I. SUPPOSITION AND SIGNIFICATION

In an insightful article on the medieval theory of supposition, Elizabeth Karger noted a remarkable development in the characterization of the material mode of supposition between William of Ockham and his contemporaries in the early fourteenth century and Paul of Venice and others at the turn of the fifteenth century.1. E. Karger, “La Supposition Materielle comme Supposition Significative: Paul de Venise, Paul de Pergula,” in A. Maierú, ed., English Logic in Italy in the 14th and 15th Centuries (Naples, 1982), pp. 331–41. For William, material supposition is explicitly ‘non-significative’, while for Paul, every mode of supposition is a kind of signification.2. Paul of Venice, Logica Magna (Tractatus de Suppositionibus), ed. and trans. A. Perreiah (St. Bonaventure, 1971), p. 4: “nam omnis suppositio est significatio.” In particular, we can set these definitions in opposition:

Augustine is notorious for his claim that the so-called virtues of pagans are not genuine virtues at all. Bayle refers to this claim when he describes the sort of virtue that one ought to be willing to attribute to atheists:

Students of later medieval semantics are familiar with the controversy that developed at the end of the thirteenth century over the signification of names. The debate focused on the signification of common nouns such as ‘man’ and ‘animal’: Do they signify an extramental thing or a mental representation of an extramental thing?Some authors at the end of the thirteenth century also discussed another question concerning what names signify, that is, whether they signify the composite of matter and form or only the form of the composite. This second debate will not be considered in this article. Duns Scotus is commonly recognized as having played an important role in this debate.See Costantino Marmo, “Ontology and Semantics in the Logic of Duns Scotus,” in Umberto Eco and Costantino Marmo, ed., On Medieval Theory of Signs, (Amsterdam and Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 1989), pp. 161–63; and esp. Dominik Perler, “Duns Scotus on Signification,” Medieval Philosophy and Theology 3 (1993): 97–120. On the topic in general, see Paul Vincent Spade, “The Semantics of Terms,” in N. Kretzmann, A. Kenny, J. Pinborg, eds., The Cambridge History of Later Medieval Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge U.P., 1982), pp. 188–90; Jan Pinborg, “Bezeichnung in der Logik des XIII. Jahrhunderts,” in Albert Zimmermann, ed., Der Begriff der Repraesentatio im Mittelalter, Miscellanea Mediaevalia 8 (Berlin and New York: de Gruyter, 1971): 238–81; Elizabeth J. Ashworth, “Signification and Modes of Signifying in Thirteenth-Century Logic: A Preface to Aquinas on Analogy,” Medieval Philosophy and Theology 1 (1991): 43–53; Claude Panaccio, “From Mental Word to Mental Language,” Philosophical Topics 20 (1992): 125–47. In his Ordinatio, he alludes to a magna altercatio among his contemporaries concerning signification.John Duns Scotus, Ordinatio 1.27.1–3 n.83, in Commissio Scotistica, ed, Opera omnia 6 (Vatican City: Typis Polyglottis, 1963), p. 97. What is more, he gives, in his two commentaries on Aristotle’s Peri hermeneias, a detailed and fair analysis of the two contrasting positions on this issue.John Duns Scotus, Super Peri hermeneias 1.2, and Super Peri hermeneias 2.1, in Opera omnia 1 (Paris: L. Vivès, 1891), pp. 540–44, 582–85. Scotus’s logical commentaries are usually thought to have been composed before his theological writings, in the last decade of the thirteenth century.

At the close of his discussion of time in Book 11 of the Confessions (397– 401), Augustine abandons his empirical inquiry for an impassioned prayer. He writes:

The growing sophistication of philosophical speculation together with the increasingly contentious claims of the thirteenth-century masters of Arts and Theology is reflected in the literary career of Robert Kilwardby. As a young Parisian Arts master, Kilwardby devoted much of his energy to explaining the works of Aristotle, recently introduced into the University’s curriculum. Although particularly interested in the logical treatises, Kilwardby most likely commented upon the so-called ‘Ethica vetus et nova’, which were part of the Arts curriculum in the first half of the thirteenth century. Kilwardby’s commentary, while quickly superseded by the more complicated questions on the entire Ethics, represents an extremely important transitional phase in the understanding of Aristotle’s moral philosophy. Kilwardby’s careful reading of Aristotle’s text allowed him to reject the usual religious interpretation of his contemporaries. His awareness of the limitations of moral science marks a decisive step away from the earlier reading of the Nicomachean Ethics (EN), which viewed Aristotle’s doctrine of the human good to be identical with the religious ideal of union with God. As a result, Kilwardby’s commentary on the EN demonstrated how Aristotle’s ethics could no longer be understood as a slight variant of Christian moral theology.

In this article I wish to re-examine the vexed issue of the possibility of idealism in ancient and medieval philosophy with particular reference to the case of Johannes Scottus Eriugena (c. 800–c. 877), the Irish Neoplatonic Christian philosopher. Both Bernard Williams and Myles Burnyeat have argued that idealism never emerged (and for Burnyeat, could not have emerged) as a genuine philosophical position in antiquity, a claim that has had wide currency in recent years, and now constitutes something of an orthodoxy.1. Myles Burnyeat, “Idealism and Greek Philosophy: What Descartes Saw and Berkeley Missed,” Philosophical Review 91 (1982): 3–40, repr. in Godfrey Vesey, ed., Idealism—Past and Present (Cambridge: Cambridge U.P., 1982), pp. 19–50. Hereafter this essay will be cited in the version printed in Vesey, ed. Richard Sorabji (instancing Gregory of Nyssa) and Werner Beierwaltes (citing Proclus and Eriugena), and Eyjólfur Kjalar Emilsson (discussing Plotinus), on the other hand, have all argued that idealism is to be found in the Neoplatonic tradition, a tradition neglected by Burnyeat.Richard Sorabji, “Gregory of Nyssa: The Origins of Idealism,” in Time, Creation and Continuum. Theories in Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (London: Duckworth, 1983), pp. 287–96; Werner Beierwaltes, Denken des Einen. Studien zur neuplatonischen Philosophie and ihrer Wirkungsgeschichte (Frankfurt: Klostermann, 1985). See also Beierwaltes, “Die Wiederentdeckung des Eriugena im Deutschen Idealismus,” in Platonismus und Idealismus (Frankfurt: Klostermann, 1972), pp. 188–201, and his “Zur Wirkungsgeschichte Eriugenas im Deutschen Idealismus und danach. Eine kurze, unsystematische Nachlese,” in Eriugena. Grundzüge seines Denkens (Frankfurt: Klostermann, 1994), pp. 313–330. Eyjólfur Kjalar Emilsson, “Cognition and its Object,” in Lloyd P. Gerson, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Plotinus (Cambridge: Cambridge U.P., 1996), pp. 217–49, esp. pp. 245–49. But see, Lloyd P. Gerson, Plotinus (London: Routledge, 1994), p. 227, n.3, who maintains that Plotinus is not an idealist. Similarly, in a 1989 study, I argued not only that idealism was a genuine possibility in late classical and in medieval philosophy, but that that the ninth-century Carolingian philosopher Johannes Eriugena presents a striking example of an extremely radical, almost fantastical, idealism.Dermot Moran, The Philosophy of John Scottus Eriugena. A Study of Idealism in the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge U.P., 1989). Of course, the whole discussion depends entirely on what is meant by ‘idealism’. Burnyeat uses Berkeley’s immaterialism as his standard for idealism, and it is this decision, coupled with his failure to acknowledge the legacy of German idealism, which prevents him from seeing the classical and medieval roots of idealism more broadly understood.

