THE QUESTION OF INTENTION, WITH REFERENCE TO OATHS AND PROMISES
Down to the present time casuists have constantly been accused of moral recklessness in dealing with the question of intention with reference to oaths. The many points of view which oaths, and especially promises confirmed by oath, permitted, appealed to the scholastic desire of making distinctions and admitted of much logical analysis. It was sought to distinguish the interests of truth, religion, loyalty, and justice, which are all interwoven in such an oath, and the question was asked how far they belonged to the essence of the oath or were separable from it. The larger works on casmstry contain investigations into the relation of the intentio jurandi, the intentio se obligandi (ex religione, ex justitia, etc.), and the intentio implendi, which are marvels of ingenuity and almost bewilder an ordinary reader, yet are specially designed to avert all misunderstanding. The short summaries of them, however, given in compendia of casuistry, are more open to criticism; but as a rule they are unintelligible to theological students until explained by a lecturer, who is to show what they really mean.{1}
One of the most dangerous of these statements is said to be the assertion that an oath is not valid if the man taking it has an inward intention not to take an oath before God. In this way, we are told, the trustworthiness of the oath is undermined and public confidence deeply shattered; it is, therefore, a view of the sanctity of an oath as lax as it is dangerous to the state. Let us see what the opinion of the moralists really is. They teach, in the first instance, that such a fictio or simulatio is a sin of some kind because it involves a misuse of the name of God, and also a lie, because the spoken words "I swear" contradict the inward thought. Now, to commit even a venial sin is under no circumstances allowed, but absolutely forbidden. According to Catholic morals no venial sin may ever be committed, not even for the sake of the greatest advantage. There is a further consideration, however. Some one might say that horror of venial sin is proved by experience not to have nearly so great a deterrent effect as the dread of committing perjury; if, then, the moralists question the validity of an oath, when it has apparently been taken seriously, they are favouring a distortion of the truth and imperilling public confidence. In reply we may say: The same moralists consider simulatio a very grievous sin indeed, when the declaration, apparently made under oath, is false, whether it concerns an important or an unimportant matter; and they do the same whenever the declaration, even if true, is received in a court of law or in any legal matter as made upon oath.
Analogous to this want of truthful declaration in making an oath of affirmation is a defective intention of fulfilling a promissory oath. The question of the venial nature of the sin committed refers, therefore, only to the simulatio as such. It affects a statement that is true and a promise that is seriously meant, and it does so under circumstances in which neither the state nor the individual has any right to require an oath at all. As soon as there is any violation of the truth, the invocation of the name of God, made apparently in earnest, becomes, in spite of the reservation, a grievous insult to God's honour, about equivalent to perjury. Moreover, just as soon as public or private rights require a declaration to be made under oath, even a true declaration failing to be under oath is to be regarded as a grievous sin.{2}
This guards against all abuse of the principle. According to this exposition, a man with honest intentions had better take an oath seriously, for thus he is free from sin; whereas simulatio is in any case a venial sin, and in cases where an oath can legally be required it is a mortal sin. A man who intends to lie need not hope to escape grievous sin by means of simulatio; whether he is guilty of perjury in the strictest sense of the word is, after all, only a matter of words.{3}
What would our moral feeling say of the following case? A friend refuses to believe a true story that I have told him, and calls upon me to confirm it by an oath. I object, but cannot resist his importunity, and to satisfy him I repeat the words of the oath mechanically, without inwardly calling upon God as my witness, because an oath is to me something too sacred. My compliance is of course sinful, but can it be described as a grievous sin? This is precisely a case of simulatio as such, which the casuists say is a venial sin.
But why did not the moralists simply admit that an oath was really an oath, unless some external circumstances plainly showed it to be fictitious or taken in jest? This view has its supporters. The moralists did not do so, because, according to their ideas of religion and justice, they would have only injured the true character and value of an oath. They recognized the fact that an oath devoid of inward intention must still be treated as a real oath, but that an oath, unaccompanied by a serious act of the will, should be called a true oath seemed to them as inadmissible as to call a corpse a human being; the soul is wanting in both cases. It was not a lax, but rather a profound, appreciation of the dignity of an oath that caused this view to be adopted. An oath was regarded as an act of the religious life or cultus. Now it was well known that the performance of sacramental rites, though externally perfect, was null and void without the inward intention. Absence of consent in the sacrament of matrimony nullifies the mutual pledge and destroys the validity of a marriage, even though the externum forum may maintain its validity until evidence to the contrary is supplied. If in a case like this, where one human being directly confronts another, it is the interior intention that decides the question of validity, this appeared to be still more true in the case of an oath, where a human being stands up before God and invokes Him as a witness and surety. The specific character of an oath and its quasi-sacramental dignity could not, it was thought, exist if the will did not consent to this specific moral obligation.{4}
The illustration derived from matrimony leads on to judicial procedure, where the same principle of the coöperation of the will is encountered. Every contract has an inward and an outward side, the assent of the will and its outward expression. According to the fundamental principles of Roman law, both must concur if a really legal contract is to be formed. "Primarily, therefore, a real and legal meeting of the minds on both sides is requisite. Hence a simulated contract is not a real one, or at least it is not the one that apparently is concluded, although if one party alleges a simulatio that was not apparent, it could not weaken the force of an evident serious consent."{5}
Such was the opinion of the jurists, who, in accordance with the principles of right and the theory de internis non judicat praetor, were forced, more than was the case with the moralists, to lay stress upon the outward embodiment of the honest intention. By ascribing to the outward declaration the effect of a contract they are actually acknowledging that without interior assent no contract actually exists. By assuming, in the case of every apparently serious contract, that the will assents, they show how indispensable the coöperation of the will is in concluding contracts according to the idea of rights. This made it all the easier for moralists, dealing with questions of right chiefly from the standpoint of natural law and conscience, to hold fast to this principle of intention and to apply it to analogous instances.
