penitentiary as a most dangerous character.
A peculiar expression overspread Abner's face as he finished
reading. He laid the paper aside and began his breakfast. When he
was through, he filled his pipe and walked out of the house. The rain
had ceased in the night, but the air was damp and heavy. It was a
gloomy morning, and accorded perfectly with the state of his mind.
He heard the voices of the children in the barn and knew that the
girls were with them. It was the best place to play on a day such as
this. He had no mind to join them, as he wished to be alone in order
to think.

He stood for a few minutes near the woodshed, looking down
upon the river, over which drifted a heavy mist. He longed to be out
there in the Flying Scud, away from all land-lubbers. It was the life
to which he was especially fitted. Picking up his axe, which was lying
by the chopping-block, he threw it over his shoulder and walked
rapidly toward the shore. There was considerable drift-wood to be
gathered, and he generally spent wet days at this work. He needed
something to do, and in wrestling with the roots, logs, and blocks he
could give physical vent to his pent-up feelings.
His row-boat was pulled up on the beach, and his small canoe,
used for muskrat and duck shooting, was lying bottom up among the
bushes. He was tempted to launch the latter, cross to the island and
spend the day there. Any place was preferable to remaining near
home where he knew that ere long he must submit to a regular
bombardment of questions. He wondered what had become of his
wife. It was a most unusual thing for her to be absent from home at
this time of the morning. He could see the house plainly from where
he stood on the shore, and he occasionally turned and looked in that
direction. Abner was well aware that he should go to town for Jerry,
but he was in no mood for the long walk over the muddy roads. He
would need the horse for haying as soon as the weather cleared.
"Confound it all!" he growled. "I don't want to see that town
agin fer a long time. I'm sick of it. Why can't people leave me alone,
anyway? They'll all read that piece in the paper, an' they'll think I'm
the biggest villain on the face of the hull earth. I wonder how Zeb
would act if he'd been rubbed the wrong way most of his life sich as
I have. Peaceful ancestors, be blowed!"

In order to express his feelings he started to work, and every
blow of the axe was not only upon log or block, but upon his
enemies. This violent exercise did him a great deal of good, and he
mentally compared the joy of being in the fresh air with the stuffy
and unsavory jail.
After an hour of such work he felt in a better frame of mind. He
had put all of his enemies to flight and was the victor. There was joy
in the feeling, and his face wore a more benign expression when he
at length paused, seated himself upon a log, and began to re-fill his
pipe. He thus sat looking out over the water, thinking of his previous
day's experiences, and of what Zeb had to say about his peaceful
ancestors. At times he felt that his neighbor was right, but the spirits
of his war-like ancestors had been with him for so long that he found
it most difficult to rid himself of their influence.
"It's a darn hard thing to shake off old friends," he muttered.
"It's 'specially hard when ye'r in sympathy with 'em, an' want to do
jist as they did. They've stood by me fer many a year now, an' their
words an' actions have allus jibed with mine. I wonder if me
peaceful ancestors will see eye to eye with me. That's the pint Zeb
didn't take into consideration. If I've got to trim me sails to their
gentle actions I'm afraid I'll land in the lunatic asylum fer sure."
He was aroused from his meditation by a step behind him, and
looking quickly around, he saw a man approaching but a few yards
away. The presence of this stranger annoyed Abner. What right had
anyone to creep upon him that way? he asked himself.
But the visitor was by no means daunted by Abner's surly
expression. He came jauntily forward, and held out a big fat hand.

"Glad to meet you, Mr. Andrews," he accosted. "Having a quiet
time here all by yourself, I see. Beautiful spot, isn't it?"
"Is it?" Abner sullenly asked, as he viewed the man most
carefully. He did not like his looks, and he believed him to be an
agent, who wished to sell him apple-trees.
"It's the finest place I've seen in a long time," the man replied.
"And look at that wood! I suppose you get your winter's supply here.
You are fortunate. We in the city have to buy ours, while the Lord
casts yours right at your door."
"You come from the city, eh?" Abner queried.
"Oh, yes. Have lived there all my life, though I do long to spend
the rest of my days in the country, away from all bustle and
confusion, and live the quiet life."
"To pile drift-wood and do sich jobs, I s'pose?"
"Yes, that would be a pleasure. Good for the appetite."
"Think ye'd make enough to eat on this place?" Abner asked.
"I'm sure I could. Why, all you farmers have to do is to go into
the garden, for your supplies, and to the shore for your fuel, while
we in the city have to pay for such things."
Abner felt like kicking this fellow and telling him in no uncertain
language what a fool he was. But he thought of his peaceful
ancestors and so changed his mind.
"Yes, ye'r quite right, Mister," he drawled. "We do have a great
time here in the bush. Lots to eat in the summer time fer nuthin'.
An' in the winter it's jist the same. We eat icicles fer breakfast,
warmed-up snow fer dinner, an' fer supper we have a slice off one of
them cedar blocks there. Ye see, them sticks have been floatin' so
long in the river that they have a fishy smell, an' when a piece is

