Late-Medieval Philosophy Texts
Siger of Brabant On the Intellective Soul
Giles of Rome: On The Errors of The Philosophers
William Ockham: Summa Logicae (Bk. 1. C. 1-11. Excerpts)
Nicolaus of Autrecourt's Critique of Causality And Substance
Jean Buridan and The Impetus Theory of Projectile Motion
although little
information is available concerning the place and date of his birth, Siger's name indicates that
he came from the duchy of
One of his most controverted theories had to do with the nature of the human intellect. His early discussion of the problem is strongly influenced by Averroes. There is one intellective soul for the human species, the last in the hierarchy of separated intelligences, which is itself composed of an agent and a possible (receptive) intellect. An individual man possesses neither a personal agent nor a personal possible intellect and therefore has no personal spiritual soul. Siger was sharply attacked for his theory by Thomas Aquinas in his On the Unity of the Intellect in 1270. According to the Italian philosopher, Agostino Nifo (d. ca. 1538 or 1545/6), Siger replied in a treatise now lost, De intellectu, wherein he continued to defend the separated character of the possible intellect but identified the agent intellect with God. This was followed by his important De anima intellectiva, in 1272 or 1273 where, according to certain commentators, there is some mitigation of his denial of a personal intellective soul in man. The critical section appears in Chap. VII, translated for this volume by J. A. Arnold and J. F. Wippel. The propositions condemned by Stephen Tempier in 1270 have been added as an appendix to this chapter.
[CHAP. VII: WHETHER THE INTELLECTIVE SOUL IS MULTIPLIED IN ACCORD WITH THE MULTIPLICATION OF HUMAN BODIES]1
As to the seventh point raised above, viz. whether the intellective soul is multiplied in accord with the multiplication of human bodies, it must be carefully considered insofar as such pertains to the philosopher and can be grasped by human reason and experience, by seeking the mind of the philosophers in this matter rather than the truth since we are proceeding philosophically. For it is certain according to that truth which cannot deceive that intellective souls are multiplied with the multiplication of human bodies. However, certain philosophers have thought otherwise.
According to philosophy, then: 1. A nature which is separated from matter in its being is not multiplied with the multiplication of matter. But according to the Philosopher the intellective soul enjoys being which is separated from matter, as we have already seen. Therefore, it should not be multiplied either with the multiplication of matter or with the multiplication of human bodies.
This reasoning is confirmed as follows. To differ in species, as man differs from ass, is to differ by reason of form. But to differ in number while belonging to the same species, as horse differs from horse, is to differ by reason of matter. For the form of horse is found in different parts of matter. Because of this it is asserted that what exists apart from any principle causing number or difference or multiplication lacks number, difference, and multiplication. But if the intellective soul enjoys being which is separated from matter then it exists apart from any principle that causes difference and number and multiplication of individuals within a species. Therefore, there do not seem to be many intellective souls within the same species.
2. No nature that subsists in itself and exists apart from matter and is thus individuated of itself can admit of numerically distinct individuals. But the intellective soul subsists in itself and exists apart from matter and is thus individuated of itself. Therefore it cannot admit of plurality of individuals within the same species.
Proof for the major: If it were of the essence of man to be this man or to be Socrates, just as there could not be many men each of whom would be Socrates or this man, neither could there be many men [at all]. Now if man subsisted in himself and apart from singulars, he would be individuated of this essence. Therefore every form that subsists in itself and has no materiality is individuated of its essence. And since nothing individuated can be common to many, no form enjoying being independently from matter can be common to many individuals. According to this reasoning, then, there is numerically only one intelligence in each species of intelligences separated from matter, a point on which all the philosophers have agreed. Wherefore, in holding that the ideas and species of material things are separated from matter, Plato posited only one ' individual per species.
For the minor, cf. chapter III above.
But someone might say that since there is an intellective soul in me, God can make another like it and thus there will be more than one. To this it is to be replied that God cannot make that which is self-contradictory-and repugnant. In like manner, God cannot produce many men, each of whom would be Socrates. For then he would make them to be many men and one man, many men and not many men, one man and not one man. But if the intellective soul is individuated of its essence and subsistent in itself and thus like Socrates, to make another intellective soul identical in species with one now existing would be to make it different from and the same as the first one. For in things separated from matter the individual is the species itself. Therefore, another individual within the species would be something contrary under that individual, which is impossible.
3. Something white can be divided into parts not because it is white but because it is quantified and continuous. But if there were something white that was neither quantified nor continuous, it would not be divisible into many white things. Nor would a separate and subsistent whiteness be divisible into many whitenesses. Just as that which is white is divisible into many white things because it is quantified and continuous, so too, if numerically distinct white things are actually found within the same species this is because of the actual division of the quantified and continuous thing in which the whiteness is present. From this it is argued that a nature whose being is separated from the quantified and continuous in such fashion that it is neither quantified nor continuous nor exists in anything quantified or continuous is unable to admit of many individuals within the same species, because of the absence of a cause to multiply and render distinct the various individuals of that nature within that species. But the intellective soul exists apart from the quantified and continuous and is not itself quantified or continuous as the Philosopher [Aristotle] proves in De anima I. ... Therefore, since the intellect exists apart from the quantified and continuous and is not itself quantified and continuous, it will not admit of many individuals within one species. For such plurality and multiplication arises by division of that which is continuous.
4. The Philosopher [Aristotle] says in Metaphysics XII, that if there were many individuals [heavens] of the same species there would be many first movers of the same species. And he notes that then the first mover would have matter because that which is one in species but many in number has matter. But if the intellect is impassible, and shares nothing in common with anything else, and is separated from the body and a potency without matter, as the Philosopher holds, then that same Philosopher would not be likely to think that it is one in species and many in number but rather that it is only one in number.
5. According to the mind of the Philosopher an infinity of men have already existed. But if intellective souls are multiplied with the multiplication of human bodies, the Philosopher would have to hold that souls are infinite in number, which does not seem to be the case. In the light of the above we must consider what kind of thing can be multiplied and predicated of numerically different members of the same species. And we must also determine how the various members of a species - differ and in what respects.
Concerning the first point: It is to be noted that nothing that is singular and individuated can be multiplied into or predicated of many individuals within the same species. For then the singular and the universal would not differ. And since a subsistent form is numerically one and singular of its nature, it is clear that it cannot be multiplied into many individuals within the same species or predicated of them. That which is composed of form and determined matter as existing in this place or that is singular, like the entity named Socrates. Therefore, for the same reason Socrates can neither be multiplied into many nor predicated of them. Nor can the same material form as received in determined matter be multiplied into many or predicated of many. And in general, since everything that exists does so as a singular (granted that certain things may be understood or spoken of universally), no being viewed as it exists can be multiplied into many individuals within its species or predicated of them. Only a material form considered in the abstract or something composed of form and indetermined matter, as that which is signified by composite universals such as man or horse, can be multiplied into many within the same species and predicated of them.
Concerning the second point: It is to be said or understood that two individuals of the same species do not differ in form. As found in them form is not divided according to its substance. Of itself the matter of this individual is not divided from the matter of that individual. Rather one individual diners from another of the same species through this, that one possesses its form under determined dimensions or under a determined position as located here, while the other possesses the form of its species as located there. The form as found in the two individuals is not rendered other by diversity according to the form itself and its substance, for such diversity of form results in difference in species. Rather both individuals possess the one form, which is undivided as form. Nor should anyone wonder at us for saying that the form in each individual is one by that unity which follows upon its substance and yet that it is found here and elsewhere. When we understand a form to be one by the unity that follows upon its substance we do not have in mind something taken individually, but rather according to species, since a material form is not individuated of itself. It is not impossible for that which is one in species to be found in different individuals and to occupy different positions, thus being found here and elsewhere. . . . And just as form found in individuals is not divided as form either directly or by way of consequence, so too, neither is matter. It is not divided of itself, but is divided because quantified things are located here and elsewhere.
But there are weighty arguments according to which the intellective soul must be multiplied with the multiplication of human bodies, and authorities can also be cited for this view.
