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LITERATURE AND WRITING STUDIES rHESrs rrrlE: Translation & Analysis of Two Fragments by Pietro Pomponazzi

AUTHoR: Jay C. Greene

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Translation and Analyis of Two Fragments by Pietro Pomponazzi:

Utrum definitio animae sit bene assignata & Utrum anima rationalis sit forma substantialis

Jay C. Greene

Spring 2013

Prefatory Remark

At times throughout this project, the word “man” is used to refer to humankind, as in the chapter which includes a discussion of “the Renaissance Philosophy of Man.” The usage of the word “man” in this way can carry a gendered, potentially sexist, connotation, especially in the

21st century. I use this term here, fully conscious of the potential implications, yet by no means with a sexist intention, attempting to draw upon the traditional usage and terminology inherent to the centuries-old historical and philosophical conversation into which I am entering. Generally speaking, I have restricted the use of the word “man” to only include reference to the species as a whole (as in “man’s destiny”), while avoiding its use in cases where the entirely gendered pronouns “he” or “his” would also be used (as in “man and his destiny”), favoring instead a more gender-neutral term like “humanity.” Kristine – Your unfailing support and encouragement in this undertaking, as in life, is more than I can describe in any language.

Subsidium et hortatus perpetuus quod dedisti per hoc inceptum, atque per vitam, plus quam possum dicere in ulla lingua.

Table of Contents

Introduction 1

I – Humanism, Scholasticsm, & the Renaissance Philosophy of Man 9

II – The Aristotelian Tradition 27

Translator’s Note 63

III – Translation of Fragments

Utrum definitio animae sit bene assignata? 66

Utrum anima rationalis sit forma substantialis? 76

IV – Explication and Analysis 94

Glossary 114

Works Cited 116

1

Introduction

In 1516, at the height of the Italian Renaissance, Pietro Pomponazzi, Professor of Natural

Philosophy at Bologna, published a bold, concise work entitled Tractatus de immortalitate animae [Treatise on the Immortality of the Soul]. In it, he argued that Aristotle, logic, and experience all demonstrate the absolute mortality of the human soul. Its publication caused a firestorm of controversy; copies of his treatise were even burned in Venice as heretical. The specific reason for this controversy, which I will examine at length in a subsequent chapter, is the key to understanding the historical and philosophical importance of Pietro Pomponazzi. His name is perhaps not as much a household name as some of the other key figures of the

Renaissance period (i.e. da Vinci, Petrarch, Montaigne, Erasmus, Copernicus), but the transitional role he plays in the progression of philosophical thought is by no means minor.

Andrew Halliday Douglass says it well when he notes that “Pomponazzi may be called one of the earliest of the moderns; but it is even more instructive to observe that he was one of the last of the [scholastics].”1

Pomponazzi’s argument about the soul’s mortality, while meticulous, complex, and saddled with the sometimes bewildering technical jargon inherited from centuries of Aristotelian medieval scholasticism, can be somewhat simply stated. Aristotle and the Peripatetics who follow his teachings consider the soul to be the governing principal of animal life—the force animating, uniting, and bringing into actuality all the various powers of the physical body.2 In

Aristotle’s words, “The soul is the first actuality of a natural body having in it the capacity of

1 Andrew Halliday Douglas, The Philosophy and Psychology of Pietro Pomponazzi, p. 4. 2 “...the soul is in some sense the principle of animal life.” Aristotle, De anima, I.i.420a. 2

life,” by which he means one “furnished with organs.”3 Of the soul’s three distinct grades or

functions—the vegetative (that which allows an organism to take in nutriment and reproduce),

the sensitive (that which allows an organism to sense its environment and to react to it), and the

rational (that which separates humans from other creatures, bestowing the capacity for

intellection)—there is universal agreement that the first two grades, the vegetative and sensitive,

are purely physical in nature and hence mortal, perishing with the death of the organs and bodily

functions of which they are the actualities.4 Modern philosopher Mortimer J. Adler summarizes the matter quite succinctly:

...the word 'soul' was used to signify whatever it was in living organisms that

made them alive… In addition to endowing man with all the vital powers

possessed by plants and other animals, the human soul gives man his distinctive

power—that of the intellect… The word 'soul' and the word 'mind' are not

coextensive in their connotations. According to [Aristotelian] doctrine, all living

organisms had souls, but not all have minds.5

Given the accepted mortality of the vegetative and sensitive souls, the question of

immortality, then, boils down exclusively to the question of the nature of the intellect, or rational

soul—the anima rationalis—which Aristotle asserts is not the act [actus], or form [forma], of

any particular matter [materia], and is thus separable and by extension potentially imperishable.6

Pomponazzi, with characteristic incisiveness, reduces a complex metaphysical conundrum to a

simple set of conditions: “[I enquire] whether the soul be mortal or no; and it first must be asked

3 Ibid., II.i.412b. 4 “The soul...cannot be separated from the body, for there are cases where actuality belongs to the parts themselves. There is, however, no reason why some parts [of the soul] should not be separated, if they are not the actualities of any body whatever.” Aristotle, De anima, II.i.413a. 5 Intellect: Mind Over Matter, p.10. 6 De anima, I.iv.408b and III.iv.429b. 3

whether it be material; for if it be material, it is mortal; if it be immaterial, it is immortal.”7 In other words, if it can be shown that the anima rationalis is organic, or at the very least dependent on or united to organic functions, then the mortality of the soul can be rationally demonstrated.

This materiality or immateriality of the soul—particularly the rational soul—is the crux of the immortality question. Even the 20th century Adler, discussing the conditions for any hope of the soul’s immortality, argues that, “if there is any philosophical argument to lend some credibility to the dogma of the immortality of the soul, it lies in the spirituality—that is, the immateriality—

of the intellect."8 The overarching contention of Pomponazzi’s argument, and in sum, his very

historical significance, is precisely an attempt to prove the mortality of the human soul, logically

derived from the empirical, observable nature of the intellect. This methodology would be

expected from a natural philosopher like Pomponazzi, since, as Clarence Schute states,

“concrete, particular, whole things are the starting point for the investigations of the natural

philosopher,”9 however because of the sometimes wild metaphysical speculation that had

become the fashion under the reigning Averroistic interpretation of Aristotelianism,

Pomponazzi’s return to the basics appeared nothing short of revolutionary. More specifically,

Douglas maintains that “Pomponazzi, largely neglecting baseless speculations, concerned

himself with intelligence as it exists in man. Abandoning the search after ‘separate substances,’

at least so far as man is concerned, he examined intelligence as it is actually manifested in

nature.”10

7 “Quaerit Pomponatius utrum anima sit mortalis, vel non; et primum quarendum est utrum sit materialis; si enim est materialis est mortalis, si est immaterialis est immortalis.” Pomponazzi, Commentary on the De Anima, f. 130 r (as qtd. in Douglas, p. 98.) 8Adler, p. 4. 9 Clarence Shute, The Psychology of Aristotle, p. 4. 10 Douglas, p. 5. 4

At this point, I feel it would be instructive to introduce the intent and trajectory of my own particular project. Being not only Pomponazzi’s chief work, but also one of the more interesting philosophical doctrines to come out of the Italian Renaissance, the Tractatus de immortalitate animae has been translated into English and has received some (though certainly not sufficient) scholarly attention, particularly from Ernst Cassirer, Paul Oskar Kristeller, Martin

Pine, Paul Richard Blum, and John Herman Randall Jr. However, what appears to be the only book ever written in English about Pomponazzi specifically, The Philosophy and Psychology of

Pietro Pomponazzi, was written originally in 1910 by Andrew Halliday Douglas, yet was never formally published due to its author’s untimely death. Published posthumously in 1962,

Douglas’ work remains today the only extant English-language full-length work dedicated to the thought of Pomponazzi. However, there exists a vast body of work by Pietro Pomponazzi that remains untranslated, and thus unexamined, by modern scholars. Douglas had this to say on the material:

"His most elaborate philosophical and psychological work remained undiscovered

until 1876, and it is still practically unknown. It is his Commentary on the De

anima of Aristotle. [...] This work of Pomponazzi undoubtedly deserves

somewhat fuller examination than it has yet received. It does not appear to have

been considered in any of even the more recent accounts of Renaissance

Aristotelianism, or of Pomponazzi himself."11

Though this was written in 1910, little to nothing has changed in the last 100 years. So far there seems to have been no effort to bring these fragments to life (in English, at any rate), though the fragments have been compiled and made available on the Internet in their original Latin. It will be my goal in this thesis to take two of these fragments, entitled Utrum definitio animae sit bene

11 Douglass, p. 69. 5

assignata? [On whether the definition of the soul is well assigned] and Utrum anima rationalis

sit forma substantialis? [On whether the rational soul is an essential form], and translate them

into English for the first time. This project seems worthwhile for several reasons.

First, it is important to note that these particular fragments are part of a series of

questions composed by Pomponazzi called Fragmenta super libros De anima Aristotelis, or

Fragments on the Books of Aristotle’s De anima, written between 1514 and 1515. This means

that these fragments represent highly formative ideas that Pomponazzi was sorting through in the

two years directly preceding his publication of the De immortalitate in 1516. It seems to me

important both historically and philosophically to make his ideas from such a crucial moment in

his intellectual progression available to an English-speaking academic audience. Of course,

translating something into English simply because it has not been translated before does not

constitute an academic contribution, unless the material I will have brought into English is of

some value. It will be my goal over the course of this undertaking to make the case that it is.

Second, I would like to help vindicate Pomponazzi’s thought, and rescue it from the generally poor reputation Renaissance philosophy suffers from today. While the Renaissance is widely known as a time of notable advances in the arts—painting, sculpting, writing, playwriting, etc., when it comes to philosophy, the work of Renaissance thinkers has a reputation of being derivative, or even worse, of being pointless—argument for argument’s sake. For example, Jacob Burckhardt, the famous 19th century Renaissance scholar, granted no place to the

topic of philosophy in his seminal work, The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy.12

Renaissance Aristotelian philosophers, like Pomponazzi, in particular have been condemned by most modern scholars. These philosophers have often been labeled as prolix and trifling, “empty squibblers and [...] followers of a dead past who failed to understand the living problems of their

12 Ernst Cassirer, The Individual and the Cosmos in Renaissance Philosophy, trans. Mario Domandi, p. 3. 6 times,”13 whose ideas represent “a medley of inconsistent opinions, combined by a shallow verbal logic over whose ambiguous and undefined terms the professional disputers held futile argument.”14 Moreover, modern scholars who have an unfavorable view of the Middle Ages often see the work of Renaissance Aristotelian philosophers as an unfortunate survival of medieval traditions, which in their estimation can safely be overlooked in favor of the work of the Renaissance humanists like Petrarch, Pico della Mirandolla, and Marsilio Ficino. One should register, however, with some satisfaction, that Kristeller does note that “only a few famous figures such as Pietro Pomponazzi seem to resist the general verdict.”15

Third, the fragments I have chosen to translate, Utrum definitio animae sit bene assignata and Utrum anima rationalis sit forma substantialis, seem particularly important to the analysis of

Pomponazzi’s thought. Arguments of definition, such as the first fragment concerning the definition of the soul, are very important rhetorically speaking. Take, as a modern example, the debate surrounding abortion. One’s perspective on the definition of a fetus, whether it should be defined as a clump of tissue or a human being, will often determine where one stands on the argument as a whole. The second fragment, which seeks to ascertain the nature of the rational or intellective soul, is closely associated with the goal of the first fragment, in that it deals with the nature and operations of the soul, its materiality or immateriality, and by extension its separability or inseparability. As such, the way in which Pomponazzi choses to define the soul, especially in the years just prior to the publication—and subsequent defense—of his Tractatus on the soul, will provide not only a necessary qualification within the ongoing debate of the nature of the soul, but also an interesting window into his thought process and his beliefs at this foundational period in his intellectual life.

