Virtues of the will : the transformation of ethics in the late thirteenth century

VIRTUES OF THE WILL

The Transformation of Ethics in the

Late Thirteenth Century

BONNIE KENT

Columbia University

The Catholic University of America Press Washington, D.e.

Copyright © 1995

The Catholic University of America Press All rights reserved

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Kent, BonnieDorrick, 1953-

Virtues of the will : the transformation of ethics in the late thirteenth century / Bonnie Kent

p.cm. Includes bibliographical references. I. Ethics, Medieval. 2. Virtues. I Title.

BJ25I.V57K45 1995

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ISBN 0-8132-0829-7

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

I. Heroes and Histories The Golden Age of Scholasticism 5 The Golden Age

Revisited: Scholastic Ethics 19 Some Caveats 34

2. Aristotle among the Christians

3·

. Radical AIistotelians 40 Bonaventure: Collationes in

Hexaemeron 46 Waiter of Bruges 59

The Condemnation of 1277 68 Giles of Romc and

the Propositio Magistralis 79 William de la Mare 81

Peter Olivi 84 Richard of Middleton 88

IIAugustinianism" in Retrospect 91

Voluntarism From Free Decision to Free Will 98 Voluntarism in

the Late Thirteenth Century 110 The Imperial Will

as a Moved Mover II6 Freedom as Total Activity 129

The Cause Sine Qua Non 137 Freedom and Partial

Efficiency 143

vii

I

39

94

vi CONTENTS

4. Moral Weakness and the Problem of Sin Akrasia in Brief 151 The Corruption of Reason 156

Moral Weakness and Evil 174 The Advantageous

and the Just 193

5. Virtues of the Will The Aristotelian Background ~oo Stoic Sages and

Christian Saints 206 Merit and Free Decision 212

Just Actions and Ordered Emotions 216 Virtues of

the Will 224 Reconsidering Seotus 238

Conclusion

Select Bibiliography

Index

15 0

199

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The present study reflects a deal of labor by persons who might more profitably have cultivated their own gardens. I owe a large debt of gratitude to Girard Etzkorn, Douglas Langston, and Charles Larmore for their learned and constructive criticisms of an often frustrating manuscript. I am also grateful to Risto Saarinenl whose dissertation Weakness of the Will in Medieval Thought: From Augustine to Bur;idan, recently published by E. I. Brill, gave me some new insights into an enduring issue. Though my debts to various colleagues at Columbia University are too extensive to catalog, Shaughan Lavine, Mary Mothersill, and Thomas Pogge deserve special thanks for their astute philosophical comments and unfailing supportiveness. I have benefited as well from the research assistance of Robert Scott, a Columbia librarian who guides frazzled scholars through the maze of electronic data bases over which he presides.

There may be something odd about thanking teachers for being teachers, but I mean to do it anyway. Over the years, Paul Kristeller, Wayne Proudfoot, Robert Somerville, and lames Walsh have all given me the benefit of both their expertise and their patience. Without their guidance, the present study could never have been written.

Some of the issues examined in chapter 5 were discussed in "The

vii

viii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Good will According to Gerald Odonis, Duns Scotus, and William of Ockharn," Franciscan Studies 46 Ir986): II9-39. A fuller account of Aquinas's teachings on moral weakness, summarized in chapter 4, was presented in "Transitory Vice: Thomas Aquinas on Incontinence," Tournal of the History of Philosophy 271 r989): r99-223_ Part of my discussion of Maclntyre's interpretation of Aquinas, in chapter r, was included in "Moral Provincialism," Religious Studies 30 1 r994): 269-85. I thank all three journals for permission to use this materiaL Finally, I am grateful to Columbia University's Council for Research in the Humanities for a summer fellowship that enabled me to complete what had come to seem an interminable project.

VIRTUES OF THE WILL

1

HEROES AND HISTORIES

At some point in the distant past, virtue ethics was thriving, We know that philosophers investigated morally admirable traits of character, the process of acquiring them, their connection with pleasure, emotion, and human psychology in general, and their place in a flourishing human life. We know that virtue ethics is, if not entirely absent, at least changed beyond recognition in the writings of Kant. Moral character has been restricted to the good will, emotions have lost their relevance, and the ancient virtues of courage and temperance have been demoted to qualities of temperament neither good nor bad in their own right. Pleasure taken in apparently good actions has even become grounds for suspicion about the agent's character. We know, too, that Kant was to some extent reacting against Hume, and that Hume's moral theory was itself a far cry from virtue ethics in its traditional form. To understand the transformation of Western ethics we must accordingly look farther into the past.

Suppose we consider the thousand-year period that constitutes/ by convention, lImedieval" philosophy. Assuming that virtue ethics was alive and well in the works of Aquinas, we are interested

I

2 HEROES AND HISTORIES

mainly in his successors, But which successors? Which texts? Hoping to trace the fortunes of virtue ethics in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries, we seek guidance in the secondary literature.

The secondary literature turns out to have two peculiarities, which together make for a disobliging guide. One is that much of it provides a Great Man tour of history. The two great men of the thirteenth century are agreed to be Aquinasl the leading representative of the Dominicans, and Bonaventurc, the leading representative of the Franciscans. The third great man is Duns Seotus, a Franciscan active in the opening years of the fourteenth century and usually seen less as reprising Bonaventure than as paving the way for his confrere William of Ockham, the fourth great man. The tour is at once informative and frustrating. We are told that the I277 condemnation at Paris Was some sort of turning point, and that the last quarter of the thirteenth century witnessed bitter disputes about various Thomistic doctrines, but instead 'of pausing to explore the writings of this period, we are hurried along to meet the next great man. We mOVe from the deaths of Aquinas and Bonaventure in I274 to Scotus's inception as a master around I3051 with little more than a glance in the direction of masters dominant during the supposed period of crisis.

Thanks to the work of Raymond Macken Ion Henry of Ghent), John Wippel Ion Godfrey of Fontaines), and Robert Wielockx Ion Giles of Rome), the last quarter of the thirteenth century is gradually becoming less of a philosophical interregnum.2. A deal more, however, needs to be known, not only because the philosophical dialogue of this period is intriguing in its own right, but also because it helps to put the teachings of Duns Scotus and later masters in clearer perspective. To compare the views of Scotus with the views of Aquinas is rather like comparing the views of a professor tenured

I. What little is known about the life of Scotus is summarized in A. Wolter, "Reflections on thc Life and Works of Scotus," American Catholic Philosophical QuarterIy67 [1993): 1-13.

2. See especially Hcnry of Ghent, Quodlibet I, ed. R. Macken, Henrici de Gandavo Opera omnia [Leuven-Leiden, 1979), vol. Ii J. Wippel, The Metaphysical Thought of God/my 0/ Fontaines [Washington, D.C., 198rli and Ciles of Ramc, Apologia, ed. R. Wielockx, Aegidii Romani Opera omnia III.L (Firenze, 1985).

HEROES AND HISTORIES 3

last year with the views of one who died in the early I960s. Even if the earlier professor's teachings continue to be highly influential, the intellectual milieu has changed radically. His successor has seen the protests of '68, the rise and fall of structuralism, the end of the war in Vietnam, the advent of deconstructionism, the dismantling of the Berlin Wall, the trend toward political correctness, and other deVelopments probably undreamed of by his older counterpart. Perhaps the pace of change was slower in the Middle Ages, but thirty-year gaps should still give one pause to wonder, and worry.3

The second peculiarity of the secondary literature is that surprisingly little of it focuses on issues in psychology, even less on issues in ethics. Much of the older literature deals mainly with problems of metaphysics, epistemology, and the appropriate relationship between philosophy and theology; more recent work tends to highlight problems of logic and language. Though one can certainly find a good many books and articles devoted to the moral thought of Aquinas, far less has been written about the moral thought of other late thirteenth-century masters, especially those considered voluntarists. The gap between great men proves particularly frustrating at this stage in one's investigation of virtue ethics. In Aquinas, virtue ethics appears to be reasonably consistent with Aristotle's teachings; but read Scotus and one is stunned to find that all moral virtues strictly so-called belong to the will-in striking contrast to Aquinas, who posits courage and temperance in the emotional part of the soul.

On the face of it, Scotus's thought represents a step in the direction of the good will ethic, a step taken well within the ambit of scholastic virtue theory. Press farther, and one finds the same step already taken by some of Scotus's predecessors. Why? Did the growing poprdarity of Aristotle trigger a general backlash, so that late thirteenth-century writers became eager to dissociate themselves from "pagan" philosophy? Was the attribution of all moral virtues to the will even seen as a rejection of Aristotle's views? What objections were raised to positing virtues in the emotional part of the

3. For helpful information about changes in academic life see W. Courtenay, Teaching Careers at the University of Paris in the Thirteenth and FOUlteenth Centuries (Notre Dame, r988).


soul? To· what extent did Aquinas himself modify Aristotle's teachings?

The present study attempts to answer questions of this kind} questions that a reader interested in the career of virtue ethics would probably raise. It focuses on the second half of the thirteenth century because scholars commonly portray that period as the end) or at least the beginning of the end, of scholasticism, and the begin~ ning, or at least the beginning of the beginning, of modem philoso~ phy. It devotes a good deal of space to debates about philosophical psychology, not only because scholastic disputes about the virtues so often reflect disagreements about psychology} but also because the voluntarist movement of the late thirteenth century remains too little understood. Yet one can hardly explain why Seotus or any~ other master would argue that all moral virtues in the strict sense must belong to the will without discussing controversies about the freedom of the will, the weakness of the will, and, more generally, Aristotle's status as an authority in ethics.

Finally, this study devotes a regrettable amount of space to ground-clearing exercises. The reason, in brief, is that more work has already been done on philosophy iu the late thirteenth century than on any other period in the whole of medieval philosophy-au accumulated burden of labor, which proves at once a blessing and a curse. It is a blessing because valuable material related to psychology and ethics has been transcribed, edited, and interpreted, and because work in other areas of late thirteenth-century philosophy has contributed significantly to our understanding of the intellectual milieu. The present study benefits from the materials provided, attempts to consolidate the gains in understanding, and tries to expand them.4 The curse under which it labors is simply that much of the secondary literature, and probably the best-known secondary literature, presents a misleading account of both the controversies

4· My debt to two scholars, Odon Lottin and Rene Gauthier, is especially great. The present study could hardly have been written without relying on Lottin's classic Psy"

chologie et morale aux XII" et XIIl e siec1es (Louvain/Gembloux, 1942-60) and, to name just one of Gauthier's works, his edition of Grossteteste's translation of the Nicomachean Ethics, in Aristoteles Latinus 26.3 (Leiden/Brussels, 1972). Though on one point or another I sometimes disagree with these writers, as I sometimes disagree with Fernand Van Steenberghen, it is always with the awareness that I am offering fairly minor corrections to the work of great scholars.


of the late thirteenth century and the masters who participated in them. The story is too well entrenched to be ignored: it is necessary to point out its peculiarities before attempting to give a more balanced account of the period.

We begin, then, by examining a common view of philosophical developments in the late thirteenth century. Next we consider an account more focused on developments in moral thought. Having flagged several problems with the secondary literature, as well as several limitations of the present study, we shall then be in a better position to investigate the rise of voluntarism in psychology and some of its repercussions in virtue ethics.

The Golden Age of Scholasticism

The late thirteenth century, we are told, was the best of times and the worst of times for medieval philosophy. It was the golden age of scholasticism, when the finest minds of Western Europe worked to reconcile Aristotle's philosophy with the Augustinian tradition that had dominated Christian thought for so many centuries. It was the age of Thomas Aquinas, who overcame the conflict between.Aristotelianism and Augustinianism by integrating the strengths of both into a revolutionary new synthesis. But even as Aquinas was drawing on .Aristotle to construct a Christian philosophy, Latin Averroists in the Paris arts faculty were working to separate philosophy from theology. They used Averroes as their guide to interpreting Aristotle, identified Aristotle himself with philosophy, aud defended his conclusions as philosophically correct even when they contradicted Christian revelation.

Augustinian theologians reacted violently against the rise of A verroism in the arts faculty. The reaction culminated! three years after the death of Aquinas! in the most sweeping doctrinal condemnation of the Middle Ages. Many of the 219 propositions condemned at Paris in 1277 were Averroist! but some attacked even Aquinas!s teachings. Thus ended the summer of scholasticism! when philosophy aud theology worked in fruitful collaboration. From 1277 on! theologians would rely more and more on revelation, not philosophical reasoning! to prove their conclusions, even as philosophers would increasingly pursue their own interests on their own terms, without the guidance of the faith they professed as


Christians. In the late thirteenth century, then, we find already the growing separation of faith and reason that led to their divorce in the modern period and that remains characteristic of Western philosophy to this day.

The brief sketch just presented, drawn from the works of Etienne Cilsan, probably continues to be the best-known account of late thirteenth-century philosophy,S Granted, one can easily find different versions of the story. Though the 1277 condemnation always plays a prominent role, it may be seen not as the end but merely as the beginning of the end of scholasticism's heyday. The rupture between medieval philosophy at its best and nascent modern philosophy might accordingly be located with William of Ockham in the early fourteenth century-so that Duns Scotus becomes part of the golden age6-or it might be placed even later, so that Ockham and Scotus both belong to the golde!) age and only Ockham's successors fall on the wrong side of the divide.' Although these differences are worth noting, they often represent variations on a basic story, disputed in detail but still accepted in broad outline. At this point we are not concerned with the details; we are concerned with what amounts to the standard story.

I focus on Gilson mainly because his own version of the story has been exceptionally influential. One can easily see why it would be. His contribution to historical scholarship has been substantial, and his History of Christian Philosophy in the Middle Ages continues to be an indispensable source for the study of medieval philosophy. Precisely because the study of medieval philosophy so often includes the study of Gilson, the story he tells of the late thirteenth century deserves scrutiny.

Perhaps the most obvious, and surely the most important, feature of the story is the Thomistic point of view. Of course, one can

5· See, for example, Gilson, History of Christian Philosophy in the Middle Ages (New York, 1955L 363-410. Cf. A. Maurer, Medieval Philosophy, 2d ed. (Toronto, 1982), 204-16. Alasdair MacIntyre's revival of Gilson's account is discussed below in the text.

6. F. Copleston, A History of 'Philosophy, vol. 2.2 (Garden City, 1962), 289-90. Copleston describes Scotus as a bridge figure but groups him with Aquinasj Ockham and his followers are placed on the modem side of the rupture.

7· J. Haldane, "Medieval and Renaissance Ethics," inA Companion to Ethics, cd. P. Singer (Oxford, 199r), 143.


hardly fail to notice this when the work of Aquinas wins praise as the apex of medieval philosophy, the height of the golden age, or anything in that vein. Such explicit value judgments are no danger to the thoughtful reader: one simply brackets them and moves on. The Thomistic viewpoint, however, is not so easily localized. It affects the story in far more subtle ways.

Consider, for example, the claim that the late thirteenth century witnessed a battle between three schools or movements: the reactionary Augustinians in the theology faculty; the radical, paganizing Aristotelians (alias A verroists) in arts; and the orthodox philosopher-theologians who found their foremost champion in Thomas Aquinas. The Thomistic synthesis typically appears as the golden mean, as the innovative middle ground between antiphilosophical theology and anti theological philosophy, or between reactionary Augustinianism and radical Aristotelianism. The very expression "Thomistic synthesis" has enough of a Hegelian ring to reinforce the lesson. Yet this view of Aquinas has become so commonplace that one easily repeats it without pausing to reflect upon it.

The idea of Thomism as the mean between the extremes of Aristotelianism and Augustinianism made its way into the secondary literature well before Gilson. One finds it already in works by Franz Ehrle published in the late nineteenth century. Around the turn of the century Pierre Mandonnet introduced Latin Averroism as the radical left, retained Augustinianism as the reactionary right, and identified the center as the Christian Aristotelianism of Aquinas. Some twenty years later, Gilson-while retaining Ehrle's conflict between Augustinianism and Aristotelianism, together with Mandonnet's complication (Latin Averroism)-put the spotlight on 11 Christian philosophy. liS From the outset, though, Aquinas was apparently cast as the mean between extremes/ even as the synthesis transcending thesis and antithesis. This idea became an important element in the standard story, as did the related idea that late thirteenth-century developments set the stage for the fourteenth-century breakdown of the Thomistic synthesis.

The story long told by historians of philosophy agrees, in the main) with a story once popular among Reformation church histori-

8. For a detailed historiographical overview see F. Van Steenberghen, Introduction cl }'etude de la philosophiemedievale (Louvain-Paris, r974L 55-77.


ans. In histories of Reformation theology, as in histories of medieval philosophY, the late Middle Ages was routinely treated as a period of decline. Probably the first sweeping challenge to this assessment was presented by Heiko Oberman's The Harvest of Medieval Theology, published in I963 and now a classic in Reformation studies. Oberman suggests that both Reformation scholars and fI the Thomistic school of interpretation" tend to take a dim view of later medieval thought, just as both tend to 'emphasize the discontinuity between Reformation thought and developments in the medieval tradition. Reformation scholars tend IIto stress constrasts between Luther and late medieval theologians and in general to assign Luther more to the tradition of St. Paul and St. Augustine than to that of William of Occam and Gabriel Biel.!I The Thomistic school, regarding the thought of Aquinas as the high point of the Middle Ages, "states that the thought of the succeeding period, beginning with Duns Scotus and culminating in nominalism-the work of Occam, Biel, and their disciples-is characterized by the disintegration and rapid collapse of the Thomistic synthesis." Oberman adds that a third and newer school of interpretation, lithe Franciscan school," tends to stress the orthodoxy of "newl/ Franciscans like Scotus and Ockham. Instead of locating the break in the medieval Catholic tradition between Aquinas and Scotus, "this third school searches for the decisive rupture somewhere between Biel and Luther. 1/9

TIle many studies published after Oberman's pioneering work would make a strictly up-to-date account of secondary literature on late medieval theology a deal more complicated than the one just given. lO At the very least, one would have to consider various works inspired by Harvest itself and generally supportive of Oberman's views. The older, simpler account, however, suffices to show how the story told in histories of philosophy tended to converge with the story told in histories of theology. In effect, each of the three "schools" Oberman identifies had a vested interest not only in describing the late Middle Ages as a period of decline but also in finding some rupture between late medieval thought and Reformation thought.

9. H. Oberman, The Harvest of Medieval Theology (Grand Rapids, r967), 1-2.

10. For bibliography see A. McGrath, The Intellectual Origins of the European Refonnation (Oxford-Cambridge, Mass., r987).


This is not to suggest that scholarly interpreters bequeathed us an account reflecting their own doctrinal orientations and having no basis in the texts they studied. Even a passing acquaintance with the works of Luther and Calvin will suggest that both saw themselves as breaking with the medieval tradition, that part of their agenda was indeed to purify theology by filtering out philosophy, especially Aristotelian philosophy, and other contaminants introduced during the Middle Ages. We might fault modern scholars for having taken this announced break too much at face value, but not for inventing it. In any case, the problem lies less with the story of decline, or disintegration, or rupture in itself than with the tendencyto describe thirteenth- and fourteenth-century thought in anticipation of developments centuries later. Knowing what will come, the modem writer easily slips into foreshadowing, dividing those masters and doctrines that were "properlyl/ medieval from those that anticipated, even helped to produce} the ultimate divorce

of philosophy from theology. Hence} a second crucial feature of the standard story: emphasis

on the relationship between philosophy and theology. Though this often comes combined with a focus on IIChristian philosophy} 1/ we need not review the controversies about that concept or about Gilson}s particular interpretation of it.ll Three points will suffice: (I) Cilson consistently emphasizes the theological character of scholastic thought, including the thought of Aquinas; 12) he firmly opposes any effort to separate philosophy from theology; and 13) while he praises Greek philosophers, especially Aristotle} for their contribution to philosophical and theological advances by Christians, he faults the ancient Romans for IIphilosophical sterility.}}l2

The importance of this emphasis on theology can hardly be overestimated. It helps to explain why late thirteenth-century conflicts are seen as theological conflicts, or conflicts between philosophy and theology, but seldom, if ever, as philosophical conflicts. It helps to explain why theological texts are given far more weight than philosophical treatises or commentaries on philosophical works. It helps to explain why the exposition of a master's thought follows

11. Ahelpful summary is given in J. Wippel, Metaphysical Themesin ThomasAqui

nas (Washington, D.C., 1984), 1-33· 12. History of Christian Philosophy, 364-68, 540-45·

, ,

ID HEROES AND HISTORIES

the order of theology, beginning always with God's existence and nature. The preference for Aristotle} together with the dismissal of Roman philosophy, also tends to reinforce the working dichotomy between Greek philosophy, on the one hand, and Christian theol~ ogy or "Christian philosophy," on the other. When Augustine becomes representative of Christianity and Aristotle of pagan philosophy, one easily loses sight of how much of Augustine's thought, and likewise scholastic thought, derives from Hellenistic sources.

On the whole, though, preoccupation with relations between philosophy and theology is most reflective of the tendency to interpret medieval thought with later developments in mind. What happens when philosophy is separated from theology? That way lies the antitheological bent of modem philosophy; that way lies the antiphilosophical bent of Reform theology. Looking backward, the consequences seem deceptively clear and inevitable. How the issues looked to thinkers at the time is a far more difficult question.

A third feature of the standard story is the prominent role played by "movements" or "schools" of thought. Since there always seem to be two dominant schools or movements in addition to Thomism~one much morc Aristotelian than Thomism, the other much more Augustinian-this aspect of the standard story fits nicely with the idea of Aquinas's thought as the golden mean. Casting Thomism as a school of thought opposed by other schools in the late thirteenth century is nevertheless rather different from presenting it as an ideal intellectual synthesis. While the latter claim cannot be either confirmed or disconfirmed by historical evidence, the former surely can be. And the evidence is easily produced: this was indeed a period of exceptional controversy and factionalism, at least some of which centered on certain Thomistic doctrines.

As we already know, the bishop of Paris condemned some of Aquinas's teachings in 1277. (One need not accept that any, of the 1277 condemnation was actually aimed at Thomistic doctrines to acknowledge that some were touched by it.) Soon afterward, the Dominican Robert Kilwardby, archbishop of Canterbury, condemned a list of propositions including some that Aquinas had held. Around 1278-79 the Franciscan William de la Mare wrote his Correctorium jratIis Thomae, a work in which he 'I corrected" more than a hundred passages from Aquinas and which the Franciscan order officially endorsed in 1282. The Franciscan John ,Peckham,

HEROES AND HISTORIES II

Kilwardby's successor as archbishop of Canterbury, renewed in 1284 Kilwardby's condemnation. In 1286 he added a censure of certain propositions by Richard Knapwell, one of the most vocal Tho

mists in the Dominican order. 13

On might continue a bit longer in the same vein, marshalling evidence of late thirteenth-century opposition to various Thomisti,c doctrines. But the question is not whether there exists such eVIdence but what one can make of it. For example, can we infer from the Franciscan legislation of 1282 that every Franciscan from that

ear onward belonged to an anti-Thomist school or movement? Is ~ anti-Thomist school of necessity anti-Aristotelian, or pro-Augustinian, or both? If so, in what respects? To learn more about terminology and taxonomy we now return to the standard story.

Gilson identified the schools opposed to Thomism as 11 Augustinianism" and "Averroism." Thirteenth-century" Averroists}" despite the storms of protest they triggered, were rather few in number and largely localized in the Paris faculty of arts.14 The 11 Augustinians," in contrast, were a large, powerful group of theologians, with members at Oxford as well as Paris and connections with the church hierarchy. Gilson applied the" Augustinian" label to a wide range of thinkers he believed inspired chiefly by a combination of religious convictions and hostility to Aristotle. 15 As Bonaventure and his successors were grouped together as "Augustinians," so Henry of Ghent, Duns Scotus, and several other fourteenth-century masters were grouped together as lithe second Augustinian school."

16 Al

though he placed virtually all Franciscan thought in the genus" Au-

I3. Controversies and official actions related to Aquinas's teachings are reviewed in M. Burbach, "Early Dominican and Franciscan Legislation Regarding St. Thomas," Mediaeval Studies 4 (1942): 139-58; F. Roensch, Early Thomistic School (Dubuque, 1964); P. Glorieux, "Pro et contra Thomam: Un sulirol de cinquante annees," in Sapi· en'tiae procerUIrl amore, ed. T. Kohler, Studia Anselmiana 63 (1974): 255-87.

14, From here until the end ofthe chapter Ilargely ignore the" A verroists" and focus on the" Augustinians," not only because the latter group is taken to be much larger and more powerful, but also because most of the thinkers discussed in the present study are

traditionally numbered among its members. r s, His term for this orientation is "theologism," which supposedly involves a fail

ure to respect the distinction between philosophy and theology, so that philosophy becomes little more than theology decked out in philosophical garb. See, e.g., Gilson, The

Unity of Philosophical Experience (New York, 1937), chap, .2.

16. History of Christian Philosophy, 339-S3, 447-71.


gustinianisID," Gilson often added a differentia to distinguish one species of Augustinianism from another. Bonaventure's thought, for example, became flFranciscan Augustinianism," Seotug's flAvicennian Augustinianism. 1I17

Cilsan's views attracted both critics and defenders. Scholars disputed the basic division between Aristotelianism and Augustinianism, the meaning of those terms, ~nd their application to particular masters. Just the debate about classifying Bonaventure's thoughtIs the genus Augustinianism or Aristotelianism, and what is the differentia?-ragedfor so many years that a blow-by-blow report of the secondary literature takes up more than fifty pages of John Quinn's study of Bonaventure's philosophy,lS

Fernand Van Steenberghen has probably been the mostforceful of Cilsan's critics. Van Steenberghen argues that the great doctrinal conflicts of the thirteenth century were, for the most part, struggles between different forms of Aristotelianism. Bonaventure's philosophy was not opposed to Thomas's as Augustinianism to Aristotelianism; on the contrary, what might conceivably be called Augustinianism did not arise till around I270, when conservative theologians at Paris and Oxford set out to combat Thomistic Aristotelianism, the radical Aristotelianism of Siger of Brabant and other arts masters, and, in general, the growing prestige of Aristotle. Proclaiming themselves defenders of the thought of St. Augustine, these theologians created a new philosophical school. Van Steenberghen dubs this movement "Neo-Augustinianism" to indicate that the deliberate return to certain Augustinian doctrines was mixed, in reality, with other doctrines alien to the thought of Augustine. Bonaventure, he says, was the Neo-Augustinian school's "inspiration"; John Peckham was its IItrue founder" i and its flcodi-

17· For some of his remarks on the Augustinianism of the Franciscans see Gilson, "pourquoi saint Thomas a critique saint Augustin," Archives d'Histoire Doctrinale et litteraire du Moyen Age 1 (19.26): 5-127, esp. 5-8, 80-1.27; La philosophie de saint Bonaventme (Paris, 19.24), 1-17, 24-38; "La philosophie franciscaine," in Saint Fral?cois d'Assise: Son oeuvre, son influence (1226-1926) (Faris, 1927), 148-5 8; "Avicenne et le point de depart de Duns Scot,'" AHDL.2 (1927): 89-149. The opinions expressed in these early works remain substantially unchanged in Gilson's History of ChIistian Philosophy.

18. J. Quinn, The Historical Constitution of St. Bonaventure's Philosophy (Toronto, r973), 24ff.


fication" was provided by William de la Mare's Correctorium fratris Thomae. Of course, Van Steenberghen agrees that not all Neo-Augustinians were Franciscans, that the secular Henry of Ghent (for example) was among the school's leading representatives. 19

Van Steenbergen plainly differs from Gilson in emphasizing the broadly Aristotelian character of virtually all thirteenth-century philosophy. He also differs in emphasizing that the controversies toward the end of the century were philosophical controversies, not merely conflicts between theology and philosophy, as Gilson suggests. But despite their differences, both Gilson and Van Steenberghen agree that there existed a (Neo-)Augustinian school, at least from 1270 on, more or less unified by a shared attitude and program. The attitude was IIdefensive"-a IIreactionll against the new AIistotelianism manifest in the teachings of Aquinas as well as in more radical doctrines propounded by masters of arts. The program, in general terms, was to rally under the banner of St. Augustine, using certain Augustinian doctrines to battle Aristotle's growing prestige and influence.2o

Let us pause to raise a couple of questions about this story. First, why should we think that there was any (Neo-)Augustinian school ~r movement at all? Because various masters of theology, both secular and religious, pitted Augustine's authority against Aristotle's?21 Because various masters defended Augustine and opposed Aristotle on one issue or another? (Surely no one opposed Aristotle in all areaSj so we need to know which specific doctrines suffice to establish a master's membership in this schooL) Second, what reason have we to think that (Neo-)Augustinians were unified partly by a shared sense of defensiveness?

The picture of (Neo-)Augustinians as reactionaries is both vivid

19. F. Van Steenberghen, La philosophie au XIII" siecle, 2d ed. [Louvain-Paris, 1991), 407-II, 433-39; Introduction cl l'Mude, 489-90, 572~76, esp. 575-76.

20. Van Steenberghe.n, La philosophie au XIII" siecle, 406: "Ils ont compris qu'une reaction purement defensive et purement negative ne pourrait briser l'eIan de la philosophie nouvelle. Pour fajre front d'une maniere efficace a l'aristotelisme radical et au thomisme sur le plan de la controverse philosophique, pour mieux combattre le prestige d' Aristote et de Thomas d' Aquin, ils se sont groupes auteur de S. Augustin et se sont pIOclames les heritiers de sa pensee et de son esprit." See also Gilson, History of Christian Philosophy, 402-10.

21. We shall consider some of the evidence for this view below, in chap. 2.


and persuasive. One easily imagines this embattled group of theologians huddled together, wringing their hands at the horrifying spread of neo-pagan thinking, pining for 'a return to the purer, lllore Christian philosophy of earlier generations, resolving to revive the teachings of Augustine, and sallying forth to debate, or at least to denounce, their more progressive colleagues. An intriguing picture. but is it true to life, or does it spring mainly from the imaginatio~ of historical scholars? .

Consider a very different picture of the late thirteenth century, presented in William Courtenay's Schools and Scholars in Pourteenth-Century England:

In the period from 1280 to 1320 strong centripetal, cohesive forces were at work to bring some uniformity of teaching into the mendicant orders. The Dominican order at Paris in 1286 bound itself to teach and defend the thought of Thomas Aquinas. In thefollowing year at Florence the Augustinian Hermits similarly bound themselves to teach the doctrine and opinions of Giles of Rome both those he had written and those he might later write. Thes~ actions were part of a larger campaign to defend the thought of Thomas and Giles in the two decades after the promulgation of the Parisian and Oxford Articles of 1277, since some of their opinions were contrary to the views of those who drafted the articles. Interestingly, the Franciscans did not single out one of their own theologians for intellectual reverence and emulation, although they had two good candidates in Bonaventure and Alexander of Hales. Having supported the condemnations of 1277 and having achieved official recognition for such anti -Thomist and anti -Aegidian views as the plurality of substantial forms, the Franciscans had little need to restrict the diversity of their intellectual heritage by tying themselves to the thought of one of their doctors ....

What explains this move toward conformity in doctrine? Initially, as has been noted, the enhancement of Thomas and Giles was part of a defense by their respective orders of men whose views had indirectly come under attack at Paris in the condemnation of 1277. The legislation was a means of concentrating the energies of Dominicans and Augusti~ians in defense of the orthodoxy of their leading theologians, particularly against their Franciscan critics. The "celebrification" of Thomas and Giles, and eventually Scotus, served other aims as well. It was part of a rivalry, a means of competing with the other orders for academic and theological superior-

HEROES AND HISTORIES I5

ity and preferment~a motive that also underlay the canonization of Aquinas in 132 3.

22

A bit later Courtenay adds: flFranciscan thought was so important after 1277 that the early Thomist school might well be viewed as a reaction to Franciscan thought and to potential defectors within their own ranks. The Franciscans, by contrast} were not particularly concerned with the Thomists. Academic debates among Franciscans centered more on personalities within their own order and on su~h secular theologians as Henry of Ghent."'23

Courtenay's account emphasizes legislation by the Dominicans and the Augustinian Hermits that many histories of the period mention only in passing or relegate to a footnote. On the other hand, it glosses over other developments in the 1280s: the Franciscans' endorsement of William's Correctorium, John Peckham's renewal of Kilwardby's condemnation and his censure of Knapwell, all of which figure prominently in the standard story. Instead of trying, no doubt vainly, to determine which school was actually on the defensive, let us turn to the question of doctrinal alignment. We might see a school as reasonably continuous in doctrine even though its members may have shifted, in response to condemnations and legislation by the religious orders, from defensiveness to complacency and back-again. The problem, then, is which doctrines ,are'thought to provide sufficient cohesiveness and continuity for (Neo-JAugustianianism to be judged a school.

Of course) in histories of philosophy virtually any /I-ism" is a term of art: one cannot expect too precise a definition. But even allowing for the fact that such terms are typically fuzzy around the edges} it turns out that what Gilson means by // Augustinianism" differs significantly from what what Van Steenberghen means by IINeo-Augustinianism." Gilson regards the theory of knowledge based on divine illumination as a doctrine characteristic, even partly definitive} of Augustinianism. Van Steenberghen objects that epistemological doctrines are of secondary concern} that the principal controversies of the late thirteenth century revolved around is-

22. W. Courtenay, Schools and Scholars in Fourteenth-Centmy England jPrinceton, I987), I75-7 8.

23· Ibid., I85.

r6 HEROES AND HISTORIES

sues in metaphysics (for example, the plurality of substantial forms and the creation of the world in time). The opposition of the NeoAugustinian school tn ThomisID, he argues, was consistently driven by metaphysical disputes. The Thomistic theory of knowledge, in contrast, was never condemned by episcopal decrees, nor was it attacked by WilIiam de la Mare's Correctorium. Besides, while the NCG-Augustinian school demonstrates a certain stability and continuity in metaphysics, the doctrine of divine illuminati'on was abandoned by several Franciscans of the late thirteenth century, such as Richard of Middleton, William de la Ware, and Peter OIivi.2.4

Van Steenberghen's position makes perfect sense. When we corral an apparently diverse group of scholasticsinto the same school, it is wise to ask which doctrines they actually held in common. Notice, however, that this particular grouping has no obvious connection with the history of ethics. What would it even mean for a thinker to be Neo-Augustinian in ethics?

This brings us to a fourth feature of the standard story: the centrality of metaphysics. It might well be the case that the principal controversies of the late thirteenth century revolved around issues in metaphysics. It is certainly the case that issues in metaphysics are routinely used as a litmus test in determining school affiliations. A term such as 11 Augustinianismll or IfNeo-Augustinianism" nevertheless suggests somewhat more than certain metaphysical doctrines: it suggests a general orientation, even a whole doctrinal 11 complex. 1/25

24· La philosophie au XIII B siecie, 407-9. For a survey of Franciscan teachings in epistemology see L. Bowman, "The Development of the Doctrine of the Agent Intellect in the Franciscan School in the Thirteenth Century," Modem Schoolman So (r9731: 25 r-79·

25· While Van Steenberghen apparently does not take the idea of a Neo-Augustinian doctrinal" complex" very seriously-witness his emphasis on metaphysical disputesGilson relies heavily on it. See especially "Bonaventure and His School" in History of Christian Philosophy, 331-53. Noticing that many members of Bonaventure's "school" disagreed with Bonaventure and with each other, Gilson explains that, in Roger Marston's works, "the Augustinian complex" was "beginning to disintegrate" (343), that Peter Ohvi maintained the complex "in a half-hearted way" (344), that "the Augustinian complex seems to come to pieces even more clearly" in Richard of Middleton's works (347), and so on. It would have been wiser to ask whether there was an "Augustinian complex," or even a Bonaventurean "school," to begin with.

HEROES AND H I STORIES

The suggestion that school divisions extended beyond metaphysics is not entirely misleading. We can indeed find a general pattern of voluntarism in the Neo-Augustinian school. Whether every socalled Neo-Augustinian conformed to the pattern is another question, and a serious one. One master may deviate enough from the pattern so that his teachings in moral psychology are even farther from another Neo-Augustinian's than they are from Thomism. When one thinks of these school divisions as general orientations, they tend to appear not only wider but more consistent than they actually were, just as divisions between members of the same school tend to appear less significant than they actually were.

Richard of Middleton (ca. 1249-1300) is perhaps the best example of a master who deviates from the expected patterns. Although he defends universal hylemorphism and the plurality of substantial forms-both characteristically Nco-Augustinian positions in metaphysics-his views on the freedom of the will are considerably more moderate than those of his contemporary confrere Peter Olivi (1248-98). Richard's teachings on the interplay of intellect and will in moral action are likewise quite moderate, indeed on several points scarcely distinguishable from Aquinas 's.

26

The differences between Richard's teachings and Olivi's become all the more interesting when one considers the historical context. As we shall see in chapter 2, Olivi adamantly opposed the teach: ings of both Aristotle and Aquinas. Although many Franciscans admired his brilliance, some of his views caused them grave concern. Around 1280 the Franciscan minister general condemned nineteen of Olivi's doctrines. Instead of recanting, Olivi declared himself misunderstood and persecuted, and, perhaps as a result, the accusations continued. In 1282 the same chapter general that prohibited Franciscans from reading Aquinas's Summa theologiae without William de la Mare's "correctionsl/ also required that any friar who stubbornly defended unsound opinions be reported to the minister general-an injunction that at least one scholar believes referred to Olivi.27 All we know for certain is that in the same year

26. Richard's and Peter's teachings in these areas are discussed below, in chaps. '3

and 4. 27· G. Fussenegger, "Definitiones capituli generalis Argentinae 11282)," Archivum

Franciscanum Historicum 26 (r933): 139.


the minister general ordered several Franciscan masters and bachelors of theology at Paris to examine Olivi's works. The commission responded in 1283 with a list of thirty-four excerpts it deemed suspect, each marked with the appropriate grade of censure, ranging from "temerarium" all the way to "haereticum," Accompanying the list was what came to be called the Littera septem sigillorum: a letter containing twenty-two propositions corrective of Glivi and bearing the personal seais of the seven examining theologians.28

One of the seals belonged to Richard of Middleton, a formed bachelor when the commission met and regent of the Franciscan school from 1284 to I287.29 A contemporary account describes Richard as one of Olivi's principal adversaries on the commission. Edgar Hocedez questions the accuracy of the report, suggesting that Richard was influenced by his elders, who strongly opposed Olivi.

30 Whatever the truth of the matter, this episode provides a

helpful reminder that Franciscans sometimes disagreed, even bitterly, among themselves. The most successful members of the order were not necessarily those who most closely approximated the Neo----Augustinian {{type" presented in the standard story. A more mWldane lesson, which reflection alone should teach, is that gen-

28. G. Fussenegger, "'Littera septem sigillorum' contra doctrinam Petri Ioannis Olivi edita/' Archivum Franciscanum Historicum 47 (19S4): 45-53.

29· P. Glorieux, "Maitres franciscains regents a Paris. Mise au point," Recherches de Theologie ancienne et medievale 18 (r9sr): 324-29.

30. On Richard's life and works see E. Hocedez, Richard de Middleton: Sa vie, ses oeuvres, sa doctn'ne (Louvain, 1925), 1-134i D. Sharp, Franciscan Philosophy at Oxford in the Thirteenth Century (Oxford, r930), 2rl-IS; R. Zavalloui, Richard de Mediavilla et la controversesur lapluraliM des iormes (Louvain, 19SI); A Hamelin, L'Ecole /ranciscaine deses debuts jusqu'iil'occamisme (Louvain, 1961); G. Etzkorn, "Rich_ ard of Media villa: Richard of Middleton, " Bulletin de philosophiemedievale 21 (1979): 80. On Olivi's life and works see M.D. Lambert, Franciscan Poverty (London, 1961 ), rSI-22; C. Partee, "Peter John Olivi: Historical and Doctrinal Study," Franciscan Studies 20 (1960): 2IS-6o"j D. Burr, The Persecution of Peter Olivi (Philadelphia, 1976); see also S. Gieben, "Bibliographia Oliviana (188S-1967)," Collectanea Franciscana 38 (1968): 167-95. As Lambert (156) observes, the idea that the Littera septem sigillorum was trumped up to conceal an attack on Olivi's teachings on Franciscan poverty is virtually impossible to reconcile with the contents of the document. Only four of the twenty-two propositions concern poverty; the others address errors-in philosophyand theology.


eral agreement on certain issues in metaphysics hardly guarantees agreement, or even cordial disagreement, in all areas.31

The Golden Age Revisited: Scholastic Ethics

Beginning in the late 1960s and continuing for roughly two decades/ research in medieval philosophy turned toward areas appealing to contemporary ana~ytic philosophers: away from metaphysics and toward problems of logic, language, physics, and mathematics; away from IIChristian philosophy" and toward less theological concerns; even, to some extent, away from thirteenth-century thought and toward fourteenth-century developments. What I have called the standard story of late thirteenth-century philosophy had little relevance to this new current of research. As publications shifted toward establishing a dialogue with contemporary philosophers, scholastic logic began to supplant metaphysics as the central area of interest, while ethics remained at the margin.32

The publication of Alasdair Maclntyre's After Virtue in 198 I had little direct bearing on work in medieval philosophy. It did, however/ do much to encourage work in virtue ethics, just as it made the history of ethics a topic of growing interest. MacIntyre made no effort to show that moral philosophers of the past have on one point or another anticipated their modern cOWlterparts. He began by declaring contemporary moral philosophy bankrupt, then proceeded to explain how moral philosophy had reached its present condition.

By any standard, After Virtue is a remarkably interesting book. For one thing, MacIntyre defends a narrative concept of the self: the idea that "man is in his actions and practice, as well as in his fictions, essentially a story-telling animal," that personal accountability somehow entails having a unified and intelligible life story, and so on.33 The emphasis on storytelling may partly explain why the

31. In a similar vein, John Buridan, who shares Ockham's nominalism in metaphysics, sharply diverges from Ockham's teachings in ethics. For evidence see J. J. Walsh, "Teleology in the Ethics of Buridau," Journal of the History of Philosophy 18 (19801: 26S-86.

32. For evidence of this shift the reader may consult the articles and bibliography in the Cambridge History of Later Medieval Philosophy, ed. N. Kretzmann et al. (Cambridge-New York, 1982).

33· After Virtue (Notre Dame, 1981), 201-3.


author strays well beyond the usual canon into reflections on Thomas Becket, Jane Ansteu, Benjamin Frankliu, and other writers seldom discussed in histories of philosophy. Equally important, MacIntyre presents the history of Western moral thought as itself a fascinating story, complete with dramatic conflicts and reversals and yet provocatively open-ended, so that the reader cannot tell whether the large-scale catastrophe he describes spells the end of all meaningful ethical discourse in the West or whether we will with effort, manage to recover. I ,I

Although the tragic hero of After Virtue is something Maclntyre calls lithe Aristotelian tradition," he pays little attention to scholastic transformations of Aristotle. His two subsequent books, Whose Justicel Which Rationalityll1988) and Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry Ir990), attempt to correct this deficiency. While scholastic writers other than Aquinas continue to receive comparatively little attention, Aquinas's own thought is discussed at considerable length. No more is MacIntyre's tragic hero the Aristotelian tradition: it is now the Thomistic tradition. The "Thomistic dialectical synthesis," which reconciles the radical conflict between Aristotelianism and Augustinianism,34 yields to increasingly incoherent and indefensible rivals, until the West finally degenerates into liberal individualism, the worst tradition of them all.

Should one object that this history of Western ethics reflects a strongly Thomistic perspective, MacIntyre would readily agree. One passage should suffice to give the gist of his position:

It is at this point in the argument that it becomes evident that in characterizing the variety of standpoints with which I have been and will be concerned, I too must have been and will be speaking as a partisan. The neutrality of the academic is itself a fiction of the encyclopaedist, and I reveal my antiencyclopaedic partisanship by c,alling it a fiction, . , , In recording the history of a conflict, in particular, how one recounts that history will depend upon what from one's own point of view one takes to have been the outcome, So in presenting the thirteenth-century history of the conflict between Augustinian theology and Aristotelianism, rival views of the outcome will generate rival histories. An Augustinian account, such as a Franciscan pupi~ of Bonaventure might have given, would be

34· Whose rustied 402-3,

HEROES AND H I STORIES 2I

very different from that offered by a persistent and continuing Latin Averroist, and neither of these would coincide with a history from the standpoint of Aquinas.

It is this latter type of history which I shall be attempting to provide. But in order to do so, it is important to begin not so much by asking how Aquinas did in fact, by integrating the Augustinian and Aristotelian modes of understanding into a unified, if complex, synthesis, reconcile what must have appeared to be, up to this point; as it appeared to many in the thirteenth century, irreconcilable, but how this type of reconciliation could even be possible. For unless we first understand this latter, the significance of certain crucial features of Aquinas's thought may not emerge.35

While this passage seems to suggest that thirteenth-century thinkers themselves saw Augustinianism and Aristotelianism as rival, incommensurable schemes of concepts and beliefs, other passages give a different impression. "Retrospectively,}} MacIntyre writes, "we can understand [Aquinas] as having rescued both standpoints from imminent, even if unrecognized, epistemological crises." A similar caveat: liMy account'of Aquinas's work as the culmination and integration of the Augustinian and Aristotelian traditions is not at all how Aquinas was understood by much the greater part of both his contemporaries and his immediate successors.//36 On the other hand, these disclaimers might mean only that Aquinas's triumph in overcoming the conflict went largely unrecognized at the time, not that the conflict itself went largely unrecognized.

If it is difficult to say how much of the thirteenth-century collision of Augustinianism and Aristotelianism Madntyre thinks was evident at the time, at least the outline of his narrative is both clear and familiar. In outline MacIntyre's account follows Gilson's: the standard story is revived, radicalized, and refitted for service in the history of ethics. A revival alone would tend to reopen questions raised when the story was told before. The radical new form raises even more questions, and the application of the story to historical developments in ethics raises more questions still. In refitting the story for use in ethics, at least, MacIntyre is not alone, John Hal-

35. Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry (Notre Dame, 1990), II7~I8. 36. Three Rival Versions, 123, 151.

1'---- --


dane's survey of ethics in lithe golden age of scholasticism/ for example, follows roughly the same pattern.

"The Thomistic genius," writes Haldanc, "lay in the capacity to see how Greek thought and Catholic doctrine might be synthesized into a Christian philosophy," The Thomistic synthesis also occupied the mean between contemporary schools of thought:

In giving due place to the religious dimension of morality while combining it with a broadly rationalist theory, Aquinas trod a path between two groups of contemporary philosophers: the Latin A verroists and the Franciscan voluntarists. The former, of whom the most important was Siger of Brabant (I240-84), maintained an unqualifiedly naturalistic version of Aristotelian eudaimonianism. The latter, by contrast, challenged the idea that divine law i; in effect a "user's guide" to human life, and maintained that it is an independent source of obligation rooted in God's legislative will. This revival of Augustinian thought began in St Thomas's lifetime in works of a mystical inclination by StBonaventure(I217-74), Raman Lull (1235-13151 and Meister Eckhardt (1260--13271 which emphasized divine illumination and the turning of the soul's will to God.37

The Thomistic viewpoint, the emphasis on Christian philosophy, the understanding of Augustinianism as a movement begun during Aquinas's lifetime, and the reference to divine illumination as an earmark of Augustinianism are all reminiscent of Gilson. Still, Haldane's remarks are both brief and general. The more elaborate account in Whose Justicet Which Rationalityt and Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry demands greater attention, for in MacIntyre's work the standard story takes some dramatic new turns.

The schools of Aristotelianism and Augustinianism are now extended,beyond metaphysics and epistemology to ethics, indeed extended even beyond 11 schools." They are now 11 rival, large-scale intellectual traditions,,,38 modelled on incommensurable conceptual schemes and spanning many centuries. But if Augustiniailism and Aristotelianism have expanded almost beyond recognition, at least they play familiar roles. As usual, they come into radical conflict in

37. Haldane, "Medieval and Renaissance Ethics, IJ 14I-42. 38. Whose Justice~ I66.


the second half of the thirteenth century; the intellectual crisis is overcome, in the usual way, by the Thomistic synthesis; the "break," lIbreach," or "rupture" in the history of Western philosophy is located where it usually is; and the rupture is followed by the usual period of decline.

39

Like Gilson, MacIntyre associates the rupture with the 1277 con-c.' ,;c'<iernnation and Aquinas's immediate successors. Like Gilson, he

casts Scotus as an Augustinian who paved the way for the emergence of philosophy as an autonomous discipline.40 Like Gilson, he insists that philosophy cannot be separated from theology in the Thomistic synthesis: As ethics is part of politics in Aristotelian thought, so ethics is part of theology in Thomistic thought.41 "The right place to begin," according to MacIntyre, "is not with Aquinas' discussions of the virtues, but with his metaphysical theology. For just as there is an inescapably theological dimension to prudence even as a natural virtue, so there is also such a dimension to justice. ,,42

In fact, Aquinas does not give natural virtues the kind of "inescapably theological dimension" that Maclntyre claims. Although theology does indeed provide the framework for Thomistic ethics, it plays a role both more limited and more complicated than a riveting tale of two traditions in conflict can easily accommodate. To see where the trouble lies, let us begin with a quick look at MacIntyre's version of Aquinas, then take a quick look at Augustine's teachings} and finally examine, at greater length, how Aquinas reconciled Augustine's teachings with Aristotle's.

The question at issue is whether anyone but a Christian with the God-given virtue of charity can have true moral virtues-a question of no small significance in the late thirteenth century and of easily equal significance in our own, when Christians live and work with persons of other faiths, or of no faith at all. We shall focus on MacIntyre's work merely as an example of how the standard story, already doubtful in its original form, can become even more doubtful when extended to ethics. Since many of the problems confronting

39· Three Rival Versions, 58-59, 73, 158.

41. Ibid., I91.

40. Ibid., I55-56; see also III-13.

'42. Whose lusticet I98. On Gilson's tendency to exaggerate the theological aspect of Thomism see Wippel, Metaphysical Themes, 14-33.


Aquinas were shared by other masters of the period, this brief examination of Thomistic moral thought will also serve as a general introduction to various problems of ethics in the late thirteenth century.

Christian Charity and True Moral Virtue

According.to Whose Justic:d Which Rationalityt Aquinas f~und Aristotle's ethics "incomplete in a way which involves radical defectiveness." 43 Not only did Aristotle fail to recognize the corruption of human nature caused by original sin, he misunderstood the ultimate end of human beings. The ultimate end is a supernatural end: the perfect happiness possible only through God's grace and attainable only in the afterlife. Aquinas was well aware of Aristotles limitations in this respect. As MacIntyre explains, "The virtues understood only in Aristotelian terms are incapable of perfecting human beings in such a way that they can attain their telos, partly because of Aristotle's inadequate understanding of what that telos is and partly because the natural virtues themselves can only perfect when informed by that caritas which is a gift of grace. 1144

This presentation of Aquinas's thought lays heavy emphasis on his moral theology-his account of those virtues possessed exclusively by Christians as gifts of grace~while glossing over virtues that all human beings can acquire through their own natural resources. MacIntyre's narrative consistently relates natural virtues to a supernatural end, and so, not surprisingly, it tends to dismiss as irrelevant the happiness they might bring in the ordinary human society.of the present life. The only happiness that counts is the perfect happmess possible exclusively in the afterlife. Mundane activities like helping one's neighbors count only insofar as they are directed to that ultimate end.

Carrying this line of interpretation to its logical conclusion, MacIntyre finally claims that no one can have the natural virtue of justice, not even as a natural virtue, unless she has the supernatural, distinctively Christian, virtue of charity. The thesis is not merely that justice cannot be perfect without the supernatural virtue of charity but that justice cannot exist without charity:

43· Whose Tusticei 192-93. 44. Ibid., 182.


For just as and because justice is continually the victim of the vice and sin of pride} so justice cannot flourish} cannot indeed, so it turns out, even exist as a natural virtue, unless and insofar as it is informed by the supernatural virtue of caritas. Charity is the form of all virtue; without charity the virtues would lack the specific kind of directedness which they require. And charity is not to be acquired by moral education; it is a gift of grace, flowing from the work of Christ through the office of the Holy Spirit 1ST II-IIae, 23

to 441-"

Note that the dependence of natural virtue on supernatural virtue holds not only for justice but for all natural virtues: no charity, no moral virtues either. In Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry MacJntyre presents the same thesis, again attributing it to Aquinas:

It is only the kind of knowledge which faith provides, the kind of expectation which hope provides, and the capacity for friendship with other human beings and with God which is the outcome of charity which can provide the other virtues with what they need to become genuine excellences, informing a way of life in and through which the good and the best can be achieved.46

The source of the doctrine that there can be no true virtue without charity is St. Augustine, or possibly St. Pa~l as interpreted by St. Augustine. Augustine taught that the end of human life lies strictly in the afterlife and can be attained only through God's grace. Because each of us is infected with Adam's sinful pride, we tend to love ourselves and the world better than we do God. Only through God's grace can we learn humility, come to recognize our total dependence, and begin to love God as we should. Thus charity, the love of God, becomes the motivation for all truly good actions and the foundation of all true moral virtues. According to Augustine, then, there can be no true virtue without religion, piety} and "true worship of the true God. /147 Hence the famous claim that all the virtues of pagan Rome, because they were not directed to the Christian

45. Ibid., 205. The expression "natural virtues" denotes naturally acquired moral virtues, as opposed to supernatural virtues "infused" in the human agent by God. Scholastics usually used "acquired" and "infused" to make the same distinction, but I follow MacIntyre in using "natural" and "supernatural" instead.

46. Three Rival Versions, 140. 47. De civitate Dei, V, c. 19.

26 HEROES AND HI STORIES

God, were merely IIsplendid vicesll-an expression Augustine himself never used but that does capture his viewpoint with reasonable accuracy.

Even when Augustine did credit some of the early Romans with "civic virtue," he added that it is "not true virtue butresemhles true virtue

ll (virtute civili, non vera, sed veri similiJ.48 The resemblance,

however, is superficiaL As St. Paul taught that IIwhatever does not proceed from faith is sin," so Au~stine taught that the virtues of pagans are actually vices:

... Although virtues are supposed by some people to be true and noble when they have reference only to themselves and are desired for no other end, even then they arc puffed up and proud, and for that reason should be judged vices rather than virtues.49

Sometimes! to be sure, the most obvious vices are overcome by other, secret vices that are reckoned to be virtues! though they are governed by pride and a certain lofty, ruinous self-satisfaction, Vices, then, should be considered overcome only when they are overcome by the love of God! which no one but God himself gives, and which he gives only through the mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus. , , .50

As these passages indicate, Augustine thought that true virtue lies not in doing virtuous deeds for their own sake but in doing them from the love of God. Either one loves God! or one loves the world (especIally oneselfl; either actions spring from charity, or they spring from self-Iove.sl Since everyone must be a citizen of either the City of the Devil or the City of God ruled by Christ, since there can be no dual nationals, the concept of a virtuous pagan becomes incoherent,52 What looked like the capacity of early Roman heroes for virtuous actions accordingly became, in Augustine's eyes,

48. Contra Julianum, IV, c. 3.

49· De civitate Dei, XIX, c. 25; cf. Romans 14:23. 50. De civitate Dei, XXI, c. 16.

51. See, for example, De civitate Dei, XIV, c. 28.

52. Augustine's apocalyptic dualism is discussed in detail in J. van Oort, Jerusalem and Babylon: A Study into Augustine's 'City of God' and the Sources of his Doctrine of the Two Cities 1Leiden, 1991), esp. II5-23, 151-53; and A de Veer, "Rom. 14,23b dans l'oeuvre de saint Augustin," Recherches AUgustiniennes 811972): I49-85, esp. 179-85.


merely so much evidence of their craving for glory and the praise of b " " mere human emgs,

Recall that when Augustine was writing! Christianity was ~he newly official religion of a declining! then fallen, Roman emplIe.

D· utes with pagans and merely nominal converts were common; ,sp " " f " "

Aristotle!s works were largely unknown; the mventlOn 0 unIverSI-ties lay more than seven hundred years in the future; and much of what is now standard Christian doctrine was just being hammered out. When Aquinas was teaching at the university of Paris, all of his colleagues were Christians; Augustine himself was the most. revered father of the Western church; Aristotles works were requlIed

d,"ng· and while certain Aristotelian doctrines continued to be rea , ! . controversial, a good deal of his philosophy had already worked ItS way into the intellectual mainstream.

The conception of moral virtues as habits acquired from repeated actions is one example of a widely accepted bit of Aristotelian doctrine. This is not to suggest that late thirteenth-century masters simply scrapped Augustine!s teachings, or that they accepted Aristotle's conception of moral virtue as a hexis without modifying it! hut only that they distinguished between the naturally acquired virtues discussed by Aristotle and the supernatural (divinely lIinfused") virtues discussed by the saints.54 Theologians continued to debate whether the natural virtues we acquire through our own efforts can exist! or be true virtues, in the absence of supernatural virtues that Christians are given by God.

Aquinas argued that only supernatural virtues are virtues simpliciter! that those virtues alone direct one to th.e ultimate end, that they alone are perfect virtues. To that extent he followed Augustines teachings. Yet he broke with Augustine in arguing that natural virtues are true virtues even in the absence of charity and other supernatural virtues. Granted, they are imperfect virtues and only virtues in a relative sense (secundum quidl! for they direct a person only to the imperfect happiness of this life, not to the perfect happiness that is the unqualified ultimate end. Nevertheless, Aqui-

53· De civitate Dei, V, c. 13; V, c. 19. 54. For historical background see O. Lottin, "La connexion des venus chez saint

Thomas d'Aquin et ses predecesseurs," Psychologie et morale aux XII" et Xlne siec1es, vol. 3, Prob18mes de morale, pt. I (Louvain, 1949), 197-252.


nas consistently claimed that natural virtues, even in the absence of charity, are true virtues. His usual descriptioll-"true but imperfect virtues/-reflects his respect for both Aristotle and Augustine . .55

I know afna disagreement among scholars on this particular ques~ tion. Even Thomists seriously divided on other points of interpretation, such as Lottin and GiJson, agree that Aquinas regarded natural virtues as true virtues even when they lack supernatural"direction" by distinctively Christian, God-given virtues. 56 The sixteenth-century Dominican commentator Cajetan presents the same opinion, insisting that pagan philosophers and Christian theologians actually agree on this issue; but because they have different perspectives-the first judging in terms of the-happiness attainable in this life, the second judging in terms of the perfect happiness possible in the afterlife-they appear to disagree about whether natural moral virtues, in the absence of Christian faith and charity, can be perfect moral virtues. Cajetan argues that there is no contradiction between the two judgments when one takes into account the two different perspectives. He ends this passage of his commentary on Aquinas's Summa theologiae by expressing hope that his readers have paid close attention, so that they will receive the teachings of theologians with reverence, but without scorning the philosophers. 57

While Cajetan's advice is surely in the spirit of Aquinas, we should not forget that Aquinas himself usually wrote from the perspective of a Christian theologian. As such, he could not regard moral virtues uninformed by God's gift of charity as either perfect

55· Summa theologiae (= ST) I-IIae, q. 65, a. 2; II-IIae, q. 23, a. 7. 56. O. Lottin, "Les vertus morales acquises sont-clles de vraies vertus? La reponse

des theologiens de saint Thomas a Pierre Auriol," Recherches de Theologie ancienne et meruevale 2r (1954): 10r-29, esp. 102-3; E. Gilson, The Christian Philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas, trans. 1. Shook (New York, r956), 340-341; G. Klubertanz, "Une theorie sur les vertus morales 'naturelles' et 'surnaturelles,''' Revue Thomiste 59 (1959): 565-75; 1. Hamain, "Morale chretienne et realites terrestres: Vne rcponse de saint Thomas d'Aquin: la 'beatitude imparfaite,'" Recherches de Theologie ancienne et medievale 35 (r968) r34-76, 260-90, esp. 266-72. Objections to the MacIntyrean interpretation of Aquinas different from those raised in the present study are presented in r. Coleman, "MacIntyre and Aquinas," in After MacJntyre: Critical Perspectives on the Work of Alasdair Mac[ntyre, ed. J. Horton and S. Mendus {Cambridge-Oxford, r994),65-90 .

57· Thomas de Vio (Cajetan), commentary on ST II-IIae, q. 23, a. 7, Sancti Thomae de Aquino opera omnia (Leonine ed., Rome, r882-), voL 8, 172.


. or virtues without qualification. By describing them as VlItueS "true but imperfect" virtues he was nonetheless able to make an important distinction Augu~tine did not: between those pagans with true, albeit imperfecti vlItues and those who h.ave the appearance of virtue but are, in facti motivated by secret VIce:

Just as the end is twofold, one ultimate and the other pro~mate, so

t the good is twofold, one ultimate and the other prmumate and 00 d' h . articular. Mankind's ultimate and principal goo IS t e enJoy-~ent of God ... I to which man is directed by charity. On the other hand mankind's secondary and quasi-particular good can be twofold: lone that is truly good inasmuch as it is, by its very n~ture, capable of being directed to the principal good that is t~e ultimate

d. the other an apparent but not a true good, because It leads one :~~y from the final good. It is plain, then, that true virtue simpliciter is that which directs one to mankind's principal good ... i ~d understood in this way, no true virtue can exist without chantYi but if virtue is understood in relation to some particular end, something can be called a virtue without charity, ins.ofar as it is ~irected to some particular good. However, if that parucular_ good IS not a true good, but merely apparent, the virtue related to ~is good will not be a true virtue, but merely a false likeness of vlItue, as the prudence of the greedy is not a true virtu~ .... Yet if that par~icula.r good is a true good, such as the preservau~n of the c~mmumty [CIvitas] or the like, it will indeed be a true vlItuel but Impertect, unless it is referred to the final and perfect good.

5B

58. ST II-IIae, q. 23, a. T "Sicut ergo duplex est finis, unus ultimus, et al~us pro~mus. ita etiam est duplex bonum, unum quidem ultimum, et universale; et ahud proxlmu~, et particulare; ultimum quidem, et principale bonum hominis est Dei fruitio

et ad hoc ordinatur homo per caritatem. Bonum autem secundarium, et quasi par

~c~lare hominis potest esse duplex: unum quidem, quod est vere bonum, utpote ordinabHe, quantum est in se, ad principale bonum, quod est ultimus finis: aliud autem eS,t bonum apparens, et non verum; quia abducit a finali bono: sic ergo patet, quod virtus vera simpliciter est illa, quae ordinat ad principale bonum hominis ... ; et sic nulla vera virtus potest esse sine caritate: sed si accipiatur virtus, secundum quod est in ordine ad aliquem finem particularem, sic potest aliqua virtus did sine caritate, inqua~turn ordinatur ad aliquod particulare bonum: sed si illud particulare bonum non S1t

verum bonum, sed apparens, virtus etiam quae est in ordine ad hoc bonum, non erit

vera virtus, sed falsa simiHtudo virtutis: sicut non est vera virtus avarorum prudentia .... Si vero illud bonum particulare sit verum bonum, puta conservatio civitatis, vel aliquid huiusmodi, erit quidem vera virtus, sed imperfecta, nisi referatur ad finale, et

perfectum bonum."


Aquinas was one of many scholastics to judge non-Christians capable of acquiring true moral virtues. Toward the end of the thirteenth century it became standard to distinguish between natural, moral goodness, which makes one an admirable member of human soc~ety in the present life, and supernatural, meritorious goodness, whIch makes one eligible for the perfect happiness of the afterlife. According to AqUlnas, charity is indeed lithe form of all virtues ll in the sense that it perfects all the other virtues and constitutes the source of all meritorIous goodness. Charity is not the form of all virtues in the sense that there can be 110 true moral virtue without it for Aquinas, unlike Augustine, believed that the goodness of hu~ man nature has not been totally corrupted by original sin. He according.ly restricted Paul's judgment, "Whatever does not proceed from faIth is sin," to meritonous goodness, insisting that unbelievers can perform good deeds for which the good of nature suffices. 59

Aquinas disagreed with Augustine on the status of non-Christian virtues partly because he did not think all moral virtues must be rel~ted to an ~ltimate, supernatural end. On the contrary, he argued agaIn and agam that there are two ends (one natural, the other supernatural), two kinds of happiness, and two related kinds of virtues.

60

Natural virtues, which we can acquire through our own efforts, direct us to an end commensurate with human nature: the kind of happiness, however imperfect, that we can attain through our own natural resources in the present life. In contrast, the super-

59· ST II-liae, q. IO, a. 4; q. 23, a. 7, ad 1. Aquinas's position was later endorsed by the Roman Catholic Church. In r567 Pius V, the same pope who declared Aquinas a doctor of the Church, condemned as heretical the thesis: 11 All the deeds of unbelievers are .sins, and the virtues of the philosophers are vices." MichaeI Baius, the Belgian theologtan who had defended this thesis, complained that it was backed by the authority of St. Paul and St. Augustine. The pope responded by reiterating his original condemnation, ordering Baius not only to submit but to produce a formal disavowal.

60. One can find this crucial distinction in many articles of the Prima secundae. The most helpful discussions are probably I-Hae, q. 62, a. I, and q. 63, a. 3; but see also q. 3, a. 6; q. 4, aa. 5-6; q. 5, a. 5· Bear in mind, though, that the Summa theoiogiae is a textbook intended for those just beginning to study moral theology-which means in practice, that Aquinas often presents issues in less detail and with less argument than he does elsewhere. On this particular distinction and issues connected with it a work

contemporary with the Secunda pars of the Sl:Imma-namely, Aquinas's disputed questions "On the Virtues in General/l_is more informative. See especially De virtutibus in communi, q. un., aa. 9-10.


natural virtues of faith, hope, and charity direct us to our ultimate end. Since our ultimate end is the absolutely perfect happiness that comes from the vision of God in the afterlife, it exceeds the limits of what human nature can attain on its own and can be achieved only through God's grace. 61

.

The Thomistic division between natural moral virtues, which anyone might have, and supernatural virtues, which Christians alone can have, is very strong indeed. Virtues directed to the happiness of the present life are of one kind, virtues directed to heavenly happiness of another. Aquinas goes so far as to posit the existence of supernatural moral virtues given by God together with the virtues of faith, hope, and charity. As natural justice, courage, temperance, and so on, are directed by natural prudence to the happiness of the present life, so supernatural justice, courage, temperance, and so on, are directed to the end established by charity: the perfect happiness of the afterlife. 62 As natural moral virtues receive intellectual guidance from natural prudence, so supernatural moral virtues re* ceive intellectual guidance from supernatural prudence, which in turn is guided by {supernatural) charity.63

Although supernatural moral virtues figure in the teachings of Aquinas, not all masters of the period made a place for them. Duns Scotus, for example, thought it entirely unnecessary to posit such virtues.64 Certain twentieth-century scholars of a Thomistic bent agree, albeit reluctantly, that supernatural moral virtues are a bad idea·.65 Others think supernatural moral virtues a good idea, in part because they highlight the difference between characteristically Christian moral virtues and the moral virtues of nonChristians. 66

But even among Aquinas's most loyal defenders there remains

61. ST J-Uae, q. 62, a. I.

62. On infused moral virtues see ST I-liae, q. 63, aa. 3-4,. q. 65, aa. 2-4,. De virtutibus in communi, q. un., a. la, ad 8,·14, 16, r8 j a. 12, corp. & ad 12; De vlrtutibus cQrdinalibus, q. un, a. 2, corp.j see also Scriptmn super libros SententiQrum, dist. 33, q. I,

aa.2-3· 63. STI-IIae, q. 65, a. 4, ad I. 64. Scotus, Ormnatio 1Il, dist. 36, in A. WoIter, ed., Duns Scotus on the will and

Morality (Washington, D.C., 1986), 414-416. For Cajetan's reply to Scotus's criticisms of Aquinas see his commentary on ST I-IIae, q. 63, a. 3 (Leonine ed., VI, 4°9-10).

65· E.g., O. Lottin, Principes de morale, vol. 2 (Lollvain, 1947), 213-25. 66. E.g., R. Mclnerny, EthicQ Thomistica (Washington, D.C., 1982), 121-23.


ample room for disagreement, and sometimes on the most basic questions imaginable.

For example, in the vast tome that is the Secunda secundae (the "second part of the secondpart" of the Summa theologiael J Aquinas begins with a discussion of faith, hope, and charity; then he moves to a detailed description of various moral virtues and related vices. Now arc those moral virtues he describes natural moral virtues, as MacIntyrc claims, or are they supernatural moral virtues, as many other scholars claim?67 Because Aquimis never says explicitly that the Secunda secundae focuses exclusively on supernatural virtues, the question remains open to debate. At most one can say that some of the moral virtues discussed in the Secunda secundae-for example, the virtue of religion-must be supernatural,68 and the work's structure would suggest that all the other virtues are supernatural as well. (That is, as faith, hope, and charity are gifts of God, so too are all the moral virtues discussed afterward.)

Aquinas's teachings also leave open to interpretation the relation between natural and supernatural moral virtues in the individual Christian. Scholars can take either of two positions. One, advanced by Gilson, holds that no such relation exists. Only non-Christians have natural moral virtuesi all moral virtues in someone with the God-given virtue of charity are likewise gifts of God, and thus the philosophical problem of explaining interrelations between natural and supernatural virtues in the individual agent does not arise.69

67. MacIntyre, Whose Justice? 205: "Hence it is ... no accident that the discussion of law in Aquinas in the Prima Secundae leads straight into the treatment of grace, the only remedy for disobedience to law, and that the account of the natural virtues in the Secunda Secundae had to have as its prologue an inquiry into the supernatural virtues." For the opposing view see Gilson, Christian Philosophy of st. Thomas, 333-50, esp. 338-39; R. Garrigou-Lagrange, Christian Perfection and Contemplation according to St. Thomas Aquinas and St. Tohn of the Cross, trans. M. T. Doyle (St. Louis, 1939), 61-62.

68. In STII-IIae, q. 81, a. 5, Aquinas says that religion is amoral virtue, not a theological virtue, because theological virtues have the ultimate end for their object, whereas religion concerns means to the end-which automatically suggests he sees religion as one of the supernatural moral virtues connected with charity; and in a. 6 he ranks religion preeminent among the moral virtues concerning means ordered to God as an ultimate end. For further discussion see Gilson, Christian Philosophy of st. Thomas,

333-39· 69. Gilson, Christian Philosophy of St. Thomas, 338-40.


Given his tendency to emphasize Aquinas's theology, one cannot be surprised that Gilson sees Aquinas as relatively close to Augustine on this point, at least to the extent of leaving an Augustinian-style division between non-Christians, who have only natural moral virtues, and Christians, who have only supernatural moral virtues. Perhaps Aquinas did countenance that division, but it seems hard to square with texts where he argues that we need both natural and supernatural virtues, and that an act of natural virtue can become meritorious only by means of supernatural virtue.