Thus Avicenna, Algazel, and Themistius maintain this. Themistius also holds that the agent intellect, taken as illuminating and as illuminated, is multiplied even though there is only one [supreme] illuminating intellect. All the more so does he mean that the possible intellect is multiplied.
Again, there are arguments for this view. If there were only one intellect for all men, when one knows then all would know. And one would not know while another did not. If to imagine is not the same as to understand, granted that the man who understands has phantasms, which the ignorant man lacks, this will not account for the fact that he knows more than the other. For the intellect in which actual understanding takes place is no more his than the ignorant man's, unless the position is changed.
For the sake of discussion someone might say that the one man knows and the other does not for this reason: that the act of intellection takes place by reason of one unique agent or one unique intellect operating in the man who knows, but not in 'the man who does not. Thus we described above how man understands or how the act of understanding may be attributed to man himself, namely, because the action of an agent united to matter is attributed to the whole composite. In the act of understanding the intellect unites itself to the one who knows and not to the one who does not know because it derives knowledge from the phantasms [of the knower]. Thus one man knows while another remains ignorant, not because the act of imagining on the part of one is greater than the act of understanding on the part of the other, nor because the intelligible species is found in the body of one rather than in the body of the other (for it exists apart), nor because they use different intellects in understanding (as the present position maintains), but because the act of understanding takes place by reason of the intellect, which is united to the body of one in operating but not to the body of the other.
But if someone should say this, then the argument may be developed in another way. Operations may be distinguished ^either by reason of the agent, or by reason of the time at which they occur. Thus if both you and I see the same object at the same time, the acts of sight are different [by reason of the agent]. If someone sees a white and a black object with one and the same eye, the acts of sight are different by reason of the object. If I see something white and then after some time see the same white object, the acts of sight differ by reason of time. Therefore, if two men understand the same intelligible object at the same time and if this takes place by means of one and the same intellect, this man's act of understanding will be the same as that man's act of understanding, which seems absurd.
Again, the Philosopher holds that the intellect is in potency to intelligible species and receptive of these species and is itself without species. But if there is only one intellect then it will always be filled with species and thus there will be no need for the agent intellect. Therefore, because of these difficulties and certain others, I acknowledge that I myself have been in doubt for quite some time both as to what should be held in the light of natural reason about this point and as to what the Philosopher thought about it. In such doubt one must hold fast to the faith, which surpasses all human reasoning.
For roughly six hundred years the western Church faced no
problem of having to defend its doctrines against rival philosophical claims.
This situation changed abruptly when, in the latter half of the twelfth
century, the works of Aristotle, Avicenna, Averroës,
Maimonides, and other pagan, Arabic, and Jewish thinkers finally entered the
Christian cultural orbit. At first these systems of thought which claimed
competence in philosophical domains long considered the exclusive preserve of
Christian thinkers were received with great reverence and candor. But as it
began to appear that many of these importations contained powerfully structured
arguments leading to conclusions diametrically opposed to approved
teachings, the Church began to take steps accordingly. At the
Born in 1247, Giles entered the Order of the Hermits of St.
Augustine about 1260. From 1269 to 1272 he was a student at the
HERE BEGIN THE ERRORS OF THE PHILOSOPHERS ARISTOTLE, AVERROËS, AVICENNA, ALGAZEL, ALKINDI, AND RABBI MOSES (MAIMONIDES), COMPILED BY BROTHER GILES OF THE ORDER OF ST. AUGUSTINE
And a compilation of Aristotle’s errors is placed first.
As it is the case that many wrong conclusions follow from one faulty statement, so the Philosopher has drawn many errors from one faulty principle.
1. For he believed nothing to be disposed in some condition in which it previously was not, except it came to be that way through a preceding motion. He held, moreover, that there is no novelty except where there is change, taken properly. Because, therefore, every change taken properly is a terminus of motion, there can be no novelty without a preceding motion. Now from this principle he concluded that motion never began to be; since if motion began, the motion was new. But nothing is new except through some preceding motion. Therefore there was motion before the first motion, which is a contradiction.
2. Further: he erred because he posited time never to have begun. Now time always follows on motion, if, therefore. motion never began, neither did time. Moreover, it seemed to him that the principle of time involved a special difficulty. For since an instant is always the end of the past and the beginning of the future, a first instant cannot be given. because there was a time before every instant, and before any assigned time there was an instant. Time, therefore, did not begin, but is eternal.
3. Further: because of what has already been stated, he was forced to posit a mobile to be eternal and the world to be eternal. For as one cannot give a time without motion, and motion without a mobile, if time and motion are eternal, the mobile will be eternal, and so the world would never begin. All of this is clear from Book VIII of the Physics.
4. Further: he was forced to posit the heavens to be ungenerated and incorruptible, and never to have been made but always to have been. For since among the varieties of motion only the circular is continuous—as is clear from Book VIII of the Physics—if any motion is eternal, the circular will be eternal. And since circular motion is proper to the heavens—as is shown in Book I On the Heavens and the Earth—it then follows that the heavens are uncreated and that they were never made. Moreover, he had a special reason why the heavens never began: because whatever has the power to be forever in the future, always had the power to be in the past. And since the heavens will never cease to be, they did not begin to be.
5. Further: since, according to him, whatever comes about comes from pre-existent matter, he concluded that there could not be another world. Hence, God could not make another world, since this one is constructed from all the matter there is. This error also is found in Book I, On the Heavens and the Earth.
6. He held further that generation in this sublunary world would never end, and that it never began. For corruption precedes and follows every generation, and generation precedes and follows every corruption. Because of this, since a corruption has preceded any generation, while some generation has preceded a corruption, it is impossible for generation and corruption to have had a beginning; nor is it possible for them to cease to be, since a corruption follows any generation, and a generation follows any corruption. If, therefore, either generation or corruption were to cease, there would be a generation after the final generation, and a corruption after the final corruption. Moreover, that a corruption precedes and follows generation, he proved by way of motion. For something is not generated except because something is corrupted; and so corruption precedes generation and also follows it, since every generable is corruptible, and every corruptible will be corrupted of necessity. Thus also generation precedes corruption, because nothing is corrupted except it was previously generated; and generation follows because the corruption of one thing is the generation of another. However, this error-that generation and corruption neither begin nor end—can be found in Book I, and more expressly in Book II, On Generation and Corruption.
7. Further: since generation in this sublunary world is brought about through the sun, he was forced to maintain that the sun—to quote him—”will never cease to generate plants and animals.” This is clear from Book I, On Plants.
8. Further: since, according to his posited principle, there is no novelty without a preceding motion, he erred in maintaining that something new could not proceed immediately from God. This is clear in Book II of his On Generation and Corruption, where he says that “the same thing, remaining the same, always makes the same.”
9. Further: he was constrained to deny the resurrection of the dead. That he held it as erroneous that the dead should rise again, is clear from Book I, On the Soul. Also, in Book VIII of the Metaphysics he held that the dead cannot return to life except through many intermediaries; and if one does return, it does not return numerically the same, because things which have lost substance do not return numerically the same, as is said at the end of Book II, On Generation and Corruption.
Now if someone were to wish to excuse Aristotle on the ground that he is speaking in a naturalistic sense, this would not do: because he believed that nothing new could proceed from God immediately, but that every novelty comes about by way of motion and natural operation.
10. Further: since he believed that nothing new could occur except by way of motion and through the operation of nature, he believed—as appears in Book I of the Physics where he argues against Anaxagoras-that an intellect which wants to separate passions and accidents from substance is, to quote him, “an intellect seeking the impossible.” On this account it seems to follow that God cannot make an accident without a subject.
11. Further: since by way of motion the generation of one thing never occurs unless there is the corruption of another; and since one substantial form is never introduced unless another is expelled; and since the matter of all things possessing matter is the same; it follows that there are not more substantial forms in one composite than there are in another. Indeed, to one who would consistently pursue this line of reasoning, it would appear that there is but one substantial form in every composite; and this seems to be the Philosopher’s view. Hence, in Book VII of the Metaphysics, in the chapter “On the Unity of Definition,” he holds the parts of a definition not to be one, as he says, “because they are in one,” but rather because they define one nature.
Now if he means here one composite nature consisting in many forms, then his view can be maintained; but if he means one simple nature, and that there is only one form in such a composite, it is false.