fried in molasses, why, ye couldn't tell it from the finest lake trout.
Did ye ever try one?"
"I certainly never did," the stranger smilingly replied. "It must
be rather hard to digest, isn't it?"
"Oh, we don't use our digesters in the winter time. We lay 'em
away in the cellar until spring. It's great how they work then, after a
good long rest."
"I see you're quite a humorist, Mr. Andrews," and again the
visitor smiled. "Life in the country is conducive to humor, I suppose?"
"Sure. It's the funniest place ye ever sot eyes on. It makes
people roarin' funny all the time. Why, when we go to the city people
jist stand and laff at us, an' the funny papers fill their pages with
humor about the doin's of the bush. Everythin' is funny here. Even
Abner Andrews is considered a humorous cuss, an' that's sayin' a
good deal."
The visitor now realized that this quaint farmer was slyly poking
fun at him, and he was anxious to change the subject.
"I've come to see you on an important matter, Mr. Andrews," he
explained, "and as I am in a hurry, I shall come to business at once.
I'm a real estate agent, with my office in the city, and I am anxious
to make some enquiries about your farm. I have come in the interest
of a man who is seeking for a suitable place to build a large summer
hotel. Now, as you have such an excellent location here, I feel that
this is just the right spot for the hotel. The view is excellent, the
river is right near for boating and bathing, and from all accounts
there are fine lakes and brooks back in the hills for trout fishing. Is
not that so?"

"Ye'r sartinly right," Abner assented. "Ye couldn't find a nicer
spot if ye hunted the hull province over."
"I'm very glad that you agree with me, Mr. Andrews," the visitor
replied, somewhat surprised as he had been warned to beware of
the farmer, as he was a most disagreeable man to deal with.
"Oh, I don't mind agreein' with sich things, Mister, 'specially so
when they're correct."
"And you think it would be an excellent place for a summer
hotel?"
"Sure, I do. Why, a man 'ud make his fortune in no time. It
wouldn't cost him nuthin' to feed the people. They'd catch all the
trout they could eat, an' when they didn't want fish they could jist
set on the grass an' feed upon the beauties of Nature. It 'ud be
cheap fer the people, too, 'cause they wouldn't have to bother with
fine clothes. When they weren't fishin' they'd be in bathin', when
they wouldn't need no clothes at all."
"Ha, ha, that certainly would be fine," the agent laughed.
"Utopia, eh?"
"I'm not," Abner declared. "Don't ye say that agin."
"Say what?" the stranger asked in surprise.
"Ask me if I'm a toper. I never got real drunk in me life. I never
took too much."
"You misunderstand me, Mr. Andrews," the agent explained,
much amused. "I didn't say 'toper,' but 'Utopia,' which means a most
delightful place, where people are all happy, and life is simple and
free."
"Oh, that's what ye mean, is it? Well, fer heaven's sake, why
didn't ye say so an' speak plain English instid of sich city jargon? I