7o

The alternative interpretation, which holds that natural and supernatural moral virtues can coexist in the same individual, unfortunately requires one to explain how the two kinds of virtues might be related, and how the possession of both is compatible with the psychological unity of the agent. 71 How, exactly, can one agent be directed to two ends? If he desires the happiness of this life only for the sake of eternal happiness, the happiness of this life seems to lose its status as an endi but if he desires both worldly happiness and eternal happiness, how does he reconcile the two ends in practice? Is it enough that the demands of supernatural virtue override those of natural virtue when the two conflict, or must the virtuous Christian try to make himself as worthy of eternal happiness as he possibly can, or is there some other way he might balance his love of family friends and community with his love of God? Note that these , , questions cannot be avoided by scrapping the Thomistic doctrine of supernatural moral virtues. Even if one posits only the natural moral virtues and the theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity, the problems remain, for as long as the natural virtues are allowed to have a natural end, one will need to explain how that end may be subordinate to, but not eliminated by, the supernatural end of eter

nal happiness.72

70. See, for example De virtutibus in communi, q. un. a.I, ad Hi a. 10, ad 4· 71. For some attempted solutions see R. Coerver, The Quality of Facility in the

Moral Virtues (Washington, ne, 1946); G. Bullet, Vertus morales infuses et vertus morales acquises se10n saint 'Thomas d'Aquin (Fribourg, 1958); and especiallyKluber

tanz, "Une theorie sur les vertuS morales." 72. For helpful discussion see S. MacDonald, "Ultimate Ends in Practical Reason

ing: Aquinas's Aristotelian Moral Psychology and Anscolllbe's Fallacy," Philosophical

Reviewroo (I991): 31-65.


The standard story of an epic conflict between Aristotelianism and AugustinianisID1 overcome by the Thomistic synthesis} overlooks the fact that many thinkers of the period were working to Iee .. oncile Aristotle's teachings with Augustine's, as well as with the teachings of other fI authorities. il The problems were serious, the philosophical debate was genuine} the proposed solutions were various/ and each had its own weaknesses-greater or lesser, depending upon one's point of view.

Some Caveats

The present study does not attempt to prove Thomistic teachings correct, nor does it attempt to prove them mistaken. While it focuses mainly on masters who disagreed with Aquinas, its chief aim is to recover part of a late thirteenth-century dialogue about the will and morality. That dialogue is understood as an exchange between highly intelligent but nonetheless flawed human beings-not as a battle between the forces of light and darkness, not even as a battle between heroes struggling to preserve virtue ethics and villains striving to obliterate it. Our account is neither a parable nor a murder mystery nor a ~ragedy of decline and disintegration. If Christian thinkers radically altered Aristotles conception of the virtues} perhaps they did so for good reason. If some of the changes co;'tributed to the decline of virtue ethics in the long run, perhaps the outcome was unavoidable. Perhaps Christian doctrine simply could not be combined with classical virtue ethics in such a way that the hybrid would survive. And perhaps the gain for Western moral thought was as great as the loss.

It may be something akin to heresy for a study of scholastic ethics to suggest that the decline of virtue ethics was anything less than a monumental tragedy. I present this, however, merely as a possibility, as an open question. We are still far from understanding the difficulties of reconciling Aristotelian ethics with Christian theology} the zones of tension between the two, and the serious problems faced by those philosopher-theologians who attempted a synthesis. Even the much-discussed Thomistic synthesis has so often been the object of passionate apologetics that it is difficult to analyze and assess it in philosophical 'terms. But if we do not understand in any


detail scholastic ethics, how can mourning its loss be anything more than an article of faith or an exercise in nostalgiaf It seems to me that we should first try to understand the Christian reworking of classical virtue ethics and the problems involved. Only after we have gained such understanding are we in a position to judge that the decline of virtue ethics was indeed a tragedy and that Western moral thought lost much more than it gained. Understanding is the first challenge} judgment the second. The present study is intended primarily as a contribution to understanding.

I shall try to correct certain aspects of what I have called the standard story while questioning others; I shall discuss masters often given short shrift in the secondary literature; and} in general, I shall try to present late thirteenth-century disputes as they were seen at the time. While the resulting account might avoid some of the usual pitfalls, it will still be partial and provisional, as all historical studies must be, and in the end it might well raise more questions than it answers. For example, I will not argue that the line between Aquinas's moral philosophy and his moral theology should be drawn in one place rather than another, nor will I attempt the same line-drawing exercise with reference to other scholastics. The phil~sophy-versus-theology question has already been discussed by others; I have nothing original to contribute to the discussion; and, in my judgment, this question represents an area of research and interpretation in its own right. For present purposes} it should suffice to explain roughly what I count as virtue Ifethics" and to give some sense of this study's limitations.

I do not mean by "ethics" only those insights one scholastic writer or another believed a human being might attain by reason. alone} without the benefit of revelation, or of divinely infused virtues, or both. (If we restricted scholastic 11 ethicsl! along those lines, not only would very little be left, it would not be at all clear exactly what was left.) Nor do I operate with some tidy division by genre and faculty affiliation, so that anything written by a master of arts counts as 11 ethics," as does anything written by a master of theology in a commentary on Aristotle's Ethics, whereas any material from a commentary on the Sentences, a theological textbook, or a disputation conducted by theology faculty counts as IImoral theology. I!

Although the division by genre and faculty may be attractive to


the modern eye, the net effect is both excessively restrictive and profoundly misleading. Our present distinctions between "philosophy" and "theology" (and likewise flhistory"), even to the extent we agree upon such distinctions, do not correspond at all well with scholastic genres, or even with scholastic faculties. By today's standards, much of what appears in Aquinas's Summa theologiae is philosophy (based on reason alone) rather than theology (reliant on revelation or faith at crucial junctures). By today's standards, much of what appears in Aquinas's commentary on the Ethics is history (albeit sometimes flawed history); some of it is philosophy; and a little of it, at least arguably, is theology. If we limited virtue l/ethics" to what might count by today's standards as "moral philosophy," especially as understood by nonsectarian philosophy departments, and if we then proceeded to sort texts by genre and authorship (master of arts versus master of theology), not only would we limit the virtue ethics of Aquinas to his commentary on Aristotle's Ethics, we would also exclude the Franciscans from any contribution to virtue ethics before the fourteenth century, when the first Franciscan commentary on the Ethics was written. Both Duns Scotus and William of Ockham would thus be written out of the history of virtue ethics in the later Middle Ages. Masters of arts would be overrepresented; Aquinas would be grossly underrepresented; and most of Aquinas's critics, usually masters of theology, would be entirely excluded.

Instead of trying to distinguish moral philosophy from moral theology, or making divisions by genre and authorship, this study follows three rules of thumb in its selection of source material: (1) it focuses mainly on the Continent, especially the University of Paris, and deals with developments at Oxford only when necessary-in part because Paris was dominant during this period, in ,part just because one cannot include everything in a relatively short work; (2) it focuses on writers who taught theology rather than arts, not only because we have more of their writings but also because, at least in the late thirteenth century, they were usually more mature and interesting philosophers; and .. (3) it focuses on naturally acquired virtues rather than virtues given by God.

Because the overall aim of this study is to explain the voluntarist movement in psychology and ethics that preceded Duns Scotus,


comparatively little will be said about Scotus's own views. At most, I shall provide a very brief sketch of issues on which Scotus followed the teachings of his predecessors or proposed new solutions to some of the problems their teachings raised. Readers interested in learning more about Scotus's thought would do well to consult studies by Allan WoIter, John Boler, B. M. Bonansea, and others. 73

Given that voluntarism is the chief focus, I pay less attention to Godfrey of Fontaines, Giles of Rome, and other "intellectualist" masters than they deserve on philosophical merit. Though I give careful consideration to Aquinas, trying my best not to distort his teachings, a certain amount of distortion is probably inevitable. Aquinas is a systematic and comprehensive thinker, so that reporting his teachings on one issue without reporting all the collateral doctrines tends to mislead. It is partly in an effort to keep the distortion to a minimum that chapters 4 and 5 include lengthy accounts of Aquinas's views. While this leaves less space for discussion of voluntarist objections and replies, the presentation of Aquinas's teachings does double duty as an introduction to the philosophical terrain. For example, whether, a master posits courage and temperance in the will depends partly on his understanding of how courage and temperance differ from justice, his conception of prudence, and his views on the relationship between prudence and moral virtue. Scholastic moral thought is tightly woven: pull hard on a single thread, and the whole cloth tends to unravel. The connections between issues are easiest to explain when one has a large body of material to draw on, as one does in the case of Aquinas.

When this investigation reaches an end, we shall have a better understanding of why all moral virtues were attributed to the will

n. See especially WoIter, Duns Scotus on the will and Morality, and The Philosophical Theology of John Duns Scotus, ed. M. Adams (Ithaca, 1990); Baler, "The Moral Psychology of Duns Scotus: Some Preliminary Questions." Franciscan Studies 50 (r990): 31-56, "Transcending the Natural: Duns Scotus on the Two Affections of the Will," American Catholic Philosophical Quarterly 67 (r993): 109-26, and "An Image for the Unity of will in Duns Scotus," Journal of the History of Philosophy 32 (1994): 23-44; Bonansea, Man and His Approach to God in Tohn Duns Scotus (Lanham, Md., r983). One might also wish to consultM. Ingham, Ethics and Freedom: An HistoricalCritical Investigation of Scotist Ethical Thought (Lanham, Md., 1989), and "Scotus and the Moral Order," American Catholic Philosophical Quarterly 67 (1993): 127-50.


some five centuries before Kant declared that only a good will can be called good without qualification. We shall also have a better understanding of various problems Christians encountered when attempting to rework classical virtue ethics. Though we shall not have some new story to replace' the standard story of the late thirteenth century, we will have made a beginning.

--- ._ ... _-_.

2

ARISTOTLE AMONG THE CHRISTIANS

Suppose we abandon the Thomistic point of view, along with preconceived notions of some clash between If Augustinianism ll and If Aristotelianism. 1I Suppose we leave behind any worries about Reformation theology and modern philosophy and attempt to see late thirteeth-century developments with a more innocent eye. Since we are working to trace the fortunes of virtue ethics, we want to know what scholastics, especially those now typically labelled 11 Augustinian,l! made of Aristotle's teachings. Did they pit Augustine's authority in ethics against Aristotle's? Did they attack Aquinas and his followers for excessive loyalty to Aristotle, possibly even for foolishly attempting to reconcile Aristotle's teachings with Christian doctrine?

Instead of looking for some 11 Augustinian" school that we suspect of having used condemnations in the thirteenth century much as Joseph McCarthy used Senate hearings in the twentieth century-11 Are you now or have you ever been a member of the Aristotelian party?"-Iet us try to understand how masters of the period saw themselves and each other, what alignments actually arose, and, above all, what role Aristotle's ethics might have played in the ensuing controversies.

39


Radical Aristotelians

The Nicomachean Ethics enjoyed a strange distinction in thir·, teenth-century Paris: like Aristotles 10gicI but unlike his Metaphysics l his Physics, De anima, arid other works of natural philosophy, the Ethics had never been banned. But one should not lcap to the conclusion that Aristotlels ethics wasl by its very naturel more easily assimilated into a Christian framework than his physics or metaphysics. Quite possibly, there was simply less material to assimilate.

Not until 1246-47 did Robert Grosseteste produce the first complete Latin translation of the Ethics. He joined to it translations of the commentary of Eustratius on Books I and VII the commentary of Michael of Ephesus on Books VI IX, and X, the commentary of Aspasius on Book VIlli and anonymous ancient glosses on Books IIV. l Before then, only the first three books of the Ethics were available in Latin translation. Even in 12551 when the Paris arts faculty announced that all the known works of Aristotle would henceforth be required readingl only three books of the Ethics were included in the syllabus.' Thus it seems that limited knowledge of the Ethics might partly explain why it escaped prohibition. Though misinterpretations naturally arose in the period when only three books of the Ethics were known, or perhaps because they arose, this partial view of Aristotles moral teachings was not difficult to reconcile with Christian doctrine.3 Only later, when scholastics had a complete translation of the Ethics at their disposal, did Aristotlels moral philosophy become controversial.

It is possible that the study of Aristotle alone would have led to conflict. It is certain that-the study of Aristotle together with the commentaries of Averroes did. Averroes had advocated the separa-

1. R.-A. Cauthier and J. Joli( Aristote. L'Ethique cl Nicomaque, 2d ed., vo!. LI

(Loll vain-Paris, 1970), nO-2I.

2. Chartularium Universitatis Parisiensis, ed. H. Denifle and A. Chatelain, vol. I

(Paris, 1889), 278. The statute's reference to four books is deceptive. At the time it was common to end Book III of the Ethics at chapter 8, labeling chapters 9-15 as Book IV.

3. Some examples of these early misreadings are given in G. Wieland, "Happiness" and "The reception and interpretation of Aristotle's Ethics," in The Cambridge His

toryof Later Medieval PhilosophYI6S8-S9, 677.

ARISTOTLE AMONG THE CHRISTIANS 4 I

tion of philosophy from theologyl and some of the thirteenth-century masters in the arts faculty followed his advice. They defended philosophical positions that often ran counter to Christian doctrine. Perhaps some of them also defended the supreme authority of philosophy within the realm of natural reason, though the bestknown disclaimer, by Siger of Brabant, was roughly: If I am more concerned with the philosophers' opinions than with the truth, since I am proceeding philosophically. ", (Today he would surely have said he was proceeding "historically," not "philosophically.")

Siger was a master of arts at Paris who never went on to study in the school of theology. His orthodoxy is a point long debated by historians. Some have taken his disclaimers seriously; others have regarded them as so many insincere, self-protective hedges. Theologians of Siger's own day inclined toward the latter view, and his teachings became the center of a heated controversy beginning in

the 1260s. It is difficult to say what Siger and his associates in the arts fac

ulty should be called. Although in their own time they were sometimes called IIAverroists," modern scholars have challenged the ac~ curacy of this label. In the first place, not all the teachings of Siger and company were based on Averroes. Some were derived from Avicenna, some from Proclus, and many were suggested by Aristotle himself. Second, Thomas Aquinas, who might well have coined the term 11 Averroist/' can be understood as applying it in a very restricted sense. Though Thomas never defined the term, Van Steenberghen argues that he used it only to signify proponents of mono~ psychism, that Thomas did not use 11 A verroist" broadly, to signify advocates of any number of heterodox doctrines defended without concern for their conflict with Christian teachings. Van Steenberghen claims that the broad use of 11 Averroist" began only in the early fourteenth century, with the polemical treatises of Raymond Lull.s Finally, the masters labelled by modern scholars a~ "Averroists" did not see themselves as disciples of Averroes: they saw themselves as defenders of Aristotle. Hence, "secular AIistotelian~ ism," "independent Aristotelianism,1I IIheterodox AIistotelian-

4. Siger of Brabant, Tractatus de anima intellectiva, cap. 3, 6, 7 (Bazan ed., 83-84,

99-100,101).

s. La philosophie au xnr siecle, 33 T-32.

42 ARISTOTLE AMONG THE CHRISTIANS

ism, /I and "radical Aristotelianism" have all been suggested as alternatives to "Averroism."

Kimon Giocarinis has faulted Van Steenberghen for excessively restricting the scope of If A verroist. 1I He claims that Thomas was not thinking only of monopsychism when he attacked the fI Averroistsll-that the unicity of the human intellect was just one part of a body of interconnected doctrines inimical to Christian teachings and, more, that thirteenth-century thinkers saw it as such. The only related doctrine Giocarinis mentions is the eternity of the world.6 Yet Thomas's treatise against the "Averroists" does link other errors to the erroneous doctrine of monopsychism. He argues, for example, that the unicity of the intellect leads to the de~ nial of the individual will, which entails that a man is not master of his own acts and thereby destroys the foundations of moral phi~ losophy.'

Whether Thomas regarded these allied doctrines as IIAverroist" is another matter. Although the term appears in the title of his treatise on the unicity of the intellect, it is neither used nor ex~ plained in the text. Perhaps Thomas used 11 Averroist" to signify only a proponent of monopsychismi perhaps he took monopsych~ ism to be just one of several" Averroist" doctrines. We simply cannot know what Thomas had in mind. Nevertheless, it seems plain that even in its origin the term was not purely descriptive. What~ ever Thomas meant by IIAverroist/' he did not mean simply lIone who follows Averroes./I He meant lIone who follows Averroes in distorting Aristotle." The main goals of Thomas's treatise against the "Averroists" are to prove that Aristotle himself did not teach the unicity of the intellect, that on this issue Averroes is a per~ verter of Aristotle's philosophy, and that the position of Averroes is not only contrary to the faith but also philosophically unsound. The charge that Thomas repeats again and again is that Averroes "perversely explains" Aristotle, that he perverts Aristotle's meaning.s

6. Giocarinis, "An Unpublished Late ,Thirteenth-Century Commentary on the Ni· comachean Ethics of Aristotle," Traditio r5 (r959): 324-26.

7. Tractatus de unitate intellectus contra Averroistas, Ill, OD. 81-82 [Keeler ed.,

SI). 8. Ibid., I, nn. 7-8; IT, n. 59; IV, n. 95; V, n. 121 (Keeler ed., 7, Il, 38, 6r, 78).

ARISTOTLE AMONG THE CHRISTIANS 43

Since Siger subsequently relied more on Themistius than on Averroes'to support his reading of Aristotle, we may take it that he was sensitive to Thomas's criticism.9 There can be little doubt that Siger saw himself as an Aristotelian: he followed Averroes only when be believed Averroes to be a sound guide to the philosophy of Aristotle. Averroes was revered first and foremost as lithe Commentator/' not as an independent philosophical authority. IIRadical Aristotelians," or some such term, would thus seem a more accurate label for the troublesome arts masters than 11 Aver~

roists," and hereafter we shall adopt the newer terminology. In calling these thinkers IfAristotelians" we indicate how they saw themselves. In calling them "radical" we indicate how they were seen by many of their contemporaries. Whether on one issue or an~ other they actually were, by today's scholarly standards, either radical or Aristotelian matters little for the purposes of the present study.

Just one word remains to be said about 11 Averroist" before laying the expression to rest. Though Thomas might have coined the term, even in the thirteenth century he did not have a monopoly on its use. One finds it also in Peter Olivi's Summa quaestionum super Sententias (ca. 128o-82L and Olivi does not use the term in the way Aquinas did, or at any rate, in the way that Van Steenberghen says Aquinas did. When Olivi speaks of the IIAverroists'" interpretation of Aristotle, he is not discussing the unicity of the human intellect. The objectionable thesis is rather that whatever God was able to make per se and directly, He made from eternity and by necessity. This, says Olivi, is what the Averroists (A verroistae) believe Aris~ totle to have taught. Yet Olivi does not insist, as Aquinas does, that the A verroists pervert Aristotle's teachings. He is quite comfortable with the idea that Aristotle held views both false and contrary to the faith, and that the Averroists, in propounding these views, inter~ pret Aristotle correctly. Indeed, Olivi says expressly that he is not disputing the A verroist interpretation of Aristotle's position. Yet he stops short of insisting that Aristotle did indeed defend the position

9. Thomas's influence on Siger is discussed inE. Mahoney, "Saint Thomas and Siger of Brabant Revisited," Review of Metaphysics 27 (r974): 539-51; "Sense, Intellect, and Imagination in Albert, Thomas, and Siger," in The Cambridge History of Later Medieval Philosophy, 617-21.


the Averroists attribute to him. Olivi's conclusion is only that if Aristotle made such a judgment regarding God's power, he "judged diabolically, 11 10

Though both Aquinas and Bonaventure opposed the radical Aristotelians, Bonaventure's criticisms were more vehement. It is his name we find most commonly linked to the reaction against "philosophizing" by the masters of arts. BO:Q.3venture had long stressed the need for philosophy to be illumined by faith. As illumination in the arts faculty waned} the Franciscan general's opposition increased. In 1267 and again in 1268, he attacked various radical Aristotelian doctrines} including the eternity of the world, the unicity of the intellect, and lithe fatal necessity of events,l!Il These errors, he warned, are contrary to Scripture and destructive of free choice.

It is surely more than mere coincidence that the same doctrines were among thirteen condemned by Etienne Tempier, the bishop of Paris, on December ID, 1270. The two of the thirteen directly related to ethics reflect Bonaventure's concern to safeguard free choice: liThe will of man wills and chooses by necessity," and IIFree choice is a passive power, not an active one, and it is moved with necessity by the object of desire."12

William of Baglione, regent of the Franciscan school at Paris in 1266-67, was similarly active in opposing the radical Aristotelians. He, too, argued against the eternity of the world, the unicity of the

10.Olivi, Quaestiones in secundum librum Sententiawm, q. 33: "Ad quartum diccndum quod quando dicitur quod caelum occupat totam suam materiam, aut intelligitur de materia quam nunc habet aut de tota materia quam Deus creare posset. Si de prima: sic in nullo excedit corpora alia particularia nisi solum in hoc quod materia sua non potest sibi per viam naturae to11i nec forma sua potest in materia corruptibilium per agens naturale aggenerari. Si vero de secunda hoc accipiatur: tunc est falsum et erroneum, quia Dens posset aliam materiam creare et forma consimilis speciei earn vestire, immo et formam quam nunc habet caelum posset illi materiae dare, qum etiam materiam elementorum posset caelesti forma induere. Non autem per hoc intendo negare quin Aristoteles crediderit Deum ista non posse, quia forte ipse sensit quod Deus fecit caelum ita magnum quam facere potuit et quod quicquid facere potuit per se. et immediate totum fecit ab aeterno et necessario. Sic enim Averroistae credunt eum sensisse. Si autem ita sensit, diabolice sensit" (Jansen ed., I, 607).

I I. See especially De doms Spiritus Sancti, VIII. 12. Chart. Univ. Par., I, 487.


intellect, and other doctrines subsequently condemned.13 In this first condemnation, Bishop Tempier evidently had strong support from influential theologians. Aquinas, Bonaventure, and at least one other prominent Franciscan master were all 'attacking the teachings of the arts faculty in the years immediately preceding Tempier's intervention.

Whether the Franciscans were also attacking Aquinas in this period is a more difficult question. Certainly they argued against some of his teachings, even as Aquinas opposed some of the Franciscans' teachings. The question is whether there was anything more to the criticisms of Aquinas than what one usually finds in that strange combination of personal conflicts and professional disagreements so common in academic disputes-whether, perhaps, "anti-Thomism" could correctly be attributed to Franciscans in the period before 1270. Without reviewing all of the evidence on both sides of the question, r shall suggest with Van Steenberghen that the antagonism between the mendicant orders properly began around 1270, and that, while Bonaventure may have somehow inspired the antiThomist offensive in the Franciscan order, he should not be regarded as its founder. 14 Doubtless' one can find Franciscans arguing

. heatedly against Aquinas before 1270. Ignatius Brady, for example, has shown that in 1267 WiJliam of Baglione sharply criticized Thomas's position on the individuation of the human soul. 15 In this period, however, one finds only isolated instances of criticism. Around 1270 the criticisms begin to be more commoni and after 1277, with William de la Mare's Correctorium, there emerges in the Franciscan Order a general opposition to the philosophy and influence of Aquinas.

In the late 1260s Franciscan theologians at Paris were far more worried about the radical Aristotelians' teachings than the teachings of Thomas Aquinas. They acted together with Aquinas in trying to bring the arts masters to heeL But did the Franciscans, in attacking the radical Aristotelians, also attack Aristotle himself? Did they reject Aristotle's authority or insist that Augustine's teachings were to be followed instead of Aristotle's? The works usually asso-

13. Ignatius Brady, "Background to the Condemnation of 1270: Master William of Baglione, O.F.M./, Franciscan Studies 30 (1970): 5-48.

14· La philosophie au XIII" siecle, 410. 15. Brady, "Background/, 7nI2, 33.


ciated with Franciscan hostility to Aristotle date from the 1270S

and later. Before 1270 one finds very little that could reasonably be construed as antagonistic.16

William of Baglione's question on the unicity of the intellect is a case in point. After attributing the doctrine to Averroes, he cites apparently supportive texts from Aristotle, Augustine, and Anselm. The attribution of the doctrine to Averro.es is reiterated in William's reply, and the apparently supportive passages from other authorities are' subsequently explained. Aristotle is acquitted of having defended the unicity of the intellect, as are Anselm and Augustine. Averroes remains as the sole source of this "pernicious error.,,17

Bonaventure: Collationes in Hexaemeron

Although Thomas's treatise on the unicity of the intellect evidently led Siger to modify his position, the condemnation of 1270

seems to have had surprisingly little impact on the arts masters. This is not to say that they utterly ignored the condemnation, but only that they did not significantly alter their methods, and so caused increasing concern among theologians. When the radical Aristotelians proved largely undaunted by Tempier's action, Bonaventure redoubled his efforts against them. His collationes on the six days of creation (in HexaemeronL given during Lent of 1273, contain his strongest criticisms of the movement. All the errors propounded in the arts faculty are traced to the doctrine that God knows only Himself, which Bonaventure says Aristotle taught in rejecting Plato's ideas. IS The same doctrines criticized in the lectures of 1267 and 1268 are again attacked, but with anew bitterness. It is the Collationes in Hexaemeron more than any other work that historians see as foreshadowing the condemnation of 1277.19

We shall consider the 1277 condemnation below. Here let us fo-

r6. On Bonaventure's attitude toward Aristotle during this period see Van Steenber

ghen, La philosophie aux XIIt' silkJe, 203-22.

17. Brady, "Background," 35-45. r8. Collationes in Hexaemeron, coIl. 6, nn. 2-5 lQuaracchi ed., V, 360-61i Delorme

ed., 91-92). When referring to both editions of this work, I cite the divisions of the text

used by the Quaracchi editors. r9. Gilson, History of Christian Philosophy, 404-5, 726038i Gauthier, L'Ethique,

vol. I.1, 132.


cus on Bonaventure's Hexaemeron and see what it has 'to say about Aristotle's ethics. With the notable exception of Rene Gauthier, historians have written comparatively little on this topic. Gauthier, however, has come to some strong conclusions. He regards the Hexaemeron as a merciless attack on "false philosophy" and most particularly on Aristotle, "the master of error." Gauthier writes:

The Nicomachean Ethics occupied in St. Bonaventure's polemic a place of choice. No doubt it was, in his eyes, a bad book. The source of all Aristotle's errors is in the denial of ideas. Now is itnot in the Ethics, in chapter 4 of Book I, that this error appears in its most outrageous form? And one sees the consequences of it. From here comes the denial of providence. From here comes the ignorance of the world's organization in view of the reward of the good and the punishment of the wicked. For Aristotle, neither Hell nor the demons nor the happiness of the afterlife exists. Besides, how could it be otherwise if it is true he taught the eternity of the world and the unity of the intellect? From these two errors are necessarily derived the denial of the happiness and the penalties of the afterlife. And what a lot of other errors in the Philosopher's ethics! Did he not say, for example, that one must do good to his friends and evil to his enemies? But Christ himself taught us to love all men. Did he not claim that magnanimity consists in desiring honor? But whatever he might have said about it, it is not there that we learn the Truth. The magnanimity of which we are taught is no other. than humility itself, which consists in despising what is vile and esteeming what is truly great, i.e., in despising the false greatness of this world and in esteeming eternal goods.

Certainly, and St. Bonaventure well knows} people have claimed to excuse the Philosopher for all these errors. They say, for examplc, that he indeed had forebodings of the existence of eternal beatitude, but that he had not wished to speak of it because that was not his subject. One recognizes here the position of St. Thomas. The truth is that the philosophers-even those noble philosophers} thosCj clear minds who, like Plotinus and Cicero, had admitted the ideas land the immortality of the soul-could not reach the truth because they did not have the light of faith. They were all plunged in darkness.20

20. R.-A. Gauthier, "Trois commeotaires 'averroistes' sur l'Ethique cl Nicomaque, IJ

Archives d'Histoire DoctIinale et litteraire du Moyen Age 1611947-48): 329-30.


Gauthier is certainly right to stress the errors that Bonaventure enumerates. Bonaventure does see all the egregious mistakes of philosophy as stemming from Aristotles rejection of exemplar ideas and his affirmation that God knows only Himself. The conclusion of this well-known diatribe is nevertheless not against Aristotle. It is against those who follow blindly wherever the Philosopher leads, unable to believe that he ever taught anything except the truth. These remarks are quite consistent with Bonaventure}s program in the Hexaemeron, ~hich is not to flagellate Aristotle but to refute the false teachings of the arts masters. 21

Bonaventure devotes a later section of the Hexaemeron to acquitting Aristotle of some errors and excusing him for others. He notes' that} while Averroes says Aristotle taught the unicity of the human intellect, Aristotle could be taken to mean "that there is one source of illumination, not that all human intellects in their own right are somehow one. J/ Aristotle did teach the eternity of the world because, judging according to nature, he took the world to be eternal in that sense, recognizing that it could not begin through nature or natural motion. As for happiness} though Aristotle posited it in this life, he believed that there is a life after this one. Perhaps he did not discuss the afterlife because that was not his subject.22 Gauthier

21. In Hexaem., colI. I, n. 9: "Praecessit enim impugnatio vitae Christi in moribus per theologos, et impugnatio doctrinae per faIsas positiones per artistas" (Quaracchi

ed., V, 330). See also below, nn. 40-"41. 22. In Hexaem., colI. 7, nn. 1-2: "Ex quo sequitur tripIex caecitas, scilicet de aeterni

tate mundi, de unitate intellectus, de poena et gloria. Primam videtur ponere Aristote1es, ultimam edam, quia non invenitur, quod ponat felicitatem post hanc vitam; de media autem dicit Commentator, quod ipse hoc sensit.-De aeternitatc mundi excusari posset, quod intellexit hoc ut philosophus, loquens ut naturalis, scilicet quod per naturam non potuit incipere. Quod Intelligentiae habeant perfectionem per motum, pro tanto hoc potuit dicere, quia non sunt otiosae, quia nihil otiosum in fundamento naturae.-Item, quod posuit felicitatem in hac vita, quia, licet sentiret acternam, de ilIa se non intromisit, quia forte non erat de consideratione sua.-De unitate iote}lectus posset dici, quod intellexit, quod est uous intellectus ratione Iucis influcntis, non ratione sui, quia numeratur secundum subiectum/l (Quaracchi ed., V, 365). Cf. DeIorme ed., 99: "De sensu tamen Aristotelis de mundi aeternitatc potest dici quod secundum naturam vcrum sensit, non simpliciter, quia ubique infinitatem reprobat; ct de intellectus unitate potest intellgi quod est unus ratione lucis influentis, non ratione sui, quia, secundum Aristotelem, 'proprius actus est in propria materia' et ideo numeratur ratione subiecti. Et quod posuit felicitatem in hac vita, intelligi potest quantum ad considerationem moralis Philosophi: licet enim aliam vita senserit post istam, ut


gives the impression that Bonaventure merely reports in this section what "people sayll in Aristotle's defense. It is true that some remarks are preceded by "it can be said,J/ but there is no reason to infer that Bonaventure used this construction to indicate his own disagreement with what was_said. The most one can infer is that Bonaventure was noncommittaL His initial attribution of these errors to Aristotle is likewise. qualified by a recurring "videtur."

Gauthiees reading of Bonaventure's Hexaemeron has no doubt been influenced by his reliance on·the text printed in the Quaracchi Opera omnia. That version of the text differs considerably from the ~ne published by Ferdinand Delorme in I934: the language is more violent, and the criticisms of Aristotle are far more frequent. Since both editions are based solely on reportationes (notes by others, rather than the author's own manuscript), it is difficult to know which is more accurate. Patrice Robert judges the Quaracchi edition severely flawed and insists that the Delorme edition be considered as well. Quinn uses both editions, but suggests that the Delorme version represents Bonaventure's true attitude toward Aristotle's thought.2.3

One suspects that some scholars prefer the Delorme edition because it seems far more more consistent with Bonaventure's earlier style and method than the Quaracchi edition. Nevertheless, that preference cannot be casually dismissed as a caSe of wishful thinking. There are serious questions as to which version of the Hexaemeron is more accurate:

(I) While both versions are based exclusively on reportationes, both seem to have claims to authority. The Quaracchi editors give the version of the text they believe had the widest circulation in the Franciscan order. On the other hand, the redactor of the Delorme version says that the exemplar,he is following was seen and approved by Bonaventure himself. He also indicates that his text includes certain corrections, though it is uncertain whether some

expresse habetur ab ipso in I eaeH et mundi, ubi dicit quod est alia vitapotest istam et est melior vita in saecuIa saeculorum, tamen de illa dicere non fuit de sua consideratione, quia alia indiget luminc quam naturali./I

23. P. Robert, "Le probleme de la philosophie bonaventurienne: Discipline autoname ou heteronomel/1 Laval theolagique et philosophique 7 (1951): 36-43; Quinn, Historical Constitution, 626n204.


of these were made by Bonavcnture or by others.M (2) The Quaracchi editors themselves acknowledge that the manuscripts they used contained so many and such considerable differences that only in exceptional cases have they bothered to give the variant reaciings. 25 (3) Siena U. V.6, the codex used by Delorme, was excluded by the Quaracchi editors in preparing their edition of the text. The stated reason for exclusion is that the 1/ collationes in ipso sunt contractae, et etiam forma orationis passim mutatallj yet the editors were probably also influenced by the date of the codex, which they took to be late flfteenth century. Delorme reports that the codex is annotated in the hand of St. Bemardine of Siena and thus dates from the early flfteenth century.26 14) As regards the 11 contracted and altered form" of the Siena codex, two scholars who have studied the treatise believe Delorme's version more accurately reflects the structure of the work. The division into visiones and collationes appears more in accord with Bonaventure's design, though the text as we have it remains incomplete. 27 It should also be said that in some places, especially in passages discussing the virtues, the Delorme version is longer and more elaborate than the Quaracchi version. 28 But on the whole, Delorme's version does seem to be the more abbreviated of the twO.29

The uncertainty surrounding the two redactions of Bonaventure's Hexaemeron becomes especially important when one attempts to determine his attitude toward Aristotle's ethics. The Quaracchi text indicates one approach to Aristotle, the Delorme text a very

24. S. Bonaventurae Opera omnia (Quaracchi ed.L V, xxxvi, xxxix; In Hexaem. (Delonne ed.), xv-xvi, 275.

25. Quaracchi ed., V, xxxvi. The editors mention that the manuscript tradition for the Collationes de decem praeceptis was similarly corrupt.

26. Quaracchi ed., V, xxxix; Delonne ed., vii. 27. E. Synan, "Cardinal Virtucs in the Cosmos of Saint Bonaventure," in S. Bonaven

tura, I274-I974, vol. 3 (Grottaferrata, 1973), 24-27; K. Emery, Jr., "Reading the World Rightly and Squarely: Bonaventure's Doctrine of the Cardinal Virtues," Traditio 39 (1983): 186.

28. Cf. In Hexaem., colI. 4, nn. 6-24 (Quaracchi ed., V, 349-53); Delorme ed., 51-72. 29. Although the overall brevity of the Delorme text is usually taken to indicate its

status as a later (edited) product, Giocarinis draws the opposite conclusion-that Delonne's is "the more primitive and faithful account." The significance of brevity seems to be in the eye of the beholder. See K. Giocarinis, "Eustratius of Nicaea's Defense of the Doctrine ofIdeas," Franciscan Studies 24 (r964): 1641l16.

ARISTOTLE AMONG THE CHRISTIANS SI

different approach. The divergence between the two can be illustrated by their respective treatments of magnanimity. The Quaracchi version reads:

The sixth mean is magnanimity, in order that great things might be valued and base ones despised. This is humility, which despises apparently great things and values those that Seem to be small, yet are truly great. The Philosopher says that magnanimity consists in the desire for honor j but whatever he might say, the truth does not teach this except when honor concerns eternal things. But on the contrary, a certain kind of man values the most vile praise of others, and even when the truth tells him in his own mind that he is evil and worthless, he is puffed up with the praise!30

While the text is not quite so opposed to Aristotle as Gauthier's account would suggest, there is indeed an explicit contrast between Aristotle and the faith. In the Delorme edition, the parallel passage is far more conciliatory:

Man needs magnanimity in order to value great and useful things and despise base ones. And this is a certain humility, since it despises apparently great things and values those that seem to be small, yet are great in the eyes of God. Hence, the truly humble man deserves to be called magnanimous. The Philosopher applies this to the desire for honors, and applies it well when the desire for honor is appropriate for those who desire it. If indeed it were not appropriate, then it would be ambition. Moral honor therefore belongs to what is desirable for the spiritual, namely the eternal, which Christ teaches us to desire, or it is honor that can be related to this, namely the good reputation and good nature of anything according to its condition. But on the contrary, men value vile or transitory praise.31

30. In Hexaem., call. 5, n. 10: "Sexta medictas est magnanimitas, Ut appretientur magna, et despiciantur vilia. Haec est humihtas, quae dcspicit apparentia magna et appretiat ea quae videntur esse parva, sunt tamen magna verc. Philosophus dicit quod magnanimitas est in appetitu honoris; quidquid dicat ipse, hoc non docet veritas, nisi cum honor est aetemorurn. Sed econtra qUidam appretiant unam vilissimam laudem alicuius, cum tamen veritas dicat in mente sibi, quod ipse est pessimus et nequam; et inde effcrt se!" (Quaracchi ed., V, 355).

31. In Hexaem., Visio I, call. 2, n. 10: "Magnanimitate homo indigct, ut appretietur magna et utilia et dcspiciat vilia. Et hoc quaedam humilitas est, cum dcspicit appar-


Here we find the equation of magnanimity with humility defended on the basis of Aristotle's ethics. Aristotle does stress the magnanimous manls scorn for trivial honors, as well as his equanimity when faced with loss of wealth or power, He also makes ambition the vice that seeks hanor in the wrong things and from the wrong sources.32

For Aristotle magnanimity is a preeminently worldly virtue, but there is enough in what he says to sugges,t grounds for some reconciliation with Christian doctrine.

The difference between the two treatments of benevolence (benignitas) is even more striking:

[The Quarrachi edition: I Although the Philosopher may say that one ought to do good to his friends and evil to his enemies, nevertheless Christ says that every man ought to be loved} and help given him, not harm. If I love you and give you either authority or liberty, and ifl give it to you, you will abuse it, then I am not benev~ olent but rather malevolent; and for that reason, in order to be benevolent, I will not give it to you. I have a friend, I have an enemy: the friend will abuse some preference or authority to the injury of himself and the state; if I give it to him, I am not benevolent. My enemy, on the other hand, will use it well: I will give it to him and thereby bring my good from his evil. A father does not fawn upon his son or speak sweetly to him, that the son might not become haughty. The world today knows nothing of that 'benevolence; whence lithe whole world lies in wickedness," since man loves only his own private good.

[The Delortne edition: 1 Man needs justice or benevolence in order to will evil to no one! especially to himself; that he might neglect his own good for the sake of no benefit; that he might be prepared for reconciliation, for the forgiveness of injuries. Such benevolence or mercy lies in this! that by a certain justice, fairness! or pliancy! he might wish for every man-especially himself-that

entia magna et appretiatur ea quae videntur parva, sunt tamen coramDeo magna. Unde humilis verus meretur dici magnanimus. Hanc Philosophus applicat ad appetitum ho· norum; et bene quidem quando honor est conveniens appetenti: si enim esset non conveniens, tunc esset ambitio. Est ergo honot moralis spirituali appetibilis, scilicet aeternus, quem Christus appetere docet, sive honor ad hunc ordinabilis, scilicet bona fama et natura cuiuslibet secundum statum suumj sed e converso quidam laudem vilem vel

transitoriam appretiantur" (Delorme ed., 79). 32. EN rr24arr1-19, 1I2Sb9-1I.


which is most advantageous, whether to what is desired or what is beneficial. 33

According to the Quaracchi version, Bonaventurc pressed his listeners to choose between Aristotle's teachings and Christ's, between self-interest and virtue. According to the Delorme version, Bonaventure offered a compromise. Instead of emphasizing the conflict between self-interest and virtue, he emphasized the harmony between them. The reconciliation of Aristotle's ethics with Christian ethics is effected by interpreting 11 one's own good" in the broad sense, so that pursuit of one's own good becomes compatible with Christian virtue and salvation.

Could this extended sense of bonum proprium be so much editing by a redactor sympathetic to Aristotle? If it is, it seems very likely that Bonaventure's own teachings inspired the editorial change. In his commentary on the Sentences we find a distinction between the narrow sense of one's own good, which excludes the common good, and the broader sense, which is compatible with charity and the divine wil1.34 The Delorme version of this passage fits very nicely with Bonaventure's (earlier) commentary on the Sentences.

33. In Hexaem., colI. 5, n. 9: "Quinta medietas est benignitas, sive nemesis, sive amidtia, quae nihil habet malignitatis, sed homo vult bonum alii homini; et oportet, quod hie ratio dirigatur. Etsi dieat Philosophus, quod oportet amieis benefacere, inimids male£acere; Christus tamen dicit, ut omnis homo diligatur, et ut omni homini conferantur utilia, non nociva. Si ego te diligo et do tibi vel dignitatem vellibertatem, et tu male uteris ea, si dem tibi; benignus non sum, sed potius malignus; et ideo non dabo tibi, ut sim benignus. Habeo amicum, habeo inimicum; amicus male utetur aliqua praelatione vel dignitate ad damnum suum et reipublicae; si dem sibi, benignus non sum. fuimicus meus e contrario bene uteturj sibi dabo et faciam bonum meum de malo suo. Pater non blanditur fllio nec dicit verbum duIce, ne superbiat. Mundus hodie ignorat istam beneignitatem; unde totus mundus in maligno positus est, quia homo non diligit nisi bonum privatum" (Quaracchi ed., V, 355). Cf. In Hexaem., Visio I, colI. 2, n. 9: "Nemesi sive benignitate indiget homo, ut nulli velit malum, praedpue sibi ipsi, ut propter nullius utilitatem negligat bonum proprium, sit paratus ad reconciliandum, ad dimittendum iniurias. Benignitas haec seu mansuetudo in hoc est, ut quadam iustitia, aequitate vel tractabilitate velit omni homini, praecipue sibi, id quod magis expedit, sive hoc sit ad votum sive ad utilitatem" (Delorme ed., 78). For other comparisons between the two editions see F. Tinivella, "De impossibili sapientiae adeptione in philosophia pagana iuxta 'Collationes in Hexaemeron' S. Bonaventurae," Antonianum II (1936): 178-79, 285-86; Robert, 37-38, 40-56; J. Quinn, "The Moral philosophy of St. Bonaventure," Southwestern Journal of Philosophy 5 (1974): 59n5 I, 66n67.

34· Sent. ill, d. 29, a. un., q. 3, as I (Quaracchi ed., III, 644).


One might even say that the Delorme version as a whole fits bet~ tCY than the Quaracchi version with Bonaventure's commentary on the Sentences. This accord is surely one reason why some scholars have judged Delorme's edition the morc faithful account of the collationes. Of course, Bonaventure's attitude toward Aristotle could have changed dramatically toward the end of his life. The question is whether, in fact, it did. Scholars are. divided on that point, with some firmly convinced that Bonaventure became decidedly hostile to Aristotle as he grew aIel-er, and others equally convinced that he did not.

J. G. Bougerol calls attention to a peculiar change of tone even within the Quaracchi edition itself. Collatio ,VI contains the pas~ sage already discussed, where Bonaventure traces a wide range of errors to Aristotle's rejection of exemplar ideas. Bonaventure!s tone at this point is far from conciliatory. Yet at the beginning of Collatio VII, where he gives the usual summary of his previous collatio! his remarks are surprisingly mild. Bougerol suggests that Bonaventure was reproached for unfairness to Aristotle and! as a result! subsequently moderated his remarks.35 If this is indeed what occurred! the Delorme text might contain a report of the collationes edited to reflect a rather tardy commitment to moderation. Bonaventure could conceivably have approved both versions of the text~one perhaps reflecting! for the most part, what he actually said! the other reflecting! for the most part! what he wished he had said before he completed his collationes~possibly intending the two versions for different audiences. (The version intended for students at Paris might well be different from the version intended for Franciscan students and lectors in ~e provinces.) There is ample room for speculation; but unless further investigation unearths some additional evidence firmly establishing one version as the more authoritative! there must remain some doubt about both Bonaventure's words an.d his approach to interpreting Aristotle.

Both editions of the Hexaemeron say that the ancient philosophers had to rely only on natural reason, and so were in darkness on subjects requiring the illumination of faith. Yet here again Bonaventure's criticism cuts less against the ancients than against his

35. BOl.lgerol, "Dossier pour l'etude des rapports entre saint Bonaventure et Aristote," Archives d'Histoire Doctrinale et Iitteraire du Moyen Age 40 (1973): 214-15.


own contemporaries in the faculty of arts~who had! or should have had! the light of faith. Aristotle is repeatedly excused, as are other philosophers of antiquity.36 The only philosophers Bonaventure does not excuse are the Muslim commentators, especially Av

erroes. Did Bonaventure truly see Aristotles Ethics, as Gauthier insists!

as {/ a bad book ll ? It seems far more likely that Bonaventure saw it as a limited book, probably even good in its way, which had been put to bad use. When Aristotle's views conflict with Christian doctrine, one should not follow slavishly in Aristotle's errant footsteps. In such cases one should reject Aristotle!s teachings, dismiss them as irrelevant, or interpret them so as to bring the Philosopher into harmony with the faith.

This last approach is plainly the one preferred in Bonaventure's earlier works. It is also the preferred method in the Delorme version of the Hexaemeron. But if Bonaventure interprets the views expounded in the Ethics so as to support his own position! Thomas Aquinas and Albert the Great have been known to do the same. One of the main conclusions of Gauthier's own work on the three "Averroist" Ethics commentaries is that neither Thomas nor Albert saw Aristotles teaching in its historical sense. They had failed to appreciate lithe flagrant contradiction'! between Aristotelian magnanimity and Christian humility. Albert argued that the same man could be both humble and magnanimous. Thomas too insisted that humility is compatible with magnanimity, which Gauthier dismisses as I'une solution malheureuse./37 The Bonaventure of Delorme's Hexaemeron took a similar approach, reconciling Aristotle with the faith but warping Aristotles meaning in the process. All three masters either overlooked or ignored the fact that Aristotle treats humility as the virtue of small men who know themselves to be small, magnanimity as the virtue of great men who know themselves to be great. Who in the thirteenth century acknowledged that Aristotle made humility a virtue solely for the mediocre? According

36. In Hexaem., coIl. 7, nn. 3-9 (Quaraechi ed., V, 365-67]; Delonne ed., 99-103. Although Bonaventure tends to criticize and then excuse all of the ancient philosophers, the criticisms in the Quaracchi edition are directed more specifically at Aristotle than at the Platonists. This is not the case in the Delorme version of the text.

37. Gauthier, "Trois commentaires," 304-18, 335.


to Gauthier, only the radical Aristotelian masters of the arts faculty did.3s (For a sound historical reading of Aristotle, we must some~ times pass over the masters of theology and search farther afield.)

If one follows the Quaracchi edition of the Hexaemeron, then Bonaventure's approach to Aristotle's ethics was, in I273, similar to the approach of the arts masters. He gives a fairly literal reading of Aristotle and draws a sharp contrast between that and Christian doctrine, making little effort to reconcile the two. If one follows the Delorme edition, then Bonaventure's approach was quite different from the approach preferred by the arts faculty.

One more comparison must suffice to establish the considerable difference between the two redactions. Where Bonaventure is ex~ plaining the various errors that follow from the denial of exemplar ideas, the eternity of the world is given a prominent place. The De~ lorme Bonaventure says that Aristotle seems to judge the world eternal! and he cites Gregory Nazianzen and Gregory of Nyssa as his authorities. In the Quaracchi edition far greater effort is made to connect this doctrine with Aristotle. Bonaventure gives as au~ thorities for the attribution /fall of the Arab commentators" as well as 1/ all of the Greek doctors. I! He adds that Aristotle never said that the world began and even argued against Plato, who alone asserted that time had a beginning." From the eternity of the world follows the unicity of the human intellect and hence the denial of punishment and reward in the afterlife.

Having completed his catalogue of errors! the Quaracchi Bonaventure once again stresses their gravity. He concludes that some masters! seeing Aristotle's greatness on other points! have been un~ able to believe that Aristotle ever spoke anything but the truth.40

The Delorme Bonaventure is less concerned to emphasize Aristotle!s errors than to promote caution in discussing his views. Consid~ ering how many people follow Aristotle's teachings! he observes,

38. Ibid., 319-28.

39·1n Hexaem., colI. 6, n. 4 (Quaracchi ed., V, 361); Delcirme ed., 92.

40. In Hexaem., colI. 6, n. 5: '"'Hi ergo ceciderunt in enores nec fuerunt divisi a tenebris; et isti sunt pessimi enores. Nec adhuc clausi sunt clave putei abyssalis. Hae sunt tenebrae Aegypti; licet enim magna lux videretur in eis ex praecedentibus scientiis, tamen omnis exstinguitur per errores praedictos. Et alii videntes, quod tantus fuit Aristoteles in aliis et ita dixit veritatem, credere non possunt, quin in istis dixerit verum" IQuaracchi cd., V, 361).


lilt is safer to say that Aristotle did not think the world eternal, whether he thought so or not. I! Let us follow Aristotle where he was correct, Bonventure pleads, not where he was mistaken.41

The /f safer" approach to Aristotle recommended in the Delorme Hexaemeron is the very approach the Quaracchi text typically es~ chews. Where the Delorme version works to reconcile Aristotle with the faith, the Quaracchi version courts confrontation. The difference is not merely one of emphasis, The two redactions represent different attitudes toward Aristotle's authority and different ap~ proaches to interpreting his works. What conclusions can be drawn in the absence of evidence clearly favoring one edition over the other?

There is no doubt that Bonaventure does find errors in the Ethics, and, insofar as he does, his attitude toward Aristotle must be re~ garded as critical. Just how critical one takes it to be depends largely on the edition of the Hexaemeron one follows. In both editions! however! Bonaventure tends to excuse Aristotle!s mistakes; in both, his most violent criticism is reserved for the masters in the arts faculty; and in both, he begins his discussion of the acquired moral virtues by reporting the twelve means described in Aristot~ le!s Ethics. Bonaventure accepts the concept of virtue as a mean! for he bothers to argue (against the arts masters) that the poor observe the mean, At no point does he suggest that the doctrine of the virtu~ ous mean is simply inapplicable to religious poverty. Yet at the same time Bonaventure endorses magnificence as a virtue, citing Aristotle as his authority. 42 Despite his criticisms of Aristotle, the Quaracchi Bonaventure concludes this section by underscoring the harmony between the truth of the faith and the means posited by Aristotle. In both versions of the Hexaemeron he then lists the in~ tellectual virtues described in Book VI of the Ethics, and in neither does he criticize Aristotle!s account of them.43

The sections where the two editions agree would suggest that!

4L In Hexaem., Visio I, call. 3, n. 5: "Cautius ergo est dicere quod Aristoteles non senserit mundum aetemum, sive senserit sive non, quia tantus fuit quod omnes ipsum sequerentur et assererentur idem dicere; sic omnis lux detcnninata in praeccdentibus extingueretur. Sequamur autem nos eum in quibus bene dixit, non in eis in quibus fuit tenebrosus, quae nescivit vel quae celavit" IDelorme ed., 92).

42. In Hexaem., call. 5, nn. 2, 4-6 (Quaracchl cd., V, 354-55); Delormc ed., 74-78.

43· In Hexaem., call. 5, nn. rr-I3 (Quaracchi ed., V, 355-56); Delorme ed., 79-80.


however critical Bonaventure became, he did not simply reject Aristotles authority in ethics. His primary concern was the use of Aristotle being made by the arts masters, who cited the Philosopher in support of doctrines contrary to revelation. Bonaventures main objection to Aristotle's ethics-and to pagan ethics in general-was that these philosophers, being ignorant of original sin and its consequences, did not recognize the need for God's grace. They misunderstood the origin of their disease; they did not know Christ, the physician; and as a result, they did not show man the path to true happiness. In other words, the pagan philosophers did not know that human goodness has no merit without grace. Without grace the perfect happiness of the afterlife is unattainable." Lacking the benefit of revelation, it is no surprise that the ancients erred in these respects. Bonaventure accordingly directs his attack at contemporaries, who should know that the ethics of pagan philosophers has limitations.

Does this amount to a wholesale indictment of moral philosophy, or of ethics as a philosophical discipline? I think not. Bonaventure is surely more interested in moral theology than in moral philosophy, and he believes moral theology to be the higher discipline. Ethics as a philosophical study always remains subordinate to theological ethics and should not be presented as the last word on questions of morals. This is not to say, however, that Aristotle's teachings are worthless, or that one cannot approach ethics philosophically. In both editions of the Hexaemeron Bonaventure himself launches his analysis of moral justice by remarking that he is speaking as a philosopher and not as a theologian.45 His object is not to attack Aristotles ethics or even those contemporaries who discuss ethics philosophically. It is to attack those who pursue philosophy as if they were pagans. It is those who would present Aristotles ethics as an alternative to Christian ethics that have provoked his wrath. This much seems evident regardless of which version of the text one follows.

Whichever version of the text one follows, the genre should be kept in mind: not a commentary on the Sentences, not a theology

44. In Hexaem., coIl. 7, nn. 5-I2 passim (Quaracchi ed., V, 366-67); Delorme ed.,

I00--3·

45. In Hexaem., colI. 5, n. I4 (Quaracchi ed., V, 356); Delorme, 80.


textbook, not even questions mooted in a disputation, but Lenten collationes. Some scholars translate "collatio" as "lecture," others as "sermon." Either translation may serve as long as one understands the occasion. Bonaventure was no longer teaching at the time. He was lecturing, or preaching, as minister general of the Franciscans, and the Collationes in Hexaemeron were informal evening talks he gave to theology students and faculty at the Franciscan convent at Paris. Thus it is inappropriate to compare the Hexaemeron with a theology textbook, such as Aquinas's Summa theologiae, or even with a disputation or Sentences commentary, without acknowledging the differences in genre, just as it is inappropriate to compare an op-ed piece by one philosopher with a book or journal article by another.46 As far as genres go, the proper comparison would be with collationes given by Aquinas. As regards historical context, the best comparison would probably be with Aquinas's treatise against radical Aristotelian teachings on the unicity of the intellect. But even that comparison is somewhat misleading, for although one finds Aquinas expressing anger at paganizing trends in the arts faculty, his treatise was written before the condemnation of I270, not at a time when the condemnation had already taken place and clearly proved ineffective.

Walter of Bruges

We turn now.to certain disputed questions attributed to Walter of Bruges, those edited and published by Ephrem Longpre in volume 10 of Les Philosophes Belges 11928). The volume includes what appear to be three series of questions. Questions I -9 discuss the vir-

46. Although the present st.udy focuses mainly on developments at the University of Paris and so does not discuss the conflicts between John Peckham and the English Dominicans, it bears mention that the texts routinely cited to demonstrate Peckham's hostility to Aristotle are letters he wrote as archbishop of Canterbury. Such "evidence" is questionable both in tenns of genre and in terms of historical context, for even Peck· ham's greatest admirers can hardly pretend that the battle with the Dominicans he conducted as archbishop was waged wholly on intellectual grounds, without consideration of church and university politics, growing tensions between the mendicant orders, and so on. Consult Peckham's commentary on the Sentences and one finds very much the same efforts to reconcile Aristotle's teachings with the faith that one does in most

other commentaries of the period.


tues and the will. (Questions I and 2 concern the virtues and questions 4-9 the will, especially the freedom of the will, with question 3-" An voluntas possit esse subiectum virtutis"-servingas a transition.) Questions 10-22 all discuss problems related to conscience, and questions 23-34 discuss fraternal correction. Longpre attributed all three sets of questions to WaIter of Bruges, suggesting that they were all disputed during his regency at Paris, with the last set composed around 1269-a suggestion compatible with the dating of WaIter's regency to 1267-69 later provided by Glorieux.47

The 1267-69 dating of the first set of questions/ the only one relevant to the present study, was challenged by Thomas Graf in 1935. Graf argued that q. 3 of the Longpre edition is in part a reply to q. 5 of Aquinas's questions De virtutibus in communi (disputed between 1269 and 1272) and therefore could not have been composed before 1269. Graf suggested a dating of 1270 or 1271: because WaIter became provincial minister of France in 1272, his disputed questions would probably predate his election as provincial. 48 In contrast, Lottin's Psychologie et morale aux Xlr et XIIr siecles (val. I, 1942) placed WaIter's disputed questions in lithe first Franciscan reaction" against Aquinas's De veritate. Accepting Glorieux's dating of Walter'sregency to 1267-69, Lottin took it for granted that Waiter's disputed questions must have been composed during the same period. Although he acknowledged that the first set of questions contain no clear references to De veritate, he believed the connection was established by the set of questions on conscience, which he thought did rely on De veritate. 49

This brings us to Antonio San Cristobal-Sebastian's Controversias acerca dela voluntad desde I270 a I300 (Madrid, 1958). San Cristobal-Sebastian presents roughly a dozen passages from the first set of WaIter's questions, suggests that they rely on Aquinas's Prima secundae, and concludes that the questions could not have

47. Longpre's discussion of attribution and dating appears in Quaestiones disputatae du B. Gauthier de Bruges, Les Philosophes BeIges ID jLouvain, 1928), I-X. On the dating of WaIter's regency see P. GIorieux, Repertoire des maittes en theoiogie de Paris au Xllt siecie, Etudes de philosophie medievaie, vo!. 18 (Paris, 1934), 84-85.

48. Graf, De subiecto virtutwn cardinalium, vol. I, pt. 2 of Graf, De subiecto psychico granae et virtutum secundum doctrinam scholasticorum usque ad medium saeculumXIV(Rome, 1935), 130.

49. Psychologie et morale, va!. I, 243n3.

ARISTOTLE AMONG THE CHRISTIANS 6r

composed before 1270. Next he argues that q. 6 relies on the anonymous Ethics commentary contained in Vat. lat. 832, which he dates to around 1274, but that the set of questions is undoubtedly anterior to both the 1277 condemnation and Henry of Ghent's Quodlibet I (Christmas 1276). San Cristobal-Sebastian's grand conclusion is that these questions were composed between 1274 or 1275 and Christmas of 1276, which means that WaIter's status as author of the questions is highly doubtful. Doubts about attribution, he says, are reinforced by the fact that the only manuscript containing these questions, Florence, Laurenz. plut. XVII sin. cod. 7, gives no indication of the author. 50

I think it plausible, as Graf had already suggested, that this set of questions on virtues and the will reflects familiarity with works composed during Aquinas's second regency at Paris (January 1269-April 1272). Although many of the passages that San Cristobal-Sebastian connects with the Prima secundae have parallels in earlier works of Aquinas-his Sentences commentary (12.52-56), De veritate (1256-59), and/or the Pars prima (I266-68)-one might argue that parallels with De virtutibus in communi, disputed sometime in Aquinas's second regency, or with the Prima secundae, begun in 1268 and completed before the end of 1270, are sometimes closer. One might accordingly claim that the disputed questions attributed to Waiter were composed after 1269 or even after 1270. On the other h~nd, San Cristobal-Sebastian offers no convincing evidence for his claim that these questions reflect familiarity with the Ethics commentary in Vat. lat. 832. Even if he did present such evidence, it could hardly be used to establish a dating posterior to 1274, for the simple reason that the date of Vat. lat. 832 is itself largely conjectural. (Roland Hissette argues that the manuscript probably postdates the 1277 condemnation but might well rely on one or more commentaries that preceded and helped to provoke the condem

nation.) We are left, then, with nothing more than an argument for dating

the questions attributed to WaIter after 1269 or I270, and that dating does not of necessity cast doubt on WaIter's authorship. Although a master could participate in quodlibetal disputations only

50. Controversias acerca de la voluntad desde 1270 a I300 (Madrid, 1958), 33-46,

esp. 37.


during his regency, he could continue to participate in ordinary disputations after his regency ended. Contrary to what scholars have often assumed, the date of ordinary disputed questions need not correspond with the period of a master's regency. Because the questions we have are ordinary disputed questions, it accordingly remains possible that the questions were disputed by WaIter of Bruges after his regency ended but before he became provincial of France.5l

For our purposes, however, it is sufficient that these questions are the work of a Franciscan and that they predate the 1277 condemnation, which even San Cristobal-Sebastian does not dispute. In the absence of evidence to the contrary, we shall take the author to be Waiter of Bruges.

We are considering these questions after Bonaventure's Collationes in Hexaemeron because they are the work of a younger master, a so-called IIBonaventurean,1I and it is Bonaventure's disciples who are most widely regarded as hostile to Aristotle. Indeed, WaIter's questions include one of the best-known remarks made by any Franciscan on the subject of Aristotle's authority. Efrem Bettoni calls it a "battle cryl!: IIAugustine and Anselm should be believed

. more than the Phflosopher.!l52

Taken as it stands, WaIter's remark does sound like a battle cryproof positive of 11 Augustinianll or IINeo-Augustinian ll hostility to Aristotle. One gets a rather different impression when the first part of the sentence is included and the remark restored to its original context:

sr. On the dating of Aquinas's works see J. WeisheipI, Friar Thomas d'Aquino: His life, Thought, and Work, 2d ed. (Washington, D.e., r983), 35r-403. Problems of dating Vat.lat. 832 and other "Averroist" Ethics commentaries are discussed in R. Hissette, "La date de quelques commentaires a l'Ethique," Bulletin de philosophie medievale 18 (r976): 79-83. On the dating of ordinary disputed questions see AG. Little and F.

Pelster, Oxford Theology and Theologians, c. I282-I302 (Oxford, r934), 233, and B. Bazan, "Les questions disputees, principalement dans les facultes de theologie," in Bazan et al., Les questions disputees et les questions quodlibetique dans les facultes de theologie, de droit et demedecine (Turnhout, 1985), 50-P, r36.

p. Bettoni, "The Originality of the Scotistic Synthesis," in John Duns Scotus, I26S-I96S, ed. J. Ryan and B. Bonansea (Washington, D.e., r965), 31. Bettoni does not indicate from which work the remark is taken. Gilson (History 0/ Christian philosophy, 340) reports that the remark comes from Waiter's disputed questions but does not indicate which question.


... To say that a virtue is not known by its species and likeness is to contradict Augustine, the Philosopher, and Anselm. Yet if someone were to say the Philosopher believed the contrarywhich will, however, later turn out to be false-I say that Augustine and Anselm should be believed more than the Philosopher. 53

In other words, where Aristotle's teachings are in clear and irreconcilable conflict with those of Christian authorities, Aristotle's teachings should not be followed. But does Waiter say there is such a conflict on this issue? Not at all: he claims that Augustine, Anselm, and Aristotle agree. Nevertheless, WaIter does take it upon himself to "rankl! the authorities. He then offers a comparison between the saints, who stood on a mountain and saw clearly, and the philosophers} who stood in a dark valley where their vision was obscured. Walter concludes that the judgment of a saint deserves more adherence than the judgment of a philosopher." If he is not attacking pagan philosophy in general and Aristotle in particular, what is the point of this excursus?

To understand the point we must consider the context. The problem WaIter is discussing is how a virtue can be known by the one possessing it. In his reply he reports one opinion on the question, namely, that a virtue is known by its essence. Against this is the claim that the soul as a whole does not know by means of essenceSj it knows only according to the intellect, and the intellect has direct knowledge only of what pertains to itself. IIFor this reason,l! WaIter observes, 1I0 thers say that the intellect knows habits existing in itself, such as faith and their intellectual virtues, by their essences and not by a likeness, though it knows by a likeness habits of the will, the will, and the essence of the souL "ss

Although WaIter argues briefly against this position, a more elab-

53. WaIter of Bruges, Quaestiones disputatae, q. I: J/ • •• Dicere quod virtus non cognoscitur per suam speciem vel similitudinem, hoc est contradicere Augustino, Philosopho, et Anselmo. Si tamen aliquis dicat Philosophum sentire contrarium, quod tamen postea patebit esse falsum, dieo quod plus credendum est Augustino et Anselmo quam Philosopho" (Les Philosophes BeIges X, 13).

54. Quaest. msp., q. I (PB X, 13-14). 55. Ibid.: "Ideo alii dicunt quod intellectus habitus in se existentes, ut fidem et intel

lectuales virtutes, cognoscit per essentias ipsorum, non per similitudinem; habitus autem voluntatis et voluntatem et animae essentiam per similitudinem" (PB X, 9).


orate reply is given later. He asks whether a virtue is known by its likeness, cites Aristotle and Boethius for the affirmative, then indicates his assent to a general proposition: the soul cannot understand a virtue, itself, or anything else without some likeness. After citing additional passages from Anselm and Augustine, he declares that Aristotle, Anselm, and Augustine all agree on this issue. Then, apparently anticipating an objection based on Aristotle's works, he expatiates on the superior authority of the saints. The conclusion to this section removes any doubt that WaIter has been arguing against those giving one answer for the intellectual virtues and another for the affective virtues. He quotes a passage from Augustine which suggests that even scientia, a habit of the intellect, is known by its likeness. Waiter hastens to add that Augustine is not referring to scientia as an act; he is clearly discussing scientia as a habit.56

In brief, WaIter's aim in this section is to criticize a view held by some contemporary. For his own view he claims the authority of both Aristotle and the san cd. What has been interpreted as the battle cry of an arch-Augustinian is simply a fall-back position. Waiter wants Aristotle's support and may even believe that he has it, but as he anticipates objections based on Aristotle's writings, he declares in advance that such criticism will carry no weight with him. Aristotle's authority cannot stand against the combined force of Augustine's and Anselm's. Note, though, that Waiter never actually cedes Aristotle's authority to the opposition: he expressly claims it for his own position. The concession he makes is both general and conditional: if Aristotle's teachings on some issue conflict with Augustine's and Anselm's, then Aristotle's teachings should not be believed. WaIter himself takes pains to avoid such conflicts. He pays close attention to Aristotle's teachings, frequently citing them and consistently working to reconcile them with the teachings of Augustine and other Christian authorities. This close attention to Aristotle is reflected in the number of citations. In the disputed questions concerning virtues and the will, WaIter cites Aristotle more often than Augustine and Anselm combined: I I 3 times

56. Ibid. (PB x, 141. Could the position WaIter criticizes be a garbled version of the Thomistic view? See Aquinas, Scriptwn super Sententiis, Ill, d. 33, q. I, a. 2 (Moos ed., Ill, 700-704); QUaestiones disputatae de veritate, q. IQ, a. 9 (Leonine ed., XXIf-2,

326-33).


against 53 and 29, respectively. Nor is Aristotle cited only for opinions rejected, with Anselm's and Augustine's authority pitted against the Philosopher's. Waiter's usual procedure is to cite Aristotle on both sides of the question as well as in his own reply.

Noting that Waiter pays very little attention to the radical Aristotelians, Ignatius Brady suggests that he may have judged the arts masters sufficiently answered by Wil-liam of Baglione, an earlier Franciscan regent. San Cristobal-Sebastian points out several passages in these questions where positions held by Aquinas are criticized. He also argues that Franciscans did not place their defense of the will's freedom under the patronage of St. Augustine. Ernst Stadter maintains that WaIter's discussions of freedom represent an attempt to reconcile Aristotle's teachings with the emerging voluntarism of the Franciscan school. 57

Waiter's teachings on the will's freedom will be considered in chapter 3. Here I shall only suggest that the conclusions of Stadter and San Cristobal-Sebastian are substantially correct. These questions do seem to be critical of Aquinas; they reveal no animu~ against Aristotle; and the author makes no special appeal to Augustine's authority in arguing for the freedom of the will. He consistently strives to reconcile Aristotle's teachings with Augustine's. Brady's observation that little is aimed specifically at radical Aristotelians seems accurate as well. Whether William of Baglione's attacks on the artists are relevant in this context is more doubtful. If these questions were disputed around 1270-72 instead of 1267-68, they would date from the period immediately following Tempier's first condemnation. At that time it might not have been clear that Tempier's action would have little effect. So there may have seemed little need for further criticism of the arts masters.

What is certain is what the text itself reveals: Waiter is well acquainted with the Ethics; he is far more concerned to reconcile Aristotle's teachings with the teachings of Augustine and other Christian authorities than to force a choice between them; he stresses the superiority of Christian authorities only as a last resort, when his efforts at reconciliation fall short; and he argues more often against

57. Brady, "Background," 6-7; San Cristobal-Sebastian, 34-36, 40-47, 247-69; Stadter, Psychologie und Metaphysik deI menschlichen Freiheit: Die ideengeschicht· liche Entwicklung zwischen Bonaventura und Duns ScoWs (Munich, 1971), 335-38.


doctrines of Aquinas than against doctrines associated with radical Aristotelians.

In the one passage where WaIter alludes to a radical Aristotelian doctrine} he makes it clear that this error is contrary to Aristotle. "Certain persons say that the will is necessitated/If he reports} and proceeds to list four unacceptable consequences of that position. The first is that the will would not be fre~ if it acted from necessitYI which Waiter declares "not only against the saints and the peripatetic philosophers but also against the Stoics ... ,,,58 When he elaborates on this point, he appeals to Aristotle as well as the saints} citing Aristotle's account of moral weakness and other texts to show that Aristotle did not believe reason's judgment necessitates the will. Aristotle i~ consistently cited together with Anselrii, Bemard of Clairvaux, and other Christian authorities in defense ofilie will's freedom.

As WaIt~r tends to cite Aristotle with the sancti, so he tends to cite Aristotle against positions held by Aquinas. An example can be found in q. 3, where WaIter discusses whether all moral virtues be~ long to the will. He begins his reply by reporting Thomas's position: that the will needs virtues only to perform acts that exceed the power proportioned to it. To will the divine good is one such actj to give one's neighbor his due is another; and so the will needs charity and justice, respectively. It does not need temperance and courage, since virtues of the sense appetite suffice to order the passions. Wal ~ ter's first two arguments against this position are based on the Eth~ ics. Subsequent arguments are drawn from John Damascene, Augustine, Anselm, and Bemard, but also from Aristotle's Politics, De anima, and Rhetoric.59

We find a similar appeal to Aristotle in q. 5, where WaIter argues that command is properly an act of the will-a more voluntarist po-

58. Quaest. disp., q. 4: "Dkunt quidam quod voluntas nece~sitatur, pro se allegantes aliquas rationes de praedictis, ex qua positione videntur sequi quatuor inconve

nientia. Quorum primum est quod vO,luntas non est libera, quia, secundum Bemardum,

De gratia et libero aIbitrio: 'Ubi est necess,itas, non est ibi libertas,' quod est non solum contra Sanctos et philosophos peripateticos, sed etiam contra Stokos ... " (PB X, 38-39).