INTRODUCTION

Philosophical investigations of the concept of responsibility, mirroring its most common function in ordinary language and thought, have been geared for the most part to clarifying intuitions concerning moral and legal accountability for actions. But the resurgence of interest in ethical theories concerned with human virtues has resurrected old questions about our responsibility for our character, attitudes, and emotions. The philosophical tradition that takes virtues as a central moral category has taught us to think of virtues not only as involving dispositions to actions, but also dispositions to desires and emotions. It has also taught us to think of actions as only one of the proper objects of moral evaluation, alongside, for example, motives, intentions, beliefs, desires, and emotions. So it is natural that interest in ethical theories concerned with the virtues would yield interest in responsibility for our attitudes and emotions.Robert Adams has already done much to draw our attention to the different concept of responsibility we are forced to define if we focus on our intuitions about moral accountability for emotions, attitudes, and beliefs, rather than for actions. See R. Adams, “The Virtue of Faith,” in Adams, The Virtue of Faith (Oxford University Press, 1987), pp. 9–24; and “Involuntary Sins,” Philosophical Review 94 (1985): 3–31. I disagree with his account of responsibility for such states, but I am indebted to his illuminating discussions of the topics. Thomas Aquinas, who of course is one of the most important architects of the tradition that takes virtues to be central moral categories, holds a very complex set of views about our responsibility for our emotions. My aim in this essay is to develop and explain Aquinas’s views about whether and when, why, and to what extent we can be responsible for our emotions. I hope to show, in so doing, that his view is plausible, and fits well with some of our own conflicting intuitions about the question.

The contrast between the reception of Anselm’s Proslogion in the work of Bonaventure and in the work of Thomas Aquinas is often held up as a classic example of their competing intellectual assumptions. Some have located the intellectual prerequisites for the acceptance or rejection of Anselm’s argument in the prior acceptance of univocal or analogical accounts of being.In general terms, the interpretation of Bonaventure as leader of an Augustinian tradition, and of Thomas as representative of Aristotelianism, can be found in the work of E. Gilson, A History of Christian Philosophy in the Middle Ages (London, 1978). On Bonaventure’s refinement of Anselm in the context of the Augustinian tradition, see H. R. Klocker, S.J. “Bonaventure’s Refinement of the Ontological Argument,” Mediaevilla 4 (1978): 209–23. On anological and univocal accounts of being as factors determining attitudes to Anselm’s argument, see H. J. Johnson, “Contra Anselm But Contra Gentiles: Aquinas’s Rejection of the Ontological Argument,” Schede Medievali 13 (1986): 18–27. P. A. Daniels argued that the prerequisites for Bonaventure’s acceptance of the argument were not his “ontological” mode of thought, or a doctrine of the innate idea of God within the soul, but in his acceptance of examplar causality.P. A. Daniels, Quellenbeiträge und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der Gottesbeweise im Dreizehnten Jahrhundert (Münster, 1909), pp. 131, 156. Half a century later, Jean Chattillon, following Étienne Gilson, affirmed the more common view of the issue, that the acceptance or rejection of Anselm’s argument among the first scholastics of the thirteenth century depended upon their allegiance to Augustinian or Aristotelian traditions.Jean Chattillon, “De Guillaume d’Auxerre à Saint Thomas d’Aquin: L’Argument de Saint Anselme Chez Les Premiers Scolastiques du XIIIe Siècle,” Spicilegium Beccense 1 (1959): 209–31. Anton Pegis did the same when he insisted that recovery of the Anselmian argument in its original form involved stripping away the Aristotelian framework in terms of which the Proslogion has been read since Thomas.Anton C. Pegis, “St. Anselm and the Argument of the “Proslogion”,” Medieval Studies 28 (1966): 228–67.

As an exercise in comparative philosophical theology, our approach is more concerned with conceptual strategies than with historical “influences,” although the animadversions of those versed in the history of each period will assist in reading the texts of each thinker. We need historians to make us aware of the questions to which thinkers of other ages and cultures were directing their energies, as well as the forms of thought available to them in making their response; but we philosophers hope to be able to proceed without having to arm ourselves with extensive knowledge of the surrounding milieu, trusting that others more knowledgeable will correct and extend our efforts. Our contribution should then be one of offering perspectives within which further discourse may profitably proceed, suitably challenged and amended in the course of a common inquiry. Since my familiarity is with Aquinas, and since he comes chronologically first, I shall begin with him, though there is no discernible connection between the two thinkers other than their preoccupation with establishing the primacy of existing in a metaphysical discourse which had hitherto obscured its significance.