ain't got time to waste this mornin', if you have."
"Neither have I," the agent replied, looking at his watch. "My, I
have to be in Glucom in half an hour! Look here, will you sell your
place?"
"How are ye travellin'?" Abner asked.
"By auto. It's out there on the road."
"An' ye're goin' right straight to Glucom, eh?"
"Yes, as soon as I get through with this business. Will you sell,
Mr. Andrews?"
For a few seconds Abner did not reply. He thought of his horse
in town, an' then of his peaceful ancestors. If he could rub this man
the right way, as Zeb suggested, it might save him that long walk.
"I am willing to make you a liberal offer," the agent continued.
"But I must have an answer to-day, or I shall have to choose
another locality and you would be the loser."
"I'm willin' to sell," Abner replied, as he slowly took the pipe
from his mouth and studied it very carefully.
"That's good," the agent encouraged. "Now, what's your
figure?"
"Figger! Well, I can't jist tell ye off-hand. I've got to consult me
pardner."
"Your wife, eh?"
"No she's not me pardner; she's me boss. Me pardner's in town
jist now. We work this place together ye see, so I couldn't give ye a
price without consultin' Jerry."
"And Jerry's in town, is he?"
"Sure. An' I can't do nuthin' without consultin' him."

"Suppose, then, you come along with me, and we can see
Jerry," the visitor suggested.
"Jist the thing, Mister," Abner agreed, rising to his feet and
throwing the axe over his shoulder. "I'll be with ye in a jiffy."
Abner hurried up to the house, chuckling as he went, while the
agent strolled slowly toward the road, viewing the farm as he
walked. Abner found no one in the house, and this made him
wonder. But he had no time to delay just then, so, donning his coat,
he was standing waiting as the car stopped at the gate.
It did not take long to speed into Glucom. Abner compared this
trip with the toilsome one he and Zeb had made the night before,
and he decided that he would have a car of his own when he was
able.
"Where shall we go?" the agent asked, as he swung the car into
the main street.
"To the station," Abner replied.
And to the station they sped, and when Abner stepped out he
went at once into the office. There he found Sam, who greeted him
like a long-lost brother, and offered him a chair.
"Can't set down, Sam," Abner told him. "I want Jerry; where is
he?"
"In Dingman's barn. He let me have the use of it for a few days.
You'll find Jerry all right and in good condition."
Sam was much surprised at Abner's excited manner, and he
watched him through the window as he spoke to the stranger in the
car, and then hurried up the street.
"What in time is Abner up to now, I wonder. Surely he's not
going to sell his horse."

It did not take Abner long to find Jerry, and when mounted
upon the waggon, he drove proudly back to the station to the
expectant agent.
"Look here," the agent impatiently demanded, "you have kept
me a deuce of a long time. I'm in a hurry."
"I can't help that," Abner replied, as he reined Jerry up close to
the station platform. "I didn't tell ye to wait, did I?"
"But you wanted me to wait till you had consulted with your
partner, didn't you?"
"So I did. What was I thinkin' about?"
"And you've seen him?" was the eager question.
"Sure, sure; I've seen Jerry, all right."
"Is he willing to sell?"
"Ye bet ye'r boots he is. Jerry's willin', fer he's more tired of Ash
Pint than of anythin' else. He needs more excitement than he kin
find on a farm. He wants to be near the train so's he kin hear the
en-gines holler. It allus puts new life into him."
"That's fine. I suppose you've agreed on the price?"
"Oh, yes, we agree, all right, we allus do. Never had a fallin' out
yit."
"Now, how much do you want for the place, Mr. Andrews?"
"Well, let me see," and Abner scratched his head in a thoughtful
manner. "Oh, I guess fifteen thousand'll do all right."
"Fifteen thousand!" the agent exclaimed. "Fifteen thousand for
that wretched place of yours, which is as poor as Job's turkey, so I
understand. You must be crazy, man. Your farm isn't worth more
than seven hundred dollars, and how have you the gall to value it at

fifteen thousand? You don't pay taxes on more than five hundred, do
you?"
"Mebbe I don't, Mister. But ye see there are some things ye'r
not taxed fer, an' them's the things which you an' others seem to
think very valuable. There's the situation, which is the finest in the
country, accordin' to ye'r own statement. That should be worth five
thousand; the view, fresh air, an' the boatin' an' swimmin' privileges,
another five, so that makes ten thousand. Then there's the gravel on
the place, an' I guess it's nearly all gravel, an' that's worth a great
deal fer ballast, so I understand. It alone should bring fifteen
thousand, but Jerry an' me are quite willin' to let ye have the hull
outfit fer that amount, an' throw in the situation, air, an' sich things
fer nuthin'."
The agent was angry now, and it was with considerable effort
that he controlled his temper. He knew that Abner was making fun of
him, and this nettled him exceedingly. He was, in fact, beginning to
doubt the farmer's sanity. He glanced at Jerry and then at the
waggon. In his excitement he had not thought of their presence as
unusual. Where had they come from, anyway?
"Is that your horse?" he abruptly asked.
"Guess so."
"But aren't you sure?"
"No, sir-ee, I'm not. Ye'r never sure of that hoss. He's got a
mind of his own, he has, jist like any pardner should have."
"Partner!" and the agent's eyes bulged with a new light. "Do
you mean to tell me that he's the partner you've been speakin'
about?"