59· Ibid., q. 3 (PB X, 27-30): cf. Aquinas, De virtutibus in communi, q. un., a. (Parmaed., VIII, 555).


sition than Aquinas!s, which makes command essentially an act of reason, though one presupposing an act of the will. In defense of his own view WaIter cites Bemard, John Damascene, Richard of St. Victor, Eustratius, and several works by Aristotle: the Ethics, the Physics! the Metaphysics, and the Politics. Having set forth his own position, Walter tries to explain away Aristotelian texts that might be cited for the Thomistic position. In only one place does he come close to admitting that the Thomistic position might be the same as Aristotle's.

The stumbling block is Book VI of the Ethics, where Aristotle says that prudence, a virtue of the intellect, "issues commands." Grosseteste translated this remark as "Prudentia quidem enim praeceptiva est," Had "imperativa" been chosen instead of "praeceptiva," the line would certainly suggest that command (imperium) is an act of intellect. As it is, only "praeceptiva" appears in Aristotle, and WaIter takes advantage of the room this leaves for interpretation. He distinguishes between two senses of "praecipere": one the act of command, which pertains to the will, the other a prescriptive disclosure, which pertains to the intellect.

Does this suffice to explain the analysis of prudence in Book VI of the Ethics? Even Waiter apparently had doubts. After explaining the two senses of "praecipere," he confesses that ancient philosophers in general tend to make the intellect the commander of the soul, and they even have reasonable grounds for this view. The view of Christians, however, is better:

... Philosophers more often attribute [the act of] command to the intellectual part of the soul than to the appetitive part and the will: first because, being very anxious for knowledge, they used to apply themselves more to the perfection of reason than to the perfection of the will, whence Matthew I2:34: "Out of the abundance of their heart the mouth spokell

; second, because reason considers the act of commanding to follow the act of disclosing, so that it is more directly related to action, and as the will is a sort of universal mover! one sometimes attributes something more to the more direct and specific cause than to the general one; third, because the will ought to command nothing without the delibera~ tion of reason, so that if it acts against reason, it precipitates rather than commands. However, our saints devote themselves more to the perfection of the will, through which they can obtain eternal


life. Because they see that the will rules the other powers of the soul, they attribute command to it better and more properly than to reason. 60

On the whole, Waiter of Bruges adopts that 11 safer" approach to Aristotle recommended in the Delorme edition of the Hexaemeron. What we now consider a historical reading of his works would put Aristotle into frequent conflict with AUgUstine and other Christian authorities, effectively forcing a choice between the Philosopher and the sancti; but Waiter typically shuns the tactics of confrontation. Instead he tries to reconcile apparent conflicts between authorities and, wherever possible, claims Aristotle's support for his own positions. Only on those rare occasions when his adversaries plainly have a far stronger claim to Aristotle's authority than he himself does Waiter resort to contrasting pagan and Christian thinkers and declaring the Christians superior.

The Condemnation of 1277

Whatever Bonaventure's contribution may have been to the cam~ paign against paganizing trends among the artists, neither he nor Thomas lived to see the culmination. Both died in 1274, and it was three years later, in 1277, that the radical Aristotelians had their

60. Quaest, disp., q. 5: "Ad secundum dic quod aliquid dicitur'praecipere dupliciter, scilicet vel ut agens vel ut finem desideratum ostendcns. Prima modo praecipit vel im

perat voluntas, secundo modo intelleetus, ratio, prudentia et Oline intellectivum in eo quod huiusmodi; sed hoc non est proprie praecipere, quia praecipere vel imperare est per se movere, intellectus non movet de se quia intellectus, sed quia ostendit bonum desideratum. Sic et servus posset dupliciter praecipere domino et visus appetitui et omnis inferior superiori. Philosophi tamen 'frequentius attribuunt imperare intellectivo quam appetitivo et voluntati, turn quia multum solliciti de seientia studebant ad perfeetionem rationis magis quam voluntatis, unde et ex abundantia coIdis os eorum locutum est, Matth. XII 34, tum quia ratio aetum imperandi consulit exequi denuntiando et ita immediatius se habet ad actionem, et voluntas est quasi motor untversalis, magis autem attribuitur aliquid causae immediatiori et speeiali quam generali nonnunquam, tum quia voluntas nihil debet imperare sine consilio rationis, quod si facit contra rationem, potius praecipitat quam imperat. Saneti vero nostri plus vacant perfectioni voluntatis, per quam possunt adipisci vitam aeternam, quam voluntatem, qui vident dominari aliis viribus, dant ei imperium melius et magis proprie quam rationi" (PB X, 62). In this and many other passages, the Longpre edition does indeed read "dic/' not "dieo" or "dicendum."


come-uppance. On March 7, 1277, Etienne Tempier, the bishop of Paris, condemned 219 propositions as contrary to the faith. 61 No names or written works were attached to the propositions, and in a few cases it is uncertain who, if anyone, defended them in the form given. Most of the propositions, however, were evidently aimed at radical Aristotelian teachings.

One might say that Tempier set out to condemn Aristotelianism, but only if radical Aristotelianism is the particular form of Aristotelianism at issue. To say that Aristotelianism simpliciter was condemned is misleading. It is rather that particular interpretations of Aristotle's teachings were condemned. Doubtless many of these were sound historical interpretations of Aristotle, but since Aristotle remained the foremost philosophical authority after 1277, it seems evident that the condemnation was not seen as aimed at his teachings. The bishop himself cited doctrines current in the Paris arts faculty as the occasion for his action, and none of the old prohibitions against teaching Aristotle were renewed.

Perhaps the best evidence that the condemnation applied only to certain interpretations of Aristotle is found in Henry of Ghent's first quodlibet. Henry was a secular master of theology, an ardent voluntarist, and one of the dominant figures at the University of Paris in the late thirteenth century. Equally important, he was one of the assembly of theologians that approved the list of condemned articles, and he might even have served on the commission that drafted it. 62 Several scholars have noted the affinities between Henry's Quodlibet I of Christmas 1276 and some of the propositions concerning the will condemned in March 1277. Scholars have also noted that this quodlibet contains an extended critique of Thomas's teachings on the will.63 ~

6r. The condemnation is analyzed in detail in R. Hissette, Enquete sur les 2r9 articles condarnnes cl Paris le 7 mars I277 (Louvain-Paris, 1977); "Etienne Tempier et ses condemnations," Recherches de Tbeologie ancienne et medievaie 47 (1980): 231-70; "Albert le Grand et Thomas d'Aquin dans la censure parisienne du 7 mars 1277," Miscellanea Mediaevalia r5 (1982): 226-46.

62. Evidence for Henry's involvement in the condemnation is found in his Quodlibet IT, q. 9 (Macken et al., eds., VI, 67).

63. See, for example, R. Macken, "La volonte humaine, faculte plus elevee que l'intelligence selon Henri de Gand/' RecheIches de Theologie anciemle et medievale 42

(r975): 33-35, 45-47; Hissette, Enquete, 242-46.


From his involvement in the condemnation and his opposition to Aquinas, one might expect Henry to be sharply critical of Aristotle's teachings. Henry does indeed pay close attention to the passages in Aristotle bearing, at least to the thirteenth-century mind, on the freedom of the will. He is particularly interested in the account of moral weakness (akrasia, incontinentiaj presented in Book VII of the Ethics. Indeed, Henry analyzes it at such length and in such detail that if his discussion were excerpted, it could easily be mistaken for part of a scholastic commentary on the Ethics.

The question Henry addresses was to become one of the most controversial issues of the period: Utrum deordinatio voluntatis causetur a deordinatione rationis vel e converso---"Whether the disorder of the will is caused by the disorder of reason or vice versa. 11

He argues that every disorder of reason is caused by a disorder of the will} citing various passages from Ethics II and III to establish that Aristotle agrees with him. Ethics VII poses problems} but} instead of ignoring them, Henry launches a full-scale inquiry into flthe mind and meaning of the PhilosopherJl as regards moral weakness. After summarizing Aristotle's account} he reports that all masters agree on the basic doctrinei the problem is that Aristotle never indicates clearly whether concupiscence obscures reason directly, or whether it obscures reason through the will's concord with the sense appetite. Controversy arises solely on that point, and Henry admits that both sides appear to have Aristotle's support. Nevertheless, he insists that his own position is not only correct but also the one actually held by the Philosopher,'4

Since Henry repeatedly cites Aristotle in arguing for his own position-drawing on the Metaphysics and De anima as well as on the

64. Quodl. I, q. 17: " ... Hic oportet circa hancmateriam videre mentem et intentionem Philosophi de operibus continentis et incontinentis, maxime incontinentis, quia in eo consistit tota difficultas intenti .... Et concordant omnes in his quod sit mens et sententia Philosophi, sed quia non aperte distinguit, an concupiscentia sensualis im

me~iate obnubilet rationem vel mediante appetitu voluntatis concordante cum appetitu sensus, in hoc solo est controversia, ut dictum est. Et videntur ambo pro se habere Philosophum, quia aliqua dicta eius videntur expressius esse pro una opinione, aliqua vero pro alia, ut visum est et iam videbitur amplius_ Est autem adhuc amplius aliquid intelligendum ad veritatis, et intellectus Philosophi, maiorem declarationem: quod Philosophus non tarn damnat in vitio et peccato actum exterioris quam interioris consensus in delectationem ... " (Macken et al., eds., V, 130, 1381.


Ethics-further evidence for Aristotle's support is not absolutely necessary. He provides it anyway, in the form of detailed exegesis of Ethics VII, complete with cross-references to the Greek commentaries translated by Grosseteste. At the end of the question Henry explains exactly how others have gone astray in interpreting Aristotle and how, on their reading, it is impossible to make sense of several passages in the Ethics.

There is no reason to think that all of this is other than what it seems: a serious attempt to establish that Aristotle had a sound opinion concerning the relations between will and intellect. In his first quodlibet Henry attacked interpretations of Aristotle given by radical Aristotelians and by Aquinas. Henry did not attack Aristotle himself, nor did he blame Aristotle for leading others into error. On the contrary, he did his utmost to dissociate Aristotle from what he took to be erroneous doctrines defended by his own contemporaries.

Error concerningHappiness and the Virtues

Of the twenty broad subject headings used by Mandonnet in ordering the condemned articles, only three are of direct relevance to ethics.65 One set of errors concerns the Christian virtues, especially those denigrated by the radical Aristotelians i another concerns miscellaneous questions of ethics, particularly regarding happiness; and a third concerns the human will, particularly the relations between will and intellect. We shall consider a few examples from each group in order to get some idea of the theological background for post-I277 ethics.

The conflict between Christian doctrine and Aristotle's Ethics is probably most obvious in the articles concerning the virtues. A few are as follows:

65. The text of the condemnation, given in Chart. Univ. Par., I, 543-61, hasno obvious scheme of organization. To make the document easier to analyze, Mandonnet grouped the articles under subject headings and changed the numbering to reflect his own ordering. The reordered list is published in Mandonnet, Siger de Brabant et l' averroisme latin auXIIr siecie, 2d ed., pt . .2 (Louvain, 1911), 175-91. In the text I cite the article numbers assigned by Mandonnet. After the article, in parentheses, I give its number in CUP, then the page number in Mandonnet. The articles relevant to ethics

are 150-69,170-79, and 20o-lI2 (Mandonnet, 187-88, 190).


208. That continence is not essentially a virtue (168; 190). 209. That chastity is not a greater good than complete abstinence

(r8r; r90). 21 I. That humility-meaning the sort of man who does not make

a show of what he has, but depreciates and humbles himself-is not a virtue. This is erroneous if what is meant is that neither is it a virtue nor is the act virtuous (171; 190).

212. That a man poor in possessions cannot act morally well (170; r90 ).

The first of these articles recalls Aristotle's contention that continence is not a virtue but a mixture of virtue and vice (EN I128b33-34). The continent man is not truly virtuous because he must struggle to conquer his disordered desires; only the temperate man, who has no such desires, is truly virtuous. This view conflicted with the teachings of Augustine, who saw evil desires as an unavoidable consequence of original sin. In Augustine's later writings even the saints, before their deaths, are described as having disordered desires. Internal conflict thus emerged as the human condition, and the Aristotelian ideal of temperance became unattainable in this life.

Gauthier reports that some of the so-called Averroist Ethics commentaries presented the Aristotelian position on continence without scruple or explanation. Giocarinis claims that the Ethics commentary preserved in Erlangen Univ. 213, another radical Aristotelian work, denies that continence is a virtue. Aquinas taught that, in Aristotle's sense of the term, continence was not a virtue but rather a mixture of virtue and vice, but that in St. Paul's usage, where If continence" signifies complete abstinence froIll sexual pleasures, continence is a virtue. 66 It is uncertain which particular conception of continence is at stake in the condemned article. Was the object only to affirm that chastity is a virtue, or that the habit of resisting one's evil desires is a virtue? Article 209 uses "chastity" for complete abstinence from sexual pleasures, thus affirming that complete abstinence from sex is no better than complete abstinence from food. If the wording of the articles were consistent, we might

66. Gauthier, "Trois commentaires," 300j Giocarinis, "An Unpublished Commentary," 316. Cf. STlI-Ilae, q. r55, aa. 1,4·


conclude that [/continence" in article 208 is not the same as "chastity" in article 209, that is, that "continence" is used in Aristotle's sense and not in St. Paul's. Alas, the r277 syllabus is hardly a model of precision. The meaning of article 208 thus remains uncertain.

If tbe habit of resisting one's evil desires was the continence at issue, there is still some question as to the article's applicability to the radical Aristotelian Etbics commentaries. (One could, for example, maintain that continence differs from temperance in degree but deny that the two habits differ in essence.) An even greater problem is the dating of these works, that is, the anonymous Ethics commentaries preserved in Erlangen Univ. 213, Paris Nat lat. 16089, Er/urt Ampion. F. 13, and Vat.lat. 832,2172, and 2173. We do not know whether some or all of them predate the 1277 condemnation and accordingly helped to provoke it, or whether they were written after 1277 and so indicate the persistence of radical Aristotelian readings of the Ethics. Hissette accepts Gauthier's suggestion that the commentaries derive from a source anterior to 1277, but he believes that the commentaries themselves were produced after 1277· He accordingly excludes them as possible sources of the condemned articles.67 Hissette does not claim that none of the commentaries could possibly be anterior to 1277. He does establish, however, that the earlier dating raises far more difficulties than the later one. We shall therefore accept the later dating as a working assumption, while allowing the possibility of some earlier exemplar.

It has often been suggested that the list of articles was drafted so hastily that it sometimes failed to touch those the bishop intended. Article 21 I appears to be an example of such haste. Siger had not taught that humility was not a virtue: he had presented it as the virtue of the mediocre and hence as a less perfect virtue than magnanimity. If the condemned article is read according to the letter, Siger escaped unscathed. Still, the kind of humility that Siger affirms to be an imperfect virtue is not the kind the framers of 1277 described. As regards the habit or act described in article 2II, Siger says that "humility" can be applied to it only in an altered and extended sense. He then contrasts the self-deprecating kind of humility with humility in the strict sense, and it is only the latter he affirms to

67. Hissette, "La date," 79-83; Gauthier, "Trois commentaires," 275, 295·


be an imperfect virtue. 68 Since Siger does not rely on a distinction between habit and act in this context, the inclusion of that distinction in the article seems to be evidence of bad draftsmanship, (One wonders whether some of the condemned articles were taken from students' notes on their masters' lectures. Quite often the wording is similar, but the point is somewhere between garbled and missed.)

The article concerning poverty again shows the tension between the Christian tradition and a historical reading of the Ethics. Aristotle himself regards poverty as a condition to be avoided. For him liberality and magnificence are virtues, and since both govern especially the giving of money, they would seem to require some money to give. Aristotle accordingly claims that happiness requires external goods: one cannot do noble acts without the proper resources (EN 1099a32, I I I9b22ff.). This is all well and good when human virtue-or better, human excellence-depends partly on funding warship repairs and tragic choruses, but it raises problems when wealth becomes an impediment to entering heaven. As onc of the three vows of a mendicant, poverty was of particular concern to the friars

l

and most especially to the Franciscans. Article 212 protected them from 11 Aristotelian" criticism, though at no real cost to Aristotle. The condemnation does not assert that liberality and magnificence are not virtues, or that religious poverty is a virtue. While the tension between Aristotle and the faith was evident, their reconciliation remained possible.

The same holds for the more general topic of happiness. On the one hand, the Ethics clearly locates happiness in this life and makes man the cause of it; on the other, Aristotle does enough reporting of popular opinion to allow room for Christianizing interpretations of his views. If Aristotle denies that a man can be happy only after death, he nevertheless refers to the dead as being happy (EN IIooaIo-I41 IIOIb3-9J. He might therefore be taken as countenancing a happiness in the afterlife. Better yet, Aristotle admits the possibility that happiness is a gift of the gods (EN 1099brr-I4). Perhaps he does not pursue the issue because it had more to do with metaphysics than ethics, but he does at least raise the possibility.

These examples of thirteenth-century exegesis of the Ethics may be taken as evidence for the common view-that scholastic philos-

68. Siger de Brabant, Quaestiones morales, q. I fBazan ed., 98).


"Christianized" or "baptized" Aristotle. Although there is in that assessment, it tends to make the "Christianizing" of

Aristotle more completely conscious and deliberate than it actually was. Remember that most scholastics read Aristotle only in Latin translation, and, the translations assisted considerably in the task of Christianizing Aristotle. Even when a translator followed the Greek as best he could, the Latin translation often lent support to a more Christian reading of the text. The problem of happiness is one such case. Aristotle says: "If there is any gift of the gods [theon dorema 1 to men, it is reasonable that happiness should be god-given [theosdoton), and most surely god-given of all human things inasmuch as it is the best." Grosseteste dutifully rendered 11 gift of the gods" as "deorum donum": gift of the gods. Yet in translating the adjective 11 god-given," which can mean given either by one or by many gods, he opted for the singular "Dei datum": given by a god, the god, or, in a Christian1s eyes, simply by God. We accordingly find in Aquinas's commentary on the Ethics a strikingly anachronistic reading that is nonetheless plausible in light of the translation he used: "While other things may be given to men by the gods-that is, by the separate substances the ancients used to call gods-it is reasonable that happiness be a gift of the supreme God, since it is the highest of human goods." 69 The Latin Aristotle was undoubtedly easier to "baptize" than the Greek Aristotle.

On the whole, the 1277 articles concerning happiness are formulated in such a way that reconciliation with the Ethics is not difficult. Two examples:

'72. That happiness is had in this life and not in another ('76; 188).

173. That happiness cannot be caused directly by God (22; 188).

The obvious way around the first was to claim, as Aquinas did, that happiness is had In this life and in another. The second article is

69. Aquinas, Sententia libri Ethicorum, I, c. 14: II[Aristoteles] dicit ergo primo quod si aHquid aliud ex dono deorum, id est substantiarum separatarum quas antiqui deos vocabant, datur hominibus, rationabile est quod felicitas sit donum Dei supremi, quia ipsa est optimum inter bona humana" (Leonine ed., XLVII-I, 50). Although we do not have a copy of the translation Thomas used, he was apparently working with a version of Grosseteste's that was revised in the second half of the thirteenth century. See Gau

thier's preface, ibid., 232 *-34 *.


more problematic, though one could argue that God and man are direct co-causes of human happiness, or that God can directly cause human happiness but does not will to do so, preferring to act always as the indirect cause, cooperating with human agency. With sufficient waffling and qualification, a compromise could be reached that neither utterly discarded Aristotle nor deviated from orthodoxy. Nevertheless, some of the radical Aristotelians insisted that Aristotle's views were simply opposed to Christian doctrine: Aristotle says that God cannot give happiness directly; yet according to the faith and the truth, God can directly produce happiness through divine revelation-a possibility never considered by Aristotle. 7o

This is the position of the anonymous Vatican commentary on t'he Ethics, and if it is any indication of doctrines circulated before the condemnation, the inclusion of article 173 is scarcely surprising. The Ifphilosophical" method of presenting Aristotle's teachings as contrary to the faith, with no attempt to reconcile the contradic~ tion, caused grave concern among theologians. That the arts mas~ ters typically affirmed the truth of the faith did little to alleviate the worries.

Articles concerning the Will

Of all the articles condemned in I277, those related to the will probably had the greatest significance for the history of ethics. More than fifteen articles address the topic, including the following:

157· That when two goods are proposed, the stronger one moves more strongly.-This is an error unless it is understood from the standpOint of the good that moves (208; 1871.

158. That in all his actions man follows appetite, and always the greater appetite.-This is an error if it is understood as the greater in moving power (164; 1871.

70. Vat.lat. 2I72, £. ura [= Vat.lat. 832, f. 8vb; Vat.lat. 2I73, £. 9vb): "Hoc tamen secundum Philosophum non est immediate, sed mediate, quia secundum philosophum a Deo nihil novum potest produci immediate, ut patet 80 Physicorum et 20 De generatione. Et hoc patet ex intentione Avicennae et A verrois. Sed felicitas est aliquod bonum de novo, ideo etc .... Sed secundum fidem et veritatem aliquibus sanctis hominibus cognitio primae causae potest eSse missa immediate per revelationem divinam. Sed de tali felicitate, Philosophus non loquitur," quoted in Gauthier, "Trois commentaires," 273-74n2.

1


159. That when impediments are removed, appetite is necessarily moved by the object of desire.-This is an error as regards the intel~ lectual appetite (134; r 871.

161. That the will in itself is undetermined to opposites, like mat~ teri it is determined, however, by the object of desire, just as matter is determined by an agent (135; 1871.

162. That the knowledge of contraries is the sole cause why the rational soul is capable of opposites, and that a power that is abso~ lutely one is not capable of opposites except by accident and by rea~ son of something else (173; 1871.

163. That the will necessarily pursues what is firmly believed by reason and that it cannot abstain from that which reason dictates. This necessitation, however! is not compulsion but the nature of the will (163; 1871.

164. That man!s will is necessitated by his cognition, like the appetite of a beast (159; 1881.

165. That after a conclusion has been made about something to be done! the will does not remain free; and that punishments are provided by the law only for the rebuke of ignorance and in order that the rebuke be a source of knowledge for others (158; 1881.

While the wording of these articles is sometimes puzzling, as articles from the 1277 syllabus are often puzzling, the aim is plainly to safeguard the freedom of the will. Determination of the will by external powers is seen as a threat to moral responsibility, and the agent's own intellect (lfreason") figures among those external powers. The articles firmly reject the thesis that all wrongdoing results from ignorance! that anyone who knew better would perforce do better! or even will to do better. But exactly what view is the syllabus promoting?

Suppose that the will does remain free after a conclusion has been reached by deliberation; suppose that the will need not pursue what reason dictates. My firm judgment that I should report all my taxable income on my 1040 is therefore no guarantee that I will do so. Does this mean that I can act against my own practical judgment about what I should do here and now, with pen in hand and financial records covering my desk? Or does it mean only that I can act against my own moral principles? Can I firmly hold a moral principle that prohibits lying, understand how it applies to my present


situation, and yet fail to act on it? If I can, have I only the option of inaction (e.g., failing to file a return), or can I act contrary to my own judgment (e.g., by deliberately omitting a taxable fellowship award)? The distinction between actions and omissions is a knotty philosophical problem in itself. But even if we adopt a rough, intu~ itive distinction, serious questions remain. Can I be not merely weak but perverse? Can I do what I myself judge to be bad with full consciousness that my action is bad?

Two of the condemned articles seem to suggest that this is possible, and yet the wording/ once again, leaves room for doubt:

166. That if reason is right, the will is also right.-This is erroneous because it is contrary to Augustine's gloss on that Psalm [119:20]: ~/My soul is consumed with desire/ etc., and because according to this grace would not be necessary, but only knowledge, which is the error of Pelagius (130; 188).

169. That while passion remains and particular knowledge is actually present, the will cannot act against it (129; 188).71

What should we make of article 166? That one cannot teach flIf reason is right, the will is also right"? Or that one cannot teach this only if one combines the psychological thesis with the theological thesis that grace is unnecessary to make the will right? Would someone who affirmed the psychological thesis but denied the theological thesis be charged with defending the condemned article? Article 169 raises problems of interpretation as well. One possible paraphrase: That when passion leads reason to judge a bad action good, or at least acceptable, the will cannot act against reason. Another possible paraphrase: That when passion conflicts with the judgment that a particular act is bad, the will cannot act against passion. Because the "it" might refer either to passion or to reason, the meaning of the article is hardly transparent. In favor of the first interpretation is the number of other articles concerned to establish that the judgment of the intellect does not determine the choice of

71. (r66) "Quod, si ratio recta, et voluntas recta.-Errorj quia contra glossam Augustini super illud psalmi: 'Concupivit anima mea desiderare,' etc., et quia secundum hoc, ad rectitudinem voluntatis non esset necessaria gratia, sed scientia solum, quod est error Pelagii" j (r69) "Quod voluntas manente passione et scientia partieulari in aetu non potest agere contra eam" (Mandonnet, 188).


the will; in favor of the second is the use of "knowledge" (scientiaL which suggests that the intellect'S judgment is correct, rather than distorted by passion. n

The obscurity of these articles concerning the will might well have led even disinterested scholars to argue about their meaning. It takes little effort to imagine how the articles helped fuel bitter controversy among keenly interested masters of theology. They debated not only whether the freedom of the will should be understood in one way or another, and whether Bishop Tempier was right to condemn one article or another, but also what various articles meant. The problem of interpretation was compounded by circumstances surrounding the censure of Ciles of Rome.

Giles of Rome and the Propositio Magistralis

Giles of Rome was a member of the Augustinian Hermits who studied theology at Paris in the 12 70S, probably at first under the direction of Aquinas, and lectured on the Sentences in 1276-77. In that highly charged atmosphere, Ciles's tendency to criticize any and all views he found wanting landed him in trouble. le Not long after the 1277 condemnation-indeed, according to Wielockx, less than a month later-the same masters of Paris who approved the 219 articles reconvened to examine 51 articles from Giles's work. Once again, Bishop Tempier was the moving force behind the process. Giles, however, was surprisingly assertive for someone who had yet to receive the license to teach as a master. Instead of recanting the articles judged erroneous, he tried to defend themi his efforts were unsuccessful, and he was forced to leave Paris. 74

Thus began the "exile" of Ciles. His flrehabilitation" began with a letter by Pope Honorius IV, dated lune I, 1285, to Ranulphe de la Houblonniere} Tempier's successor as bishop of Paris.75 The pope

72. Hissette (Enqw3te, 232) consideIs only the first reading of this article. 73. On Giles's life and works see P. Mandonnet, "La carriere de GUles de Rome,"

Revue des sciences philosophiques et theologiques 4 (1910): 480-99; E. Hocedez, "La condamnation de Gilles de Rome," Recherches de theologie ancienne et medievale 4 (r932): 43-58; Wielockx, ed., Aegidii Romani Opera omnia IlLr: Apologia (Firenze, 1985), 3-46, 69-260; F. Kelley, "Robert Orford's Attack on Giles of Rome, JJ Thomist

51 (1987): 70-96. 74. Chart. Unlv. Par., I, 633· 75. Ibid.


reported that Giles had presented himself at the Holy See, requesting a judgment about which teachings he should recant and indicating his readiness to recant them. Honorius preferred to refer the matter to Paris. He ordered that ,a special meeting of all masters of theology be convened} that they decide which doctrines Giles should retract, paying special attention to the articles compiled under Tempier, that the decision be made by a majority of the masters} and that, after the recantation, Ranulphe should see to it that Ciles promptly received his license. The rehabilitation produced impressive results. Giles returned to lecturing the same year and in 1287 became both the Augustinian Hermits' first regent at Paris and the orderls official doctor. 76

The adventures of Giles are significant for late thirteenth-century ethics mainly because the examining theologians conceded one of his doctrines: "There is no evil in the will unless there is error or some lack of knowledge in reason."77 Wielockx holds that this proposition, dubbed the propositio magistralis, was conceded in the 1277 meeting of masters and reaffirmed in the plenary session of 1285. The assembled masters approved it only in its literal sense, as an affirmation that evil in the will is always accompanied by some defect in the intellect, rather than as the claim that some defect in the intellect causes evil in the will; but because approval of the propositio magistralis followed the 1277 condemnation, how it squared with the condemnation, especially with the c~ndemnation of articles 166 and 169, became a source of controversy. Wielockx also argues that the censure of Giles was indirectly aimed at Aquinas's teachings, and that the meeting of 12851 by abolishing some of the original 51 articles and modifying others, indirectly rehabilitated Aquinas. 78

76. His conIreres committed themselves to teaching and defending not only all opinions Giles had already written but also any he might produce in the future. See Analecta Augustiniana 211907-8): 275; Courtenay, Schools and Scholars, 175-78.

77. "Non est malitia in voluntate nisi sit error vel aliqua nescientia in ratione." Wielockx 177n8) finds the sentence in two places in Giles's commentary: I Sent., d. 17, p.

I, princ. I, q. I, and d. 47, princ. 2, q. I jVenice, 1521, H. 89M, 237G). 78. On the date of the censure and the propositio magistralis see Wielockx, 75-96,

where the author argues for a dating between March 7 and March 28,1277, in opposition to Hocedez (ilLa condamnationil ), who sees the propositio as a product of the 1285 meeting. See also Wielockx, 102-110 Ion the meaning of the proposition), no-I? (on the 1285 assembly), 179-224 Ion the connection with AquinasJ.


we shall consider in greater detail problems raised by the pnJpc'sitio magistralis. Here let us return to the aftermath of the

condemnation. If 1285 was a setback for the IfAugustinians/ the period from 1277 to 1285 should have been a time of

William de la Mare

Little is known about William de la Mare other than that he studied and taught theology at Paris, probably serving as Franciscan regent in 1274-751 and that he composed the Correctorium fratris Thomae: a 'collection of 117 passages from Aquinas along with citations against them and William's replies. The firstredaction ofWilliam's Correctorium was written between March 1277 and August 1279, though whether at Paris or in England no one knows. On May 17, 1282, the Franciscan chapter general of Strasbourg declared that the Summa thealogiae could henceforth be used by only the more intelligent lectors, and then only in conjunction with William's corrections. The corrections were to be written in the text, not the margins of the Summa, and seculars were not to be trusted with the copying of them. 79

Since the Correctorium was endorsed by a chapter general, not merely by some provincial chapter, quite a few Franciscans probably supported William1s views. If they were hostile to Alistotle, this would be a likely place to find evidence of their hostility. What one finds, however, is not criticism of Aristotle's teachings so much as a careful dissociation of Aristotle's teachings from Aquinas1s.

A good example of this separation of Aristotle from Aquinas ap-

79. The first redaction of William's COIIectorium /ratris Thomae is included with the first Dominican reply in Les premieres polemiques thomistes, I: Le COIIectorium COIIuptorii 'Quare', ed. P. Glorieux, Bibliotheque thomiste 9 lLe Saulchoir, Kain, 1927). On dating sec R. Creytens, "Autour de la litterature des correctoires," Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum 12 11942): 313-30; V. Heynck, "Zur Datierung des 'Correctorium fratris Thomae' Wilhelms de la Mare: Ein unbeachtetes Zeugnis des Petrus Johannis Olivi," Franziskanische Studien 49 (1967): 1-21. See also "Definitiones Capituli Generalis Argentinae," AIchivum Franciscanum Historicum 26 (1933): 139: "Item minister generalis imponit ministris provincialibus, quod non permittant multiplicari Summam fratris Thome nisi apud lectores rationabiliter intelligentes, et hoc nonnisi cum declarationibus fratris Wilhelmi de Mara, non in marginibus positis sed in quaternis; et huiusmodi declarationes non scribantur per aliquem secularem."


pears in a question critical of intellectualism. Attacking Aquinas's claim that through reason, man determines himself to willing one thing or another, William writes:

If by the act of I'determiningll is meant that reason, settling on one of contraries to be willed and pursued, determines the will by this/-i.e., necessitates the will so that the will cannot will or pursue the contrary-this is against Bernard, De gratia et libero arbitrio, chapter 3, and against the Philosopher} Metaphysics, Book IX, and false and recently condemned, along with many other articles concerning the will .... 80

The passage concludes with William's recitation of articles r63, 164, and 165}. all of which he evidently sees as opposing Aquinas. The possibility that Thomas's views reflect Aristotle's is never even raised. Nor is this discussion unusual. In most cases where William cites the 1277 condemnation against Aquinas, he cites Aristotle in support of the condemnation. In other cases he makes no mention of Aristotle's views. The eternity of the world seems to be the only issue on which William will admit that Aristotle's views fall under the condemned articles. But even in that discussion the principal target remains Aquinasj Aristotle}s role is small. 8

! }

On issues related to ethics} William uses the same approach he generally does. Where he can find passages in Aristotle to use against Thomas}s opinions, he uses themj where he cannot, he cites Christian writings and ignores Aristotle. Virtually never is Aristotle admitted to be solely on the side of Thomisffi. Aquinas, for instance, suggests that pleasure is not essential to happiness (beatitudo). William disagrees} and Aristotle is among the authorities to whom he appeals:

Ba. Correctorium fr. Thomae, a. 55: "Si vero per actum determinandi intelligat quod ratio concludens unum contrariorum esse volen~um alicui et prosequendum, per hoc determinetJ id est necessitet voluntatem ad illud ita quod contrarium voluntas non possit velle nee prosequi, hoc est contra BemardumJ de Gratia et libero arbitrioJ capitula 3°J et contra Philosophum, IXo Metaphysicae (I04BaIff.L et erroneum et damnaturn nuper cum pluribus articulisJ capitulo 9° de voluntate, ubi pro errore condemnaturn est quod post conclusionem de aliquo faciendo voluntas non manet liberaj item quod voluntas hominis necessitatur per suam eognitionem sicut appetitus bruti j itemJ quod voluntas necessario prosequitur quod fumiter creditum est a rationeJ et non potest abstinere ab eo quod ratio determinat" IGlorieux ed'J 232).

Br. Correctorium fr. Thomae, a. 6 (Glorieux ed'J 30-40); cf. ST IJ q. 46J a. 2.


The Philosopher says: "Certainly no one could endure even the good itself if pain were connected with it." In this place the Commentator [Eustratiusl says: "What is the good itself is other than happiness} which can never be painful" j but neverthelessJ as Aristotle says hypothetically: "If happiness made life painful, certainly no one would will to be happy. 11 This the Commentator says. And it is agreed that that without which happiness is not desirable is of the essence of happiness.82

The discussion that follows again cites Book VIII of the Ethics, as well as Books I and X, all in opposition to Aquinas.

In another place William presents Aristotle as opposing the idea that command is an act of reason. On that point} however, William must appeal to the Metaphysics rather than the Ethics:

If reason commands the will, the will is subject to reason. But what commands something else as a subject does not give freedom to the subject. Therefore, the will is not free, nor is it master of its own acts-which is against Damascene, Book Ill, and against the Philosopher, Book IX of the Metaphysics. ss

Chapter 5 I I048aIO-24) is the section of the Metaphysics William has in mind_ There Aristotle says that since rational potencies can produce c'ontrary effects, and since nothing can produce contrary ef-

82. Correctorium fr. ThomaeJ a. 49: "Dicit enim Philosophus [IIS823-25]: Continue autem nullus utique sustineret neque ipsum bonum si triste ipsi inerit; ubi Commentator: Ipsum bonum quid aliud est quam felicitas, quod est impossibile tristej sed tamen quod ex suppositione Aristoteles dicitJ si tristem felicitas faceret vitamJ nullus utique felix vellet esse. Haec Commentator. Et constat quod est de essentia beatitudinis sine quo beatitudo non est appetibilis" (Glorieux ed., 209); cf. ST HIae, q. 3, a. 4.

83. Correctorium fr. ThomaeJ a. 56: "Si ratio imperat voluntatiJ voluntas subditur rationi. Sed quod alii imperat ut subditoJ sibi non dat libertatem operandi. Ergo voluntas non est libera nee domina suorum actuum, quod est contra Damascenum, libro III IDe fide orthodoxa)J et contra Philosophum, IXo Metaphysicae. Item hoc est contra An

selmum .... Item est contra BemardumJ De gratia etlibero arbitrioJ 3° capitulo: Voluntas autem ad quodcumque se volveritJ habet rationem comitem et quodam modo pedissequam .... Item

J hoc [quod Thomas dicit] videtur falsum ex auctoritate Philosophi,

IXo MetaphysicaeJ cuius sententia haec estJ secundum CommentatoremJ quod potentiae rationales possunt facere duo contraria; unde necesse est quod voluntas id est primum principium agendi unum contrariorum quandoque et alterum quandoque fit aliud; et hoc est appetitus vel voluntas. Ex hac auctoritate Philosophi et Commentatoris patet quod voluntas est principalior in agendo quam aliqua alia potentia ratio

nalis" IGlorieux ed'J 234). et ST I-IIacJ q. I7J a. r.


fects simultaneously, there must be something else that decides. The "something else that decidesl! is prohairesis l which Aristotle describes in the Ethics as either desire related to thought or thought related to desire (EN 1I39b4-sl. That description poses problems for scholastic champions of free will, for will is typically understood as an appetitive faculty. Metaphysics IX is more helpfull for there Aristotle stresses that prohairesis is a kind of desire.

Thus William can cite Aristotle to show that the will plays a more prominent role than the intellect in determining action. He first quotes Bernard of Clairvauxls remark that "will has reason as an attendant and, in a certain sense, as a handmaidl'l then turns to the Metaphysics for additional support. "From the authority of the Philosopher,l! he claims, "it is clear that will is preeminent over any other rational power in acting."

William shows no inclination to trace the great errors of philosophy to Aristotle. Like Walter of Brugesl he emphasizes the harmony between Aristotle and Christian authorities. One suspects that in many cases where he ignores Aristotlels teachings, William does believe them to be in errorl but instead of pointing out the mistake, he prefers to pass over it.

Peter Olivi

Thus far we have seen strong opposition to the radical Aristotelians and to Aquinas, but very little hostility to Aristotle. Both WaIter of Bruges and William de la Mare were far more eager to reconcile Aristotle with Christian authorities than to emphasize, or even acknowledgel the conflict between them. Yet this is not to suggest that late thirteenth-century opposition to Aristotle is simply a myth. There·was at least one theologian who regarded Aristotle as a menace-indeed, as far greater a threat to the truth than Bonaventure ever did. This was Peter Olivi, the Spiritual Franciscan who was himself repeatedly accused of heresy. Olivi, probably more than any other writer of the period, could appropriately be described as anti-Aristotelian.

Ferdinand Delormel Orazio Bettini, and David Burr have all insisted that Olivi was notl in fact, anti-Aristotelian-or at any rate, not totally and consistently anti-Aristotelian. Delorme argues that Olivi opposed all non-Christian philosophers: he had no greater re-


spect for Avicenna or Plato than for Aristotle. Besidesl Olivi's student days at Paris-in the r260s1 when masters of arts had just made the joyous discovery of "philosophical ll method-do much to explain why he became a bitter ~pponent of pagan philosophers and their influence. Bettini grants that Olivi was anti-Aristotelian, but only with qualifications. He calls attention to a few places where Olivi rejects Bonaventure's teachings in favor of more Aristotelian positions. Burr argues that Olivi was not consistently hostile to pagan philosophy and that many of the references to Aristotle in Olivi's works are reasonably straightforward appeals to Aristotle's authority. What Olivi truly rejected was only the cult of Aristotle: the willingness of various contemporaries to regard Aristotle's every utterance as true, regardless of its obscurity or the dangers it poses to the faith. 84

It may be true that Olivi was more scathing in his remarks about Aristotle than in his remarks about other philosophers only because Aristotle was the most influential of the group. It is very likely that Olivi was more influenced by Aristotle than he himself realized. It is certainly the case that what inspired his horror of Aristotle was the growing "cult" of Aristotle. When we speak of Olivi as anti-Aristotelian, all of these considerations should be taken into account. Nevertheless, others who studied or taught at Paris in the r260s, though equally horrified by what they saw as paganizing trends, never developed the animosity toward Aristotle that is the earmark of Olivi's works. While his opposition to Aristotle is indeed part of a general hostility to pagan philosophy, I cannot see how that detracts from Olivils deserved reputation for anti-Aristotelianism. That he detested Avicenna hardly establishes that he did not detest Aristotle.

In his treatise How to Read the Books of the Philosophers, Olivi catalogues all the disastrous limitations of :non-Christian philosophy. Recall that Bonaventure was sympathetic to the plight of the ancients, and as regards the "political ll virtues, he thought Aristotle's teachings had value. Olivi is much less receptive, not only to Aristotle'S ethics but to pagan ethics in general. He writes:

84· F. Delorme, "Pr. Petri Joannis Olivi ttactatus 'De perlegendis philosophorum libtis,lII Antonianum 16 (1941): 31-36; O. Bettini, "Olivi diftontc adAristotelc," Studi Francescani 55 (1958): 192-97; D. Burr, "Pettus Joannis Olivi and the PhilosopheIs," Franciscan Studies 31 (1971): 41-71; idem, The Persecution, 24-29.


As I pass over in silence the redemption and restoration of the human race, the grace of God our Savior, angelic protection, the battle against demons, and the victory over their temptations--:--about which the philosophers were altogether ignorant and wrote nothing true-what did they discover about morality and the political rule of men on the whole, since it is clear that they taught us a false happiness and by consequence false virtues? Nor is this surprising when all so disgracefully strayed from the veneration of the true God that they were all equally devoted to idolatry.85

In his questions on Book II of the Sentences, composed around 1280-82, Olivi makes no effort to put a favorable construction on Aristotle's words. A conflict between Aristotle's views and his own troubles him not at all. If Aristotle did not think spiritual substances are composed of form and matter, what of it? Olivi declares a complete lack of interest in Aristotle's views: "His authority, like that of any infidel and idolater, is nothing to me.1!86

Aristotle fares no better in psychology and ethics than in meta~ physics. In Olivi1s eyesl Aristotle's assertion that action necessarily follows as a conclusion of the practical syllogism is the most pemi~ cious of errors: "Not only did Aristotle lie, but it is heretical to fol~ low him in this. 'I While William de la Mare cites Aristotle1s works in support of the 1277 condemnation, Olivi cites them as examples of the articles condemned. Even Book IX of the Metaphysics, which

85· De perlegendis philosophorum libris, n. 23: "Quid de moribus et de toto regimine hominum politico invenerunt, patet, quia falsam beatitudinem ac per consequens falsas virtutes nobis tradiderunt, ut taceam de redemptione et reparatione humani generis et de gratia Dei .Salvatoris et de custodia angelica et de pugna contra daemones et eorum tentatione vincenda, de quibus nihil omnino veri sciverunt aut scripserunt? Nec mirum, quando omnes in cultu veri Dei sic turpiter erraverunt, ut cuncti pariter idololatriae deservirent" (Delorme ed., 44).

86. -Quaest. in 11 Sent., q. 16: J/ AIistoteles etiam non hoc videtur ibi sentire, licet mihi non sit cura quid hoc vel alibi senserit; eius enim auctoritas et cuiuslibet infidelis etidolatarae mihi est nulla ... " (Jansen ed., I, 337). On the dating of Olivi's works see V. Heynck, "Zur Datierung der Sentenzenkommentare des Petrus Johannis Olivi und des Petrus de Trabibus," Franziskanische Studien 38 (1956): 371-98, esp. 378; "Zur Datierung einiger Schriften des Petrus Johannis Olivi/' Franziskanische Studien 46 (1964): 335-64, esp. 359-64. Heynck maintains that there is no evidence for a full commentary on the Sentences by Olivi prior to 1287-88; the questions edited by Jansen come not from Olivi's Sentences commentary but from the second book of his Summa quaestionum super Sententias.


many Franciscans interpreted as affirming the freedom of the will, has no redeeming value for Olivi: he sees it as denying the will's freedom. Olivi expresses amazement that any Christian would ap~ prove of that discussion: "To believe the saying of a man without faithl without any proof, to the peril of the Christian faith and ex~ pressly against reasonl seems to be an act of the greatest faithless~ ness and great insanity." When Aristotle's teachings happen to be in harmony with his own, Olivi can be equally contemptuous. In one place he observes: "There are many other ways in which the proposition could be deriv,ed from Aristotle and his commentatorl

but I omit them, both for the sake of brevity and from a dread of his authority. ,,87

One should not leap to the conclusion that Olivi pours all of his energies into an assault on lithe philosophers," that is, the ancients and those who commented on their works. He is as much opposed, if not more so, to the philosophantes-that is, those contempora~ ries he believed to be promoters of pagan philosophy. Both radical Aristotelian doctrines and the more moderate teachings of Aquinas draw sharp criticism. Olivi sees opposition to Thomism as a sort of duty for a Franciscanl or more generally, for any right~minded Christian. Still, there remains an important difference between Olivi's approach and William de la Mare's: where William worked to separate Aristotle from Aquinas, Olivi tends to present the two as cut from the same cloth.88 Since ArIstotle's authority is nothing, or at least nothing positive to him; he is happy to give Aquinas its dubious benefit. Recall that Waiter of Bruges had also conceded AI-

87. Quaest. in II Sent., q. 57: "Ad tertium dicendum quod in praedictis verbis Aristoteles non solum est mendtus, sed etiam sequi eum in hoc est haereticum" (Jansen ed., IT, 356). Ibid.: n ••. Credere dictum hominis infidelis absque omni probatione in periculum fidei christianae et contra rationem expresse videtur esse actus magnae infidelitatis et magnae dementiae" (11, 354). See also ibid., il, 309, where Olivi explains that the views expressed in Metaphysics IX, chap. 5 fall under article r62 of the 1277 condemnation. Quaest. in 11 Sent., q 31: "Multae etiam aliae viae sunt quibus ex Aristatele et eius commentatore posset trahipropositumj sed omitto tarn ratione brevitatis quam horrore sua auctoritatis" (Jansen ed., 1,551).

88. Olivi's criticisms of Aquinas have attracted a great deal of attention. Some examples: E. Bettoni, Le dottrine (Ilosofiche di Pier di Giovanni Olivi (Milan, 1959), 416-28; Krizovljan, "Primordia scholae/' r47-48; M.-T. d'Alvemy, "Une adversaire de saint Thomas: PetrusIohannes Olivi," in St. Thomas Aquinas I274-I974: Commemorative Studies, vo!. 2 (Torontoi 1974), 179-92, 207-18; Burr, The Persecution, 29-30.


istotle's authority to Aquinas, but only grudgingly and in rare cases.

Perhaps Olivi's divergence from the approach of his confreres can be partly explained by some peculiar features of his career. Though he studied at Paris, he never became a master. We have no evidence that Olivi even lectured as a bachelor at Paris. His questions on the Sentences were composed after he left Paris, perhaps when he was serving as a lector in the Franciscan studium at Montpellier. Olivils university career was apparently cut short by his superiors, who regarded his teachings with grave suspicion. Though the suspicions were followed by accusations of heresy, from both within the order and without, Olivi still managed to do a good deal of writing and was permitted to teach at various Franciscan studia.

This is not to suggest that Glivi's animosity toward the philosophantes of Paris was nothing more than sour grapes. It is to say that his works were not produced in the university environment from which issued most of the texts considered in this study. The difference in setting might be significant. At the University of Paris, even at the Franciscan convent there, a contemptuous dismissal of Aristotle would have triggered protests. Had Glivi been writing as a master at Paris, he would have been under pressure to exercise greater restraint. Whether he would have done so is another matter.

Richard of Middleton

Richard of Middleton was a bachelor at Paris when his order endorsed the Correctorium jratris Thomae. As regent master (I284-871 he would have witnessed the rehabilitation of Giles and the teaching of doctrines, including Thomistic doctrines, considered erroneous just a few years earlier. But perhaps we should not rely too much on immediate historical context in interpreting Richard's commentary on the Sentences. Although he began the commentary while lecturing at Paris, he apparently did not put it in final form until around I295.89

Richard often tries to find a middle way between the views of his

89· Hocedez, Richard de Middleton, 49-55j R. Zavalloni, Richard de Mediavilla et la controverse sw: la plw:aliM des formes (Lollvain, 195 IJ, 505-7.


older confreres and Thomistic positions criticized in the Correctorium. For example, where William flays Aquinas for making happiness consist principally in an act of intellect rather than an act of will, Richard writes, IIIt seems to me it should be said to the question that happiness consists in an act of intellect and an act of will together. 1190 Though Richard usually does not cite the I277 articles against his opponents, neither does he defend views apparently covered by the articles.

It is sometimes said that the Franciscan chapter general held at Assisi in 1279 forbade me.J;l1bers of the order to support any of the articles condemned at Paris in I2 77. Maur Burbach reports trying, and failing, to find such a requirement in records -of the chapter. Yet there is a provision inserted into a redaction of the Franciscan constitutions from that period which prohibits friars from approving "opinions rejected [reprobatas] by the bishop and masters of Paris" regarding faith or morals, and this raises the possibility that Richard's concern to avoid the 1277 articles owes something to a Franciscan rule supporting the condemnation.91

Even if there was no legislation in effect when Richard began his commentary on the Sentences, what might be interpreted as such a ruling was indeed made before he put the commentary into its final form. The Franciscan constitutions of 1292 declare that friars must avoid any opinion "commonly rejected by the bishop and masters of Paris" regarding faith or morals.92 Whether this provision should

90. Sent., IV, d. 49, a. I, q. 6: "Videtur ergo mihi dicendum ad quaestionem, quod beatitudo consistit in actu intellectus et voluntatis simul" (Brescia, 1591, IV, 652)j cf.

Correctorium fr. Thomae, a. 49 (Glorieux ed., 208-20). Some of Richard's various agreements and disagreements with Thomism are discussed in Hocedez, Richard de Middleton, loaf£. The discussion of Sharp (Franciscan Philosophy, 211-76, passim) should be

used with caution. 91. "Le 'Constitutiones Generales Antique' dei Frati Minori nella redazione Assi

sana del 1279," Miscellanea Francescana 35 (1935): 80: JlNullus frater audeat opinionem aliquam asserere vel ctiam approbare scienter que a magistris nostris communiter reprobatur, nec opinionem singularem cuiuscumque suspectam et calumniabilem, maxime circa videm vel mores, audeat de£ensare, et potissime opiniones a domino Episcopo et a magistris Parisiensibus reprobatas et qui contra fecerit, nisi, admonitus per ministIum, resipuerit, ab omni doctrina officio sit suspensus" i Burbach, 14703.

92. F. Ehrle, "Die altesten Redactionem der Generalconstitutionem des Franziskanerordens," Archiv fUr Literatur- und Kirchengeschichte des Mittelalters 611892): 110:

"Nullus etiam frater audeat aliquam opinionem corruptam non sanam vel ab episcopo et magistris parisieosibus communiter reprobatum scienter asserere vel etiam appro-


be read as an effort to enforce the 1277 articles is another matter. 1/ Reprobatus" is nowhere near as specific as If damnatusl! i Tempier is not named; 11 communiter" might be interpreted as a loophole, allowing friars to defend opinions condemned in 1277 but generally accepted ten years laterj and /let magistris" might provide another loophole, allowing friars to defend opinions rejected by the bishop but not by many of the masters. The wording was sufficiently vague to allow the order a good deal of latitude in interpreting and enforc~ ing it.

Richard's reading of Aristotle is more faithful to the historical Aristotle than either William's or WaIter's, but it is still decidedly sympathetic. A case in point is the standard voluntarist claim that the will is nobler than the intellect. Richard cites for the opposing position Metaphysics XII and Ethics X, where Aristotle says explicitly that the intellect is the best thing in us. For the greater nobility of the will, however, he twice cites Metaphysics IX. This last text prevails, and reflection on rational potencies gives Richard a means of explaining the remarks in Ethics X. He observes that in that passage "intellect" includes "the whole intellectual part of the soul, which embraces both intellect and will." On the will's freedom to act against the judgment of reason, Richard again cites sections of the Ethics both pro and con. He himself asserts that the will can act against reason, and in his replies to the opening arguments, he does his best to resolve the apparent conflict between his own position and the Ethics."

Unlike Peter Olivi, Richard does not call attention to conflicts between Aristotle's ethics and Christian ethics. Consider, for example, Aristotle's problematic remarks about wealth and other external goods as necessary conditions for human happiness. Richard gives a fair report of Aristotle's position:

The end of human life is what is in its own right most .self-sufficient. But happiness [felicitast which is the same as beatitude [beatitudol, requires external goods, according to the Philosopher in Book I of the Ethics, chapter 12.

bare publice vel occulte, nec opinionem singularem cuiuscunque calumpniabilem vel suspectam maxime circa fidem vel mores audeat defensare"j Burbach, 149.

93· Sent., IT, d. 24, a. I, q. 5 (Brescia, 1591, IT, 297-300); ibid., d. 38, a. 2, q. 4 (IT, 470-73).


According to Aristotle, then, beatitude is not the end of human life; but Augustine says that it is, and Richard must reconcile the opposing authorities. He solves the problem, much as Aquinas does, by distinguishing between two senses of lithe ultimate end of human life," along with two senses of "beatitude." In his replies to the opening arguments, Richard concludes: liThe Philosopher speaks there of political happiness, which is had in this life and mixed Witll manyafflictions."94

This resolution is foreshadowed in the prologue to Richard's commentary. The time-honored question is whether theological doctrine is necessary in addition to natural cognition and philosophy. The answer, of course, is that it is. There could hardly be a better place for a lecture on the errors of Aristotle, the limits of natural reason, and the blindness of the philosophantes. Richard's analysis, however, is even-handed. Against the need for theology he cites Aristotle's Metaphysics, Algazali and Cicero, but also Augustine; in favor he cites St. Paul, but also Aristotle. In his response Richard concedes that the few things one can know about God through purely human resources require much time and effort and are often mixed with errors. His replies to the opening arguments are more optimistic. While he acknowledges the need for revelation, he also stresses the importance of metaphysics. Granted, metaphysics cannot bring eternal happiness, but the teachings of philosophy can, when well used, aid in disposing man to eternal happiness. 95

11 Augustinianism" in Retrospect

Duns Scotus's twentieth-century admirers sometimes hail his thought as a new synthesis-one that reconciled Aristotle's teachings with Augustine's and so steered safely between the Scylla and Charybdis that supposedly dominated the later thirteenth century. Bettoni, for example, describes Scotus's teachings as "a notable effort to overcome the opposition between Augustinianism and Aris-

94. Sent., IV, d. 49, a. I, q. 2: "Finis vitae humanae est quid per se sufficientissimum, sedfelicitas, quae idem est quod beatitudo, indiget exterioribus bonis, secundum Philosophum, I Ethicorum, 12 [1099b1-8]" (Brescia, 1591, IV, 648). Ibid., ad 3: 11 Ad tertium dicendum quod ibi Philosophus loquitur de felicitate political quae habetur in hac vita, quae multis miseriis est permixta" (IV, 649)·

95. Sent., Prol., I, q. I (Brescia, 1591, 1,3-5). Cf. STI, q. I, a. 1.


totelianism that emerged in his time and threatened to crystallize." On his account, Scotus differed considerably from earlier Francis~ cans in his effort to reconcile Aristotle with Augustine.96 Benoit Martel comes to similar conclusions, though he sees the new era beginning a bit earlier, with Gonsalvus of Spain.

Gonsalvus was regent of the Franciscan school at Paris in 1302-

3, when Scotus was a bachelor. The following year he was elected minister general of the order, and he continued in that capacity until his death in 1313. According to Martel, what distinguishes Gon~ salvus from his immediate predecessors is his earnest effort to rec~ oncile Aristotle with Augustine. Gonsalvus IIcorrects the tradi~ tional interpretation of certain Aristotelian texts in order to bring them into harmony with Augustinian positions"-a "gracious atti~ tude toward Aristotle," which differs considerably from lithe anath ~ emas of St. Bonaventure and other representatives of the Franciscan school." Martel adds that Gonsalvus often invokes Aristotle in sup~ port of doctrines commonly deemed Augustinian. Gonsalvus ar~ gues, inter alia, that the texts in Aristotle apparently opposing the will's primacy have been misinterpreted. 97

From his study of Gonsalvus1 MarteI is led to question the origi~ nality of Duns Scotus. The originality of Gonsalvus himself might well be questioned. WaIter of Brugesl William de la Mare, and Rich~ ard of Middleton all did their best to reconcile Aristotle with Augustine; the secular Henry of Ghent made similar efforts. All invoked Aristotle in support of doctrines now deemed Augustinianl

and none of them presented Aristotle as opposing the primacy of the will. Nor did they reject Aristotle1s authority in ethics. Instead of insisting that one must choose between Aristotle's ethics and Christian ethics1 they worked to integrate the two. Uncertainties surrounding the Collationes in Hexaemeron leave the later Bonaventures attitude open to question. The most one can say with con~ fidence is that even Bonaventure appealed to Aristotle when dis~ cussing virtues naturally acquired and pertinent to human societYI and that his hostility to Aristotle1s teachings has been exaggerated.

The one thinker we have seen to reject Aristotle's authority, to

96. Bettoni, "The Originality," 43. 97. B. Martel, Lapsychologie de Gonsalve d'Espagne (Montreal-Paris,,1968), 21-23,

r83-85·


present Aristotles psychology and ethics as irredeemably flawedl is Peter Olivi. Olivi did indeed insist on a choice between Aristotle and the saints

l between pagan philosophy and the Christian faith.

Though we would not be justified in concluding that he was the only theologian of the period with that perspective, our evidence does suggest that he was atypical. Other so-called flAugustinians" (or "Neo-Augustinians/L though often firm opponents of Thomism, were far more eager to separate Aristotle from Aquinas than

to lump the two together. If there was ever an opposition between fI Augustinianismll and

11 Aristotelianisml

" it was never in any danger of 1/ crystallizing." Far from demanding of their opponents, 11 Are you now or have you ever been a member of the Aristotelian party?" most of the late thirteenth-century masters presumed to be fI Augustinians ll tried to establish that their own views were in harmony with Aristotle1s. Modem scholars might justifiably fault them for distorting Aristotle's thought, for papering over genuine conflicts between Aristotles ethics and psychology, on the one hand, and the teachiugs of Augustine and other Christian authorities, on the other. But if we do fault them, let us bear in mind that Thomas Aquinas and other quasi-" Aristotelian" masters of theology engaged in similar distortions. Efforts to reconcile Aristotle with the faith were the rule, not the exception, in the theology faculty; and what emerged, as we shall see, was the transformation of classical virtue ethics.

3

VOLUNTARISM

Having argued that the standard story of late thirteenth-century philosophy relies far too heavily on If-isms," it may seem odd that I myself should devote a chapter to "voluntarism," Let me explain that I see nothing wrong with discussing /I-isms," just so long as the meaning of the terms is reasonably clear, and so long as they help to describe, without needless distortion or tendentiousness the intellectual movements of a period. My first task/ then, mu~t be to clarify what I mean by "voluntarism."

Some scholars trace the emergence of voluntarism to the thought of Duns Seotus. Others see it as beginning earlier, with Alexander of Hales and John of La Rochelle, or least with Bonaventure and his followers. Still others associate the rise of voluntarism with WilHam of Ockham. These disagreements about dating are largely superficial, since flvoluntarism" begins earlier or later depending upon what one means by the term. If "voluntarism" signifies little more than a general emphasis on the affective and volitional aspects of human nature, then it originated with the first Franciscan masters at Paris. (LQttin uses the term in this psychological sense and for that reason sees voluntarism as beginning quite early.) If "volun-

94

VQLUNTARISM 95

tarism" signifies a strong emphasis on the active character of the will, the claim that the will is free to act against reason's dictates, and the conviction that moral responsibility depends on this con~ ception of the will's freedom, then it began with Bonaventure's successors. Finally, if "voluntarism" signifies a strong eniphasis on God's freedom (or "absolute power") to will anything not involving a contradiction, then it probably began later still, with Duns Scotus or Williarn of Ockham.

'The present study will have nothing to say about voluntarism in the third sense. Though I shall briefly discuss the first kind of voluntarism, as exemplified by 'the works'of Bonaventure and his Franciscan predecessors at Paris, I shall be chiefly concerned with the second kind: the movement that arose with Bonaventure's successors. Vernon Bourke calls this movement "ethical voluntarism" in order to distinguish it from the "psychological voluntarism" of Bonaventure and earlier masters. I San Cristobal-Sebastian calls it simply "voluntarisill," arguing that voluntarism originated with Waiter of Bruges and William de la Mare, who led the battle against Thomism. Though Stadter's conclusions are more measured, he too stresses the difference between Bonaventure's teachings and the teachings of Bonaventure's successors.2 There is indeed a striking difference, but Bourke's distinction between the earlier, "psychological" voluntarism and the later, '{ethical" voluntarism helps mark the difference without giving the misleading impression that Bonaventure and earlier masters made no contribution at all to the later movement. The term "ethical voluntarism" also captures what, I shall argue, are the chief philosophical concerns motivating ardent defenses of the freedom of the will in the last quarter of the thirteenth century. If I refer to this movement as simply "voluntarism," relying on context to distinguish it from the voluntarism of Bonaventure and his predecessors, I do so only for the sake of convenience.

Certain doctrines are characteristic of voluntarism in the period beginning in the 1270s. Perhaps the most familiar is that the will is

I. Bourke, History of Ethics, vol. I (Garden City, 1970), 138, 147. 2. San Cristobal-Sebastian, 259~6oi Stadter, Psychologie und Metaphysik, 3.

Strictly speaking, San Cristobal-Sebastian finds the origins of ethical voluntarism in disputed questions he believes falsely attributed to WaIter of Bruges.

VOLUNTARISM

nobler than or superior to the intellect. Even here we see a contrast between Bonaventure and later thinkers. William de la Mare, Peter Olivi, Gonsalvus of Spain, and Duns Scotus all argue for the superiority of the will.3 Bonaventure, in contrast, never discusses the question ex professo. For him it is not an issue, though perhaps one can see in certain of his arguments an implied endorsement of the later view. Other earmarks ofvoluntaris.m ar~ the claims that beatitude or happiness consists more in an activity of will than in an activity of intellect, that man's freedom derives more from his will than his rationality, that the will is free to act against the intellect's judgment, and that the will, not the intellect, commands the body and the other powers of the soul. William de la Mare defended all these theses against Thomas's arguments to the contrary, and later Franciscans tended to adopt, albeit with varying degrees of conviction, the same positions as William. These doctrines can therefore be taken as points of division between Franciscan thought and Thomism, or more generally, between voluntarism and intellectualism.

Though we shall devote most of our attention to Franciscans' teachings-particularly to their arguments against Thomistic intellectualism-we should not forget that the intellectualist-voluntarist controversy extended well beyond the mendicant orders. Aquinas was a more moderate intellectualist than Godfrey of Fontaines; Richard of Middleton was a more moderate voluntarist than Henry of Ghent. Not only were seculars involved in the controversy, they even helped to define the ends of the spectrum.

Since our aim in investigating psychology, and even, to some extent metaphysics, is to understand some of the background for late thirteenth-century transformations of virtue ethics, we shall consider only two broad questions: First, what innovations are made by the voluntarist movement that arose in the I270s, with Bonaventure's successors? And second, how do these masters reconcile the freedom of the will, as they understand it, with Aristotle's teachings?

Our examination of voluntarism from the I270S onward will fo-

3. Wilham de la Mare, Correctorium fr· Thomae, aa. 34, 50 (Glorieux ed., 161-64, 221-.22); Olivi, Quaest. in II Sent., q. 57 (Jansen ed., il, 365); Gonsalvus, Quaestiones disputatae, q. 4 (Amoros ed., 5.o-68); Scotus, Opus Oxoniense, IV, d. 49, q. exlat. (Vives ed., XXI, 123--64).

VOLUNTARISM 97

cus especially on arguments for the active character of the will and for the will as the source of human freedom. Additional problems could be, and indeed have been, investigated. Defense of the will's freedom, for example, leads naturally to an inquiry into what the will is, or at any rate, what it was taken to be. On that topic there are detailed studies by Albrecht Dihle and Vemon Bourke. Arguments for the active character of the will raise questions in physics and metaphysics, particularly as regards an important Aristotelian principle: whatever is moved is moved by something else. If Aristotle is right, is self-movement even possible? On that topic we have the researches of Roy Effler, James Weisheipl, and John Wippel, among others. Other issues debated by intellectualists and voluntarists are discussed in surveys of the controversy. The most exhaustive treatments are by Lottin, Stadter, and San Cristobal-Sebastian, though briefer studies by Raymond Macken .and by J. B. Korolec are also well worth the reader's attention.

4

Finally, it should be said that controversies regarding the freedom of the will bear directly on debates about moral weakness and the virtues, topics taken up in chapters 4 and 5. In those chapters we shall consider the properly moral aspects of freedom. Here we focus rather narrowly on psychological and metaphysical issues, looking especially to see what various masters of the late thirteenth century made of Aristotle. For although concerns to safeguard moral respon-

4. Bourke, will in Western Thought (New York, 1964); Dihle, The Theoryof the will in Classical Antiquity (Berkeley, 1982). Among shorter treatments, two are especially helpful: Bourke, "Human Tendencies, Will and Freedom," in L'homme et son destin apres les penseUIS du moyen age (Louvain-Paris, 1960), and N. Gilbert, "The Concept of the will in Early Latin Philosophy," Journal of the History of Philosophy 1(1963):

17-35. See also EffleI, Tohn Duns Scotus and the Principle "Omne quod movetur ab alio movetur" (St. Bonaventure, N.Y., 196.2); Weisheipl, "The Principle Omne quod movetm ab alio movetur in Medieval Physics," 1sis 56 (1965): 26-45; Wippel, "Godfrey of Fontaines and the Act-Potency Axiom," Journal of the History of Philosophy 11

(1973): 299-317; Lottin, "Libre arbitre et liberte depuis saint Anselme jusqu'a la fin du XIIIe siecle," in Psychologie et morale I:II-389i San CIistobal-Sebastian) StadteI, Psychologie und Metaphysik; Macken, "La volonte") idem, "Heinrich von Gent im Gesprach mit seinen Zeitgenossen libel die menschliche Freiheit," Franziskanische Studien 59 (1977): I25-82; Korolec, "L'Ethique a Nicomaque et le probleme du libIe arbitre a la lumiere des commentaires Parisiens du XIU

e siecle et la philosophie de la liberte de Jean Buridan," Miscellanea Mediaevalia 10 (1976): 331-48; idem, "Free will and free choice," Cambridge History of Later Medieval Philosophy, 62 9-41.

VOLUNTARISM

sibility were the driving force behind defenses of the will's freedom voluntarist teachings in ethics make little sense without at least ~ general understanding of the psychological and metaphysical doctrines that help to support them.

From Free Decision to Free Will

The first obstacle to any study of v~luntarism is a problem of translation. Korolec explains the difficulty quite clearly:

The cluster of problems concerning human freedom and action which are discussed by modem and contemporary English-speaking philosophers under the title 'freedom of the will' were discussed in the Middle Ages under the heading 'liberum arbitrium.' But the Latin expression cannot simply be translated by the English one, because it does not contain the Latin word for will (voluntasl, and it is a matter of debate, among those who believed in the existence of liberum mbitrium, whether it was the will, or some other faculty, which was the bearer of the freedom involved in liberum arbitrium, and indeed whether the will is free at alL The will itself was defined as the rational appetite, or the desire for the good apprehended by reason, and not in terms of a capacity for choosing between alternatives; hence its relation to liberum arbitrium was something which required investigation. 'Freedom of choice' is probably a less misleading translation of 'liberum arbitrium'· but here too there is the difficulty that the Latin expression doe~ not contain the technical word for choice (electiol. 5

It would be more accurate to say that medieval writers discussed liberum arbitrium until around 1270. Thereafter some discussed free will (voluntas liberal, some liberum arbitrium, and some both.

In this study "liberum arbitrium" is translated as "free decision." While "free choice," "free will," and even "freewill" may be more common translations of the expression, they have the disadvantages described by Korolec. Then, too, all those translations give liberum arbitrium a voluntarist cast, which tends to bias one's reading of medieval comments on the topic. "Decision," with its legal connotations, more closely approximates the original meaning of "arbitrium," and "free decision," while susceptible to a voluntarist

5· Korolec, "Free Will," 630.

VOLUNTARISM 99

interpretation, seems more neutral between voluntarism and intellectualism than the usual English renderings of "liberum arbitrium."

The terminology is important because it underwent a change in the late thirteenth century. Around 1270 some masters began to discuss the freedom of the will (libertas voluntatis). After 1277 the freedom of the will was the most common topic of debate. Yet from the early Middle Ages through the 1260s, "the freedom of the will" and "free will" are scarcely even mentioned. Instead one finds discussions of free decision.

Free decision is a topic in Thomas's Summa theologiae, in the writings of Hugh of St. Cher, Roland of Cremona, and Albert the Great-all Dominican masters. The same topic is discussed by Alexander of Hales, John of La Rochelle, and Bonaventure-all Franciscan masters. Even Philip the Chancellor, who declared that freedom is man's power of doing what he wills, mentioned free will only in passing. For the most part Philip retained the traditional topic, liberum arbitrium, even while asserting that this free decision belongs to the will. 6 During this period there were differences of opinion as to whether free decision is an act (as William of Auxerre suggested), or a power of reason and will (as Peter Lombard suggestedl, or a power or faculty distinct from reason and will (as AlbeIt the GI!',at suggested), or a habit of both reason and will (as Bonaventure suggested). There was also the more basic question of whether reason and will are themselves separate faculties. Philip said they are in substance the same faculty. Hugh of St. Cher agreed. He accordingly made the power of free decision the same as reason and will. By the same token, he made the act of free decision a combination of reason1s judgment and the will's choice. Yet despite disagreements about the ontological status of free decision (power, habit, or act), and despite disputes about the relative contributions of reason and will, it was invariably free decision that was in question.

Lottin's studies of medieval psychology reveal an interesting pattern. Beginning with William of Auxerre, many scholastics either defined free decision as 11 a faculty of will and reason" or used that definition as the basis for their own variants. Book I of Augustine's

6. For texts see Lottin, "Libre arbitre," 66-262.

lOO VOLUNTARISM

De libero arbitrio was repeatedly cited as the authority for the definition. Although the dictum is not actually found in that work, the misattribution itself is of little moment. 7 What is interesting is that such a variety of thinkers used the same definition as a jumping-off point: Hugh of St. Cher, philip the Chancellor, the Franciscans Alexander of Hales, John of La Rochelle, and Bonaventurc, and the Dominicans AlbeIt the Great and Thomas Aquinas.

Since the definition is rather vague~ there was room for debate about how it should be taken. Is free decision truly a power or faculty, or is it a habit or an act? If it is a faculty, is it distinct from or the same as reason and will? Does reason play the leading role in free decision? Or is the will's role more significant? These are the questions that most concerned masters in the first part of the thirteenth century. The early Franciscan masters were no exception. Alexander, John of La Rochelle, and Bonaventure all took pains to clarify the ontological status of free decision. All three weighed the relative contributions of will and intellect. And however much they stressed the will's role, all three also linked free decision to the intellect. None equated it with free will j none marshalled arguments to prove that the will can act against reason's dictates. Only later :vould the will's freedom in relation to the intellect become a major Issue.