The result of omitting essential remarks from statements made by Liguori and other moralists has been to present their teaching on the subject of oaths and contracts in a completely false and distorted light.{6} When they deny the "validity" of fictitious promises they do so on the strength of the principle that we have been considering and, as a rule, with all the reservations demanded both by a sense of justice and by regard for public security.
De Lugo raises the objection that a fictitious promise must be binding, because it would be unjust to let inward consent be absent without the knowledge of the other party concerned. He replies that it is undoubtedly unjust; but why? "Because consent is not unimportant but essential to the validity of the contract." This injustice certainly involves an obligation to make good any injury that has resulted or may result to the other party, and as a rule this can be accomplished only "by abandoning the deception and giving consent subsequently."{7}
St. Alphonsus has been much criticised on account of a brief reference to this question,{8} but he says in another place, to which he expressly alludes: "In order that human intercourse may remain duly regulated, the natural law requires for the public welfare that there should be no deception with regard to contracts, and therefore it binds those who have recourse to simulatio, in punishment for their deception, to indemnify the party deceived, exactly as if no deception had taken place."{9}
MENTAL RESERVATION AND THE DUTY OF VERACITY
The attitude of the casuists towards truthfulness requires discussion particularly with reference to mental reservation, the so-called restrictio mentalis. It cannot be denied that many mistaken, subtle, and ridiculous things have been written on this subject; many things, in fact, that we should have to consider morally doubtful if they had been intended for the general public, who would have understood these things only on their lax and gross side. I need only draw attention to a few points that ought to put us on our guard against unfair and rash judgments.
As to the charge of indifference to truth and to the interests of public confidence, we must not overlook the fact that any real weakening of confidence is disastrous, not only for the secular power, i.e., the state, but also and in a greater degree for the Church, as she is not, like the state, in a position to carry on her work by means of strong measures and vigilance. The moralists in question, when they discuss the duty of giving testimony, etc., do not distinguish spiritual and temporal tribunals; under certain circumstances they allow the kind of restrictio mentalis which they consider permissible, even in the sacrament of penance. If we accused them of indifference to truth, we should also have to conclude that they were indifferent to the order and discipline of the Church. It is no want of respect for truth and the moral order, but rather the conflict that can exist between love of truth and other important aims of public and private life, that impelled them to seek this way of escape from the difficulty. Moral philosophers have always been aware of this conflict. Plato and other ancient thinkers sanctioned certain falsehoods for the well-being of the community, and most modern writers on ethics (Schopenhauer, v. Hartmann, Paulsen, Lipps, and others) take it almost as a matter of course that the desire to secure some important advantage, affecting one's own life or that of another, justifies a "white lie." Even the Fathers of the Church before St. Augustine were not clear as to how far truthfulness was a duty. Great doctors of the Church, such as Origen, St. Hilary, St. John Chrysostom, and Cassian, regarded falsehood as permissible when used as a means of remedying or averting greater evils. St. Augustine discussed the matter in two special works; in the earlier one, de mendacio, he still was undecided, but in the later, contra mendacium, he showed from the words of Holy Scripture, from the Christian conception of God as the God of truth, and from the impossibility of assigning limits if once permission to tell lies were given, that a lie was invariably sinful, although in desperate circumstances it was excusable.{10} The esteem in which St. Augustine was held, and a perception of the fact that lying involved individuals and society in a contradiction, made the scholastics, almost without exception, maintain conscious lying to be absolutely forbidden, and this view continues to be that of most Catholic moralists.{11}
No one can help seeing that frequently there are excellent reasons, and even weighty moral considerations, necessitating a concealment of the truth, which cannot be effected by mere silence. Even a perfect Christian sometimes wishes to deceive his neighbour, although he may not tell a lie in order to do so. In such cases we are allowed to have recourse to amphibology, a statement admitting of various interpretations, and to what is called mental reservation, which limits the meaning of a statement not in itself equivocal, and has its special justification in the circumstances of the speaker. In many cases such a reservation is made obviously necessary through the intention of the person asking the question or the circumstances in which it is asked. The reservation affects the meaning rather than the letter of the question. To ward off improper questions and unseemly inquisitiveness it may be permissible to use expressions which the other will probably misunderstand, even though the surrounding circumstances ought to tell him that their literal interpretation is not applicable.