"Sure; I was tellin' ye no fib. A man might have a darn sight
worse one, let me tell ye that."
"And he's Jerry?"
"Yep; that's what I call him."
This was too much for the agent. With a savage oath, he settled
himself back in his seat, and started the engine.
"Don't ye want to buy our place?" Abner asked. "We're willin' to
sell, ain't we, Jerry?"
"To h—l with your place," the agent snarled, as he started the
car. "I wouldn't do business with a fool, and that's what you are."
"Thanks fer the compliment an' fer the ride to town," Abner
replied. "If it hadn't been fer you I'd had to walk here after Jerry.
Guess it pays to rub people the right way, after all, ha, ha."
He watched the agent as he sped away. His mouth was
expanded into a grin, and his gray eyes twinkled.
"Peaceful ancestors!" he chuckled. "Whew! Guess Zeb was right
after all. It sartinly does the work. That feller's been set on by Ikey
Dimock as sure as I'm livin'. But Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint, wasn't
caught nappin', not by a jugful, skiddy-me-shins if he was. Gid-dap,
Jerry, me dear old pardner. We must git home an' face the music
there."
CHAPTER XX
UNDER SUSPICION

The kind of music that Abner expected to face when he reached
home was wanting. Instead of a severe scolding, tirades, and a
regular bombardment of embarrassing questions, he was received in
a most gracious manner. The children flocked about him as he
unhitched Jerry and put him in the stable. It was somewhat late and
dinner was over, but Mrs. Andrews had his place set and everything
hot in the oven. She even smiled as he entered the kitchen, a most
unusual thing for her. But Abner thought that she watched him
somewhat curiously and anxiously as he hung up his coat and hat.
He could also feel her eyes upon him as he washed himself and
brushed his tangled hair before the little mirror. He wondered what it
all meant, though he made no comment, but at once took his seat at
the table. After serving him, Mrs. Andrews sat down on the opposite
side of the table, another remarkable thing for her.
"How are the kids gittin' along?" Abner at length enquired, more
for something to say than anything else.
"Very well, I guess," was the somewhat absent-minded reply.
"They seem to be having a good time."
Silence then ensued after this effort to start conversation, and
Abner went on with his meal. But he was restless, and glanced
occasionally out of the window. Once he stopped and listened
intently. This Mrs. Andrews noted, and her face became grave.
"It's only the children," she explained. "The girls are playing
with them near the barn."
"Say," Abner at length remarked, "has this change-of-heart
bizness struck yez all, too?"
"Why, what do you mean?" his wife asked.

"But what has come over yez all, Tildy? This house seems
strange. I ginerally got a reg'lar dressin' down, when I came home
late fer dinner. I was so used to it that this peaceful reception is
gittin' on me nerves. I'm like Jerry, an' can't stand things when
they're too quiet."
"When did you experience a change of heart, Abner?"
"Last night when walkin' home with Zeb. He's the best hand at
that I ever come across. He kin beat Billy Sunday all to bits. He put
the punch into me, all right, an' I guess you must have got a touch
of it too, Tildy."
"Maybe I have, Abner. But, you see, I'm feeling sorry for you
after what you've gone through of late."
"An' ye don't blame me, Tildy?" Abner asked in astonishment.
"How can I? It wasn't your fault. I know you couldn't help it,
and that is what worries me. But there, never mind that now. I have
something to tell you. Abe Dugan wants to know if you will give him
a hand this afternoon with that boat he's making."
"He does, eh? Well, I like his gall. Does he think I've got nuthin'
to do?"
"But it's a dull day, Abner, and I want you to take back a pattern
I borrowed from Mrs. Dugan this morning."
"So that's where ye were, was it? I thought ye had cleared out
entirely."
"I merely ran over to get a pattern. I want to make some
trousers for the boys, and as we have had no need for such a thing I
knew that Mrs. Dugan would let me have hers. She's going to help
me with the work."