A few examples may serve to illustrate the striking difference between the voluntarism of early Franciscan masters and the voluntarism of their successors. Alexander of Hales makes free decision a power distinct from reason and will, capable of commanding both the other faculties. He adds that reason, will, and free decision form a Trinity in the soul, with the last reflecting the power of the Father. B On such a theory, a conflict between reason and will is not a serious possibility. Nor is the will's ability to command the intellect significant: the power of free decision commands will and intellect alike.

The harmony between reason and will is again stressed by John of La Rochelle. John says that the power of free decision is called

7· On the misattribution see Lottin, "Libre arbitre," 64. The definition of liberum arbitrium as a facultas rationis et voluntatis is found in Peter Lombard's Sentences 11 d. 25· Since commenting on the Sentences was a required exercise for aspiring scholas: tic theologians, it is hardly surprising that the definition was so often repeated.

8. Lottin, "Libre arbitre," r39.

VOLUNTARISM lOr

"reason" insofar as it is cognitive and "will" insofar as it is motive. Hence, when "free decision" names a power of the soul, it is the same as reason and will. On the other hand, John does make two claims that later Franciscans will repeat: that freedom exists formally in the will, and that the will is essentially active. Why not then call freedom of decision IIfreedom of will"? Because, John answers, "there is no freedom of will without rational apprehension. In free decision the material element is reason's decision, viz., the judgment of what should or should not be done; the formal element is the will, to which, in its own right, freedom belongs."9

Bonaventure's work better exemplifies voluntarism than either John's or Alexander's. In Bonaventure's writings the emphasis on the will is quite strong: "Decision belongs to reason, freedom to will, for the other powers in us have to be moved at the nod [nutus] and command of the will.I!W We might see here the source of the notion, so important for later voluntarists, that the will commands the intellect and the other powers of the soul. Bonaventure also argues that free decision resides formally and principally in the wilL Certainly free decision must begin with reason, for thought disposes the will to move; but since no action would follow without the will's command, free decision is completed by and consists principally in the will. Finally, Bonaventure claims that the will is essentially active. As his authority he cites Anselm's remark that "the will is a self-nlOving instrument"-a saying that will often appear in the arguments of later Franciscans,ll

9. "Sed quaeres quare non nominatur libertas voluntatis. Responsio. Quoniam tibertas voluntatis sine apprehensione rationalis non est. Ideo in libero arbitrio, matcriale est arbitrium rationis, scilicet iudiciumfaciendi et non faciendi; formale, voluntas cu

ius per se est libertas" ILottin, "Libre arbitre," 134). 10. Sent., 11, d. 25, p. I, a. un., q. 3: "Dicitur enim libemm et dicitur arbitrium; et

arbitrium est ipsius rationis, libertas vera ipsius voluntatis, ad cuius nutum et imperium moveri habent ceteIa, quae sunt in nobis" (Quaracchi ed., Il, 598).

11. Ibid., q. 6: "Dicendum quod cum liberum arbitrium sit facultas sive dominium, ex qua dicitur potentia facilis, non solum ad movendum alia, sed etiam ad movendum se ipsam; sicut ratio movendi se inchoatur in ratione et consummatur in vohmtate .. Dieo motum inchoaIi in ratione quia non movetur appetitus nisi preambulo cogitatu; nequaquam enim amaIe possumus quod non cognoscimus; et ideo ad hoc, quod motus fiat, praeit cognitio disponens, et subsequitur voluntas perficiens. Quantumcumque enim praecedat cogitatus, numquam motus sequitUI, nisiipsum imperet voluntatis affectio .... Et sic patet, quod liberas aIbitrii sive facultas, quae dicitur liberum arbitrium, in ratione inchoatur et in voluntate consummatur. Et quoniam penes illud prin-

I02 VOLUNTARISM

In isolation, these opinions might be taken to mark the origins of ethical voluntarisID. In context, however, Bonaventure's views are far more akin to his predecessors' than to those of his own disciples. Consider, for example, the questions he addresses:

Whether free decision exists only in those creatures having reaSOD, or also in brute animals;

Whether free decision is a power diStinct from reason and will; Whether free decision is the name of a habit or a power. 12

One looks in vain for such questions as "Whether the will can command the intellece' or "Whether the will is nobler than the intellect."

Even when Bonaventure discusses an issue that will figure in the subsequent disputes between voluntarists and intellectualists, his handling of it is quite different from later Franciscans'. He claims, for example, that free decision resides principally in the will. Several objections to this view are considered, and one is clearly intellectualist in tone:

The will is always moved according to the final judgment made by reason. Therefore, if the one leads as judging and the other follows as judged, it seems that free decision remains more in the part of reason than of will, since freedom resides more in that which leads and commands than in that which follows and obeys.13

One can well imagine what William de la Mare, Olivi, or Scotus would answer: Even after a final judgment has been made by reason, the will remains free; the will can act against reason's judgment; the will need not pursue what reason dictates~all positions supported by the condemnation of 1277. Yet what does Bonaventure

cipaliter residet, penes quod consummatur, ideo principaliter libertas arbitrii et dominium in voluntate consistit. Et iterum, quia illud, in quo res inchoatur, se habet per modum materialis j illud, in quo consummatur, se habet per modum £ormalis . rQuaracchi ed., II, 594). On the will as essentially active see q. I rIT, 594).

12. Ibid., qq. r-2, 4 rQuaracchi ed., il, 592-97, 600-602).

r3· Sent., IT, d. 25, p. I, a. un., q. 6: "Facto ultimo iudicio rationis, semper voluntas movetur secundum illud: ergo si hoc praeit tanquam iudicans, et illud sequitur tanquam iudicatum, cum libertas magis resideat penes mud quod praeit et imperat, quam penes illud quod sequitur et obedit: videtur, quod liberum arbitrium plus se tenet ex parte rationis quam voluntatis" (Quaracchi ed., 11, 604).

VOLUNTARISM I03

He distinguishes between two kinds of judgment: the first theoretical, the second practical, that is, the definitive judg

that this particular deed is or is not to be done. The latter, he is never without will, for it ends with a movement of will and

always in accord with the will's preference. Hence, the assertion the will always follows practical judgment, while true, does

not imply that the will follows what is principally the act of another power. Rather, the will leads the act of another power to its own act.14

The point of Bonaventure's discussion is indeed to safeguard the freedom and the active character of the will, but he does not do so by asserting the will's ability to act against the final judgment of the intellect. He stresses instead the harmony between the will's preference and the intellect's judgment, reminding us that practical judgment ends with a movement of wilL His analysis bears some resemblance to a position later defended by intellectualists: When the intellect has concluded its deliberation, the will cannot fail to choose and act in accordance with the intellect's judgment; but because the will's willing of the end was the cause of the intellect's deliberating, the will chooses only from conditional necessity. Or more succinctly: If the will wills the end, it must also choose the means dictated by the intellect.

On the whole, Bonaventure seems concerned to avoid admitting conflicts between reason and will in the first place. He combines the two in such a way that the problem of conflict can scarcely arise. Bonaventure accordingly rejects the view that free decision is a power really distinct from reason and wiJL On that theory, free decision would be the moving and commanding power, while reason and will would be relegated to passive roles. [; Oddly enough, Bonaventure also rejects the view that free decision is simply a Iluniversal whole" formed by reason and will together. By his own admission, he finds it difficult to understand how one power or faculty could be made up of two. Would this not lead to two freedoms-one of reason, another of will?

Bonaventure fears that it would. He accordingly concludes that free decision is not a power at all. It is rather a habit (habitus) of

14. Ibid. (Quaracchi ed., 11, 606). IS· Sent., Il, d. 25, p. I, a. un., q. 2 (Quaracchi ed., il, 596).

VOLUNTARISM

reason and will. 16 This habit, he explains, is of the kind found in a faculty capable of certain acts in its own right, but only in conjunction with another faculty. Such are the acts of consent and choice. Intellect and will can perform them only when the two join together in operation. Free decision thus adds nothing to reason and will but a mutual relation to each other. l7

If there are not two freedoms but one, and that one results from the conjunction of reason and will, the will's freedom to act against intellect's judgment obviously cannot be a ruling concern. As Stadter observes, "In the doctrine of freedom in Bonaventure's commentary on the Sentences, no trace of the later controversy is found. illS The freedom of the will had yet to become an issue, and voluntarism as today's scholars tend to think of it had yet to emerge.

After 1277, discussions of human freedom began to focus more on free will and less on free decision. Wilham de la Marc attacked Aquinas for teaching that the will is not free, a doctrine William said was condemned by the Parisian articles. In fact, Aquinas never

r6. Ibid., q. 4: "Quidam enim senserunt, quod liberum arbitrium nomen est potentiae, quae se habet per modum universalis ad rationem et voluntatem, et comprehendit eas, sicut totum universale comprehendit partes. .. Sed istud supra [q. 3, ad 6] improbatut::~l est. Si enim nominaret potentiam universalem ad rationem et voluntatern, iam, cum ratio et voluntas sint duae potentiae rationales, iam essent in eis duae libertates, et duo libera arbitria essent in quolibet homine .... Sed quoniam diffidle est intelligere, qualiter ex duabus potentiis una constituatur, vel quomodo liberum arbitrium, loquendo formaliter et proprie, sit duae potentiae, maxime eumnon dieatur esse ratio et voluntas, sed facultas rationis et voluntatis: ideo est tertius modus dieendi, quod liberum arbitrium est nomen principaliter impositum habitui. Et hoc plane manifcstat ipsa nominis impositio. Arbitrium enim non dicit potentiam, sed habitum. Manifestat etiam ipsa notificatio. Non enirn dicitur liberum arbitrium esse potentiafacilis, sed facultas potentiarum. Quemadmodum autem, cum dico potentiam facilern, dico potentiam habilitatam, sic, eum dico facultatem potentiae, dico habitum eiusdem" (Quaraechi cd., 11, 601).

17. Ibid., q. 5: "Aliqua vero potentia faeilis est ad aliquem aetum per se ipsam, non tamen sola, sed cum alia; et sic potentia rationalis sine aliquo habitu superaddito ex sola coniunctione sui cum appetitu nata est in aetum consentiendi et eligendi exire. Et hoc modo habitus vel facultas non addit aliquid diversum secundum essentiam, nec addit solum secundum rationem intelligendi, sed medio modo addit, secundum esse, quia non addit aliquid absolutum, sed respectivum; sicutpatet: cum dico rationemper se et rationem assodatam sive adiunctam voluntati, non addo aliquid novum supra ipsam rationem secundum se, sed solum coniunctionem sui ad alteram, quantum ad aliquem consequentes actus" (Quaracchi ed., il, 603).

18. Stadter, psychologie und Metaphysik, 3.

VOLUNTARISM !O5

denied that the will is free. Yet he did speak of the will as a passive power, naturally constituted to be moved by the object apprehe~ded by intellect. He said, too, that the will always follows the final Judgment of reason, and that it necessarily wills those things the intellect judges essential to happiness. Finally, he said that freedom is rooted entirely in reason, and that the intellect is without qualification higher and nobler than the will."

In the eyes of William and like-minded masters, the denial of the willis freedom was easily deduced from these doctrines. If Aquinas had never expressly said that the will is not free, he had, at any rate} implied that. Libertas voluntatis thus became a kind of rallying cry for opponents of Thomism as well as opponents of radical Aristotelianism. Since the 1277 condemnation had touched some of Aquinas's teachings, voluntarists had an edge in debates with Aquinas's followers and allies. For good or ill, the freedom of the will had be

come an issue. That issue posed something of a problem for supporters of Aqui

nas, not only because of the condemnation, but also because Aquinas himself had written next to nothing about the freedom of the will. Like Bonaventure, he usually discussed freedom in terms of choice and free decision. He even argued that free decision, which is the power of choosing, belongs to the will rather than the intellect. On the other hand, Aquinas also taught that the will is moved to its choice by the intellect, that man is free because he has the capacity for rational deliberation, and that choice is formally an act of reason?O The problem for his followers was not that the master had advocated an extreme intellectualism: he surely had not. The problem was that he consistently treated freedom as the product of intellect and will working together. Freedom of decision was well co~ered in Aquinas's works} but the will's freedom in relation to the intellect was a rather different issue.

If the Correctorium frdtris Thomae had never been written, perhaps Thomists would have rested content with the traditional formulas. Free decision, a happy marriage between reason and will, might conceivably have remained the topic of debate. Yet the 1277

19. Gorrectorium fr. Thomae, a. 55 (Glorieux ed., 232); cf. Aquinas, ST I, q. 80, a. 2;

q. 82, aa. I, 3, 4; q. 83, a. I; I-I1ae, q. 13, a. r; q. 77, a. I; De veritate, q. 24, a. 2.

20. STIr q. 81, a. 4; q. 83, a .. 1; I-Hac, q. 13, a. I.

ro6 VOLUNTARISM

condemnation had focused on free will, and William de la Mare had charged Aquinas with heresy on that point. It was thus on the score of free will that Aquinas's followers had to defend his teachings. In the years following the condemnation, we accordingly find not only voluntarists but also their opponents discussing the will's freedom.

Among the first to grasp the nettle was John Quidort, author of one of the Dominican replies to William's COlrectorium. John was especially anxious to defend Aquinas's teachings on the will. Defend them he did, both in his own /{corrections" of William's Ifcorruptions

ll and in his commentary on the Sentences. Consider, for

example, what had become a highly sensitive question: whether the will can will and choose against reason's dictate. John begins by reporting two opinions. The first, which one manuscript dubs the opinio verior, is basically the opinion of Aquinas:

That the will can choose nothing against the judgment of reason, so that when reason proposes two actions and judges that one of them ought to be chosen, it is impossible for the will not to choose that and to will the opposite; and that the will can do nothing against the judgment of reason, because otherwise it would not be a rational appetite. For this reason people say that the will is not free in desiring except because reason is free in judging.21

John hastens to add that the will is not like animal appetite-a prudent clarification, considering the I2i7 articles. An animal's desire, he says, follows the apprehension of its senses. The human will, on the other hand, immediately follows the apprehension of intellect only if the intellect has finished deliberating. The intellect's judgment must also be firm if an act of will is to follow.22

21. Sent., IT, q. 5: "De ista quaestione dico, quod duplex est opinio. Una opinio dicit, quod voluntas nihil eligere potest contra rationis iudicium ita quod propositis duobus a ratione, quorum alterum iudicatur a ratione esse eligendum, impossibile est voluntatern illud non eligere et oppositum velle; et quod nihil potest voluntas contra iudicium rationis, quia aliter non esset appetitus rationalis. Unde dicunt, quod voluntas non est libera in appetendo, nisi quia ratio est libera in iudicando," in lean de Paris (Quidort), a.p., Commentairesur les Sentences: Reportation, LivrelI, ed. J.-P. Muller, Studia An.

selmiana 52 (r964), 176-77. LoWn (J/Libre arbitre," 300) dates this commentary to I.284-86. Muller (xxxiii) thinks John might have written it a bit earlier, perhaps even before his Correctorium. See also Le Correctoriwn corruptorii "Circa" de lean Quidort de Paris, ed. J.·P. Muller, Studia Anselmiana 12-13 (I941): 26 3££.

22. Sent., IT, q. 5 (SA LII, 177).

VOLUNTARISM

The second opinion John reports, which one manuscript calls the opinio falsa, is obviously the voluntarist position on free will:

That however great and firm be the judgment of reason that this thing should be chosen, nevertheless the will can, with its own freedom, choose the opposite, so that the will's freedom comes not from the free judgment of reason but from and on account of [the will] itself."

John says that he favors the first opinion because he understands it better. Indeed, the only way he seems able to explain the second opinion is by reducing it to the first:

If reason dictates that this thing be evil, and the will wills it, it chooses that thing either as apprehended [by the intellect] or as not apprehended. If it chooses it as not apprehended, then voluntary appetite does not differ from natural appetite. Therefore, it chooses it as apprehended-but not as apprehended under the concept of evil} because evil is not desirable [i.e., the will is unable to desire evil as such]. Therefore} the will chooses it under the concept of good. Now that concept is apprehended either by sense or by the intellect. It is not apprehended by sense, because then voluntary appetite will not differ from animal appetite. Hence, it is apprehended by the intellect. So if the will desires something evil, reason must be in error or lacking [some] knowledge .... 24

Given the propositio magistralis, John's conclusion is safe enough, and yet his reductio of the opposing position is not entirely

23. Ibid.: "Alia est opinio quae dicit, quod quantumcumque fuerit firmatum et sententiatum a ratione, quod hoc sit eligendum, voluntas tamen sua Hbertate potest oppositum eligere, ita quod suam libertatem non habet ex libero iudicio rationis, sed ex se et de se" (SA LIT, 177).

24. Ibid.: "Redeo ad primam opinionem, quia illam volo tenere, quia earn magis intelligo, et dico quod ratione sententiante quod est eligendum in actu et in particulari, impossibile est voluntatem e contrario eligere, sed de ncessitate fertur in electionem talis boni. Et hoc patet sic. Quia si ratio dictat hoc ese malum, et voluntas hoc velit, aut eligit illud ut apprehensum, vel ut non apprehensum. Si ut non apprehensum, non differt appetitus voluntarius ab appetitu naturali. Ergo eligit ut apprehensum. Sed non ut apprehensum sub ratione mali, quia malum non est appetibile, ergo sub ratione boni. Aut ergo sub ratione apprehensionis a sensu, aut ab intellectu. Non a sensu, quia non differet ab appetitu brutali. Ergo ab intellectu. Ergo, si appetat voluntas aliquid malum, oportet rationem errare vel nescientiam habere ... " (SA LII, 178-79).

roS VOLUNTARISM

fair. Voluntarists usually agreed that the will can choose only what is presented by the intellect, and presented by the intellect as somehow good. They differed from intellectualists partly as regards the will's control over that presentation. In particular, voluntarists claimed that the will can command the intellect to consider the goodness of some proposed action. Since everything can he seen as good in one way or another, and since the intellectfollows the will's commands, the intellect will find goodness where the will wills that it be found.

The willis control of the intellect will be taken up later, when we consider different accounts of moral weakness. The point here is simply that John sees no incompatibility between the will's being necessitated by the intellect and the will's being free. On the contrary, he claims that his own position safeguards the freedom of the will.2s John apparently believed that his own position was the same as Aquinas's. Yet Aquinas had not set out to explain the freedom of the will; he had tried to explain the freedom of the human being as a whole, and in doing so had placed more emphasis on rationality than on will.

In Godfrey of Fontaines' Quodlibet VIII (1292/931 we find another intellectualist defense of the willis freedom. According to Godfrey, the will can be necessitated by the intellect's judgment to choose a certain means to the end; but because the will itself sets the end about which the intellect deliberates, the wilPs choice can be deemed free:

In deliberating about what is to be willed for the sake of the end, and with the conclusion made and with such apprehension standing, the will is not able not to will that. Nevertheless, it might be said that the will wills freely and laudably and meritoriously notwithstanding its immutability, because even in willing this, the will itself is the cause of the willing insofar as the willing of the aforesaid end was the cause of deliberating about it, and so was also the cause of choosing it. From this it is evident in what way the freedom of the will in choosing the means to an end can be preserved, after the conclusion made by the deliberation of reason, without having to assert that the will can choose the opposite .... If the conclusion of the deliberative syllogism proceeding from a

25. Ibid. (SA LII, r80).

VOLUNTARISM ro9

good end is well deduced, the will chooses that conclusion, and with that judgment standing, it is unable not to choose that, though it wills not from absolute necessityl but from conditional necessity contingent on something else, namely [the willing of] the end.26

Here again we are less concerned with the position defended than with the need to address claims for the freedom of the will. Free will is the issue of the day, and in some way or other the will's freedom must be preserved. Whether Godfrey succeeds in preserving it, or whether he even seriously attempts to do so, hardly matters. What is significant is that he does not return to the traditional topic of free decision.

The same pattern is discernible in the works of two English Dominicans' Thomas of Sutton and Nicholas Trivet. In a question disputed around the end of the thirteenth century, Thomas argued for the same conditional necessity that Godfrey had. The problem such a view raised, at Oxford no less than at Paris, was quomodo salvari possit libertas voluntatis-in what way the freedom of the will can be preserved.27 A few years later Nicholas too tried to explain the freedom of the will. He held that the will's freedom in choosing derives from the intelleces freedom in deliberating and judging, so that freedom lies principally} virtually, and causally in reason. How, then, can the freedom of the will be preserved?

... While the judgment of reason stands, although the will is able not to will that, nevertheless it cannot will something else} because at that time nothing else can be apprehended by the intellect that determines the will to some act; for as the intellect apprehends

26. Quodl. VIII, q. r6: "Deliberando de eo quod est volendum propter finem, facta conclusione et stante tali apprehensione, voluntas non potest illud non velle; et tamen dicetur quod illud velit libere et laudabiliter et meritoric, non obstante taB immutabilitate voluntatis. Et hoc etiam quia volens hoc est sibi causa volendi hoc, in quantum volens praedictum finem fuit causa deliberandi de isto et sic etiam electionis eius. Ex his ergo patet quomodo salvari possit Hbertas voluntatis in eligendo id quod est ad finem post conclusionem factam per consilium rationis deliberantis, absque hoc non oporteat ponere quod possit eligere oppositum .... Si conclusio ergo syllogismi consiHativa procedentis ex fine bono bene deducatur, mud conclusum voluntas eliget, isto iudicio stante, non potens illud non eligere, licct non ncessitate absoluta illud velit, sed quasi conditionata et ex suppositione alterius, scilicet finis" (PB IV.I, r641. On the dating of Godlrey's quodlibets see Wippel, The Metaphysical Thought, xxi-xxx.

27· Lottin, "Libre arbitre," 349, 356.

IIO VQLUNTARISM

one object, as long as it actually judges that, it cannot make a judgment regarding something else. Hence, because the will cannot will something else except through the determination of the intellect, for that reason it is rightly said that the intellect moves the will as regards the determination of the act. In this consists the freedom of the will, that it is capable of different acts according to the different ways in which it can be determined by the judgment of the intellect, In this way the saints and doctors posit freedom in the will, not because it can act against the judgment of reason, but because it can be conformed to the judgment of reason as regards different things to be desired and avoided.28

These examples suggest that masters of an intellectualist bent, writing after 1277, were facing a set of issues that were never truly issues for Bonaventure or Aquinas. Somehow or other, the freedom of the will had to be explained.

Voluntarism in the Late Thirteenth Century

The 1277 condemnation and William de la Mare's Correctorimn may both help to explain the intellectualist-voluntarist controversies of the late thirteenth century. They do not explain why the freedom of the will became an issue in the first place. Christian thinkers had long argued that human beings must be free, that we must have liberum arbitrium. The basic reasoning was simple: If we are to be praised for virtue and blamed for vice, we must be master of our actsi and we cannot be master of our acts unless we have free decision. Versions of this argument can be found all the way from Augustine to Aquinas and Bonaventure. The principal aim was both to safeguard the agent from determination by external forces and

28. " . .. Stante iudicio tali rationis, quamvis voluntas possit non velle illud, non tamen potest'aliud, quia nihil aliud tunc potest apprehendi ab intellectu quod voluntatern detenninet ad alium actum, quia cum inteIlectus unius sit, quamdiu actu iudicat unum, non potest iudicare de alio, unde quia voluntas non potest in aliud nisi per determinationem intellectus, ideo bene dicitur quod intellectus movet voluntatem quoad determinationem actus. Et in hoc consistit libertas voluntatis et potest in diversa secundum quod diversimode potest determinari per iudicium intellectus: isto modo ponunt sancti et doctores libertatem in voluntate, et non ex hoc quod potest contra judicium rationis, sed quia potest confonnari iudicio rationis quoad divers appetenda vel fugienda" (Lottin, "Libre arbitre," 38r-82.

VOLUNTARISM III

to distinguish human beings, who can choose their actions, from animals, which were presumed to act on whatever their strongest fear or desire happened to be at the moment. The determination of the will by the intellect was not a major source of concern.

We have already seen one reason why the freedom o! the will could not have been a long-standing issue: libermn arbitrimn was regarded as a combination of reason and will or, in some cases, as a power in its own right. Worries about the will's freedom in relation to the intellect presuppose a well developed faculty psychology. Without that psychology, the controversies of the late thirteenth century are virtually incomprehensible. Augustine, for example, did not see the will as a rational or intellectual appetite; for him the will was the entire soul as active.29 Even Anselm, a favorite authority of late thirteenth-century voluntarists, would probably have found· the later controversies difficult to fathom. Anselm defines freedom of decision as the power of keeping rectitude of will for its own sake. That power, which includes both reason and will, is present even in human beings who are unable to will the good.30 Furthermore, Anselm does not distinguish between rational and irrational appetite, or between will and sense appetite. Although he does attribute two dispositions or affections to the will-the affection for justice and the affection for one's own well-being-he also describes the will as a kind of concupiscence or desire.31 Even with Anselm we are still some distance from the psychology of ethical voluntarism.

San Cristobal-Sebastian has argued that the voluntarist movement, which arose toward the end of the thirteenth century, was not an Augustinian movement. He finds that Augustine was sometimes cited in defense of the will's freedom, but Aristotle was cited as well, and the most frequently cited authorities were Anselm,

29. See, e.g., De trinitate, X. 30. De libertate arbitrii, c. 4 (Schmitt ed., I, 214)· 31. See, for example, De casu diaboli, c. 7 (Schmitt ed., I, 244-45). Only toward the

very end of his life did Anselm show any concern about internal compulsion or necessitation. Although he still insisted that human beings always have liberum arbitrium, he argued that it is otiosa without the affection for justice, without which the will is never free. See De concordia praescientiae et praedestinationis et gratiae Dei cum 1ibero arbitrio, III, c. 13 (Schmitt ed., il, 287).

II2 VOLUNTARISM

John Damascenc, and Bernard of Clairvaux. It was Bemard's writ~ ings, not Augustine's, that inspired the voluntarist movement that began in the I2708.32

These findings are entirely in accord with the literature of the pe~ riod. Aristotle is not the villain, nor is Augustine the hero of the voluntarist movement. Given Augustinels psychology and his conception of freedom, he would not have been an especially useful authority on the will's freedom in relation to the intellect. Augustine seldom even uses the expression 11 freedom of will," much less in the way that so-called If Augustiniansl/ of the late thirteenth century did.33 Anselm proved more useful an authority than Augustine, though his remarks were invariably distorted when later masters applied them to a rather different conception of the will. John Damascene was helpful on two counts. First, he made what was to become the standard scholastic distinction between rational and irrational appetite, or more specifically, between will, on the one hand, and the irascible and concupiscible appetites, on the other. Second, he popularized the distinction between will as natural appetite and will as rational appetite, which would later be read as a distinction between the will as nature and the will as free. 34

Of all the authorities for the freedom of the will, Bemard of Clairvaux was surely the most influential. In his treatise De gratia et libero arbitrio Bernard made three important claims: (I) Although the will can never act without reason, it can act against rea-

32· San Cristobal-Sebastian, 247-69. 33· A computerized search of Augustine's massive corpus finds "libertas volun

tatis" (with various case endings] used a total of fourteen times and limited to a mere six works: De dvitate Dei, Contra Faustum, Contra litteras Petiliani,' De correptione et gratia, De dono perseverentiae, and Contra Iulianum. (By libertas voluntatis he means the freedom to avoid sin with which Adam was created, as well as the higher freedom that makes the saints in heaven unable to sin.1 Although voluntas libera appears much more frequently thanlibertas voluntatis, by far Augustine's preferred topic is liberum arbitrium, so that voluntas libera often turns out to be shorthand for liberum arbitrium voluntatis.

34· De fide orthodoxa, IT, 30. Damilscene's conception of the will is discussed in Bourke, "Human Tendencies," 58-59; Will, 76-77. The doctrine of the two wills was probably appropriated by John Damascene from Maximus the Confessor. In its origins the doctrine was applied to Christ, who was thought to have two wills, just as He had two natures.

VOLUNTARISM II3

son's judgment.3s (2) Where the will is, there is freedorn.36 (3) If reason imposed any necessity on the will, the will would not be free, and where there is no freedom, there is no moral responsibility.37

Now what Bernard means by "will" is not what masters of the late thirteenth century mean. The scholastic conception of will as a rational or intellectual appetite, distinct from sense appetite, on the one hand, and intellect or reason, on the other, should not be read into Bernard's treatise. Nevertheless, his teachings do help to explain both the concerns and the assumptions of the voluntarist movement that arose in the 1270S. Moral responsibility was thought to require freedom of will, and freedom was thought to be incompatible with necessity, including the necessitation of the will by rational judgment. If we are to be held responsible for our actions, we must be able to act against what our own deliberation or judgment tells us to do.

These intuitions do not find comfortable accommodation in the framework of Aristotelian psychology and ethics. Aristotle's general account of action, given in De anima, stresses that appetite is a "moved mover." The object of desire functions as an unmoved mover. When apprehended by sense perception, imagination, or intellect, it moves the appetitive faculty (the moved mover), which in turn moves the body. Desires may conflict, but one or the other will

35. De gratia et libero arbitrio, IT, y "Pono voluntas est motus rationalis, et sensui praesidens, et appetitui. Habet sane, quocumquc se volvcrit, rationem semper comitem et quoddamodo pedissequam: non quod semper ex ratione, sed quod numquam absque ratione moveatur, ita ut multa faciat per ipsam contra ipsam, hoc est per eius quasi ministerium, contra eius consilium sive judicium" (Leclercq and Rochais ed., III, r68).

36. Ibid., IT, 2: "Form ubi voluntas, ibi libertas. Et hoc est quod dici puto liberum arbitrium" (Leclercq and Rochais ed., Ill, r67).

37. Ibid., 11, 4-5: "Est vera ratio data voluntati ut instruat illam, non destruat. Destrueret autem, si necessitatem ei ullam imponeret, quominus libere pro arbitrio sese volveret, sive in malum consentiens appetitui aut nequam spiritui, ut sit animalis non percipiens, vel certe et persequens ea quae sunt spiritus Dei, sive ad bonum gratiam sequens, et fiat spiritualis: quae omnia diiudicans, ipsa a nemine iudicetur. Si, inquam, horum quodlibet prohibente ratione, voluntas non posset, volWltas iam non essent. Ubi quippe necessitas, iam non voluntas .... Ceterum quod sui liberum non esse cognoscitur, quo pacto vel bonum ei vel malum imputatur? Excusatnempe utrumque necessitas. Porro ubi necessitas est, libertas non est; ubi Hbertas non est, nee meritum, ac per hoc nee iudicium, excepto sane per omnia originali peccato, quod aliam constat habere rationem" (Ledercq and Rochais ed., III, r68-691.

II4 VOLUNTARISM

always take precedence. Hence, it is always the appetitive faculty that produces action.3B

~ The more refined account, presented in Aristotle's Ethics, claims that the good appears in a form corresponding to the individual's moral character. Since character is itself acquired through self-controlled \ "voluntaryll) actions, and since such actions spring from the agenfs desires, character is both the product and the reflection of desires. The conception of the good that corresponds to one's character serves as the starting point of practical reasoning. The second step is a particular judgment concerning the facts of the situationin effect, a judgment about whether the apprehended object answers to one's own conception of the good. If it does, reason will conclude that the object should be pursued and, in the ordinary course of affairs, the agent will choose and act accordingly.39

The case of moral weakness (akrasia), where the agent acts against her choice (prohairesis), will be considered in chapter 4. Here it need only be said that Aristotle does not see akrasia as a case of the will's succumbing to temptation and acting weakly. The idea that all human actions spring from the rational or intellectual appe~ tite of will is a scholastic distortion of Aristotle, and a distortion of some significance, since it tended to make morally weak action more rational than it was in Aristotle's eyes. For Aristotle, morally weak action does not reflect the agent's conception of the good or her prohairesis, but it does reflect both her desire and her judgment of particulars, which together suffice to make the action blamewor~ thy. Moral responsibility for an action does not require that the ac~ tion be traceable to some executive power of will.

In all cases Aristotle posits a causal chain beginning with the ex~ temal object and ending in human action. He ascribes moral respon~ sibility when the chain runs through the agent in the appropriate way, that is, when the intermediate links are the agent's perception, reasoning, and desire (whether rational or irrational). This account naturally raised problems in the minds of Christian theologians. How could Aristotle explain Adam's sin, or the inclination to sin found even in Christians with God's gift of charity? How could Ar~ istotle account for radical changes in the opposite direction, from

38. De anima 433a9-IO, 23-26; 433bSff. 39· ENIII3a31-32, III4a33·b22, IIIObIO-IIIIb4, I147a25-3I.

VOLUNTARISM lIS

to virtue? He tends to describe the virtuous as morally infalli~ and the vicious as incurable. The virtuous are not prone to de~

generat:e into vice, nor do the vicious 1/ convert" to virtue. The de~ velo]J]]JLenLt of a vicious character, Aristotle remarks, is like the thlrm.irLg of a stone: at one point the person was able to throw it or

but once the stone is gone, it is too late to recover it (EN I I46aI7-I8). Because early education and training have such a de~ cisive influence on the development of moral character, Aristotle stresses the importance of upbringing and citizenship. Anyone who wishes to become virtuous would do well to be a citizen (free, Greek, and male) of a suitably well-organized community. But even within such a community, disadvantages of birth, including pov~ erty, slavery, and bad upbringing, can make the acquisition of virtue in its truest, fullest sense practically impossible.40

Certainly Aristotle's ethics and psychology can be reworked in a Christian framework. Few masters of the thirteenth century doubted that. The intellectualist-voluntarist debates can be seen as a controversy about how much reworking was necessary and ex~ actly where the revisions should be made. Voluntarists worried that if the will were determined to choose in accordance with reason's judgment of what is good, all wrongdoing would stem principally from ignorance or mistake, so that the appropriate response would be not punishment or blame but education. Hence one of the propo~ sitions condemned in I277: "That after a conclusion has been made about something to be done, the will does not remain freei and that punishments are provided by the law only for the correction of igno~ ranee and in order that the correction be a source of knowledge for others."

Voluntarists typically held that the will cannot act without rea-

40. Wanting to move without further ado to discussion of scholastic developments, I am raising a wide range of issues in Aristotle'S thought without discussing them or even clearly distinguishing between them. At least some should become clearer in chapters 4 and 5, where I discuss more specific problems of ethics and moral psychol~ ogy. Even there, however, my concern will (as usual) be less with Aristotle's teachings than with scholastic interpretations and modifications of them. Readers interested in an analysis of Aristotle's own views on some of the issues just raised may consult T. Irwin, "Reason and Responsibility in Aristotle, JI in Essays on Aristotle's Ethics, ed. A. Rorty (Berkeley, 1980), I17-55, and "Virtue, Praise and Success: Stoic Responses to

Aristotle/' Monist 73 (1990): 59-79·

II6 VOLUNTARISM

son. Granted, many thought their opponents' conception of will as rational or intellectual appetite deeply misguided: they tended to accept this standard characterization while changing, often radically, its meaning. But they did not argue that freedom requires the ability to act blindly, without anything at all in mind. D~bat~ hinged on whether we can will an act only if reason judges it to be good, and whether reason's judgment of the good determines the will to choose accordingly. If every act that we ~ill we judge to be good, must we judge it to be morally good, or merely good in one way or another? If every act that we will we judge to be morally good, is the will or the intellect the principal cause of misjudgment?

These are serious philosophical issues, and yet the debates about them are often marked by confusion and proceed at cross purposes. The voluntarist concern to safeguard freedom of will as a necessary condition of moral responsibility becomes entangled with concerns about causation and necessity. In effect, Aristotle's causal chain tends to be seen as a railroad track that merely happens to run through the human agent. Voluntarists want to install switches so that the train can be stopped or shunted off onto a sidetack, and they want those switches to be controlled by the will. If reason controls the switches-if the will can neither stop the train nor switch it to a different track once it has passed through reason's deliberation and judgment-then reason, much more than will, would seem to be responsible for any moral derailments.

Intellectualists and voluntarists often argue at cross purposes b~caus~ th~ se~mingly straightforward d~ba,~s about who do~s th~ switching reflect background assumptions about the division of labor, the layout of the tracks, the assignment of the trains, and how the railroad in general operates. Debates about whether the will can act against intellect's judgment, for example, usually mask deeper differences about what intellect's IIjudgment" amounts to and how it arrives at its judgment in the first place. In what follows I shall, for the most part, be trying to explain the voluntarists' perspective.

The Imperial Will as a Moved Mover

Is the will an essentially passive power, moved by the object of its desire? Or is the will essentially active, more a moving power

VQLUNTARISM II7

than a power moved? On this point Lottin finds a significant difference between the two great masters of the thirteenth century:

Freedom [according to St. Bonaventure] is defined by the power of domination that the will exercises over its object and the attainment of that object. Reason presents the object, but it is limited in its action over will, which is an essentially active faculty. For St. Thomas, on the contrary, the will is a passive power: not that it is unmoving, for it is essentially the source of action, but to begin functioning, this efficient cause requires an external movement, and this movement is no other than the action which the object exerts on it.41

Lottin adds that Bonaventure's view, which had 11 a great success among theologians," was reprised and emphasized by WaIter of Bruges.42

In Bonaventure's works we do indeed find the seeds of Waiter's voluntarism, but since WaIter is far more concerned than Bonaventure to stress the will's freedom in relation to the in'tellect, his arguments should be taken more as a reworking of the master's than as a repetition. Bonaventure teaches that freedom comes from the conjunction of reason and will: the will is free when it acts in accordance with reason. Waiter argues that freedom belongs to the will in its own right: liThe will is free neither because it is an appetite nor because it is rational, but because it is a will.1!43

Waiter does not expressly reject Bonaventure's view. He mentions it as a position that can in some sense be accepted. Yet his report of Bonaventure's position-that freedom is completed in the will and h~nce that fr~~dom com~s prop~rly and quasi-formally from the will itself-tends to distort the master's teachings. Nothing is said of free decision as a habit of reason and will, and Bonaventure's emphasis on the cooperation of reason and will in the act of choice is absent.44

When free will becomes the ruling concern, what becomes of free decision? For the most part} Waiter simply equates the two. Instead

AI. Lottin, "Libre arbitre," 235-36. 42. Ibid., 385.

43. Quaest. disp., q. 5, ad 5: "Sic et voluntas est libera, non quia appetitus, nee quia rationalis, sed quia voluntas; unde Gilbertus, Super Canticum, 38 serm.: 'Omnis voluntas, in eo quod voluntas est, libera est'" (PB X, 54).

44. Ibid., resp. (PB X, 52-53).

lIB VOLUNTARISM

of arguing for the equation, he takes it for granted-as if all the old arguments for free decision plainly went to prove the freedom of the will. In only one place does Waiter make the equation explicit, and even then he does so only in passing, alluding to lithe will, or free decision, which is the same,"45

Bernard is the leading authority, not only for the will as the source of its own freedom but also for the willis dominion over the intellect. It is Bernard who taught that the will has freedom in its own right, that the will is subject to no necessity, that the intellect is merely a sort of adviser to the will. In addition to Bernard's remark about lIthe native freedom of the will," WaIter cites one pithy line from Gilbert de la Porree: "Every will, in that it is a will, is free. 1146 But WaIter does not use these Christian authorities to argue, contrary to Aristotle, that the will is entirely active. The principles of Aristotle's psychology survive, albeit in such a form that Aris~ totle himself might fail to recognize them.

The best example is Aristotle's conception of appetite as a moved mover. On this theory, will, as intellectual appetite, would be both passive and active: passive insofar the will is moved by the appre~ hended object, active insofar as it, in turn, moves the body. In very broad outline, this is the account we find in Aquinas:

Insofar as the will is moved by the object, it is clear that it can be moved by something external. But insofar as it is moved to the execution of an act, it is still necessary to posit that the will is moved by some external principle .... The will moves itself insofar as through its willing of the end it brings itself to willing the means to the end. It cannot do this, however, except by means of deliber~ ation.47

45. Quaest. disp., q. 4, resp.: "Si autem secundum praefatam positionem ratio, ostendens voluntati appetibile bonum, necessitat illam ad illud volendum et per cousequens ad faciendum, si non habet impedimentum extrinsecum quod non impedit me

ritum, iam sine gratia poterit voluntas vel liberum arbitrium, quod idem est, ad bonum faciendum et merendum: quod est haereticum" (PB X, 39).

46. Ibid., q. 5, resp.: "Unde Bernardus, De gratia et libero arbitIio [cap. 2]: 'Sola voluntas est quod pro sua ingenita libertate nulla potest cogi necessitate'; et Gilbertus, Super Canticum [Canticorum, cap. 391: 'Omnis vohmtas, in eo quod voluntas, est libera' ... " (PBX, 52). For other citations of Gilbert see ibid., ad 5 (PBX, 54); q. 8 (PBX, 74).

47. STI-nae, q. 9, a. 4, corp.: "Respondeo dicendum, quod secundum quod voluntas movetur ab objecto, manifestum est, quod moveri potest ab aliquo exteriori: sed eo modo, quo movetur quantum ad exercitium actus, adhuc necesse est ponere volunta-

VOLUNTARISM lI9

The last remark represents Thomas's effort to explain how Anselm and others might have grounds for calling the will a "self-moving instrument." Aquinas stresses, however, that the will does not move itself directlYi it moves itself only by way of the intellect's deliberation. Although the will has the freedom to act or not, the intellect determines whether the action is understood in one way or another. As the object of the intellect is truth, so the object of the will is the good: we always will sub ratione bani. Aquinas accord~ ingly describes intellect as moving the will by the presentation of the object.48

Waiter agrees that the will is a moved mover49 but rejects the Thomistic view of how the will is moved. On his account, the intel~ lect moves the will as a counselor moves the pope, the emperor, or the king-not as an efficient cause, not as a greater power that im~ pels or necessitates, but by persuasion, by presenting the good. 50

The will is no more bound to act in accordance with intellect's judg~ ment than a human sovereign is bound to follow a counselor's ad-

tem ab aliquo principio exteriori moveri .... Ipsa movet seipsam, inquantum per hoc quod vult finem, reducit seipsam ad volendum ea quae sunt ad finem: hoc autem non potest facere, nisi consilio mediante."

48. ST I-nae, q. 9,- a. I, ad 3: "Ad tertium dicendum, quod voluntas movet intellectum quantum ad exercitium actus: quia et ipsum verum, quod est perfectio inte!lectus, continetur sub universali bono, ut quoddam bonum particulare: sed quantum ad determinationem actus, quae est ex parte obiecti, intellectus movet voluntatem, quia et ipsum bonum apprehenditur secundum quamdam specialem rationem comprehensam sub universali ratione veri; et sic patet, quod non est idem movens, et motum secundum idem."

49. See, for example, Quaest. disp., q. 3, ad IQ: 11 Ad decimumdicendum quod voluntas activa non tantum, sed passiva; movetur autem ab appedbili intellecto, ut habetur ill De Anima, et ideo est movens motun, ut ibidem habetur" (PB X, 3 I).

50. See, for example, Quaest. disp., q. 6, ad 5: "Ad quintum dic quod movere est dupliciter, scilicet per modum consulentis et per modum impellentis, ut auctoritatem habentis. Hoc secundum movere est nobilius quam primum, moveri vero a consulente non est ignobilitatis, ut patet in Papa et Imperatore, qui habent consiliarios. Sic et voluntas habet moveri per rationem ut consiliaram nec ut auctoritatem habentem supra ipsam" (PB X, 60); ibid., ad 2: 11 Ad secundum dic quod aliquid dicitur praecipere dupliciter, scilicet ut agens vel ut finem desideratum ostendens. Prima modo praecipit vel imperat voluntas, secundo modo intellectus, ratio, prudentia et omne intellectivum in

. eo quod huiusmodi; sed hoc non est proprie praeciperc, quia praecipere vel imperare est per se moverc, intellectus non movet de se quia intellectus, sed quia ostendit bonum desideratum. Sic et servus possct dupliciter praecipere domino et visus appetitui et omnis inferior superioriJ

' (PB X, 60).

I20 VQLUNTARISM

vice. The intellect, however, is constrained in judging by the rules of law, whether human or divine. Even when a judgment has been made, the intellect remains subject to the command of the will. It may thus be moved to a decision quite different from its previou's judgment.5I

Although much of Waiter's discussion appears to be aimed at Aquinas, Aquinas is hardly an extreme intellectualist. In the first place, he teaches that the will always remains free to will or not. If it cannot act against the final judgment of the intellect, the option of inaction still remains. Second, Aquinas holds that the final judgment of reason is not reached without the will's consent.52 While his conception of consent is not entirely clear, he apparently wants to allow for some contribution by the will to the final judgment about what should be done. The will cannot specify or determine the judgment, but it can at least veto various means presented by intellect as suitable to the end.

Waiter does not allow that a judgment could ever be final in the Thomistic sense. He insists that the will has more than the power to veto an action that the intellect dictates should be done. The will can command the intellect to consider the act in some other light, under some other conception of the good. In such a case it seems that the will could indirectly specify its own act. It could determine, say, whether eating the sandwich a colleague has placed in the office refrigerator is regarded as theft or as the satisfaction of hunger.

Do WaIter's teachings differ significantly from Thomas's? Lottin claims that Aquinas originally understood intellect'S presentation

SI. Quaest. disp., q. 5: "Aliquid dicitur non liberum vel quia COgitill, ut corpus aliquod a suo motu impeditum, secundo quia alii colligatur, ut vires sensitivae organis corporalibus et ideo quando patiuntur organa et ipsae vires sensitivae patiunturj tertio quia necessitate legis alicuius vel regulis veritatis astringitill, ut ratio vel intellectus regulis primorum principiorum astringitur necessario ad talem conclusionem intelligendam, et necessitate legis divinae vel humanae ad iudicandum hoc faciendum et illud vitandum. Primis duobus modis ratio est sicut voluntas, quia neutra harum est corpus nec corporali organo alHgata; sed tertio modo sola voluntas est libera prout est deliberativa, quia non est circa verum, sed circa bonum pro suo libito, nulla necessitate sibi indicta ... " (PB X, 51). WaIter's distinction betweeniudicium and arbitrium will be discussed below, in chapter 4.

52. ST I-ilae, q. 10, a. 2; q. IS, aa. 3-4. For interesting comparisons between Aquinas's and Siger's teachings on the will see C. Ryan, "Man's Free Will in the Works of Siger of Brabant," Mediaeval Studies 45 (1983): 155-59.

VOLUNTARISM UI

of the object as the final cause of volition; later, in De malo VI and the Prima secundae, he reduced the causality exercised by the intel~ lect on the will to formal causality-to a simple presentation of the object. Aquinas thus moved closer to voluntarism during the course of his career and, in Lottin's opinion, ended by adopting a position virtually the same as Walter's.53 Macken argues that Lottin misrepresents Aquinas's account of formal causality, that even in his later writings Aquinas did not defend a voluntarist conception of the will, and that voluntarists objected to the formal cause-material cause schema in any case: they thought it made the will too passive.54

The present study tends to confirm Macken's findings. Waiter, for example, does not dispute the thesis that the intellect's presentation of the object moves the will as a final cause. He accepts that doctrine because he does not associate final causality with efficient causality, necessity, or determination. The way in which a final cause "moves" seems to be merely metaphorical. As a counselor's advice might "move" a superior to act, so the intellect "moves" the will per modum finis. On the other hand, Waiter takes issue with the claim that the intellect moves the will by presenting the object. Granted, the object moves the will efficiently, but according to Waiter, the object's power to move the will derives not from the intellect but rather from the goodness of the object.s5 It is the desire for some good that explains why the will acts in one way or another. So, if I eat my colleague's sandwich, it is because I choose to satisfy my hunger, because the satiation of hunger is a good that I will, not because I mistake the sandwich for my own or judge stealing to be good. While the will relies on the intellect to present the sandwich as a means of satisfying hunger, it is the will that explains why the

53. Lottin, "Libre arbitre," 253-62, 384-86, esp. 26o-6In4· 54. Macken, "La volonte," 43-44. The claim that Aquinas's understanding of the

relationship between intellect and will changed substantially during the course of his career is likewise rejected in D. Gallagher, "Thomas Aquinas on the Causes of Human Choice" (Ph.D. diss., The Catholic University of America, (989): 193-207.

55. Quaest. disp., q. 6, ad 18: "Ad illud vera quod dicit quod intellectus movet duobus modis, dic quod falsum est, immo tantum movet per modum finis. Quod vero obiectum voluntatis movet agendo in voluntate non habet ab intellectu, sed a ratione bonitatis, scilicet quia bonum vel apparens bonum; quod patet quia movet per modum efficientis, intellectus vera movet per modum finis, scilicet consulens voluntati ut se inclinet in bonum apprehensum ut in finem SUUfli, quia voluntas est finis, ill Eth

icorum" (PB X, 66). See also ibid., q. 5, ad 3 (PB X, 53)·

I22 VQLUNTARISM

intellect presents the object in that light rather than as the property of another.

A thoroughgoing intellectualist might argue that I choose to eat the sandwich because I understand eating it to be good. WaIter would reply that I understand eating it to be good because Iwill to satisfy my hunger. Nowhere does he claim that the will can choose without intellect's presentation of th.e object as somehow good. 56

Debate centers on whether misunderstanding of the good is caused more by intellect or by will, with Waiter defending the will's causal primacy in order to ensure that wrongdoing is not attributed to ignorance. To explain his position he proposes a simile that other voluntarists will repeat and embellish. The intellect leads insofar as it directs and illuminates, even as one who carries a lampi the will leads as one who moves and commands others. In Hemy of Ghent's Quodlibet I, we find a more detailed and problematic version of the same simile. The intellect directs the will as a servant with a lamp guides his lord during the night. The servant goes ahead, directing the light so that his lord will not stumble. Yet the lord can withdraw from his servant's direction, even as the will, when it wills, can withdraw from the direction of the intellect." Richard of Middleton and Duns Scotus also use the lord and his lamp bearer in attempting to explain the relations between will and intellect.

Formal and material causes have no real place in Waiter's expla~ nation of how the will is moved. Though the intellect is said to move the will per modum finis, what role it might play as an efficient cause of the will's choice remains obscure. Nevertheless, hu~ man action is impossible without the contributions of both will and intellect: the will cannot choose without reason's presentation of

56. See, e.g., Quaest. msp., q. 6, ad 14 (PB X, 64-65).

57· QUaest. disp., q. 6, ad I: JI Ad primum in contrarium dic quod in ratione est discretio per modum iudicantis vel consulentis, sed in voluntate Per modum facientis. Intellectus vera dux animae dicitur in quantum est dirigens vel illuminans alios: ducit enim qui diIigit vel lumen portant, sed voluntas est dux peI modum moventis et imperantis" (PB X, 61-62); cf. Henry of Ghent, Quodl. I, q. 14, ad 5: "Ad quintum, quod dirigens superius est directo, dicendum quod dirigens auctoritate, sicut dominus servum: ille est superior: sic voluntas diriget intellectum; vel ministerialiter, sicut scrvus dominum, praeferendo lucernam de nocte ne dominus offendat: tale dirigens est inferius et sic intellectus dirigit voluntatem, unde a dirigendo et intelligendo potest ipsum voluntas retrahere quando vult, sicut dominus servllm" (Macken ed., V,. 90).

VOLUNTARISM I23

the object as good. Waiter argnes that the need of intellect and will for each other does not result from an equality of power in which the power of each is insufficient, so that neither can act on its own. It results rather from 11 a necessary order to a common end," as a king cannot win a battle without the aid of his army, nor can an army win a battle without the command of its king. So, too, WaIter suggests, do intellect and will have a mutual need and necessary order in producing human action.58 The superior role is plainly the will's, but does this mean that the intellect contributes nothing to the efficient causation of the will's choice? WaIter's discussion provides no clear answer.

William de la Mare gives an account of the will's freedom quite similar to Waiter's. We find in the Correctorium the same heavy emphasis on the will's superiority to the intellect, combined with the same concerns about moral responsibility. Once again the idea that responsibility for wrongdoing hinges on the will, that sin is imputed more to the will than the intellect, provides grounds for declaring the will superior to the intellect and the more principal cause of vicious actions. 59

William also follows Walter in denying that the will derives its freedom from the intellect. As always, he begins his argnment by

58. Quaest. disp., q. 6, ad r9: "Ad decimum nonum dic quod voluntas habet praecellentiam '~implicter respectu intellectus, non obstante quod non potest velle sine intelligere, sicut rexhabet praecellentiam respectu subditorum, licet non possit alium vincere regem sine auxilio subditorum. Et ideo dic quod 'aliqua aequaliter se mutua indigere' potest esse dupliciter: vel propter aequalitatem potestatis in utroque insufficientis, ut patet in sensu et organo, quorum neutrum potest sentire sine alio, vel propter ordinem necessarium ad finem communem cuius tamen cura spectat plus ad unum illorum, scilicet digniorem, sicut dux vel rex et exercitus indigent se mutua quasi aequaliter ut obtineant victoriam. Rex enim indiget exercitu ut sibi ad hoc subserviente, exercitus autem rege ut gubernatore et imperatore, et ideo rex habet praecellentiam respectu exercitus et imperium. Sic etiam est in proposito, quia voluntas indiget intellectu ut sibi serviente et consulente, sicut rex consiliariis; intellectus vew indiget voluntate, ut imperante, ut sua auctoritate determinante quomodo intellectus et de quibus consulere et investigare debet" (PB X, 66).

59. See, for example, Correctorium fr. Thomae, a. 34: "Praeterea quando multi conveniunt et cooperantur sibi in perpetratione alicuius maleficii, ille cui magis imputatur, reputatur magis principalis; et e converso, qui reputatur principalis, illi magis implltaturj unde et principalius trahitur in causa. Sed omne peccatum maxime imputatur voluntati; ergo voluntas est principalior etiam in peccato quam intellectus" (Glorieux

ed., r63J.

124 VOLUNTARISM

reciting Aquinas's opinion-in this case, that while the will is the root of freedom, reason is its causei that the will can freely be led to various objects because reason can have various conceptions of the good. William himself holds that freedom is from a natural property of the will, a position he supports with the same citations Waiter does.

60 The notion that freedom requires deliberation about com

peting conceptions of the good is, in WiUiam's eyes, thoroughly pernicious:

It seems to suggest that if reason does not propose several desirable objects to the will} but only onc, the will would necessarily be moved to that, just as the sense appetite would. This has been shown to be false as much in good men as in bad, who arc moved to act immediately upon the apprehension of a single desirable object, and this freely, otherwise the good would not be deserving or the evil undeserving.61

Aquinas might agree that an action need not be preceded by actual deliberation for it to be free. It is enough that SOmeone have the capacity to deliberate, and that her character, which inclines her to choose certain actions, was itself formed through exercise of that capacity. Would William find this explanation acceptable? It seems unlikely, for on his account, freedom belongs to the will in its own right: its source cannot lie in anything external to the will. As the will's freedom cannot derive from the capacity for rational deliberation, neither can intellect'S deliberation cause an act of will.

60. Correctorium fr. Thomae, a. 58 (Glorieux cd., 237); cf. ST Hlae, q. 17, a. I, ad 2. There is a striking resemblance between William's citations of authorities on the freedom of the will and the citations in WaIter's disputed questions. Compare, for example, Correctonum, a. 56 (233-34) with Quaest. lisp., q. 6 (PB X, 59-60), and Correctonum, a. 58 (237) with QUaest. disp., q. 5 (PB X, 48, 50, 52).

61. Correctorium fr· Thomae, a. 58: "Insinuare videtur quod si ratio non proponat voluntati plura appetihilia sed unam solum, quod voluntas necessaria feretur in illud sicut appetitus sensibilis. Hoc manstratum est esse falsum tam in bonis quam in malis qui statim ad unius appetibilis apprehensionem moventur ad actum et hac libere; alioquin nee boni mererentur nee mali de~ererenturll (Glorieux ed., 238-39). Sce also a. 54: "Ex hoc enim sequitur quod homo non facit libere ea quae facit sine deliberatione; quod patet esse falsissimum tam in bonis et pcrfectis hominibus quam in pessimis. Manifeste enim videmus quod viri sancti et perfecti, in saeculo sive in religione, cum intellexerint aliquod bonum mox appetunt, et cum appetierint. mox frequenter faciunt absque deliberatione .. . /1 (23 0 ).

VOLUNTARISM 12 5

Despite his strong emphasis on the will's freedom, William does not make the will a completely active power. Like WaIter, he is not prepared to discard the conception of the will as a moved mover. It may seem strange that in the onc article where William explicitly endorses the moved mover formula, he is attempting to separate his views from Aquinas's. The remark to which he objects is that the will is the first mover (primum movens) among the powers of the soul to the execution of an act. William replies:

It seems to me that this can be understood well or ill. If it means that the will is the first of those things necessary for movement, or that it is the first thing moving [a man] to the execution of an act, in both cases it is false, since according to the philosophers and the saints who discuss this matter, the first, unmoved mover is the object of desire. Moreover, the object and the power apprehending the object are necessary before the will moves. Indeed, the will does not move unless it is moved by the apprehension of the object of desire. Hence, it is impossible that the will be the first mover.

If, however, this means that among the powers of the soul, the first motive power or power mOVing is the will, I say that is true. The object, which is the first mover, is not a power of the soul. And the power of apprehension, although it is necessary to movement before the will is, nevertheless does not move first, nor is it called a motive power; but will or appetite moves first. In truth, the order is this: first, the good object moves the power of apprehension by the movement of apprehension; then the object so apprehended moves appetite or will. Hence, that which moves the will is not reason itself or reason's apprehension, but rather the good apprehended by reason. Thereafter, the will so moved by the apprehended object of desire moves the other powers and the [bodily] organs or the whole animal to the execution of the act.62

62. Correctorium fr. Thomae, a. 57: "Videtur mihi quod hoc bene vel male possit intelligi. Si enim intelHgat quod primum earum quae sunt necessaria ad movendum sive intelligat quod primum movens ad exercitium actus est voluntas, utrumque falswn est quia secundum philosaphos et sanctos qui in hac materia loquuntur, primum movens non motum est obiectum appetibile. Praeterea, prius necessaria sunt obiectum, et vis apprehensiva obiecti, et eius apprehensio quam voluntas movcat; ipsa enim non movet nisi mata ab apprehenso appetibili, unde impossibile est quod voluntas sit primum movens. Si autem intelligat quod inter vires animae prima motiva sive prima virtus movendi est voluntas sic dico quod verum dicit. Obiectum enim quod est primum movens non est virtus animae, et virtus apprehensiva quamvis prius sit necessaria ad motum quam voluntas, non tamen prius movet nee dicitur virtus motiva, sed

I26 VOLUNTARISM

On first reading, William's analysis might look like Thomas's, for both expressly deny that the will is the first mover in the causal chain envisioned by Aristotle. The resemblance between William's account and the basic Aristotelian theory of action is noted by Stadter, who finds William's acceptance of the moved mover formula inexplicable:

One is quite surprised that William adopts Aristotle's metaphysical teachings on the will. The will is a power that is active and passive. It is moved through the apprehended good, and/ having been set in motion in this way, it moves the other powers. This means that the will is a moved mover. The acceptance of this doctrine is all the more amazing as it was an especial stumbling block in the Franciscan school, and in part was vehemently opposed. William does not seem to see that this sort of view of the will is hardly compatible with the voluntarist conception that he usually advocates. 63

William, of course, does not adopt Aristotle's metaphysical teachings on the will. Virtually no theologian of the period, including Aquinas, adopted the moved-mover account without substantial revisions. Just the idea that all human action must be traceable to the will was a substantial revision. Voluntarists typically broke Aristotle's causal chain at two points, arguing that the will must act to reconnect it or the act suggested by reason would not be executed. First, the will must choose in accordance with the intellect's judgment. It is not necessary that it do so, for the will always remains free not to will, or even to oppose intellect's judgment. Second, if the will does choose the act that intellect dictates; it must then command the body to move accordingly. Without that command, the process will terminate internally: no observable action will occur.

Whether attributed more to will or to reason,-the very act of command brings us well beyond Aristotle's theory into medieval psy-

voluntas movet prius, sive appetitus. Hie enim est ordo: primo enim obieetum bonum movet vim apprehensivam motu apprehensionis; deinde obiectum sic apprehensum movet appetitum sive voluntatem. Unde illud quod movet voluntatem non est ipsa ratio vel eius apprehensio sed bonum apprehensum a ratione. Deinde voluntas sic mota ab appetihili apprehenso movet alias virtutes et organa, sive totum animal, ad exercitium actus" (Glorieux ed., 236).

63. Stadter, Psychologie und Metaphysik, 24r-42 (translation mine).

VOLUNTARISM I27

chology. Nothing in Aristotle's psychology could conceivably be understood as the act of command. While human beings do what they desire to do, desire is itself correlative with s?me bodily change. Soul and body are one in a significant sense. They cannot be separated, and activities of soul are, with but one exception, also activities of body. As one Aristotle scholar observes, lilt is not that desire as a purely mental function moves the purely physical body, but rather that desire can move the body through being itself a physiological phenomenon.,,64

The medieval outlook is rather different. Even for Aquinas, who follows Aristotle in making the rational soul the form of the body, the soul is never as firmly linked to the body as it is in Aristotle's philosophy. How could it be if the soul is to survive after the body's death? The belief that the soul must command the body to move is just one point of difference between Aristotle and medieval" Aristo

telianism." The differences between Aristotle and Aquinas are significant, for

we are dealing with the Correctorium jratris Thomae, not the Correctorium Aristotelis. Since William discusses only those areas where he deems Aquinas in need of correction, he must see something _wrong with Aquinas's contention that the will is the first mOver among the powers of the soul. The question, then, is how William's account differs from Thomas's.

There are two points of disagreement. First, William follows WaIter in stressing that neither reason nor reason's apprehension moves the will; rather, the willis moved by the apprehended good. Second, he insists that the will moves the body to the execution of an act. As we know, the first point is a rejection of Aquinas's claim that the intellect moves the will by presenting the object. William repeatedly denies that the intellect can 'determine the will. He even suggests that the will can move the body contrary to reason's judgment while that judgment stands, that the will can sin in willing and choosing without any error of reason.65 Intellect'S presentation

64. T. Ando, Aristotle's Theory of Practical Cognition (Kyoto, r958), r6r. 65. Correctorium fr. Thomae, a. 82: "Praeterea quilibet potest expeririin scipso quod

ratione dictante vere aliquid essepeccatum, ut fomicari vel aliquid aliud, tamen voluntas durante ipso iudicio potest movere corpus ad peceatum et committere peccatum. Si dicas quod nonnisi ratio inducta per imperium voluntatis iudicet illud faciendum, sic magis prius fuit perversum imperium in voluntate quam malum iudicium in ratione"

I28 VOLUNTARISM

of the object is indeed a necessary condition for volition, but no more. According to William, it is merely a cause sine qua non.66

While there arc considerable difficulties with this account, the main point seems clear enough. William thinks that if "reason itself or reason's apprehension ll moved the will, sin would lie more in the ignorance of the intellect than in the perversity of the will. William himself holds, as Waiter does, that an object is apprehended as good because the will wills it, not vice versa. He accordingly argues that the presentation of the object by the intellect is merely a cause sine qua non of action by the will. In the tradition of Bemard, intellect· is made the handmaid of the will. William retains the moved mover formula, but, like Waiter, he places a thoroughly voluntarist interpretation on Aristotle's words.

The second point on which William opposes Aquinas becomes evident when one examines the disputed thesis in its original context. All William cites is the first line. The entire passage from Aquinas is as follows:

Among the powers of the soul, the first mover to the execution of an act is the will, as was said. Since a secondary mover does not move except in virtue of the first, the fact that reason moves by commanding derives from the power of the will. Hence, it follows that command is an act of reason presupposing an act of will, in virtue of which reason moves [the body] through its command to the execution of an act. 67

If Thomas makes command an act of reason presupposing an act of will, he makes it an act of reason nonetheless. He accordingly holds that reason moves the body to the execution of an act. Wilham disagrees. In the preceding article he has already argoed that

(Glorieux ed., 3P). What William means by the will's ability to act against the judgment of reason while that judgment stands will be discussed below, in chapter 4.

66. Ibid., a. 59: "Quod enim voluntas distincte appetit hoc ab illo [read: vel illud], sive bonum, sive malum, hoc habet a ministrante et apprehendente ratione ita quod ostensio rationis intelligaturdistinctiva causa sine quanon solum" (Glorieux ed., 242).

67· ST I-IIae, q. Il, a. r: "Primum autem movens in viribus animae ad exercitium actus, est voluntas, ut supra dictum est [in q. 9, a. I]. Cum ergo secundum movens non moveat nisi in virtute primi moventis, sequitur quod hoc ipsum quod ratio movet imperando, sit ei ex virtute voluntatis; unde relinquitur quod imperare sit actus rationls, praesupposito actu voluntatis, in cuius virtute ratio movet pcr imperium ad exercitium actus."

VOLUNTARISM I29

command is an act of will. In his analysis of the will's status as first mover, he simply restates his position in other terms: it is will, not reason, that moves lithe organs or the whole animal" to execute an

act. . With both Waiter of Bruges and William de la Mare voluntarism

advances within a broadly Aristotelian framework. Both accept Aristotle's authority; both claim Aristotle'S support for their conceptions of free will; and both admit some sense in which the will is passive. Of course, in both thinkers the emphasis is clearly on the active character of the will. The passivity of the will is deemphasized almost to the vanishing point. The groundwork has been laid for the claim that the will is entirely active; yet neither William nor WaIter actually makes that claim. To find it we turn to the writings of Peter Olivi.

Freedom as Total Activity

Some have stressed the forward-looking aspects of Peter Olivi's teachings on the will-and with good cause, for Olivi does seem to have influenced the thought of Duns Scotus. Stadter is so persuaded of the connection that he devotes thirty pages to presenting what he takes to be parallel passages.68 The cumulative effect is at once impressive and misleading, not only because Scotus rejected some of Olivi's central theses but also because Olivi saw himself as repudiating innovations in favor of tradition. In his eyes, the worst of those innovations was Aristotelianism in all its sundry manifestations.

Walter of Bruges and William de la Mare tried to make Aristotle's theory of action accommodate some of Bernard's ideas about freedom, will, and reason. While their writings show a consistent con~ cem to safeguard moral responsibility against the perceived threat of cognitive determinism, they also leave the causal contribution of the intellect to human choice disturbingly vague. Olivi preserves many of his predecessors' views on the freedom of the will but abandons the effort to reconcile those views with Aristotle's teachings.

68. Stadter, Psychologie und Metaphysik, 287-316. See also F. Simoncioli, n problema della libertd umana in Pietro di Giovanni Olivi e Pietro de Trabibus (Milan,

195 6),50--54.

I30 VQLUNTARISM

To his mind, a Christian can cling to the truth or to Aristotle, but not both.

Olivi finds Aristotle's psychology pernicious because it allows no place for free will. This error he believes most evident in Aristotle's Ethics. There Aristotle says that when the intellect actually affirms as a universal principle that some kind of act should not be done and when it also affirms that a particular act is of such a kind: lIavoidance or rejection of that evil [act] necessarily follows in the will, just as the conclusion necessarily follows from two premises related syllogistically." What does this imply? According to Olivi, it means that the will fI is necessarily caused to alter in its acts according to changes in opinion or apprehension, so that the will does not have freedom in its own right. 11 In sum, Aristotle seems to hold that the will is a passive power, unable to move unless moved by something else-a proposition Olivi deems heretica1.69

In his Ethics Aristotle also makes the object of choice that which has been judged and determined by deliberation. The will's ability to choose opposite acts thus derives solely from the intellect, and the will is determined to choose by intellect's deliberation. While Olivi concedes that the will can choose an act only if intellect reveals something useful or desirable in it, he denies that the intellect determines the will to choose. On his view, opposite acts can be simultaneously desirable and capable of being chosen, though not in the same way or for the same reason. By the same token, a single act can be desirable in one respect and undesirable in another. For example, when regarded simply as ignoble (or immoral: inhonestusL the act of fornication could not be chosen, but when regarded as a pleasure of the senses, one certainly could choose it, A person can regard the act in both ways at the same time without holding contradictory propositions, for one does not judge the act both pleasant and unpleasant, or both noble and ignoble: one judges it both pleasant and ignoble. ,0

We may take this analysis as a clearer formulation, or at least a

69· Quaest. in 11 Sent., q. 57, ad 13 nansen ed., Il, 356). Of the twelve citations of Aristotle in the opening arguments of q. 57, eight are from the Ethics, two from the Metaphysics, one from De anima, and one from De caelo.

70. Quaest. in II Sent., q. 57, ad IS: "Ad decimum quintum dicendum quod si nomine consilii intelligatur consideratio cuiuscunque utiHtatis et appetibilitatis in re eH

genda: sic bene eoncedo quod voluntas non potest exire in aetum election is, nisi intel-

VOLUNTARISM I3 I

natural extension, of arguments already presented by WaIter and William. Olivi's confreres, however, emphasize that the will is moved by its desire for some good. Olivi drops the insistent emphasis on the good as what moves the will, not only because he dislikes the conception of the will as a moved mover but also, perhaps, because "the good" is too easily interpreted as a perceived moral good.'

Although Olivi follows William in arguing that we choose many things without previous deliberation and inquiry, William directed the criticism at Aquinas; Olivi directs it at Aristotle. 71 Olivi recognizes quite clearly that Aristotle did not defend the freedom of the will. His critcisms are unfair only insofar as he attributes a doctrine of the will to Aristotle in the first place. Since Aristotle had nothing approximating the scholastic conception of the will, he cannot properly be read as denying the will's freedom. He neither defended it nor denied it: he never discussed it.

WaIter and William cited Metaphysics IX in arguing that the will's freedom does not derive from the intellect's freedom of judgment. They cited Bernard in arguing that the intellect is the will's servant. Olivi argues that the intellect never moves or reverses itself; rather, the will moves the intellect, and what freedom the intellect has in considering an object it owes to the will. The intellect does not judge freely, does not think of one thing rather than another, unless the will moves it to do so. To have freedom of judgment, then, is to have the power of will to move the intellect. n

lectus sibi ostendat vere vel aestimative aliquam utiHtatem seu appetibilitatem in re eligenda. Si autem tunc dicatur quod simul non potest sibi ostendere de eodem quod

simul sit appetibile vel non appetibile, nee ostendendo illud esse appetibile seu eligibile

potest simul cum hoc ostendere sibi alterum oppositum esse appetibile aut eligibile,

turn quia non potest simul intelligere aut opinari contraria esse vera, turn eodem nunc ire in quodcunque oppositorum, nisi intellectus in utroque simul ostendat aliquam

eligibilitatem aut nisi de eodem obiecto simul ostendat quod est eligible et etiam fugi

endum et dicendum quod contraria secundum diversas rationes et diversos modos et

vias utilitatis et bonitatis ac deleetabilitatis possint simul esse voluntati nostrae appetibilia et eligibilia, et idem secundum diversas rationes possit esse appetihile et odibile,

ut actus fornicationis secundum hoc quod inhonestus, est odibilis, secundum hoc aut

quod est sensui delectabilis, est appetibilis et eligibilis: patet quod .haec simul intelli

gere aut opinari non est opinari contraria esse simul vera, cum non sint de eodem se

cundumidem et ad idem" (Jansen ed., il, 356-57).