13 Paul Oskar Kristeller, Renaissance Thought: The Classic, Scholastic, and Humanist Strains, p. 115. 14 Douglas, p. 61. 15 Ibid., p. 115. 7

I have provided a brief statement of intent and rationale for my project. It seems that to

advance further into Pomponazzi’s argument, or to present the proposed fragments, at this stage would be putting the cart before the horse. In order to fully appreciate the advancement that

Pomponazzi represents in the tradition of his school of philosophy, or simply to grasp the material presented in the fragments, some historical and philosophical context will be in order.

As such, I will now provide a broad, if necessarily cursory, overview of the Renaissance philosophical and cultural milieu of which Pomponazzi was a part, emphasizing the movements of humanism and scholasticism, as well as what might be considered the overall Renaissance philosophy of man. Then, in the next chapter, in order to see exactly how Pomponazzi fits within the continuum of Aristotelian thought, I will look back upon the Averroism and Thomism that Pomponazzi inherited from the Medieval scholastic tradition, and to whose vocabulary and metaphysical models Pomponazzi is largely indebted.

Of course, such a summary discussion of such a vast body of thought and work can never be considered all-inclusive, and such completeness is not within my scope or intention; countless sizeable tomes have been written about the various aspects of Renaissance thought to do just that. In truth, my project proper is the translation of the fragments in question—what comes before serves as the material necessary to access them. What then follows the translation will be

a chapter explicating and analyzing the fragments, explaining their meaning while comparing

Pomponazzi’s thought to that of his predecessors, as well as to his own later finalized thought, as

it is found in his major work of 1516, the Tractatus de immortalitate animae.

At various times throughout history, groups of thinkers have used Pomponazzi as their touchstone or historical mascot, as a figurehead representing rebellious free-thought, scientific empiricism, or even atheism. Even today, the definition of the soul, if such a thing as a soul 8

exists, and whether that soul survives the death of the body remains a relevant philosophical

issue. The current debate over the materiality or immateriality of the human intellect is being led

by the likes of Daniel Dennett and Dean Radin, respectively; while on the frontlines of the

modern war over the existence of the human soul are figures like Deepak Chopra, who argues

that experience and science point toward the immortality of a human soul, and Richard Dawkins,

who argues that experience and science demonstrate precisely the opposite.16

16 For more on the “intellect” debate, see Daniel Dennett’s Consciousness Explained and Dean Radin’s The Conscious Universe. On the “soul” debate, Deepak Chopra’s book Life After Death: The Burden of Proof contains an often-compelling combination of Vedic tradition and quantum physics, while Richard Dawkins’ The God Delusion confidently argues for the hardline rejection of all things spiritual. 9

I

Humanism, Scholasticism, and the Renaissance Philosophy of Man

Humanism

One can hardly throw a stone at the Italian Renaissance without also hitting the term

“humanism.” The two terms are almost inextricably linked, and any survey of the Italian

Renaissance would be remiss without a thorough discussion of humanism. I begin with humanism not necessarily because it was the only philosophy of the day—because it wasn’t—or even because it was the largest—because it may not have been (though it certainly has enjoyed the favor of modern scholars, so its representation in academia seems to me lopsided in their favor). I begin with it because it developed within the Renaissance itself, whereas the other major movement in the Renaissance, scholasticism, which while coexistent with humanism, has its roots in the medieval tradition. I also begin with it because, perhaps more importantly, the humanistic movement, with the definite air of classicism it brought about, is arguably the most pervasive element in all of Renaissance culture.17

In order to fully appreciate what Renaissance humanism is, it is important to understand what it is not. The most important thing to realize is that, humanism, as it was conceived of during the Renaissance (the studia humanitatis), was not a philosophical movement. Kristeller is very explicit on this point: “the Italian humanists on the whole were neither good nor bad philosophers, but no philosophers at all.”18 It is crucial to remove the accretions of vague meaning and connotations that the word “humanism” has accumulated for itself today, where it