Against the lax theories of casuistic writers, condemned by Innocent XI, later authors agree in saying that the true meaning in the speaker's mind must be capable of recognition, either from the wording of his reply or from the circumstances of person and matter (restrictio non pure mentalis, restrictio realis). They do their best to prevent any one from misunderstanding them and from assuming that such reservations may be used arbitrarily, or even for bad ends; in every case there must be a just reason for concealing the truth. Reservation is absolutely prohibited where the questioner has a right to know the whole truth, as in giving evidence before a court of law, in answering parents and superiors, and in making contracts.{12}
Modern critics who do not approve of rigorism in the matter argue, in opposition to the theory just stated, that encouraging an artificial distortion of thought has a more injurious effect upon veracity than a frank sanction of a "white lie," or "a lie of necessity," and they are inclined to charge the advocates of such a theory with dishonesty and hypocrisy. These advocates have, however, serious grounds, based on reason and authority, for maintaining the absolute sinfulness of lying, and their view is confirmed by the language of the Bible and also by the modern sense of the value of words. As a practical matter, and as one affecting the care of souls, it is dangerous to tamper with the principle that lying is forbidden. We see how difficult it is for modern students of ethics to define the circumstances under which they consider lying justifiable. They would be still more embarrassed if they had to expound from the pulpit their theory of the relative permissibility of lying.{13}
It was therefore not want of frankness and honesty, but respect for the principle that the spoken word must always agree with the thought, that caused the casuists to advise men to accommodate their thoughts to their words, in cases where for weighty reasons it was imperative to give a definite answer. Such accommodations and mental additions are often a theoretical justification of the decision arrived at, rather than a suggestion really to arrive at it. The "No" given in answer to an indiscreet question is generally, from the psychological standpoint, a simple expression of refusal to give information and a means of averting the question. Any qualifying clauses that we may mentally add to the "No," such as, "as far as you are concerned," etc., correspond to the reservation of casuists.
We must notice that the liberty granted by the theory of mental reservation is limited in comparison with that afforded by the theory of "lies of necessity." Apart from the fact that, according to the former theory, the true meaning of the words must always be intelligible, in some way or other, it permits almost exclusively such negative statements only by which the truth is concealed, but not positive fictions, the fruit of a deceitful imagination.
A principle that in urgent cases it be permissible to lie intentionally and deliberately would give opportunity to both kinds of statements equally, and would actually increase a tendency to prevarication. It is easier to lie freely than carefully to weigh one's words so that they may not in any way offend against truth nor, on the other hand, reveal a truth that would injure another. The same may be said of expressions used in society. To say "the master is not at home" is not nearly so misleading as to assert that he has gone to some particular place, when he is really present. It is also easier to protect oneself with regard to the mental reservation sanctioned by casuists, provided one keeps the actual facts in view, than it would be to guard against arbitrary fictions, such as the principle of "lies of necessity" would allow.
The casuistic principle that all equivocation is forbidden in dealing with superiors and with courts of law admits of one exception. Casuists think that an evasive answer may be given in reply to questions that are not legally admissible. A judge who asks questions that he has no right to ask is, according to the casuists, acting as a private individual and not in his official capacity; if he abuses his power I may assert my personal right about expressing my thoughts. The cases discussed by the early moralists on this point generally lose their offensive character if we take into consideration the rules which the Roman procedure prescribed regarding the judge's right to question prisoners.{14}
Thus a defendant should be allowed to answer "No" if a judge asked him as to his guilt before the probatio semiplena, i.e., in an illegal manner, and also, according to some authorities, if the penalty for the offence with which he was charged was death, or at least very severe, In the former case he would be answering according to the legal meaning of the question, in the second the law asked something contrary to nature, and "No" would be intelligible to every one with any experience of life.
An eminent German lawyer wrote as follows in a newspaper discussion of the Jesuit question.{15} "This case can be judged only by one who knows the history of legal procedure. According to the modern system, no defendant is bound to acknowledge his guilt, far less to take an oath, no matter whether the offence with which he is charged involves the penalty of death or a trifling fine. To require a defendant to swear that he is innocent would be regarded nowadays as unnatural brutality and as an unheard-of constraint upon his conscience. But in the ancient system another view was taken, and this point was not clear and free from all obscurity. Students acknowledge that the way in which a judge was accustomed to extort a confession had the effect of leaving the defendant absolutely at the mercy of the court. . . . The early moralists asked themselves whether a defendant, threatened with terrible punishment, were bound to confess his guilt, and they came to the conclusion that he was not, basing their theory on the fact that the legislator had neither the right nor the intention to impose such an obligation upon him, so that he was free to give an equivocal answer. Any one may criticise this decision who wishes to do so; it has long lost all significance."