71. Ibid. {Jansen ed., il, 358). 72. Quaest. in 11 Sent., q. 57, resp.: "Nulla autem virtus potest se ipsam movere nee

ad se nee ad alia, nisi- habeat dominium super se .... Dominium autem nee in se nee

132 VQLUNTARISM

WaIter, remember, argued that the intellect is bound by rules in reaching a judgment, though the will can command it to decide'differently. Olivils discussion raises a conceptual question about what freedom of judgment signifies. Would we consider intellect without will to be free in judging? Were he acquainted with computers and robots, Olivi would surely seize on them as examples of how reasoning cannot produce free judgment in the absence of will. For him, the will is the only cause that acts freely. Other causes are determined by their natures to act and so act necessarily.

Olivi rejects not only the Thomistic conception of freedom but also the more voluntarist conception of Bonaventure-that free decision begins with reason, since thought disposes the will to move; but since no action would follow without the will's command, free decision is completed by and consists principally in will. On Bonaventure's view, two abilities are required if the soul is to have control over its own acts. First, the soul must be able to reflect on its own acts, and second, it must be able to move itself to act. Self-reflection belongs to reason; self-movement, which follows reason, belongs to appetite. Free decision must therefore include both reason and will. 73

in aliis habere potest, si non est libera.-Si autem dicatur quod intellectus reflectit super se, et tamen non est potentia libera: scire debet qui hoc dicit quod nunquam intellectus reflectit se, quia nunquam movet se, sed potius voluntas reflectit ipsum, cuius est movere tarn ipsurn quam alias potentias sibi subiectas. Pro quanto autem inte1-lectus potest reflecti et esse reflexus super se, pro tanto secundario libertatem aliquo modo participat ... " (Jansen ed., il, 325). See also ibid., ad 21: "Dicunt etiam quod Jibertas iudicii seu iudicandi et arbitrandi non dicit aliam libertatem nisi solam ilIam quae est in voluntatc, sicut nec libertas varia imaginandi aut sic vel sic manum movendi est in imaginatione vel manibus, sed solum in voluntate, quae non solum est libera ad movendum se, sed etiam ad rnovendum alias potentias. Unde habere libertatem discernendi et iudicandi non est aliud. secundum istos quam habere voluntatem potentem libere movere intellectum ad hoc vel illud cogitandum, discemendum et iudicandum. Unde et dicunt quod nunquam intellectus potest hoc vel illud libere discernere vel iudicare eo modo quo hic accipimus autem iudicii liberum, nisi prout intellectus est a voluntate motus et regulatus" (Jansen ed., il, 368). Although Olivi attributes this opinion to an unspecified Ii them," his presentation makes it clear that he endorses the opinion. On the apprehended object as a natural cause see ibid., q. 58, ad 2 & 7 (Jansen ed., il,

4I8-I 9,425)· 73= Sent., il, d. 25, p. I, a. un., q. 3: "Ad hoc autem, quod aliqua potentia hoc domi

nium habeat, necesse est, quod ipsa possit movere se ipsam, et quod possit se super actum suum reflectere. . Reflectere autem se super se, hoc est virtutis cognitivae, sublimatae a materia, quae quidern est ratio. Movere autein se, hoc est virtutis 'appetiti-

VOLUNTARISM 133

Olivi reports this opinion with some deference: "Certain great men think that freedom is neither only in the will nor only in the intellect} but in both at once, ... so that while freedom begins materially and dispositiveiy in the intellect, it is finally and formally completed in the will."74 Olivi also echoes Bonaventure's doubts about the combination of two powers into one. Yet where Bonave~ture concludes that free decision is not a power distinct from reason and will, but rather a habitus of both, Olivi argues that the powers of reason and will cannot combine to produce a single action:

... A single agent cannot be constituted from two powers so that from these there would issue onc simple act. For from intellect there can issue no act other than understanding or thinking, and from will no act other than willing. It is impossible that understanding and willing be one simple act, nor from these can there be composed and through the composition constituted some one act.

75

If intellect and will cannot combine to produce a single act, Bonaventure's position becomes untenable. Olivi can accommodate the traditional view} that free decision is some kind of "faculty:' of will and reason, only by arguing that reason can be controlled by the

will:

A faculty of reason and will cannot be a third power other than reason and will, nor one power composed of the two. Nor can it be in some way other than free will} since otherwise free will would be naturally subject .to it, and by consequence would not be essentially free. It should therefore be understood that the selfsame faculty of will is able to move reason and will to freely distinguishing

vae, rationem consequentis. Ad hoc igitur, ut illud dominium sit in anima, necesse est, quod habeat et rationem et voluntatem" (Quaracchi ed., Il, 599). See also ibid., q. 6

(Quaracchi cd., IT, 605)· 74. Quaest. in 11 Sent., q. 57, ad 2I: "Quidarn vera magni volunt quod libertas non

sit solum in voluntate aut solurn in inteUectu, sed potius in utrisque simul, ... ita tamen quod libertatem in intellectu materialiter et dispositive inchoari, in voluntatem

autem finaliter et fonnalitcr consummari" (Jansen ed., 11, 365). 75. Ibid.: " . .. Ex duabus potentiis non potest constitui aliquod unum agens, ita quod

ab eis unus simplex actus exeat; ab intellectu enim non potest exire alius actus quam intelligere vel cogitare nec a voluntate alius quam velle; impossibile est autem quod intelligere et velle sint unus actuS simplex, immo nec ex eis potest componi et per corn

positionem constitui aliquis unus actus" (Jansen ed., il, 366).

134 VOLUNTARISM

one thing from another, to judging, and to willing or choosing. In~ deed, the will controls reason as much as itself, and on that account its faculty is called a faculty not only of will but also of reason.76

We come at last to Olivi's claim, that insofar as the will is free, it is totally active:

Catholics disagree with certain pagans and Saracens on the first point, namely, that free acts are totally produced by the will, or that free decision or will, insofar as it is hee, is a totally active power. This is necessarily to be held by faith as well as by right reason. As is evident from the preceding question [q. S7t it is necessary that free decision have the characteristic of first mover, such that it can impel and move and withdraw itself and the other faculties and active powers subject to it-and this not only when nothing is impelling it to the contrary, but also when there is something inclining it to the contrary. Hence, it is able to act against the inclination of its own habits, else the virtuous man could not turn from virtue to vice, nor the vicious from vice to virtue. It is also able to act against the inclinations of sensual passions .... Thus, the very essence of our freedom, which we must assert according to the faith and right reason, plainly declares that the will, insofar as it is free, is totally active.77

76. Quaest. ip II Sent., q. 55, ad y "Facultas enim rationis et voluntatis non potest esse tertia potentia, alia ab intellectu et voluntate, nec una potentia essentialiter com· posha ex duabus, nec aliquo modo potest esse alia a voluntate libera, quia alias oporteret voluntatem liberam sibi esse naturaliter subiectam, ac per consequens non esse essentialiter liberam. Intelligendum est ergo quod eadem facultas voluntatis est potens movere rationem et voluntatem ad libere discernendum et iudicandum et ad volendum se eligenduffi; voluntas enim dominatur tarn sibi quam rationi, et ideo sua facultas non solum dicitur facultas voluntatis, sed etiam ratibnis" (Jansen ed., IT, 293).

77. Ibid., q. 58, resp.: "Primum igitur in quo catholici a quibusdam paganis et Saracenis dissentiunt, quod scilicet actus liberi sint totaliter praducti a voluntate seu quod liberum arbitrium vel voluntas, in quantum est libera, sit totaliter potentia activa, est riecessario tenendum tarn secundum fidem catholicam quam secundum rationem rectarn. Sicut enim ex praecedenti quaestione patet, necesse est quod liberum arbitrium habeat rationem primi motoris et talis quod possit se et alias potentias et virtutes activas sibi subiectas impellere et movere et retrahere, et hoc non solum, quando nullum est impellens ad contrarium, sed etiam quando est ibi aliquid inclinans ad contrarium. Unde et potest agere contra inclinationem suorum habituum, aliter virtuosus non posset declinare a virtutibus ad vitia nec alium .... Ipsa igitur essentia nostrae libertatis quam secundum fidem et rationem rectam oportet nos ponere clamat evidenter quod voluntas, in quantum est libera, est totaliter activa" (Jansen ed., il, 4Io-II).

VOLUNTARISM 135

Olivi means by "totally active!! that the will IIreceives nothing from the object or the intellect/' that it is lithe sufficient e.fficient

. cI'ple of its own acts !I and that the presence of the object, alpnn , . ,' 78 1 though necessary, is never necessary as an effiCIent pnncIple .. Wa -ter and William struggled to retain the moved-mover conceptlO.n of will by suggesting ways in which the will might aptly be descnbed as IImoved." Olivi simply rejects the Aristotelian formula.

Here, however, one must be careful to distinguish style from substance. Though OIivi's predecessors had not rejected the mo~edmover fo~mula, they had radically changed its original meanIng. And Olivi himself acknowledges that the will needs the intellect for the representation of the object. In asserting that the will flrecei.ves nothing, I! his main concern is to deny that the intellect or the object

is an efficient cause of volition:

Not everything that is prerequisite for the production of something is the efficient cause of it; otherwise, the patient, insofar as it is the patient, would be the efficient cause of the effects it receives,. since insofar as it is the patient, it is prerequisite for the produc.tIon of those effects. Nevertheless, it is not prerequisite to effectm? :he effects or coeffecting something in them, but only to recelvmg them. So I say that the objects of free will or free decisio?- are pre~ requisite to its free acts not to effecting them or coeffectmg something in them, but only to limiting the asp~ct [aspectus] of th: ~ctingpower, and to limiting the act itself and Its reference. lu~e .l~miting" in the sense of an external rather than an ~ternal lImIting. In truth, the object is not an internal limit [termmus], but only an

external one. 79

78. Ibid.: "Yoluntas est totaliter activa respectu actuum suorum,. i~ quod pe~itus nihil recipit ab obiecto nee ab intellectu, sed ipsa est sufficiens princIplUm effectlvum actuum suorum .... Nihilominus tamen volebant quod praesentia obi~cti s~t sem~er necessaria ad actuS eius in ratione obiecti vel tennini, nunquam autemmratlone prmcipii effectivi" (Jansen ed., il, 410). Althoughin this place he attributes the view to "cer-

tain Catholic doctors," Olivi subsequently adopts it as his own. . . 79. Ibid., ad 3: "Ad tertium dicendum quod non omne <Iuod necessario praeexI~ltur

ad productionem alicuius est causa effectiva ipsius. Alias patiens: in q~ntum patlens, esset causa effectiva effectuum quos in se recipit, quoniam patlens, III quantum pa

tiens, praeexigitur ad productionem ipsorum, non tamen pra.eexigitu~ ad effici~nd~m eos aut ad coefficiendum aliquid in ipsis, sed solum ad recipIendum IpSOS. Et SIC dICO quod obiecta voluntatis liberae seu liberi arbitrii non praeexiguntur ad eius actus.liberas ad aliquid e£ficiendum se coefficiendum in ipsis actibus, sed solurn ad tennl~andum aspectum potentiae agentis et ad terminandum ipsum actum et respectum ems.

VQLUNTARISM

What role does the object play in Olivi's psychology? He says that it serves as a terminus of the willis act. But whatl precisely, is a terminus? Is it a cause or only a necessary condition? Despite his refusal to make the object an efficient cause of volition, Olivi nonetheless accepts it as a final cause:

The objective cause can be properly located in the genus of final causel orl if we were to call it by a name of more accurate meaning, it might be called a terminative cause [causa terminativaJ. As amaterial cause truly has the character [ratioJ of a cause with respect to the thing produced from it or received in it-even though it is not properly an efficient cause of that thing-so a terminative cause truly has the character of a cause of the action terminated in itl

though it is not properly an efficient cause of that action. BO

In accepting the object as a kind of final causel Olivi is again in general harmony with his predecessors. WaIter taught that the intellect's presentation of the object moves the will per modum finis. William reduced the intellect to a cause sine qua non but agreed that the apprehended object in some sense moves the will. Although neither said expressly that a final cause I'moves" only in the metaphorical sense, no other conclusion seems possible. Henry of Ghent's Quodlibet I (Christmas 1276) made the point explicitly, Henry argued that intellect's presentation of an object as good is a sine qua non of volition, that it moves the will as an end, that is, metaphorically, but not as either a formal or efficient cause.Bl Final causality was not regarded as a serious threat to the freedom of the will.

The idea that intellect's presentation of the object is the formal cause of volition created far greater concern. Aquinas's invocation

Terminandum dico per modum termini extrinseci, non per modum tennini inttinsed j

obiectum enim non est terminus intrinsecus eorum, sed solurn extrinsecus" Dansen

ed., IT, 419)' See also q. 57, ad 12 (11, 354). 80. Quaest in II Sent., q. 72: "Potest autem causa obiectiva proprie poni in genere

causae finalis aut, si propriori nomine vis earn vocare, vocetur causa terminativa. Sicut enim causa materialis habet vero rationem causae respectu educti ex ea vel recepti in ea, quamvis non sit proprie causa efficiens eius: sic causa terminativa habet vere rationem causae, quamvis non sit proprie causa efficiens actionis terminatae in ipsa" (Jan

sen ed., Ill, 36-37). 8r. Quodl. I, q. 17, resp. (Macken cd., V, 125-27).

VOLUNTARISM 137

of formal causality was accordingly greeted with alarm: a formal cause was apparently associated with efficiency. Aquinas's later works thus constituted, in the eyes of contempbrary voluntarists, no improvement on his earlier works. Indeed, it is in response to the Prima secundae that William finally declares intellect's presentation of the object merely a cause sine qua non of volition.

82

Olivi pushes earlier proposals a step farther, and the already tenuous connection with Aristotle's teachings finally breaks. He argues that the will can freely specify its own acts because it has in itse~f different specific reasons or 11 aspects. 11 It is, Olivi suggests, If as if wax had within itself the power of applying to or imprinting on itself different seals." Such is the case with the will, except lIin a

much higher way.,,83 However confused Aristotelians might judge this doctrine, the

motivations for it are clear and no different from those found in earlier sources. Extreme claims for the will's power to determine its own actions arise from an effort to safeguard the will's freedom, not only from necessitation by forces outside the human agent but also from necessitation by the intellecti efforts to safeguard the will's freedom are driven by the conviction that moral responsibility requires nothing less. In Olivi's view, those who deny that the will has such freedom 11 destroy the good of every virtue and every law, whether divine or human, and all friendship and society, not only

among men, but also with God."84

The Cause Sine Qua Non

From 1285 to the beginning of the fourteenth century, the University of Paris witnessed escalating disputes about the freedom of the will. Richard of Middleton, evidently seeking a middle ground between opposing factions, tried to revive Bonaventure's teachings on "free decision. Henry of Ghent continued to make very strong claims for the will's freedom-perhaps all the more vehemently be-

82. Correctorium fr. Thomae, a. 59 (Glorieux ed., 242).

83. Quaest. in 11 Sent., q. 58, ad 2 (Jansen ed., 11, 415-16). 84. Quaest. in Il Sent., q. 57, resp.: "Exterminat cnim bonum omnis virtutis et

omnis legis, sive divinae sive humanae, et omnis amicitiae et societatis et quantum ad homines et quantum ad Deum" (Jansen ed., 11, 335). olivi continues at some length

(335-38), explaining how each of these goods would be destroyed.

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cause the rehabilitation of Giles put some of Henry's own positions in question, and because Godfrey of Fontaines directed more and more criticism at Henry's teachings, Gonsalvus of Spain defended Henry and criticized Godfrey, but without answering Godfrey's most important objections. A brief examination of arguments from this period should help to show both the wide range of opinion and some of the challenges facing voluntarists when Duns Scotus was a student.

In his commentary on Sentences Il, Richard of Middleton argues that free decision is not the same as will, nor is it a power separate from reason and will: it is a habit that adds nothing really distinct from those two powers. Freedom exists'principally and formally in the will; it exists dispositively in the intellect, for the intellect disposes the will to act. All of this is strikingly reminiscent of Bonaventure's teachings, but Bonaventure's teachings had been modified by later Franciscans. William de la Mare had argued that one can act immediately upon apprehending the object of his desire and yet act freely. Peter Olivi had argued that someone can act freely without any previous deliberation. While Richard recognizes the concern to establish moral responsibility for actions done without actual deliberation, he himself wants to emphasize the connection between freedom and the capacity to deliberate. He accordingly describes free decision as "formally the will itself as it is regarded after deliberation and in dependence on the intellect, or after a period of time in which the man was able and obligated to deliberate. 1I On this view, the will cannot act freely the moment its desired object is apprehended. Between apprehension and free action there must be sufficient time for the will to move the intellect to deliberation. "If the will then hurls itself into some illicit act before deliberation , that same act,lI Richard says, "can be justly imputed to it. IIB5

Though Richard's position establishes that hotheadedness does

BS. Sent., IT, d . .24, a. I, q. 3, resp.: "Sed formaliter liberum arbitrium est ipsa voluntas, prout consideratur post deliberationem, pendentem in intellectu, vel post tempus in quo homo deliberare potuit, et debuit. ... Restat ergo quod voluntas non habet rationem liberii arbitrii, nisi post deliberationem, vel saltem post tempus sufficiens ad deliberandum, quia praesupposita rei intellectione simpliei, et habito sufficienti tempore ad deliberandum voluntaslibere potest movere vel non movere intellectum ad consiliandum: et ideo si tunc ante consiliationem praecipitat se in aliquid illicitum iuste imputatur eidem" (Brescia IS9I, IT, .29S).

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not excuse, it leaves broader philosophical questions unanswered. Suppose I do not have time for deliber~tion: I must eat my, colleague's sandwich now or not at all, for I can already see, through my seventh-floor window, that he is returning to the building. But suppose I would not consider the act as theft even if I had the entire afternoon to deliberate. Would the lack of time still mitigate my culpability for eating the sandwich? Richard's claim that free decision requires time for deliberation seems to assume, without argument, that deliberation might lead the agent to decide differently.

On other issues as well Richard seeks a middle ground between intellectualism and voluntarism. Even when he appears to be entirely in harmony with partisan voluntarists, his views often turn out to be more moderate. Richard's assertion that the will can act against reason's judgment is a good example:

Experience also bears witness to this, for the intellect is to the will as a servant who carries alamp before his master, who does nothing except to show the way and to persuade; and the master commands the servant to turn the lamp in whatever direction pleases him. [The intellect i~ to the will] as a counselor to the emperor who shows and persuades that a deed should be done. The emperor, however, commands sometimes according to the advice given and sometimes to the contrary.86

This passage is strikingly reminiscent of WaIter of Bruges and Henry of Ghent. But one begins to have doubts about the deeper similarities when Richard explains that the will does not always will the end efficaciously, and that the intellect may judge that an act should be chosen as consistent with the end but not necessary to it-claims that even Thomists would accept. The extent to which

86. Sent., IT, d. 3B, a . .2, q. 4, resp.: "Et hoc etiam testificatur experientia: intelleetus enim se habet ad voluntatem, sicut serviens qui portat lucemam ante dominum suum, qui nihil facit, nisi ostendere viam, et persuadere, et dominus imperat sibi, ut divertat quocunque sibi placuerit. Et sicut consiliarius ad Imperatorem, qui ostendit et persuadet, quod faciendum est. Imperator autem quandoque imperat secundum quod sibi consultum est, et aliquando contrarium" (Brescia I59I, IT, 47.2). See also ibid., ad I:

"Aliter etiam potest did, quod inte~lectus frequenter iudicat aliquid esse eligendum, non ut necessarium ad consecutionem finis, sed ut congruum: et voluntatem se movere ad eligendum contrarium, non contradicit huic, quod est voluntatem de necessitate velle finem. Aliter adhuc pot'est dici, quod quamvis de necessitate velimus finem,

non tamen semper ita effieaciter ipsum volumus ... " (il, 473).

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Richard actually objects to Thomism is difficult to determine. He reports many arguments on both sides of an issue-"Certain people say ... ; others say ... "-and though he does rake a position, exactly what the position amounts to is often open to question. Nowhere does he say that the intellect specifies the will's acts by presenting the object or that the will specifies its own acts. The net effect is of a -master sympathetic to Thomism, unpersuaded by accounts of free will given by Henry and recent Franciscans, and yet painfully aware of the 1277 articles and William's Correctorium. Richard's efforts to revive Bonaventure's teachings on free decision might be interpreted as a cautious approach to criticizing subsequent Franciscan regents.

Henry of Ghent's Quodlibet X (Christmas 1286) makes more forceful claims for the freedom of the will. Henry does his utmost to explain how the object can be a cause sine qua non and yet not merely an accidental cause of volition. The object, he argues, serves to remove an obstacle to willing: the ignorance of the intellect. Since the will can will only what the intellect apprehends, the object enables the will to act and can therefore be regarded as a cause per se. Nevertheless, what the object does per se is merely to remove an obstacle to volition. Once the ignorance of the intellect is expelled, the will moves itself.87

The analysis Henry presents has quite a distinguished lineage, though not as an account of the intellect's causal role in volition. It was used as early as the twelfth century, by Alan of Lille, to explain the human contribution to divine justification. Believing that we can prepare ourselves for grace by penitence, but rejecting the idea that human preparation can be an efficient cause of justification, Alan argued that penitence is a cause sine qua non which merely removes an obstacle to grace.88 The cause sine qua non enjoyed considerable success in the theological arena. In philosophical psychology its appeal was more limited.

Although we cannot know for certain, because the texts we have for Godfrey's first four quodlibets are either abridgements or students' reportationes, some of Henry's Quodlibet X may represent an effort to answer criticisms in Godfrey's Quodlibet lIT, a disputation

87· Quodl. X, q. 9 (Macken ed., XIV, 248-51).

88. For further discussion see A. McGtath, Iustitia Dei, vo!. 1 (Camblidge, t986L 84.

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conducted the same season. At least one argument against his position recited in Henry's Quodlibet X appears later, in Godfrey's Quodlibet VI (Christmas 1289): If one holds that, in the presence of the object, the will reduces itself from potency to act, one could equally hold that, when fire is present, a branch burns itself: the presence of fire is merely a cause sine qua non. While Godfrey might have been reporting an argument originally offered by another master, he might equally have been repeating an argument he had already used against Henry. Whatever the details of their repeated conflicts about the will, Godfrey's Quodlibet VI shows not the slightest sympathy for Henry's voluntarism. If the will moved itself, Godfrey argues, it would be both the active and the passive cause of volition; but when the active and passive causes are present, as they would always be if the will itself were bothl then action follows, so that the will would always be actually willing. In Godfrey's opinion, Henry's position has many implications no less ridiculous than the omniactivity of the wilL 89

Godfrey was a more extreme intellectualist than Aquinas. Whatever his failings in the eyes of voluntarists, Aquinas had at least made the will the efficient cause of volition. He taught that reason's presentation of the object specifies the willis act, but this formal causality was not simply equated with efficient causality. In contrast, Godfrey argued that the object as it is presented by the intellect is both the formal and the efficient cause of volition.90 Voluntarists had long worried about Aquinas's remarks on the intellect's moving the will as a formal cause. In Godfrey's works their suspicions were probably confirmed: if intellect's presentation of the object moves the will as a formal cause, it moves the will efficiently.

Though Godfrey allows that the will can be said to Ifmove itself," he does not mean that the will can move itself literally or directly. The will moves itself only insofar as its willing of the end moves the intellect to deliberating about various means. As we know, voluntarists often object to this thesis, for it seems to exclude the possibility that the will can act against reason's judgment. If intellectu-

89. Godfrey, Quodl. VI, q. 7 (PB Ill, I5I-52, 158); cf. Henry, Quodl. X, q. 9 (Macken

ed., XIV, 229). 90. On Godfrey's identification of the formal cause of volition with the efficient

cause see Wippel, The Metaphysical Thought, 194-202.

VOLUNT ARJ SM

alist doctrine subjects the will to no more than conditional neces~ sity, it subjects the will to necessity nonetheless. In reaction against this necessitation of the will, some masters denied that deliberation is a necessary prelude to choice. All they deemed necessary was intellect's presentation of the object, and this they interpreted as merely a cause sine qua non of volition.

Gonsalvus of Spain! Franciscan regent at Paris from 1302 to 1303, knew quite well the objections Godfrey had raised against Henry!s teachings. Nothing can reduce itself from potency to act; if we hold that the will does so, we might as well hold that the branch burns itself; if the will moved itself to willing, it would always be actually willing-Gonsalvus reports these along with some dozen other arguments against the will as total efficient cause of volition. With him! however! none of the arguments carry much weight. The position he endorses is quite close to Peter Olivi's and probably closer still to Henry's. According to Gonsalvus! the object presented by the intellect is only a causa coassistens or sine qua non of volition; although it is not merely an accidental requirement! neither is it an efficient or formal cause of the wil}is acts.91 If the object were the efficient cause of volition, Gonsalvus argues, we would not be master of our acts. An act of will would be traceable to the object, and sin could not be imputed to the agent himself.92

91. Quaest. disp., q. 3: "Sed dico aliter, quia secundum Augustinum, IX De Trini-. tate, cap. ultimo, obiectum reducitur ad causam agentem, sed est agens sine quo noni

nihilorninus est causa per se coassistens imprimenti, sed nihil imprimit, nec oportet

propter hoc quod sit causa per accidens, sed est causa per se" (Amoros ed., 45-46); cf. Henry of Ghent, Quodl. X, q. 9 (Macken ed., XIV, 238-42, 248). Also compare Gonsal

vus, op. cit. (Amoros ed., 28-30) with Godfrey, Quodl. VI, q. 7 (PB Ill, 148ff.). Like all

voluntarists of the period, Gonsalvus readily concedes that the object moves the will as an end. See Quaest. disp., q. 7: JI Apprehensio enim per se requiritur ad motionem

voluntatis, sed non movet ut finis, quia tunc apprehensio per se appeteretur et princi

paliter, quod falsum est; sed realitas appetibilis movet ut finis, sed non potest movere

nisi apprehensio praecederet; actio enim intellectus per se requiritur ad actionem voluntatis, et est causa per se non imprimens, sed coassistens per hunc modum. JI

(Amoros ed., rrr).

92. Quaest. disp., q. 3: "Item, si actus voluntatis non sit effective a voluntate, opor

tebit ipsum reducere in aliquid aliud, puta obiectum vel Deum: ergo et peccatum in illud reducetur et non in nos, nec per consequens imputabitur" (Amoros ed., 40). See

also ibid., q. 8 (Amoros ed., 123).

VOLUNTARISM 143

While he has no particular animus against Aristotle! Gonsalvus is plainly unhappy with the conception of the will as a moved mover. He argues at some length that the will moves itself, just as he argues that the will can act against reason!s judgment and that freedom excludes necessity. Gonsalvus consistently emphasizes! as most voluntarists do, that we cannot be morally responsible if reason determines or necessitates the will. If the will could not act against reason's judgment, the sins of Adam and Satan would be inexplicable, for no ignorance preceded their sins. They sinned against conscience, and such sins are possible only if the will can act against what reason dictates should be done. Gonsalvus suggests that experience establishes the same point. When people act against conscience, they feel remorse; but we would never have grounds for remorse if we always did what we believed at the time to be good simpliciter.93

Duns Scotus, who studied theology at Paris when Gonsalvus was regent of the Franciscan school, agreed that moral responsibility requires a kind of freedom that Godfrey could not explain. But as we shall see! he took Godfrey's objections about the causes of volition far more seriously than Gonsalvus or Henry had.

Freedom and Partial Efficiency

Scotus's best-known account of relations between intellect, will, and object probably continues to be the question published in Book Il, dist. 25 of the Wadding-Vives Opus Oxoniense. We pass over this question not only because it will be- omitted from the critical edition of Scotus!s works but also because other texts offer a clearer statement of his views. Our main sources will be the Secundae ad-

93. Ibid., q. 8: " ... Nullum agens aliquid quod credit esse simpliciter bonum, dum illud agit, agit contra conscicnti~m suam, nec habet remarsum conscientiae; sed si ita

sit quod voluntas non potest velle aliquid contra iudicium rationis, etiam pro illo nunc

pro quo ratio iudicat, omne agens dum agit, agit aliquod quod simplicter credit esse bonum, quia ratio illud iudicat esse simpliciter bonum, nec potest contrarium agere ut

dicis; ergo sequitur quod nullus agit contra conscientiam, nechabet remarsum consci

entiae .... Secundo, idem patet de pecccato primi angeli et primi parentis, quia in ipsis nulla ignorantia, nec actualis nec habitualis praecessit peccatum earum; ergo peccave

runt contra conscientiam, quod non esset nisi voluntas posset moveri contra iudicium

rationis" (Amoros ed.,_126-28).

144 VOLUNTARISM

ditiones to Book il, which Carl Balie attributes to Seotus, and the Additiones magnae by Seotus's secretary, William of Alnwick.94

Seotus begins by reporting two positions} both of which he regards as unacceptable extremes. The first, usually attributed to Godfrey of Fontaines, is that the object as it is presented in the phantasm is the total cause of volition. The second is Henry of Ghent's position: the will is the total efficient cause of its own acts; the object as presented by the intellect is only a cause sine qua nOll,

needed to remove an impediment to volition. Seotus presents a long series of objections to the first position.

Although his arguments are usually formulated with greater pr~cision than the arguments of earlier voluntarists, the basic points are often the same. A few examples: (1) A passion is not in the power of the patient, so if willing is properly a passion of the will, then_the act of willing will not be in the will's power-which does away with praise and blame, merit and demerit. (2) If the will cannot move unless moved by the intellect, then either the will will be unable to command the intellect or the process will go on to infinity. 131 The intellectualist position contradicts not only the teachings of the saints but also the teachings of Aristotle. Aristotle says in Metaphysics IX that a rational potency is capable of contrary effects and in its own right would produce contrary effects simultaneously; hence, there must be something that determines it to one of the two, namely appetite or prohairesis.95

Of greater interest, at least from the historical standpoint, are th~ arguments against Henry of Ghent. As we know, Henry was not alone in regarding the object as merely a cause sine qua non of volition: several Franciscans held the same opinion. When he argued against Henry, Scotus had come to believe that the usual voluntarist position was ill considered. The freedom of the will would have to be preserved in some other way.

94. On the critical edition of Book n of Scotus's Ordinatia see WoIter, "Reflections on the Life and Works," 33-34. The relevant sections of Alnwiek's additions, cited below as the Additiones magnae, are given in C. Balic, Les commentaires de [ean Duns Scat SUI les quatreslivres des Sentences, vo!. 1 (Louvain, 1927), 264-301. The text cited as the Secundae additiones is published in Balic, "Une questioninedite de J. Duns Scot sur la volonte," Recherches de theoJogie ancienne et medievale 3 (1931): 191-208.

95. Secundae additiones, 194-97·

VOLUNTARISM 145

The arguments Scotus presents against Henry can be divided into two broad categories: those against the very concept of a cause sine qua non, and those against the apprehended object as a cause sine qua non of volition. Against the concept Scotus cites Aristotle's four kinds of causes, which he says are sufficient to produce every effect. If a fifth cause is introduced, either the doctrine of the four causes is wrong or the cause sine qua non is reducible to one of the other four. According to William of Alnwick's report of the lectures, Scotus went on to suggest that Henry's description of a cause sine qua non is incoherent: "In the whole world there is not to be found such a cause sine qua non, as that is called a cause sine qua non without the action of which the agent does not act, and yet which exercises no causality on it or its act .... ,,96 If a cause sine qua non is such that when present, the effect is produced, and when absent, the effect is not produced, then a cause sine qua non is reducible to an efficient cause.

Scotus himself indicates that he is reciting, rather than inventing, objections to Henry's position: IIContra hoc arguitur per rationem aliorum auctorum tenentium partern oppositam ... . "97 Among the arguments he gives is one already presented by Gonsalvus, Godfrey, and even Henry himself: If the will cannot move in its own right unless the object is present, and nevertheless the object is only a cause sine qua non and not an efficient cause, then a branch would be the total cause of its own burning: the presence of fire would be only a cause sine qua non. Another argument Scotus gives-that if the will were both the active and the passive cause of volition, it would always be actually willing-was likewise offered by the three earlier masters. Yet another argument Scotus gives was reported at least by Gonsalvus: If the will is the total cause of volition and has in its power all acts that it is possible to will, then it will have infinite power.98 Thus it seems that the arguments Scotus presents against Henry's position were standard objections, some

96. Secundae additiones, 200; Additianes magnae, 278: "In toto universo noninvenitUl talis causa sine qua non, ut illud dicatur eausa sine qua non, quo non agente, aliud non agit, quod non habet eausalitatem super illud, nee super actum eius.

97. Secundae additiones, 200.

98. Secundae additiones, 199-201. On the will as having infinite powel cf. GonsalVllS, Quaest. disp., q. 3 (Amoros ed., 28).

VOLUNTARISM

probably offered originally by Godfrey, some perhaps by other masters, As Scotus recites standard objections to the intellectualist extreme, so he recites standard objections to the voluntarist extreme,

Scotus himself judges both positions untenable. If the object is the total efficient cause of volition, then the will's freedom is sacrificed, If the will is the total efficient cause of volition, then other unacceptable conclusions follow (namely, those set out in the arguments against Henry's account), Scotus accordingly proposes a via media: "Both the will and the object concur in causing an act of willing, so that the act of willing is from the will and from the object known as from an efficient cause. 1/99

Since contributing or partial causes can be of various kinds, Scotus is careful to distinguish between them, He considers three different ways in which several causes can concur to produce a single effect, In the first way, the causes are of one grade in the causal order, and neither derives its power from the other. They act independently, like two men pulling the same boat. Such causes concur only accidentally in producing the effect, for if the power of one were increased, it alone would suffice and the second cause could be eliminated. Causes can also concur in such a way that one derives its power of causing from the other, as when a hand moves a stick and the stick a stone. In this case the causes are essentially ordered because the second (the stick) derives its power of causing the effect entirely from the first Ithe hand).

The third kind of concurrence is the most important, for it is that which explains the concurrence of partial causes in volition:

In the third way several causes can concur, each according to its own power, in causing a single effect-not equally, however, but with one the more principal agent than the other, as father and mother concur with respect to the production of a child, so that both are active and one does not receive its causality from the

99. Secundae additiones, 202: "Respondeo igitur ad quaestionem, quod causa effectiva actus volendi, non est tantum opiectum ut phantasma quia hoc nullo modo salvat libertatem prout ponit prima opinio, nee etiam causa effeetiva actus volendi est tantum voluntas quemadmodum ponit secunda extrema, quia tunc non possunt salvari omnes conditiones quae consequentur actus volendi, ut ostensum est. Ideo teneo viam mediam, quod tarn voluntas quam obiectum concurrat ad causandum actus volendi, ita quod actus volendi est a voluntate et ab obiecto cognito ut a causa effectiva."

VOLUNT ARI SM I47

other, though one is more principally active. Thus the object known concurs with the will in causing the act of willing. 100

The object known thus exercises a causality of its own, independent of and yet subordinate to the causality of the will. The will does not derive its causality from the object, as extreme intellectualists suggest, nor is the object known merely an accidental cause of volition, as extreme voluntarists suggest, The object is always necessary, for under no circumstances would the will be able to act without it.

Having explained the cooperation of the will with the intellect's presentation of the object in causing volition, Scotus argues that both together constitute the total cause of an act of will. The will is the more principal cause and the object known the less principal, because the will acts freely, whereas the object operates as a natural agent. Because on its own side it always acts, the object can never cause volition without the wilJis concurrence. lO1 On first reading, this account of partial, concurring causes might appear a startling retreat from recent Franciscan teachings to a position resembling Bonaventure's. Note, however, that Scotus is discussing the partial causes of a single act of will. He is not explaining how intellect and will contribute to acts of some composite faculty or habit of free decision. Even more important is Scotus's division between the will and na~llral agents.

By a IInatural" agent Scotus means one whose actions are determined by its nature so that it must act when conditions enable it to

roo. Additiones magnae, 282: "Tertio modo possunt aliqua concurrere secundum propriam virtutem ad unum effectum causandum, non tamen ex aequo, sed unum est principalius agens quam alia, sicut pater et mater concurrunt respectu productionis filii, ita quod utrumque se habet active, non tamen alterum recipit causalitatem suam ab alio, quamvis una sit principalius activum et sic concurrit obiectum cognitum cum voluntate ad causandum actum volendi." See also Secundae additiones, 203.

raI. Secundae additiones, 203: " ... Voluntas nnins cause habet rationem, sc. cause particularis respectu actus volendi, et anima actum cognoscendi obiectum ratione alterius cause partialis et utrumque est simul causa totalis respectu actus volendi, voluntas tamen est causa principalior et natura cognoscens minus principale, quia voluntas libere movet, ad cuius motionem movet aliud unde determinat aliud ad agendum, sed natura cognoscens obiectum est naturale agens, quia quantum est ex parte sui, agit semper, numquam tamen potest esse sufficiens ad actum eliciendum nisi concurrente voluntate, et ideo voluntas est causa principalior ...

148 VOLUNT ARI SM

do so. Those natural agents devoid of reason are determined to one effect, as a stone is determined to fall if not impeded. As a rational power, the intellect is capable of opposite acts regarding the same object: it can judge that the object should be pursued or avoided. But because the intellect is a rational power that acts according to its nature, it cannot determine itself to one of the two alternatives, nor can it refrain from acting. lOl The will, in contrast, can act or not, so although it is not the only cause of its own acts, it is the only free cause. Thus it is the will alone that makes any act a free act, fI as I see freely because I use the power of sight when I will. 11 103

Olivi used the distinction between the free agency of the will and the natural, necessary agency of other causes to argue that the will is the sole efficient cause of its own acts. Scotus uses the same distinction to argue only that the will is the sole source of freedom. In presenting intellect and object as partial efficient causes of volition, he avoids many of the problems raised by the more extreme voluntarism that evolved in the last quarter of the thirteenth century. Reason is no longer merely a cause sine qua noni it is a partial cause that contributes actively to volition. Nevertheless, the will remains the principal cause of its own acts. Because the will acts freelybecause intellect and object combined cannot determine it to actit alone introduces an element of contingency in the process culminating in bodily action.

Why should this element of contingency be so important? One answer is given in q. IS of Scotus's quodlibet, where he explains what it is that makes an act "imputable," that is, eligible for praise' or blame, reward or punishment. Scotus argues that what all such acts have in common is that they lie within the free power of the agent. While this power involves both intellect and will, the will alone is indeterminate as regards contradictory acts: "It is because the will has its act in its power indeterminately, presupposing only knowledge, that the act is essentially imputable to the agent.!l 10

4 It

102. See, for example, Quaestiones in Metaphysicam IX, q. IS (Waiter ed., 150-72).

r03. Additiones magnae, 83: "Voluntas utitur ilIa causa partiali, ut effectus sequatur; et tamen in potestate voluntatis est, illa causa uti vel non uti, ideo libere agit, sicuIt libere video, quia utor potentia visiva cum volo."

r04. Quodl. q. 18, a. 2, n. 18.24, in John Duns Scotus, God and CIeatures: The Quodlibetal Questions, trans. F. Alluntis and A WoIter (Princeton, 1975), 406.

VOLUNTARISM 149

is the freedom of the will that makes our acts our own and so makes us responsible for them. In the next chapter we shall see how this freedom, far from being explainable solely in terms of metaphysical contingency or indeterminacy, requires careful consideration of the motives for moral action.

4

MORAL WEAKNESS AND THE

PROBLEM OF SIN

The Christian conception of sin has traditionally covered a wide range of rnisbehavior and motivations. As cold-blooded murder is a sin, so too is eating more than one should, even occasionally ar:d on impulse rather than as a matter of habitual gluttony. In its most extreme form, sin is presumed to involve conscious and willful disobedience of God's law. Someone knows, say, that God prohibits stealing; she recognizes that entering her office building in the dark of night and carrying off a laser printer would indeed be stealing, and yet she does it anyway. Though one might say that the printer thief aimed at some good, where 11 goodll is broad enough to embrace anything the agent deems pleasant or beneficial, one might equally deny that she aimed at a moral good. This need not commit one to the more extreme claim that she saw her action as evil, much less to the claim that she chose evil for its own sake or acted for the sake of disobeying God's law. People can break moral rules not because they enjoy breaking them but because, under the circumstances, they believe it advantageous to do so. Given the human capacity for

ISO

MORAL WEAKNESS ISI

inconsistency, they may even bre;lk moral rules that they them* selves think important and ordinarily follow. Twentieth-century Christians unswayed by theory would surely have few, if any, objections to these bland observations. The pretheoretical conception of sin becomes deeply problematic only when one tries to square it with moral philosophy, especially as handed down from the Greeks.

The idea that sound moral principles derive from God~given laws is, of course, quite alien to Aristotle's thought. What Aristotle considers the embodiment of vice is not the person who knows what is good and acts contrary to her knowledge; it is the person whose conception of the good life is utterly tWisted, who consistently acts in <}.ccordance with principles that are themselves erroneous. Far from conscious and willful disobedience to the moral rules, the be~ havior of the vicious reflects a profound and possibly incurable moral blindness. Perhaps the closest Aristotle comes to the pretheoretical Christian conception of sin is his account of akrasia (alias moral weakness or incontinence). We shall accordingly begin there; then we shall turn to scholastic discussions of Aristotle's teachings and the problems they were thought to raise. I

Akrasia in Brief

Aristotle's analysis of moral weakness has produced such a storm in the secondary literature that one must now look quite closely to find areas of accord. There are, I believe, at least two of them. All scholars agree (i) that the incontinent does not choose the act he performs, and (ii) that he does not believe his act to be good. Both points are firmly established by the text of the Ethics. Aristotle says explicitly that the incontinent acts contrary to his choice (prohairesis),2 though exactly what he means by this is one question his

r. For useful analysis of other scholastic treatments of akrasia see R. Saarinen, Weakness of the Will in Medieval Thought: From Augustine to Buridan (Leiden, 1994). Saarinen discusses not only Anselm of Canterbury, Peter Abelard, and some early thirteenth-century summae but also commentaries On the Nicomachean Ethics by Albert the Great, Thomas Aquinas, WaIter Burley, Gerald Odonis, and John Buridan. Although his work omits late thirteenth-century authors other than Aquinas, and so has little direct relevance to the present study, it provides a helpful account of earlier authors as well as a valuable survey of fourteenth-century Ethics commentaries.

2. EN II46b.2.2-.24, II48a9-10, IIsra5-Y. In some places, e.g., IIIIbr3-1S, Aristotle says only that the incontinent does not act with choice, a description that would

I52 MORAL WEAKNESS

interpreters try to answer. Aristotle also makes it clear that the incontinent acts without any false sense of moral conviction: he does not believe that he should act as he does.3

The second point is probably implied by the first. Aristotle describes choice as the desire to do what reason asserts to be good. Since the incontinent acts contrary to his choice, he cannot be acting as he believes he should act. The usual explanation is that the incontinent suffers from a temporary but culpable ignorance. He fails to see how the sonnd moral principle that he holds applies to the situation in which he finds himself. An alternative explanation is that he sees how the principle applies, but appetite (epithumiaj leads him to act contrary to his knowledge.4 On either interpretation, the incontinent does not believe that his action is good. At most he fails to recognize that it is bad.

How does someone come to act contrary to her principles? To answer the question, we first need an account of how someone acts in accordance with her principles. This brings us to Aristotle's remarks on the practical syllogism, that is, the steps in reasoning that go to explain an action. What follows is my attempt at a brief and uncontroversial exposition of some enormously controversial passages. The aim here is not to offer new insights into Aristotle, but merely to provide a basis for comparison with scholastic teachings.

The major premise of a practical syllogism is described as a universal opinion about what is good or what is to be done. (Scholars usually speak of it as a rule or principle for action.) The minor premise, derived from sense perception, relates the universal to one's p.:u.ticular situation. When the two premises are combined and desire is present, the agent acts in accordance with her deliberation. So from the major, "All sweet things should be tasted," and from the minor, "That thing is sweet,!I there follows the act of tasting that thing-assuming that the agent is able to taste and nothing impedes her tasting (EN II47a24-3Ij.

cover both the weak incontinent, who does not abide by the results of his deliberation, and the impetuous incontinent, who does not take time to deliberate.

3. EN 1146b22-24, II5 IaII-I4. 4. The alternative explanation is defended by N. Dabl, who also gives a detailed

summary of the traditional interpretation. See Practical Reason, Aristotle, and Weakness of Will (MinneapoHs, 1984), 139-224, esp. 141-42, 215-18.

MORAL WEAKNESS I53

Aristotle's description of the incontinent's reasoning is notoriously sketchy. He says that the incontinent has two major premises: one forbidding the tasting (which is not spelled out), another asserting that 11 All sweet things are pleasant." The incontinent also has a craving for that thing. Now it is the minor premise, derived from sense perception, that governs action. Sense perception is dependent on the body and so can be affected by the bodily changes accompanying passion. The incontinent's passion thus influences his assessment of the particulars of the case. Because he craves that sweet thing, the permissive major premise becomes operative, and the syllogism is completed with reference to that.

The traditional interpretation holds that passion deprives the incontinent of his understanding of what is good in this particular situation. It does not deprive him of his understanding of what is good in principle, as is evident from the remorse he suffers after his action. Aristotle accordingly concludes that on one point Socrates was right: universal knowledge is not dragged about by passion. Only particular knowledge is affected (I I47a3,-II47b'7j.

An important element in this theory remains to be considered. Aristotle says that the incontinent's choice is sound, but he acts against his choice. In this the incontinent differs from the intemperate, who has a perverted conception of the good, but who chooses and acts in accordance with it. In asserting that the incontinent acts against his- choice, Aristotle is not suggesting that the action is involuntary, for he describes acts done from choice as a subclass of voluntary acts. The incontin,ent's act is voluntary and yet does not originate in choice.5

According to Aristotle, choice is a rational desire that arises from deliberation and reflects the agent's opinion of what is good. Ordinarily this conception of the good is the starting point for the reasoning that culminates in action. A person acts for the sake of an end he believes to be good, and the major premise of his syllogism expresses his conception of that good. When action is guided by reasoned desire, it counts as chosen. It is no less chosen if the agent has a false conception of the good. A false conception of the good would

5. EN 1152a15-I7, 1I5Ia5-7. On the connection between incontinence and the voluntary see EN IIIOb24-27, III3b30ff.; EE I224b26-36.

154 MORAL WEAKNESS

not make choice impossible; it would simply make choice bad. Thus the intemperate is described as making a bad choice, not as making no choice or as acting against his choice. He acts with the false conviction that his action is good.

The incontinent lacks such conviction. He has an accurate conception of the good, as evidenced by the major premise of the prohibiting syllogism. His choice is in _accordance with that conception. The problem is that the incontinenes passions conflict with his reasoned desire and give rise to a second major premise. This permissive premise reflects his conception of what is pleasant, not his conception of what is good. 6

For this reason Aristotle describes the major premise on which the incontinent acts as contrary to his choice, but only "incidentally contrary" (rr47br-s). In other words, it is a principle that is not directly opposed to his considered opinion. The major premises would be contradictory if the incontinent held both that" All sweet things should be tasted" and that "No sweet things should be tasted." But since his two major premises are 11 All sweet things are pleasant" and either liNo sweet things should be tasted" or something like 11 An excessive number of sweet things should not be tasted," his principles are only incidentally opposed.7

Again, the principle on which the incontinent acts represents only an opinion about what is pleasant. Unlike his vicious counterpart, the intemperate, the incontinent does not see pleasure as the good (rr S raII-24). This point deserves emphasis, for it is precisely what distinguishes Aristotle's intellectualism from Socratic int~llectualism. Socrates taught that there is one standard of value by which all actions are measured. It hardly matters what the standard is. The crucial assumption is that there is only one, for if people always act in pursuit of a single value, they cannot be faced with a conflict between values. Hence the Socratic denial of incontinence. When someone seems to pursue pleasure against her judgment of what is good, she has actually made a mistake in judg-

6. EN II46a3I-II46bs, rr46b22-24, rrsraII-24, IIpa3ff. 7. The first version of the prohibiting major is adopted in J. Bogen and J. Moravcsik,

"Aristotle's Forbidden Sweets," Journal of the History of Philosophy 20 (1982): II9-20. The second version is adopted in J. Walsh, AIistotle's Conception of Moral Weakness (New York, 1963), ro6-rr, 144-58.

MORAL WEAKNESS 155

ment. She has miscalculated the value of 11 succumbing'! to temptation. 8

Aristotle denies that all values are commensurable in the strong, Socratic sense. He asserts that there are three objects of pursuit: the noble, the useful or advantageous, and the pleasant irr04b3D-3Si. A fully virtuous man sees the truth in each class of things. His integrated conception of the good life brings the three values into harmonYj his well-trained emotions respond to reason. He takes pleasure only in what is appropriate, so that there are no longer any temptations to resist.9 At the other end of the spectrum stands the man who is intemperate (self-indulgent, profligate! or incorrigible). His conception of the good life is more narrow, though it does have a certain lunatic consistency. Ignoring the noble, the intemperate takes the pleasure of the moment to be absolutely good. The intemperate's principles may be thoroughly bad, but since he chooses and acts in accordance with them, he too has no occasion for regret. lO

In between virtue and vice lies incontinence. The incontinent does not see pleasure as the sum total of the good life. Her moral vision has not been corrupted; she knows she should not taste the sweetsj and she chooses, rightly, to abstain. But because the incontinent has not achieved the psychic harmony that comes with virtue, she still finds the sweets attractive. That craving is the undoing of her good choice. She succumbs to temptation, believing that it would be pleasant to taste the sweets. On that opinion, and against her choice, she acts.

We turn now to Thomas Aquinas's teachings on incontinence. In the course of examining Thomas's position we shall uncover assumptions shared by other scholastics, along with some doctrines that provoked heated debate. The following section is thus intended partly as a general introduction to scholastic controversies, not merely as an extended excursion into Thomistic exegesis.

S. Protagoras 351b-357e. On Aristotle's positionseeD. Wiggins, "Weakness of Will, Commensurability, and the Objects of Deliberation and Desire," in Essays on Aristotle's Ethics, ed. A. Rorty (Berkeley, 19S0), 241-65, esp. 255-56.

9. EN 1099a12-25, IlI3a31-34· An excellent account of this doctrine is given in M. Burnyeat, 11 Aristotle on Learning to Be Good," in A. Rorty, ed., Essays on Aristotle's Ethics, 69-92.

10. EN II46b22-23, II50aIS-22.

15 6 MORAL WEAKNESS

The Corruption of Reason

Aquinas's theological works present an account of incontinence plainly inspired by Aristotle's teachings. The chief difference is that Thomas awards a role to the will. No human act springs directly from the irrational part of the soul: all are acts of the wilL So even when someone acts against his choice, he may nonetheless be acting in accordance with his will.

On first reading, the introduction of the will seems to have little bearing on Aquinas's analysis of incontinence. Like Aristotle, Thomas stresses the passion and ignorance involved in incontinent action. The crucial question is not how passion can influence the will, for the will follows where the intellect leads. Nor is the question how the will can act against reason's judgment, for on Aquinas's theory, it cannot. Although someone can will contrary to what he believes in principle, he cannot will contrary to what he believes he should do at this particular time and in these particular circumstances. For Aquinas, then, the problem of incontinence is roughly what it is for Aristotle: How can knowledge be affected by passion? What sort of right belief does the incontinent have?

Aquinas's answer is true to the spirit, if not to the letter, of Aristotle's psychology. Though a person may know in principle what is bad, no one wills or acts directly on his principles. Actions are necessarily particular actions, and the judgment directing them must accordingly be a particular judgment about what one shoul~ do here and now. To formulate such a judgment, the intellect must descend from the realm of abstraction and enter the realm of sense. According to Aquinas, the primary object of the human intellect is the universal, the essence of the material thing that has been abstracted from phantasms. 11 In order to know an individual thing, or even to use the knowledge of universals it has already acquired, the intellect must revert to phantasms.12

Phantasms are images produced by the imagination which represent the particular material objects perceived by the senses. In for-

11. ST I, q. 86, a. Ij cf. De anima 417h22-23. I2. ST I, q. 84, a. 7i cf. De anima 43IaI4-I]. For further discussion see G. Kluber

taoz, "St. Thomas and the Knowledge of the Singular," New Scholasticism 26 (1952):

135-66 .

MORAL WEAKNESS 157

mulating a particular judgment, the intellect must therefore depend on the imagination. Only in this way can the intellect apply to this particular case the universal knowledge that it already possesses. Only in this way can it know actually what it knows habitually. And here the trouble begins.

Passion works in several ways to impede the transition from habitual, universal knowledge to actual, particular knowledge. Aquinas lists three of them in q. 77 of the Prima secundae. First, passion distracts attention from the prohibiting universal. This can happen because the sense appetite and the intellect are both powers of the same soul, so that when the activity of one power is intense, the operation of another is weakened or even completely impeded. Second, passion inclines to the contrary of what is known in the universal. Third, passion alters the condition of the body, which in turns makes the image of the forbidden object more attractive:

The judgment and apprehension of reason is impeded by the forceful and disordered apprehension of imagination and by the judgment of the estimative power, as is evident in madmen. It is clear, however, that the apprehension of imagination and estimative judgment follow the passion of the sense appetite, just as the judgment of taste follows the disposition of the tongue. Whence we see that men in a passion do not easily turn their imagination away from those things about which they are affected. Hence, the judgment of reason commonly follows the passion of the sense appetite, and by consequence there follows the movement of the will, which is naturally constituted [natus] always to follow reason's judgment.13

Is the incontinent's thinking so twisted by passion that he judges the forbidden act good? Or does he merely cease to judge it bad? Some scholars believe that Aristotle defends the second position;

13. ST I-IIae, q. 77, a. I: "Impeditur enim iudicium et apprehensio rationis propter vehementem et inordinatam apprehensionem imaginationis, et iudicium virtutis aestimativae, ut patent amentibus. Manifestum est autem quod passionem appetitus sensitivi sequitur imaginationis apprehensio, et iudicium aestimativae, sicut etiam dispositionem linguae sequitur iudicium gustus. Unde videmus quod homines in aliqua passione existentes, non facile imaginationem avertunt ab his circa quae afficiuntur. Unde per consequens iudicium rationis plerumque sequitur pasionem appetitus sensitivi, et per consequens motus voluntatis, qui natus est semper sequi iudicium rationis."

15 8 MORAL WEAKNESS

none believes that he defends the first. Yet the first position is defended by Aquinas. He follows Aristotle in stressing that the incontinent does not err in the universal, does not hold some perverted moral principle, but he goes on to claim that the incontinent does err in the particular. The incontinent arrives at the particular judgment that the proposed act is good.

One finds this claim in q. 77, a. 2 of the Prima secundae as well as in a parallel article of De malo. In both cases the body of the article explains the three ways in which passion impedes the transition from universal to particular knowledge. In both cases Aquinas cites Book VII of the Ethics as his authority. And in both cases one objection considered is that voluntas is only for the good or the apparent good; hence, the will wills what at least appears good to reason. The conclusion of the objection in De malo is that no one can sin knowingly, from weakness: there is no sin without ignorance. The conclusion in the Prima secundae is that passion cannot incline the intellect against the intellect's knowledge. 14

In his reply in De malo, Aquinas concedes that the will always tends to something sub ratione boni. He explains that someone sins from weakness when passion impedes his judgment in the particular; when judgment is perverted in the universal, one sins from ignorance. Thomas had said in the body of the article that passion can "corrupt" particular knowledge per viam contrarietatis. His reply to the objection clarifies the nature of this corruption. It seems that passion not only prevents the incontinent from recognizing that th~ proposed act is bad. It also generates the false opinion that the act is good. IS

Aquinas's reply to the objection in the Prima secundae is much

14. Quaestiones disputatae de malo, q. 3, a. 9, obj. 4 (Leonine ed., XXllI, 85); ST 1-llae, q. 77, a. 2, obj. 2.

IS. De malo, q. 3, a. 9, ad 4: "Dicendum quod voluntas semper tendit in aliquid sub ratione boni. Sed quod aliquid appareat bonum quod non est bonum, quandoque quidem contingit ex hoc quod iudicium rationis est perversum etiam in universali, et tunc est peccatum ex ignorantia, quandoque vero ex hoc quod impeditur in particulari propter passionem, et tunc est peccatum ex infinnitate" (Leonine ed., XXIIl, 87); ibid., corp. art.: "Quando igitur passio est fortis circa aliquod particulare, repellit contrarium motum scientiae circa idem particulare, non solum distrahendo a consideratione scientiae, ut supra dictum est, sed etiam corrumpendo per viam contrarietatis. Et sic ille qui in forti passione est constitutus, etsi consideret aliquo modo in universali, in particulari tamen impeditur eius consideratio./I

MORAL WEAKNESS 159

the same. He acknowledges the effect of passion on particular judgment: owing to passion, what is not good nonetheless appears to be good. Yet Thomas still asserts that passion can incline the intellect against its own knowledge, for the particular judgment is itself contrary to what is known in the universaL 16

By this point it should be evident that Aquinas's account of incontinence differs significantly from Aristotle's. Two axioms alone would suggest that Thomas must depart from Aristotle's analysis: All moral acts are caused by the will; and whatever we will, we will sub ratione boni. If the incontinent is to be held even partially responsible, he must will the act he performs. But if he wills the act, he must judge it to be good, at least at this time and under these particular circumstances.

We have already seen passages in De malo and the Prima secundae that allude to this mistaken judgment. So much of Aquinas's discussion follows the text of Ethics VII that those passages where he diverges are easily overlooked. They should not be dismissed simply because he declines to make them the centerpiece of his analysis, nor can they be regarded as aberrations marking some peculiar stage of development in his thought. Whatever differences there are between the various accounts of moral weakness in Aquinas's theological works, they are comparatively small. The basic account remains the same, and the basic account describes the incontinent as judging his action to be good.

In De veritate, for example, Aquinas explains that a forceful passion can so obscure reason that the forbidden object is judged good. Indeed, the object may look as if it were good simpliciter. Though in the Secunda secundae Aquinas does not say expressly that the incontinent judges his act to be good, what Aquinas does say certainly implies such a judgment.17 What implies it is the second

16. ST I-llae, q. 77, a. 2, ad 2: "Dicendum quod hoc ipsum, quod rationi videatur in particulari aliquod bonum, quod non est bonum, contingit ex aliqua passione: et tamen hoc particulare iudicium est contra universalem scientiam rationis."

17. De veritate, q. 26, a. ID: "Similiter etiam ex viribus superioribus sit redundantia in inferiores, ut cum ad motum voluntatis intensum sequitur passio in sensuali appetitu, et ex intensa contemplatione retrahuntur vel impediuntur vires animales a suis actibus; et e converso ex viribus inferioribus fit redundantia in superiores; ut cum ex vehementia passionum in sensuali appetitu existentium obtenebratur ratio, ut iudicet quasi simplicter bonum id circa quod homo per passionem afficitur" (Leonine ed., XXII-

3, 784) ibid., q. 24, a. i (XXII-3, 685). See also ST IT-Uae, q. 155, a. 3; q. r 56, a. 3, ad I.

r60 MORAL WEAKNESS

point on which Aquinas's account of moral weakness departs from Aristotle's. According to Aquinas, the incontinent chooses the act he performs.

Here again, the divergence from Aristotle's analysis is not entirely unexpected. Aquinas teaches that the will is naturally constituted always to follow the final judgment of reason. Since he sees the incontinent as judging the proposed act to be good} one cannot be surprised that he also sees the incontinent as choosing in accordance with his judgment. Here again, though} it is easy to overlook those passages where Aquinas says expressly that the incontinent chooses his act. Yet one does find such passages in works as early as his commentary on the Sentences and as latc as the Secunda secundae. 18

The claim that the incontinent chooses to act as he does raises questions about consistency, for Aquinas says repeatedly that incontinence differs from intemperance partly on the score of choice: the incontinent sins from passion or weaknessj the intemperate sins from choice. 19 In fact, Aquinas teaches both that the incontinent chooses his act and that the incontinent does not act from choice. The two assertions become compatible once one finds that Aquinas distinguishes between peccare ex electione and peccare eligens. The first, sinning from choice, is what the intemperate doesj the incontinent does not sin from choice, The second is what the incontinent does do, and because he does sin eligens, Aquinas says that the incontinent chooses (eligit) his act or that he chooses to act,

How "peccare eligens" would best be translated is a troublesome

18. Commentum in Lib. II Sententiarum, vol. 8 of Doctoris Angelici clivi Thomae Aquinatis Opera omnia (Paris, 1873), d. 24, q. 3, a. 3, 326; STII-IIae, q. 155, a. 3·

19. See, for example, ST I-IIae, q. 78, a. 4i II-Hae, q. 156, a. 3. Though I adopt the conventional translation of peccatum as "sin," the Latin word is less specificially Christian-theological than the English. The Greek hamartia, typically translated as "error," was translated by scholastics as "peccatum" and so crops up in Latin translations of Aristotle's Ethics. The translation was not grossly misleading, for just as "ha_ martia" can mean fault, so "peccatum" can mean error. Both terms broadly signify "going wrong." While "peccatum" also signifies an offense against God, all human acts contrary to nature or right reason counted as offenses against God, and hence as peccata. See, for example, ST I-IIae, q. 71, a. 6, ad 5, where Aquinas explains that theologians consider peccatum especially as it is an offense against God, while a moral philosopher considers peccatum as it is contrary to reason.

MORAL WEAKNESS r6r

question. Grammatically, the participle eligens signifies an action contemporaneous with the main verb, peccare. So IIpeccare eligens" might be translated literally as IIto sin while choosing" or IIsinning while choosing." A danger of this translation is that the sinning and the choosing might be taken as two actions that just happen to'be done at the same time, as in IIsinging while showering" or 11 chewing gum while walking downstairs." But since the sinful act follows as a consequence of the choice, the choosing is more than an accidental concomitant of the sinning. Alas, other simple phrases have even worse drawbacks. IISinning with choice" must be ruled out because Aquinas sometimes uses /I cum electione" instead of 1/ ex electione" in describing how the intemperate sins. "Sinning in accordance with choice" must be excluded on the same grounds. The incontinent is said to sin without (sine) or against (praeter) choice, and not with (nun), in accordance with (secundum), or from lex) choice.

We shall accordingly make do with the literal translation. If "sinning while choosing" is rather odd English, "peccare eligens" is scarcely better Latin. The problem is that no ordinary phrase expresses unambiguously the peculiar relationship between what the incontinent choos,es and what he does. Fortunately, Aquinas him~ self explains how sinning from choice differs from sinning while choosing. The distinction is given explicitly in De malo and the Prima secundae, though it might well be implied in earlier works. When we say that a person sins from something (ex aliquo), Aquinas explains, we mean that the something is the first principle of the sin (or the primary origin of the sin: primum principium peccati). The incontinent is not said to sin from choice because an evil will is not the first principle of his sin; his sin is caused by passion. Hence Aquinas describes the incontinent not as sinning from choice but as sinning from passion or weakness. The intemperate is said to sin from choice because he is inclined to will evil from his own habit and flfrom himself" (ex seipso).20

20. De malo, q. 3, a. 12, ad 5: "Dicendumquod cumdicitur aliquis peccare cxaliquo, datur inte.lligi quod illud sit primum principium peccati. In eo autem qui peccat ex in

finnitate, voluntas mali non est primum principium peccati set causatur ex passione; set in eo qui peccat ex malitia, voluntas mali est primum principium peccati: quia ex se ipso per habitum proprium inclinatur in voluntatem mali, non ex aliquo exteriori principio" (Leonine ed., XXIII, 93). See also ibid., ad 11: "Dicendum quod etiam in pec-

MORAL WEAKNESS

This goes to show that the first principle of the intemperate's sin is internal in a way that the first principle of the incontinent's sin is not. Yet both must be internal in some sense, for in both cases the act is voluntary. In both cases the agent wills and even chooses his action. In what sense, then, does the incontinent's sin have an external first principle?

The short answer is that the first principle of the incontinent's sin is just as internal to the agent as the first principle of the intem~ perate's, but it is external, or at least more external, to the agent's will. The intemperate sins from a habit inclining the will to sin. She pursues bodily pleasures consistently, even when unaffected by passion. Self-indulgence has become second nature to her, so that the will plays an active role in her sinning. By contrast, the incontinent is moved to sin by her passions, with her will playing only a passive role. Self-indulgence, far from being second nature, runs counter to her own inclinations. Aquinas illustrates the difference with a striking analogy. The incontinent's will is inclined as a stone is when hurled upward; the intemperate's will is inclined as a stone is when falling downward.21

The stone hurled upward is a common example of violent motion. Its use in this context is risky, for one might infer that the incontinent wills from something like internal compulsion} and Aquinas rejects that idea. The incontinent's passions may incline her to choose badly, but they do not force her to do so. Aquinas's main point is that the incontinent has no stable disposition to sin. She wills from an inclination produced by passion, so that the first' principle of her sin is not properly internal to the will. While the suggestion of internal compulsion may be intentional, it should"not be taken too literally.

Even with this caveat, our analysis remains incomplete. The difference between sinning from choice and sinning while choosing may be explained in terms of first principles; the firs"t principles may then be explained with reference to the will; !lnd the explanation may be fleshed out by adding habit and inclination. One still

cato inf1nnitatis potest esse electio, [que tamen] non est principium peccandi, cum causetur ex pas si one. Et ideo non dicitur talis ex electione peccare, quamvis eligens peccet."

21. De malo, q. 3, a. Il, ad 3; a. 12, corp. (Leonine ed., XXIII, 90, 92).

MORAL WEAKNESS

wants to know how intemperance} which Aquinas attributes to the sense appetite, can make the first principle of sin more internal to the will than moral weakness} which Aquinas attributes to the will itself. To answer this question we must consider the role of reason, for reason is the missing link between the habit of the sense appetite and the sin done from choice.

According to Aquinas} the sense appetite influences reason}s apprehension of the end. If the sense appetite is disordered by some vicious habit, the agent will have a false conception of what is good. The end that he pursues will be bad, and however clever he may be in finding the means to that end, his choice will also be bad. This is the condition of the intemperate} who sins from choice. To sin from choice is to sin from habit-deliberately, dispassionately, and in ignorance of what is good in general.

By the same token, to act virtuously from choice is to act virtuously from habit. When Aquinas describes a person as acting from, with} or in accordance with choice, he means that the action reflects the agent's moral principles. The agent's moral principles, in turn, are bound up with his moral disposition. So when Aquinas claims that the incontinent has a good choice, does not act from choice} or acts without or against choice, he is using If choicelf in the dispositional sense. To say that the incontinent Ifhas a good choice" is to say that he has good moral principles and ordinarily chooses rightly."'Having a good choice nonetheless does not guarantee that one always chooses in accordance with his moral principles. Just as we may now and then act out of character} so (on Aquinas's account) we may now and then choose out of character.

This is emphasized in the Prima secillldae, where Aquinas says that passion leads the incontinent to choose what she would not choose in the absence of passion.22 When influenced by passion, the incontinent chooses (in the occurrent or episodic sense) an action contrary to her choice (in the dispositional sense). The proximate

22. ST I-IIae, q. 78, a. 4, ad 3: "Dicendum quod aliud est peccare eligentem, et aliud peccare ex electione: ille enim qui peccat ex passione, peccat quidem eligens, non tamen ex electione: quia electio non est in eo primum peccati principium; sed inducitur ex passione ad eligendum id quod extra passionem existens non eligeret: sed ille qui peccat ex certa malitia, secundum se eligit malum, eo modo dictum est [aa. 2-3]; et ideo electio, quae est in ipso, est principium peccati: et propter hoc dicitur ex electione peccare."

MORAL WEAKNESS

source of her bad choice-here taking If choice" in the occurrent sense, to mean a mental act performed at a particular time-is a mistaken judgment about some particular action. She judges, say, that she should taste that chocolate torte. That judgment does not reflect some bad moral principle or a perverted conception of the good, as it does in the intemperate, for the incontinent does not make a habit of self-indulgence. The incontinent's error in judgment finds its source in passion, not in some pattern of action that has worked to produce a vicious disposition. Nevertheless, the incontinent does err in the particular judgment and) in the occurrent sense, does choose badly.

Most of the masters we shall consider in this study never wrote a commentary on Aristotle's Ethics. Aquinas, however, did) and this raises an interesting question: Does his commentary on the Ethics contain his own views on moral weakness or rather his interpretation of Aristotle's views? Was Aquinas aware that his own account diverged sharply from Aristotle's?

For Aquinas's own views we must look to his theological writings. De malo and the Prima secundae are the sources most useful for our purposes. These works provide a more detailed analysis of moral weakness than that given in the Secunda secundae and in the order of composition, they are thought to be closer to A~uin~s's commentary on the Ethics than De veritate is. The basic comparison will thus be between the Ethics commentary on the one hand, and De malo and the Prima secundae on the other.

According to the Leonine editors, Aquinas's disputed questions about evil (de malo) were published in two batches. The first series, which we shall be using, appeared around I270. At about the same time Aquinas was working on the second part of the Summa. He wrote the Prima secundae toward the beginning of his second regency at Paris, that is, between January I269 and the end of 1270. The commentary on the Ethics is thought to have been completed at Paris in 127I-72, while Aquinas was also writing the Secunda secundae.23 If the dating of Aquinas's Ethics commentary is

23. The dating of De malo is discussed in the Leonine edition, XXIII, 3 ~-5 *. On the dating of the other works see Weisheipl, Friar Thomas d'Aquino, 36r-62, 380.

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correct, comparisons between his exposition of Ethics VII and the analysis in the Prima secundae should be especially interesting.

When we compare Aquinas's commentary on the .Ethics with his theological works, we find some striking differences between his accounts of the incontinent's reasoning. He follows Aristotle in attributing two major premises to the incontinent: one suggested by passion, the other reflective of the knowledge that the incontinent habitually possesses. Aquinas (mercifully) gives examples of both premises. The examples in his commentary on Ethics VII are consistent with Aristotle's aCcount. The permissive major is "Everything sweet is pleasant/l i the prohibiting major is "Nothing sweet should be tasted out of season [or perhaps between meals: extra horam]." The particular premise, which is lost under the influence of passion, is 11 At present it is out of season./I On this reading, what the incontinent does not actually consider when he decides to taste the forbidden sweets is the very circumstance that would make the general prohibition applicable.24

Note that the permissive major affirms only that sweet things are pleasant. It does not license a ,pursuit of pleasure in general and so does not suggest that the incontinent mistakes pleasure for the good. It is the intemperate who makes that mistake and who chooses in accordance with his habitual ignorance. The intemperate holds as a principle that the pleasure of the moment should always be pursued. By contrast, the incontinent does not err in the universal, though he does pursue pleasure when tempted to do so.