12. Further: he posited that where there is still water, or a sea, at some time it was there dry, and conversely; because time does not cease but is eternal, as is clear from Book I of Meteors. Hence, he also had to say, necessarily, that one cannot posit a first man or a first rainfall.
13. Further: since an intelligence is unable to move something unless it is itself actually moving; and since intelligences are posited to be in the best state when they are moving something; he said there were as many angels, or as many intelligences, as there are orbs. This is quite clear from Book XII of the Metaphysics.
Divine Scripture, however, contradicts this, saying: “thousands of thousands tended to Him, and ten-thousand times a hundred-thousand stood before Him.”
These, therefore, are all of his errors in sum, namely:
1. That motion did not begin.
2. That time is eternal.
3. That the world did not begin.
4. That the heavens are not created.
5. That God could not make another world.
6. That generation and corruption neither began nor will end.
7. That the sun will always cause generation and corruption in this sublunary world.
8. That nothing new can proceed immediately from God.
9. That the resurrection of the dead is impossible.
10. That God cannot make an accident without a subject.
11. That there is but one substantial form in any composite.
12. That one cannot posit a first man or a first rainfall.
13. That there is no way in which two bodies can be in the same place.
14. That there are as many angels as there are orbs—because from this it follows that there are only 55 or 57.
Now certain men wanted to excuse the Philosopher’s position on the eternity of the world. But this attempt cannot hold up, since he insists upon the aforesaid principle so as to demonstrate philosophical truths. Indeed, he almost never wrote a book of philosophy where he did not employ this principle.
Again, aside from the above-mentioned errors, some men wanted to impute to him the view that God knows nothing outside Himself, so that this sublunary world is not known to Him—citing as reason for this view the words which are found in Book XII of the Metaphysics, in the chapter “The Opinion of the Fathers.” But that they do not understand the Philosopher, and that this is not his intention, is dear from what is said in the chapter “On Good Fortune,” where he says that God, known through Himself, is the past and the future. Moreover, other errors, with which we are not concerned as they arise from an improper understanding of Aristotle, are attributed to him.
Now all of his errors, if one investigates subtly, follow from this position: that nothing new comes into being except there be a preceding motion. This is, therefore, false: because God is the First Agent, and being a non-instrumental agent, He will be able to produce a thing without a preceding motion. Now an agent by nature is an instrumental agent; but because it is of the nature of an instrument that it move the moved, motion is of necessity presupposed in its action. The making, therefore, in the production of a first agent can be without such motion. Creation, therefore, is not motion, because motion presupposes a mobile. Creation, in truth, presupposes nothing; nor is creation properly a change, because all change is a terminus of motion; but, as is commonly held, it is a simple procession of things from the first agent. Therefore, whatever is argued by way of motion against the beginning of the world, or against that which is held by faith, is wholly sophistical.
Now the Commentator agrees in all the errors of the Philosopher. Indeed, he spoke even more ironically and with greater pertinacity than the Philosopher against those who posited the world to have begun. He is to be argued against incomparably more than against the Philosopher, because he more directly impugns our faith, holding to be false that which could not contain falsity as it is based upon the First Truth.
1. He went beyond the Philosopher’s errors because he scorned all law, as is clear from Book II and XI of the Metaphysics, where he mocks the law of the Christians, or our Catholic law, and even the Saracen law, because they too posit the creation of things and that something can be created from nothing. He mocks also in the beginning of Book III of the Physics, where he holds that some men, because of the contrary assertion of the laws, are led to deny self-evident Principles—as when they deny that nothing can be created out of nothing. Indeed, what is worse, he derisively calls us, and others who hold the law, “talkers,” as if we were babblers and irrational wanderers. And also in Book VIII of the Physics he scorns the laws; while the “talkers” in law he calls “willers,” because they assert that something can have being after wholly non-being. Indeed, he calls this dictum “a will,” as if it were arbitrarily established only, and completely lacking in reason. And not only once or twice, but many times in the same Book VIII he exclaims in a similar manner against the laws asserting the creation.
2. He erred further, saying in Book VII of the Metaphysics that no immaterial thing transmutes a material thing except through the mediation of an intransmutable body. Because of this, it follows that an angel cannot move one stone here in the sublunary world. In a certain sense this does follow from the Philosopher’s position, however the Philosopher did not himself expressly take this position.
3. He erred further, saying in Book XII of the Metaphysics that the potency in the production of something could not be in the agent alone, scorning John the Christian who maintained this view. Indeed, Averroës’ view is opposed to truth and the Saints, because in made things the whole principle of the made thing lies in the potency of the maker.
4. Further: he erred by saving in the same Book XTI that no agent can immediately produce diverse and contrary things. And by saying this he scorns the speakers in the three laws: namely, the law of the Christians, Saracens and Moors-because they all asserted this.
5. Further: he erred saying in Book XII that all intellectual substances are eternal and pure acts, having no admitted potency. But he was himself constrained by truth to contradict this opinion in Book Ill of On the Soul, where he says that - “no form is absolutely free from potency except the first form”; for, as he himself adds, all “other forms are diversified in essence and quiddity.”
6. Further: he erred saying in Book XII that God is neither solicitous, nor does He have care, nor does He provide for individuals existing in the sublunary world. For, as he says, ‘“this is neither permissible to, nor consonant with, Divine Goodness.”
7. He erred further denying a Trinity to be in God, saying in Book XII that some’ men “held a Trinity to be in God, but they sought by this device to be evasive and to really say that there are three Gods and one God; still, they don’t even know how to be evasive properly, because when substance is numbered, the aggregate will still be one through the one added intention.”
Because of this, according to him, if God were three and one, it would follow that He would be a composite, which is contradictory.
8. Further: he erred because he said that God did not know particulars since they are infinite. This is clear from his comment in the chapter “The Opinion of the Fathers.”
9.
Further: he erred because he denied that all which occurs in the sublunary
world is guided by Divine Solicitude or Divine Providence. For according to
him, some things, as he puts it “occur owing to the necessity of
matter” and without the guidance of such
But this is opposed to the Saints; because nothing that occurs here is completely independent of the aforesaid Guidance, since all that we see here is either brought about, or permitted, by Divine Providence.
10. Further: he erred because he posited that there was numerically one intellect in all. This is clear from Book III of On the Soul.
11. Further: since it follows from the position just stated that the intellect is not the form of the body, Averroës therefore concluded in the same Book III that the term “act” is applied equivocally to the intellect and to other forms. Because of this, be was constrained to say that man is not placed in a species through his possession of an intellective soul, but rather through his possession of a sensitive soul.
12. Further: reasoning from this principle, he concluded that from the union of the intellective soul and the body there is not constituted some third thing; and that from such a soul and body there no more arises a unity, than there arises such a unity from the union of the mover of the heavens and the heavens.
These are all the errors in which the Commentator goes beyond those of the Philosopher:
1. That no law is true, although it may be useful.
2. That an angel can move nothing immediately except it be a heavenly body.
3. That an angel is a pure act.
4. That in no made thing does the whole principle of the making lie in the potency of the maker.
5. That from no agent can there proceed diverse things simultaneously.
6. That God has no providence over some particulars.
7. That there is no trinity in God.
8. That God does not know singulars.
9. That something can proceed from the necessity of matter without the guidance of Divine providence.
10. That the intellective soul is not multiplied with the multiplication of bodies, but is numerically one.
11. That man is placed in a species by his possession of a sensitive soul.
12. That a thing no more becomes one through the unity of the intellective soul and the body, than does such a unity arise from the conjoining of the mover of the heavens and the heavens.
All those who deal with logic try to establish that arguments are composed of propositions, and propositions of terms. Hence a term is simply one of the parts into which a proposition is directly divided. Aristotle defines terms in the first book of the Prior Analytics by saying:
‘I call a term that into which a proposition is resolved (viz. the predicate, or that of which something is predicated) when it is affirmed or denied that something is or is not something’.
Although every term is or can be a part of a proposition, yet not all terms are of the same kind. Hence to obtain a perfect knowledge of them, we must first get acquainted with some distinctions between terms.