Similar historical considerations enable us to understand other replies to complicated questions. We ought to bear in mind the incredible verbosity and molestation prevailing in absolutistic government offices and police administration, and also the extremely severe punishments inflicted during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries even upon beggars, poachers, etc.{16}
One point only seems to many people dangerous under all circumstances viz., that in the casuistic sanction of mental reservation the sanctity of the oath is involved. It is evident that the early moralists, whose writings are usually quoted on this subject, were thinking, not of public oaths, but of assertions upon oath in ordinary life; and this fact explains much in the casuistic treatment of oaths. The vice of needless swearing, while at all times opposed by the Church, was plainly more prevalent in the past than it is now. In such cases the sanction of some suppression of truth did not at least endanger the public welfare. But how must it be regarded from the point of view of the religious sanctity of the oath, as an appeal to God to witness to its truth? Is it not an offence against the reverence due to God, to state on oath a truth in an obscure or easily misunderstood manner? The theologians with whom we are concerned certainly did not intend to lessen the sacred character of an oath. They stated their view consistently in giving the following answer: "The question turns upon whether the statement is true or false; there is no third alternative. If it is false, the man who solemnly swears to it commits the grievous sin of perjury; and if he does so in casual conversation, it is at least a venial sin." Now all sin, venial as well as mortal, is forbidden; a true Christian lives continuously in the presence of God and speaks and acts so that he may stand righteous in His sight. If, then, in ordinary conversation certain concealments hinted at by the words themselves, or by the circumstances under which they are uttered, cannot be termed lies, and since such mental reservations are used by almost all men without scruple to safeguard important interests, to keep matters secret, etc., when this is considered permissible and under certain circumstances even obligatory by many men of thought, it follows that the assertion upon oath may require stronger justification, but cannot make false that which is true, nor can it make something otherwise permissible sinful, since to a Godfearing man it means an intensification, not a modification, of the duty of veracity.
Even in a court of law, where the oath is required in the interests of justice and of public trust, after these interests are satisfied a mode of speech, inaccurate only in its literal interpretation, cannot be absolutely forbidden, provided that no breach of the law nor injury of any one's private rights is involved. Indeed, in many statements of witnesses and experts, in spite of the fact that they are made under oath, there is often in incidental matters, that have no direct relation to the subject in view, much that must be taken cum grano salis.
Still more obviously is this the case with promissory oaths, in which the intention ought to agree with the words as completely as, in affirmative oaths, the knowledge of the facts with the testimony. An official swears that he will perform all the duties of his office; a soldier swears that he will render military obedience. Do these oaths include every petty formality imposed by a fussy superior, every trifling regulation of the barracks? Deputies in many states swear to represent only the general welfare of their country and not that of any particular rank or class; the oath taken by those admitted to medical degrees at the University of Berlin begins (or used to begin) with the words: "I swear not to practise the art of healing for my own personal advantage, but for the glory of God, the welfare of mankind, and the advancement of science." Can it be denied that in these oaths there is considerable scope for a reasonable use of mental reservation?
Nowadays, when we hear such formulae, or read the panegyrics of a past age we feel that there is something false and hypocritical about them. We are dissatisfied with some of the decisions made by the older moralists regarding the limits of the duty of veracity. Although every such feeling may not be genuine, and although a good deal of the indignation shown is Pharisaical, we must admit that the moral sense of the better part of Christian society on the subject of truthfulness has undergone a certain change, and is now higher and more refined than it was. In former centuries enthusiasm for the eternal truths of faith and philosophy was combined with remarkable indifference to the truth in worldly affairs. The mental attitude of pious writers of legends and forgers of records in the Middle Ages is absolutely incomprehensible to us, who live in a more critical age. The exaggerated praise and condemnation brought into vogue at the Renaissance, especially among the Latin nations, ring false in the ears of sober, honest men of our day. To this must be added the many social malpractices common in those days. Dishonesty in trade and difficulty in communication arouse, as is well known, a tendency to distrust and insincerity; and where such evils are of daily occurrence they excuse, to some extent, untruthfulness in the individual, since he knows that his words will not be critically examined, but accepted in their "conventional" meaning. Although we may be glad that our judicial and social circumstances are now more favourable to veracity, we must not fail to take into account, when criticising earlier moralists, their actual surroundings, and we must also remember that their hairsplitting dissection of ideas was in practice controlled and modified by consideration for the needs of their flock. Modern writers are in the habit of reproaching the Catholic Church with not doing enough to cultivate the sense of truth, and it behooves us to refute this accusation, both because it shows their disposition to extol and misunderstand their own position, and because these writers, whilst displaying scrupulous literal accuracy in unimportant matters, do not hesitate unscrupulously to repeat old accusations against the Church and to misrepresent Catholic life and institutions.
