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Augustine and the Greek Philosophers

Saint Augustine and the Augustinian Tradition
Robert P. Russell, O.S.A. -- Editor

Benedict A. Paparella, Ph.D. -- Associate Editor

Copyright, 1967 by Villanova University Press -- all rights reserved

Library of Congress catalog card number: 67-28192


The 1964 Saint Augustine Lecture


Augustine and the Greek Philosophers


John F. Callahan



Introduction



The Annual Saint Augustine Lecture was formally inaugurated at Villanova University in the Spring of 1959. Dedicated to the general theme "Saint Augustine and the Augustinian Tradition," this lecture series has presented in successive years outstanding scholars from here and abroad who have explored various facets of Augustine's thought and influence having particular significance and relevance to the intellectual and religious problems of our age.


Dr. John Callahan's competence in the fields of classical and philosophic learning is widely recognized. In Patristic studies he is well known as one of the editors of the critical edition of the works of Gregory of Nyssa, undertaken by the Institute for Classical Studies of Harvard University. Since the publication of his work in 1948 entitled "Four Views of Time in Ancient Philosophy," which included an important chapter on Augustine's analysis of time, Professor Callahan has continued his researches into the thought and text of this great Doctor of the Church with the special emphasis upon Platonic and earlier Christian influences.


In the present work, "Augustine and the Greek Philosophers," Dr. Callahan makes available to us a

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considerable and significant part of this fruitful scholarship. The Original lecture, delivered in the Spring of 1964, has been greatly enriched by the addition of copious and critical notes which will prove an asset for all who wish to pursue further the many rich insights suggested in this remarkable lecture. Robert P. Russell, O.S.A. -- Editor

Villanova University

Villanova, Pennsylvania

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Preface:

The present work appears here, except for minor alterations, as it was originally written before the lecture itself, for which numerous omissions had to be made for reasons of time. The editors have generously allowed the fuller version to be printed, along with notes that supply, I trust, the basic references required by the text and offer a limited discussion of some pertinent topics. They have also permitted me to use a considerable amount of Greek and Latin in the text and notes, but, in conformity with the nature of the lecture, the text is intended to be intelligible without a knowledge of these languages.

I am especially glad that I was able to include in the notes an important passage in Greek from Gregory of Nyssa; I have referred extensively to his works her, since he seems to me to represent in an outstanding way the Greek philosophical tradition in its Christian guise. The text of this passage, which is taken from my forthcoming volume of two treatises of Gregory, De oratione dominica and De beatitudinibus, used with the kind permission of E.J. Brill.

The study involved in this work goes back many years and owes much to periods of time provided by the Rockerfeller Foundation, the Fund for the Advancement of Education, the Guggenheim Memorial Foundation, and Georgetown University, to all of which I make grateful acknowledgement. Most of the actual composition was done at the Foundation Hardt, Vandoeuvres-Geneva, which placed it library and other facilities at my disposal; to the Counseil and to the other members of the Foundation Hardt, Vandoeuvres-Geneva, which placed its library and other facilities at my disposal; to the Conseil and to the other members of the Foundation who cooperated in the enterprise I give my sincere thanks. Finally, I am grateful to the editors for offering me the opportunity of participating in this series and for seeing the book through the press.

J.F.C.


Contents

Introduction vii

Preface ix

I.The "Ontological" Argument for the Existence of God

1. Augustine and Anselm 1

2. The Divine Perfection in Greek Thought to Plotinus 5

3. The Divine Perfection in Gregory of Nyssa 11

4. The Divine Perfection in Augustine 16

5. Incorruptibility in Augustine and His Predecessors 20

6. The Greek Background of the "Ontological" Argument 29

7. The "Ontological" Argument in Augustine and Anselm 32

8. The Moral Universe of Augustine 39

9. The "Ontological" Character of Augustine's Argument 43

II. The Flight of the Soul

1. The Divine Origin of the Soul in Greek Thought to Plotinus 47

2. The Flight of the Soul in Augustine 52

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3. The Flight of the Soul in Gregory of Nyssa 55

4. Development within Augustine's Thought 58

5. Augustine and Gregory of Nyssa Compared 62

6. Distinctive Features of Augustine's Treatment 70

III. Time and the Soul

1. The Relation of Time to Soul in Greek Thought to Plotinus 74

2. The Nature of Time in Gregory of Nyssa 77

3. The Psychological Approach of Augustine 82

4. Augustine and His Predecessors Compared 87

5. The Moral Aspect of Time 90

6. Conclusion 93

Notes 96

Index 116

Augustine and the Greek Philosophers


I. The "Ontological" Argument for the Existence of God

1. Augustine and Anselm


In discussing some of the relationships between Augustine and the Greek philosophical tradition that preceded him it may seem strange to take as one's point of departure an argument that is conceived to be the special contribution of a thinker who lived some seven centuries after him. I refer to the argument, called by the name "ontological" since the time of Kant, proposed in the eleventh century by Anselm to prove the existence of God. This argument has had a long and varied history, and there has been no end to the controversy regarding its validity and even its precise meaning. To look at whatever role Augustine may have had in the formulation of this argument not only may indicate something of the influence of the Augustinian philosophy on later thinkers even to the present day, but, more relevantly to our present purpose, may throw some light on the manner in which Augustine was able to take diverse materials from the Greek philosophers and transmute them into something that was an original creation in its own right and at the same time a source of inspiration for those who came after him.


With this in mind we might glance briefly at Anselm's ontological argument and then see what relation it may have to Augustine. Anselm himself tells us that, having previously formulated a series of arguments, he now sought for a single argument that would be sufficient all by itself to prove the existence

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of God.1 The crucial sentences of the argument, which he eventually discovered, run somewhat as follows:


We believe God to be something than which a greater cannot be thought. Such a being surely cannot exist only in the mind; for then it could be thought of as existing in reality also, which is greater. If then the being than which a greater cannot be thought exists only in the mind, it is a being than which a greater can be thought. Since this is a contradiction, there exists therefore something than which a greater cannot be thought, both in the mind and in reality.2


It is not necessary for our purposes to examine the argument in detail, in its metaphysical and epistemological implications, or in what it might actually be said to prove; arid it would be still less to the point to look into the attitudes adopted by later thinkers towards it. On this occasion I am interested rather in whatever origins may be found for this type of argumentation in Augustine and in his predecessors. The search-and a very natural search it is-for an Augustinian source of the ontological argument of Anselm has already led to the work On Christian doctrine, where one sentence in particular has seemed to find an echo in the words of Anselm, when Augustine says that even in the case of those who have identified God wrongly He is thought of in such a way that the thought attempts to reach something than which there is nothing better or loftier.3 There is indeed a great similarity in the modes of expression employed by the two men, and there is good reason

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to believe that Anselm was influenced by his predecessor in this matter. But beyond the limited and largely verbal similarity it would be difficult to maintain that we have here a genuine source of the ontological I argument, since whatever argument the passage contains is quite differently formulated. It is an argument regarding a being than which a better is not thought, not a being than which a better cannot be thought, and it is based on the universal consent to such a being rather than on the content of the conception itself,4 which is the essence of Anselm's argument.


It is possible, however, to find a more substantial and less purely verbal source for the ontological argument in the works of Augustine, in a passage which has been too long neglected in this respect. The passage occurs in the seventh book of the Confessions where he is pursuing his search for the origin of evil, that is, of that which is liable to corruption. He says:


For I was thus striving to discover the other things, as I had already discovered that the incorruptible is better than the corruptible, and so I confessed that You, whatever You are, are incorruptible. For no soul ever was able or will be able to think of anything that is better than You, who are the highest and best good. But since most truly and certainly the incorruptible is placed ahead of the corruptible, just as I had already placed it, I could now have reached in my thought something which was better than my God, if You were not incorruptible.5


In this passage, which seems to me the true Augustinian model for Anselm, there is a genuine argument

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involved, in this case for the incorruptibility of God, an attribute which places Him for Augustine beyond the range of evil. The mode of argumentation is very similar to that of Anselm. God is the greatest conceivable being and must therefore be incorruptible, since, if He were not, then another being possessing this perfection could be conceived that would be greater than God. The argument is based this time on the conception of God as the greatest conceivable being, just as it is in Anselm, the difference being that for incorruptibility Anselm substitutes existence. This substitution, as we shall see, is relatively simple, granted a different philosopher and the exigencies of another age, even though it was the introduction of existence into the argument by Anselm that made it both famous and controversial.


Let us therefore look a little further into the argument of Augustine and also see whether he in turn has any precursors and, in particular, whether there is anything in the Greek philosophical tradition to which he may be indebted. After proving that God is incorruptible, he points out that the substance of God can be touched in no way by corruption; not by any will, since whatever God wills is good; not by any necessity, since God cannot be forced unwillingly towards anything, seeing that His will does not transcend His power; and not by any unforeseen chance, since nothing is unforeseen to God, who knows all things. Why, he concludes, should we offer many arguments to show that the substance which is God is not corruptible, since if it were it would not be God?6

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2. The Divine Perfection in Greek Thought to Plotinus


Underlying the argument of Augustine for the incorruptibility of God, and Anselm's ontological argument for God's existence as well, is a basic principle to the effect that God must possess the highest perfections of which we can conceive, with the attached corollary that a being to which any such perfection is lacking cannot be God. Such a principle can be perceived in Greek philosophy from a very early period, and it can even be traced back to prephilosophical speculation. While we can be sure that this speculation contained rational elements, it is not possible-or necessary for our purposes-to determine the precise nature or extent of these elements. (Such an endeavor would involve us, for example, in the vexed question of the relation between Greek philosophy and the mythology that preceded it, and in various questions that are treated by the students of comparative religion and by the anthropologists.) This principle can be seen operating throughout the history of Greek philosophy, more in some thinkers than in others, and with one or another aspect of the divine perfection emphasized according to the requirements of the period and the purpose of the individual philosopher.


At the beginning of Greek literature, in the nonphilosophical atmosphere of Homer, we can already perceive an adumbration of this principle in certain passages referring to the gods of the Olympian dynasty. In one place (Odyssey 5, 212-213) we read that it is not right [Greek text ...] for mortal women to rival immortal

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goddesses in form and beauty. In a divine realm that is conceived in a highly anthropomorphic way it is not surprising that physical beauty should be prominent among the perfections attributed to the gods. But other prerogatives were also jealously guarded by the immortals. One recalls the flaying suffered by Marsyas at the hands of Apollo, a frequent subject in ancient literature and art, the tragic outcome of the mortal's challenge to the musical ability of the god who was proud to be the leader of the Muses. And Niobe, turned to stone, mourns forever the death of her children, which she brought about by boasting, that her brood surpassed that of Leto, who was the mother of Artemis and Apollo.