According to Boethius in the first book of the De Interpretatione, language is threefold: written, spoken and conceptual. The last named exists only in the intellect. Correspondingly the term is threefold, viz. the written, the spoken and the conceptual term. A written term is part of a proposition written on some material, and is or can be seen with the bodily eye. A spoken term is part of a proposition uttered with the mouth and able to be heard with the bodily ear. A conceptual term is a mental content or impression which naturally possesses signification or consignification, and which is suited to be part of a mental proposition and to stand for that which it signifies.
These conceptual terms and the propositions formed by them are those mental words which St. Augustine says in the fifteenth book of De Trinitate do not belong to any language; they remain only in the mind and cannot be uttered exteriorly. Nevertheless vocal words which are signs subordinated to these can be exteriorly uttered.
I say vocal words are signs subordinated to mental concepts or contents. By this I do not mean that if the word ‘sign’ is taken in its proper meaning, spoken words are properly and primarily signs of mental concepts; I rather mean that words are applied in order to signify the very same things which are signified by mental concepts. Hence the concept signifies something primarily and naturally, whilst the word signifies the same thing secondarily. This holds to such an extent that a word conventionally signifying an object signified by a mental concept would immediately, and without any new convention, come to signify another object, simply because the concept came to signify another object. This is what k meant by the Philosopher when he says ‘Words are signs of the impressions in the soul’. Boethius also has the same in mind when he says that words signify concepts. Generally speaking, all authors who maintain that all words signify, or are signs of impressions in the mind, only mean that words are signs which signify secondarily what the impressions of the mind import primarily. Nevertheless, some words may also primarily signify impressions of the mind, or concepts; these may in turn signify secondarily other intentions of the mind, as will be shown later.
What has been said about words in regard to impressions or contents or concepts holds likewise analogously for written words in reference to spoken words.
Certain differences are to be found among these [three] sorts of terms. One is the following: A concept or mental impression signifies naturally whatever it does signify; a spoken or written term, on the other hand, does not signify anything except by free convention.
From this follows another difference. We can change the designation of the spoken or written term at will, but the designation of the conceptual term is not to be changed at anybody’s will.
For the sake of quibblers, however, it should be noted that ‘sign’ can assume two meanings. In one sense it means anything which, when apprehended, makes us know something else; but it does not make us know something for the first time, as has been shown elsewhere; it only makes us know something actually which we already know habitually. In this manner, a word is a natural sign, and indeed any effect is a sign at least of its cause. And in this way also a barrel-hoop signifies the wine in the inn. Here, however, I am not speaking of ‘sign’ in such a general meaning. In another sense, ‘sign’ means that which makes us know something else, and either is able itself to stand for it, or can be added in a proposition to what is able to stand for something-such are the syncategorematic words and the verbs and other parts of a proposition which have no definite signification--or is such as to be composed of things of this sort, e.g. a sentence. If ‘sign’ is taken in this sense, then a word is not a natural sign of anything.
The noun ‘term’ has three meanings. In one sense, ‘term’ is the name of everything that can be the copula or one of the extremes in a categorical proposition, namely the subject or the predicate, or any qualification of the subject or predicate or of the verb. In this sense, even a proposition can be a term, as it can be part of a proposition. For it is true to say: “Man is an animal” is a true proposition. In this case, the entire proposition ‘Man is an animal’ is the subject and ‘true proposition’ is the predicate.
In another sense, the noun ‘term’ is contrasted with a sentence. Then, every non-complex expression is called a ‘term’. (It was in this sense that I used ‘term’ in the preceding chapter.)
Thirdly, ‘term’ in its precise meaning designates everything that in its significative function can be either subject or predicate of a proposition. In this sense a verb or a conjunction or an adverb or a proposition or an interjection is not a term. Even many nouns will not be terms, viz. the syncategorematic nouns1; although they may be extremes of a proposition when taken in material or simple suppositio, nevertheless, when taken in their significative function, they cannot be extremes of a proposition. For instance, the sentence ‘‘‘Reads” is a verb’ makes sense and is true if the verb ‘reads’ is taken in material supposition.2 If; however, it were taken in its significative function, the sentence would be unintelligible. The same holds for the following propositions: ‘ ‘‘All” is a noun’, ‘ “ once” is an adverb’, ‘ ‘‘If’’ is a conjunction’, ‘ ‘‘From’’ is a preposition’. It is in this [last] sense that the Philosopher understands ‘term’ when he defines it in the first book of the Prior Analytics.
Not only can one simple expression be a term in this sense, but also a composite of two such simple expressions, viz. of an adjective and a substantive, and of a participle and an adverb, or of a preposition with its grammatical case, since such a compound, too, can be subject or predicate of a proposition. For in the proposition ‘A white man is a man’, neither ‘man’ nor ‘white’ is the ‘subject, but only the whole expression ‘white man. Likewise in the proposition ‘[The one] running swiftly is a man’, neither ‘[the one] running’ nor ‘swiftly’ is the subject but the entire expression ‘[the one] running swiftly’.
Yet not only the noun in the nominative case may be a term, but also a noun in another case, because such a noun can be subject and also predicate of a proposition.
However, a noun which is not in the nominative case cannot be subject in reference to any verb. For it is not correct to say ‘The man’s sees a donkey’, although it is correct to say, ‘The man’s is a donkey’. How a noun in an oblique case may be subject and which verbs can or cannot have such a subject are questions for the grammarian to decide, for his task it is to study the constructions of words.
There is still another distinction holding both between vocal, and between mental, terms. Some are categorematic, others syncategorematic, terms. Categorematic terms have a definite and fixed signification, as for instance the word ‘man’ (since it signifies all men) and the word ‘animal’ (since it signifies all animals), and the word ‘whiteness’ (since it signifies all occurrences of whiteness). Syncategorematic terms, on the other hand, as ‘every’, ‘none’, ‘some’, ‘whole’, ‘besides’, ‘only’, in so far as’, and the like, do not have a fixed and definite meaning, nor do they signify things distinct from the things signified by categorematic terms. Rather, just as, in the system of numbers, zero standing alone does not signify anything, but when added to another number gives it a new signification; so likewise a syncategorematic term does not signify anything, properly speaking; but when added to another term, it makes it signify something or makes it stand for some thing or things in a definite manner, or has some other function with regard to a categorematic term. Thus the syncategorematic word ‘every’ does not signify any fixed thing, but when added to ‘man’ it makes the term ‘man’ stand for all men actually, or with confused distributive suppositio. When added, however, to ‘stone’, it makes the term ‘stone’ stand for al] stones; and when added to ‘whiteness’, it makes it stand for all occurrences of whiteness. As with this syncategorematic word ‘every, so with others, although the different syncategorematic words have different tasks, as will be shown further below.
Should some quibbler say that the word ‘every’ is significant and consequently it signifies something, we answer that it is called significant, not because it signifies something determinately but only because it makes something else signify or represent or stand for something, as we explained before. And just as we say that the noun 1 ‘every’ does not signify anything in a determinate and limited way, to use Boethius’s way of speaking, we must maintain the same of all syncategorematic words and all conjunctions and prepositions.
It is, however, different with some adverbs, because certain of them determinately signify the same things which categorematic words signify, though they do so in a different mode of signification.
Having discussed concrete and abstract terms, we must now speak of another division of names frequently used by the teachers of philosophy.