24. Sent. lib. Ethic., VII, lect. 3: "Circa primum considerandum est quod in incontinente ratio non totaliter obruitur a concupiscentia quin in universali habeat veram sententiam; sit ergo ita quod ex parte rationis proponatur una universalis prohibens gustare dulce inordinateJ puta si dicatur: JNullum dulce oportet gustare extra horam, J sed ex parte concupiscentiae proponitur quod omne dulce est delectabileJ quod est per se quaesitum a concupiscentia, et quia in particulari concupiscentia ligat rationemJ non assumitur sub universali rationis, ut dicatur hoc esse praeter horam, sed assumitur sub universali concupiscentiae, ut dicatur hoc esse dulceJ et ita sequitur conclusio operis; et sunt in hoc syllogismo incontinentis quatuor propositionesJ sicut iam dictum est" (Leonine ed., XLVII-2, 393). See also ibid.: "Quia hic, scilicet intemperatus, ex electione ducitur ad peccandum, quasi existimans quod semper aliquis debeat persequiJ id est accipereJ delectabile sibi praesentialiter oblatum, sed incontinens non hoc existimat, sed tamen persequitur delectabile quando est sibi praesens" (39r).

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In the Prima secundae Aquinas varies not only the example but also the forms of the major premises:

It must be said that the man who possesses knowledge in the universal is impeded by passion so that he cannot state the minor under that universal and come to a conclusion. He states the minor under the other universal, which has been suggested by passion, and he concludes under that universal. Hence the Philosopher says in Book VII of the Ethics that the incontinent's syllogism has four premises, two of them particular and two universal: one of which is from reason, such as flNo fornication should be committed," the other from passion, such as IIPleasure should be pursued. I! Passion then binds reason so that it cannot state the minor and conclude under the first majorj so while the passion lasts, it states the minor and concludes under the second.25

Here the prohibiting major is categorical: liNo fornication should be committed, I! What the incontinent loses is his understanding that the proposed act would indeed be an act of fornication. Instead of seeing it in that light, he sees it more generally, as an act likely to produce pleasure. The permissive major thus becomes operative, and the incontinent acts in accordance with that.

The permissive major itself is of greater interest. It seems that the incontinent does not believe merely that certain kinds of acts are pleasant. He believes that pleasure should be pursued. A similar reading of the permissive major appears in De malo.26 In both works the incontinent is presented as judging, albeit mistakenly, that the prohibited act is good.

This explanation of moral weakness at first seems incompatible with the commentary on Ethics VII, where Aquinas says that the incontinent is not convinced that he should act as he does. The commentary on Ethics IlI,- however, gives a different impression.

25. ST I-IIae, q. 77, a. 2, ad 4: "Dicendum quodille qui habet scientiam in universali, propter passionem impeditur ne possit sub illa universali sumere, et ad conclusionem pervenire; sed assumit sub alia universali, quam suggerit inclinatio passionis, et sub ea concIudit; unde Philosophus dicit in VII Ethic. quod syllogismus incontinentis habet quatuor propositiones: duas particulares, et duas universales; quarum una est rationis, puta nullam fomicationem esse committendam; alia est passionis, puta deleetationem esse sectandam: passio igitur ligat rationem, ne assumat et concludat sub prima; unde ea durante assumit et concludit sub secunda. JI

26. De malo, q. 3, a. 9, ad 71Leonine ed, XXIII, 87-88).

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There Thomas explains how passion can lead someone to judge an evil act good-not absolutely and in its own right, but at this partic~ ular time and under these particular circumstances. Passion can lead someone to judge that a particular evil act should be done.27 In both cases fornication is the example of an act judged good owing to the influence of passion.

The commentary on Ethics III fits nicely with Aquinas's theologi~ cal works, but as it seems inconsistent with his commentary on Ethics VII, let us now reexamine the latter. Does Aquinas actually deny that the incontinent misjudges the moral worth of his deed? Does he say that the incontinent acts without the conviction that his act is good? Although there are several remarks to that effect in the lectures on Ethics VII, they typically include some kind of qualification. For example: 11 Befole passion comes upon mm, the incontinent does not judge that he should do what he later does from passion.I/2.8 The claim here is that the incontinent does not judge the act to be good as long as his thinking remains unaffected by passion, not that he actually performs the act without believing it to be good.

In lectio 8 of Aquinas's commentary on Ethics VII, we find that he does see Aristotle's incontinent as acting with a false sense of moral conviction. Aquinas says that the incontinent person differs from the intemperate in that his false opinion of what is good lasts only as long as his passion. Intemperance is a stable disposition, while moral weakness is merely fitful:

[Aristotle] says first that one man pursues bodily pleasures excessively and against the order of right reason, yet not because he is so disposed that he is convinced that such pleasures are to be sought as good. That is the incontinent. Another, namely, the intemperate, is convinced that such pleasures are to be chosen as though they were good in themselves, and he is convinced of this because of a disposition that he has by habit. Hence the man who is convinced not by a habitual disposition but only by passion that pleasures are good in themselves-namely, the incontinent-but has a

27. Sent. lib. Ethic., Ill, lect. 3, I31Leonine ed., XLVII-I, rz6-27, I56-57). 28. Sent. lib. Ethic., VII, Ieet. 2: "Manifestum est enim quod incontinens, ante quam

passio superveniat, non existimat faciendum illud quod passionem postea bcit" ILeonine ed., XLVII-2, 385).

r68 MORAL WEAKNESS

false judgment of these in the particular, easily departs from his belief when passion wanes. By contrast, the man who judges from a habitual disposition that bodily pleasures are to be chosen in their own right-namely, the intemperate-does not easily depart from his belief.29

Aquinas stresses that intemperance is habitual} moral weakness only temporary-like a transitory vice,30 The incontinent judges from passion, though not from habit, that bodily pleasures are good in themselves.

Apart from its transitory character, does this false judgment differ from the false judgment made by the intemperate? Aquinas says again and again that the incontinent errs only in the particular, that he is not mistaken about the end. Still, there is some question as to how this claim should be taken. Aquinas might mean (i) that the incontinent is not habitually mistaken about the end. He is not disposed to see bodily pleasures as good simpliciter, though he does err in this regard when affected by passion. On the other hand, Aquinas might mean (ii) that the incontinent never judges bodily pleasures to be good simpliciteri he merely judges them good here and now, under these particular circumstances. The incontinent judges, say, that sexual intercourse with this person at this moment would be

29. Ibid., lect. 8: "Dicit ergo primo quod aliquis est quipersequitur superabundanter

et praeter ordinem rectae rationis corporales delectationes non quia sic est dispositus

ut sit ei persuasum quod tales delectationes sunt sequendae sicut bonae, et iste est incontinensj alius autem est, scilicet intemperatus, cui persuasum est quod tales delec.

tationes sint eligendae quasi per se bonae, et hoc propter dispositionem quam habet ex

habitu. Unde ille cui non est persuasum delectationes esse per se bonas ex habituali dispositione sed solum ex passione, scilicet incontinens, sed habet falsam aestimatio

nem de eis in particulari, facile recedit a sua credulitate passione cessante; ille autem

qui ex habituali dispositione aestimat delectationes corporales per se esse eligendas, scilicet intemperatus, non de facili recedit a sua credulitate" (Leonine ed., XLVII-2,

4 I 5)· 30. Ibid.: " ... Intemperantia et quaelibet malitia est continua (habet enim habitum

permanentem per quem eligit malal, sed incontinentia non est continua, quia movetur

ad peccandum incontinens solum propter passionem quae cito transit, et sic incon

tinentia est quasi quaedam malitia non continua .... Ostendit convenientiam incontinentis ad intemperatum quantum ad duo. Prima quidem quantum ad hoe quod inconti

nentia, etsi non sit malitia simpliciter, est tamen malitia secundum quid, sicut supra

dictum est quod est quasi malitia non continua; et quod non sit malitia simpliciter, patet, quia incontinentia peccat praeter electionem, malitia autem cum electione" (Le

onine ed., XLVII-2, 4I4-I51. See also STI-ilae, q. 78, a. 4.

MORAL WEAKNESS

good. He does not believe that one should have intercourse whenever that affords the greatest pleasure available, regardless of the place or one's partner.

One can find passages to support both readings, not only distributed among Aquinas's various works but even within the same work. In De veritate, for example. q. 26, a. 10 seems to support the first interpretation, while q. 24, a. 2 seems to support the second. The explanation of the incontinent's reasoning given in q. 3, a. 9 of De malo seems to support the first interpretation, for the major premise on which the incontinent acts is virtually identical with that on which the intemperate acts. Yet Aquinas says in the same place that the incontinent is ignorant only in the particular. By the same token, passages in the commentary on Ethics VII seem to support the first interpretation, while passages in the commentary on' Ethics III seem to support the second. In his commentary on Book III Aquinas says that passion can lead one to judge fornication bonum pIout nunc, yet not bonum simpliciter and secundum se. In the commentary on Ethics VII we find a passage suggesting that the incontinent is mistaken about the end, albeit temporarily, for the incontinent is said to continue in correct appraisal of the end when his passion abates. Yet in the very same passage Aquinas asserts that the incontinent is not convinced that bodily pleasures are unqualifiedly good:

[Aristotle] says that one man is the sort who exceeds the bounds of right reason to the extent that passion overcomes him, so that he does not act in accordance with right reason. Yet it does not over* come him to the extent that he becomes convinced that he should pursue bodily pleasures as though they were good in themselves without any restriction. For this reason such a man continues in the right appraisal [aestimatio] of the end upon the cessation of passion, which passes quickly. And that is the incontinent man, who on this score is better than the intemperate and is not unqualifiedly wicked, since in him the highest principle, namely the right appraisal of the end, is preserved. Nevertheless, he is wicked in a certain respect, namely, insofar as he judges [aestimat] in a particular case that something contrary to right reason should be done.ill

31. Sent. lib. Ethic., VII, lect. 8: "Et dicit quod aliquis homo est qui propter passio

nem excedit quidem a ratione recta quantum ad hoc quod passio cum superat ut non agat secundum rationem rectam, non autem superat eum quantum ad hoc ut sit ei per-

170 MORAL WEAKNESS

Aquinas's considered opinion must be something like this: The incontinent does not believe one should always pursue bodily pleasures, that such pleasures are good simpliciter and in their own right. She recognizes that certain acts are evil, regardless of the pleasure they might afford. This goes to show that she is not mistaken about the end, i.e., does not hold a bad moral principle or have a false conception of the good life. Under the influence of passion, however, the incontinent does become convinced that pleasure should be pursued. She does not recognize that the particular pleasure she chooses to pursue is evil. One might even say that at the time pleasure appears unqualifiedly good, for the incontinent is no longer thinking about restrictions on the pursuit of pleasure. The end for which she acts under these circumstances is the same as the end for which the intemperate acts. They both act for the sake of pleasure, believing that pleasure should be pursued.

Nevertheless, Aquinas still maintains that the incontinent errs only in the particular. The incontinent is not ignorant in the universal; she does not have a mistaken opinion about the good.32 The justification for these claims is twofold. First, the incontinent has habitual knowledge of the prohibiting major premise, for example, liNo fornication should be committed." She continues to hold that principle even when she loses her understanding that a certain act would indeed be fornication. In this respect she differs from the intemperate, who has no principle prohibiting illicit sexual pleasures. Second, the principle on which the incontinent acts does not reflect a habitual conviction, as it does in the intemperate. The inconti-' nent's principle is suggested by the passion that some particular object has inspired. When the passion abates, her moral judgment is restored, and the recognition of her own wrongdoing fills her with remorse. By contrast, the intemperate's thinking is so corrupted that she rejoices in her sins.33

suasum quod oporteat persequi delectationes corporales quasi per se bonas absque omni prohibitione, et ideo talis, cessante passione quae cito transit, remanet in recta aestimatione finis. Et iste est incontinens, qui propter hoc est melior intemperato et non est pravlls simpliciter, quia salvatur in eo optimum principium, scilicet recta aestimatio finis; est autem pravus secundum quid, in quantum scilicet in aliquo particulari aestimat operandum praeter rationem rectam" (Leonine ed., XLVTI-2, 41SJ.

32. See, for example, STII-IIae, q. 156, a. 3, ad 1.

33. STI-IIae, q. 77, a. 2; II-IIae, q. lS6, a. 3·

MORAL WEAKNESS III

In brief, if what we take to be an individual's end is the conception of the good that reflects her considered opinion and ordinarily governs her behavior, then the incontinent is not mistaken about the end. Her appraisal of the end in these particular circumstances nonetheless is mistaken; she acts for the sake of that end; and she does so with the conviction that she should act as she does. Perhaps one could say that the end of the action is mistaken, though the end of the agent-that is, the end that distinguishes moral weakness as a disposition and thus makes the agent incontinent instead of intemperate-that end is right.

According to this interpretation, there is no. substantive difference between Aquinas's various treatments of the incontinent's reasoning. The account given in his commentary on the Ethics differs only in emphasis from the accounts in De malo, the Summa theologiae, and even De veritate. Aquinas attributes to Aristotle the same view that he himself holds: When the incontinent acts, he believes his action to be good. Whether or not this distortion of Aristotle's views is intentional, it is surely significant. For in claiming that Aristotle'S incontinent misjudges his action to be good, Aquinas has gone some way towards restoring the Socratic account of moral weakness.

As we know, Aquinas also holds that the incontinent's erroneous judgment leads him to choose the prohibited action. Though the incontinent.,does not act from choice, he nonetheless chooses to act as he does. Only part of this doctrine is supported by Ethics VII. Aristotle claims that the incontinent does not act from choice, but he never says that the incontinent chooses his action. Aquinas's commentary accordingly stresses that the incontinent does not act from choice, that the incontinent acts against his choice or without choice. Nowhere in his commentary on Ethics VII does Aquinas say that the incontinent chooses the act he performs. The most Aquinas claims is that the incontinent's choice is "corrupted" and that he wills evi1.34 From this one might well infer that the incontinent chooses to act as he does; yet Aquinas is careful, when explaining Aristotle's views, not to describe the incontinent as choosing.

While Aquinas does see Aristotle's incontinent as misjudging his action to be good, he apparently does not find in Ethics VII what he

34. Sent. lib. Ethic., VII, lect. 10 (Leonine ed., XLVTI-2, 421).

172 MORAL WEAKNESS

would regard as the implication: that the incontinent chooses the act. All Aquinas attributes to Aristotle is the denial that the incontinent acts from choice. This supports Aquinas's own claim that the incontinent does not sin ex electione. The companion claim-that the incontinent nonetheless does sin eligens, that he does choose the act he performs-is found only in Aquinas's theological works.

On some points Aquinas's interpretation of the Ethics seems so opposed to a literal reading that one wonders how the divergence could possibly have escaped his notice. For instance, where does he get the idea that Aristotle's incontinent judges his act to be goOd?35 Did Aquinas's own ideas about moral weakness simply blind him to the obvious sense of the text?

One should not forget that the obvious sense of the text was less obvious in the Latin translation used by Aquinas and his contemporaries. Voluntas, for example, was the Latin translation of boulesis. Voluntarium, the translation of hekousion, would thus seem connected with voluntas. Judging from the Latin, there would be a prima facie case for making the will the cause of all voluntary acts.

Aquinas does indeed defend that position in his commentary on Ethics Ill. Where Aristotle argues that acts proceeding from irrational passions should count as voluntary, Aquinas explains that all human acts are caused by the will. Because human beings do not act on anger or concupiscence without the consent of rational appetite (that is, will), acts done from passion are voluntary and blameworthy.36 So says Aquinas. Yet Aristotle's point is that the voluntary should not be restricted to acts done from rational appetit~. Acts done from irrational appetite should be included as well.

No doubt the Latin translation and Aquinas's own views help to account for his reading of Aristotle, but there are also problems with Aristotle's teachings that Aquinas was probably trying to solve. One problem is why animals are not morally responsible for their actions. According to Aristotle, an action need not be chosen for the agent to be blameworthy: it suffices that the act be voluntary (II3SaI9-23). Incontinent action, which is voluntary but not cho-

35. The idea that the incontinent judges his act to be good, while very difficult to

square with Ethics VII, might nonetheless receive some support from De aroma Ill,

433b8- IO•

36. Sent. lib. Ethic., Ill, lect. 4jLeonine ed., XLVII-I, 130).

MORAL WEAKNESS 173

sen, is accordingly blamed. On the other hand, Aristotle insists that animals as well as human beings act voluntarily I II II b6-9). And this leaves one wondering why we should blame the incontinent for tasting the forbidden sweets when we do not blame the family cat for tasting the forbidden fish. By maintaining that all human acts are from the will, a faculty that lower animals do not possess, Aquinas can explain why we blame the incontinent but not the cat.

This solution generates new dilemmas. If incontinent action is chosen, and if the will chooses only what reason presents as good, moral weakness must reflect a mistaken moral judgment-not merely the judgment that the proposed act is pleasant, but that it is good. Aquinas's account of how passion influences imagination and judgment must therefore carry a heavy burden: it must explain not only how the prohibiting moral principle is obscured but also how a false sense of moral conviction is generated. The corruption of reason must also be culpable, otherwise moral weakness would not be blameworthy at all.

What could the incontinent do to prevent his loss of understanding? Since his ignorance arises from the influence of passion, he must be able to control passion, or imagination, or both. In the Prima secundae Aquinas attributes this ability to reason: "Reason can shut out passion by turning to other thoughts, or can prevent the effect of passion from following, since the [bodily] members are not applied to the deed except through the consent of reason.,,37 Though reason cannot control passion directly, it can at least control it to the extent that it can control imagination, for if imagination follows passion, passion, in turn, is strengthened by imagination.

In sum, Aquinas holds the incontinent responsible to the extent that the incontinent retains control Over his imagination. Insofar as he can avert his thinking from the object of his passion, his judgment, and hence his action, is free. Insofar as his reason is bound by passion, he is excused. Although the will plays a role, Aquinas

37. ST I-lIae, q. 77, a. 7: "Quandoque vera passio non est tanta quod totaliter intercipiat usum rationis. Et tunc ratio potest passionem excludere, divertendo ad alias

cogitationes, vel impediIe ne suum consequatur effectum, quia membra non appli

cantur operi nisi per consensum rationis, ut supra dictum est." See also I-IIae, q. Il, a.

7; De malo, q. 7, a. 6, .ad B (Leonine ed., XXIII, 175-76).

174 MORAL WEAKNESS

consistently emphasizes that the incontinent acts in ignorance, that the incontinent's reasoning has been twisted by his desire for the forbidden object. Because the will follows the judgment of reason, the central problem is how reason is corrupted, not how the will can be weak.

Moral Weakness and Evil

The idea that all human actions are traceable to the will marks a substantial departure from Aristotle's psychology. The idea that we always will sub ratione boni marks an equally important departure from Aristotle's ethics. This scholastic axiom is so familiar that one can easily overlook its significance; and yet its significance can hardly be overestimated, since debates of the latc thirteenth, cen· tury often have the axiom as their starting point. By and large, scholastics took it for granted that they were arguing about Aristotle's views or whether Aristotlels views are compatible with Christian doctri~el or both. In many cases their disputes actually had more to do with the teachings of Socrates than the teacbings of Aristotle. The difference between the historical Aristotle and the scholastic Aristotle should be kept in mind: it helps to explain some of the vehemence in thirteenth-century controversies about the will.

Voluntarists typically argue that even if the incontinent does act in ignorance, the ignorance is voluntary and hence does not excuse his wrongdoing. Some accordingly evince Httle interest in the precise effects of passion. When the primary aim is to establish that the incontinent should not be excusedl a detailed psychological analysis is not absolutely required. The fact that the incontinent does not resist the inclination of passion is no evidence that he could not have done so. All that was needed was the will to resist. What difference does it make whether that willing affects imagination, or reason, or passion itself? It is the will that countsl and no impairment of body or mind can remove the will's ability to resist temptation.

This is not to say that voluntarists offer no aItemativ'e to Thomistic psychology, but only that the starting point for their discussions lies elsewhere. Psychological theories are developed to preserve the willis freedom, and the willis freedom is defended primarily in an effort to safeguard moral responsibility. Above and beyond the ethical concerns, there is a general conviction that intellectualism,

MORAL WEAKNESS I75

even in its Thomistic form, contradicts the facts of experience. It surely seems that we sometimes do evil without mistaking evil for good. Why should we need some elaborate theory about the clouding of the mind to explain such a commonplace phenomenon? What reason have we to believe that someone who acts against her own better judgment is at all like a drunk or a madwoman? The axiom that we always will sub ratione boni plainly requires some explanation. We shall begin with WaIter of Bruge and continue in chronological order, examining efforts to explain in what sense, if any, we always will what we believe to be good.

Sub Ratione Boni

Waiter of Bruges shares with most thinkers of his day the belief that deliberation ends in a judgment by the intellectj choice is a separate act by the will. Like many voluntarists, WaIter also denies that intellect's judgment determines the will's choice, and yet he does not want to sever all connection between choice and deliberation. He accordingly holds that deliberation ends in a judgment (( according to the rules of truth and law." In the face of that judgment, the will not only retains the freedom to choose or not, it also retains the freedom to choose something other than what reason judges should be chosen. Specifically, the will can command the intellect to decide in favor of some other action. Since decision, unlike judgment, is lIan act of reason at the command [nutus] of will," the intellect will decide as the will bids it. The will can then choose in accordance with that decision.3s

WaIter's argument for the will's control over decision represents an effort to preserve the notion of the good as the object of the will

38. Quaest. disp., q. s, resp.: " ... Est maior libertas voluntads, ut voluntas est, quam potentiae rationis, ut rationalis est, immo perfectam libertatem habet voluntas in se et a se quod voluerit velle quod communicat aliis .... Tertio ratio habet plenam libertatem secundum actionem acceptami postquam enim ratio praecedens, conferens alterum esse faciendum iudicaverit, remanet indifferentia in omni rationali potentia et etiam in voluntate, puta: iudicatum est a esse volendum ut melius vel b ut minus bonumi voluntas autem nee a nee b vult adhuc cum effectu, sed imperat rationem arbitrari cesse volendum et tunc c vult et prosequitur, dimissis a, b, licet iudicata essent esse meliora quam c. Arbitrium autem est actus radonis ad nutum voluntatis, sed iudicare est secundum regulas veritatis et legis, propter quod voluntas a Sanctis melius vocatur liberum arbitrium quam a Philosophis liberum iudicium" (PB X, 521.

MORAL WEAKNESS

without concluding that we always will what we believe to be best. While he is ready to admit that some deficiency or error in reason always precedes a bad choice, he denies that that deficiency or error in any way causes or excuses a bad choice. Waiter accordingly gives the will control over decision, the intellectual act that immediately precedes choice:

When [the will] acts by choosing what is evil or choosing to do nothing or to do what is less good, it wills for the sake of something better, which it itself decides is better at that time, as Adam didnot absolutely, nor having some passion that blinded reason, as the intemperate has, nor even having a passion that would incline appetite to movement and take away judgment in the particular, which happens in the [in]continent, as is evident in Book VII of the Ethics; but it was decided only by the freedom of the will in commanding reason that it would be better for him to eat from the forbidden fruit tree, against God's command, than to cause his wife's displeasure. And any man, even a good one, can experience this in himself any day, when, of two good actions proposed, he chooses the less good, or even the bad, deciding that it is for him in some way good.39

What is the relation between reason's prohibiting judgment and the permissive decision commanded by the will? Does the judgment continue to stand? Or does the decision supplant the judgment? It is difficult to say, for Waiter never indicates what form the judgment takes. By the same token, he does not explain whether the decision commanded by the will reflects any principle at all. The example suggests that Adam's fatal principle might have been

39. Ibid., q. 6, ad r4: "Quando agit eligendo malum vel nihil agere vel minus bonum

agere, vult propter aliquid melius, quod ipsa arbitratur melius ut tunc, non simpliciter, sicut Adam, non habens aliquam passionem, quae excaecaret rationem, ut habet in

temperatus, et etiam nullam habens passionem, quae inclinaret appetitum ad motum

et tolleret in particulari iudicium quod contingit in continente [sicL ut patet VII EthicorUIn, sed sola voluntatis libertate imperante rationem arbitratus est esse melius sibi

comedere de pomo vetito contra Dei praeceptum quam contristari delicias uxoris suae,

quod et quotidie quilibet etiam bonus potest experiri in seipso, quando duobus propositis bonis eligit minus bonum vel etiam malum, illud sibi arbitrans aliquo modo bo

num" (PB X, 65). The suggestion that Adam was not deceived by the serpent, but ate

the forbidden fruit in order to please Eve, is found in Augustine's De civitate Dei XIV,

cap. II-I3.

MORAL WEAKNESS 177

something like liMy wife's pleasure should always be promoted." On the other hand, Waiter stresses that the decision is not for the sake of something that seems absolutely better, but only better at the time; so it might be a mistake to attribute to Adam some universal principle dictating conjugal consideration.

Decision seems to be a final practical judgment about what is best for the agent here and now, yet which need not have any foundation in principle. Intellectual apprehension is a sine qua non of choice; deliberation is not. In this regard WaIter enunciates one of the voluntarist theses inspired by Bernard of Clairvaux: "Although the will does not command or act without reason, it does indeed act against reason's judgment.,,4o Waiter says that experience testifies to this: reason recommends one course of action, but the will does the opposite. Should Aristotle's authority be needed, Waiter believes that Book VII of the Ethics will serve the purpose. Aristotle teaches that the incontinent has sound reason, which judges that a base deed should be avoided; but because the incontinent has a corrupt desire, he chooses that deed.41

WaIter'S reference to "sound reason" requires some explanation. In fact, he accepts Aristotle's (and likewise Aquinas's) description of how the incontinent "knows": in the universal, not in the particular, habitually, not actually, and as a sleepwalker or a drunk, not as someone conscious and sober. The conclusion one might draw~ that the incontinent lacks the knowledge necessary for moral responsibility~is decidedly unacceptable.42. Though the incontinent might well fail to recognize that his action is evil, his ignorance, Waiter argues, is his own fault:

The incontinent has sufficient knowledge for judging that what appears good to him is evil and should be avoided. He knows in the universal that all fornication is evil and should be avoided-from which he could conclude, if he willed, that for him it is also evil and to be avoided. Hence, he does not lack knowledge except because he wills, on account of which he sins voluntarily.43

40. Ibid., ad 10: "Praeterea, licet voluntas non imperet vel agat sine ratione, bene

tamen agit contra rationis iudicium, secundum Bemardum ... " (PB X, 63).

41. Quaest. disp., q. 4, resp. (PB X, 39). 42. Ibid., obj. II (PB X, 36). 43. Ibid., ad I I: JJ Ad undecimum die quod incontinens habet sufficientem scientiam

ad iudicandum sibi apparens bonum esse malum et esse evitandum; scit enim in universali omnem fornicationcm esse malam et vitandam; ex quo concIudere potest, si

MORAL WEAKNESS

The more natural conclusion would be that the incontinent lacks knowledge because he fails to will, that is, because he fails to apply the universal prohibition to his own situation. Perhaps what WaIter means by the incontinent's lacking knowledge because he wills is that the incontinent consents to the urgings of passion. Many mas~ ters of the period regarded consent as an act of'the will, especially the act by which the will yields to temptation.

WaIter'S remarks, on moral weakness resemble his discussion of Adam's sin in more than their emphasis on the will. In both cases the agent sins by not applying a universal prohibition to his own actions. What Adam knows to be evil he decides is not evil for him; what the incontinent knows to be evil he does not conclude is evil for him. We may see here a conception of moral principles quite dif~ ferent from Aristotle's conception, but we shall postpone discus~ sion of this problem until we consider texts where it is more clearly in evidence.

Henry of Ghent tries much harder than WaIter to reconcile his own views with Aristotle's teachings. In q. 17 of his Quodlibet I he discusses in great detail the analysis of moral weakness in Ethics VII. The problem, as Henry sees it, is whether passion clouds reason directly or only by means of the will's consent. One opinionHenry refrains from naming Aquinas-says that the disorder of the will proceeds from the disorder of reason, so that passion clouds reason}s judgment and the will acts in accordance with the error of the intellect. Reason stands between the sense appetite and the will and thus constitutes the principal cause of the incontinent's deed.44

Against this opinion Henry argues strongly for the will's freedom to act against the intellect's judgment. The apprehension of reason is only a sine qua non of volition, and the will's object (as final cause) moves the will merely in some metaphorical sense. Since we have already reviewed arguments for the willis freedom in relation to the intellect, we shall pass over them. Suffice it to say that Adam's fall is again offered as evidence that we can indeed sin without any prior error of reason. According to Henry, the Catholic Church teaches

vellet, etiam sibi esse malam et vitandam, et ideo non caret sdcntia nisi quia vult, propter quod voluntarie peceat" (PE X, 45).

44. Quodl. I, q. 17 (Macken cd., V, 124).

MORAL WEAKNESS I79

that the first man} without any interference by passion} acted directly against the judgment of right reason.45

The will's ability to act directly against reason is crucial} for Henry wants to establish that the incontinent's ignorance is caused by the disorder of his will. Passion does not cloud reason directlYi it does so by means of the will's concurrence with the sense appetite, so that reason is affected only because the will consents to the deed urged by passion.46 While the intemperate's deed might be explained by his mistaking pleasure for the good, the incontinent's deed cannot be explained in the same way. Aristotle himself} Henry reminds us, describes the incontinent as one who pursues pleasure against reason. Unlike the intemperate, the incontinent is not persuaded that he should pursue pleasure, that pleasure-seeking is good. 47

This is not to say that the incontinent sins knowing full well that he is sinning. On the contrary, Henry argues that the incontinent does not know when he tastes the forbidden sweets that it is wrong to taste them. The incontinent did know that it was wrong before he tasted them, and he lost that knowledge only by consenting to passion. His ignorance is therefore a voluntary ignorance, just as the intemperate's ignorance is a voluntary ignorance. The main difference is that the intemperate sins by choice from the outset, whereas the incontinent only ends sinning by choice. Upon his consent to passion, he becomes convinced that the forbidden deed is actually good: he develops the same false conviction that the intemperate has habitually. So when the incontinent finally tastes the forbidden sweets, he sins eligibiliter.48

At first blush it would seem that the Socratic account of inconti-

45. Ibid. (Macken ed., v, 128-29). 46. Ibid. (Macken ed., v, 138, 146-47). 47. Ibid. (Macken ed., V, 145-46). 48. Quodl. I, q. 17: "Vult ergo quod pro hora actionis non est eipe1suasumnec cligi·

biliter agit, sed passione convictus, ut quasi passioni imputetur et vis sit ei facta ante ignorantiam. Et ideo peceatum mud non ex ignorantia nee ex electione, sed ex pas si one proprie dicitur factum, et quoad hoc peccatum, peecans est ignorans ignorantia con· comitante pcccatum tamquam poena peccati. Sed postquam intravit ignorantia, tunc persuasum est ei ratione erronea, quia moechari bonum est. Et tunc propter ignorantiam peccat et eligibiliter peccat peccato voluntario, ad quod agendum sibi necessario conclusum est, ut dictum est prius. Et omnis sic peccans est ignorans ignorantia quae praeccdit et est causa peecati sequentisi ipsa ta~en sequitur aliud peccatum primae

180 MORAL WEAKNESS

nence has been pushed out the front door only to be let in at the back, for Henry does see the incontinent as making a mistaken judgment about what is good. On his reading of Aristotle, the incontinent's two major premises both not only embody conceptions of the good but embody conceptions that are straightforwardly opposed. One affirms that /IN othing sweet or pleasant should be tasted,lI the other that "Whatever is .sweet and pleasant should be tasted. I! Henry's reading of the prohibiting major is suggested by Aristotle's claim that the incontinent acts in some sense "under the influence of reason and opinion, and of opinion not contrary in itself, but only incidentally-for the appetite is contrary and not the opinion-to right reason. 11 The parenthetical remark about appetite can be taken to mean that the prohibiting major is directly opposed to the desire to taste something sweet or pleasant, and hence must be a universal prohibition against tasting sweets qua sweets or what is pleasant qua pleasant. The same consideration has led James Bogen and Julius Moravcsik to read the suppressed major premise as "Sweets are not to be tasted. 11

49

Henry also holds that the incontinent arrives at the right particular judgment. The incontinent knows that this particular sweet should not be tasted and retains his understanding of that prohibition until his will consents to passion. Only then does he lose sight of the correct moral judgment. He errs first concerning the particular, then concerning the universal; he comes to believe that the proposed act is good, and he behaves accordingly. And so, Henry concludes, everyone who sins has an ignorance that precedes and is the cause of the following sin, though the ignorance itself follows some sin of the will. 50 The tasting of the sweets is preceded and caused by ignorance of what should be done, but that ignorance is itself caused by the will's sinful consent. The will's consent is not itself caused by some other disorder of reason, nor does some error of reason pre-

voluntatis malae" (Macken ed., V, I46). See also ibid.: "Quod si omnino nesciret, non ei imputaretur, nunc autem, quia scit quid facit (ut moechus quia ahenam cognoscit) et cuius gratia facit (quia propter delectationemJ, licet pro hora ignoret quia malum est quod facit (cuius ignorantiae ipse voluntarie causa est), cuius operationis amodo causa est ignorantia; propter ignorantiam enim pro hora passionis ehgibiliter operatm malum, sicut intemperatus ab initio" (Macken ed., V, 142).

49. Ibid. (Macken ed., V, I35); EN II47a35-II47b2j cf. Bogen and Moravcsik, rr6-20. 50. Quodl. I, q. I? (Macken ed., V, 146), qtd. above, n. 47.

MORAL WEAKNESS I8I

cede the will's consent. In Henry's opinion, the error of reason is sim,ultaneous with the disorder of the will. The will's consent causes disorder in the intellect but does not chronologically precede it.5I

One can see how Henry might be driven to this solution. On the one hand, he thinks Christian doctrine proclaims the heedom of the will to act against the judgment of right reason. Adam's case merely proves a more general point: either the will is the first cause of sin or there is no sin. On the other hand, Henry thinks that whatever we will, we will sub ratione boni, that no one wills what is evil without seeing the action as somehow good. Every sin must therefore reflect, and yet not be caused by, some kind of ignorance or misjudgment. To hold otherwise, Henry warns, is to follow the teachings of Socrates. 52. Henry accordingly concludes that the error of reason must be simultaneous with and caused by the disorder of the will. If this leaves the cause of the will's perversity unexplained, so be it. There is no other cause than the will itself-nor could there be, on Henry's view, if one believes that sin is possible.53

The arguments in his Quodlibet I explain how Henry could have approved the propositio magistralis as well as the 1277 condemnation without seeing the proposition as a retreat. From his standpoint, the formulation of the proposition-Non est malitia in voluntate nisi sit error vel aliqua nescientia in ratione-was hardly ideal. If taken to mean that intellectual deficiency causes evil in the will, the proposition would be contrary to both the condemnation and his own views; but if taken literallYI as only the assertion that intellectual deficiency always accompanies evil in the will, the proposition would be quite compatible with Henry's teachings.

Henry's own position was nevertheless a problematic compro-

51. Ibid.: "Quod autem ex parte voluntatis qua debet homo esse practicus, prius deordinetur incontinens (prius, dico, non duratione sed causalitate): simul enim fuit error rationis et deordinatio voluntatis), quam ex parte rationis qua debet homo esse sciens, aperte patet ex determinatione Philosophi, circa rationis deordinationem ex passionel! (Macken ed., V, 147).

52. The reading of Ethics VII that Henry attributes to his opponents is one he says places Aristotle in agreement with Socrates. See Quodl. I, q. I7 (Macken ed., V, I2.4-25).

53. For Henry's efforts to reconcile Aristotle's ethics and psychology with Augustine's understanding of sin see Quodl. I, q. 16 (Macken ed., V, ro8-12).

182 MORAL WEAKNESS

mise between competing claims. In the years following the condemnation, other masters usually leaned toward one side or the other. Those favoring a more voluntarist account of weakness and evil could cite the I277 condemnation and ignore the propositio magistralis. Those £avoring a more intellectualist account could use the magisterial proposition to declare that some of the I277 articles had been nullified. We turn now to some of the arguments advanced by masters more sympathetic to Henry of Ghent than to Giles of Rome and Thomas Aquinas.

Sinning without Ignorance

The Correctorium fratris Thomae demonstrates less interest in moral weakness than in the human capacity for evil. William criticizes Aquinas for denying the obvious: that If the will can sin in willing and choosing without any deficiency of reason in attending to the universal good or to what is useful to the particular good, or by the removal of judgment by violent passions in the lower powers."S4 How do we know that the will can choose badly without any deficiency of reason? According to William, introspection should suffice:

Anyone can experience this in himself, that when reason dictates truly that something is a sin, like fornication or something else, nevertheless, with that judgment standing, the will can move the body to sin and can commit sin. If you say that [the will cannot do this 1 unless reason is led through the command of the will to judge that this should be done, then the perverse command in the will will still be prior to the bad judgment in reason.55

As one might expect, William presents Adam1s fall as evidence that people can sin without any intellectual deficiency. Adam1s

54. Correctorium fr. Thomae, a. 82: "Item interius maxime contingit videre quod potest voluntas peccare in volendo et eligendo absque defectu rationis in procuratione universalis boni vel utilis ad particulare bonum, vel interceptione iudicii per vehementiam passionis in viribus inferioribus" (Glorieux ed., 332).

55. Ibid.: "Praeterea quilibet potest experiri in seipso quod ratione dictante vere aliquid esse peccatum, ut fomicari vel aliquid aliud, tamen voluntas durante ipso iudicio potest movere corpus ad peccatum et committere peccatum. Si dicas quod non nisi ratio inducta per imperium voluntatis iudicet illud faciendum, sic magis prius fuit perversum imperium in voluntate quam malum iudicium in ratione" (Glorieux ed., 332).

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ease establishes that 11 an error in reason does not necessarily precede sin in the will, but vice versa." Where Henry argues that disorder-in the intellect must be simultaneous with, though caused by, disorder in the will, William argues that disorder in the will is compatible with right reason. Either he is unaware of the propositio magistralis or he chooses to ignore it: the COlrectorium provides no firm evidence on one side or the other. At most we might take what William does not say as evidence that he did indeed know of the magisterial proposition. Without meaning to suggest that the argumentum a silentio is in any way decisive, let me briefly explain how it goes.

In criticizing Aquinas's teachings on the relation between sin and intellectual deficiency, William alludes to a thesis condemned in I277: IIIf reason is right, the will is right." Although he thinks Aquinas defended that thesis, he does not call it "condemned," 11 erroneous," "heretical," or anything in that vein. William merely argues that the thesis is a nonsequitur: "Thus it does not follow: Reason is right; therefore, the will is right and good. But if this does not follow, then the opposite of the consequent can stand with the antecedent, namely, a will that is not right with right reason."S6 Recall that the propositio magistralis-"There is no evil in the will unless there is error or some lack of knowledge in reason"-blocks WilHam's inference. From this one might conclude that William was unaware of the magisterial proposition-a distinct possibility, since we do not know whether ~e was at Paris in I277 or where he was when he composed the Correctorium: whether at Paris, or in England, or somewhere else. On the other hand, if WilIiam was unaware of the magisterial proposition, why did he not present "If reason is right, the will is right" as a thesis condemned as erroneous and his own inference as the logical, and hence equally mandatory, conclusion? Because the refusal to cry "heresy" is so strongly out of

56. Ibid.: "Constat autem secundum fidem ipsam quod in Adam non fuit poena ante culpam; nec est culpa nisi in voluntate vel non sine culpa voluntatis. Ergo cum error omnis sit poena, prius fuit erroris poena in intellectu Adae quam culpa; quod est falsum et erroneum. Ergo non necessaria prius est error in ratione quam peccatum in voluntate, sed e converso .... Non sequitur ergo: ratio est recta, ergo voluntas est recta vel bona. Si autem hoc non sequitur, ergo oppositum consequentis potest stare cum antecedente, scilicet voluntas non recta cum ratione rectal! (Glorieux ed., 333J.

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character, one might suspect that William knew his own doctrinal support to be shaky.

All we can say with confidence is that William usually empha~ sizes the harmony, not the conflict, between Aristotle and the faith. The will's capacity for evil turns out to be no exception. After all, Aristotle says that honor and good repute are among life's greatest pleasures, that honor is a pleasure of the soul, and that the love of honor pertains to the mind and does not affect the body. Since William wants to prove that we can sin without any deficiency in rea~ son or any interference by sensual passion, he proposes a case where someone is tempted not by sex or sweets but by honor. Suppose that a man's intellect tells him two things: that little or no honor is ben~ eficial to salvation, and that honor and human favor are pleasant. On the second point as well as the first his thinking is correct. Equally important, the principle that discourages or prohibits the pursuit of human honors cannot be carried away by some passion of the sense appetite. (As Aristotle says, the desire for honor does not pertain to the lower part of the soul.) So sensual passions could not obscure the agent's judgment, and yet he might very well choose to seek human honors for the pleasure they afford. Thus, William concludes, it is clear that the will can sin in willing and choosing without any deficiency of reason.57

We saw earlier that .william believes the will is "moved" by the good, that the good is the object of the will. The honor-seeking agent must therefore be seeking honor or pleasure qua good instead of merely qua pleasant. William1s argument accordingly suggests that the good the will pursues need not be, or even be regarded as, a moral good. Moral goods are just one of several kinds of goods that

57. Ibid.: "Pono ergo quod intellectus dicat: honor vel nihil vel parum prodest ad salutem; idem pono quod dicat de complacentia hominum propter se. Sic dicendo constat quod verum dicit. Item pono quod intellectus dicat: honor et complacentia delectabilia sunt. Constat quod adhuc dicendo hoc, non errat sed verum dicit. Praeterea illud iudicium rationis non potest intercipi per passionem virlum inferiorum in concupiscendo ista, quia, ut dictum est, concupiscentia istorum ad vires inferiores non spectat sed ad solam mentem. HUs itaque sic se habentibus, constat quod voIuntas non potest appetere et eligere honores humanos et compIacentiam hominis propter delectationem quae est in eis. Ex his manifestum est quod potest voluntas peccare in volendo et eligendo absque aliquo defectu rationis modis praedictis" (GIorieux ed., 332); cf. EN

1II7b29-31, Rhetoric 1371a8-9. This choice of example finds an interesting parallel in J. Annas, "Aristotle on Pleasure and Goodness," in A. Rorty, ed., Essays on AIistot-

MORAL WEAKNESS I85

the will can pursue, and someone might well choose a nonmoral good over a moral one.

Among the problems raised by this position are the nature of moral principles and the precise form of a particular moral judg~ ment. Even if William's example of the defeated principle is taken without any qualification-for example, as liNo honor is beneficial to salvation"-the principle still appears more on the order of a speculative principle than a practical principle, The disagreement with Aquinas thus seems to spring partly from divergent concep~ dons of moral principles and the particular judgments reflecting them. The divergence is even more manifest in the arguments of Peter Olivi.

True to form, Olivi aims his remarks on moral weakness at the analysis given by Aristotle. He reports Aristotle's teachings on the practical syllogism, on the binding of reason by passion, and on the compatibility of habitual knowledge with actual ignorance. After declaring that these views are heretical-since God would not have punished Adam and Satan so severely except for "great and inexcusable guilt/-Olivi proceeds to a point~by~point rejection of Ar~ istotle's account, or at least what he takes to be Aristotle's ac~ count. 58

Olivi's objections are much the same as his predecessors'. The in~ continent could compare the proposed act with the prohibiting uni~ versal, and if he actually did, he would conclude that the act is wrong. He would necessarily arrive at the correct particular judg~ ment,59 Passion cannot bind reason without the will's consent, for reason has no direct connection with the sense appetite:

It is agreed that sensual desires do not drag about the higher will, insofar as it is free, except by means of its consent .... Further~ more, reason is connected directly not to the lower appetite but to the higher. Therefore, it is never bound directly through the lower appetite. Nor can it be said that through the higher [i.e., the will], it is bound to that [passion] unless the will first consented to it.60

le's Ethics, 294-98, where the author claims Aristotle sidesteps lithe really hard cases" by confining akrasia to bodily pleasures.

58. Quaest. in If Sent., q. 86 (Jansen ed., III, 187-89). 59. Ibid. fJansen ed., III, 190-91). 60. Ibid.: "Constat etiam quod sensuales concupiscentiae non trahunt voluntatem

superiorem, in quantum est libera, nisi per intermedium eius consensum .... UIterius,

r86 MORAL WEAKNESS

Here Olivi spells out a psychological principle on which much of his analysis is based: the intellect has no immediate connection with the sense appetite, thinking no immediate connection with passion. As Henry of Ghent argued that passion can obscure reason only by means of the will's consent, so too does Olivi: If As long as the will is not bound, neither is reason .... When the will dissents from that act as from an evil, reason thinks that that act is evi1."61 By the same token, when reason's judgment is not to its liking, the will can move the intellect to present the action in a different light. So if the incontinent loses his ~nderstanding of what is right in a particular situation, it is because his will has consented to passion.

The "if I! is significant, for Olivi believes that the will's consent to passion prevents reason from thinking about the wrongness of the deed only if that consent includes the refusal to think. Such a refusal, he emphasizes, need not be involved in consent. 62 As no de~ ficiency in reason necessarily precedes sin in the will, none neces~ sarily accompanies or follows sin in the will. Olivi's position is the same as William's, and yet his example is more instructive. When criticizing Aristotle's account of moral weakness, Olivi gives as the prohibiting universal, "All fornication is shameful and forbidden by God and deserving of eternal punishment," or more succinctly, 11 All fornication is illicit." If the incontinent compared the proposed act with this universal, Olivi argues, it would be impossible for him not to understand that the act is illicit. The conclusion follows neces~ sarily: (/ All fornication is illicit; but this action of mine is fornication; therefore, this fornication of mine is illicit. II

&'>,

ratio non connectitur immediate appetitui inferiori, sed superiori. Ergo nunquam per inferiorem immediate ligatur. Nec potest dici quod per superiorem ligetur ad illum, nisi prius consenserit in illum. Ergo saltem ante primum consensum in ilIum ratio non potest poni esse ligata" nansen ed., Ill, 191).

61. Ibid.: "Quamdiu voluntas non est ligata, nec ratio .... Quando voluntas dissentit ab ilIo tanquam a malo, ratio cogitat illud esse malum" nansen ed., llI, 193); cf. Henry of Ghent, Quodl. I, q. I7 (Macken cd., V, II9).

62. Ibid.: "Item, per consensum superioris voluntatis ratio non ligatur ab aliquo cogitando, nisi in illo consensu includatur noluntas cogitandi illa aut noluntas movendi se ad illa cogitanda. Constat autem quod taUs noluntas non necessaria includitur in praefato consensu ... " (Jansen ed., Ill, 191).

63. Quaest. in 1I Sent., q. 86: "Tertio, convincit hoc id ipsum Aristoteles concedit, scilicet, quod peccans potest universalem propositionem boni peccato suo contrarii actualiter sciIe et cogitare. Ex hoc enim sequitur quod consimiliter potest pa:i:ticularem

MORAL WEAKNESS

By this point it should be evident that the moral principle that fails to govern the individual's behavior is, by Arist"otelian stan~ dards, more speculative than practical. It reveals the agent's cognitive ability to see that certain kinds of acts are forbidden. But if the principle has not been internalized-that is, if it does not reflect what the agent ordinarily desires and believes good or bad fOl himthere is nothing to deter him from acting against it. Even if he applied the principle to his particular situation and reached the appropriate judgment (liThe fornication I am considering is illicit"), that judgment would not directly supply a motive for resisting temptation. It would be necessary to understand not only that the action is forbidden but also that it will be punished, and perhaps that the punishment will bring more in the way of pain than the proposed sexual liaison will bring in the way of pleasure. Then one would indeed have a motive for resisting temptation, if only a self-interested one.

As Lottin points out, much of the voluntarist opposition to Aquinas arises from a different conception of moral judgments. What Olivi and like-minded masters regard as a moral judgment closely approximates what Aquinas calls a judgment of conscience.64 Conscience judges what is commanded or forbidden, and one may act against conscience without any error of conscience. One may judge that sexual relations with this attractive man would be illicit and yet clin',b straight into bed with him. Such behavior is possible, on the Thomistic view, precisely because judgments of conscience are

cogitare, non solum exhoc quod, sicut supra tactum est, non plus sibi contrariatur haec quam illa, sed etiam ex hoc quod saltem actum et obiectum sui peccati potest comparare ad illam universalem propositionem quam actu cogitat. Ut verbi gratia, ecce fornicator actu cogitat quod sua fomicatio est sibi delectabilis seu quoddam bonum delec· tabile et cum et a Deo prohibita et poenae aetemae promeritiva. Si igitur actu dicit quod omnis fornicatio est illicita: impossibile est quin eo ipso in particulari cognoscat et cogitet quod sua particularis fomicatio est illicita. Praeterea, ipse potest earn syllogistice ex primo necessario inferre, utpote sic: Omnis fornicatio est illicitai sed haec actio mea est fornicatio, utramque enimistarum conceditur actus cogitare et scirei sed ex his necessario concluditur, ergo haec mea fomicatio est illicita" (Jansen ed., ill, I9O-91). For a modem example where the prohibiting major is "No fornication is lawful" see D. Davidson, "How Is Weakness of the Will Possible?" in Moral Concepts, ed. J. Feinberg (Oxford, I969), 104.

64. De veritate, q. 17, a. I, esp. ad 4i Lottin, "Apropos de 'l'intellectualisme moral' de saint Thomas d'Aqllin," in O. Lottin, Psychologie et morale, ill, 651-66.

r88 MORAL WEAKNESS

speculative rather than practical. While they reveal our intellectual grasp of moral law, even in application to particular circumstances, our knowledge of moral law has no direct or necessary influence on our actions. Our actions are guided instead by practical moral judgments reflecting our individual moral characters, by our conception of what wc, as individuals, believe good for us.

We might accordingly see much of the late thirteenth-century debate as proceeding at cross-purposes. Whether we can act against our own moral judgments must of course depend on what one takes to be a moral judgment. Nevertheless) we should not leap to the conclusion that disagreements about sin and moral weakness arose entirely from a misunderstanding. In the first place, voluntarists were not alone in taking moral principles as reports of what God commands or forbids. Consider, for example, John of Pouilly, afollower of Godfrey of Fontaines. John says the incontinent knows in the universal that fornication is evil and an impediment to eternal lifei but, because he believes fornication is pleasant and because he is influenced by passion, he forms the proposition: "That which is pleasant, although offensive to God, should be done./I The incontinent, John explains, is not deterred by fear of God's wrath, for he believes that God is merciful and will be lenient with himi so, while the passion lasts, he judges fornication to be good without qualification.6S This kind of argument sounds so much like the Socratic position-that one always pursues pleasure as the good, so that any wrongdoing reflects a mistake in measuring near-term against longterm pleasures-that one can easily see why other masters might -react strongly against it.

Second, the voluntarist claim that someone might recognize which course of action is morally good and yet choose the opposite, becall.'~e she prefers some nonmoral good, marks a substantive departure from the Socratic view. If someone can do what she believes pleasant without mistaking what is pleasant for what is morally good (or good simpliciter), Adam's sin, the fall of Satan, and more mundane misbehavior-like stealing a laser printer or eating a col-

65. For excerpts from John's Quodl. il, q. 1 I, see Pr. Gonsalvi Hispani O.PM. Quaestiones disputatae et de quodlibet, ed. L. Amoros, 127nl. Although John offers this analysis as part of his critique of Gonsalvus, he appears to share Gonsalvus's conception of moral principles.

MORAL WEAKNESS

league's sandwich-becomes easier to explain. The danger is that moral judgments become speculative, cease to reflect the agenes desires, and so lose their power to motivate action.

Earlier Solutions Reprised

Richard of Middleton avoids the motivational problem by making far more modest claims for our ability to act against our own moral judgment. He argues that e~erything we will, we will in virtue of the ultimate end and sub ratione boni.66 The desire for happiness as our ultimate end is both natural and necessitating. Even the will, insofar as it is free, necessarily wills happiness, though it wills this end by natural determination rather than compulsion.67 All of this sounds decidedly Thomistic.

Richard's discussion of the will's ability to act against reason likewise recalls the teachings of Aquinas. Intellect, he argues, often judges that an act should be chosen "not as necessary to the attainment of the end, but as appropriate to it./I In such a case the will can choose contrary to intellect's judgment, for doing so is consistent with willing the end. (Aquinas, too, distinguishes between necessary and nonnecessary means.)68 In a similar vein, Richard says that

66. Sent., il, d. 38, a. 2, q. 3, resp.: "Respondeo, quod voluntas vult omne, quod vult in virtute ultimi finis: sicut enim se secunda moventia in ratione efficientis non movent, nisi in virtute primi moventis, ut superius habitum est, ita secunda moventia ipsius voluntatis in ratione finis movent voluntatem in virtute ultimi finis. Praeterea, quicquid voluntas vult, vult sub ratione boni, ut superius habitum est: sed quaelibet bonitas particularis est aliqua virtus ultimi finis: est enim quaedam participatio suffi" cientissimi boni complentis totum appetitum, quod bonum est ultimus finis: ergo quicquid vult voluntas vult in virtute ultimi finis" IBrescia, I59I, IT, 469).

67· Ibid., q. I, resp.: "Primo intendo declarare, quod voluntas naturalitervult finem. Secundo quod hoc non obstante libere vult finem. Tertio quod hoc non obstante non est proprie loquendo, actus liberi arbitrii respectu finis. Quarto quod voluntas, et velle naturali, et veIle libero de necessitate vult finem .... Ad intelligentiam secundi articuli, sciendum, quod praeter libertatem quae est a culpa et a miseria, potest distingui, libertas duplex, scilicet in libertatem, quae est a naturali determinatione, et in libertatern quae est a coactione. Loquendo de libertate a coactione volwltas simpliciter est libera respectu finis, naturalis enim determinatio voluntatis ad volendum finem, in nullo repugnattali liberati. ... Videmus etiam, quod coactio est contra inclinationem rei coactae, sed naturalis determinatio voluntatis-ad volendum finem, non facit voluntatem velle finem contra eius inclinationem. Talis ergo naturalis detenninatio voluntatis non repugnat suae libertati a coactione" IBrescia, I59I, IT, 465).

68. Ibid., q. 4, ad I (Brescia, 1591, IT, 473); STI-ITae, q. 13, a. 6, ad I.

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deliberation sometimes presents two courses of action as equally acceptable: it judges both in agreement with the end. The will can then break the suspense by turning the intellect to consider arguments favoring the one or by averting it from arguments favoririg the other. 69

Though Richard expressly defends the will's power to act against reason's judgment, the judgment ag~inst which the will acts is never what Aquinas would call a final practical judgment. Consider, for example, ~ichard's remarks on the practical syllogism:

The immediate conclusion does indeed follow of necessity. For example: from that major premise, "Everything unjust should be avoided," and from that minor premise, "It is unjust to take something belonging to another when its owner is unwilling, I! it follows of necessity: "One should avoid taking something belonging to an~ other when its owner is unwilling." But that second conclusion, which is willing to avoid taking, the thing when its owner is unwilling, does not follow of necessity/o

Though Richard is criticizing Aristotle in this passage, or at least one reading of Aristotle, the syllogism he recites is not a: practical

, syllogism. The agent is not deliberating about what to dOj he is only deriving a specific principle from a more general one. Aristotle himself would agree that no action necessarily follows as a consequence of such reasoning.

whether or not the rehabilitation of Giles had any influence on Richard's teachings, it certainly affected Henry of Ghent. In his Quodlibet X (1286/871 Henry does his utmost to show that the propositiomagistralis-taken, remember, from Giles's writings-does not reverse any of the articles condemned in 1277. The main line of argument should be familiar from Henry's Quodlibet I: Although there can be no disorder in the will unless there is, at the same time, some disorder in the intellect, this is not to say that the evil in the

69. Ibid., resp. (Brescia, r59r, li,47I). 70. Sent., li, d. 38, a. 2, q. 4, ad 6: 11 Ad sextum dicendum, quod non est conscntien

dum ibi Philosopho, nisi exponatur sic, ut intelligatur de conclusione immediata: ilIa enim de necessitate bene sequitur, verbi gratia, et ista minore, accipere rem alienam, invito domino, est iniustum, sequitur de necessitate, quod accipererem alienam invito domino, est fugiendum: sed ista secunda conclusio, quae est velle fugere acceptionem

rei invito do:m:ino, non sequitur de necessitate" (Brescia, I59I, Il, 473).

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will is caused by some error or ignorance of the intellect. The magisterial proposition has nothing to say about the causal relationship.71 Now consider article 166 of the 1277 condemnation: IIIf reason is right, the will is also right." If that article is read in the same way, without any causal import, it is quite consistent with the magisterial proposition.

Henry also proposes a way to interpret the condemnation of article 169 as consistent with the magisterial proposition. "While passion remains and particular knowledge is actually present, the will cannot act against it" could be true in the composite sense. That is, if what is meant is only that 11 someone with knowledge, when actually knowing, cannot simultaneously will against knowledge," then the article is true in the same way it is true that 11 someone who is sitting, when he is sitting, cannot walk." In other words, Henry argues, one cannot know in particular what one should do and will the opposite at precisely the same moment. Error or ignorance always accompanies evil in the will j nevertheless, intellectual disorder need not precede evil in the will, and so the article is false if interpreted in the divided sense, that is, if what it means is that the will cannot at this moment will contrary to what the intellect knew clearly up until this moment.72

In Question 13 of the same quodlibet Henry explaios how the condemned articles bear on the problem of moral weakness. Some say, he reports, the incontinent makes the same mistake in judgment that the intemperate does: he judges, for example, that fornication is good. Before that time} when reason dictated the opposite, the incontinent could will to avoid the actj but as long as reason dictates that he should fornicate, he cannot refrain from willing to do SO.73 Henry insists that this account of moral weakness falls under the 1277 articles. His own view is that the incontinent always retains the ability to will the opposite of what reason judges should be done, even when that judgment concerns a particular situation. Having declared his own position to be in accord with the 1277 condemnation, Henry tries once again to reconcile the condemnation of article 169 with the magisterial proposition.

71. Quod!. x, q. 9 (Macken cd., XIV, 245). 72. Ibid. (Macken ed., XIV, 245-48); q. 10 (XIV, 263-69). 73. Quodl. X, q. 13 (Macken ed., XIV, 287).

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If the article means that a sin of the will does not immediately obscure reason, so that the correct particular judgment can con~ tinue to stand with disorder in the will, the magisterial proposition does indeed seem inconsistent with the condemnation. Another reading, however, is possible: the article might mean that reason is not corrupted by an opinion contrary to the right one, though it is obscured, and that clouding of reason ~an be called an error, as it is in the magisterial proposition. The instant in which evil arises in the will might also be divided into two points (signa), so that evil in the will comes first and the clouding of reason second, as an effect necessarily follows its cause. Article 169 might therefore apply to that first point, when the will wills contrary to reason's judgment. The magisterial proposition would then apply not to the point but to the instant. It would mean that in the same instant, in reality (secundum rem), if there is evil in the will, there is also some error of reason-again, where /ferror" signifies some obscurity caused by the evil of the will."

An interesting comparison can be made between Henry1s Quodlibet X and the set of questions disputed by Gonsalvus more than fi£~ teen years later. Gonsalvus argues at some length for the will's ability to act against reason1s judgment, not only in the universal but also in the particular. He draws heavily on the 1277 articles, ex-

74. Ibid.: "Sed non puto sic intelligi articulum, propter praedictas auctoritates Psalmi et earum expositiones, ut voluntate agente contra scientiam per tempus praecedens omnino rectam absque omni obnubilatione, ipsa scienta maneat in apice illius rectitudinis in hora qua voluntas agit contrarium, sed quod ipsa maneat non corrupta contraria opinione, licet offuscata. Quam offuscationem, quia largo nomine secundum praedicta error potest dici,-nisi forte dicamus quod illud ins tans in quo primo est malitia in voluntate dividatur in duo signa, ita quod in posteriore sequatur aliqua obnubilatio radonis et in priore fiat malitia in voIuntate, et simul in illo signo maneat recta ratio absque omni obscuratione, sicut et per totum tempus praecedens, quia ipsa non repugnat omnino voluntati contrariae nisi quatenus obscuratio rationis necessario sequitur malitiam voluntatis ut effectus suam per se causam, et sic articulus intelligatur quod manente scientia in apice rectitiudinis pro signo priore, sciens potest velle contrarium pro eodem signa, propositio vero magistrorum intelligatur quod si est malitia in voluntate, pro eodem instanti, secundum rem, licet pro signa posteriore, est error in ratione scilicet alicuius obscurationis causatae a malitia voIuntatis-, et sic aestimo intelle~isse magistros nomine error quando iudicabant quod illa propositio potest concedi sicut iacet: 'Non est malitia in voluntate, nisi sit error in ratione'" (Macken ed.,

XIV, 289).

MORAL WEAKNESS 193

plaining exactly what he takes them to mean-namely, that the will can act against a particular judgment by reason even while that judgment stands.75 Yet Gonsalvus makes no effort whatsoever to reconcile this doctrine with the propositio magistralis. Perhaps he thought the reconciliation had already been effected by Henry-or perhaps he thought, judging from Henry1s efforts, that reconciliation was best not attempted.

The Advantageous and the Just

Duns Scotus not only ignores the magisterial proposition but also attacks Henry's effort to find some acceptable reading of it. On Henry1s view, the error of the will is prior by nature to the error of the intellect, and yet the two errors must occur in the same instant. Ignoring Henry's suggestion that the instant be divided into two signa, Scotus argues that the will must be able to go wrong while the right judgment stands or Henry'S position leads to an infinite regress. 76 Of course, this is not to suggest that the will can will evil as such. It is rather that the will can choose evil under the aspect of some good, or that it can refrain from choosing in accordance with the correct moral judgment, in which case the judgment simply stands in the intellect without any choice by the will. 77

The will's option simply not to act-non velle, as opposed to nolle-plays an important role in Scotus's thought. While he agrees that we have a natural desire for happiness so powerful that, when presented with complete happiness, we cannot refuse it, this does not mean that we are determined to will happiness. The possibility of not willing always remains. 78 The option of not willing also ex~ plains how, in Scotus's opinion, the intellect can acquire prudence without the will's acquiring moral virtue. B'ecause the intellect can make a correct moral judgment without a corresponding choice by the will, and assuming that a single act can generate a habit, then a

75· Quaest. disp., q. 8 lAmoros ed., 1I3-32, 124-27).

76. Ordinatio rn, suppl. d. 36, in Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, ed. A. WaIter (Washington, D.G, 1986), 400. All subsequent citations from Scotus refer to this anthology by WoIter.

77· Ibid. (WoIter ed., 400, 403); Opus Oxoniense IT, d. 43, q. 2 (WaIter cd., 478). 78. Ordinatio IV, suppl. d. 49, qq. 9-10 (WoIter cd., 184-96).

I94 MORAL WEAKNESS

habit of making correct moral judgments can be generated in the intellect without the generation of related moral virtue in the will. 79

This line of argument aims to prove only that someone with prudence does not necessarily have moral virtue. It does not imply that moral virtue can exist without prudence, for Seotus sees prudence as a necessary condition for the correct choices that generate moral virtue. Nor does the argument imply that what an agent chooses to do has no effect on her moral judgment. On the contrary, Seotus explains two ways in which the evil of the will serves to blind the intellect: privatively, by averting the intellect from consideration of what is right, and positively, by commanding the intellect to consider the means to a bad end, so that the intellect gradually acquires the corresponding habit. 80 Such moral blindness, arising, as it does,

79. Ordinatia IlI, supp!. d. 36: "Potest igitur aliter dici quod illehabitus generativus ex dictaminibus, sive circa fines saltem in quosdam particulares qui sunt proprie fines virtutum moralium, sive circa media ordinata ad mos fines circa quae forte non sunt alii habitus ab illis qui sunt circa illos fines, est proprie prudentia, licet electio recta non sequitur in eodem dictante, et ita omnino non erit necessaria connexio alicuius virtutis maralis ad prudentiam dictativam de sua materia. Tamen econverso, nulla electio potest esse recta moraliter nisi sit concars suae regulae et suae mensurae, quod est dictamen rectum; dictamen autem rectum natum est generare prudentiam, etiamsi unicam. Ideo econverso potest concedi connexio quod virtus moralis non potest sine prudenda circa materiam suam" (WoIter ed., 410). An excellent discussion of Scotus's views on this topic is given in S. Dumont, "The Necessary Connection of Moral Virtue to Prudence according to John Duns Scotus-Revisited," Recherches de theologie an

cienne et medievale 55 (1988): 184-206. 80. Ibid.: "Quantum ad istum articulum potest dici quod simpliciter rectum dicta- '

men potest stare in intellectu absque recta electione illius dictati in voluntate, et ita cum unicus actus rectus dictandi generet prudentiam; generabitur ibi prudentia absque omni habitu virtutis moralis in voluntate, et si sic, tunc quaeritur quommodo malitia excaecat intellectum secundum istas auctoritatesl Did potest quod excaecatur dupliciter: uno modo privative; alio modo positive; privative, quia avertit a recta consideradone; voluntas enim eHgens oppositum alterius rectae dictati, non permittit intellectum diu stare in ilio recto dictamine, sed avertit ipsum ad considerationes pm opposito, si quae possunt esse rationes sophisticae vel probabiles ad illud; aut saltem avertit ad considerandum aHquid aliud impertinens, ne stet illa actualiter displicentia quae stat in remorsu illo qui habetur in eligendo oppositum dictati.-Positive autem excaecat sic: nam sicut voluntas recte eligens finem praecipit intellectui considerare illa, quae sunt necessaria ad illum finem, et intellectum sic inquirendo media ordinata ad illum finem rectum generat in se habitum prudentiae, ita voluntas eligens sibi malum finem potest quidem sibi praestituere malum finem, sicut dictum est distinctione prima primi, imperat intellectum considerare media necessaria ad consequendum il

Ium finem" (WoIter ed., 400, 402).

MORAL WEAKNESS I95

from the evil of the will, is not mere stupidity. Even averting ones mind from correct judgments produces moral blindness_ One rationalizes bad choices, and so gradually acquires a habit of sophistical reasoning, or, at the very least, one avoids the remorse attendant on acting against one's own better judgment by thinking of unrelated matters, and so gradually loses a sense of what is morally relevant_

Thus it seems highly unlikely, on Scotus's view} that someone could acquire a fnlly developed habit of prudence without acquiring the related moral virtue. On the other hand} Scotus's conception of prudence does seem to tilt, albeit to a lesser degree than some of his predecessors', in the direction of the speculative_ Because there is no necessary connection between what one judges to be morally right and what one chooses to do, because at least some degree of prudence can exist without moral virtue, the problem raised by the teachings of Olivi resurfaces. If a moral judgment need not reflect what the agent regards as good for her, what motivation is there to act on it?

The answer lies partly in the two affections of the will, a doctrine that originated with Anselm of Canterbury. By the will's affecdo commom, we are inclined to seek above all else what is advantageous to ourselves, our own greatest perfection and happiness. By the affection for justice, we tend to love things according to their intrinsic worth, because they are good in themselves, not merely good for us. It is the latter affection that Scotus describes as the will's congenital freedom-not merely "indifference,u or contingency, or a capacity for opposite acts} but a positive inclination to justice. Scotus writes:

According to Anselm, two affections are assigned to the will: namely, the affection for justice and the affection for the advanta-geous. ___ The affection for justice is nobler than the affection for the advantageous, understanding "justice" to mean not only acquired and infused justice but also the innate justice that is the will's congenital freedom, according to which it is able to will some good not ordered to itself. According to the affection for the advantageous, however, it is able to will nothing except in relation to itself, and it would have this if it were only an intellectual appetite without freedom that follows intellectual cognition, as the sense appetite follows the cognition of the senses. The only point I want to make is that, because loving something in itself is a freer act and

MORAL WEAKNESS

more an act of sharing than is desiring that thing for oneself, so it is more appropriate to the will, at least insofar as the will has an innate affection for justice. The other act [of desiring something for oneself] pertains to the will insofar as it has an affection for the advantageous. 8I

Where Anselm saw the affection for justice in theological terms-as a gift of grace that could be lost through sin-Scotus sees it as both innate and inalienable, as an inclination of the will that all human beings have, just as all have the inclination to seek happiness. Scotus/s doctrine of the willis two affections has already been discussed in insightful studies by Allan Wolter and John Boler." Here I shall mention only two problems that it helps to solve.

First, the doctrine helps to explain how a moral judgment can motivate action without in any way determining one to act. While we always have an inclination to seek our own happiness, we also have an inclination to love things for their intrinsic worthl and the latter inclination serves as a check on our affection for the advantageous. It is precisely this capacity to will something other than what we want for ourselves that makes us free agentsl morally responsible for our actions. 83 This is not to say that the moral life is a dreary

8 I. Qrdinatio III, suppl. d. 26: "In voluntate secundum Anselmum assignantur duae affectiones, scilicet affectio iustitiae et affectio commodi. ... Nobiliar est affectio iustitiae quam commodi, non salum intelligendo de acquisita et infusa, sed de innata, quae est ingenita libertas secundum quam potest velle aliquod bonum non ordinatum , ad se. Secundum autem affectionem commodi nihil potest velle nisi in ordine ad se, et hanc haberet si praecise esset appetitus intellectivus sine libertate sequens cognitionem intellectivam, sicut appetitus sensitivus sequitur cognitionemsensitivam. Ex hoc volo habere tantum quod, cum amare aliquid in se sit actus liberior et magis communicativus quam desiderare, illud sibi et coveniens magis voluntati inquantum habet affectionem justitiae saltem innatae. Alius autem conveniat voluntati inquantum habet af£ectionem commodi 11 lWolter ed., 178). Anselm taught that the affection for justice was lost through original sin and can only be restored through God's grace. By presenting that affection as congenital and inalienable, Scotus has significantly revised Anselm's teachings.

82. WoIter, "Native Freedom of the Will as a Key to the Ethics of Scotus/' in The Philosophical Theology of John Duns Scows, ed. M. Adams lWashington, D.e., 1990), 148-162; Boler, "The Moral Psychology of Duns Scotus," 31-56, "Transcending the Natural," 109-50, and" An Image for the Unity of Will," 23-44.

83. Ordinatio IT, d. 6, q. 2: "Si enim intelligeretur-secundum illam fictionem Anselmi De casu diaboli-quod esset angelus habens affectionem commodi et non iusti-

MORAL WEAKNESS 197

exercise in self-abnegation. It is only to say that we are obligated to keep our drive for happiness within appropriate bounds.