This fundamental attitude continued into the period of philosophical speculation, but under the influence of the new approaches to reality and the new conclusions resulting therefrom the notion of God or the divine received a new content, and different perfections came to be included in it. . . Heraclitus offers a significant recognition of the new point of view in the fragment in which he states that the wise is unwilling and at the same time willing to be called by the name of Zeus.7 That is to say, the first principle of all things which he has arrived at by a rational examination of the universe, and in particular the phenomenon of change, a principle which he identifies with his primal fire as well as the wise or God (though the equivalence is not quite certain), may be looked at in two ways: It has been lifted above and purified of the limitations and imperfections associated with the mythological conception of Zeus; but at the same time it has taken over,

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in the new scheme of things, the position of preeminence and authority traditionally occupied by the chief of the gods.


If Heraclitus, on the basis of available evidence, is more conscious of the contributions made by the new science of philosophy to the study of God than his philosophical predecessors had been, it is Xenophanes who expresses the principle we have been discussing in such a way that his stamp is henceforth never absent from the philosophy of God. Along with a series of statements about God that are clearly intended to be at variance with the older anthropomorphic view, he goes on to say (frag. 26) that it is not fitting that God should bustle about now hither now thither. He has arrived at a new conception of the power of God, which is exercised by immobility, not by the many motions in which the gods are engaged, let us say, in the Iliad, where they are represented as going from Mount Olympus to Troy and entering the battle array to assist their favorites. In fact, among the various perfections assigned by Xenophanes to God it is the divine immobility that expresses most significantly for him the advances made by the new way of thinking over the anthropomorphic view of the poets. This significance is not lost on his contemporaries even in non-philosophical literature, as in the tragedies of Aeschylus, where a strong trend to a less anthropomorphic portrayal of divinity is evident.8 In his Suppliants (91-103) we see Zeus enthroned in majestic immobility, ruling the universe, as Xenophanes had put it (frag. 25), by the power of thought alone. In the spirit of Xenophanes (though not based on any

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existing fragment) is the saying of the tragic poet Euripides that God, if He is truly God, is in need of nothing.9


When we look at Parmenides we do not find him referring the term "God" or "divine" to being, which is his special discovery in the history of western thought. But, in fact, his formulation of the problem of thought and being affected all subsequent speculation about God. And he does attribute to his "being" the highest perfections of which he could think,10 but none more striking or more original than that "it is." The immobility stressed in Xenophanes' conception of God is carried over, but it is given a more solid foundation in the very nature of "that which is" as conceived by an intellect operating entirely within its own realm. Parmenides' contribution to the perfection of being is nowhere better expressed than in his statement (frag. 3 ) that it is the same thing that is thought and that is. Whatever may be the precise meaning of this controversial sentence, it indicates such a relation between thought and its object that whatever is conceived as perfection in the order of intellect must be referred to that of being. This point is amplified and confirmed a little later, when he states (frag. 6. 1) that that which can be spoken and thought must necessarily be. He is here striking a keynote that comes to characterize a whole tradition of philosophical thinking through the ages down to the present day. This is the tradition commonly called Platonic, and, however inexact such a term may be in its many uses, it does have a certain relevance and value for us here.


As a result of his examination of human speech and

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thought Plato posited the forms or ideas, those suprasensible models in imitating which, and only in this way, the sensible world around us can make some claim to a kind of being. At the same time, since these forms, and not their sensible counterparts, are fixed and stable, they provide us with the only object of true knowledge that the intellect can have; and there can be said to be knowledge of the sensible world only insofar as amid its change and flux it manifests patters of activity in which with the aid of the senses we can discern the imitation of the eternal forms. Plato has taken the principle first clearly enunciated by Parmenides and he has given it a much wider and more flexible application. He does not call the ideas by the name of God, and in this strict sense they do not belong to his theology. Nevertheless he has thereby made a most important contribution to later theology and to all philosophizing about God. There are many explicit statements in Plato, however, about God, and it would be well to mention some of them very briefly, since they continue the notion of the fitting stressed by Xenophanes, though sometimes only implicitly. In his discourse in the dialogue Timaeus on the origin of the universe he makes frequent reference to the craftsman responsible for the ordering of the universe, whom he calls God. In this highly metaphorical account it is essential to his purpose that the workings of nature be understood in terms of the goodness which underlies them and is indeed the very reason for them. With this in mind he affirms that the cause of the universe is good and, being without envy, desires that everything should be as good as possible.

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We must think that the universe is beautiful and its maker good, for to think otherwise would be impious, he says, employing a word [Greek text ...] from the religious vocabulary to express an equivalent to Xenophanes' conception of that which is fitting to God.11 In speaking of the education of the young in the Republic he repeats Xenophanes' criticisms of the poets, but with an emphasis on the goodness of God, insisting, in fact, that God and everything that belongs to God must be in every way the best (381B). In the Laws he again emphasizes the perfect goodness of God, or of the gods (900D), and he brands as impious the view that the material elements rather than God should be the first of all things (891C-D).


In philosophers such as Heraclitus, Xenophanes, and above all Plato the notion of what is fitting to God has been raised to an entirely new level of discourse. It is no longer in the realm of feeling, whether religious or esthetic, that we have seen in Homer and that indeed may be found throughout Greek literary history in the works of critics who are interested in what is fitting from the standpoint of form and style. New developments in philosophy and science have made it imperative that the chief cause of things, towards which the reason of man is tending, be considered in a way that is uniquely proper to it. From the point of view that will emerge in the centuries after Plato the Parmenidean and Platonic philosophies of being become most important, even though Parmenides has not applied the term "God" to his discovery, "that which is," and Plato, in his employment of basic terms like "God," "being," and "idea,"

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has not seen fit to equate "God" with the others, for reasons that are related to the purpose served by these terms in his dialectic, but which we cannot go into here. But later philosophers, even those who called themselves Platonists, had no hesitation in making combinations and in obliterating distinctions quite at variance with the Platonic method as it may be observed in the works of the master himself. Even before the period of Neo-Platonism there is evidence that the Platonic ideas, the archetypes of sensible becoming, are moving closer to the God who was for Plato primarily a dynamic and moving force. No doubt under the influence of the Aristotelian God, who is a self-thinking thought, the ideas are placed within the mind of God, and it is then a natural step to identify them with God or at least with one facet of divinity, as is the case with Plotinus.


3. The Divine Perfection in Gregory of Nyssa


Unlike Plotinus, however, for whom a divine principle of unity and goodness was placed above and beyond a divine principle of thought and being, a Christian philosopher was not likely to place the being of God on a second level, since his philosophical convictions were formed with the scriptural passage in mind in which God defines Himself for human understanding: "I am who am" (Exodus 3. 14).12 A good example of Christian speculation in this matter is Gregory of Nyssa-whose name I shall have occasion to use a number of times today-from the Cappadocian district of Asia Minor, a man who was

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thoroughly versed in all aspects of Greek culture, philosophical and otherwise. His work is especially pertinent to us here, since he adapts in a striking way many themes that were developed in earlier Greek thought to his explication of Christian doctrine; and, moreover, he brings us close to the time of Augustine himself, since he died just a few years before Augustine wrote the Confessions. Gregory, much as he is indebted to the thought of Plotinus in many matters, is unequivocal in affirming being of God, saying, for example, that "to be truly" is a proper identifying mark of divinity;13 and, lest one be tempted in the manner of Plotinus to separate being and goodness, he states that being in the proper sense is the nature of the good.14 He often quotes the statement, "I am who am," saying, for, instance, that it offers one mark of true divinity; only that is truly divine, therefore, which is eternal and infinite in its being.15


This philosophy of being has its roots in the thought of Parmenides and of Plato, for both of whom likewise change and the time that goes along with change must be eliminated from a consideration of true being. For Parmenides says (frag. 8. 5) that being was not in the past and it will not be in the future, since it is now all at once; and Plato tells us (Timaeus 37E-38A) that men apply the terms "was" and "will be" wrongly to eternal being, whereas "is" alone is the correct term. But Gregory joins closely with his philosophy of the divine being the notion of what is fitting to God. Parmenides does not emphasize the conception of the fitting, and Plato's use of it is concerned primarily with God as the moving power in his dialectical

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ordering of the universe, and not with being, which, in the most usual sense of the term, is applied to the intelligible ideas in opposition to the sensible universe. Since the time of Plato the category of the "fitting" came to be used more and more with respect to God, so much so that a special term, for all practical purposes new, might now be employed, the OE07rpEffE's, that is, the God-befitting. This adjective is used with great frequency in Gregory to qualify some word like "thought" or "conception" that has the being of God as its object, or the word "name" as it is applied to God's being. The significance of the "God-befitting" is indeed so powerful that for Gregory it can be quite sufficient to say that a certain conception or name is not God-befitting in order to dismiss it from further consideration.16 We are moving in a realm of discourse reminiscent of the Parmenidean principle that what is thought and said must be, though in Gregory, of course, the rules that govern our thinking and saying are far more complex than they were in Parmenides, especially since we now have to take into account the intervention of Scripture with all that it reveals about the being of God. We have, in effect, in Gregory a fusion of Xenophanes and Parmenides, since for him only that which can properly be thought of God is actually thought of Him; anything else would be a contradiction that is not thought at all but only seems to be so. And we are not lacking echoes of the Platonic notion of "right" [Greek text ...] in this connection, as when we read that it is not right to attribute sense organs to God17 or to deny that the divine nature is always good.18 Moreover, instead of that which is

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fitting or right or the opposite Gregory may speak of the "pious" [Greek text ...] or the "impious," employing extensively this related category applicable to thinking or speaking of God.