Certain names are purely absolute, others are connotative. Purely absolute names are those which do not signify one thing principally, and another or even the same thing secondarily; but everything alike that is signified by the same absolute name, is signified primarily. For instance, the name ‘animal’ just signifies oxen, donkeys and also all other animals; it does not signify one thing primarily and another secondarily, in such a way that something has to be expressed in the nominative case and something else in an oblique case; nor is there any need to have nouns in different cases, or participles, in the definitions which express the meaning of ‘animal’. On the contrary, properly speaking, such names have no definitions expressing the meaning of the term. For, strictly speaking, a name that has a definition expressing the meaning of the name, has only one such definition, and consequently no two sentences which express the meaning of such terms are so different in their parts that some part in the first sentence signifies something that is not signified by any corresponding part in the second. The meaning of absolute names, however, may be explained in some manner by several sentences, whose respective parts do not signify the same things. Therefore, properly speaking, none of these is a definition explaining the meaning of the name. For instance, ‘angel’ is a purely absolute name, at least if it means the substance and not the office of an angel. This name has not some one definition expressing the meaning of the term. For someone may explain the signification of the name by saying: ‘I understand by “angel’’ a substance which exists without matter’; another thus: ‘An angel is an intellectual and incorruptible substance’; again another thus: ‘An angel is a simple substance which does not enter into any composition with anything else’. And what is signified by this name is explained just as well by the one as by the other definition. Nevertheless, not every term in each of these sentences signifies something that is signified in the same manner by a similar term in each of the other sentences. For this reason, none is, strictly speaking, a definition expressing the meaning of the name. And so it is with many names that are purely absolute. Strictly speaking, none of them has a definition expressing the meaning of the names. Names like the following are of this kind: ‘man’, ‘animal’, ‘goat’, ‘stone’, ‘tree’, ‘fire’, ‘earth’, ‘water’, ‘sky’, ‘whiteness’, ‘blackness’, ‘heat’, ‘sweetness’, ‘odor’, ‘taste’, and so on.
A connotative name, however, is that which signifies something primarily and something else secondarily. Such a name has, properly speaking, a definition expressing the meaning of the name. In such a definition it is often necessary to put one of its terms in the nominative case and something else in an oblique case. This holds, for instance, for the name ‘white’. For it has a definition expressing the meaning of the name in which one expression is put in the nominative case, and another in an oblique case. When you ask, therefore, ‘What does the name “white” signify?’ you will answer: ‘It signifies the same as the entire phrase “5omething that is qualified by whiteness”, or “Something that has whiteness”.’ It is manifest that one part of this phrase is put in the nominative case and another in the oblique case. Sometimes it may happen that a verb appears in the definition expressing the meaning of the name. If; for instance, it is asked ‘What does the name “cause” signify?’ it can be answered that it means the same as the phrase ‘Something whose existence is followed by the existence of something else’, or ‘Something that can produce something else’, or the like.
Such connotative names include all the concrete names of the first kind, mentioned in Chapter V, because such concrete names signify one thing in the nominative case and something else in the oblique case; that is to say, in the definition expressing the meaning of the name, one term signifying one thing must be put in the nominative case, and another term signifying another thing must be put in the oblique case. That becomes evident as regards all such names as ‘just’, ‘white’, ‘animated’, ‘human’ and the like.
Also to this type belong all relative names. For their definition has to contain distinct parts which either signify the same thing in different ways, or signify distinct things; this is evident as regards the name ‘similar’. For if ‘similar’ is defined, we have to say ‘The similar is something that has such a quality as another thing has’, or some such definition. However, it does not matter which examples we take.
From this it becomes clear that the common name ‘connotative’ is a higher genus than the name ‘relative’, at least if we take the common noun ‘connotative’ in its broadest sense. For such names include all names pertaining to the genus of quantity, according to those who maintain that quantity is not a different thing from substance and quality. Thus, for them, ‘body’ has to be considered a connotative name. Hence, according to them, it must be said that a body is nothing else but a thing which has part distant from part in length, breadth and height, and a continuous and permanent quantity is a thing which has part distant from part. This, then, would be a definition expressing the meaning of the name. In consequence, these people have also to maintain that ‘figure’ or ‘shape’, ‘curvature’, ‘straightness’, ‘length’, ‘height’, and the like are connotative names. Further, those who maintain that everything is either a substance or a quality, have to suppose also that all terms contained in the categories other than substance and quality are connotative names, and also some of the genus quality are connotative names, as will be shown later on.
To this group of names belong also such terms as ‘true’, ‘good’, ‘one’, ‘potency’, ‘act’, ‘intellect’, ‘intelligible’, ‘will’, ‘willable’ and the like. The word ‘intellect’, for instance, has the meaning: ‘Intellect is soul able to understand’. Thus the soul is signified by the nominative case and the act of understanding by the rest of the phrase. The name ‘intelligible’ is also a connotative term. It signifies the intellect, both in the nominative and in the oblique case, since its definition is this: ‘The intelligible is something that can be apprehended by the intellect’. In this definition the intellect is signified by the name ‘something’, and also by the oblique case ‘by the intellect’. The same must be said of ‘true’ and ‘good’; for ‘true’, which is convertible or co-extensive with ‘being’, signifies the same as intelligible’. Likewise ‘good’, which is co-extensive with ‘being’, signifies the same as the phrase ‘Something which can be willed and loved according to right reason’.
We have thus given the divisions that apply both to terms which signify naturally and to those which are made by convention; we have now to say something about certain divisions which concern only terms made by convention.
A first division is this: Some of the conventional names are names of first imposition and some are names of second imposition. Names of second imposition are names which are applied to signify conventional signs, and also what goes with such signs, but only as long as they are signs.
But the general term ‘name of second imposition’ can be taken in two senses; one broad, the other strict. In a broad sense a name of second imposition is one that signifies utterances conventionally used, but only as long as they have this conventional use, whether or not such a name be also shared by mental contents, which are natural signs. Such names are ‘noun’, ‘pronoun’, ‘verb’, ‘conjunction’, ‘case’, ‘number’, ‘tense’ and the like, when used as the grammarian understands them. These names are called names of names, because they are applied only to signify parts of speech, and only as long as these are significative. For names which are predicated of words both when they are significant and when they are not are not called names of second imposition.
Hence such names as ‘quality’, ‘spoken,’ ‘utterance’ and the like, are not names of second imposition, though they signify conventional utterances, since they would signify them even if they were not significant as they now are. But ‘noun’ is a name of second imposition, since neither the word ‘man’ nor any other word was a noun before it was employed to signify. Likewise ‘man’s’ was of no case, before it was used to signify what it does. The same holds good for the other words of this kind.
In the strict sense, however, ‘name of the second imposition ‘is that which signifies only a conventional sign, and therefore does not refer to mental contents, which are natural signs. Such names are ‘figure’, ‘conjugation’ and the like. All other names that are not names of second imposition in one or the other way, are called names of first imposition.
‘Name of first imposition’, however, can be taken in two senses. In a broad sense all names not of second imposition are names of first imposition. Thus all such syncategorematic signs as ‘every’, ‘none’, ‘some’, ‘any’ and the like, are names of first imposition. In a strict sense, however, only categorematic names not of second imposition are called names of first imposition, and not syncategorematic names.
Names of first imposition, in the strict sense, are of two classes. Some are names of first intention, others of’ second intention. Names of second intention are those nouns which are used precisely to signify mental concepts, which are natural signs, and also other conventional signs, or what goes with such signs. All the following are of this kind: ‘genus’, ‘species’, ‘universal’, ‘predicable’ and the like. For such names signify only mental contents, which are natural signs, or conventional signs.
Hence it can be said that this common term, ‘name of second intention’, can be taken strictly or broadly. Broadly speaking, that is said to be a name of second intention which signifies mental contents that are natural signs, whether or not it also signifies conventional signs for just such time as they function as signs. In this sense some names of first imposition and second intention are also names of second imposition. Strictly speaking, however, that only is called a name of second intention which precisely signifies mental contents that are natural signs. In this sense no name of second intention is a name of first imposition.
Names of first intention, on the other hand, are all names that differ from the former; that is, they signify some things which neither are signs nor go with such signs, as for instance, ‘man’, ‘animal’, ‘Socrates’, ‘Plato’, ‘whiteness’, ‘white’, ‘true’, ‘good’ and the like. Some signify precisely things that are not signs able to stand for other things; some signify such signs and other things as well.
From all this it may be gathered that certain names precisely signify conventional signs, but only as long as they are signs; some signify both natural and conventional signs; some, however, signify only those things which are not such signs, which are parts of propositions; some indifferently signify both things which are not parts of propositions or speech, and also such signs; of this kind are the following names: ‘thing’, ‘being’, ‘something’, ‘one’ and the like.
Nicolaus was born around 1300 at
Autrecourt, near Bar-le-Duc, in
Nicolaus' philosophical theories
early aroused determined op-position. There is extant a letter from Pope
Benedict XII to the Bishop of Paris, dated 1340, in which the Pope directed the
Bishop to see that Nicolaus, along with several
others, put in an appearance at Avignon to explain certain questionable views.