Haeckel's clumsy attack cast a glaring light upon this kind of zeal for truth. By aiming it at Christianity and faith in God he exasperated even Protestant scholars of high reputation. We as Catholics are bound to confess that many Protestant accusations against Catholic dogmas, scholastic morals, etc., arouse in us a feeling of bewilderment. If a sense of truth is to be awakened and intensified in the people at large, especially with regard to securing the truth in legal procedure, it cannot be denied that sermons on God's omniscience and holiness, and on the judgment to come, as well as the reference to God and the blessing of the Gospel made when an oath is taken, call forth a disposition in the mind of a Christian that is a far better guarantee for his veracity than would be produced by strict principles regarding the taking of an oath in a mind which, according to the empirical morality of the day, distinguishes good and evil only by their temporal results, and which considers duty to be a product of the autonomous ego or of custom, and rewards and punishments to be mere functions of spontaneous evolution.
We must also question the right of Protestant theology to criticise the "insincerity" of Catholic morals. In his theoretical and practical attitude towards truthfulness Luther himself affords us the most serious points of attack. Apart from the reservatio mentalis, which is no stumbling block to him, he sanctions "a good thumping lie" in order to conceal unpleasant incidents which might injure "the cause of the Gospel."{17}
He advised Philip of Hesse to deny his double marriage publicly, arguing "that what is a secret 'Yes' cannot become a public 'Yes'; otherwise secret and public would be the same thing and there would be no difference between them, which neither ought to be nor can be. Therefore a secret 'Yes' must be and remain a public 'No,' and vice versa."{18} Butzer is still more emphatic in recommending the use of lies and of disgusting deception against the enemies of the Gospel, maintaining that the Bible is full of such things, and appealing to Schnepf, Brenz, and Osiander in support of his view.{19}
Even on matters of faith Luther did not shrink from doubtful "accommodations." He directed that everything in the Canon of the Mass that suggested a sacrifice should be omitted, but at the same time, in order not to enlighten the "plain man" on the subject, to retain the elevation with the ceremonies belonging to it.{20} The same Luther who had so often spoken of Mass and the invocation of saints as diabolical abominations, actually wrote in 1539 to a Pomeranian student, telling him to win over his Catholic father to the Gospel by conforming to his wishes in all religious matters, in fasting, in hearing Mass with apparent devotion, and in invoking the saints.{21}
Luther's vigorous intellect and blunt frankness did not prevent him from making totally contradictory statements regarding his religious intentions in letters written at the same time, nor from making free with quotations and opponents in his writings in a manner that is certainly not that of an honourable antagonist. Döllinger remarks that, as a polemical writer and an author of works of controversy, Luther united an undeniable talent for dialectics and rhetoric with an unscrupulosity such as has been seldom equalled by other writers.{22}
As to the Lutheran writers on moral theology in the seventeenth century, Staudlin remarks that with few exceptions they declared veracity in general to be the duty of a Christian; but that they regarded false words spoken with some good and useful aim, and tending to the advantage of one's neighbour, not as lies, but as marks of an accommodating and affable disposition. Only a lie that injured one's neighbour was considered by them immoral and contrary to the natural law. They recognized in lying no inherent immorality, independent of all external consequences and the direction of the intention, and therefore they thought it a duty to tell serviceable or necessary lies.{23} The theologians of the Reformed Church taught, on the other hand, that no lie was permissible, but that lying was a mortal sin, involving everlasting death;{24} but such extreme rigorism was no better adapted to produce a real love of truth than were the lax views just mentioned.
Modern Protestant theologians are not unanimous on the subject; many, such as Mosheim, Ammon, Marheineke, Rothe, and Herrmann, regard lying as permissible under some circumstances, especially in the interest of one's neighbour.{25} A particularly sore point in modern Protestantism is the manner in which the clergy, who do not stand upon the firm ground of orthodox faith, treat their obligation to accept the creed and to meet the rights of their congregations. We have here an obligation which, while not involving a formal oath, has the sanctity of an oath in another form. Swearing has, as a rule, to do with some statement in a matter of this world which receives religious sanction and strength by the invocation of God. But sermons are statements professing to be the word of God and made during public worship, so that they are in their very nature sacred. The cases discussed by St. Alphonsus and Gury with reference to the oath are exceptional and relate to a state of affairs either obsolete or so rare as to have practically no effect on modern life. The official oath taken by a minister of religion affects his whole activity, the management of the church, and the significance of Christianity, so that we can easily understand why the unsound relation between theology and the care of souls has been described "as the fundamentally weak spot in the present position of Protestantism."