With this background in mind, and without forgetting the role played in Gregory's discussions of God by the proper mode of thinking and speaking, about Him, let us look at a few types of expression he employs regarding God's being. First of all, with respect to the conception we have of Him, we must conceive Him as perfect in His goodness.19 Whatever has the signification of the better must be included in our thinking about Him,20 and whenever the inferior is predicated we no longer have a conception of God.21 In the second place,. we must likewise recognize that the name "God" signifies all perfection.22 But, thirdly, we must grant that the complete perfection comprehended in our conception of God and expressed in the name "God" belongs to Him truly and not just in name.23 In particular, we must admit that there is nothing greater than the divine nature to which it could change, because whatever is greater is in God.24 Looked at negatively, we can say that God had no beginning, for otherwise He would not be God;25 and if the divine nature were in any way changeable, it would not be divine.26 In fact, he says, in the manner of Plotinus, it is characteristic of the divine nature alone to be diffusive of good, while it is itself in need of nothing else.27


In Gregory of Nyssa we see the culmination of a number of philosophical arguments, all of them adapted to the needs of a new time and, in particular, to

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the requirements of the situation, both philosophical and theological, in which Gregory found himself, since the doctrines stated above are directed against one or another heresy of his day. At the very center of his thought is the Parmenidean principle that what we can think and say is also that which exists. By means of this principle Parmenides arrived for the first time at changeless, eternal being; Plato set up the ideas as the archetypes of the whole world of becoming and the only true object of our knowledge; Plotinus devised a trinity of principles arranged in a hierarchy, the first of which, as the source of all being, must be beyond all being and therefore beyond the reach of thought as well. To a philosopher who does not belong to this tradition, in particular to an Aristotelian, such a procedure would appear as the confusing of two different orders, the logical and the metaphysical. Or, as Thomas Aquinas puts it in criticizing, the ontological argument of Anselm, this is an unwarranted passing from the mind to reality.28 To a philosopher, however, in the so-called Platonic tradition, amid all the differences that distinguish its members from one another, our conceptions and the words in which these conceptions are embodied enjoy a closer and more intimate relationship with their extra-mental counterparts than another type of philosopher would be prepared to admit. The modes in which our conceptions exist determine the modes of extra-mental reality. This is even true of Plotinus, for whom the first principle is utterly beyond all thought, and for Gregory of Nyssa, who never tires of cautioning us that human thought cannot hope to reach the essence of God.29

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4. The Divine Perfection in Augustine


Augustine is the inheritor of the wealth accumulated in this tradition in the course of many centuries, and this is abundantly clear even when we cannot precisely determine whether or not he has read a given text, let us say, of Gregory of Nyssa, to whom he shows many resemblances, and not just in his philosophizing about God. Similarities may be found even to Xenophanes (frag. 11. 3), as when Augustine, following Varro, criticizes the anthropomorphic gods of the pagans for their thievings and adulteries in words that echo those of his long past predecessor.30 More positively, he is often searching for the proper way of speaking of God, but finds that of all the things that are said of Him nothing can be said that is worthy of Him. We seek for a name that is fitting (congruum), but we do not find it.31 We should note, however, the characteristic way in which Augustine is able to turn this point to his own advantage, in exclaiming that, despite the insuperable difficulty of saying anything about God, woe betide those who are silent about Him, since even the talkative are mute.32 Plato and Gregory, when they discuss the first principle of all things, emphasize its overflowing goodness by stating that it is untouched by envy. Augustine does the same, associating envy on many occasions with the devil;33 but at the same time as he removes from God every defect such as this he may counterbalance the negation by attributing to God, through a restrained and calculated anthropomorphism, some positive aspect of the defect, saying, for example, that God is jealous and

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yet without concern.34 Words of a basically religious character, which we have seen Plato employ to express what is proper or improper with regard to God, and which are used by Gregory in great profusion, are frequently found in Augustine, as when he says, speaking of free will, that it is unlawful (nefas) to believe that God has given man something He should not have given him,35 or when he states that it is blasphemous (sacrilegum) to think that the archetypes of things are outside of God."36


It would, of course, be wrong to consider such passages non-philosophical merely because of the presence of words that have a religious background. In Gregory and Augustine (as in many of their predecessors), one need hardly repeat here, there is not to be found the sharp distinction between philosophy and theology elaborated at a later date. This same point is indicated by another passage, from his treatise on the Trinity, that is especially relevant to our purpose: Here Augustine is considering whether it is fitting (dignum) to call God substance. The name suggests to him a subject in which accidents have their existence, and therefore only changeable and not simple things are called substances properly (proprie). If God is called substance properly (proprie), then He is not simple, and His attributes exist in Him as in a subject, greatness, omnipotence, goodness, and whatever else is attributed to God not improperly (incongrue). But, he counters, it is unlawful (nefas) to say that God is the subject for His goodness and that His goodness is not itself substance, or rather essence. It is clear then that God is called substance

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improperly (abusive), and He should rather be called essence, which may be applied to Him truly and properly (vere ac proprie). So perhaps God alone should be called essence, for He alone truly is (est), because He is unchanging and because He revealed that name to Moses in saying, "I am who am."37


The main tenor of this passage, and of others like it, is philosophical, consisting in a rational examination of what is involved in being a substance or an essence, as Augustine understands these terms, or rather as he attempts to understand something of God and communicate this understanding by means of these terms. It is by now a well-established position, both in the Greek east and in the Latin west, that being or existence in the full sense of the word belongs to God alone,38 and Augustine-tine is in the forefront of those maintaining this position. His argumentation here hinges on such an attribution, and the scriptural reference to the name revealed to Moses is employed as confirmation. The word "unlawful" (nefas) is an echo of the Platonic -theology, but this word and its equivalents have long since been taken over and their use greatly extended in the Christian tradition, as in Gregory of Nyssa. Most striking perhaps in this passage of Augustine is the frequency with which various words meaning, "proper" or "improper" in some sense have been employed. Though we must think of Xenophanes, we might also be inclined to say that we are far removed from a thinker who tells us that it is not fitting for God to bustle about, now hither, now thither. Yet Augustine in general is very much preoccupied with setting God apart from mov-

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ing things, and the frequency of his insistence on the e divine immobility may even at times seem surprising. In this passage the term "substance" offers difficulty to him precisely because it suggests that God is numbered among things that are changeable as well as non-simple; and the reason offered for saying that God alone truly is, we should note, is that He is unchanging. But, though the frame of the "fitting" and the "proper" shows a distant kinship with Xenophanes, the actual content of Augustine's argument here is in a direct line from Parmenides and Plato, and likewise a number of other figures who elaborated the philosophy of being, such as Plotinus and Gregory. Any term applied to God is improper if it implies a diminution of His being, and a term is proper if it attributes true being to Him alone.


The interest in conceptions and terms that we have already noted in Gregory is found also in Augustine, in most cases even intensified because of his tendency to approach a problem in a psychological and introspective way. He tells us that during the period when he was struggling to come to a knowledge of God he came across Aristotle's work on the categories, which he tried to apply to an understanding of God without success.39 He never tires of asking what is the meaning of the word "God." There is a word, he says on one occasion, that remains within the man himself as the sound is uttered by his lips, and this word has a spiritual power, that which the hearer understands from the sound rather than the sound itself. What is produced within your heart, he asks, when you hear the word "God"? You think of the very highest substance

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transcending all changeable creatures. And if I should ask you whether God is changeable or unchangeable you would answer without hesitation, "Perish the thought that I should believe or think God changeable; He is unchangeable." Your soul, however small, however attached perchance to things of the flesh, could answer only that God is unchangeable. How then were you able to flash forth to that which is above all changeable creatures so as to reply with certainty that God is unchangeable? What do you have within your heart when you think of a substance that is living, eternal, all-powerful, infinite, everywhere present and everywhere whole? When you think of those things this is the word "God" in your heart. While the word that consists of sounds passes away, that word which is signified by the sound remains.40


I may remark,. parenthetically that Augustine shares the preoccupation of later Neo-Platonism with the names that may properly be applied to God. Chiefly y through the agency of the Pseudo-Dionysius the treatment of this problem finds its way even into the more Aristotelian precincts of Aquinas. As a result he too raises in this connection the question of propriety, one which has found a Platonic atmosphere the congenial one in which to thrive. 41


5. Incorruptibility in Augustine and His Predecessors


It is significant that Augustine, with all the emphasis placed on the being of God in his works and in those of his predecessors, turns his attention to the

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incorruptibility of God, as we have seen, in the passage where he anticipates the ontologi, cal argument of Anselm. Part of the reason for this lies in his overriding interest in the unchangeability that sets God apart from the world of created things, as we have noted in the passage just paraphrased, a preoccupation that is at least as pronounced as anything similar in Plato or Plotinus. But with the increasing interest in the role of man in the universe, in accordance with the Christian economy of salvation, as becomes very clear by the time of Gregory of Nyssa, terms like 'mortality" and "corruptibility," both of them aspects of change, have a greater significance than before, since the death of man and his liability to sin come more and more into the main focus of attention. In particular, the Christian philosophers received from the pagan Neo-Platonists the doctrine that evil is not something, positive but is rather a privation of being and good ness, and they soon adapted this to their own discussions of moral and metaphysical problems. Augustine, therefore, when he attempted to discover the origin of evil in human life, was by no means without predecessors in this matter, and the answers he gives show at every point their influence. It is not clear, however, how far their help was available to him in the early days of his search, and, in any case, the answers he was seeking were not merely theoretical, but practical ones that had to be worked into the pattern of his daily life.


Throughout the pages of the Confessions we can see this search going on constantly, but the account he offers at the beginning of the seventh book has a

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special interest for us here. He has given up the Manichaean doctrine that there is a supreme principle of evil as well as of good, and he no longer thinks of God as a body; but beyond this he does not know where to turn. He contrasts himself, the thinker, a man and the kind of man he was, with the object at which his thought was aiming the most high, the one and true God. (We recall his statement that the soul, small as it is and burdened with the flesh, can know that God is unchangeable.) He then adds that, despite his perplexities, he believed in his innermost being that God is incorruptible, inviolable, and unchangeable. The reason for this was that, though he knew not whence or how this should be, he saw clearly and certainly that whatever can be corrupted is inferior to that which cannot; what cannot be violated he unhesitatingly placed ahead of that which can; and whatever suffers no change he considered better than that which can change. And while he was s still obliged to think of God as extended somehow in space, though devoid of body, yet he thought of Him as incorruptible, inviolable, and unchangeable, which he placed ahead of their opposites.42 As we look at the argumentation that Augustine offers here, namely, that God is incorruptible and so on because things that are so are better than those that are not, it is clear what the implied premise of his syllogism is: whatever is better must be attributed to God, a principle that is at least strongly implied in all the thinkers so far mentioned, and one that is stated quite explicitly by Gregory of Nyssa.