Owing to the death of Benedict XII, Nicolaus' hearing
dragged on until it was reopened by Benedict's successor, Clement VI. Nicolaus, apparently anticipating the worst, fled
The most noteworthy of Nicolaus' few surviving writings are his first two letters to Bernard of Arezzo, one of his most trenchant critics. These letters--reprinted below in their entirety--contain
such a powerful critique of the notions of causality and substance that they have led a recent scholar to dub Nicolaus "the medieval Hume."
With all the reverence which I am obligated to show to you, most amiable Father Bernard, by reason of the worthiness of the Friars, I wish in this present communication to explain some doubts--indeed, as it seems to some of us, some obvious contradictions--which appear to follow from the things you say, so that, by their resolution, the truth may be more clearly revealed to me and to others. For I read, in a certain book on which you lectured in the Franciscan school, the following propositions which you conceded, to whoever wished to uphold them, as true. The first, which is set forth by you in the first book of the Sentences, Dist. 3, Qu. 4, is this: "Clear intuitive cognition is that by which we judge a thing to exist, whether it exists or does not exist. Your second proposition, which is set forth in the same place as above, is of this sort: The inference, 'An object does not exist, therefore it is not seen' is not valid; nor does this hold, 'This is seen, therefore this exists'; indeed both are invalid, just as these inferences, 'Caesar is thought of, therefore Caesar exists,' 'Caesar does not exist, therefore he is not thought of.' The third proposition, stated in that same place, is this: Intuitive cognition does not necessarily require the existing thing."[3]
From these propositions I infer a fourth, that every awareness which we have of the existence of objects outside our minds, can be false; since, according to you it [the awareness] can exist whether or not the object exists. And I infer another fifth proposition, which is this: By natural cognitive means [in lumine naturali] we cannot be certain when our awareness of the existence of external objects is true or false; because, as you say, it represents the thing as existing, whether or not it exists. And thus, since whoever admits the antecedent must concede the consequent which is inferred from that antecedent by a formal consequence, it follows that you do not have evident certitude of the existence of external objects.[4]And likewise you must concede all the things which follow from this. But it is clear that you do not have evident certitude of the existence of objects of the senses, because no one has certitude of any consequent through an inference which manifestly involves a fallacy. But such is the case here; for according to you, this is a fallacy, "Whiteness is seen, therefore whiteness exists."
But you will perhaps say, as I think you wished to suggest in a certain disputation over at the Preaching Friars', that although from the fact of seeing it cannot be inferred, when that seeing is produced or conserved by a supernatural cause, that the seen object exists, nevertheless when it is produced precisely by natural causes--with only the general concurrence of the First Agent--then it can be inferred.
But to the contrary: When from some antecedent, if produced by some agent, a certain consequent cannot be inferred by a formal and evident inference, then from that antecedent, no matter by what thing it be produced, that consequent cannot be inferred. This proposition is clear, by example and by reason. By example in this way: If, whiteness being posited as existing by the agency of A, it could not be formally inferred "Whiteness exists, therefore color exists," then this could not be inferred no matter by what agency the whiteness be p05ited as existing. It is also clear by reason, because the antecedent is not in itself modified by whatever it is that causes it to be--nor is the fact which is signified by that antecedent.
Further, since from that antecedent it cannot be inferred evidently by way of intuitive cognition, "therefore whiteness exists," we must then add something to that antecedent-namely, what you suggested above, that the [vision of] whiteness is not produced or conserved in existence supernaturally. But from this my contention is clearly established. For when a person is not certain of some consequent, unless in virtue of some antecedent of which he is not evidently certain whether or not the case is as it states it to be-because it is not known by the meaning of its terms, nor by experience, nor is it inferred from such knowledge, but is only believed
--such a person is not evidently certain of the consequent. It is clear that this is so, if that antecedent is considered together with its condition; therefore etc.[5]On the other hand, according to your position, whoever makes the inference from that antecedent without adding that condition, makes an invalid inference--as was the case with the philosophers, and Aristotle, and other people who did not add this condition to the antecedent, because they did not believe that God could impede the effects of natural causes.
Again, I ask you if you are acquainted with all natural causes, and know which of them exist and which are possible, and how much they can do. And I ask how you know evidently, by evidence reducible to that of the law of contradiction, that there is anything such that its coming to pass does not involve contradiction and which nevertheless can only be brought to pass by God? On these questions I would gladly be given certitude of the kind indicated.
Again, you say that an imperfect intuitive cognition can be had in natural manner, of a non-existent thing.[6]I now ask how you are certain (with the certitude defined above) when your intuitive cognition is of a sufficiently perfect degree such that it cannot naturally be of a non-existent thing. And I would gladly be instructed about this.
Thus, it is clear, it seems to me, that as a consequence of your statements you have to say that you are not certain of the existence of the objects of the five senses. But what is even harder to uphold, you must say that you are not certain of your own actions- e.g., that you are seeing, or hearing--indeed you must say that you are not sure that anything is perceived by you, or has been perceived by you. For, in the Sentences, Book I, Dist. 3, in the place above cited, you say that your intellect does not have intuitive cognition of your actions. And you prove it by this argument: Every intuitive cognition is clear; but the cognition which your intellect has of your acts, is not clear; therefore etc. Now, on this assumption, I argue thus: The intellect which is not certain of the existence of things of which it has the clearest cognition, will not be certain concerning those things of which it has a less clear cognition. But, as was said, you are not certain of the existence of objects of which you have a clearer cognition than you have of your own acts; therefore etc.
And if you say that sometimes some abstractive cognition[7] is as clear as an intuitive cognition - e.g., that every whole is greater than its part-this will not help you, because you explicitly say that the cognition which we have of our own acts is not as clear as intuitive cognition; and yet intuitive cognition, at least that which is imperfect, is not naturally of evident certainty. This is clear from what you say. And thus it follows evidently, that you are not certain of what appears evident to you, and consequently you are not certain whether anything appears to you.
And it also follows that you are not certain whether any proposition is true or false, because you are not evidently certain whether any proposition exists, or has existed. Indeed it follows that if you were asked whether or not you believed some articles of the Faith, you would have to say, "I do not know," because, according to your position, you could not be certain of your own act of believing. And I confirm this, because, if you were certain of your act of believing, this would either be from that very act itself, in which case the direct and reflective act would be identical[8]--which you will not admit-or else it would be by some other act, and in that case, according to your position, you would in the same way be uncertain, because there would then be no more contradiction than that the seeing of whiteness existed and the whiteness did not exist, etc.
And so, bringing all these statements together, it seems that you must say that you are not certain of those things which are outside of you. And thus you do not know if you are in the heavens or on the earth, in fire or in water; and consequently you do not know whether today's sky is the same one as yesterday's, because you do not know whether the sky exists. Just as you do not know whether the Chancellor or the Pope exists, and whether, if they exist, they are different in each moment of time. Similarly, you do not know the things within you-as, whether or not you have a beard, a head, hair, and so forth. And a fortiori it follows from this that you are not certain of the things which occurred in the past--as, whether you have been reading, or seeing, or hearing. Further, your position seems to lead to the destruction of social and political affairs, because if witnesses testify of what they have seen, it does not follow, "We have seen it, therefore it happened." Again, I ask how, on this view, the Apostles were certain that Christ suffered on the cross, and that He rose from the dead, and so with all the rest.
I wish that your mind would express itself on all these questions, and I wonder very much how you can say that you are evidently certain of various conclusions which are more obscure-such as concern the existence of the Prime Mover, and the like-when you are not certain about these things which I have mentioned. Again, it is strange how, on your assumptions, you believe that you have shown that a cognition is distinct from what is cognized, when you are not certain, according to your position, that any cognition exists or that any propositions exist, and consequently that any contradictory propositions exist; since, as I have shown, you do not have certainty of the existence of your own acts, or of your own mind, and do not know whether it exists. And, as it seems to me, the absurdities which follow on the position of the Academics, follow on your position. And so, in order to avoid such absurdities, I maintained in my disputation at the Sorbonne, that I am evidently certain of the objects of the five senses, and of my own acts.