Liberal theologians and philosophers boldly maintain that a preacher ought to be guided by the degree of education and the credulity of his congregation in speaking of the inspiration of the Bible, the Resurrection of Christ, and other Christian dogmas either as facts or as myths. Dr. Fr. Strauss writes: "The minister's duty is unquestionably to lay before the people what they themselves believe. If he shares this belief, so much the better; if he does not, he must inflict pain upon himself rather than upon his congregation."{26}
Paulsen likewise allows a preacher to adapt his views to the religious circumstances of his congregation, saying that what in a village church is accepted literally is treated as a metaphor by people of more education.{27} He admits the awkwardness of the situation and connects it with what he describes as "the widespread distrust of the clergy and their honesty."
Steudel, a liberal theologian in Württemberg, said some years ago, in one of his lectures at Stuttgart, that the Church compelled broadminded clergy to preach what was contrary to their own convictions, and that, when speaking of the Son of God, they often had in mind something quite different from the conception of their "simple congregation." A Protestant theologian, writing on the subject of Steudel's movement, said: "We certainly cannot help respecting men who have found unbearable the strained relations between their own personal convictions and the formulae of the Church to which they were bound to adhere. On a lower moral level stands a man, who, feeling the same difficulty, falls from one religious hypocrisy into another, because he thinks of his family, his office, and his means of livelihood. Mental reservation is utterly inexcusable, utterly contemptible in the case of these Protestant Jesuits." {28}
A short time before Pastor Schrempf, who had been reprimanded on account of his attitude towards the creed, pointed out that many of the clergy made mental reservations with regard to the symbolism at baptism, adding: "Reservatio mentalis becomes the more serious the higher the truth upon which it sets a new interpretation and the more solemn the occasion at which it occurs."{29} In a subsequent work Schrempf drew attention to the fact that one hundred and fifty-three of his colleagues, who had expressed the same views as his in a memorial addressed to the governing body of the Church, nevertheless were allowed to retain their benefices.{30}
I have referred to these statements and facts without any desire to cast ridicule upon men who are exposed to the powerful influence of the critical movement without having the support of a still more powerful Church attested by historical miracles. Such men are struggling in vain and wavering between negation and faith, between their personal convictions and their official duties, and we can only feel deep sympathy with them. It is, however, necessary to emphasize this sad state of affairs if we are to appreciate the behaviour of those theologians who, because of a few isolated decisions given by casuistic writers, charge the Catholic Church with insincerity and exhort her members to abandon her. It would be difficult to find a Catholic district with "a widespread distrust of the clergy and their honesty."{31}
On most of the topics that we have been discussing K. Jentsch's opinion is most interesting, since, having been formerly a Catholic, he knows the training that priests receive and what their work is, although he is now the representative of a perfectly free, subjective kind of Christianity. He writes as follows in his retrospect of the time that he spent at a seminary:
"Gury, Liguori, and the famous casuists are not intended to instruct candidates for the priesthood in morals, nor are they guides for imparting moral teaching to ordinary pcople or to the young. How the Jesuits treat morality in popular instructions can be seen in the third volume of Deharbe's explanation of the Catechism. . . . Gury and the rest are guides to priests in the exercise of their judicial functions. . . . Just as it is not enough for a judge in a civil court to know 'the great principles of law and equity,' so a priest cannot settle every question by means of 'the great principles of morality.' Both require a code of laws and its elucidation with regard to individual cases; in other words, a system of casuistry. . . . Many people have long ago discarded all idea of sin as savouring of superstition. Probably there are many generous souls, deeply rooted in God, who neither tolerate nor need any mediator between Him and themselves but Christ alone, and are at all times certain that God's will is also their will, or, what is the same thing, that their will is God's will, and who for that reason can neither err nor sin. But can all young people be so certain of their position? May not at times some of them have to ask a trustworthy older friend whether this or that is right? And is this not casuistry? Can we reconcile it with our conscience to let young people do as they like until they must be taught by a physician or perhaps a magistrate? . . . The argument that casuistry is a temptation to the priest himself is unworthy of consideration. Physicians, judges, artists, and those engaged in many other pursuits are liable to similar temptations; such things belong to their profession. Moreover, any temptation which might arise from the study of a few paragraphs in a textbook of casuistry is hardly worth mentioning. These books are studied at a time when candidates for the priesthood are, on the one hand, in a state of such mental activity, and overwhelmed with so much work, that it is impossible for unseemly thoughts to arrive. . . . If my own experience of life, if scientific and philosophical considerations and familiarity with the classics have led me subsequently to adopt opinions which a Puritan would condemn as lax and reprehensible, I am quite aware that in so doing I have not come into agreement with Jesuit morals, but into contradiction to them."{32}
{1} This remark applies to the statements in Gury's work, I, 308, 1, 2, which in their original form might give rise to misunderstanding -- later editions contain elucidations.
