3

The operation of the intellect is concerned with the meaning of terms,

propositions, and inferences. The intellect however, understands the

meaning of terms when it comprehends what anything is through its

definition. But a definition must be made by higher terms and these by

still higher, until one comes to the highest and most general, in ignorance

of which the lower cannot be defined. Unless, therefore, it is known what

is being-in-itself, the definition of no special substance can be fully

known. For can being-in-itself be known unless it be known along with its

conditions: the one, the true, the good. Since being, however, can be known

as incomplete or complete, as imperfect or perfect, as potential or actual,

as relative or absolute, as partial or total, as transient or permanent, as

dependent or independent, as mixed with non-being or as pure, as contingent

or necessary (per se), as posterior or prior, as mutable or immutable, as

simple or composite; since privations and defects can be known only through

affirmations in some positive sense, our intellect cannot reach the point

of fully understanding any of the created beings unless it be favored by

the understanding of the purest, most actual, most complete, and absolute

Being, which is simply and eternally Being, and in which are the principles

of all things in their purity. For how would the intellect know that a

being is defective and incomplete if it had no knowledge of being free from

all defect? And thus for all the aforesaid conditions.

The intellect is said to comprehend truly the meaning of propositions when

it knows with certitude that they are true. And to know this is simply to

know, since error is impossible in comprehension of this sort. For it knows

that such truth cannot be otherwise than it is. It knows, therefore, that

such truth is unchangeable. But since our mind itself is changeable, it

cannot see that truth shining forth unchangeably except by some light

shining without change in any way; and it is impossible that such a light

be a mutable creature. Therefore it knows in that light which enlighteneth

every man that cometh into this world [John, 1, 9], which is true light and

the Word which in the beginning was with God [John, 1, 1].

Our intellect perceives truly the meaning of inference when it sees that a

conclusion necessarily follows from its premises. This it sees not only in

necessary terms but also in contingent. Thus if a man is running, a man is

moving. It perceives, however, this necessary connection, not only in

things which are, but also in things which are not. Thus if a man exists,

it follows that if he is running, he is moved. And this is true even if the

man is not existing. The necessity of this mode of inference comes not from

the existence of the thing in matter, because that is contingent, nor from

its existence in the soul because then it would be a fiction if it were not

in the world of things. Therefore it comes from the archetype in eternal

art according to which things have an aptitude and a comportment toward one

another by reason of the representation of that eternal art. As Augustine

says in his "On True Religion" [Ch. 39, 72], "The light of all who reason

truly is kindled at that truth and strives to return to it." From which it

is obvious that our intellect is conjoined with that eternal truth so that

it cannot receive anything with certainty except under its guidance.

Therefore you can see the truth through yourself, the truth that teaches

you, if concupiscence and phantasms do not impede you and place themselves

like clouds between you and the rays of truth.