Earlier masters had challenged the idea that the will is nothing more than intellectual appetite, but without providing any clear alternative. Scotus suggests that the will, insofar as it is free} is able to transcend the natural drive for self-realization. Although the will aways retains this drive in the form of the affection for the advantageous (so that the eudaimonistic aspect of Aristotles ethics has its placeL Scotus emphasizes instead our inclination to love things according to their intrinsic worth.

Second, by positing two affections and two corresponding goods, Scotus can explain how one might will evil sub ratione boni and yet without misjudging what is morally good. Citing the three objects of pursuit discussed by Aristotle-the noble (or, in scholastic usage l the bonum honestum), the useful, and the pleasant-Scotus observes that the useful is never desired for its own sake: one wants what is useful only with reference to something else. The two remaining objects of pursuit Scotus connects with his own doctrine of the will's two affections: the bonum honestum with the affection for justice, and the pleasant with the affection for the advantageous. 84

In fact, the two goods are not in conflict, for God is both the greatest Source of pleasure and the highest bonum honestum. Thus the virtuous are able to take pleasure in what is just: their desire for pleasure, or for their own happiness, is shaped by their understanding of what is intrinsically good. The possibility of willing ones own happiness or advantage at the expense of justice nevertheless remains. Those who do so may in time become morally blind, but

tiae lhoc est, habens appetitum intellectivum mere ut appetitum talem et non ut liberum), talis angelus non posset non velle commoda, nee etiam non summe velle talia. nee imputaretur sibi ad peccatum, quia ille appetitus se haberet ad suam cognitiva~ sicut modo appetitus visivus ad visum, in necessario consequendo ostensionem illius cognitivae et inclinationem ad optimum ostensum a tali potentia, quia non haberet unde se refraenaret. IlIa igitur affectio iustitiae, quae est prima moderatrix affectionis commodi et quantum ad hoc quod non oportet voluntatem actu appetere illud ad quod inclinat affectio commodi et quantum ad hoc quod non oportet earn summe appetere (quantum scilicet ad illud ad quod inclinat affectio commodi), illa-inquam-affectio iustitiae est libertas innata voluntati, quia ipsa est prima moderatrix affectionis talis" lWolter ed., 468).

84· Ibid. (WoIter ed., 464, 466).

MORAL WEAKNESS

such blindness need not be posited as the cause of moral degeneration. As the agent's ability to will something other than what is advantageous to himself helps to explain the Christian conception of love, so the ability to will what is advantageous at the expense of what is morally good helps to explain the Christian conception of sin.

On this view, the freedom of the will provides much more than an element of metaphysical contingency. It provides an understanding of human motivation that explains how we can act from moral obligation, but it does so without suggesting that human beings either are or should be devoid of the inclination to seek happiness. The desire for happiness is natural, and reason enables us to pursue happiness in a suitably enlightened way, but reason is not what makes us free, and even the rational pursuit of happiness is not what makes us morally admirable.

5

VIRTUES OF THE WILL

Scholastic debate about the role of emotions in morality may go unnoticed because much of it lies buried, under a discouraging rubric, in commentaries on Book Ill, dist. 33 of the Sentences. The commentator's usual question is IlWhether the moral- virtues are in the will as in a subject" or "Whether the moral virtues are in the sense appetite as in a subject." Sometimes the stated question is specific to the cardinal virtues, though the author will ordinarily draw conclusions about moral virtues in general. No matter what the precise formulation, the problem is to place the moral virtues within the human soul-to determine, say, whether temperance belongs to the will or to the sense appetite.

Modem moral philosophers who discuss the virtues seldom evince any interest in the psychic /llocation" of these habits. "Where are the moral virtues?" sounds like precisely the kind of question Gilbert Ryle would dismiss as a category mistake. But as is often the case with scholastic questions, first impressions are deceptive. The location of the virtues is no less than a problem of what virtue is, of what it is to be courageous or temperate, of what it is to be a virtuous person.

199

200 VIRTUES OF THE WILL

Aquinas taught that justice lies in the will j temperance and cour~ age lie rather in the sense appetite. At least some virtues must be posited in the seat of the passions because the proper emotional responses arc essential to human goodness. According to Thomas, the passions of the sense appetite can be brought into habitual conformity with reason, and when they arc, they make us better than we would be otherwise. In contrast, most of the same masters who staunchly defended the freedom of the will attributed all moral virtues to the will. Some granted that the sense appetite can acquire habits related to and resembling virtues, but those who did usually denied that such habits are essential to virtue. Others declined to award even quasi-virtues to the sense appetite. On one broad point they usually agreed: All habits that are moral virtues properly so called, in their own right and without qualification, are habits of the will. In the later thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries, more than a dozen thinkers defended this view. Bonaventure, Henry of Ghent, Peter Olivi, Gonsalvus of Spain, and Duns Scotus were among them. 1

Part of the scholastic debate turned on Aristotle's remarks on the location of the Virtues, along with his teachings on the relation between virtue and passion. With Aristotle's teachings we accordingly begin. Next we shall consider Stoic and Augustinian doctrine on the passions, and finally we shall examine the issues as scholastics saw them.

The Aristotelian Background

Among the many problems facing readers of Aristotle's Ethics is the difficulty of reconciling two kinds of remarks about the pas-

1. The others include Peter of Falco, Richard of Middleton, Robert Cowton, Francis of Meyronnes, Antonius Andreas, John of Bassoles, Hugh of Newcastle (Novo Castro), Gerald Odonis, and William of Ockham. The views of Bonaventure, Olivi, Henry, Richard, Gonsalvus, and Scotus are discussed below in the text. See also Francis, In libros Sententianun, III, d. 33, q. 2, a. 3 (Venice, 1520j repr. Frankfurt, 1966), f. 173r; Gerard, Expositio in Aristotelis Ethicam, I, q. 36 (Venice, 1500), f. 2SV; Ockham, QUaestiones in 111 Sent., q. I1, in Gulielmi de Ockham Opera theologica, vol. 6 (St. Bonaventure, N.Y., 1982), 350-90. Relevant excerpts from Peter, Robert, Antonius, John, and Hugh are published in T. Graf, Desubiecto virtutum cardinalium, vol. 2, pt. I of De subiecto psychico gratiae et virtutum secundum doctrinam scholasticoIUm usque ad medirun saeculum XIV (Rome, 1935), 144-68, 197-200, 33 *-46*.

VIRTUES OF THE WILL 201

sions. On the one hand, Aristotle takes great pains to establish that virtues and vices are not passions. He asserts that we arc not called good or bad on the basis of our passions, nor are we praised or blamed for them. More important, Aristotle argues that anger and fear are felt without choice, while the virtues are modes of choice or involve choice. With respect to the passions we are said to be moved, while with respect to virtues and vices we are said to be disposed. All of this goes to show that virtues are not passions. Instead they are hexeis: habits, states of character, or dispositions (EN II05b29- II06aroj.

On the other hand, in Aristotle'S definition of virtue it seems that the same passions excluded from virtue have resurfaced:

Virtue, then, is a state rhexis] concerned with choice, lying in a mean relative to us, this being determined by reason and in the way in which the man of practical reason would determine it. Now it is a mean between two vices, that which depends on excess and that which depends on defectj and again it is a mean because the vices respectively fall short of or exceed what is right in both passions and actions, while virtue both finds and chooses what is intermediate. (EN Il06b36-II07a5j

Two questions are raised by this passage. First, if we neither praise nor blame people for feeling (say) anger, does it make sense to praise or blame them for being disposed to feel anger? Second, if passions are felt without choice, how can virtue be a disposition to choose the mean between passions?

Throughout his discussion of moral virtue, Aristotle makes it clear that virtue concerns both actions and passions, both what one does and what one feels, or more literally, both what one does and what one suffers or undergoes.2 The virtuous response to frightening objects, for example, is more than venturing downstairs, flashlight in hand, to investigate nocturnal noises: actions are only part of what it is to be brave. The other part is the emotion the agent experiences in such situations. Courage thus requires not only the right behavioral response to perceived danger b.ut also the right

2. See, for example EN IIo4bl4, IIosb26, II06bI7, IIo6b2S, II07a9. In its most literal sense, "passion" is simply the opposite of action, i.e., something one undergoes, as opposed to something one does.


emotional response: the proper mean between excessive fear and excessive confidence, with due respect for the facts of the particular situation:

The man) then, who faces and who fears the right things and with the right aim, in the right way and at the right time, and who feels confidence under the corresponding conditions is brave. for the brave man feels and acts according to the merits' of the ca~e and in whatever way reason dictates.3

Clearly we can control OUI acts, can deliberate about what we should do, can choose to do it and actually do it (assuming no physi~ cal hindrances). But how can we control passions, which Aristotle himself says we feel without choice? His answer is that, if we practice acting in the right way, and if we gradually learn which dangers are and are not worth facing, we shall also come to feel in the right way. At first the actions of courage will be all we can manage, and even those may be performed with difficulty. But we can act as if we were not afraid. From practicing brave actions, and given suitable moral instruction, proper feelings of confidence will eventually follow-or so Aristotle believes.

The central insight is that we cannot practice feeling directly, and in that sense, emotions are without choice. We can, however, practice actingi and to the extent that emotions are associated with actions, we can be said to choose our emotions. Hence Aristotle's observation that we do not blame someone who simply feels anger, though we do blame someone who "feels it in a certain waY"-that is, in inappropriate circumstances or to an inappropriate degree (EN IIoSb33-IIo6aI). We blame him when his moral character is formed, when we can see his emotions as evidence of a character that he himself helped to shape.' Of particular importance is the

3· EN 1IISb17-19· See also 1. A Kosman, "Being Properly Affected: Virtues and Feelings in Aristotle's Ethics," in Essays on Aristotle's Ethics, ed. A. ROTty, 103-16j R. Roberts, "Aristotle on Virtues and Emotions," Philosophical Studies 56 (1989): 293-306.

4· Aristotle has considerable difficulty in establishing that we are actually responsible for our own characters-that we do not merely acquire them "vohmtarilyll (EN I I 14ap-I r 1 sa3i-and in general he demonstrates an indifference to the "moral luck" necessary for that noble upbringing his theory of virtue evidently requires. For a charitable reconstruction see Irwin, "Reason and Responsibility," in Essays on Aristotle's Ethics, ed. A. Rorty.


feeling of pleasure, for only the virtuous take pleasure in acting virtuously (EN I I04b4-8). Of course, one can also distinguish the virtuous from the vicious by their actions and the principles on which they act. The feeling of pleasure is important mainly to Aristotle's distinction between virtue and a disposition similar to virtue, that is, between temperance (sophrosyne) and continence (or moral strength: enkrateia).

While the temperate person feels only the right kind of pleasure in the right circumstances, the continent suffers from disordered desires: he takes pleasure in the wrong objects or excessive pleasure in the right ones. In other respects the two are similar. Both have a sound conception of what is good, and both do what they think they should. The continent might even match the temperate virtuous deed for virtuous deed. Yet the continent lacks the internal har~ mony of his fully virtuous counterpart. While the temperate suffers no temptation to stray from the path of virtue, the continent is tempted and prevails over temptation (EN IlS I b34-IIS 2a3). In effect, the temperate acts in accordance with his passions; the continent acts in spite of his.

With this discussion in mind, W. F. R. Hardie'praises Aristotle for having discovered "two different kinds of moral goodness":

To make this distinction so clearly was a major achievement in the re!1jective study of human conduct. If it has become a platitude, this is what happens to many discoveries in philosophy. As to the relative ranking of these two kinds of moral goodness, Aristotle, I think, takes it for granted that 'continence' is a second best to 'temperance' or virtue: it is better not have bad or excessive desires. He does not formulate and face the problem, and there is still no agreed solution.s

Considering Aristotle's extended reflection on the relationship between pleasure and goodness, there can be no serious doubt that he regards continence as second best to temperance. Aristotle holds that pleasure is essential to happiness, and since happiness comes from virtue, the notion of a virtuous person who does not take pleasure in virtue would be unthinkable. 6

5. Hardie, Aristotle's Ethical Theory (Oxford, 1963), 138-39. 6. On the connection between pleasure, happiness, and virtue sec EN I, chap. 8; VII,

chaps. 11-14; X, chaps. '1-7. Though Aristotle believes that the most perfect happiness


The vision of the moral hero prevailing again and again in the perpetual struggle with his lower appetites, a vision that gained considerable appeal among Christian writers, would be for Aristotle thoroughly distasteful. In Aristotle's ethics, internal division is a condition human beings can and should overcome. The ideal is to bring one's passions into harmony with one's values, so that, having acquired virtue, it becomes both easy and pleasant to do what one should.

Aristotle's remarks on the location of the virtues are quite brief. At the end of Ethics I he says that the soul consists of two elements: one rational, the other irrational. The irrational is subdivided into the vegetative, which governs nutrition and growth, and the appetitive, which "shares in reason" in the sense of being "persuaded" by it. If the appetitive element can be said to have reason, then the rational soul will be twofold, with one part having reason "in the strict sense and in itselfll and the other having 11 a tendency to obey, as one does one's father." The grand conclusion is that intellectual virtues belong to what is strictly rational (namely, the intellectj; moral virtues belong to appetite (EN I 102a26-1 103a1oj.

On first reading, one might take Aristotle to be subdividing the appetitive part of ,the soul rather than the irrational part. Consider, for example, the following passage from Ross's translation:

That the irrational element is in some sense persuaded by a rational principle is indicated also by the giving of advice and by all reproof and exhortation. And if this clement also must be said to have a rational principle, that which has a rational principle (as well as that which has not) will be twofold, one subdivision having it in the strict sense and in itself, and the other having a tendency to obey as one does one's father. 7

The Ross translation might lead one to believe that Aristotle is dividing the soul into four parts: the vegetative, the intellectual, the appetitive part that is rational"in the strict sense," and the appetitive part that has a "tendency to obey" reason. This reading of Aris-

belongs to the contemplative life, he is far from regarding the life of moral virtue as inherently unpleasant. The difference between the two lives is the difference between divine and human pleasures, not between pleasant philosophizing and dreary civic life.

7· The Basic Works of Aristotle, ed. R. McKeon [New York, 1941), 95 1-52.

VIRTUES OF THE WILL

totle's psychology would explain something he says later, in Book Ill. Having completed a general description of courage, he remarks: 11 After courage, let us speak of temperance; for these seem to be virtues of the irrational parts!1 (EN I II7b23-24j. If all moral virtues belong to the appetitive element, and if that is not itself divided into rational and irrational appetite, what is the point of aSSOCiating temperance and courage with lithe irrational partsll ? The remark in Book III would suggest that the division of the soul in Book I is a fourfold division: vegetative, irrational appetite, rational appetite! and intellect.

A more likely explanation, suggested by Gauthier and Jolif, is that Aristotle's remark in Book III refers to the Platonic view of temperance and courage. This casual allusion simply provides grounds for a transition to the next virtue Aristotle wants to discuss.s If this reading is correct! the division of the soul in Book I is threefold. Thomson's translation should accordingly be preferred to Ross!s:

That the irrational part is in some way persuaded by reason is indicated by our use of admonition, and of reproof and encouragement of all kinds. If, however, one should speak of the appetitive part of the soul as rational too, it will be the rational part that is divided in two: one rational in the proper sense of the word and in itself, the other in the sense that a child pays attention to its father. 9

Since Aristotle makes no noticeable effort to distinguish justice from temperance and courage by linking the one to rational appetite and the others to irrational appetite! it seems likely that he sees all moral virtues as appetitive without further specification. Though he does believe that there are different kinds of appetite, he does not see one kind as being persuaded by reason and the other as merely obeying reason. IIBeing persuaded by f! and 11 obeying" are both descriptions of how the same generic appetitive element stands with regard to the intellect. Aristotle uses the first when he presents the irrational soul as double and the rational soul as single. He uses the second when he presents the rational soul as double and the irrational soul as single. The point is simply that appetite can be seen in two ways. When compared with the vegetative element! it is ratio-

8. Gauthier and Jolif, L'Ethique cl Nicomaque, vo!. I (Louvain-Paris, 1958L 238-39.

9. The Ethics of Aristotle, trans. J. A. K. Thomson (New York, 1976), go.


nal; when compared with the intellect, it is irrational. Yet this is not to say that appetite is itself divided into two distinct faculties.

Only later will these two different ways of looking at appetite crystallize into two distinct faculties: rational appetite, or will, and irrational appetite, or sense appetite. Because Aristotles remarks on the location of the moral virtues are both brief and open to interpretation, the.y will carry less weight in scholastic debates than other aspects of his teachings. Every master who wants to reconcile his own position with Aristotle's dicussion of the soul in Ethics I will easily find a way to do so.

Stoic Sages and Christian Saints

It is tempting but dangerous to regard all scholastics as either following Aristotle's teachings or reacting against them. The danger in this case is especially great, for there were two import~nt contributions to thought on the passions between Aristotle's time and the high Middle Ages. The first was made by the Stoics, the second by Augustine. Scholastics tended to favor Aristotle's position over what they took to be the Stoics', but as we shall see, some read Aristotle in the light of Augustine1s writings, and Augustine presented internal conflict as an unavoidable condition of this life.

The historical picture is further complicated by the scholastic understanding of Stoicism. When masters of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries refer to "Stoic" doctrine on the passions, their usual source is not Seneca or even Cicero but rather City of Godin particular, Books IX and XN, where Augustine alternately reports and criticizes what he calls the Stoic position. By lithe Stoics" Augustine typically means the ancient Stoics1 and he is more likely to label Stoic doctrines as such when he rejects them than when he incorporates them into his own work. 10 Studies of Stoicism in medieval thought must therefore consider Augustine in four capacities: as a reporter, interpreter, critic, and (often unconfessed) borrower of Stoic ideas.

The Stoic doctrine of the passions, as reported in City of God, is

10. Augustine's uses of Stoicism are discussed in M. Colish, The Stoic Tradition from Antiquity to the Early Middle Ages, vol. 2 (Leiden, I9851, 142-238, esp. 238. See also J. Wetzel, Augustine and the Limits of Virtue (Cambridge, 1992), 98--:111.


mainly the doctrine of Zeno and Chrysippus. Because passions are located in the mind, they lie wholly within the power of reason. The ideal is to educate reason, eradicating the four bad passions and replacing them with the three good ones (the eupatheiail. When reason is liberated from the influence of passion} a person achieves apatheia. What remains are the rational passions: will (boulesisl} joy (charal, and caution (eulabeial. n

In Cicero's writings boulesis becomes voluntas and chara becomes gaudium, though the original meaning of these terms survives more or less intact. Both voluntas and gaudium signify the thoroughly rational passions of a Stoic sage. 12 Apart from his role as a translator and transmitter of Stoic doctrine} Cicero's part in our story is limited to a single suggestion. He says that the difference between Stoics1 Aristotelians, and Academics is one of words and not of ideas, for all taught that virtue brings happiness. 13

The allegation of harmony between the schools is repeated by Augustine in City of God. In Book IX we find Stoics and Aristotelians agreeing that the mind of the sage is free from any domination by the passions. Why, then} do these groups seem to disagree? Augustine explains that the Stoics, unlike the Aristotelians} refuse to call anything external or bodily a good. They say that good lies entirely in the mind} and anything else is at most an advantage. In contrast} the Aristotelians are prepared to call even bodily advantages goods. Augustine remarks that Christian doctrine concerning the passions must differ from the teachings of philosophers} but he postpones the problem, ending' his discussion in Book IX with an unanswered question: whether our liability to passion even in the performance of duty is not part of the weakness of OUT present life. 14

11. Stoicorum veterum fragmenta, ed. H. van Amim (Stuttgart, (964), III, 105-7. The earliest known treatments of the eupatheiai are found in the work of Chrysippus. While there is no evidence that Zeno formulated this doctrine, recent studies suggest that itis at least implicit in his teachings. See, for example, CoUsh, 42-43; J. Rist, Stoic Philosophy (Cambridge, 1969), 24-36; B. Inwood, Ethics and Human Action in Early Stoicism (Oxford, 1985), 173.

12. Tusculanae disputationes IV.6, 12-13. 1.~. See, for example, De finibus bonorum et malorum V.8, 22. Carneades had al

ready argued that Aristotelians and Stoics were locked in nothing more than a verbal dispute. I single out Cicero not for his (dubious) originality but only because of Augustine's reliance on his works.

14. De civitate Dei, IX, 4-5.


In Book XN, where Augustine returns to Stoic doctrine regarding the passions, he again begins on a conciliatory note. The Stoics do not require that the sage be utterly unfeeling; they teach that he is free of perturbations. They replace the four passions-desire, delight, feaT, and grief-with the three eupatheiai. After noting, ominously, that the Stoics admit no rational counterpart to grief, Augustine launches an extended attack on their doctrine concerning the passions. Five criticisms are of 'particular interest:

i. Will} caution, and joy are common to good men and bad, as are desire, feaT, and delight. But the good experience these passions in a good way and the bad in a bad way, just as human acts of will can be right or wrong. The Stoics excessively restrict the meaning of certain terms, deviating not only from the usage of Scripture but even from that of Latin literature. Voluntas and gaudium} for example, are sometimes used with reference to the wicked} while concupiscentia andlaetitia are sometimes used with reference to the good. 15

ii. A certain kind of grief (tristitia) can bring repentance} and repentance leads to salvation. The Stoics deny that the sage feels grief} because they think that he has nothing to repent; they deny that he is liable to sin.16

iii. St. Paul showed evidence of strong emotion} and Christ himself displayed anger and grief. With examples like these, there can be no doubt that passions can be good. Even the passions denigrated by the Stoics are good when ordered by Christian love. I7

iv. If what is meant by apatheia or impassibilitas is freedom, from passions that are contrary to reason, then surely it is a good state. Nevertheless, such freedom is unattainable in this life. Human beings will achieve apatheia only when we are without sin. 18

v. Some of the passions, such as love and joy, continue even in

IS. Ibid., XIV, 8: "Proinde volunt cavent gaudent et boni et malii atque ut eadem aliis verbis enuntiemus, cupiunt timent laetantur et boni et mali. Sed illi bene, isti male, sicut hominibus seu recta seu perversa voluntas est."

16. Ibid. 17· Ibid., 9· 18. Ibid.: "Quocirca ilIa quae apatheia Graece dicitur (quae, si Latine posset, impas

sibilitas diceretur), si ita intelligenda est (in animo quippe, non in corpore accipitur) ut sine his affectionibus vivatur quae contra rationem accidunt mentemque perturbant, bona plane et maxime optanda cst, sed nee ipsa huius est vitae .... Apatheia ista erit

quando peccatum inhomine nullum erit."


the happiness of the afterlife. In the afterlife, however} they are purged of all sorrow and fear. 19

One could hardly ask for a more passionate defense of Christian love against pagan wisdom. But apart from spelling out conflicts between emerging Christian doctrine and ancient Stoic teachings} Augustine made at least two important contributions to later treatments of the passions. First, he stripped the eu from the eupatheiai. Where voluntas had previously been restricted to the virtuous, Augustine insisted that it is found. equally in the wicked. This leads Neal Gilbert to suggest that what Augustine introduced into philosophy was not the concept of the will but the concept of the evil will. 20 Though Gilbert's point is well taken, it would be less misleading to say that Augustine presented voluntas as the potential expression of either virtue or vice and so helped lay the foundation for later conceptions of voluntas as a faculty of the soul. Gaudiuill, too, became potentially good or bad} so that joy was no longer the prerogative of the righteous. If the virtuous could rejoice in their goodness} the wicked could rejoice in their iniquity.

Second} Augustine argued that even the elect suffer from disordered passions in the present life. St. Paul's lament in Romans was cited as evidence: "I delight in the law of God in my inmost self} but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin which dwells in my members. I! According to Augustine} Paul's remark must apply to the recipient of grace, for only through grace can the inner man delight in God}s law.2.1 Even the best of us must struggle with our base passions: we may resist them} but we can do little to improve them.

Augustine's description of temperance provides further evidence of his dim view of the human condition:

... What is the activity of virtue here but a perpetual war with vices?-not external vices but internal} not alien but clearly our very OWfl-a war waged especially by what is called sophrosyne in

19. Ibid.: "Beata vera eademque aeterna amorem habebit et gaudium non solurn rectum verum etiam certum, timorem autem ac dolorem nullum."

20. liThe Concept of the will in Early Latin Philosophy," Journal of the History of Philosophy 1(1963): 18.

2I. De nuptiis et concupiscentia, I, 33.

2ID VIRTUES OF THE WILL

Greek and temperantia in Latin, which bridles our fleshly lusts lest they drag our will to consent to crimes of every sort. For it is not the case that no vice exists when 'the flesh lusts against the spirit,' as the Apostle says. There exists a virtue opposed to this vice when 'the spirit lusts against the flesh}' as the same Apostle says. 'These two/ he says, 'are so opposed to each other that you do not do the things you would.' But what is it that we would when we wish to be perfected in the supreme good, unless it be that the flesh should not lust against the spirit, and that there should be no vice in us for the spirit to lust against? But since we do not have the strength to accomplish that in the present life} however much we may will it, at least with God's help we can act so that we do not yield to the lust of the flesh against the spirit by surrendering the spirit, and so that we are not dragged with our consent to commit sin. 22

This conception of temperance more closely approximates Aristotle's account of continence than it does the conceptions of temperance found in either Aristotle or the ancient Stoics. For the ancients, St. Paul would hardly have represented the pinnacle of moral development. For Augustine he did. Paul's battle with "fleshly lusts" was taken as the struggle of a temperate man, and the classical ideal of virtue as internal harmony was pronounced unattainable in the present life.

Scholastics differ from both Aristotle and Augustine in drawing a strong distinction between rational desire and irrational desire, or between will and sense appetite. The sense appetite, a faculty 'of the body-soul composite, is the seat of those feelings and emotions most properly called passions. Passions in the strict sense are essentially connected with bodily changes, as anger increases the pulse

22. De civitate Dei, XIX, 4: " . .. Quid hic agit [virtus] nisi perpetua bella cum vitUs, nec exterioribus, sed interioribus, nec alienis, sed plane nostris et propriis, maxime illa quae Graece sophrosyne, Latine temperantia nominatur, qua camales frenantur libidines ne in quaeque flagitia mentem consentientem trahant? Neque enim nullum est vitium, cum, sicut dicit apostolus, carD concupiscit adversus spiritumj cui vitio contraria virtus est, cum sicut idem dicit, spiritus concupiscit adversus carnem. Haec enim, inquit, invicem adversantur, ,ut non ea quae vultis faciatis. Quid autem facere volumus, cum perfici volumus fine summi boni, nisi ut caro adversus spiritum non concupiscat, nec sit in nobis hoc vitium contra quod spiritus concupiscat? Quod in hac vita, quamvis velimus, quoniam facere non valemus, id saltem in adiutorio Dei facimus, ne carniconcupiscenti adversus spiritum spiritu succumbente cedamus et ad perpetrandum peccatum nostra consensione pctrahamur."

VIRTUES OF THE WILL 2II

and fear causes trembling. Because the will is a spiritual faculty, it cannot have passions of this kind. Those passions attributed to the will are always passions in the loose sense: changes of soul without correlative bodily alterations. Granted, a passion of the will might 11 overflow" into the sense appetite and thereby produce some change in the body: the flush of a victorious chess player, for example, or the ashen face of a mathematician whose theorem has just been disproved. The division between the rational and the irrational soul was not an unbridgeable chasm. Scholastics nonetheless held that passions of the will, which owe more to the judgment of the intellect than to the apprehension of the senses, have no necessary relation to the body.

The need to posit some entirely spiritual passions becomes clearer when one considers the theological background. How could punishment and reward in the afterlife be explained if a separated soul can feel no pain or pleasure? One might perhaps argue that all reward is postponed until separated souls are united with resurrected bOBies on the last day, but that suggestion, even when supported by a pope, drew sharp protests from the theological faculty at Paris.23 The accepted view was that the souls of the just enjoy the Beatific Vision immediately after death, a doctrine that presupposes that separated souls are capable of experiencing pleasure. That spiritual pleasure cannot be some passion of the sense appetite, because the serise appetite does not remain when the soul is separated from the body. The pleasure enjoyed by separated souls must therefore be a pleasure of the will, a purely rational pleasure having no necessary connection with the hody. Hence we often find scholastics attribut~ ing gaudium to the will, though they are careful to remind us that the will's passions are not passions in the strict sense.

As we know, purely rational passions also figured prominently in Stoic doctrine, and in Cicero's works voluntas itself was numbered among them. When voluntas and the other eupatheiai ceased being restricted to the virtuous, what remained was their rational character. That meant, in scholastic psychology, that such passions beM

long to the rational part of the soul-to rational appetite rather than

23. On John XXII's ill-fated "retardation theory" of the Beatific Vision see H. Rashclan, The Universities of Europe in the Middle Ages, ed. F. Powicke and A. EmdeD, vol.

I (Oxford, 1936), 552-54.


to intellect/ since the Aristotelian attribution of passion to appetite had prevailed over the Stoic attribution of passions to the mind. VoJuntas} as rational appetite, accordingly became the subject of rational passions. In suml while theological considerations provided additional incentive to posit passions of the will, the doctrine itself can be seen as a legacy of Stoicism, transmitted in altered form by Augustine. 24

By the late thirteenth century, passions of the will were routinely acknowledged. Terminology was more or less standardized. Delectatio, for example, was the generic term for pleasure; gaudium sig~ nified a pleasure of the will; and concupiscentia signified a pleasure of the sense appetite. Gaudium, like other passions of the will, was not restricted, to the virtuous. This notion of rational passions, along with the strong distinction between will and sense appetite, can be seen as the common ground on which scholastics debated more specific questions of ethics and psychology.

Despite their shared conception of the sense appetite, scholastics disagreed about that appetite's relation to reason. Thomas, Godfrey, and others of an intellectualist bent argued that reason can order the passions of the sense appetite. Henry of Ghent and many Franciscans replied that reason can influence the sense appetite only by way of the will. Thus some of the same disagreements that fueled debate about moral weakness carried over into debates about the virtues. Those masters who allowed for direct relations between reason and passion tended to posit virtues in the sense appetite. Those who insisted on the will's role as intermediary tended to make the moderation of passion a function of the will. So, even if one held that moral virtues moderate passions of the sense appetite, it was not a foregone conclusion that moral virtues belong to the sense appetite.

Merit and Free Decision

Bonaventure's commentary on the Sentences discusses the location of the virtues from a staildpoint common among earlier thir-

24. This is not to suggest that the doctrine is purely Stoic or Augustinian, since scholastics incorporated it into a broadly Aristotelian framework. If their psychology as a whole differs from Aristotle's, it is still closer to Aristotle's than it is to the monistic psychology of the ancient Stoa. And as scholastics work Stoic concepts into an Aristo-

VIRTUES OF THE WILL 21 3

teenth-century writers: it focuses on the cardinal virtues as the product of grace and the foundation of merit. Because merit is rooted in free decision, Bonaventure argues, the cardinal virtues must belong to those powers that share in free decision. To posit temperance and courage in the sense appetite is not only to place them beyond the scope of free decision but also to suggest that they are worth less than justice. Bonaventure remarks that the attribution of virtues to the lower soul, however probable it may seem to moral philosophers, does not seem reasonable to a theologian. 25

Later masters will usually classify the cardinal virtues as naturally acquired habits that make us morally good, not as supernaturally infused virtues enabling us to perform meritorious acts. Since Bonaventure accepts the older view of the cardinal virtues, his argument for positing virtues only in reason and will does not necessarily apply to virtuous habits acquired by practice. Perhaps for that very reason he expressly extends his conclusion to all virtues, arguing that even acquired virtues, insofar as they are virtues, must belong to the rational part of the soul. Virtues are attributed to the lower part of the soul only because habituation makes it more manageable. If virtues exist in some fashion in the sense appetite, they nevertheless exist principally in the rational soul, for the rational soul commands while the sense appetite merely obeys.26

Are those habits that make the sense appetite more submissive

telian framework, so they also incorporate platonic concepts-e.g., the irascible and

concupiscible appetites. 25. Sent., III, 'd. 33, a. un, q. 3, resp.: "Licet autem hie modus dicendi aliquo modo

probabilis videatur secundum morales philosophos, tamen secundum theologum non videtur rationabiliter diei, quasdam virtutes cardinales reponi in parte superiori et quasdam in inferiorij cum omnes virtutes cardinales aequales sint quantum ad meriti dignitatemj omnes etiam sunt principium merendi. Et propterea, cum meritum consistat radicaliter circa liberum arbitrium, in soUs illis potentiis habent esse virtutes, sive cardinales sive theologicae, in quibus reperitur libertas arbitrii. Propter quod, cum Ubertas arbitrii non sit nisi in parte animae rationali, secundum quod rationale dicitur quod participat rationemj necesse est, ceteras virtutes cardinales in parte ilIa reponi. Et hoc necessaria exigit earum digni~asi cum ipsae habeant ortum a gratia, et sint perfectiones animae multo nobiliores quam ipsa scientia, quae ponitur tanquam in subiecto in parte animae rationali et intellectiva" (Quaracchi ed., IIl, 7nl·

26. Ibid., ad 4: "Ad ilIud quod obiicitur, quod consuetudinales virtutes reponuntur in ea parte, quae obtemperat rationi; dicendum, quod hoc non est, quia habitus consuetudinalis virtutis, secundum quod virtus est, habeat esse in illa parte sensibili, quae rationali obtemperat; sed quia ex quadam consuetudine bene faciendi in parte illa relin-


to reason necessary, albeit secondary, components of moral virtue? Bonaventure's answer is ambiguous. While he denies that the "manageability" of the sense appetite is essential to virtue, he acknowledges that it is 11 annexedll to virtue. 27 This might mean that someone with the virtue of courage can have only fears that are easily managed by the rational soul, and yet what it is to be courageous-the essence of courage-is choosing the appropriate actions, not having the appropriate feelings. Then again, Bonaventure might mean that someone who consistently chooses to act courageously, no matter how disordered his emotions, would still have the virtue of courage, because the manageability of the sense appetite is merely an accidental adjunct to the virtue of the wilL

The most one can say with certainty is that Bonaventure draws a sharp distinction between the higher part of the soul, which we have in common with angels, and the lower part, which we share with animals. Insofar as the sense appetite merely obeys reason, it is not properly human. Virtuous acts are elicited directly by the rational powers of the soul; they are elicited by lower powers only as a sort of consequence. In the same way, Bonaventure argues, the hand is rectified in giving when the will is rectified in dispensing, and yet liberality is not in the hand but in the will. '"

Here it might help to recall that one of the most controversial issues of the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries was the unicity of the substantial form.29 Aquinas, Giles of Rome, and likeminded masters taught that the only substantial form in man is th,e

quitur quaedam habilitas. Et ideo potest dupliciter ad rationcm illam responderi: primum quidem, quia non est simile de virtute cardinali et consuetudinali, secundum quod consuetudinalis est: quia cardinalis virtus nominat habitum dirigcntemin operibus electivae, consuetudinalis vera praeter hoc nominat habitum aequisitum ex fre· quenti bene agere.-Aliter ctiam responderi potest per interemptionem minoris: quia consuetudinalis virtus, etsi aliquo modo sit in parte sensibili quasi in exsequente et subiaeentej in rationali vera est principaliter tanquam in imperantc actum virtutis et potentiae sensibili praesidente" (Quaracchi cd., Ill, 718).

2.7. Ibid., ad I: "Et in his non eonsistit libertas arbitrii, nee in his sicut in subieeto ponitur vietus cardinalis, licet per frequentem assuefactionem aliquo modo ilIae potentiae non incongrue dieantur habilitari; illa tamen habilitatio non est de virtutis es· sentia, sed potius sibi annexa" (Quarrachi cd., Ill, 717).

28. Ibid., ad 3 (Quaracchi ed.,III, 718). 29. For a helpful summary see Zavalloni, Richard de Mediavilla et la controverse

sur lapluralite des formes (Lollvain, 1951).


rational soul. The rational soul is both the form of the body and the form of the composite, so that it is the same form that makes the body be a body and makes the soul and body together be a human being. In contrast, Bonaventure and most Franciscans argued that the body has existence through its own form. The rational soul does indeed make the body-soul composite a person, just as it makes the body be alive and capable of sensation, but it does not make the body a body. One need not explore the metaphysical and theological issues connected with these two positions to recognize that the relation between the rational soul and the body is not as close in Franciscan thought as it is in Thomism. Bonaventure's tendency to regard the lower soul as not properly human reflects, in part, his metaphysical views.

This is not to say, however, that Bonaventure's position on the location of the virtues is simply a corollary of his metaphysics and theology. He consistently emphasizes that virtue must lie within the scope of free decision: it must, in effect, be within the agent's controL At the same time, his emphasis on virtue as the basis of merit has no small significance. It is one thing to see virtues as traits of character that make us happy, another to see them as traits of character that make us deserving of happiness. All scholastic theologians, including Aquinas, taught that perfect happiness is possibly only in the afterlife, and yet even God-given virtues do not guarantee that the happiness of the afterlife will eventually be attained. Thus virtues became what make us deserving or worthy of happiness (albeit not in the strict sense, since no one can truly deserve the happiness of etemallife). This conception of virtue, so prominent in Bonaventure's thought, undoubtedly influenced scholastic treatments of even naturally acquired virtues.

Instead of dismissing Bonaventure's views as nothing more than theology, suppose we pause to consider whether some of the moral virtues that Aristotle describes are genuine virtues. Is wittiness, for example, a virtue? Would we judge someone who lacks that trait all other things being equal, morally inferior to someone who pos~ sesses it? If we are tempted to answer that wittiness is admirable and yet irrelevant from the moral point of view, we must then consider what we mean by the "moral point of view. 11 Why do we tend to think justice moral but wittiness amoral? Because we can help being unjust, though we cannot help being boring? Because, try as

2I6 VIRTUES OF THE WILL

we might to make scintillating conversation, we might never get the hang of it? Even if morality demands that we try, it does not seem to demand that we succeed.

Perhaps Bonaventure's understanding of moral virtue is not as alien to our own as it initially appears. The Stoic restriction of morality to what lies within the agenfs control did much to create that Ilmoral point of view ll which still shapes our intuitions. Of course, Christian writers had additional incentive to place virtues like wittiness beyond the moral pale. The God's-eye view of moral theology made some of the excellences of Athenian gentlemen look frivolous, while Christian emphasis on what lies "in the heart" tended to make choice and intention far more important than bodily action and success in producing results. The theological viewpoint nonetheless has older philosophical roots in Stoicism. The distant origins should be kept in mind when considering the scholastic literature, for what Bonaventure invites us to see as the difference between the theologian's view and the moral philosopher's is, from another perspective, a difference within moral philosophy,.

Just Actions and Ordered Emotions

Thomistic teachings on the location of the moral virtues reflect the conviction that the good of anything depends on its nature. As there is no sense appetite in God and the angels, Aquinas argues, it is fitting that their goodness be without passion, just as it is without bodily action. Good human activi ty, on the other hand, is with pas'sion, just as it is assisted by the body. Moderate passions of the sense appetite accordingly make us better than we would be otherwise:

Just as it is better that man both will the good and bring it about in an external act, so it belongs to the perfection of moral good that man be moved to the good not only by the will but also by the sense appetite, as is said in Psalm 83 [84:2J: I(My heart and flesh exult in the liVing God,l/ so that we take I(heart" for the intellectual appetite and "flesh" for the sense appetite.30

30. ST Hlae, q. 24, a. 3: "Sicut igitur melius est quod homo et velit bonum et faciat exteriori actui ita etiam ad perfectionem boni moralis pertinet quod homo. ad bonum

VIRTUES OF THE WILL 2I7

From the beginning of his career to the end, Aquinas taught that justice, which governs actions, belongs to the will; temperance and courage, which order the passions, belong to the sense appetite. The same position Aquinas defends in his commentary on the Sentences is likewise defended in De veritate, the Summa theologiae, and the disputed questions De virtutibus. Although some new arguments are advanced in the later works, the basic position remains unchanged.3l We shall review some of Aquinas's arguments for this position in the Summa! compare them with his commentary on Aristotle's Ethics! and then consider how the attribution of virtues to the sense appetite relates to other Thomistic moral doctrines.

In q. 56! a. 4 of the Prima secundae, Aquinas discusses four objections to positing virtues in the sense appetite: (I J Human virtue must be proper to human beings. Since the sense appetite is common to men and beasts, it cannot be the subject of human virtue. 121 The sense appetite is connected with the body, and yet St. Paul says, "I know that the good does not dwell in my flesh." 131 Augustine argves that virtue is in the part of the soul governing the body, but as the soul controls the body! so reason controls the sense appetite. The governance of the sense appetite is therefore due entirely to the rational part of the soul. 141 Choice is the principal act of moral virtue! and choice is not an act of the sense appetite.

In the body of the article Aquinas explains that the irascible and concupiscible powers can be considered in two ways. Considered in their own right, these powers are parts of the sense appetite and as such cannot be subjects of virtue; but insofar as they participate in and obey reason, they can indeed be subjects of virtue. IIIn this ",,?"ay," Thomas says! 11 each power is the principle of a human act insofar as it participates in reason, and in these powers it is neces-

moveatur, non solum secundum voluntatem, sed etiam secundum appetitum sensiti· vum, secundum illud quod in Psal. 83 dicitur: Cor meum et CQro mea exultaverunt in Deum vivum, ut cor accipiamus pro appetitu intellectivo, carnem autem pro appetitu sensitivo." See also ibid., q. 59, a. 5, corp. &. ad 3.

31. For discussion of the relevant texts see T. Graf, De subiecto virtutum cardinalium, vol. 2, pt. 2 of De subiecto psychico gratiae et virtutum secundum doctrinam scholasticorum usque ad medium saeculum XIV (Rome, 1935), I-II8, esp. II4-18.

While my own reading of Aquinas's arguments occasionally differs from GraPs, I completely agree with his conclusion that there was no significant development in Aqui· nas's thinking on this particular issue.

2I8 VIRTUES OF THE WILL

sary to posit virtues.,,32 Note that this remark can apply to the intellectual appetite as well as to the sense appetite, thus paving the way for the claim that justice is a virtue of the will.

Aquinas argues that we must posit virtues in the irascible and concupiscible powers because they are proximate causes of virtuous acts. Granted, these powers move only insofar as they are moved by a higher faculty, hut that is no objection to positing virtues in them} for both the moving or commanding power and the power commanded or moved must he well disposed if the act is to be complete:

So, where the irascible and concupiscible powers act as they are moved by reason, it is necessary that some perfecting habit to acting well be not only in reason but also in the irascible and con~ cupsicible powers. And because the good disposition of the moved moving power comes from conformance with the power moving it, virtue in the irascible and concupiscible powers is nothing other than a certain habitual conformity of those powers to reason.33

To the first objection Aquinas replies that the irascible and con~ cupiscible powers are proper to human beings insofar as they are obedient to reason and rational by participation. His reply to the second objection is more problematic. Though he agrees that the flesh does not have the good of virtue in its own right, Aquinas argues that it becomes the instrument of the virtuous act insofar as it is moved by reason to serving virtue. The same holds for the irascible and concupiscible powers: If Insofar as they are brought to

32. ST I-IIae, q. 56, a. 4, corp.: "Dicendum quodirascibilis et concupiscibilis dupliciter considerari possunt. Uno modo secundum se, inquantum sunt partes appetitus sensitivi, et hoc modo non competit eis quod sint subiectwn virtutis, Alio modo possunt considerari inquantum participant rationem, per hoc quod natae sunt rationi obedire, et sic irascibilis et concupiscibilis potest subiectum virtutis humanae: sic enim est principium humani actus, inquantum participat rationem; et in his potentiis necesse

est ponere virtutes." 33. Ibid.: "In his igitur circa quae operatur irascibilis et concupiscibilis secundum

quod sunt a ratione motae, necesse est ut aliquis habitus perficiens ad bene agendum sit non solurn in ratione, sed etiam in irascibili et concupiscibili. Et quia bona dispositio potentiae moventis motae attenditur secundum conformitatem ad potentiam moventem, ideo virtus quae est in irascibili et concupiscibili, nihil aliud est quam quaedam habitualis conformitas istarum potentiarum ad rationem."

VIRTUES OF THE WILL 2I9

conform to reason, the good of moral virtue is begotten in them."34

The analogy here must be a loose one, for Thomas does not believe that the body can be the subject of moral virtue, and he does believe that the sense appetite can be. The difference between the two is indicated subtly: the flesh, in being moved by reason, can become the instrument of the virtuous act; the sense appetite, in being conformed to reason, can have moral virtue begotten in it.

Aquinas answers the third objection by appealing to a distinction in Book I, chapter 5 of Aristotle's Politics, between the soul's control over the body and reason's control over appetite. Aquinas compares the first to a master-slave relationship: in those areas where it is constituted to be moved by the soul, the body immediately obeys. In contrast, reason's relationship to the irascibile and concupiscible powers is more on the order of a political rule. Because the irascible and concupiscible powers are capable of rebellion, they need virtues disposing them to obey reason's commands.3s

Of course, Aquinas does not attribute all moral virtues to the sense appetite. As his reply to the fourth objection indicates, the sense appetite needs only those virtues that moderate the passions. Because temperance and courage produce an internal order, no additional virtue in the will is needed: virtues of the sense appetite suifice.36 Aquinas posits justice in the will because it moderates actions, thereby ordering the agent's relations to others rather than

34. Ibid., ad 2: "Dicendum quod sicut caro hominis ex se quidem non habet bonum virtutis, fit tamen instrumentum virtuosi actus, inquantulli, movente ratione, membra nostra exhibemus ad serviendum iustitiae; ita etiam irascibilis et concupiscibilis ex se quidem non habent bonum virtutis, sed magis inIectionem fomitis; inquantum vero conformantur rationi, sic in eis aggeneratur bonum virtutis moralis./J

35. Ibid., ad 3: J/ Ad tertium dicendum, quod alia ratione regitur corpus ab anima, et irascibilis et concupiscibilis a ratione: corpus enim ad nutum obedit animae absque contradictione in his, in quibus natum est ab anima moverii unde phil. dicit in I Polit. (cap. 5), quod anima regit corpus despotico principatu, idest sicut dominus servum, et ideo totus motus corporis refertur ad animam; et propter hoc in corpore non est virtus, sed solum in anima; sed irascibilis, et concupiscibils non obediunt ad nutum rationi; sed habent proprios motus suos, quibus interdum rationi repugnant; unde in eodem libro Philos. dicit, quod ratio regit irascibilem, et concupisciblem principatu politico, quo scilicet reguntur liberi, qui habent in aliquibus propriam voluntatemj et propter hoc etiam oportet in irascibili, et concupiscibili esse aliquas virtutes, quibus bene disponantur ad actum. JI

36. Ibid., ad 4; a. 6, ad 3.

220 VI R TUES OF THE WILL

her internal condition.37 This basic division between temperance and courage, on the one hand, and justice} on the other, is defended on other grounds as well. Aquinas suggests, for example, that temperance and courage are for the,good of the possessor, whereas justice is in some sense for anothees good.3s (Although this makes justice sound self-sacrificing, the distinction between goods does little more than restate the earlier distinction between internal emotional order and external actions.) More important, Aquinas argues that justice observes lithe mean of the thing": a certain proportion of equality of the external thing to the external person. Since the will follows the apprehension of the intellect, and only through the intellect can the proportion relevant to justice be apprehended, jus~ tice must belong to the will. This is not the case for virtues moder~ ating the passions, where the mean is a mean of reason determined with reference to the agent herself.39

In other words, justice requires impersonal, objective judgments, whereas virtues moderating the passions find the mean in one place or another, depending on the emotional makeup of the individual. The basis for this view is Ethics H, where Aristotle explains why the virtuous mean is not the same for all. The appropriate amount of food for a mature and active athlete would be far too much for some~ one just beginning to train. The mean in such instances is not lIin relation to the thing,1! as if there were some objectively moderate quantity of food suitable for all persons on all occasions; instead the mean is in relation to the individual person (EN I 106a27~1 106b1oJ.· One might conclude that the mean regarding the desire for food' is similarly relative, and the same could be said of the mean for every virtue that brings an internal order. As regards justice, however, the

37. ST II-IIae, q. 58, a. 8, corp.: "Dicendum quod omnia quaecumque rectificari possunt per rationem sunt materia virtutis moralis, quae definitur per rationem rectam.

.. Possunt autem per rationem rectificari et interiores animae passiones, et extcriores

actiones, et res exteriores quae in usum hominis veniunt, sed tamen per exteriores actiones et per exteriores res, quibus sibi invicemhomines communicare possunt, attendi

tur ordinatio unius hominis ad alterum; secundum autem interiores passiones consi

deratur rectificatio hominis seipso. Et ideo, cum iustitia ordinetur ad alterum, non est circa totam materiam virtutis moralis, sed solum circa exteriores actiones et res secun

dum quandam rationem obiecti specialem, prout scilicet secundum eas unus homo al

teri coordinatur."

38. See, for example, ST ll-IIae, q. 58, a. 12.

39. Ibid., q. 58, aa. 4,10,11.


mean is determined without consideration of how the agent is alfected. There is some objectively right act to be performed. In determining what that act is in any given situation, the agent's internal condition is irrelevant.

Aristotle himself does not say that some moral virtues order the passions while others govern actions. Nevertheless, his account of justice does focus mainly on actions, while his accounts of temper~ ance and courage give greater prominence to passions. Consider, for example, the opening lines of Ethics V:

With regard to justice and injustice, we must consider what kind of actions they are concerned with, what sort of mean justice is, and between what extremes that just act is intermediate .... We see that all men mean by justice that kind of state which makes people disposed to do what is justi and similarly by injustice that state which makes them act unjustly and wish for what is unjust. Let us too, then, first lay this down as a rough sketch. (EN 1129a3-12)

The emphasis on actions is signaled at the outset. A connection between justice and the will might also be suggested by Grosseteste's translation, which renders boulontai ta dikaia as voluntiusta.4o

Aquinas's commentary on the Ethics explains what he sees as Aristotle's basic division of the moral virtues:

After the Philosopher has finished discussing the moral virtues that are concerned with the passions, here he discusses the virtue of justice, which is concerned with actions .... He proposes for consideration three points on which justice differs from the aforementioned virtues. He touches on the first of these when he says that we must direct our attention to the kinds of actions with which justice and injustice are concerned. The aforementioned virtues and vices are concerned with the passions, for'what is principally considered in them is how a man is internally affected by the passionsi but what he does externally is not considered except as a consequence, namely, insofar as external actions proceed from internal passions. As regards justice and injustice, however, we pay special attention to what a man does externallYi yet how he is in-

40. Ethica Nicomachea trans. Robt. Grosseteste, cd. R.-A. Gamhier, in Aristoteles Latinus, XXVI-3, 227.


temally affected is not considered except as a consequence, namely, as someone is aided or impeded in action.

He touches on the second point of difference when he says: I( And what sort of mean is justice amI the just deed," i.e., the object of justice. For in the virtues previously discussed we take the mean of reaSOn and not of the thingi but in justice we take the mean of the thing, as will be said beloW.41

The third difference Aquinas touches on-that justice is not a mean between two vices-need not concern us here. The first two points suffice to show that the basic division between moral virtues in Aquinas's theological works reflects his reading of Aristotle's Ethics. Justice deals with external actions; temperance and courage order internal passions. The mean of the thing pertains to justicei the mean of reason pertains to the other virtues.

An important problem remains: Aristotle says that the principal act of moral virtue is choice. Since choice is an act of the will, some masters will claim that all moral virtues, as habits of choice, must belong to the will. The.relation between virtue and choice would seem to argue against positing virtues in the sense appetite.

Aquinas was plainly familiar with this argument, for it is the last of the four objections considered in the Prima secundae against pos~ iting virtues in the sense appetite. He replies that choice involves two things: intention of the end, which pertains to moral virtue, and determination of the means to the end, which pertains to prudence. The right intention of an end concerning the passions comes

41. Sent. lib. Ethic., V, lect. I: "Postquam Philosophus determinavit de virtutibus moralibus, quae sunt circa passiones, hie determinat de virtute justitiae, quae est circa operationes .... Et proponit tria circa iustitiam consideranda in qUibus differt iustitia a supra dictis virtutibus. Quorumprimum tangit cum dicitquodintendendum est circa quales operationes sint iustitia et iniustitia. Virtutes enim et vitia de quibus supra dictum est sunt circa passiones, quia scilicet in eis principaliter consideratur qualitcr homo interlus afficiatur secundum passiones, sed quid exterius operetur non consideratur nisi ex consequenti, in quantum scilicet operationes exteriores ex interioribus passionibus proveniunt. Sed circa iustitiam et iniustitiam praecipue attenditur quid homo exterius operatur, qualiter autem afficiatur interius non consideratur nisi ex consequenti, prout scilicet aliquis iuvatur vel impeditur circa operationem. Secundum autem tangit cum dicit: Et qualis medietas est iUstitia et iustum, quod scilicet est obiectumiustitiae. In praehabitis enim virtutibus aCcipitur medium radonis et non rei, sed in iustitia accipitur medium rei, ut infra dicetur" iLeonine ed., XLVII-2, 264).


from (contingit ex) the good disposition of the sense appetite. So, Thomas concludes, virtues must be posited in the sense appetite.42

This reply raises two questions. First, what is an end concerning the passions? Second, in what sense can a right intention come from the good disposition of the sense appetite?

The answer to the first question presupposes Aquinas's division of the virtues: the function of justice is to control actionsi the function of temperance and courage is to order the passions. But even though virtues of the sense appetite have passions as their subject matter, they have various actions as their effects.43 For example, when the desire for food is moderated by temperance, the act of eating moderately will be the result. Aquinas regards the eating as merely the effect of temperance because, in his view, what it is to be temperate is to be well ordered internally.

The answer to the second question should be evident if one recalls the Thomistic account of moral weakness. Passions can distort reason's judgmenti the will is strongly inclined to choose what reason judges goodi and so it is necessary that passions be moderated. Someone with a passionate craving for sweets might well judge it good to eat a half-gallon of ice cream and a pound of cookies. By moderating such passions, the virtue of temperance keeps the agent from making a bad choice.

If passion can prevent one from acting temperately, can it not equally prevent one from acting justly? Aquinas agrees that it can. To say that justice governs actions is not to deny that someone with immoderate passions, particularly someone with an excessive desire for gain} will be prevented from acting justly. Nevertheless, it is the business of justice to rectify actions. It is the business of other virtues to moderate the passions. 44 The psychological division of la-

42. ST HIae, q. 56, a. 4, ad 4: 11 Ad quartum dicendum, quod in electione duo sunt; scilicet, intentio finis, quae pertinet ad virtutem moralem; et praeacceptio eius, quod est ad finem, quod pertinet ad prudentiam, ut dicitur in 6 Ethic.: quod autem habeat rectam intentionem finis circa passiones animae, hoc contingit ex bona dispositione irascibilis, et concupiscibilis: et ideo virtutes morales circa passiones sunt in irascibili, et concupiscibili: sed prudentia est in ratione."

43. Ibid., q. 60, a. 2, corp. 44. ST IHIae, q. 58, a. 9, ad 2: "Rectificatio ergo operationum, secundum quod ad

exteriora terminantur, pertinet ad iustitiam; sed rectificatio earum, secundum quod a passionibus oriuntur, pertinet ad alias virtutes morales, quae sunt circa passiones. Unde surreptionem_alienae rei iustitia impedit, inquantum est contra aequalitatem in


bor poses no problem, because Thomas thinks that all moral virtues are necessarily connected through a single indivisible prudence. 45 If it were possible to possess the virtue of justice without the virtue of temperance, the division of labor might have to be changed: justice might have to do some of the work that would otherwise be done by temperance, or by some other virtue previously specialized in ordering emotions.

Arguments against Aquinas's teachings on the location of the virtues should accordingly be seen as part of a wider dialogue in which related issues in ethics as well as issues in psychology help to deter- _ mine a master IS views. The disputes in psychology and ethics we have already reviewed should give some sense of the wider context. We turn now to reservations about, and rejections of, the thesis that virtues belong to the sense appetite.

Virtues of the Will

The Cause of Virtue

WaIter of Bruges agrees that thc sense appetite can acquire habits in accord with reason. He is even prepared to call those habits virtues. Nevertheless, Walter argues that the will needs virtues more than the sense appetite does~not only because it commands the sense appetite but also because it is more rational, and because it is mOTe free. Though all of these arguments were at least sketched by Bonaventurc, the last raises problems in a period when the will's freedom is fast becoming a divisive issue. If a moral habit deter-' mines a power to the same kind of acts that generated it, how can the will remain free to sin after acquiring virtue, or free to do well after acquiring vice? To appreciate the scope of the difficulty, we 1p.ust return briefly to Aristotles teachings.

Recall that Aristotle classified virtue as ahexis-literally, a IIhavingll~hence translated as "habitus" in Latin and often as the cognate "habit ll in English, Classicists commonly object to this translation, and with good reason, since the English word "habit" covers

exterioribus constituendamj liberalitas vera, inquantum pracedit ab immoderata CODcupiscentia divitiarum."

45. STI-IIae, q. 65, a. 1.


any routine performance, however trivial and easy to stop. I might be in the habit of tying my left shoe before my right; I might have been doing this for the last thirty years; and yet I could easily break the habit. Although I myself ordinarily use "habit ll for hexis, let me emphasize that Aristotle sees a hexis as a special kind of quality. It differs from other qualities "in being more long-lasting and stable, I! so that eventually it becomes "part of mart's nature and irremediable or hard to changell (Categories 9a2-4). This idea of a "habitll as a second nature is hardly unique to Aristotle: it became a commonplace in antiquity. But here I shall only sketch its rolc in Aristotle's ethics.

Three points are worth mentioning: (1) Habit is the genus of Aristotelian virtue and vice. By nature we have the capacity to acquire virtues and vices, but the capacity must be actualized through education and practice. Hence the importance of habituation in the formation of moral character, Moral character is itself a stable constellation of habits. (2) While Aristotle places heavy emphasis on habituation, he also gives due consideration to choice, Habit is the genus of moral virtue and choice the differentia. The general idea is that morally responsible agents, those with the capacity to deliberate about their actions and choose accordingly, form their characters at least partly through exercising that capacity. Nevertheless, (3) Aristotle teaches that our characters, once formed, might well be impossible to change, that we choose in accordance with moral habits that might themselves be unbreakable. As the virtuous never do anything shameful~as they are, from the moral standpoint, infallible-so too are the vicious incurable. 46 Of course, the virtuous person might make a mistake and so might appear to have acted badly, just as the vicious person might be pressured or bribed into appropriate behavior and so might appear to have acted welL But at a deeper level these characters are quite consistent. The virtuous person never chooses badly; the vicious person never chooses well.

Present-day philosophers tend to gloss over these doctrines and to argue endlessly about akrasia, which Aristotle sees as only halfway to vice and which worries him partly because it constitutes an

46. EN lIOObI9-20, 34-35, II28b28-29 (on virtuel; IIqaII-2I, II50a2I-22 (on vice).


exception to the rule of moral consistency. By the same token, continence~the state of character in which temptation is felt hut resisted-is only halfway to virtue. For Aristotle virtue proper is infallible, just as vice proper is incurable. Once moral habits become second nature, the agent might well be unable to change them, and yet she remains responsible for her actions, not only because they reflect her character but also because it was once in her power to acquire a different character. Aristotle plainly sees nothing disturbing about the idea that an individual's moral character, in time, will become so fixed as to be unalterable.

Scholastics eager to defend the freedom of the will, while pleased with Aristotle's definition of virtue as a habit concerning choice! often balked at his conception of habit as a second nature. As natural causes! unless impeded! always produce the same effects! so habits! unless impeded! always produce the same effects. But if a moral habit leads a power to act as nature does! how can the will acquire such a habit and still act freely? If a fully developed moral habit determines the will to the same kind of acts that generated the habit! how can the will have such a habit and yet remain free? If moral habituation costs the agent her freedom of will! how can her actions be either praiseworthy or blameworthy? When seen in this light! the fully developed moral habits described by Aristotle look rather like unkickable drng habits. The infallibly virtuous no less than the incurably vicious might be seen as hard-core moral addicts! powerless to help behaving as they do.

Granting that habit is a "second nature/' Walter of Bruges agrees' that a moral habit leads a power to act in the manner of nature (per modum naturae).47 To reconcile this doctrine with his own view that the will can acquire moral habits and still act freely! Waiter proposes a distinction between the manner of nature and the necessity of nature. He agrees that virtue involves the first but denies that it involves the second. By the "manner of nature ll Waiter understands only a certain inclination to one of opposite acts, not a dcter-

47. Quaest. disp., q. 3, obj. 6: "Item, virtus perficit potentiam secundum modum potentiae, alias enim non expediret potentiam ad actum suum sed impediret; sed virtus perficiens potentiam inclinat ad actum per naturae modum, qui modus contrarius est voluntati, quae fertur in actu libere; ergo impossibile est quod aliqua virtus sit in volun

tate" (PB X, 24).


mination to one of them.48 While this solution has an appealing air of common sense, it leaves unexplained how the will and the virtuous habit combine to cause an act of choice~a question that some of Waiter's successors will work to answer.

Granted that the will can acquire virtues, it remains to be seen why the will needs them. Surely the will cannot need a virtuous habit to choose rightly, for if it did, it would be incapable of those acts that generate virtuous habits in the first place. But if the will requires only reason's presentation of the object to choose rightly, why does the will need virtues? If the will remains capable of sin even after acquiring virtues, so that virtue provides no assurance of moral infallibility! again! why does the will need virtues?

Waiter argues that the will needs virtues because it is not determined to act in accordance with reason even when reason discloses what is good. The will needs virtues even more than the sense appetite because it commands the sense appetite! and, as Aristotle explains in chapter 13 of Politics I, the ruler needs virtue more than the subject, the free man more than the slave. If there can be virtue in the sense appetite, because it has some degree of freedom, then even more can there be virtue in the will, for the ruler needs perfect virtue, the subject only imperfect virtue.49 Aristotle offers yet another explanation of why the will needs virtues: the temperate person is not merely one who abstains but one who delights (gaudet) in

48. Ibid., ad 6: "Praeterea, quod virtus dicitur detenninare (in) modum naturae non dicitur quia facit de necessitate potentiam fieri ad unum, sed quia inclinat ad unum oppositorum; unde dictum est 'in modum naturae,' non secundum necessitatem naturae; et additum est sic: quod 'rationi est consentaneus lll (PB X, 3r).

49. Ibid., resp.: "Nam ad hoc quod aliqua potentia possit esse subiectum virtutis, requiruntur duo, scilicet libertas et ratio, per essentiam, dico, vel per communicationem .... Si igitur in appetitu sensitivo potest esse virtus, quia in ipso est aliquid libertatis, I Politicorum, ultimo, et quia obedit rationi, I Ethicorum, ultimo, multo fortius in voluntate deHberativa potest esse virtus .... Secundo, magis indiget quia voluntas est aliarum virium imperativa; ipsa enim domina sui actus et aliarum, secundum An

selmum, De {cancordia praescientia Dei cum} gratia et libero arbitria IT: 'Voluntas, inquit, movet se et alia instrumenta,' id est potentias qui bus sponte utitur. Et ideo sicut sol plus indiget luce quam alia stella, quia pro se et aliis, quia omnes habent lumen a sole ... , et sicut praelatus plus indiget virtute quam subditus, secundum illud I Politicarum, 8 [I31: 'Si principans nonfuerit iustus, quomodo principabitur iuste?' immo, ut ibidem dicit: 'Principans indiget virtute perfecta, subiectis autem, ut puero, mulieri, servo, sufficit virtus imperfecta, scilicet ut obediant ductori,' ita voluntas plus indiget virtute quam alia potentia cui dominatur vel imperat" (PB X, 29).


abstaining,SO Waiter declares such delight to be impossible without virtue, though he does not say expressly that this pleasure is a pleasure of the will.

Despite his emphasis on the willis need for virtues, Waiter does not insist that all moral virtues must bc habits of the will. All moral virtues are indeed elective habits} and as such they all presuppose the rule of reason and a rightly ordered will. Thus one might say that every moral virtue is in the will and even in reason inasmuch as those faculties cause the virtue, but this/ Waiter adds, 'does not entail that every moral virtue is in the will or reason as in a subject. 51

This concession to Aquinas comes as a surprise after arguments intended to show that the will needs virtues far more than the powers it commands. In the body of the question Waiter seems to be suggesting that at least some virtues must be posited in both the will and the sense appetite. The will needs complete or perfect virtue so that it can command rightly; the sense appetite needs only incomplete or imperfect virtue in order to obey the will's commands. One might infer that temperance and courage belong principally to the will and secondarily to the sense appetite. Waiter himself concludes that those habits, though caused by the will, are nonetheless virtues of the sense appetite.

Later voluntarists will demonstrate less interest in WaIter's conclusion than in the texts from Politics I, chapter 13 he cites as support. Aquinas, remember, argues for virtues of the sense appeti~e partly by appealing to subjects' need for a disposition to obey their ruler. Other masters will welcome the political analogy but emphasize instead the relation between freedom, ruling, and command-

50. Ibid., resp.: "Patet ergo ex iis duabus rationibus quod ubi actus est proportionatus potentiae secundum substantiam actus, requiritur tamen virtus ut actus huiusmodi circumstantietur et bene fiat. Non enim temperatus est qui a delectabilibus abstinet, sed qui abstinet et hoc ipso gaudet; abstinere enim potest sine Virtute, sed gaudere non potest sine virtute" jPB X, 28).

5 r. Ibid., ad 3: "Quia igitur ad omnem virtutem moralem praeexigitur electio medii vel alicuius quod est ad finem intentum necessarium et electio est actus voluntatis, omnis vinus est habitus electivus denominative dictus; et quia etiam in omni virtute est ordo et regimen rationis, etiam in definitione virtutis ponitur ratio determinata in quid ratione. Potest ergo dici quod omnis virtus est in voluntate et etiam in ratione per causam, sed non ut in subiecto" jPB X, 32).


ing, on the one hand, and moral virtue, on the other. As the virtues of subjects in Aristotle's polis are not virtues in the fullest sense since they depend on the virtues of the ruler, so the virtues of th~ sense appetite can be said to depend on the virtues of the will. Disputes about the location of the virtues will accordingly reflect considerations of politics as well as ethics, psychology, metaphysics, and theology. The connection between virtue and autonomy in Aristotle's Politics will help support arguments for attributing all moral virtues in the strict sense to the most autonomous-indeed, to some masters, the only autonomous-power of the soul.

Freedom and Habit

Henry of Ghent's Quodlibet IV (Christmas 12791 defends a firmly voluntarist position: all moral virtues must belong to the will because all are habits inclining one to love what is good simpliciter. Although the conception of virtue as love is fundamentally Augustinian, Henry makes his usual efforts to reconcile his position with Aristotle's teachings. He argues, for example, that pleasure is indeed a sign of moral virtue; but, because only the will can take pleasure in what is good simpliciter, moral virtues must be posited in the same faculty. 52 The idea that at least some virtues moderate the emotions is no obstacle to positing all virtues in the will. Virtues lie not in how we are moved by the passions, Henry says, but in how we restrain and moderate them.

Strictly speaking, even the moderation of passion would seem to be a secondary consideration, for Henry argues that the will moves

52. Quodlibet IV, q. 22, in Quodlibeta magistIi Henrici Goethais a Gandavo doctoris solemnis (Paris, 15IB; repr. Louvain, r961), f. 139v-r: "Dicimus ergo Simpliciter propter iam dictam rationem: quod omnes morales habitus sunt in voluntate, et pertinent ad voluntatis amorem circa bonum simpliciter, vel apparens. Ita quod virtus moralis nihil aliud sit quam habitus inclinans voluntatem ad amorem boni simpliciter. Vitium autem est habitus contIarius inclinans ad amorem boni apparentis. Quod nobis maxime ex hoc apparet, quoniam, cum virtus moralis secundum Philosophum in secundo Ethicorum, sit mediatrix passionum et actionum, undecunque insurgant _et a qua vi primo oriantur: in omnibus (ut dicit in fine libri mius) maxime observandum delectabile, et delectationem, quae est passio in amante amori annexa: ita quod (ut dicitur in eadem) oportet generati habitus signum facere supervenientem delectationem, ita quod bona delectatio de bono simpliciter est signum boni habitus: et delectatio de bono apparenti est signum mali habitus. Ubi ergo nata est esse delectatio bona, ibi habet esse virtus et non alibi, hoc est voluntas rationalis non pars aliqua sensitiva."


itself to willing before it commands the sense appetite, The will accordingly acquires virtues before the sense appetite, from obeying the will's commands, develops related "impressionsll of virtue.53 At least some degree of temperance; and courage is therefore quite compatible with emotional disorder. In time, we might develop the well-ordered emotions described by Aquinas, but Henry does not see those habits of the sense appetite as virtues in their own right. All moral virtues are principally and essentially in the will. Habits of the sense appetite are virtues only insofar as they participate in virtues of the will. 54

A Thomist would surely object that Henry is ignoring human nature. Because moderate emotions make us better than we would be otherwise, we need virtues to order the unruly sense appetite. Henry replies that the sense appetite is not, by nature, rebellious. Its rebelliousness arises from original sin, not from human nature as it was created. The will, in contrast, needs virtues by its very nat~re, for by its very nature the will is indeterminate.s5

On Henry's view, morality hinges on the will's freedom, and the will's freedom requires indeterminacy. How, then, can the will acquire virtuous habits? If such habits are like natural causes, the acquisition of virtue would seem to entail a loss of freedom. A perfectly moral person would be determined to act virtuously, and yet that very determination would mean that her actions could not be virtuous. She would become a moral compulsive, no longer responsible for her actions and hence no longer deserving of praise.

53. Ibid.: "Et est magnum inconveniens dicere quod in movendo per imperium alia a se, virtutem in ipsis generat et non in se, quasi ad actionem virtutis nihil faciat nisi quod rationabiliter imperet, et vires inferiores totum opus virtu turn moralium agant, ut per hoc solum in se virtutem acquirant; immo ipsa seipsam primo in volendo rationabiliter movet priusquam alteri quodcunque rationabiliter imperet: et per hoc ex frequentia actuum prius generat virtutes in seipsa quam secundum eas aliquas impressiones faciat in inferiores" (Paris, 1518, f. I4IV).

54. Ibid.: "Et ideo sicut in voluntate non esset ponenda ViItus si deteIminata esset natuIaliter ad sequendum iudicium rationis: similiter neque in illis viribus per determinationem quae habent a voluntate; recipiunt tamen quandam impressionem virtutis ut fiant virtutis participes: inquantum scilicet natae SlUlt assuefaceIe, ut rationi subd~ntur, quia hoc naturale est eis .... Et sic sequendo frequenter rationis imperium per participationem habent in se virtutes quae sunt in voluntate per essentiam': [Paris,

1518, f. 14IV). 55. Ibid. (Paris, lSI8, f. 14U).