Since Augustine himself, as he tells us, did not know the source of these convictions he held so firmly, it is

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impossible for us to do more than speculate on this interesting and important question. It may be that certain doctrines of Plotinus were conveyed to him in the sermons of Ambrose, set forth no doubt in an appropriately Christian manner.43 I have had suspicions from time to time that Augustine had some kind of contact with the works of Gregory of Nyssa, since in many ways the doctrines of Gregory seem to be natural predecessors to those of Augustine; but sufficient documentation is not available on this point to be convincing. In any case, whatever external influences may have affected Augustine at this crucial point in his spiritual life, we may be sure that the shape of his thoughts and beliefs was primarily the work of his own vigorous spirit, as we see it operating everywhere else. There is a question to what extent we may accept as historical the steps in his conversion as recounted in the Confessions. But this question does not concern us here. It is just as good for our purposes to know that at some time he held the convictions just stated, and that when he was writing the Confessions he considered these convictions to be a fitting prelude, historically or philosophically, to the formulation of the argument that we are undertaking to study.


He proceeds then to recall an argument against the Manichaean position that his friend Nebridius had used some time before while they were still in Carthage.44 (The incident has an air of historicity, and it may have affected his way of thinking of the incorruptible, especially since he sees fit to report it at this point.) After describing the dilemma in which the Manichaeans had been placed by the argument of Nebridius, Augustine

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sums up his own reaction: If the Manichaeans should call God's substance incorruptible, then their whole position would be false and detestable (exsecrabilia) but if they should call it corruptible, that statement in itself would already be false and from the very start abominable (abominandum). Since this second alternative, Augustine indicates, would be the only way in which they could continue to maintain their basic teachings, they could not escape from the dilemma without committing a terrible sacrilege of heart and tongue. The unusually strong language he uses here, in applying the terms "abominable" and "terrible sacrilege" to the view that God's substance might be considered corruptible, shows how deep-seated and strongly felt was his conviction that the attribute of incorruptibility surely, one might almost say above all, must not be denied of God.


Though it is difficult to determine precisely whose teachings regarding God's incorruptibility were available to Augustine in his earlier life, we can perhaps be a little more sure why this question stirred his feelings so deeply. Along with his growing discontent with the Manichaeans, and his eventual revulsion towards them, he was constantly preoccupied with the problem of evil in his own life. He found himself perpetually falling short of an ideal that he saw quite clearly in his mind and that, sometimes at least, he desired ardently to attain. This discrepancy between the actual and the ideal in the moral order became for him the chief question to be answered in his pursuit of philosophical truth, and at the same time it provided him with his most important motivation. There are in-

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numerable passages in the Confessions and other works to substantiate this; but most striking is the one that immediately follows his recalling the anti-Manichaean argument of Nebridius, where he tells graphically of his search for the cause of evil. He held firmly at the time in question that God, the true God, is incorruptible, unalterable, and in every way unchangeable. Though he had not yet arrived at the cause of evil, he knew that he could not seek it in such a way as to believe the unchangeable God changeable, lest he himself become the very thing he was trying to explain, namely, evil. This knowledge gave him the confidence and the certainty that the Manichaeans were wrong; for be had seen them, searching for the cause of evil, full of evil spite themselves, thinking, that the substance of God suffered evil rather than that their own committed evil. He then outlines his first attempts to find the origin of evil in the free will, but tells how he was unable to reconcile this with the goodness of God. Despite his great discouragement, however, he was not cast down into the hell of error where no one confesses to God, thinking that God suffers evil rather than that man commits it.45


This somewhat detailed examination of the context preceding Augustine's actual argument for the incorruptibility of God has been necessary to show how it is to be understood, not only as a piece of theoretical reasoning, but also as an expression of the unhappiness and frustration he was experiencing in his whole life, moral as well as intellectual. With regard to the elements of the argument itself, we have noted how in one way or another they can be found in various

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Greek philosophers, both pagan and Christian. As for the principle that whatever is best belongs to God, we can see this operating in a sense as far back as the earliest Greek literature; in particular, the notion of that which is fitting or proper to God, employed in an increasingly philosophical way by Xenophanes and Plato, reaches a climax in the "God-befitting" of Gregory of Nyssa. The acceptance of incorruptibility as such a perfection has its roots in the very origins of philosophy itself, namely, in the search for something that abides amid the coming to be and passing away of everything in the world around us. Terms like "unalterable" and "impassive" become standard predicates of the first principle early in Greek thought. This general tendency of philosophy is given a special direction by the dialectical use of the good as a first principle by Plato, ;especially in the Timaeus and the Republic,46 and by the subsequent metaphysical use of the good in Plotinus. In Plotinus a moral force is also attached to the good, that which is farthest removed from change and corruption, in his explanation of evil, and this is taken over and considerably amplified by the Christian philosophers, who, like Gregory, must deal with the problem of sin and salvation, that is, with the moral significance of the corruptible and the incorruptible, such as we meet it in Augustine.


The three supplementary considerations offered by Augustine to confirm his proof for the incorruptibility of God likewise have distant origins in Greek speculation, both philosophical and prephilosophical. (1) The statement that God can will only the good goes lato;47 and the very positive back at least as far as Plato;47 and the very positive

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doctrine of Plotinus on this point, despite a different understanding of what the freedom of the first principle means, is reflected in the Christian predecessors of Augustine.


(2) As for the notion that God cannot be forced against His will through a lack of power, this has had a varied history in Greek thought. As early as Homer there is a groping for a supreme being that surpasses all things in power. Zeus is represented as telling all the other gods and goddesses that their combined power would not avail against him (Iliad 8. 18-27); and he has only to nod his head to make Olympus quake (Iliad 1. 528-530). But Xenophanes found the motions by which the Homeric gods exercise their activities too anthropomorphic, and for him God remains without motion in the same place, without toil stirring all things by the power of His mind. The metaphorical craftsman called by the name of God in Plato's Timaeus is in some way faced by the force of Necessity, which is connected with the materials that must be employed in the fashioning of the universe;48 but the metaphors involved in this conception, however they may be interpreted, do not militate against the far-reaching extent of the divine power. Aristotle, who sees in the Homeric description of the overwhelming power of Zeus an anticipation of his own unmoved mover,49 says of this cause of bis that it moves by being loved,50 thereby carrying the effortless exercise of power propounded by Xenophanes into a completely pbilosophical conception of the highest cause of all things as the end towards which they are striving. L ater developments of the notion of divine power, such as

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are found in the Stoics, are widely reflected in poetry and other non-philosophical literature. In Plotinus, as one would expect, the power of the first principle is absolute.51 This is true also for the Christian philosophers, though their view of the divine omnipotence Is naturally affected by their conception of a very personal God; and even before Augustine they encounter problems, such as are doubtless in the mind of Plato, in reconciling God's omnipotence with the existence of evil.


(3) Finally, there is the question of God's knowledge, so that nothing can happen by any unforeseen chance. Anaxagoras was the first philosopher to make mind explicitly the moving cause of all things, controlling and arranging them through knowledge. Plato, having his craftsman fashion the sensib le universe in imitation of eterrial models, begins the tradition of exemplarism. Aristotle's God, the self-thinking thought, is not said to have any knowledge of the universe, but such knowledge is not to be ruled out. Before the time of Plotinus the Platonic ideas had been placed in a divifle mind; that is where they are for Plotinus, thoug. 1 this mind, despite its perfection of being and of knowledge, takes second rank to the first cause, which transcends all being and knowledge. The Plotinian hierarchy of divine principles is unified in the God of the Christian thinkers; and they, like him, hold that there is a providence inasmuch as the divine intelligence, containing the archetypes of all things, knows and directs all things. Here also special problems arose in the Christian tradition because of the existence of evil in a universe watched over by the providence

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of God. All in all, there was no paucity of materials available to Augustine in constructing his argument for the incorruptibility of God.


6. The Greek Background of the "Ontological" Argument


It is possible now to raise the question in what does the ontological argument and its predecessors consist ' and then what is the position to be assigned to Augustine in the long-continued development Of this argument. There is a basic principle present in every argument of this kind, namely, that the highest perfection or perfections are to be predicated of God, that is, the highest cause. This principle is employed as the major premise of the argument, and it is presented as self-evident, thoug of explanation may be offered for it, with the notion of "fitting" and "proper" expressed or implied. The particular perfection to be predicated is set forth in the minor premise, which will vary with the thinker and the purpose for which he is constructing the argument The major premise is therefore a kind of form, which comes down through the tradition I have been discussing, to be given from time to time a different content.


In the poems of Homer, where the conception of the gods is highly anthropomorphic, it is to be expected that physical beauty will be considered a prominent attribute of the divine nature. When we read that it is not fitting for a mortal woman to vie with immortal goddesses in beauty, we are being told that the highest

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beauty is fittingly attributed to goddesses. On the other hand, since Xenophanes is rebelling against this anthropomorphism, and especially against el the excessive motion that seems to him to characterize the gods of the poets, he criticizes this motion as unfitting and offers in turn a conception of God as ruling the universe with majestic immobility through the power of thought alone.


But it is Parmenides who, dissatisfied with the compromises between being and becoming in which bis predecessors seemed to become involved, arrives for the first time at a genuinely philosophical conception of the complete perfection of that which is. He is guided into the depths of this new realm of thought, not by ill fortune [Greek text ...], but by right (Grk, a word echoed, as we have seen, by Plato and Gregory) and by justice [Greek text ...].52 He is thus able to avoid the other path, that towards non-being, a path which cannot be explored, one that is unthinkable and nameless.53 Although Anaxagoras may not have been the first to give mind some kind of role in the universe, it is he who gives it the acttihl domination over the workings of nature (despite the reservations of Plato and Aristotle on this point54 ). In order to fulfill the functions that he thought such a moving power must have he determined that it should be unmixed with the elements of the universe and entirely independent of them; only in this way can it control all things. For the same reason it must be considered the finest and purest of all things, and it has complete knowledge and the highest power. 55


Plato, in his endeavor to understand the universe in

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terms other than the partly or wholly mechanistic ones of most of his predecessors, sets it within a framework of reason and goodness, asking us, in the myth of the Timaeus, to view it as proceeding from the ordering hand of a divine craftsman, who it would be impious to think is other than good, and who holds back nothing within his power from his handiwork in a spirit of envy. This account is supplemented by that of the Republic in which the idea of the good is elevated to the highest position, placed even "on the other side of being.56 The Platonic good is crystallized in the transcendent good of Plotinus, which is complete and self-sufficient, lacking nothing and communicating the overflow of its perfection to all things.57 This principle is likewise the most perfect unity, even going beyond intelligence, in which we are able to distinguish the duality of knower and known. The cause for Plotinus must always be simpler than the effect, and so the first cause must be the simplest of all.58 But it is not called one in the sense that unity is predicated of something other than itself, as happens in our experience of unity. No name, he says, is truly proper [Greek text ...] to it; but, since we must call it by some name, we may properly [Greek text ...] call it "one" with the necessary reservations.59


Of the philosophers who attribute one or another perfection to God for reasons they consider good and sufficient, none is more conscious of his motives for doing so and of the propriety or impropriety of a particular attribution than is Gregory of Nyssa. For this reason he may be taken as representing the stage immediately preceding Augustine in the development

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of the ontological argument, as indeed he precedes him shortly in time. He is constantly making explicit use, as we have seen, of the principle that whatever is better or greater is in God, or that whatever is better in our conception or in the meaning of a term must be considered as belonging to God. Most significant perhaps from our point of view is his interest in what is meant by the term "God," with the complementary statement that a perfection must belong to God truly, not just in name. (Is he here anticipating that aspect of Anselm's argument that seemed to Aquinas an illegitimate passing from the mind to reality?) He also offers examples of the corresponding negative position, namely, that if some perfection is lacking the being in question cannot be God.