I think of these objections, and of so many others, that there is no end to them, against what you say. I pray you, Father, to instruct me who, however stupid, am nevertheless desirous of reaching knowledge of the truth. May you abide in Him, who is the light, and in whom there is no darkness.
The known facts concerning Jean Buridan's life and career
are extremely sparse. He seems to have been born at
After William Ockham, philosophy as such became strongly oriented to the positive sciences and the mathematical disciplines. According to the estimates of modern scholars, Buridan was responsible for originating or developing some of the most essential ideas of the modern scientific tradition. The selection below, in which Buridan deals with special problems in dynamics. kinematics, and celestial mechanics, will provide the reader solid evidence of Buridan's scientific interest and genius.
I. BOOK VIII, QUESTION 12. It is sought whether a projectile after leaving the hand of the projector is moved by the air, or by what it is moved.
It is argued that it is not moved by the air, because the air seems rather to resist, since it is necessary that it be divided. Furthermore, if you say that the projector in the beginning moved the projectile and the ambient air along with it, and then that air, having been moved, moves the projectile further to such and such a distance, the doubt will return as to by what the air is moved after the projectile ceases to move. For there is just as much difficulty regarding this (the air) as there is regarding the stone which is thrown.
Aristotle takes the opposite position in the eighth [book] of this work (the Physics) thus: "Projectiles are moved further after the projectors are no longer in contact with them, either by antiperistasis, as some say, or by the fact that the air having been pushed, pushes with a movement swifter than the movement of impulsion by which it (the body) is carried towards its own [natural] place." He determines the same thing in the seventh and eighth [books] of this work (the Physics) and in the third [book] of the De caelo.
2. This question I judge to be very difficult because Aristotle, as it seems to me, has not solved it well. For he touches on two opinions. The first one, which he calls "antiperistasis," holds that the projectile swiftly leaves the place in which it was, and nature, not permitting a vacuum, rapidly sends air in behind to fill up the vacuum. The air moved swiftly in this way and impinging upon the projectile impels it along further. This is repeated continually up to a certain distance. . . . But such a solution notwithstanding, it seems to me that this method of proceeding was without value because of many experiences (experientie).
The first experience concerns the top (trocus) and the smith's mill (i.e. wheel-mola fabri) which are moved for a long time and yet do not leave their places. Hence, it is not necessary for the air to follow along to fill up the place of departure of a top of this kind and a smith's mill. So it cannot be said [that the top and the smith's mill are moved by the air] in this manner.
The second experience is this: A lance having a conical posterior as sharp as its anterior would be moved after projection just as swiftly as it would be without a sharp conical posterior. But surely the air following could not push a sharp end in this way, because the air would be easily divided by the sharpness.
The third experience is this: a ship drawn swiftly in the river even against the flow of the river, after the drawing has ceased, cannot be stopped quickly, but continues to move for a long time. And yet a sailor on deck does not feel any air from behind pushing him. He feels only the air from the front resisting [him]. Again, suppose that the said ship were loaded with grain or wood and a man were situated to the rear of the cargo. Then if the air were of such an impetus that it could push the ship along so strongly, the man would be pressed very violently between that cargo and the air following it. Experience shows this to be false. Or, at least, if the ship were loaded with grain or straw, the air following and pushing would fold over (plico) the stalks which were in the rear. This is all false.
3. Another opinion, which Aristotle seems to approve, is that the projector moves the air adjacent to the projectile [simultaneously] with the projectile and that air moved swiftly has the power of moving the projectile. He does not mean by this that the same air is moved from the place of projection to the place where the projectile stops, but rather that the air
joined to the projector is moved by the projector and that air having been moved moves another part of the air next to it, and that [part] moves another (i.e., the next) up to a certain distance. Hence the first air moves the projectile into the second air, and the second [air moves it] into the third air, and so on. Aristotle says, therefore, that there is not one mover but many in turn. Hence he also concludes that the movement is not continuous but consists of succeeding or contiguous entities.
But this opinion and method certainly seems to me equally as impossible as the opinion and method of the preceding view. For this method cannot solve the problem of how the top or smith's mill is turned after the hand [which sets them into motion] has been removed. Because, if you cut off the air on all sides near the smith's mill by a cloth (linteamine), the mill does not on this account stop but continues to move for a long time. Therefore it is not moved by the air.
Also a ship drawn swiftly is moved a long time after the haulers have stopped pulling it. The surrounding air does not move it, because if it were covered by a cloth and the cloth with the ambient air were withdrawn, the ship would not stop its motion on this account. And even if the ship were loaded with grain or straw and were moved by the ambient air, then that air ought to blow exterior stalks toward the front. But the contrary is evident, for the stalks are blown rather to the rear because of the resisting ambient air.
Again, the air, regardless of how fast it moves, is easily divisible. Hence it is not evident as to how it would sustain a stone of weight of one thousand pounds projected in a sling or in a machine.
Furthermore, you could, by pushing your hand, move the adjacent air, if there is nothing in your hand, just as fast or faster than if you were holding in your hand a stone which you wish to project. If, therefore, that air by reason of the velocity of its motion is of a great enough impetus to move the stone swiftly, it seems that if I were to impel air toward you equally as fast, the air ought to push you impetuously and with sensible strength. [Yet] we would not perceive this.
Also, it follows that you would throw a feather farther than a stone and something less heavy farther than something heavier, assuming equal magnitudes and shapes. Experience shows this to be false. The consequence is manifest, for the air having been moved ought to sustain or carry or move a feather more easily than something heavier. . . .
4. Thus we can and ought to say that in the stone or other projectile there is impressed something which is the motive force (virtus motiva) of that projectile. And this is evidently better than falling back on the statement that the air continues to move that projectile. For the air appears rather to resist. Therefore, it seems to me that it ought to be said that the motor in moving a moving body impresses (imprimit) in it a certain impetus (impetus) or a certain motive force (vis motiva) of the moving body, [which impetus acts] in the direction toward which the mover was moving the moving body, either up or down, or laterally, or circularly. And by tile amount the motor moves that moving body more swiftly, by the same amount it will impress in it a stronger impetus. It is by that impetus that the stone is moved after the projector ceases to move. But that impetus is continually decreased (remittitur) by the resisting air and by the gravity of the stone, which inclines it in a direction contrary to that in which the impetus was naturally predisposed to move it. Thus the movement of the stone continually becomes slower, and finally that impetus is so diminished or corrupted that the gravity 6f the stone wins out over it and moves the stone down to its natural place.
This method, it appears to me, ought to be supported because the other methods do not appear to be true and also because all the appearances (apparentia) are in harmony with this method.
5. For if anyone seeks why I project a stone farther than a feather, and iron or lead fitted to my hand farther than just as much wood, I answer that the cause of this is that the reception of all forms and natural dispositions is in matter and by reason of matter. Hence by the amount more there is of matter, by that amount can the body receive more of that impetus and more intensely (intensius). Now in a dense and heavy body, other things being equal, there is more of prime matter than in a rare and light one. Hence a dense and heavy body receives more of that impetus and more intensely, just as iron can receive more calidity than wood or water of the same quantity. Moreover, a feather receives such an impetus so weakly (remisse) that such an impetus is immediately destroyed by the resisting air. And so also if light wood and heavy iron of the same volume and of the same shape are moved equally fast by a projector, the iron will be moved farther because there is impressed in it a more intense impetus, which is not so quickly corrupted as the lesser impetus would be corrupted. This also is the reason why it is more difficult to bring to rest a large smith's mill which is moving swiftly than a small one, evidently because in the large one, other things being equal, there is more impetus. And for this reason you could throw a stone of one-half or one pound weight farther than you could a thousandth part of it. For the impetus in that thousandth part is so small that it is overcome immediately by the resisting air.
6. From this theory also appears the cause of why the natural motion of a heavy body downward is continually celerated (continue velocitatur). For from the beginning only the gravity was moving it Therefore, it moved more slowly, but in moving it impressed' in the heavy body an impetus. This impetus now [acting] together with its gravity moves it. Therefore, the motion becomes faster; and by the amount it is faster, so the impetus becomes more intense. Therefore, the movement evidently becomes continually faster.