{2} Cf. especially Vise, Thes. damn. in prop. 25. Innoc., XI, n. 6: Sicut in idololatria . . . non datur parvitas materiae quae a mortali excusat, etiamsi desit animus internus litandi idolo . . . ita nec in periurio, etiamsi desit assimus internus iurandi. N. 7: Difficultas tamen est: An graviter etiam semper peccet, qui iurat sine animo jurandi, dum rerum jurat? Affirmat Cajetanus. Communius tamen cum Suarez, Sanchez, Lessio, Palao docent, id esse dumtaxat veniale, dummodo non fiat in contractu aut in iudicio legitimo. . . . Neque (hoc) est iniuriosum homini, qua supponimus hoc fieri extra contractum et extra iudicium legitimum et extra quemcumque casum, in quo homo damnum aliquod patiatur ex hoc ficto juramento. N. 8: Illuderet vero (Deo), si in contractibus aut in iudicio iuramentum fieret sine animo jurandi, quia ad jurandum teneretur. . . Qui vero falsum jurat sine animo jurandi, non illudit solum divinum testimonium, sed graviter etiam contemnit. Similar statements occur in Elbel, Theol. mor., III, 120, where reference is made to Babenstuber, Michel, etc.; St. Alphonsus, Theol. mor. (ed. Gaudé), 1. 3, n. 172, where reference is made to Roncaglia, Tamburini, Mazzetta, and others; Lehmkuhl, Theol. mor., I, n. 409; Aerinys, Theol. mor., l. 3, n. 72.
{3} Lugo describes the sin simply as perjurium. He says: Nec excusaretur a periurio, qui absque intentione iurandi iuraret exterius falsum per verba, quae hic et nunc determinate et omnino significant animum iurandi et invocandi Deum in testem (De just. et iure disp. 23, n. 12). The non-fulfilment of a promise made sub ficto juramento must also he considered equivalent to perjury. For if contempt of God is shown hy apparently calling upon Him to witness a lie, it is certainly a great insult to Him to he false to a pledge placed under His authority. There are some moralists who have not made this latter point sufficiently clear.
{4} Additional importance was attached to the intention, hecause early authorities laid little stress upon the actual formula of an oath, and consequently regarded many asseverations as oaths although we cannot see in them any invocation of God amounting to an oath.
{5} Arndts, Pandekten, 4th ed., 1861, p. 382.
{6} Cf., with reference to Döllinger and Reusch, Hillebrand, Kath. und protest. Wahrheitsliehe. Katholik., 1899, p. 127, seq.
{7} De Lugo, I. c., disp. 22, n. 48.
{8} III, 709.
{9} Although generally speaking the consequences of concluding a real and a fictitious contract are the same, it is possible for the ultimate result to he different. For instance, the other contracting party is not bound to release the one who has only simulated assent, if the former chooses to regard the contract as valid; he can however plead that it is invalid, if to be released from it seems advantageous to himself.
{10} In St. Augustine's time the opinion that it was permissible to lie in cases of necessity was generally accepted (in hominum opinione praevaluit, n. 30), and a lively controversy on the subject was carried on hy learned men (in qua solvenda etiam doctissimi fatigantur, n. 33).
{11} Kant and Fichte are of the same opinion, yet the former, in his declaration that "for the future" he would "altogether" refrain from lecturing on religion, said that he made the declaration as "Your Majesty's most loyal subject." Afterwards however he acknowledged that he had used this latter expression in order to be obliged to renounce his freedom of speech only during the lifetime of Frederick William II.
{12} Even later moralists are not so consistent in their adherence to these principles as to exclude from their concrete instances all purely mental reservations. Herrmann rightly condemns an attempt, discussed by Gury and others, to justify a denial of adultery by the argument: se non fregisse matrimonium, siquidem adhuc persistit. Adloff's remarks (Kath. Moral und Sittlichkeit, 1901, p. 29, seq.), on the double meaning of the expression matrimonium frangere do not affect the matter. The point is not whether the words can, according to the dictionary, bear some particular meaning, but whether they actually do bear it under those definite circumstances. Laymona was quite correct in his remarks on the subject (1. 2, tr. 3, c. 13, n. 7, 11).
{13} Herrmann thinks that a lie is permissible when "personal agreement" with some one is not at the time possible; but this rule will not be generally accepted, although it is put forward with much assurance. I should find it easier, in precisely these cases, directly to refuse information; the most unpleasant situation is that in which I must remain in "personal agreement" and have reason to fear that plain truth would endanger it. There are many people "morally incapable" of enduring plain speaking in the way in which an ideal Christian disposition would accept it, and yet Christians are forced to remain in personal agreement with them. Between husband and wife there may be a great many harmonious relations and binding duties which form the foundation of permanent agreement, even though the one is not aware of every unhappy and weak incident in the past life of the other. Herrmann requires a wife to confess to her husband, should he question her, an instance of infidelity long ago repented of; why does he not make a confession on the part of the husband to the wife indispensable to personal agreement? Ibsen has given us, in his "Wild Duck," a striking instance of the consequences that a rigoristic and blind adherence to truth may have in a family.