7. The "Ontological" Argument in Augustine and Anselm


Augustine follows along in this tradition, taking over the formulations that had been made explicit in the'stage that Gregory had reached, and focusing them on the perfection of God that was most relevant to him at a time when he was feeling most keenly his own corruptibility. The mode of expression likewise is more concentrated than the more diffuse statements of Gregory, since Augustine compresses both the positive and the negative positions of Gregory into the same argument. Gregory's statement (if we may make a composite one for him) that all perfections belong to God as both the greatest and the greatest conceivable being is reflected in the argument of Augustine

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as a whole regarding a single perfection of God. On the other hand, Gregory's statement (again composite) that if a perfection is lacking we are clearly not dealing with God is expressed by Augustine in saying that if God were not incorruptible then he could think of some other being that was better than God. But this negative position enters Augustine's argument in such a way that it occupies the chief place, and indeed through it, and only through it, is the other, more positive position expressed. That is to say, Augustine does not declare in so many words that God as the best conceivable being must be incorruptible; he says rather that if He were not incorruptible then we could think of another being better than He is, though we really know that God is indeed the best conceivable being. It is this absurdity into which we are led that constitutes the argument in Augustine. Though all the materials for the argument have been provided for him by the tradition of which he is a part, it is he who has devised its distinctive form.


It is this very form that is taken over by Anselm, but with a change of content, that is, with the substitution of God's existence for His incorruptibility. This is clear from a simple comparison of the two arguments. For Anselm God is that than which a greater (maius) cannot be thought; for Augustine, with the more vivid active voice, no soul can think of anything that is better (melius) than God. For Anselm, if one does not attribute actual existence to such a being, then one could think of an actually existing being that would be greater; for Augustine, if one does not attribute incorruptibility to such a being, then one

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could think of an incorruptible being that would be better. Above all, in both thinkers the essence of the argument consists in pointing out the absurdity that one falls into when the perfection in question is denied of the being that is held to be the best or the greatest that can be thought.


But, despite the similarity in form of the two arguments, some might wonder (though others would not be greatly concerned by this point) how direct the dependence of Anselm on the text of Augustine is,60 thinking, for example, that Anselm uses the adjective greater" (maius) and expressions that are passive and relatively impersonal, such as "that than which a greater cannot be thought"61 and "in the intellect," whereas Augustine uses the adjective "better" (melius)62 and more active and lively expressions, such as "no soul could ever think" and "I could have reached in my thought." Even though such variations would be in no way surprising, granted the natural differences in temperament and style of the two men, still we should read orxa few lines further in the text of Anselm. Having proved that God exists, he proceeds to prove in similar fashion that He cannot be thought of as not existing. For if He could, then He would be less than a being whose non-existence would be impossible to think of. So we would fall once more into the contradiction of saying that some being was thought of as greater than the being than which a greater cannot be thought. Thus God exists so truly that His non-existence cannot be thought. And rightly so, says Anselm. For if some mind could think Of something better than God then the creature would

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rise above and pronounce judgment on the creator, which is completely absurd.63 In this sentence Anselm shifts from "greater" (maius), which he has used constantly to this point, to the "better" (melius) of Augustine, and the construction, changing to the active voice, becomes very similar to one of Augustine, "some mind" taking the place of "any soul" as the subject. It is even possible that when Anselm speaks of the creature rising above the creator to sit in judgment on Him he is offering a more dramatic version of the corresponding statement Augustine makes, namely, that he could have reached something in his thought that was greater than God (if God were not incorruptible).64 Finally, Anselm's characterization of the opposing position as contradictory (convenire non potest) and completely absurd (valde absurdum) makes explicit for the first time the reductio ad absurdum which is the foundation, not only of the two arguments Anselm has just used, but also of their prototype in Augustine.


It is interesting to note, from the historical point of view, that Anselm seems, and quite sincerely, to be unaware of any indebtedness on his part to Augustine for his ontological argument. He tells in his preface to the work of the deep meditations that preceded his discovery of this argument, or rather, the argument's forcing itself upon him.65 This is in a way ironical, since he was certainly aware of his indebtedness in general to Augustine, and of another of his works he even says that there is nothing in it that is not in agreement with the writings of the Fathers and especially of Augustine.66 We can well believe that, despite the

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similarity of the arguments of the two men, Anselm did not have the text of Augustine before him (and this indeed makes the similarity more striking). He was so well acquainted with the works of Augustine over a long period of time that Augustinian modes of argumentation and even choice of words had become second nature to him. The struggles he relates so graphically of the argument's attempts to come to the surface of his mind were, to a considerable extent, an effort on his part to bring to bear on the problem he faced all his resources, natural and acquired, and the latter were, directly or indirectly, strongly Augustinian. The form the argument took, when it finally came to birth, was the one that had been given to it by Augustine, though its antecedents are much older. Anselm gave this form a new- content, that of God's existence. But the notion that only God truly is is also readily available in Augustine (as well as iii Gregory and many others, who employed both philosophical and scriptural reasons to support this position; and it comes ultimately from Greek thinkers who knew nothing of the Scriptures. )


Thus both the form and the content of the ontological argument are in Augustine, one may say, though separately. Anselm had not the imperative need to prove the incorruptibility of God that inspired Augustine; he used the argument for what was most pressing to him, that is, to prove God's existence. Even the terminology that he required for his argument is, as we have seen, Augustinian. It may be clear, therefore, that pervading the argument of Anselm there is a philosophical spirit that relates it to Augustine and to

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a long tradition before him. In the entire process by which the ontological argument came finally to be formulated there are at least three well-defined stages. In the first of these, of which Gregory of Nyssa may be taken as representative, a number of notions about God that had been developed during the whole course of Greek philosophy are articulated and applied to the great problem of fusing the philosophical and scriptural heritages amid a heightened awareness of the propriety or impropriety of conceptions and of terms, especially as these have reference to God. So we find, in particular, two Gregorian and generally Greek principles carefully formulated and constantly employed, namely, that all perfection belongs to God, and whatever being is imperfect or inferior cannot be God. Next Augustine combines these two principles and fashions from them his argument for God's incorruptibility, based, as we noted, on a reductio ad absurdum. Finally Anselm takes the Augustinian form and gives it a new content, which is itself to be found in Augustine and in others as well.


As for the basic motivation underlying the whole tradition from which the ontological argument springs, it is easy enough, as we saw, to find a tendency even before the beginning of philosophy to ascribe to God or to some kind of divine principle one or more perfections that are considered outstanding. But it would be wrong to forget that with the advent of philosophy a preexisting habit of mind was given a new depth and an entirely new significance through a critical examination of human knowledge and its object. This strictly philosophical outlook can be noted by the time

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of Parmenides, who strikes the keynote for an entire tradition of philosophical and theological thinking when he declares that what can be spoken and thought must be. Such a view takes over the pre- or the nonpbilosophical category of the "God-befitting," which seems in Xenophanes also to have achieved some philosophical significance, and applics it in the strictest sense to that which truly is. Thus Parmenides' description of that which is and of the attributes that belong to it could never be forgotten from that point forward by philosophers of the western world when they spoke of God, and in particular not by those who belonged to the tradition which we liave been discussing. The use made of his principle by Parmenides himself shows that the mind is not intended by him to establish arbitrary correspondences between itself and reality. But h& and the tradition of which he is a part insist that when the mind is operating at the highest level of its activity, that is, on the highest objects of its knowledge, then there is a correspondence between thought attd reality. Thus we have the preoCcupation with true, that is, suprasensible being as the proper object of the intellect in a certain group of philosophers, and the eventual result of this preoccupation is the argument of Anselm. It is not accidental that Augustine, in the course of his argumentation, declares that no soul ever was able or will be able to think of anything which is better than God, and, a little later, that he himself would have been able to reach in thought something which was better than God if God were not incorruptible. This is the same interest in the conception we have of God already

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noted in Gregory of Nyssa, and it is clearly reflected in the terminology of Anselm.