[The impetus then also explains why] one who wishes to jump a long distance drops back a way in order to run faster, so that by running he might acquire an impetus which would carry him a longer distance in the jump. Whence the person so running and jumping does not feel the air moving him, but [rather] feels the air in front strongly resisting him.
Also, since the Bible does not state that appropriate intelligences move the celestial bodies, it could be said that it does not appear necessary to posit intelligences of this kind, because it would be answered that God, when He created the world , moved each of the celestial orbs as He pleased, and in moving them He impressed in them impetuses which moved them without His having to move them any more except by the method of general influence whereby He concurs as a co-agent in all things which take place; "for thus on the seventh day He rested from all work which He had executed by committing to others the actions and the passions in turn." And these impetuses which He impressed in the celestial bodies were not decreased nor corrupted afterwards, because there was no inclination of the celestial bodies for other movements. Nor was there resistance which would be corruptive or repressive of that impetus. But this I do not say assertively, but [rather tentatively] so that I might seek from the theological masters what they might teach me in these matters as to how these things take place. . . .
7. The first [conclusion] is that that impetus is not the very local motion in which the projectile is moved, because that impetus moves the projectile and the mover produces motion. Therefore, the impetus produces that motion, and the same thing cannot produce itself. Therefore, etc.
Also since every motion arises from a motor being present and existing simultaneously with that which is moved, if the impetus were the motion, it would be necessary to assign some other motor from which that motion would arise. And the principal difficulty would return. Hence there would be no gain in positing such an impetus. But others cavil when they say that the prior part of the motion which produces the projection produces another part of the motion which is related successively and that produces another part and so on up to the cessation of the whole movement. But this is not probable, because the "producing something" ought to exist when the something is made, but the prior part of the motion does not exist when the posterior part exists, as was elsewhere stated. Hence, neither does the prior exist when the posterior is made. This consequence is obvious from this reasoning. For it was said elsewhere that motion is nothing else than "the very being produced" (ipsum fieri) and the "very being corrupted" (ipsum corumpi). Hence motion does not result when it has been produced (factus est) but when it is being produced (fit).
8. The second conclusion is that that impetus is not a purely successive thing (res), because motion is just such a thing and the definition of motion [as a successive thing] is fitting to it, as was stated elsewhere. And now it has just been affirmed that that impetus is not the local motion.
Also, since a purely successive thing is continually corrupted and produced, it continually demands a producer. But there cannot be assigned a producer of that impetus which would continue to be simultaneous with it.
9. The third conclusion is that that impetus is a thing of permanent nature (res nature permanentis), distinct from the local motion in which the projectile is moved. This is evident from the two aforesaid conclusions and from the preceding [statements]. And it is probable (verisimile) that that impetus is a quality naturally present and predisposed for moving a body in which it is impressed, just as it is said that a quality impressed in iron by a magnet moves the iron to the magnet. And it also is probable that just as that quality (the impetus) is impressed in the moving body along with the motion by the motor; so with the motion it is remitted, corrupted, or impeded by resistance or a contrary inclination.
10. And in the same way that a luminant generating light generates light reflexively because of an obstacle, so that impetus because of an obstacle acts reflexively. It is true, however, that other causes aptly concur with that impetus for greater or longer reflection. For example, the ball which we bounce with the palm in falling to earth is reflected higher than a stone, although the stone falls more swiftly and more impetuously (impetuosius) to the earth. This is because many things are curvable or intracompressible by violence which are innately disposed to return swiftly and by themselves to their correct position or to the disposition natural to them. In thus returning, they can impetuously push or draw something conjunct to them, as is evident in the case of the bow (arcus). Hence in this way the ball thrown to the hard ground is compressed into itself by the impetus of its motion; and immediately after striking, it returns swiftly to its sphericity by elevating itself upward. From this elevation it acquires to itself an impetus which moves it upward a long distance.
Also, it is this way with a cither cord which, put under strong tension and percussion, remains a long time in a certain vibration (tremulatio) from which its sound continues a notable time. And this takes place as follows: As a result of striking [the chord] swiftly, it is bent violently in one direction, and so it returns swiftly toward its normal straight position. But on account of the impetus, it crosses beyond the normal straight position in the contrary direction and then again returns. It does this many times. For a similar reason a bell (campana), after the ringer ceases to draw [the chord], is moved a long time, first in one direction, now in another. And it cannot be easily and quickly brought to rest.
This, then, is the exposition of the question. I would be delighted if someone would discover a more probable way of answering it. And this is the end.
[1]Translated especially for
this volume by H. Shapiro from the edition of J. Koch, published by Marquette
University Press in 1944 under the title Giles of
[2] Translation and notes by Professor Ernest A. Moody of the
[3] Bernard's definition of "clear intuitive
cognition," as that by which we judge a thing to exist. whether or not it does in fact exist, is not the definition
given by William of Ockham, though a number of historians have failed to
appreciate this point. Ockham defines intuitive cognition in the following way:
"Intuitive cognition of a thing is cognition that enables us to know
whether the thing exists or does not exist, in such a way that, if die thing
exists, then the intellect immediately judges that it exists and evidently
knows that it exists, unless the judgment happens to be impeded through the
imperfection of this cognition. And in the same way, if the divine power were to conserve a perfect intuitive cognition of a
thing no longer existent, in virtue of this non-complex knowledge the intellect
would know evidently that this thing does not exist." (Translation
from Ockham's Ordinatio, Prologue, Qu. 1, by Philotheus Boehner, Ockham: Philosophical
Writings, Edinburgh, 1957, p. 23.) Whereas Bernard of Arezzo defines intuitive cognition in such manner that it
can yield a false judgment, Ockham defines it in such a way that it cannot
yield a false judgment; thus Ockham's definition does not entail the skeptical
consequences that Nicolaus of Autrecourt
finds in the definition of Bernard.
[4]
In
fourteenth-century logic, a consequence is a conditional proposition of
the form "If p, then q" (or, alternatively, "p, therefore
q"); the protasis of the conditional was called
the antecedent, and the apodasis the consequent
(not the consequence, which designates the conditional as a whole).
The medieval logic of consequentiae, corresponding
to the modern sentential calculus, but normally interpreted in terms of
entailment rather than in terms of truth-functions, is used regularly by Nicolaus of Autrecourt in his
arguments against Bernard of Arezzo in these letters.
Cf. Ernest A. Moody, Truth and Consequence in Mediaeval Logic,
[5] Bernard has argued that the inference "A is seen, therefore A
exists" is valid on the assumption that God is not interfering with the
natural causal relation between existing visible objects and acts of seeing
them. But since we can never know, in any particular case, whether God is or is
not interfering with the course of nature, Nicolaus
argues that the above inference is never valid. Given three propositions, p, q,
and r, we may concede the statement "If p, then if q then r," but if
we cannot know whether p is true or false, we cannot know whether "if q
then r" is valid or invalid.
[6] The distinction between "imperfect intuitive
cognition" and "clear intuitive cognition is equivalent to the
distinction between memory and direct perception. Ockham held that
direct perception (or "clear intuitive cognition") was infallible,
but admitted that memory (or "imperfect intuitive cognition") might
be mistaken.
[7] Abstractive cognition is defined by Ockham (and presumably by Bernard
and Nicolaus as well) as "that knowledge by
which it cannot be evidently known whether a contingent fact exists or does not
exist" (Ph. Boehner, op. cit., p.23).All judgments not based on
immediate perception, including all general or "universal"
statements, were held to be based on abstractive cognition; though ultimately
abstractive cognitions arise from intuitive cognitions.
[8] The distinction between the "direct act" (actus rectus) and the "reflective act" (actus reflexus) corresponds to the distinction between the
act of knowing or believing expressed in the sentence "A is B," and
the act of knowing or believing expressed in the sentence "I know (or I believe)
that A is B" Ockham, and most fourteenth-century philosophers (as well as
St. Thomas Aquinas), held that the direct and the reflective act are not
identical and do not have the same objects.
[9] Reprinted with the permission of the copyright owners, the Regents of
the