"She is? Good fer her. I didn't know that she would stoop to sich
things."
"Oh, yes, she's much interested in the boys, and is going to do
all she can. But she wants that pattern back this afternoon, and if
you won't take it, then I shall have to do so, though I have so much
cooking to do since we have all those extra mouths to feed."
"An' more grub to buy, eh? An' where's the stuff to come from
fer them pants, I'd like to know?"
"I am going to use some of your old clothes. I can make them
over. The poor little boys are almost in rags."
Abner rose from the table, filled and lighted his pipe.
"Where's that pattern?" he abruptly asked.
"So you're going, are you, Abner?"
"Sure, I am. When ye rub me the way ye have to-day, an' when
Mrs. Abe is goin' to help with them pants, I can't very well refuse to
give a hand out on that boat. My, we're all gittin' mighty holy an'
neighborly all of a sudden. Guess a change of heart must have
struck all around. I wonder if it has affected Abe. He could stand a
good dose of it."
Abner was really glad of an excuse to go to his neighbor's, as he
had not seen him for some time. The building of a boat was of
greater interest to him than splitting and piling wood down on the
shore. He would find out, too, if Abe had heard anything about his
experiences in town; how Joe Preston was getting along, and what
people were saying about the affair.
It was about three in the afternoon when he reached the Dugan
house, and he was informed by Mrs. Dugan that Abe had been

called over to Joe Sanders to see his sick horse. Abe considered
himself a specialist on animal diseases, and was much in demand.
"But you needn't mind Abe's absence," Mrs. Dugan told him.
"You know more about boats than he does, so you can go right on
with the work. The boat is there in the workshop. It is only just
started."
Abner noticed that Mrs. Dugan eyed him somewhat curiously,
although he paid little attention to it. Perhaps she had heard about
his arrest, and wished to see what a man looked like who had been
in jail. He was soon lost in the work upon the boat and forgot all
about Mrs. Dugan's close scrutiny.
The workshop was adjoining the woodshed, which led off from
the kitchen, and for an hour Abner worked away with no one to
disturb him. About four o'clock, however, women began to come into
the shop. Not all together, but one at a time. First there was Mrs.
Bennett, who was anxious, so she said, to see the building of the
boat. She asked a number of questions, and interfered with Abner.
He treated her most courteously, however, remembering his peaceful
ancestors. Then came Mrs. Hopkins. She, too, wished to see the
building of the boat, and she had much to say about the time she
used to sail on the river with her husband before they were married.
Abner breathed a sigh of relief when she left, and wondered how
many more women the house contained, and what in the world they
were doing there that afternoon. He was not left long alone,
however, for in a few minutes Miss Julia Tomkins, a maiden of
uncertain age, came out and questioned him about the orphans he
had taken into his house.

"I am so much concerned about those children," she informed
him, "that I have lain awake at nights thinking about them. And I
know others are, too, and we have met here this afternoon to make
up clothes for them."
"An' so that's what ye'r doin', eh?" Abner asked, as he paused in
the act of driving in a nail. "I was wonderin' what kind of a hen-party
Mrs. Dugan was havin' this afternoon. How many more are there of
yez?"
"There are about ten in all. It shows what an interest the
women are taking in those children."
"Ten! Good Lord!" Abner ejaculated. "It's no wonder Abe cleared
out. Are they all comin' to see me build this boat?"
"Does your head hurt you much to-day?" Miss Tomkins asked.
"Me head! Gee whiz, no! What makes ye think it does?"
"Because you look so worried."
"An' wouldn't anyone look worried with so many visitors? It's
not me head but me hands that hurt. Look at that, now," and Abner
held out his big rough left hand for inspection. "I sawed that finger
twice when Mrs. Bennett was snookin' around here, an' I hit that
thumb with the hammer when Mrs. Hopkins was gittin' on me
nerves. If any more of them hens come I don't know what will
happen. I'm feelin' rather dangerous, an' might lose me head
altogether. So it's better fer 'em to stay away."
"You poor man," Miss Tomkins sympathized. "You have been
badly treated. I shall see that you are not bothered by any more
visitors. But——" Here she hesitated.
"But what?" Abner queried.

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