8. The Moral Universe of Augustine


We may then wonder why Augustine, with philosophies of "true being" before and after him, and with such a philosophy of being to be found in his own works, should have devised the forerunner of Anselm's argument for the special purpose of proving God's incorruptibility. The reason is not at all that he neglects the being of God; he maintains unequivocally, as we have seen, that only God truly is. The explanation lies partly in the tradition that Augustine was following, partly in his handling of that tradition. In that tradition as a whole the principal set of opposites in all spheres is that of being and becoming. This has its beginning in Parmenides, but it receives its chief impetus from the philosophy of Plato. Then the osites of being and becoming collect around themselves still other sets of opposites, one and many, unchangeable and changeable, and so on. Nowhere is this more evident than in the dialectic of Plotinus, in which one or another set of contraries is constantly being applied to a higher and a lower level of perfection within his hierarchy. These contraries are very often employed by him to differentiate various forms of life, a term which is used on all levels as synonymous with perfection. This flexible use of "life" is found also in Gregory of Nyssa and in others, and it gives their employment of contraries a whole new set of associations that are not found in philosophers who

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speak merely of various levels of being. At the same time in the Christian philosophers this attention to "life" is focused more and more on man and the moral problems he faces during his sojourn on earth. This anthropocentrism affects the use of the traditional contraries in such a way that the opposition is frequently limited to God and man as the two levels of life which are most relevant; and the Platonic statement from the Theaetetus (176B) that man should try to become like God by becoming just and holy and wise is constantly reaffirmed and reinterpreted within a Christian context.67


The contrast between human corruptibility and the divine incorruptibility is, therefore, by no means new in Augustine. He applies it, however, to himself in a concrete and personal way that had never been seen before. Thig is especially true of the Confessions, which shows everywhere a tendency to, self-analysis and introspection, since it recounts Augustine's inner pilgrimage and above all his struggles, both practical and speculative, with - the problem of evil. Within this context, though the physical universe is by no means excluded, it is Augustine himself who is placed at the center of the realm of becoming, and that which chiefly characterizes this realm for him is, not the more objective change and flux of a Heraclitus, and not even the moral changes that constitute the general problem of human salvation for a Gregory, but the changes in bis own life that lead to his own sin and moral corruption. However much he has noted this corruption in the Manichaeans and others, these personal changes of his are becoming for Augustine. Since

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his own corruptibility is equated with becoming, it is natural that the divine incorruptibility should be equated with being. Have we not here a moral counterpart to the Timaeus of Plato? Instead of the cosmic opposition of being and becoming we are given the opposition, equally cosmic but in a moral universe, of the incorruptible and the corruptible. Instead of an imitation of being by the world of becoming that depends entirely on the activity of a divine craftsman we are given an imitation, or a hoped-for imitation, of the incorruptible by the corruptible that depends in large measure-and this is the chief difference-on the free choice and cooperation of the corruptible itself. Just as Plato employs the phenomena of the physical world to create a dialectical universe in which reason bends the blind forces of necessity to its own purposes, so Augustine applies his dialectic to the events of his personal life to create a moral universe in which he, under the providence of God, brings the blind forces within his own nature under the control of reason. Within this universe, just as his own corruptibility is becoming, so incorruptibility is being. It is the standard by which his actions are seen to be wanting and the ideal towards which he is or should be striving. But the incorruptible, he also perceived in some way, is the cause of the corruptible, and this offered a special problem of its own. Some philosophers have found an "ontological scandal," as it has been called, in the very existence of becoming in the face of being. So Augustine, like many another, found a moral scandal in the existence of the corruptible when he knew that incorruptibility exists.

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But if incorruptibility is being in the moral universe of Augustine, it is also God. As we may say of certain types of person that for them money or honor or something similar is their God, so for Augustine, within his moral universe, incorruptibility is God, and not just in a rhetorical sense, however fond we know he was of rhetoric. Lest this seem a strange expression, we should recall that for Augustine there are no accidents in God, but everything is substance or essence. Incorruptibility-though it be negative as we think it-is therefore substantial, just as are goodness, intelligence, and so on, and we must not think, as Augustine often warns us, that God is a subject in whom various accidents have their existence. However much some might be inclined to think, as Aquinas does, that being is the name'applied most appropriately to God,68 this would be to overlook the dialectical scheme Augustine has fashioned in the Confessions, based as this is, not on any abstract consideration of the nature of God, but on the conviction of a man. torn apart by year&-of struggle and amidst it all attempting to understand himself and the meaning of that struggle. Within the very vivid and concrete consciousness that he had from day to day and year to year of his own corruptibility the conviction that incorruptibility exists was a source of perplexity and frustration; but without this conviction he would have been without hope. Therefore, though he uses the conventional style of predication in saying that God is incorruptible, the sense of his argumentation may be expressed b. v saying that for him incorruptibility exists and it is given the name of God. A kind of analogy to

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this may be found in other philosophers who argue to God's existence, as in the five ways Thomas Aquinas employs to prove God's existence. He proves that there is a prime mover and adds that all men understand this to be God; and to the proofs that there is a first efflcient cause, and so on, he makes similar additions.69 So for Augustine, though his method of proof is, of course, not the a posteriori one of Aquinas, the existence of incorru tibility is proved within the moral universe of search and suffering, and this is called by the name of God.


9. The "Ontological" Character of Augustine's Argument


If there is any truth in this, I should like, to go one step further. I have already suggested that Anselm was in some sense dependent on Augustine-though unconsciously so-for both the form and the content of his ontological argument, as well as for its terminology, but that he found the form and the content separately in the works of his master. Certainly it was Anselm's introduction of existence into the framework of the argument that gave rise to the name later applied to it and likewise to the controversies attending it. (Though Anselm's argument was attacked immediately by the monk Gaunilo, there is no record that Augustine's argument was ever so treated. ) But if the argument proposed by Augustine did not prove to his satisfaction the existence of an incorruptible s ubstance called God, of what value was it to him? And if it proved God's existence from our conception

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of Him as the best possible being, is there any reason, apart from one of convention, why we should withhold the name "ontological" from it? (It goes without saying that the name we give the argument has nothing to do with our accepting or rejecting it, since even the opponents of Anselm's argument may call it 61 ontological. ") We should not think, for example, that Augustine is merely declaring that a God whose existence he has already proved is to be given the attribute of incorruptibility. There is no indication that this argument is dependent on any other, and indeed such a view would be imposing on Augustine something like the Thomistic method, whereby a perfaction like incorruptibility is attributed to God only after His existence has been proved. The existence of incorruptibility, which, since it is taken in a substantial sense, is identical with God, is the goal of tbig single argument, and it is not intended to depend on any other, just as Anselm in his preface indicates is true of his argument.70 The use of the term "incorruptibility" instead of "being" or "existence" should not rule out the name "ontological," since incorruptibility is the existence that Augustine arrives at by reasoning within his moral universe out of the depths of the human situation in which he is immersed. In these days one would even be tempted to add that an argument having such an origin as this is more deserving of the name "ontological," if this may mean "existential," than one that is so abstract as that of Anselm, lacking as it does the clear-cut marks of the human condition that characterize the argument of Augustine.71


One might even venture to suggest that, while it is

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easy to think that Anselm's argument, because of its explicitness and abstractness, is a more fully developed and therefore a more perfect version of Augustine's, we may also look on it in another way. By its very abstractness has it not also lost some of the power that is found in the more concrete argument of Augustine? Even without Anselm's own description of how his argument originated we can think of Augustine's argument as lying in a half active, half dormant state within Anselm's spirit for a long time. But when it finally emerges into the light of day it has left behind the elements that make Augustine's argument really "existential," because it has been filtered through a mind that is relatively untouchedas far as our evidence goes-by temptation and moral upheaval.


Since the two arguments, as is clear from the entire tradition to which they belong, cannot be understo od in isolation from the whole manner and spirit of philosophizing that produced them, Gaunilo's piecemeal objection to the argument of Anselm must be considered largely irrelevant. To grant existence, for example, to an island surpassing all existing lands in perfection is not the same thing at all for Anselm or Augustine or Parmenides as granting it to the greatest conceivable being, which is the highest object of human thought.72 The objection of Gaunilo illustrates the temptation and the danger of selecting an individual philosophical doctrine for criticism. Such a criticism may call attention to unanswered questions and unresolved problems in a given philosophical approach, or especially to the fact that its view of

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re ality is necessarily a partial one. But. it overlooks the integral nature of a well-constructed philosophy and the likelihood that any individual doctrine will stand or fall with the whole approach to which it belongs. Gilson, in one of his many perceptive discussions of Augustine's method, remarks that it opens the way for Anselm's metaphysical speculations, which seek to discover the existence of God in the very idea we have of Him. He adds-possibly not having in mind the passage from the Confessions-that, while Augustine does not develop the proof of Anselm himself, he is certainly proceeding in a direction that in the normal course of events leads to that proof.73 As Gilson suggests, there was a certain inevitability that after an Augustine an Anselm or Anselms would sometime come: along. And it was just as inevitable that there would be others to oppose them. For every Anselm, like Bonaventure and Descartes, who steps on the stage, there is a Gaunilo, like Aquinas or Kant, lurking in the wings, and there is no reason to believe that this will not always be so.


We should understand that it is not our task here to inquire into all the subtleties of Anselm's argumentation, but to see only how it could have developed out of that which Augustine employs in the Confessions, and how indeed the argument of Augustine may in a very genuine sense be called ontological. Gilson has said that the argument of the Proslogion cannot properly be understood except in the epistemological atmosphere of Anselm's treatise On truth.74 . Whether everyone would agree with him in this or not, we can surely say that an examination of the atmosphere

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which surrounds a philosophical work may give us highly relevant information about the precise meanings and associations of the terms the philosopher employs and about his characteristic method of philosophizing. But in our study of philosophical atmosphere is it not also profitable to go beyond the works of the philosopher himself and examine his position in relation to his predecessors and even his successors? Proceeding in this spirit we have seen, I think, how the argument for God's existence that we call ontological not only follows in a direct line from an argument of Augustine, but indeed may in a very real sense be considered his discovery.


II. The Flight of the Soul


1. The Divine Origin of the Soul in Greek Thought to Plotinus


When Augustine states, in propounding his version of the ontological argument, that no soul (anima) has the power to think of something which is better than God, we might suppose that "soul" is used here as equivalent either to "mind," which indeed recurs in the argument of Anselm, or even to "person," especially since he says a few lines later that he could have reached in his thought something that was better than God, if God were not incorruptible. Yet in so doing we would be overlooking the associations attached to "soul" in Augustine himself and in a long-standing tradition. There exists, in fact, a close parallel in the development of the notions of God and of soul in

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western thought. We are told by a sceptic of the second century after Christ, Sextus Empiricus, that Aristotle traced men's thought about the gods back to two sources, phenomena of the soul [Greek text ...] and of the heavens; for, regarding the soul, when it is separated from the body in sleep or at the moment of death it assumes its true nature and foresees the future, as we see in Homer. For these reasons men came to suspect that something divine existed, something that was like [Greek text ...] the soul and of all thins the most knowing. 75


Though we may wonder how much of Aristotle's actual language survives in the paraphrase of Sextus, the fact is that a certain kinship of the human soul to God or to the divine is evident at an early point in Greek speculation. Quite different from the Homeric soul, which on the death of the man goes off to a shadowy existence in the underworld, is the soul believed in by the adherents of the so-called Orphic mystery-religion-the assignment of the name "Orphic" is often uncertain-as early as iffe sixth century before Christ. Though the evidence for this religion is of a later date -- some of it much later -- and not entirely consistent, it indicates with some probability that the soul for the Orphics is godlike in its essential nature, but that it was obliged to leave its divine abode because of some transgression and descend to earth, where it inhabits a succession of bodies, human and otherwise, until by its suffering in the "wheel of birth" it has expiated its primeval sin. The Orphic religion offered the initiate a means of escaping from the "wheel of birth" through its rites of purification, so that his soul could return