{14} Hillebrand (I. c., p. 119) says, with reference to St. Alphonsus: "If we take into account the ordinary rules of procedure, we find that, both from a juristic and moral point of view, it is impossible to challenge either the general principle that he lays down or the instances adduced."
{15} Nachrichten für Stadt und Land, Oldenburg, 1903.
{16} Even now, in spite of our having a more perfect legal system, judges are but men, and liable to abuse their right of asking questions and to act in a way contrary to law and liberty. Dr. Sello, in writing on the reform of our criminal procedure, gives tbe following warning: "If you tear down the barriers which knowledge based on the experience of centuries has set up against the arbitrary action of judges, if you tear them down for the sake of so-called higher, moral, and political considerations, then every one of us will find himself with his neck in the noose once his turn comes" (Zukunft, 1904, No. 12). In 1908 the Bavarian minister of justice stated emphatically that it was the judge's duty to avoid asking defendants and witnesses questions that went beyond the limits assigned by law, or were even aimed at forcing the witness to show himself in the wrong.
{17} Luther maintains that in answer to a request for a loan of money any one may say with a clear conscience that he has none, even if he actually is in possession of money, with the meaning: I have none to give you. (Tischreden (Förstemann), I, 278.) In his parochial sermons of 1528, hitherto unknown (Weimar ed., XXVII, 12), Luther asserts, in opposition to the "monks" who declare all lying to be sinful, that lies told out of love and for some advantage, proceeding from a good heart, are not sins. "How I would glory," he exclaims, "in deception, if thus I deceived men for their own good!"
{18} Luther's Briefe, Sendschreiben. (de Wette-Seidemann), pp. 6, 263, 272.
{19} Janssen, Gesch. des d. Volkes (ed. 9-12), III, 439, seq.
{20} Ibid., p. 64.
{21} Döllinger, Die Reformation, III, 188.
{22} Kirchenlexikon, 2d ed., VIII, 342; cf. N. Paulus, Wissensch. Beil. zur Germania, 1904, No. 33, seq.
{23} Stdudlin, op. cit., p. 249, seq.
{24} Ibid., p. 433.
{25} A. Titius acknowledges frankly that reservatio mentalis must sometimes be regarded as morally permissible, but he thinks Gury and St. Alphonsus give too wide an interpretation to this principle (Theol. Jahresbericht for 1906, p. 1021). Thomas Carlyle, in his "Lectures on Heroes," makes an interesting remark on the subject of Cromwell's alleged falsehoods. He says that every eminent man must exercise reticence in some things, and must often adopt the language of his inferiors and even of partisans because his own deeper insight would be unintelligible or harmful to others. "If he walk, wearing his heart upon his sleeve for daws to peck at, his journey will not extend far. . . . There are impertinent questions made; your rule is to leave the inquirer uninformed on that matter; not, if you can help it, misinformed, but precisely as dark as he was. This, could one hit the right phrase of response, is what the wise and faithful man would aim to answer in such a case."
{26} Ausgewahlte Briefe, Bonn, 1895, p. 409.
{27} Ethik, 6th ed., II, 240, seq.
{28} Münch. Aug. Zeitg., 1896, Beil. No. 65.
{29} Schrempf, Akten zu meiner Entlassung aus dem württemb. Kirchendienst, Göttingen, 1892, p. 39.
{30} Ibid., Eine Nottaufe, Stuttgart, 1894, p. 32; ef. also the statements given in the Christl. Welt, 1902, p. 891, and 1905, p. 84.
{31} Such statements, made by Protestants with regard to their own Church, are of much greater weight than the unfavourable opinion expressed by Councillor Wiese, a Protestant, regarding the truthfulness of Catholics, upon which Sell depends (op. cit., p. 268). The sense of veracity in religion has been undermined by freethinking theologians who discuss great facts of faith and salvation from a scientific standpoint. They assert that the prophets, acting in the interest of morality and monotheism, forged the book of Deuteronomy and pretended that the Pentateuch was the work of Moses. They say, moreover, that Roman bishops and theologians declared the Apostles' Creed to be the regula fidei and the teaching of the twelve apostles, hoping thus to prevent Christianity from degenerating into extravagance or philosophical speculation. The theologians to whom I am referring do not find fault with this pious deception, but defend it in both cases for historical reasons, and even applaud it as showing much prudence.
{32} Grenzbote, 1895, I, 628, seq.