To deal with this problem Henry distinguishes between the will as nature, the will as deliberative, and the will as free. As merely a natural inclination, the will is determined to the good. As deliberative, the will moves reason to considering whether this particular good should or should not be pursued. Even when reason reaches a judgment, the will as deliberative remains indeterminate. Because it can choose against the judgment of right reason, it needs more than a natural inclination to the good: it needs virtue cooperating in the manner of nature (in modum naturae).56

Henry draws a sharp distinction between the will as deliberative and the will as free. As deliberative, the will is indeterminate and yet determinable; as free, the will not only is entirely indeterminate but always remains so. For it to acquire habits, even virtuous habits, would be contrary to its freedom. Because habits operate in the manner of nature, because they open the door to necessitation, Henry concludes that virtues must belong to the will as deliberative. Virtues cannot belong to the will as free. The very idea of a habit of choosing freely is problematic. 57

56. Ibid.: "Et quia in taH deliberatione voluntas indeterminata est ad utrumlibet se habens: ita etiam quod data sententia rationis adhuc potest se tenere in sua indeterminatione et praeferre in electione sua contrarium eius quod eligendum sententiavit ratio, ut determinatum fuit in alio Quolibet: ideo ut velit assentire completa deliberatione ei quod iudicatum est recta ratione, multum indiget habitu ipsum inclinante ut velit illud. Nec sufficit ad hoc illa inclinatio qua inclinatur ut natura, immo requiritur virtus cooperans in modum naturae" (Paris, 1518, f. 139r).

57· Ibid.: "Neque etiam ipsa voluntas ut libera est aliquo habitu determinatur, ne cum virtus sit inclinans ad unum in modum naturae, aliquid libertati derogetur, quia sicut possibilitas rationalis omnino per aequalem distantiam debet se habere ad opposite: et per omnimodam libertatem moveri in bonum: et per actuum frequentiam in seipsa, ut est deliberativa, generare habitus virtutum quibus inclinatur ad cito deliberandum: aut etiam praeveniendum ante omne rationis iudicium: et per hoc alliciatur ad expedite eligendum, ut sic, ilIa inclinatio a virtute in voluntate inquantum est dcllberativa in modum praecedentis inclinationis quae est in illa inquantum est natura. Est enim voluntas ut deliberativa media inter seipsam, ut est natura, detenninata omnino ad unum: ut est libera, omnino indeterminata, et semper manet nisi semetipsam detenninet. Propter quid non bene dicunt virtutem esse in, voluntate quia potest ad opposita: quasi sit in ea, secundum quod est libera detenninando eius libertatem. Hoc enim est contra naturam suam, et actio virtutis est in modum naturae" lParis, 1518, 141V). See also ibid., f. 139r: "Nec est aliquo habitu detenninabilisvollUltas inquantum est arbitrio libera quia hoc est contra naturam libertatis. Si enim a sua libertate posset in modum naturae inclinari circa aliud quam circa primum bonum nudum et aptum, posset contra suam libertatem naturalem necessitari."


Henry clearly wants to show that habituation can make virtuous acts easier and more pleasant and yet never eliminate our capacity for sin. No matter how fully developed our moral habits, we are never beyond danger of degeneration, just as we are never beyond hope of improvement. On this view, anyone who says "I couldn't help myself' or flI couldn't resist" is exaggerating. What holds for moral weakness and vice also holds 'for goodness. A generous person, having just given a large sum to aid the homeless, might well disclaim, "I had no choice, /I but the disclaimer should not be taken seriously. The gift is praiseworthy precisely because the donor did have a choice, and she chose, freely, to act in accordance with her admirable moral habits.

Ironically, in protecting the freedom of the will from all forms of determination} Henry has gone some way toward protecting the will from virtues. The inclination to choose in accordance with one's pattern of past choices has become external to the will as a faculty of choice. The relation between virtues of the will and lIimpressions" of virtue in the sense appetite is likewise problematic. Granted, moderate emotions are not virtuous except in relation to the agent's will; but can the will be completely or perfectly virtuous without order in the lower soul? On this point Henry's position has some of the same ambiguities as Bonaventure's.

Perfect Virtue

Richard of Middleton follows Henry in attributing temperance and courage to the will, even as he recasts the position in more Aristotelian terms. Appealing to Aristotle's definition of virtue as a habit concerning choice, Richard argues that choice is an act of the will, and the will's act most shares in the character (ratio) of moral goodness, so that habits of the will must have more of the character of virtue than habits of the sense appetite.58 This conclusion is also

58. Quodl. Il, q. 20: "Contra, secundum Philosophum 2. Ethic., virtus est habitus electivus; ergo est in appetitu electivo. Sed ille appetitus est voluntas, non appetitus sensitivus, ergo fortitudo et temperantia sunt in voluntate sicut in subiecto. Ad istam quaestionem respondeo, quod. . ille habitus, quem dicit virtus moralis in voluntate, magis habeat rationem virtutis quam ilIe quem ponit in appetitu sensitivo .... Ergo virtus moraHs etiam est in ilIo appetitu a quo actus principalius sortitur rationem bonitatis moralis. Sed actus maxime sortiuntur bonitatem moralem, inquantum sunt a vo· luntate directa secundum rectum rationis iudicium. Ergo habitus existens in voluntate


suggested by Aristotles Politics. The virtue of the slave in obeying his master's commands is not of the same character as the virtue of the master in commanding. So it is with the will as ruler of the soul and the sense appetite as servant. While Richard concedes that the sense appetite develops habits of obeying the wiWs commands, he follows Henry in labeling such habits mere "likenesses ll or "impressions" of virtue.59

On the other hand, those Iiimpressionsl! are sound evidence of the virtue of the will. When a virtue in the will is perfect, Richard argues, it causes a habitual impression in the sense appetite. When the virtue is not perfect, it does not cause such an impression. Hence the continent person differs from the temperate in having unruly passions, and continence does not attain the complete character of moral virtue. Nevertheless, Richard hastens to add conti-, nence is a virtue. 60

Beasts and Madmen

In his commentary on the Sentences (ca. r290L Peter Olivi explains in greater detail how habits of the sense appetite relate to virtues of the will. 61 He sharply criticizes the Thomistic position, as-

principaHus sortitur rationem virtutis quam habitus existens in appetitu sensitivo" (Brescia, 1591, IV, 62-63).

59· Ibid.: "Restat ergo quod habitus existcns in voluntate sicut in subiecto plus habeat de ratione virtutis quam habitus existens in appetitu sensitivo sicut in subiecto; immo forte, ut magis proprie loquar, habitus existens in appetitu sensitivo magis potest dici similitudo, vel impraessio virtutis, quam viItus" (Brescia, 1591, IV, 63).

60. Sent., I1I, d. 33, a. I, q. I, ad 2: "Dicendum quod virtus, quando est perfecta in voluntate, causat in sensualitate habitualem impressionem, per quam facilius obtempeIat imperio rationis rectaej et ideo, quia temperantia est virtus perfecta, causat in concupiscibili habitualem impressionem, per quam passiones sunt domitae, et quia continentia non est virtus perfecta in comparatione temperantiae, non causat praedictarn impressionem. Et ideo continens habet passiones indomitas, quare dicit Philosophus 7· Ethic., c. 2, quod continentia non est eadem virtuti, nec ut alterum genus, in hoc clans intelIigere, quod non attingit ita ad plenam rationem moralis virtutis, sicut temperantia. Concedendum tamen est continentiam esse virtutem"lBrescia, 1591, Ill, 37 1 ).

61. The relevant question-" An virtus sit in sola voluntate intellectuali sicut in suo biecto, an sit in aliis potentiis"-appears in Cod. Vat. Borgh. 173, H. 66ra-69ra. It is identified as part of Olivi's commentary on Sentences III in J. Koch, "Der Sentenzenkommentar des Petrus Johannis Olivi," Recherches de Theoiogie ancienne et medievale 2(1930): 299. I cite the edition of the text published by Stadter as q. 4 of Quaestiones de virtutibus lQuaracchi, 1981),217-41.


cribes to Aristotle the view that all moral virtues belong to the sense appetite, and proceeds to reject that view as well. Bonaventure's opinion-that all virtues belong to free decision} which includes both reason and will-is rejected morc respectfully. Olivi himself argues that lithe most formal and most principal part of every virtue is in the will. 11 Virtues do not belong to other powers except Ilparticipatively,lI insofar as some parts of the virtues are connected with and subordinated to vJrtues in the will.62

Olivi devotes a great deal of space to explaining how habits in other powers can be virtues in a relative sense and I'participatively.1I While he concedes that some virtues are constituted of habits in the sense appetite as well as habits in the will, he argues that only the will has habits that are virtues simpliciter. Habits in other powers are virtues only secundum quid, that is, only in connection with related virtues of the will. That relation to the will is absolutely necessary} for, without it, those other habits would not be virtues in any sense at all. They would entirely lack the character (ratio) of virtue. Olivi says this is evident from beasts and madmen: although they may have the same habits of the sense appetite that are found in the virtuous, those habits have no moral significance.63

Olivi is reluctant to call habits of the sense appetite virtues, not only because he thinks they are not virtues in their own right, but also because he does not want to multiply virtues beyond necessity. When one posits habits in the sense appetite corresponding to habits in the will, one might be faulted for creating two virtues where one was before, for example, an emotional (or "sensitive") cour~ge as well as a rational courage. Olivi does his best to ward off this crit-

62. Quaest. de viIt., q. 4: "Quartus modus est, quodformalissima et prindpalissima pars omnis virtutis sit in voluntate, in reliquis vero non sit nisiparticipative et quoad aliquas partes virtutis subnexas et subordinatas ei, quod est in voluntate, ita quod sine isto ordine nihil haberent de ratione virtutis aut virtuosi" (Stadter ed., 224)·

63. Ibid.: "[Quod virtutes secundum quid et participative sint in aliis potentiis] ostenditur ex earum fixa determinatione aliquando in bono, aliquando in malo. Quas quidem determinationes habitus vocamus; quae, quando slint ad bonum, bonae sunt et pro tanto virtutes sunt. Verumtainen tota bonitas earum est ex ordine earum ad virtutem superioris voluntatis et ad eius actum, inquantum scilicet movetur ab ilIa et propter illam et cum ilIa et sub illa. Unde tota earum essentia praeter hunc ordinem remanente nihil habet de ratione virtutis ut virtuosi, sicut patet in brutis aut in furiosis. Et hinc est quod non competit eis ratio virtutis, nisi analogice et secundum quid

seu per posterius" (Stadter ed., 228-29).


icism. He argues that the habit of the will and the habit of the sense appetite together constitute one whole virtue, just as a principal agent and an instrumental agent together constitute one complete agent. In the same way, the soldier cannot fight unless he, his hand, and his sword act together. Olivi emphasizes that the will's habit is related to the habit of the sense appetite not as one part of an essence is related to another part but rather as a principal agent is related to an instrumental agent, or as a cause to an effect, so that the unity of the virtue is merely the unity of coordination.64

While this account preserves the "total activity" of the will and includes an emotional aspect to such virtues as temperance and courage, it casts the emotions in a strangely instrumental role. The habits of the sense appetite may be effects of virtue; they may be necessary conditions for the exercise of virtue, at least in this life; they may even share in the character of virtue; and yet they are not part of the essence of virtue. The essence of virtue is simply to have a good will.

Olivi carries this line of argument to its logical conclusion. If the principal part of every virtue is in the will} then any virtue of the intellect must likewise be principally in the will. Olivi accordingly argues that the chief part of prudence, insofar as prudence signifies a virtue worthy of praise and reward} is in the will. Only through the will's rectitude is the intellect rightly applied; only through the

64. Ibid.: "Dicunt ergo quod virtutes, quarum actus sunt solum in voluntate, sunt totaliter in ipsa; ilIae autem, quae praeter actus voluntatis habent actus in aliis potentiis, voluntati obedientibus, sicut sunt intellectus et appetitus sensitivus, comprehendunt in se pIures habitus; qui, licet non concurrant ad constituendam unarn essentiam tamquarn partes eius, concurrunt tamen ad constituendam unam plenam rationem agentis, eo modo quo agens principale et agens instrumentale seu eo modo quo perfectiones utriusque ad invicem connectuntur ad constituendum unum agens perfectum; sicut videmus in milite et eius manu etense, sine quibus insimuI sumptis non potest a milite fieri actus percussionis et pugnae. Licet autem totum aggregatum ex praedictis habitibus dicatur plena et integra virtus, nihilominus habitus voluntatis est simpliciter virtus, reliqui vera sunt secundum quid virtutes, et largo nomine virtutes vocantur" (Stadter ed., 224-25). Seealsoibid.,229: " ... Quod scilicet ex diversis habitibus praedictarum potentiarum confletur et possit conflari una ratio perfecti agentis per solam unitatem coordinationis habituum et potentiarum, patet ex tribus insimul concurrentibus.-Primum est naturalis ordo ipsarum potentiarum et suorum actuum: quia inferior est naturaliter mobilis a superiori, et superior naturali ordine attingit

obiecta et actus potentiae inferioris.

VIRTUES OF THE WILL

virtue of the will does the intellect come to discriminate properly between good and evil. Though the intellect may disclose the precepts of God or natural law, it is the will that chooses, the will that commands.65

All or Nothing

The opinion Peter Olivi attributes to Aristotle-that no moral virtues belong to the will-was in fact defended by Godfrey of Fontaines. Godfrey probably argued for this position in q. 13 of his Quodlibet ill (Christmas I286), but since his response to that question has never been found, we must make do with disputations where he took up the topic only in passing. The most useful of these is his Quodlibet XIV (1298/991. Although this quodlibetfocuses on the virtue of justice, Godfrey seizes the opportunity to argue that all the moral virtues, including justice, belong to the sense appetite.66 The will, he says, has no need of habits enabling it to conform to reason. It is naturally disposed to follow reason, whereas the sense appetite is not so disposed. Virtues are accordingly needed to moderate the passions of the sense appetite, for when the sense appetite is well ordered, the one impediment to harmony between the will and reason is thereby eliminated.67 In cases where the sense ap-

65. Ibid., ad 5: 11 Ad quintum dicendum quod principalissima pars prudentiae, secundum quod dicit virtutem laude et praemio dignam, est in voluntate; et illud est quaedam rectitudo voluntatis, per quam intellectus recte applicatur et tenetur in discernendis et aestimandis eligibilibus. Etper banc fit quod intellectui bona sapiant et mala desipiant; sicut econtra per perversitatem voluntatis fit quod intellectui mala sapiunt et bona desipiunt. Rursus, sciendum quod prudentia, prout est in solo intellectu, non invenit medium nisi solum discemendo et praesentando; sed voluntasillud invenit eligendo et acceptando seu accipiendo et tenendo.-Ulterius sciendum quod ratio nihil praecipit, nisi solum quod praecepta Dei vel iuris naturalis ostendunt; sed solius voluntatis est efficaciter imperare et suo imperio reliqua movere" (Stadter ed., 23I-32)·

66. Quodl. XIV, q. 3: "Ad huiusmodi tamen pleniorem evidentiam est intelligendum quod virtutes omnes morales sunt in appetitu sensitivo qui per se et directe non est appetitus nisi quorundam bonorum particularium et tamen virtutum illarum obiecturn per se non est aliquod bonumparticulare sed aliquod bonum universale sive generale per praedicationem sive sit vere univocum sive analogum" (PB V-2, 3P)' See also Quaestiones ordinariae, q. I (PB XIV, 84).

67. Quodl. XIV, q. 3: If • • Ad hoc quod voluntas non impediatur quin prompte et faciliter sequatur rationem quae non impeditur nisi ex inordinata dispositione appetitus et etiam quod ipse appetitus inferior moveatur prompte et faciliter concorditer


petite is not well ordered, as in the continent person, the will might need a habit helping it to follow reason. Continence, however, is not a genuine virtue. The temperate person, who is truly virtuous, does not need habits of the will.

Gonsalvus of Spain was so outraged by Godfrey's views that he scarcely bothered to report Aquinas's. Most of his criticism aims directly at Godfrey's teachings on the will, especially at the idea that the will is determined by reason's judgment. Gonsalvus says this contradicts the teachings of the saints, is condemned by the Parisian articles, and even runs counter to experience. If no one acted against the judgment of reason, then few of us would sin and fewer still would sin repeatedly. Besides, Godfrey's reasoning would equally exclude virtues from the intellect. If no virtue should be posited in the will, because the will is determined by the intellect, then no virtue should be posited in the intellect, because the intellect is determined by the phantasm.68

Gonsalvus himself holds that no virtues should be posited in the sense appetite. He presents only three arguments for this position, each of which turns on the sense appetite's dependence on the body: (I) Because the sense appetite depends on the body, it is susceptible to violence and compulsion; virtue, however, cannot be lost unwillingly. (2) Extension is a corporeal quality; virtues are not extended; but the sense appetite, being an organic power, is extended. (3) No virtue necessarily involves some bodily change, as Aristotle indicates when explaining why modesty is not a virtue; acts of the sense appetite, however, are always accompanied by bodily changes.69 All

rationi, primo per se et principaliter requiritur habitus disponens et habilitans appe· titum et reducens ad medium excessum vel defectum circa passiones appetitus per quas causatur huiusmodi repugnantia vel resistentia. Et ideo necesse est ponere per se et prima et principaliter habitum in appetitu et non in voluntate ... " (PB V, .'}42J. I share the opinion of Graf (De subiecto virtutem cardinalium, I69-70) regarding "per se et prima et principaliter": Godfrey does not mean that virtues must be in the will in some secondary sense; he means that the will can acquire habits accidentally and secondarily, but even if it does, those habits are neither virtues nor parts of virtues.

68. Quodl., q 11: "Item, si propter detenninationem voluntatis ab intellectu non sit ponenda virtus in voluntate, cum intellectus non sit minus determinatus et promptus ad sequendum determinationem phantasmatis et eius impressionem quam voluntas determinationem intellectus, non oportet aliquam virtutem ponere in intellectu, quod et ipsi negant, cum ibi sint virtutes intellectuales" (Amoros ed., 424).

69. Ibid. (Am.oros ed., 425-26); cf. EN ru8broff.

VIRTUES OF THE WILL

three of these arguments, to varying degrees, reflect the conviction that virtue must be wholly within the individual's control. Acts of the sense appetite are partly beyond one's control, fOJ; the sense appetite depends on the body in a way that thc will does not. As William of Ockham will later argue, one can eliminate the desire for sex simply by ingesting the appropriate chemicalsi but can one acquire the moral virtue of chastity in the same way?

Conspicuous by its absence is any suggestion that habits of the sense appetite are connected with virtues of the will. Gonsalvus never concedes that the sense appetite can acquire virtues in any sense. Nor does he suggest that habits of the sense appetite are somehow connected with the virtuous habits of the will.

Reconsidering Scotus

Scotus's question on the location of the moral virtues contains much that will be familiar. He considers four objections to positing virtues in the will. The first recalls Godfrey's position: the will is determined to the good presented by reason and so has no need of virtues. The second objection recalls voluntarist worries about positingvirtues in a free power. If the will is free, then it is able to determine itself and so does not need determining habits. Nor could the will acquire such habits, for virtues incline in the manner of nature, and such determination is repugnant to a power that acts freely. (Scotus seldom fails to report Henry's views.) The third objection claims that virtues moderate the emotions and so must be posited in the emotional part of the soul. 70 Only the fourth objection is one we have not seen before: if a virtue can be produced in the will by acts other than acts of the sense appetite, then an angel could acquire moral virtues by performing right acts of will. This conclusion is tentatively rejected as in conveniens and contrary to Ethics X, where Aristotle declares that moral virtues are purely human. 71

70. Ormnatio, rn, suppL dist. 33 (WoIter ed., 320). 7!. Ibid.: "Quarto arguo sic, quia si in voluntate posset esse virtus ex rectis actibus

qui sunt alii ab actibus appetitus sensitivi, igitur angelus posset acquirere ex rectis volitionibus virtutum moralium virtutes. Consequens videtur inconveniens et est contra Philosophum X Ethicotum [c. IQJ manifeste, ubi negat ab eis virtutes morales" (WaIter ed., 322). Did Scotus invent this argument? In presenting the first three objections he speaks in an impersonal vein: }} Ad hoc ponuntur rationes. Prima tabs: ... Praeterea,


Scotus meets the first objection by denying the premise, namely, that the will is determined to choose what reason presents as good. Even if it were determined, he argues, it would not follow that the will does not acquire habits. In its own right the intellect acts naturally, and yet through repeated acts of right judgment it acquires the habit of prudence. Besides, a habit is not only that through which a power acts rightly, but also that which enables the power to act with ease and pleasure. Since the will does not by its very nature take pleasure in virtuous deeds, it needs habits to make those deeds pleasant to it. 72 (Note that the pleasure most relevant to moral virtue is a pleasure of the will.)

In reply to the second objection Scotus argues that a power needs virtuous habits all the more if it determines itself, for only a faculty that has its acts in its own power is capable of moral actions. Thus, only that sort of faculty is capable of acquiring the moral habits generated from such acts. According to Scotus, the sense appetite does not have control over its own actions. He declares it astonishing that some would praise a human being on the basis of the sense appetite, a faculty we have in common with beasts. 73 Bonaventure, remember, was equally astonished; Olivi was appalled.

As Scotus's replies to earlier objections incorporate arguments offered by his predecessors, so too does his reply to the third objection .. He begins by observing that the will itself has passions of a sort; so if virtues must be posited in the same subject as the passions, that is no reason to exclude virtues from the will. Second, Scotus argues that even the passions of the sense appetite are moderated chiefly by the will. If an emotion is excessive, the will is more able than the sense appetite to moderate it, for the will acts freely, while the sense appetite "is acted upon by the object. If an emotion is not di-

secundo arguitur .... Tertio arguitur .... " fu contrast, the objection about angels begins, 1/1 argue."

72. Ibid. (WoIter ed., 326).

73· Ibid.: "Illud enim magis indiget dispositione aliqua respectu cuius habet actionem in sua potestate quam respectu alterius, quia si non haberet in potestate, non sibi imputaretur nec ad laudem nec ad vituperationem quando ageret vel qualiter; sed quia in potestate sua habet, laudabiliter vel vituperabiliter agit et eget ilIo principio per quam possit laudabiliter operari; tale ponitur virtus. Videtur etiam mirabile quod illud propter quod laudatur homo in operando sit praecise in eo secundum illud quod est commune sibi et brutis" (WoIter ed., 328).


rected to the right end, the will is able to redirect it. The sense appetite cannot, because the sense appetite has no direct access to reason: the right end is disclosed by reason only to the properly rational appetite. Of course} future emotions cannot in themselves be moderated. Nevertheless, one can guard against emotional disorder by avoiding objects that produce excessive pleasure and pursuing objects that produce only moderate pleasure.74

In all respects, then, the will is better able to moderate emotions than is the sense appetite itself. Yet this is not to say that any moral virtue is essentially a habit of moderating emotions, much less a habit of being moderately affected. According to Scotus, every moral virtue is properly a habit of choice:

This is proved because the will's choice is naturally prior to any command it or reason might give the sense appetite. Indeed, reason does not seem to reach the sense appetite except by way of the will, which is properly the rational appetite. The will, however, wills something in itself before it commands a lower power to act in that regard, for it does not will as it does because it commands the lower power, but vice versa. Thus in that prior state, the will-since it is indeterminate and determinable, like the intellect-can generate in itself from right choices a habit inclining it to choose rightly; and this habit will most properly be a virtue, because virtue is most properly an elective habit that inclines the will to choose rightly, even as it was generated from right choices.

Nevertheless, one can concede that if the willing will can command the sense appetite, by moderating either its emotion or its -pursuit or avoidance of the object (if this be an act of the sense appetitel, the will can, from the right commands, leave in the sense appetite some habit inclining the sense appetite to be moved with pleasure to sensibles from the command of the wilL And this habit remaining in the sense appetite, though it is not properly a virtue because it is not an elective habit or a habit inclining to choices, can yet be conceded to be a virtue in some sense, since it inclines to those things that are in harmony with right reason. 75

74. Ibid. (WoIter ed., 330). 75. Ibid.: "Istud probatur, quia prius naturaliter voluntas eligit quam ipsa vel ratio

aliquid imperet appetitu sensitivo) ratio enim non videtur attingere appetitum sensitivum nisi mediante voluntate, quae est proprie appetitus rationalis. Voluntas etiam prius vult aliquid in se, quam imperat potentiae inferiori actum circa illud; non enim

VIRTUES OF THE WILL

The final concession is one we have seen made before-by Bonaventure, Henry of Ghent, Peter Olivi, and Richard of Middleton, though not by Gonsalvus. While Scotus allows that the sense appetite can develop something like virtues, he denies that it can develop virtues in the strict sense. He reiterates the point in replying to arguments for positing virtues in the sense appetite: f(I concede what all the authorities [citedJ affirm, namely, that there is a certain quality in the sense appetite that can be called a virtue, though it has the character [ratio) of virtue less perfectly than that quality which is in the will inclining it to choice."76

The problem with Scotus's discussion is that it fails to explain what connection there might be between virtues of the will and habits of the sense appetite. Can the will choose rightly in situations calling for temperance and yet not issue appropriate commands to the sense appetite? If the will choosing rightly invariably does issue such commands, does it follow that the sense appetite invariably obeys, and by obeying acquires habits of obedience? If it follows that the sense appetite acquires such habits, does it also follow that the sense appetite will eventually obey with pleasure?

No clear answer is given in Scotus's question on the location of the moral virtues. In another question, however, he says that continence and temperance are different grades of the same species of virtue. 77 This would suggest that Scotus's position is the same as Rich-

quia imperat potentiae inferiori, ideo vult illud, sed e converso. In illo ergo priori potest voluntas ex rectis electionibus, cum sit aeque indeterminata et determinabilis, sicut intellectus, generare in seipsa habitum inclinantem ad recte eligendumj et iste habitus propriissime erit virtus, quia propriissime habitus electivus inclinat [ad recte eligenduml, sicut generatur exrectis electionibus. Potest tamen concedi quod si voluntas volens potest imperare appetitui sensitivo, vel moderando passionem eius vel prosecutionem vel fugam, si sit actus appetitus sensitivi, potest derelinquere ex imperUs rectis aliquem habitum in appetitu sensitivo inclinantem ad hoc, ut appetitus sensitivus delectabiliter moveatur ad sensibilia ex imperio voluntatisj et iste habitus derelictus, licet non sit proprie virtus, quia non habitus electivus, nec inclinans ad electiones, potest tamen concedi aliquo modo esse virtus, quia inclinat ad illa quae sunt rationi rectae consona" (WoIter ed., 3P, 334). I have retained the bracketed phrase from the WaddingVives edition. Wolter's text reads "ad agendum"."

76. Ibid.: "Ad argumenta principalia: ad omnes auctoritates concedo Wud quod affirmant, scilicet quod in appetitu sensitivo est quaedam qualitas quae potest dici virtus, tamen minus perfecte huius rationem virtutis quam ilIa qualitas quae est in voluntate inclinans ad electionem" (Waiter ed., 340).

77. Ordinatio, ill, suppl. dist. 34 (WoIter ed., 348, 376).

VIRTUES OF THE WILL

ard of Middleton's: virtue in the will is compatible with disorder in the sense appetite, but perfect virtue is not. A person could still be virtuous, then, if some bodily condition prevented her from achieving emotional balance. By the same token, she could be virtuous even if she experienced only the pleasure of the will-the satisfaction of a job well done?-in carrying out the actions she chose. Such limitations would at most mean that the agent was imperfectly virtuous, that although she had acquired continence, which is a virtue, she had not yet attained the higher grade of continence we call temperance.

Since Scotus does not defend this position ex professo, we must be cautious in attributing it to him. All one can say with certainty is that the position is consistent with Scotus's treatment of the location of the virtues. He does not say that the virtuous will must, or even does, generate habits in the sense appetite, but only that it can generate habits in the sense appetite.

Scotus's reply to the objection about angels does nothing to resolve the ambiguities in the body of the question. He argues that an angel could acquire the virtue of temperance by making correct choices regarding emotions revealed to it by its intellect, for although the angel could not experience such emotions, it could know what choices someone having them should make. On the other hand} since someone might object to positing moral virtues in angels, Scotus goes on to suggest grounds for the objection. One might argue that virtue is supposed to deal with what is difficul~} but only in a being with a sense appetite would there be difficulty in willing rightly. Hence, an angel would not satisfy the conditions necessary for the acquisition of virtue. Otherwise one could argue that beings with a sense appetite are able to choose things that angels cannot choose, for choice, unlike wish, concerns what is possible for the agent himself. Because human beings make choices angels cannot, human beings acquire virtues angels cannot. 78

Scotus does not indicate which of the two positions he himself favors. The connection between virtues of the will and habits of the sense appetite thus remains problematic. Nevertheless, the principal point of his discussion is clear: because moral virtue is a habit of choice, only a habit of the will can truly be a moral virtue.

78. Ordinatio, ill, suppl. dist. 33 (WoIter ed., 334, 336, 338).


If compared to the work of Aquinas, Scotus's discussion would look like a dramatic turn in the direction of the good will ethic. Considering the work of masters active in the late thirteenth century-including Godfrey of Fontaines} Henry of Ghent, Peter Olivi} and his own teacher, Gonsalvus-Scotus's views can hardly be considered radical. While he argues against those who attribute virtues to the emotional part of the soul, he also argues against Henry's claim that the will as free cannot acquire habits:

... Although the will, by reason of its freedom, could determine itself to act, nevertheless in virtue of its action it receives an aptitude directly inclining it to a similar action; for that unique determination of the will is not from the sort of natural form one finds determining fire to behave as it does, but from a free action which proceeds from a power that is indeterminate, and it is in this way determinable by a habit. 79

Scotus refers the reader to Book I, dist. I7 and Book Il, dist. 25, where he explains how a secondary cause acting naturally can concur with a primary free cause to produce a free act, and how the effect is called free because of the freedom of the primary cause. A habit, he explains} is a secondary cause with respect to the will.

We have already considered Scotus's analysis of the concurrence of partial efficient causes in volition. His discussion of the concurrence of will and habit is similar} and yet, from the standpoint of virtue ethics, more significant. Scotus argues that a virtuous habit is an efficient cause of a virtuous act, but it cannot be the total efficient cause, because virtuous acts must come from the will (which is freel, not merely from a habit determined by its very nature to produce the effects that it does. The habit must therefore be a partial efficient cause of the act, with the will itself the other partial efficient cause.

This conclusion, however, is reached only after a great deal of re-

79. Ibid.: ". . Licet voluntas ex Hbertate sua posset se determinare in agendo, tamen

ex actione est receptiva alicuius habilitatis directe inclinantis ad similem actionem;

illa enim unica determinatio eius non est per formam naturalem qualis est in igne ad

operandum, sed est ex libera actione quae procedit a potentia indeterminata et ita detenninabili per habitum" (WoIter cd., 328). For further objections to Henry's view see

34.2-44·


flection. In favor of it Seotus argues that a power of the soul does not absolutely need a habit to act, though it acts less perfectly without a habit than with one (assuming equal effort on the part of the powerL just as two causes that concur in producing an effect produce a more perfect effect than if one cause acted alone. Taking the habit as a partial efficient cause of the act enables onc to explain why an act caused by a power and habit together is more intense than an act caused by the power alone.80

Seotus considers yet another position, which claims that the habit plays no active role but merely inclines the power to the act, as some say gravity inclines, though gravity is not an active principle. He argues at some length that one might adopt this view, reduc~ ing the contribution of habit to mere inclination, and still be able to explain why a person with a virtuous habit can act with pleasure, with ease, without wavering, and so on. For example, perhaps the pleasure requires only a certain "fit" (or suitability: convenientia) between the agent's habit and the act, not a causal contribution by the habit. 81 Scotus remarks that this view, as well as the one making the habit a partial efficient cause of the act, can probably be sustained.82 Yet Scotus himself favors the position making the habit a partial efficient cause, which he says (/ seems to attribute more to the habit."s3

80. Orrunatio I, dist. 17, pt. I, q. 2: "Conccdo, propter istas 1ationes, quod tenendo habitum esse causam partialcm respectu actus, esset causa secunda et non prima, sed ipsa potentia esset causa prima et absolute non indiget habitu ad operandum; tamen minus perfecte operatur sine habitu quam cum habitu (et hoc, posHo aequali conatu ex parte potentiac), sicut quando duac causae concurrunt ad effectum unum, una sola non potest per se in ita perfectum effectum sicut ambae simul. Et hoc modo salvatur quare actus est intensior a potentia et ab habitu quam a potentia sola ... " (Vatican ed., V,

154)· 8r. Ibid. (Vatican ed., V, rS8, r8r). 82. Ibid.: "Sic ergo patet qualiter, duabus viis primis 'de habitu' tamquam inconve

nientibus derelictis, duae ultimae viae probabiles possunt sustineri, videlicet tertia et quarta: attribuendo, secundum tertiam viam, aliquam activitatem habitui, et non solum 'rationem principii activi' potentiae,-et secundum quartam ncgando ab habitu rationem activi, et quod sit tamquam forma inclinans ad aliquam formam ulteriorem redpiendam, licet non sit ratio recipiendi respectu cius (sicut gravitas inclinat ad deorsum, iicet non sit ratio receptivi cius quod est deorsum, sed 'corpus quantum,' in quan

tum est receptivum alicuius 'ubi')" (Vatican ed., V, 160). 83. Ibid.: "Tenendo tertiam viam (quae vidctur attribuere plus habitui), potest did

sic quod sicut si esset aliqua gravitas in lapide quae non esset sufficiens principium


Of course, attributing more to the habit means attributing more to the virtue. But since the proposed alternative is allowing virtuous habits no active role at all in the production of virtuous acts, have we not reached at least the beginning of the end of classical virtue ethics? Even if Scotus was only one in a series of masters who made freedom and choice absolutely central to the moral life, did they not all, in effect, marginalize the virtues? Are we not seeing evidence of the very "rupture" or "disintegration" that scholars have long associated with Scotus and his fellow travelers?

The answer, less obvious than it might appear, is best understood in light of late thirteenth-century developments in generaL So let us now return to the standard story with which we began. We need to see where our investigation of virtue ethics has led us.

activum respectu descensus deorsum, esset tamen principium partiale activum .

(Vatican ed., V, 170).

CONCLUSION

By this point it should be evident that philosophical developments in the late thirteenth century were more complicated and in~ teresting, though perhaps less dramatic, than historical scholars have often made them appear. The Thomistic synthesis was not undone by fI Augustinianll -theologians who reacted violently against Aristotle's growing influence, pitted Augustine's authority against Aristotle's, and demanded that their contemporaries prove their loyalties. Most of the so-called Augustinians were themselves at-, tempting a synthesis of Augustine's teachings and Aristotle's. Far from calling attention to conflicts between the greatest philosopher and the greatest Church Father, they tended to claim Aristotle's authority for their own views, working to reconcile his teachings with those of Augustine and other Christian authorities but warping his meaning in the process.

Only one writer we have seen clearly meets the usual description of an Augustinian: Peter Olivi} who had a fair amount of influence on later Franciscans} especially Duns Scotus} and whose philosophical acumen should not be underestimated. Olivi} however} was hardly typical of "the Augustinian school. 11 Henry of Ghent was not only more representative but also more influential at the time, and Henry made a good-faith effort to find interpretations of Aristotle compatible with Christian doctrine as he understood it. Even Wil-

<::;;.;¥ /;/<0,

CONCLUSION 247

liam de la Mare} author of the Correctorium fratris Thomae, demonstrated passing little hostility toward Aristotle. Though his presentation of the Philosopher's views was often a far cry from the historical Aristotle, it is difficult to say how much of the distortion was intentional.

Virtually all theologians of the period distorted Aristotle's teachings on key points. A fair measure of distortion was already effected by the Latin translations upon which they relied. In any case, one cannot reasonably fault thirteenth-century masters of theology for failing to give an accurate exposition of ancient philosophy when twentieth-century professors of philosophy so often do the same. Theological commitments and political agendas need not be posited to explain the misreadings of Aristotle. A general lack of interest in that modern invention} the discipline of historical scholarship, should suffi~e. Most masters of the late thirteenth century, like most philosophers of the late twentieth century} were simply less interested in getting at the truth about Aristotle than in getting at the truth tout court.

As the standard story makes "the Augustinian school ll appear more unified and reactionary than it actually was} so it makes the 1277 condemnation appear more decisive and destructive than it actually was. In ethics and psychology, at least, many of the condemned articles were sufficiently obscure to leave room for a wide range of interpretation. No one} for example, could safely deny the freedom of the will, but how the will's freedom should be understood was open to debate. Whatever doctrinal edge Henry of Ghent and like-minded masters had when the articles were condemned, it soon diminished. Acceptance of the propositio magistralis put some of the 1277 condemnation itself in question, and the "rehabilitation" of Giles of Rome aided masters sympathetic to Aquinas. All told, the repressive and homogenizing force of the 1277 condemnation has been exaggerated.

If its Thomistic point of view makes the standard story more engaging, it can also make the philosophical dialogue of the period more difficult to understand. Emphasis on the theological character of scholastic thought only compounds the problem. Genuine philosophical disputes can become so entangled with theology that modern readers find it difficult to grasp what philosophical issues, if any, were at stake. Again, debates about the freedom of the will are

CONCLUSION

a case in point. We have seen ample evidence that concerns to safe~ guard moral responsibility helped both to motivate and to shape controversies about the will. Concerns about God!s freedom might also have been involved! one master or another might have been influenced by the I277 condemnation! and other factors might have contributed as well. What was at stake in ethics! however! is manifest from the texts. One might doubt whether the masters most eager to defend the freedom of the will really needed such a concept to safeguard moral responsibility! but one cannot doubt that they themselves believed they did.

To suggest that too much emphasis has been placed on the theological character of scholastic thought is certainly not to say that theology was unimportant. It is only to say that philosophical positions supported by appeals to Scripture or Christian authorities were usually defended on philosophical grounds as well. Recall the repeated references to Adam!s sin in discussions of moral weakness. Waiter of Bmges, Henry of Ghent, William de la Mare and others used the story of Adam to counter what they considered excessively intellectualist accounts of human action. Yet how much did the story actually prove? Which conclusions! if any! did it establish? Answers varied! and probably less owing to the obscurity of Scripture than to widespread acceptance of a philosophical doctrinethat whatever we will! we will sub ratione boni. This is only one of many cases where scholastics! efforts to reconcile their understanding of Aristotle!s teachings with Christian doctrine posed serious ': philosophical problems. IISynthesis!! was a truly formidable task.

The dichotomy between Aristotelianism and Augustinianism combines with the Thomistic point of view to make the standard story more dramatic. In place of oddly assorted philosophical positions advanced by oddly assorted masters! we see an epic clash be~ tween two traditions! each with its own little army of defenders. Even if we take the armies as an instance of poetic license-because alignments between masters were more partial and ovedappingand even if we remember that some of the doctrines associated with Augustinianism were not derived from Augustine! this picture of the late thirteenth century remains misleading. For it invites us to see controversies_ of the period as a contest between pagan philosophy! represented by Aristotle! and Christian theology! represented by Augustine.

CONCLUSION 249

Augustine was indeed a Christian theologian; he was also the most revered of the Fathers and probably the foremost authority in theology. Many of the positions defended in his works were nevertheless legitimate philosophical positions! compatible! but having no necessary connection! with Christianity. The same positions could often have been argued on strictly philosophical grounds and sometimes had been argued on strictly philosophical grounds. Rewrite the standard story to give the Stoics their due! and the contest between philosophy and theology becomes more of a contest within philosophy.

The Stoics are especially important for any study of scholastic ethics because the moral point of view we see developing in the late thirteenth century! while surely influenced by Christian theology! finds older philosophical roots in Stoicism. Consider Bonaventure!s emphasis on merit! on what makes us deserving in the eyes of God! along with his insistence that virtue must lie within the scope of free decision! and his conception of virtue appears purely theological. One might draw the same conclusion from Peter Olivfs tendency to associate moral principles with the precepts of God and moral virtue with the willis choice to follow such precepts. For further evidence consider arguments by Gonsalvus of Spain against attributing any moral virtues to the part of the soul that depends on the body. Should even more evidence be needed, it could easily be produced. All told! one could make quite a persuasive case for the voluntarist movement as theological in origin and motivation! and for the moral point of view these masters often seem to be advancing as nothing more than the product of Christian theology. But take into account Stoic teachings-the ideal of apatheia! the restriction of morality to what lies within the agenes control! the concern to make virtue! to make what is praiseworthy! independent of -luck and external success-and the scholastic discussions are restored to their older and wider philosophical context.

The attribution of all moral virtues to the will was less a rejection of Aristotle!s teachings than a revision of them. Masters who defended this view usually placed heavy emphasis on Aristotle!s definition of moral virtue as a habit concerning choice. Since habits are produced by acts! and choice is an act of the will! all moral virtues might well be regarded as habits of the will. Added support for this conclusion came from the connection between virtue and au~

CONCLUSION

tonomy in Aristotle's Politics. As the virtues of subjects are not virM tues in the strict sense, because they depend on the virtues of the ruler, so the virtues of the sense appetite are not virtues in the strict sense, because they depend on the virtues of the will. As only the ruler of the polis can acquire true moral virtues, so only the ruling power of the soul can acquire true moral virtues. Even Aristotle's claim that pleasure in virtuous deeds is a sign of moral virtue was no obstacle to attributing all moral virtues to the will. The pleasure related to virtue could be interpreted as a rational pleasure, and hence as a pleasure of the will. There was, however, an obvious objection to the voluntarist position: Aristotle teaches that virtue moderates the emotions, and what becomes of moderate emotions when all moral virtues are attributed to the will?

As we have seen, Bonaventure, Scotus, and other masters addressed the question about emotions by acknowledging "likenesses" or I'impressions" of virtue in the sense appetite. Their aim was not to deny the moral significance of emotional responses. The point was that emotional responses are morally significant only insofar as they reflect that agenes will. The will, remember, is not only the power that chooses; it is also the power that controls and moderates the emotions. It is the will that makes emotional responses praiseworthy.

Consider the case of someone who has, owing merely to bodily constitution, a moderate desire for sweets. We would consider such a person fortunate, perhaps even enviable, but why should we con-" sider her praiseworthy? If her moderate intake of sweets comes' strictly from instinct, if it reflects no principle or commitment to moderation and thetefore no choice in the moral sense, it would seem more a matter of luck than a matter of virtue. Now consider someone less fortunate-someone born with a sweet tooth, someone whose passions run riot whenever the dessert cart rolls into view. She may value moderation, may accordingly choose not to indulge her taste for sweets, may make a habit of so choosing, and may in time develop a suitably moderate response to the dessert cart. At that point we might well praise her response; but we praise it, the argument goes, because it reflects the will that went to produce it. The habit of the will has the ratio of virtue: this is what makes the agent praiseworthy. The habit of the sense appetite has the ratio of virtue only in relation to the virtue of the will.

CONCLUSION

On first reading, Scotus and his predecessors might seem to be arguing that moral struggle is what makes a person praiseworthy. The more difficult it.is for someone to become virtuous or behave virtuously, the more praiseworthy the person is. This is what Rob~ ert Roberts has recently dubbed "the hero assessment":

In assessing the degree to which an action reflects moral credit on its agent, we often feel two contrary tendencies. On the one side, like Kant, we are inclined to give greater credit for actions (or character traits) which result from moral struggle. We might call this the hero assessment: just as running a mile in under four minutes is praised not as a speedy mode of transportation, but as an extraordinary feat for legs and lungs and spirit, so some acts are morally praised not just because they are good, but also because they are difficult. Why do we tend to think a moral achievement greater if more difficult? Not, I think, just because we have confused moralM ity with athletics. One obvious reason is that morally difficult aCM !ions display some virtues-namely the virtues of will power. But I think a deeper basis for our feeling here is that the greater the moral obstacles (that is, contrary inclinations) a person has overcome in doing something, the more his action seems to be his own achievement, his own chOice, and thus to reflect credit on him as an agent. It seems to show that his action is his in a special way.l

Of COUl;~e, the "hero assessment" was not unknown to scholastics. (Recall Scotus's dialectical discussion of whether an angel could acquire temperance: an argument to the contrary is that virtue deals with what is difficult.) On the whole, though, Scotus aud likeminded masters do not defend the view that struggle or effort is intrinsically good. Their aim is'to argue that moral goodness lies always within the agent's control. What is essential to virtue is what one chooses to do and why one chooses to do it. Emotional responses have moral significance only insofar as they reflect choice.

While the Aristotelian connection between moral virtue and choice fit nicely with this way of thinking, Aristotle's understanding of virtue as a habit and of habit as a second nature raised problems. The dilemma: As other natural causes, unless impeded, al-

1. R. Roberts, "Will Power and the Virtues," in The Virtues: Contemporary Essays on Moral Character, ed. R. Kruschwitz and R. Roberts (Belmont, Ca., I987), 12S.

CONCLUSION

ways produce the same effects, so habits, unless impeded, always produce the same effectsi but if a moral habit leads the will to act per modum naturae, how can the will acquire such a habit and still act freely? If a fully developed moral habit determines the will to the same kind of acts that generated the habit, how can the will have such a habit and yet remain free? If the agent loses her freedom of will, how can her actions be either praiseworthy or blameworthy?

When understood as habits, and thus as potential sources of determination, the virtues themselves may pose a threat to morality. Hence Henry of Ghent's refusal to posit virtues in the will as free. In Henry's opinion, the very notion of a habit of choosing freely is bizarre. To be free, the will must be both indeterminate and indeterminable. Though Scotns rejected Henry'S position and himself attributed virtuous habits to the will as free, he argued that the habit is never more than a partial efficient cause of a virtuous act. The will itself must always be a partial cause, and the principal one. This raises the question of why one needs to posit virtues at all. If what makes an action free and potentially virtuous, as opposed to merely natural, is the role of the will, then why not simply focus on the will? What is a virtuous habit supposed to explain, anyway?

Once one begins to see the tension between Aristotle's conception of virtues as habits and scholastic teachings on the freedom of the will, it is not altogether surprising to find a thinker like Scotus discussing whether it is necessary to posit habits in the will. His answer, already presented, is that a power of the soul does not need' a habit to act, though it acts less perfectly without a habit than it . does with one (assuming equal effort on the part of the power). In the same way, two causes that concur in producing an effect produce a more perfect effect than if one cause acted alone. This position, which takes the habit as a partial efficient cause of the act, explains why an act caused by a power and habit together is more perfect and intense than one caused by the power alone.2 While Scotus's answer seems well short of radical, is not the question itself radical? Can it be interpreted as anything other than a direct challenge to virtue ethics?

I think that it can. Pause to consider the difference between this

2. Ordinario I, dist. 17, pt. I, q. 2jVatican ed., v, 1541.

CONCLUSION 253

question and a second question} routinely discussed by Aquinas and his contemporaries-namely, why people need habits, especially moral habits. The question about positing habits focuses on the value of habits in explaining the psychological phenomena, while the question about why we need habits focuses more on their value as psychological correctives. The first question reflects a preoccupation with theory construction, especially with economical theory construction, that the second does not. Considering that Aquinas belonged to the first generation to attempt a synthesis of Aristotle's ethics and Christian moral theology, and that Scotus was teaching more than a generation later, it should not be surprising to find the later master preoccupied with questions of theory. Even in recent studies of the virtues, work in normative ethics has plainly preceded serious efforts to explain the underlying theory, and the work in normative ethics continues in a very interesting way, despite bitter disagreements about what kind of ethical theory might conceivably support it.

I do not mean to suggest that the "new" idea of the freedom of the will did not conflict with Aristotle's understanding of virtues as habits. I believe the conflict was both real and serious, that this was one area where the classical conception of the virtues posed grave difficulties for various masters of the late thirteenth century. Aristotle's account of the infallibly virtuous, no less than his account of the incurably vicious, suggested that persons with fully formed moral characters might be powerless to help behaving as they do. Thirteenth-century Christians naturally doubted whether anyone could be so good. Could anyone in this life ever really be beyond danger of moral degeneration? To say the least, the idea is difficult to reconcile with the Christian understanding of a human nature weakened by original sin.

Even Aquinas, a master more sympathetic to Aristotle's teachings than many of his contemporaries, quietly but drastically revised Aristotle's understanding of a habit. "From the very character [ratio] of a habit," Aquinas writes, "it is clear that it is principally related to the will, inasm\lch as a habit is that which one uses when one wills .... ,,3 In the same vein Aquinas argues that a habit does

3· STI-IIae, q. 50, a. 5: "Ex ipsa etiam ratione habitus apparet, quod habet qhemdam prindpalem ordinem ad voluntatem, prout habitus est, quo quis utitur, cum volu-

254 CONCLUSION

not of necessity produce action, for if it did, the power of the soul would not be master of its own acts.4 Instead he consistently describes a habit as that whereby we act when we will, or that which we use when we will. Aquinas can accordingly argue that the habit of virtue is consistent with the act of sin, and (contrary to Aristotle) that the virtuous person can degenerate into vice.s

Was it only Seotus and his fellow travelers who began the transformation of classical virtue ethics that eventually produced the Kantian good will? Or was the transformation already taking place, albeit more subtly, in the works of Aquinas? If there was indeed some dramatic rupture in the history of Western ethics, did it occur in the late thirteenth century, between Aquinas and Scotus, or at least between Aquinas and Ockham? Or did it occur between Aristotle and the Stoicsl or at least between Aristotle and Augustine? Were scholastic efforts to reconcile Christian doctrine and classical virtue ethics admirable but misguided? Were the hybrid theories produced in this period so fraught with internal tensions that they were doomed to languish and die? Or was the project of synthesis a feasible onel undermined only by so many historical accidents?

We cannot give reasonable answers until we understand much more than we do at present about ethics in the later Middle Ages. In the meanwhile, we have no good grounds for either a parable, or a murder mystery, or a tragedy of decline and disintegration. The story of virtue ethics remains to be written.

en't.. ." Aquinas takes this definition, with considerable distortion, from Averroes' long commentary on De anima III, n. 18.

4. See, for example, De virtutibus in communi, q. un., a. I, resp. 5· STI-IIae, q. 71, a. 4·

APH AHDL APP BFSMA Beitrdge BPM GP PS PzS IHP MM MS PB PM RTAM SA SSS

SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY

Abbreviations

Archivum Franciscanum Historicum Archives d'Histoire Doctrinale et Litteraire du Moyen Age Arcmvum Pratrum Praedicatorum Bibliotheca Franciscana Scholastica Medii Aevi Beitrdge zur Geschichte der Philosophie des Mittelalters Bulletin de philosophie medie-vale Collectanea Franciscana Franciscan Studies Franziskanische Studien Journal of the History of Philosophy Miscellanea Mediaevalia Mediaeval Studies Les Philosophes BeIges Philosophes Medievaux Recherches de Theologie ancienne et me-dievale Studia Anselmiana Studia Scholastico-Scotistica

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INDEX

abstinence, 72 Adam, sin of, 25, 176-77, 178-79, IBI,

182,185,188, II2n, 114, 143, 248 advantageous, affection of will fm, 155,

193-98 Aegidius Romanus. See GiIes of Rome akrasia, 70,114,151-55,225-26. See

also incontinence; moral weakness Albert the Great, 55, 99, roo Alexander of Hales, 14, 94, 99, roo Algazali, 9 I Allan of Lille, 140 animals as agents, 106, 172-73 Anselm of Canterbury, 46, 62-66, 101,

111-12,195-96 apatheia, 207-8, 249 appetite, 113-14, 127, 144, Ip. See also

irrational appetite; rational appetite Aristotelianism, 7, 10, 11,20-22, 69,

84-85,9 1-92 Aristotelianism, radical, 12, 40-46, 48,

54-58,65-66,68-69,71,76,85,87, 105,238. See also Averroism; Nicomachean Ethics, "Averroist" commentaries Oll; Sigcr of Brabant

Aristotle, 3-5, la, 13, 17, 35-36, 39-93, 111-16,118,126-27, 129-30,145, 151-55,159-60,164-69,171-72,174, 177,180, IB4, 18S-B7, 190, 200-206, 224-26, 22B-29,232,234,237, 238, 246-47,249-50,252. See also Nicomachean Ethics

Aspasius, 40

Augustine, 8, 25-27, 29, 3D, 34, 46, 62-66,72,78,91,99,110,111-12,206-10, 217,249,254

Augustinian Hermits, Order of, 14-15, 79,80

Augustinianism, 5, 7, 10-14, 17-23,39, 62,64,91-94,111-12,247-48. See also Neo-Augustinianism

Averroes, 40-43, 46, 48, 55 Averroism (Latin): 5, 7, II-I2, 22; defi

nition of, 41-44; See also Aristotelians, radical; Nicomachean Ethics, "Averroist" commentaries on

A vicenna, 85

Balic, Carl, 144 benevolence (benignitasj, P-53 Bemard of Clarrvaux, 66-67, 84,112-13,

rrB, 128, 129, 131, 177 BemaIdinc of Siena, 50 Bettini, Orazio, 84-85, 91-92 Boethius, 64 Bogen, James, 180 Baler, John, 37, 196 Bonansea, B. M., 37 BonaventuIc, 2, 11-13, 14, 20, 22, 44-45,

46-59,62,68,85,92,94,95,96,99, lOO, 101-4, lID, 117, 132-33, 137, 138,147,200,212-16,224,232,241, 249,250. See also Collationes in HexaemeIon

Bougerol, J. G., 54 boulesis, 172, 207

266 INDEX

BaUIke, Vernon, 95, 97 Brady, Ignatius, 45, 65 Burbach, Maur, 89 Burr, David, 84-85

Cajetan, Thomas (de Viol, 28 cause sine qua non, 127-28, 135-49,

m charity (virtue of):, 23-3,~, 53, 66, 114 chastity, 72-73 choice: 98, I03-9, I1, 114-30, 133-34i

moral weakness and, 15 1-98 i moral virtue and, 201-3, 213-17, 222-23,

225-27, 231-32, 235-36,238-45. See also prohairesis

Chrysippus, 207 Cicero, 47, 91, 206-7, .211 Collationes as a genre, 58-59 Collationesin Hexaemeron, 46-59, 92;

differences between Quaracchi and DelaIme editions of, 49-59, 68

command (act of) 67-68, 83, lOI, roS, 126-27, 128

concupiscence, 70 Condemnation of 1277: 2, 5-6, 10, 14,

23,46, 6r-62, 68-82, 86, 89-90, 102, 104-6, lID, lIS, 140; enforcement of by Franciscan order, 89-90; propositio magistralis and, 181-82, 190-93,247

conscience, 143, 187-8B consent (act of), 17B-Bo, IBo-Bl, IB5-B7 continence: distinguished from temper-

ance, 72, 203, 233, 241) status as a virtue, 233, 237; 1277 alticles on, 72-73. See also moral weakness

Correctonum /ratns Thomae: and Augustinians, 12-13; and debate over will's freedom, 105-6, IIO, 1401 composition and Franciscan endorsement, ID, IS, Bl, 8B; and Franciscan criticism of Aquinas, 45; and influence of propositio magistralis, IB3; and theory of knowledge, 16. See also William de la Mare

courage, 31, 200, 201, 205, 214, 219-24, 230, 235

Courtenay, William, 14-15

deliberation, 77,106, 10B-9, IlB-19, 130, 13B-39, 153, 175, 177

Delonne, Ferdinand, 59, 84-B5 desire. See appetite Dihle, Albrecht, 97 disputations, dating of, 59 Dominicans, Io-Il, 14, 59n.

Effler, Ray, 97 Ehrle, Franz, 7

emotions, ordering of, 66, 155, 201-4, 210,213-14,216-24,229-3°,232-33, 2}9-40, 241-42, 250. See also pasSlons

end. of human life; ultimate end. See happmess

enkrateia, 203. See also continence eternity of the world, 43,44-45, 47, 4B,

56, 82 Etienne Tempier (bishop of Paris), 44,

45,46,65,79-80 Eustratius, 40, 67, 83 evil,174-98

faith (virtue of), 25, 32 fonn: plurality of substantial, 16-17; uni

city of substantial, 214-15. See also soul

free decision (liberum arbitrium): early thirteenth-century discussion of, 99-104, I05; as habit, 103-4, 138-40, 147; as habit of will and reason, 132-33; as harmony of will and reason, 100-101, 102-4, lI71 meaning of term, 98-99; and moral responsibility, IlO-HI as power of the soul, IOl; virtue within scope of, 2 I 5; will distinguished from, '38

free will (voluntas liberal, 94-110; asfacuIty of will and reason, 133-34; introduction to scholastic debate, 98, lI7-18; necessary for moral responsibility, 137, 142-43, 148-49; and 1277 Condemnation, 104-6

freedom and necessity, 44, 66, 76-79, '37

freedom of judgment, 131-.P freedom of the will (libertas voluntatis):

and determination by habits, 229-32, 243,2521 introduction to scholastic debate, 99, 109; and moral weakness, 70) and nature, 112; necessary for moral lesponsibility, 113; ontological status of, 99-IOI) and parts of the soul, lII, Il7, 123; 1277 articles concerning, 76-79, B6-B7

Gabriel Biel, 8 Gauthier de Bruges. See WaIter of Bruges Gauthier, Rene, 4n, 47-49, 5r, 55, 72,

73, 205 Gilbert de la Porree, lIB Gilbert, Neal, 209 Gites of Rome (Aegidius Romanus), 2,

14,37, 79-Br, 138, 190,214-15,247. See also propositio magistralis

GUson, Etienne, S-7, 9-13, IS, 2r-23, 28, 32-33

INDEX

Giocarinis, Kimon, 42, 72 Glorieux, P., 60 Godfrey of Fontaines, 2,37,96, roB-9,

13B, 140-41, 144, r45, 146, 18B, 212, 236, 23B, 243

Gonsalvus of Spain (Gonsalvus Hispanus), 96, I3B, r42-43, 14S, 192-93, 200,237,241,243,249

good: as end of action, r52-55; eternal vs. worldly, 29, 471 internal and external, 220; knowledge of obscured by passion, 153-54; proper and common, 52-53; simpliciter, 143, r59, 168-69, 229) will detennined by, loB; as object of the will, 76, 9B, 143, lI9, 121-22, 125,127,131,136,166-67,171,173-74, 17S-76, IBo-B1, 18B. See also happiness; justice, affection of will for

goodness: meritorious, 30, 33, 212-13, 21S-16, 249; moral vs. nonmoral, IB4-B5, IBB, 197-98

grace, 23-34, 5B, Il4, 140, 196,209, 215-16. See also charity

Graf, Thomas, 6o, 61 GregoryNazianzen,5 6 Gregory of Nyssa, 56

habit (habitus): acquired from repeated action, 27) distinguishes intemperance and incontinence, 161-64, 167-68 j and free decision, 103-4, 1]2-33, 134, 147; and free will, 229-32, 23B-40, 243; as genus of virtue and vice, 225-26; of intellec!, 193-94; moral virtues as, 200-201, i'18, 224-29; as partial efficient cause, 243-44, 252; of sense appetite relation to moral virtue, 233-40, 250

Haldane, John, 2r-22 happiness: in afterlife, 24, 47, 4B, 58, 74-

76,208-9,211,215; requiles external goods, 741 an act of will, 89, 96; natural vs. supernatural, 27-34, 90-91; pagan view of, B6; role of pleasure in, 203; result of virtue, 207) 1277 alticles on, 71-76) as ultimate end, IB9, 193, '95

Hardie, W. F. R., 203 Hegelianism, 7 Hellenistic philosophy, 10. See also Sto

icism Henry of Ghent (Henricus Gandavensis),

2, Il, 15, 69-70, 92, 96, 136, 137-38, 139,140-41,142,144, 17B-82, rB3, IB6, 190-93, 200, 212, 229-32, 241, 243, 246, 24B, 252

hexis, 27, 224-26. See also habit Hissette, Roland, 61,-73

Hocedez, Edgar, 18 honor, desire for, SI-52, IB4-85 Honorius IV, 79--80 Hugh of St. Cher, 99, 100 humility, 25, 47, 51-52, 55-56,72,

73-74

ignorance as source of moral elIor, 77, 80,107, 1I5, 122, 127-28, 140, 143, 152,156,158, 16S, 167-69, 173-74, 177, 179-Bl, 191. See also sub ratio boni

illumination theory of knowledge, 15-16,22,54

imagination, IS6-57, 173 incontinence, 70,151-98. See also mo:i:al

weakness intellect: blinded by evil, 194-95; com

mand as act of, 66-68, 83, 128; like a counselor, Il9-20, 121j directed by the will, 117, 1I8, 119-20, 122-23, 131-34,175-76, IB6; disorders of, 70; dependence on imagination, 156-57; like a lamp bearer, 122, 139; natural detennination of, 14B; nobility of, 90, 105; distorted by passions, 2231 direct relation to passions, 212; and sense appetite, IB5-B6, 219; as servant of the will, 84, Il9, 120, 122, 1391 1277 articles on, 183, 191) unicity of, 41-42, 44-45,46,47, 4B, 56; will determined by, 77-79, 84, 96, 102-3, 105, 106-10, II2-13, 119, 130, 143, 14B, 156, 157, 173-74,236-37

intellectual appetite. See rational appetite

intellectualism, 96, 105-ID, lI5-r6, 122, 139, 141-42, IS4, 174-75

intemperance, 153-55, 161-62, 16S, 167, 169,170,179,225-26,253

irrational appetite, 172-73

John DaIr).ascene, 66-67, Il2 John Duns Scotus, I, 2-4,6,8, II-12,

14,31,36-37,91-92,94,95,96,122, 129,143-49,193-98,238-45,246, 25 1,252,253

John of La Rochelle, 94, 99, 100-101 John of Paris. See John Quidort John of Pouilly, 188 JohnPeckham, Io-Il, 12, IS, 59n John Quidort, I06-B JoUf, J., 205 justice: affection of will for, 193-9B; vir

tue of, 24-2S, 66, 200, 217-24

Kant, Immanuel, I, 38, 251, 254 KOIDlec, J. B., 97, 9B

268 INDEX

liberum arbitrium. See free decision Longpre, Ephrem, 59-60 Lottio, Odon, 40, 270, 28, 60, 94, 97,

117,120-21, r87

MacIntyrc, AlasdaiI, 19-25, 32 Mackeo, Rayrnond,z, 97, 121

Magisterial proposition approved at Paris. See propositio magistralis; Giles of Rome

magnanimity, 47, 51-52, 55,73-74 Mandonnet, P., 7, 71

merit. See goodness, meritorious metaphysical doctrines as basis of school

affiliations, 15-16 Michael Baius, 300 Michael of Ephesus, 40 moral point of view, 215-16 moral weakness, 66,70, II4-15, 151-98,

223. See also incontinence Moravcsik, Tulins, r80

natural agents, 147-48; habits as, 225-27,230-32,238,243-45,25 1-53

Neo-AugustinianisID, 12-14, 62, 91-93. See also Augustinianism

Nicholas Trivet, 109-lID Nicomachean Ethics: Aquinas's com

mentary on, 36, 75, 164-72,221-22; JlAverroist Jl commentaries on, 40-41, 55,61, ?I-73, 76; interpretations ofin early thirteenth century, 40; Latin translations of, 40, 67, 75, 172, 221

Oberman, Heiko, 8 opposite acts simultaneously desirable,

'30 original sin, 24, 30, 58, 72, 230. See also

Adam, sin of Oxford, University of, Il-14, 36, 109

Paris, University of, 5-7, Il-14, 36, 40, 69,88,137. See also Condemnation of 1277; propositio magistralis

passions: determination of intellect by, 77-79; involve bodily changes, 210-12; moral weakness and, 153-74, 176-82, 184-86, 188, 192; moral virtue and,201-3, 206-12,214,216-24, 227-30,233,236-42,249-51; Stoic doctrine on, 206-9, 2II-12, 249; attributed to the will, .2Io-12, 227-29, 239, 250. See also emotions, ordering of

Paul, 8, 25-26, 30, 72-73, 91, 208-10, 2'7

Pelagius,78 Peter Olivi (Petrus Johannis Olivi), 16-

18,43-44,84-88,90,93,96,129-37,

138,142,148,185-87,195,200,233-36, 241, 243, 246, 249

Philip the Chancellor, 99, 100 philosophy and theology, relationship be

tween, 5, 6, 9-10, 23, 58, 76, 91, 216, 248-49. See also Thomistic synthesis

philosophy, Roman, 9-10. See also Helle-nistic philosophy; Stoicism

Pius V, 30n Plato, 56, 85 Platonic ideas, 46, 48, 54, 56 pleasure, 82-83, IS4-55, 165, 167-69,

184,188, 203,228,229,240,242,244, 25 0

PIotinus,47 poverty, 57, 72, 74 pride, 25-26 Proclus,41 prohairesis, 84, 144, 151, 153-54. See

also choice propositiomagistralis, 79-81; and Cor

rectorium fratris Tbomae, 183; and freedom of the will, 107; and moral weakness debate, 181-82; and 1277 Condemnation, 190-91, 192-93,247

prudence: command by, 67; natural vs. supernatural, 23, 31; relation to moral virtue, 193-95, 222; ascribed to will, 235-36

Quinn, John, 49

Ranulphe de la Houblonniere (bishop of Paris), 79-80

rational appetite, 1I8, 172, 197 Raymond Lull, 41 reason. See intellect Reformation theology, 7-10 religion (virtue of), 32 Richard Knapwell, 11, 15 Richard of Middleton (Ricardus de Me

diavillaJ, 16-18,88-91,92,96,122, 137,138-40,189-90,-232-33,241

Richard of St. Victor, 67 Robert Grosseteste, 40, 67, ?I, 75, 221 RobertKilwardby, 10, 15 Robert, Patrice, 49 Roberts, Robert, 251 Roland of Cremona, 99 Ross, W. D., 204-5

San Cristobal-Sebastian, Antonio, 60-62,65,95,97,IIl-I2

Satan, fall of, 143, 185, 188 schools of thirteenth-century thought,

7-8,10-12,15-19,45,246-254. See also Aristotelianism; Augustinianism; Thomism

INDEX

sense appetite, 66, 67, 70,106,162-63, 178-79,185-86,212,228,233-40, 250. See also passion

Siger of Brabant, 22, 41, 43, 46, 73-74 sin, II2n, II4, 127-28, 142-43, IS 1-98,

208,224,232,254. See also Adam; incontinence; intempelance; original sin

Soclatic view of moral weakness, 153, 154,174,179-81,188

sopbrosyne, 209-10. See also temperance

soul: as form of body, 127,214-15; rational and irrational parts of, 204-5, 210-Il, 214. See also appetite; intellect; will

Spiritual Franciscans, 84 Stadter, Ernst, 65, 95, 97, 104, 126, I.29, Stoicism, 66, 206-12, 216, 249. See also

Zeno; Chrysippus Strasbourg, Franciscan Chapter General

of: 81 "standard story" of thirteenth-century

philosophy: 1-38, 246-49 sub ratio boni, 107, II9, 158-60, 174-

85,189,197,248. See also good, as object of will; ignorance

temperance (virtue of): 66, 200, 205, .2I9-20, 222-24; distinguished from continence, 72, 203, 241; and emotions, 230, 235; as fixed disposition, 225-26,253; and pleasure, 155, 203i as involving struggle, 209-10

Tempier. See Etienne Tempier temptation, 154-55, 165, 174, 178,203 Themistius,43 theology. See philosophy and theology,

relationship between Thomas Aquinas, 1-2, 3, 5-7, 8,10-17,

22,23-24,27-34,36-37,41,42,45, 47,55,60-61,65-66,68,71,72,75, 79,81-82,99, lOO, 104-6, IIO, 117, 1I8-19, 120-2'1, 124-26, 128, 136-37, 141,155-75,182,200,212, 214-15, 216,228,243,247,252,253,

Thomas of Sutton, 109-10 Thomism, 10, Il, 20, 45, 87-88, 96,

139-40,248 Thomistic synthesis: 5-6, 7-8, 20, 21-

22,34,246 Thompson, J. A. K., 205

Van Steenberghen, Fernand, I.2-13, 15-17,41-42,43,45

vices. See intemper.ancei sin virtues: of angels, 238, 242; of pagans,

25-33; degrees of, 241, 244; cardinal, 2 I 3; excluded from the will as free,

231-32; excluded from sense appetite, 237; as habits, 27, 201-2; as habits of both will and sense appetite, 235; as habits of sense appetite, 200, .212-14, 217-24,230, 236-37i as habits of will, 200-201,224-29,23 2-l6,240-42, 249,253-54; location within soul, 66, III, 199-254; as means, 57; moral related to intellectual, 57, 64, 204; natural and supernatural, 23-25, 27-34, 57, 66; need of will for, 227-28; seCl.mdum quid and simpliciter, 27, 29, 234i supernatural moral, 31-33; 1.277 articles on, 71-76. See also names of specific virtues

volition, causes of, II6-49; efficient, 135-37, J41, 142, 143-49i final, I.2r, 136; formal, rH, 136-37, 141; partial efficient, 146-47, 243-44, 252. See also cause sine qua non

voluntarism, 94-149; definition of, 94-95; differences between early and late doctrines, 100-105

voluntas. See will

WaIter of Bruges, 59-68, 84, 87-88, 90, 92, 95, 117-18, 119-20, 121-23, 128-29,139,13 1-32,135,136,175-78, 224,226-29,248

weakness of will. See.akrasia; inconti-nence

Weisheipl, James, 97 Wielockx, Robert, 2, 79, 80 will: act of command of, 67-68, 101,

108, 126-27; active vs. passive, 101, II7, 130-31, 134-37,235; not in animals, 173; as source of all volition, 148, 172-73i disorders of, 70; divisions of, 231; as source of moral ignorance, 179-81, r83, 192; inaction as option of, 193; role in incontinence, 156, 162, 176i justice attributed to, 217, 219-24; as mover, 67, II6-29; moved by apprehended object, I05, 144i naturally disposed to follow leason, 236-37; need for virtues, 227, 253; nobility of, 90, 95-96; passions of, 2II, 239i political analogy for virtues of, 227-29, 232-33,249-50; potential for virtue or vice, 209-10; prudence ascribed to, 235-36; independence from reason, 139,177,178,182-91; self-movement of, 101, 141, 144, 229-30; 1277 articles on, 76-79, 183, 191. See also advantageous, affection of will fori intellect; justice, affection of will for; free will; freedom of the will

William de la Mare, 8, 10, 1.2-13, IS, 16,

270 INDEX

45,81-84,86,87,89,9°,92,95, 104-5,105-6, rIO, 1.23-29, 131, 135, 136, 137,138,182-85,247,248. See also Correctorium trams Thomae

william of Alnwick, 144, 145 William of Auxerre, 99 William of Baglione, 44-46, 65

William of Ockham, 2, 6, 8, 19l1, 36, 94, 95,238,254

wittiness, 215

Wippel, John, 2, 23ll, 96 WaIter, Allan, 37, 196

Zeno, 207

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Virtues of the will : the transformation of ethics in the late thirteenth century