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more directly to its rightful home.76 A fragment from the fifth-century lyric poet Pindar offers the earliest statement of this new view of the nature of the soul. He says that, while the body of every man is subject to overpowering death, a living image [Greek text ...] of life survives, since it alone comes from the gods. It sleeps while the limbs are active, but to those who are asleep it reveals in many a dream the joys and sorrows that are to come.77 Many beliefs and practices similar to those of the Orphics were adopted by the Pythagoreans of southern Italy and joined with their philosophical and scientific studies to form a special "way of life," in which great stress was laid on the purification of the soul. Empedocles likewise, alongside his poem On nature, has set forth in the Purifications, also in poetic form, how the "spirit" or "demigod" [Greek text ...] has defiled itself and been banished from the seats of the blessed to wander for thrice ten thousand years and be born in the course of time inIs I all kinds of shapes of mortal things. "Of their number," he says, "I too am now one, an exile from the gods and a wanderer."78


But it is Plato who utilizes this kind of religious tradition in such a way that it makes its greatest contribution to philosophy. In many places, for example in the myth of the Phaedrus, he presents a similar view of the soul's nature, its origin and its destiny, but always carefully adapted to serve his own purposes. Man cannot be looked on in the mechanistic way of the atomists, but must be thought to possess within himself a principle of human personality which is more truly himself than the body is. This principle,

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for which he takes over the name of "soul," being influenced doubtless in so doing by the usefulness he found in the religious conception of the soul, makes man a moral agent responsible in some measure for his own fate, and it must be given the most careful attention by him throughout his life. The type of purification of the soul that Plato himself has in mind may be illustrated by the passage from the Theaetetus ( 176A-B) already referred to: Since evils cannot exist among the gods, but hover always around mortal nature and this earth, we should try to flee from here to there as quickly as possible; this flight consists in becoming like God as far as we can, and to become like Him is to become just and holy and wise. This kind of moral exhortation- underlies the Platonic use of the Orphic 'or another religious psychology and eschatology, which there is no reason for taking literally, whether expressed by Plato in an@obvious myth or otherwise. If one takes it literally, in whole or in part, then it is easy to. construct "the religion of Plato," though this is likely to be at the expense of Plato's philosophy and his sense of philosophical method. The words placed by Plato in Socrates' mouth in these matters may even be sceptical: The doctrine of the mysteries that men are in a kind of prison and must not try to escape is not easy for him to understand (Phaedo 62B); to maintain that the stories of the after-life are just as he has recounted them would not be fitting for a man of good sense (Phaedo 114D).79 But one can still say that the philosopher practices for death all his life (Phaedo 64A), and by the philosophical import of this Plato indicates that, like the

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Pythagoreans, he has in his own way made philosophy a way of life."80


Whatever we may think, however, of the employment of the Orphic or other mythology by Plato, the important point for us is that in later Platonism the so-called religious element in Plato is very important, though it may be used more literally than was true for Plato, and, in any case, it may serve to elucidate and communicate philosophical doctrines that are different from his. As an example of this we may look at a passage from Plotinus' treatise On the beautiful (1. 6), a work that has had a very wide influence in subsequent philosophy and literature down to our own time. The discussion of beauty leads-quite naturally for Plotinus-to the question of the beauty of the soul, and this, he tells us, consists in the soul's emancipation from the passions (1. 6. 5). There is an ancient teaching that every virtue, including even wisdom, is a form of purification, he says, and he goes on to show how several virtues may be explained as different ways in which the soul is lifted above bodily concerns. In short, one may say that as the soul becomes good and beautiful it becomes like God (1. 6. 6). We should make the greatest effort, therefore, lest we be deprived of the vision of the beautiful, for which one should be ready to renounce all earthly power and glory (1. 6. 7). Coming now to the crucial point of his discourse, he asks in what manner [Greek text ...] or by what device [Greek text ...] one may achieve the vision of this inaccessible [Greek text ...] beauty, which remains 77X within its sacred precincts and does not come out for all, even the profane, to gaze upon. (This is one of the

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many allusions Plotinus makes in this treatise to the mysteries. ) Let him who is able search for it within leaving outside the vision of his bodily eyes. Let our flight be to our beloved fatherland, he exclaims) employing an expression from Homer, a flight like that made by Odysseus from the enchantress Circe or from Calypso, despite all their brandishments. Oulfatherland is there whence we have come, and oul' father too is there. But what form of travel can ouiflight take? We cannot rely on our feet, which take us from one place to another; nor is there any need to make ready a carriage drawn by horses or a sailin" vessel. We must dispense with all these and close our eyes, waking in ourselves another kind of seeing [Greek text ...], which all men possess but few men employ ( I - 6. 8).81 We must withdraw into ourselves and see where we are lacking in beauty within, and then rid ourselves of every imperfection. When we have done this and become pure vision itself, then, with no further need for a guide, we gaze intently and see. For this is the only eye that looks. ppon the real beauty (I. 6. 9).


2. The Flight of the Soul in Augustine


In 1934 Father Henry, who initiated this series of lectures five years ago,82 pointed out in a pioneering work, which is still of great value, that Augustine in a number of places follows closely some of the ideas and even terminology used in this treatise of Plotinus. Among these is a passage in the eighth book of the Confessions which discusses the flight of the soul in imitation of Plotinus but with some notable differ-

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ences. Augustine, for example, omits the reference to Odysseus as a symbol of the soul's flight from this world, and, after dispensing with the ordinary modes of travel for this kind of flight, just as Plotinus does, he introduces the faculty of will (voluntas) where the problem for Plotinus was one of seeing [Greek text ...].83 We must indeed agree with Father Henry's emphasis on the importance of the will for Augustine; in the sentence in question it is repeated in such a way that there can be no room for misunderstanding. For in regard to the goal he was seeking, he tells us of the scene in the garden, to go in that direction and even to arrive there required only that he have the will to go, but a will that was vigorous and whole, not what was in fact a half-wounded will, tossing this way and that, divided in the struggle of one part with another.


In the course of time researches continued on the relation of Augustine to Plotinus and other predecessors, and in 1950 Courcelle, who has on many occasions illuminated the text of Augustine with his careful studies, pointed out that not only in the eighth but also in the first book of the Confessions Augustine employs the Plotinian passage regarding the flight of the soul. He had also discovered that the two passages from the Confessions and others as well in Augustine show a close similarity to some sermons of Ambrose for which Plotinus was clearly a model, and he came to the conclusion that Augustine in his early reading of Plotinus read him in the light of Ambrose's paraphrase. With regard to Augustine's omission of any reference to Odysseus, Courcelle finds this true also of Ambrose's treatment of the Plotinian passage

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in his sermon On Isaac or the soul, which Augustine may have heard in 386; but in the first book of the Confessions he notes that Augustine adapts the passage of Plotinus to the parable of the prodigal son.84 What we might add is that Augustine's discussion of the problem he found in his own will is not in his Ambrosian model any more than it is in Plotinus. Ambrose, followine, the lead of Plotinus, says that the flight cannot be made on foot, and so on, but should be made with the mind and indeed, he adds ratlier quaintly, with the inner eyes or feet. Where Augustine says that his will should be vigorous and whole (velle fortiter et integre), Ambrose applies similar words to seeing (sanus et vigens oculus), just as Plotinus does;85 and in the whole passage of Ambrose, which abounds in allusions to vision, there is not one mention of the will.86


From all this it might seem that Augustine, despite any indebtedness he may have to Plotinus and Ambrose, is original in two respects: He substitutes the prodigal son for Odysseus, the fabled wanderer of 87 pagan literature, and he replaces seeing the good or the beautiful with willing it. These two points, in fact, could easily be understood as specifically Augustinian contributions to the now old tradition of the soul's flight. Augustine's fondness for the parable of the prodigal son, allusions to which are scattered through the Confessions, is readily explained by the events of his life as they are recounted in this work; and the reason in large measure for these experiences of his was not any deficiency of knowing, as he analyzed his own inner life, but one of willing. It is very difficult,

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however, to ascribe originality to someone in matters of this kind, since we can never be sure of many of the elements involved in his intellectual and moral history, even when he reports them to us with the studiousness of an Augustine. In this instance I should like to suggest that Augustine is not the first to interject the parable of the prodigal son or the problem of the will into a discussion of the flight of the soul, and he is not original in this respect, at least in the way in which originality mi, t commonly be understood. On both of these points he has been anticipated by Gregory of Nyssa.


3. The Flight of the Soul in Gregory of Nyssa.


In a series of homilies On the Lord's Prayer, written at an unknown date but perhaps not many years before Augustine wrote the Confessions, Gregory, discoursing on the words, "Our Father, who art in heaven," discusses at some length the parable of the prodigal son both literally and in a figurative way. Just as in the parable, he says, it is the return of the son to the paternal hearth that occasions the benevolence of the father, so the Lord's P ayer, when it teaches us that the Father in heaven is called upon, seems to be11 reminding us of our beloved fatherland and to set u son the road that leads back to that fatherland. But the road leading human nature to heaven is nothing else than a flight from the evils of this earth, and the only means of making this flight is to become like God, which is to become just and holy and good. If anyone impresses these virtues clearly upon himself, as far as this is possible, then he will change effortlessly and

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spontaneously from an earthly to a heavenly existence. For the distance from the human to the divine is not one of space, so as to require some device by which to transfer this heavy and earthy flesh to an immaterial and spiritual manner of life. But rather, since the distance between virtue and vice is an intelligible one, it lies in man's will alone to take him to any place to which his desire is directed. Since there is no toil attached to choosing the good, and the choice leads at once to the attainment of what was chosen, it lies in our power to be in heaven immediately by holding God in our thought. When we are bidden, therefore, to call God our Father, this is nothing else than a command to become like our heavenly Father through a God-befitting mode of life.88


This last sentence of Gregory is a good example of the way in which Greek philosophical doctrines were employed to interpret the scriptural legacy of Christianity. There was nothing more natural to someone with his thorouih training in Greek philosophy than to use the teachings which had become second nature to him to analyze the text of a scriptural passage like the Lord's Prayer and find there implications that are not at all obvious at first glance; and the same could be said of Augustine. Here Gregory is making use of the flight from the evils of this earth set forth in Plato's Theaetetus, the flight that consists in becoming like God, that is to say, in acquiring the various virtues that are enumerated; and the recollection that the prayer arouses in us likewise has a Platonic basis. But it is clear that all this comes to Gregory more immediately from Plotinus. There is the return to the father-

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land, a characteristically Plotinian expression (thoug h "fatherland" in a similar sense appears in Hebrews I 1. 14). The flight we are speaking of is not in any way spatial, so that we do not have t find any device 0 [Greek text ...] by which to accomplish it. As a result Gregory tends to look at the flight, at least in part, in the intellectual manner of Plotinus. We have only to grasp God in our thought in order to be spontaneously and without further effort transported to heaven. Yet there is more for Gregory than the intellect involved in this thought. There is an act of will, a choice to be made [Greek text ...], and it lies within our power Lp [Greek text ...] whether our thought will take us heavenward or leave us amid the evils of the world.


Gregory therefore introduces will or choice into the traditional flight of the soul, a notion that is absent from the corresponding passages of Plotinus and Ambrose, but turns up later in Augustine. It should be noted, however, that the element of will is not entirely lacking in Plotinus, as when he says elsewhere (5. . 5. 12) that the Good is present as one wills it to be [Greek text ...]. What a difference there is, however, between their conception of will, whose choice of the good is followed at once by the attainment of it, and will as seen by Augustine, which has experienced the constant frustration of its choice because it could not come to a satisfactory agreement within itself as to what that choice should be! Now it would be unfair both to Gregory and to Plotinus to leave the impression that life for them is completely without difficulty and struggle. Both of them insist elsewhere that toil [Greek text ...] is necessary for the acquisition of virtue,89 and

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it is this, after all, that constitutes the flight of the soul clh for them, as it does earlier for Plato. One must admit, on the one hand, that there is considerable basis for the statements of Father Henry when he contrasts the proud rationalism of Plotinus, who has only to close his eyes to the outside world and awaken a sleeping power within himself, and the almost anguished Christianity of Augustine, who must bend his will under the yoke, and break the resistance of a nature that is wounded and divided against itself before he can win the struggle.90 Yet, on the other hand, if we look at the larger picture presented by Plotinus, there are indications that he was not unaware of the serious problems involved in moral progress; and this is even truer of Gregory. But the fact is that in presenting their; versions of the flight of the soul, whether this is understood as seeing or as willing, they have not touched on the real difficulties as an t an isolated Augustine would see them. This is no instance in their philosophies, since they do not offer anywhere his kind of approach to the role played by the will in spiritual progress. But that is in itself a large topic that we cannot take into account here.


4. Development within Augustine's Thought


A word might be said of the difference to be found the soul at in Augustine's treatment of the flight 0 various periods of his life. In an early work, the Soliloquies, written about the time of his baptism, he says that there is more than one road (via) to wisdom the Retractations 1. 4. 37 (a view that he corrects in

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where he states that there is only one way, since Christ has said, "I am the way."). Each person is able, he says, to take hold of wisdom according to his own health and vigor (sanitate ac firmitate), and, describing it as a kind of light, he goes on to speak of it in terms of sight and the sun (1. 13. 23). We should flee utterly from sensible things;91 we have need of wings that are whole and perfect (integris perfectisque) in order to fly92 to that light out of the darkness in which we now live (l. 14. 24). Just as the bodily eye cannot look upon the sun unless it is healthy (sanus), so it is with the soul, which is often deceived recarding its own health ( 1. 14. 25 ). This intellectual interpretation of the soul's flight is found also in the work Against the Academics, written in the same period. The soul, he says, expects to overcome all deception and, by grasping the truth and returning, as it were, to its place of origin (quasi in regionem suae originis rediens), to triumph over the passions; it expects thus that by espousing temperance it will be the ruler, and it is less concerned about its return to heaven (securior. rediturus in coelum) (2. 9. 22).93 (In the Retractations 1. 1. 3 Augustine says that it would have been safer to speak of going (iturus) than of returning (rediturus) to heaven, since in this way he would not have given the impression of accepting the doctrine that the soul, having fallen or been cast down from heaven because of its sins, has been thrust into the body.)94


In the first book of his work On Christian doctrine, written about ten years later, we see a shift from this highly intellectual approach to the flight of the soul. Speaking of those who ask how one knows that the

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unchangeably wise life is to be placed ahead of that which is changeable, he says that the one who does not see this is like the blind man in the full light of the sun, while the one who sees the answer to this question but runs away from it has a spiritual vision that has been blunted by the continued presence of shadows arising from the flesh. Men are therefore driven away from their very fatherland by what we might call the contrary winds of corrupt habits; they pursue the lower though they recognize that there is If one is going to enjoy something higher (1. 9. 9). the unchanging truth, the soul must be purified so as to be able to see that light and, once seen, cleave to it. This purification should be thought of as a kind of walking or sailing toward the fatherland; to Him who is everywhere present we do not move by change of place, but by good inclination (studio) and good habits (1. 10. 10).95 Here Augustine, though retaining a basically intellectual interpretation of the soul's flight, sets clearly apart, those men who see the light but abandon it. He recognizes that through moral what he knows to be depravity a man may pursue inferior, and that to move toward the fatherland is a matter of inclination and character. This tendency toward a moral interpretation of the soul's flight points to the Confessions, written probably not much later, that the problem of the and it is in the Confessions will comes to the fore.


Finally, we may look at two passages written at a still later date. In the first of these (Enarr. in Ps. CXLIX 5) Augustine says that the fatherland is to be roached through love, not with bodily feet. Ships app

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are not required, but the two wings of charity, namely, love of God and love of neighbor. This definitely non-intellectual interpretation of the flight of the soul adopted by Augustine in his maturity is supplemented by a passage from the City of God (9. 17), in which Plotinus is quoted by name. We must flee, then, says Augustine, to the most beloved fatherland. There is the Father, and there is everything. What kind of fleet (classis) can we employ, what means of flight (fuga)? To become like God. Augustine goes on to say that the only distance from God is unlikeness to Him, and the soul is more unlike the eternal and the unchangeable the more it seeks after temporal and changing things. To heal this illness-since the mortal and impure found in the lowest cannot fittingly belong (convenire non possunt) to the immortal purity that is in the highest-there is need of a mediator. This mediator cannot have a diseased mind such as belongs to those on the lowest level, for then he would through envy begrudge our being healed instead of helping us to be healed. But he must, by the immortal justice of the spirit, through which he remains on the highest level-not by spatial distance (locorum distantia), but by the excellence of likeness-offer truly divine aid for our purification and liberation.


From the period of the Soliloquies and Against the Academics to that of the work On Christian doctrine and especially the Confessions there is a definite change to be observed in Augustine's treatment of the flight of the soul. His earliest interpretation is set forth in the intellectual terms favored by Plotinus and Ambrose, but the later one turns from the conception

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of the flight as a vision to a consideration of the will's function in making the joumey. We cannot easily think that the reason for the change in Augustine's attitude lay primarily in the events themselves which he. interprets for us in the Confessions, since these events, at least those that are relevant, had already taken place when he wrote the two earlier works. The reason is rather to be sought in the mental development that occurred in the intervening time, as a result of which he came to apply the theme of the flight in a very personal way to his own life, and especially to the problems, which he analyzed with great care and clarity, of his will. In this process was Augustine aided inspired by anything he read or heard of during or these years? If we are guided by his earlier treatment of the flight, and, by what w'e know of his method of writing in general, it is easy to believe that there were various influences operating in his life which he used in his own way. The passage of Grego . ry discussed above offers itself as one possibility-even though at this moment there is no-historical evidence that Augustin& had any contact with it-since it brings together in a very natural way a number of features that turn up in Augustine's later handling of the flight of the soul.


5. Augustine and Gregory of Nyssa Compared


Most noteworthy perhaps of these is the employment, in the first book of the Confessions ( 1. 18. 28), of the parable of the prodigal son in connection with

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the ancient theme. The entrance of the prodigal son into Gregory's exegesis of the Lord's Prayer is most appropriate, since the words uttered by the wayward youth regarding his sin against heaven and against his father have a ready association with the opening of the prayer, and both of these in turn suggest the traditional fatherland and the return that consists in becoming like God. A conception like that of the prodigal son is found also in Plotinus,96 and it is not unlikely that Gregory's acquaintance with Plotinus suggested to him the use of the scriptural counterpart. In Augustine, on the other hand, the Plotinian theme of the flight is employed to express, not the return to God, but his distance from God at the time; and there are other notions from the same passage of Plotinus in the preceding context of Augustine: the bottomless abyss (inmanissimo profundo) and the darkness of ignoble desire (affectu tenebroso). The prodigal son enters only in the midst of the enumeration of the possible ways of approaching or leaving God. Having said that not on foot or by any spatial distance does anyone leave God or return to Him, he adds that the prodigal son (filius ille tuns minor) did not seek horses, and so on, for his departure. Augustine has not so much adapted the theme of flight to the parable of the prodigal son, as Courcelle describes it,97 as he has fitted the prodigal son into the flight, making him the substitute for Odysseus. Now such a substitution would not be very difficult for a Christian writer Of some imagination. But the fact is that an association between the prodigal son and the flight of the soul had already been made by at least one predecessor of

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Augustine, and in a way, one might add, that arises most naturally out of the whole context. In Augustine, on the other hand, there seems to be no strong motivation of an intrinsic nature for the introduction of the prodigal son at this particular place. In fact, his arrival on the scene is abrupt and his presence rather casual. The earthly father is not mentioned because he is merged with the heavenly Father, who is addressed by Augustine as the kind Father who had been generous to the youth on his setting out and a kinder Father when he returned in his hour of need. This easy merging of the two fathers suggests that Augustine has in mind a passage, such as that of Gregory, in w ich the merging is more careful and deliberate, one in which the kindness of the father on the return of the son is emphasized, as indeed it is at some length in Gregory.


One further point is worth mentioning in this passage of Augustine. When he says that the departure from God and the return to Him are not by any spatial distances (spatiis locoium), he is using an expression that does not have a close equivalent in any passage of Plotinus involving the flight of the soul. There ar e, to be sure, other ways in which Plotinus can in dicate this. In the treatise we have been discussing the very dismissal of the ordinary forms of travel indicates that no spatial separation is involved (1. 6. 8); and in the following chapter he states that the true light has no magnitude [Greek text ...] - He makes a more explicit statement in another treatise (1. 8. 7), where 1. ii. 4 he is interpreting the Platonic flight of the soul. Plato says, according to Plotinus, that the flight is not spa-