17 Cassirer, Kristeller, and Randall, The Renaissance Philosophy of Man, p. 5. 18 Kristeller, p. 100. 10

can mean anything from an appreciation of human achievement to outright atheism.19

Humanism in the Renaissance can simply and expressly be defined as the tendency of the period

roughly between the late 13th and mid-16th centuries to attach the greatest importance to classical

studies, and to consider classical antiquity as the common standard and model by which to guide

all cultural activities.20 Humanism came to represent a clearly defined arena of academic

subjects, namely grammar, rhetoric, history, poetry, and moral philosophy, the study of which

was inspired by Greco-Roman literature, and which occupied a middle ground between being

purely practical studies and purely theoretical studies.21 Furthermore, the study of each of these

subjects was understood to include the reading and interpretation of a common core of standard ancient writers in Latin and, to a lesser extent, in Greek.22 In other words, the humanists were

the teachers and representatives of a very particular branch of learning which at that time was

expanding and in vogue, but which was well limited in the scope of its subject matter.

Humanism, thus, did not represent the entire compendium of learning in the Italian

Renaissance.23

One of humanism’s most reputed contributions to history was the discovery of a large

variety of works from classical Greek and Latin authors unknown or neglected during the Middle

Ages. It is undeniable that humanism is certainly known for the translation, appreciation, and

diffusion of classical texts; however, Charles Nauert is quick to point out that Western

Europeans could have just as easily rediscovered these “lost texts” in the 13th century as they did

in the 15th, due to their extensive contact with the learned, Greek-speaking Byzantine Empire.

19 The motto of the American Humanist Association is “Good Without A God”. The mission statement on their official website is straightforward enough: “Advocating progressive values and equality for humanists, atheists, and freethinkers.” 20 Cassirer et al., p. 3. 21 James Hankins, “Humanism, scholasticism, and Renaissance philosophy”, The Cambridge Companion to Renaissance Philosophy, p. 33. 22 Kristeller, p. 10. 23 Ibid,. p. 111. 11

However, the fact is that they did not ever seize that opportunity. Moreover, the Latin

manuscripts that humanists of the early 15th century took pride in “rediscovering” were all available during the high-medieval period. They were not, however, discovered.24 In the case

of these purportedly lost ancient texts, what is perhaps the most important and overlooked point

is not the availability of ancient books—which were always potentially present—but the change of outlook that made the acquisition of these texts and the mastery of difficult languages worth the trouble.25 It is this change of attitude and intellectual philosophy that defines humanism, and

not simply the actions of its proponents. Less sensational, but perhaps more important, than the

“discovery” of these texts were the impressive efforts of the humanists as copyists, and later as

editors, of the Latin classics. Along with the copying and editing of the Latin authors, the

humanists developed the techniques of textual and historical criticism, and studied Latin

grammar, rhetoric, ancient history, and mythology. Thus, not only were the humanists

responsible for introducing—or rather, reintroducing—material into the sphere of learning, they

can also be credited for pioneering new ways of approaching and critiquing that material. As a

result, the humanists produced a vast body of commentaries on the various Latin authors, in

which they incorporated their philological and historical knowledge as well as their unique brand

of critical judgment.26

With the rise of humanism, we see a shifting of priorities, of focus, from emphasizing the content of a work to emphasizing the form. For instance, Petrarch, perhaps the most preeminent of the early humanists, criticizes the Aristotelian scholastic tradition that had been the standard

24 Eugene Rice and Anthony Grafton reach the same conclusion in The Foundations of Early Modern Europe, 1460- 1559: “Renaissance scholars claimed to have recovered ancient literature from the dust and neglect of a millennium. One must not take their claim literally. [...] ...It must be recognized that a large body of ancient literature had been conveniently available for centuries.” pp. 83-4. 25 Charles Nauert, Humanism and the Culture of Renaissance Europe, p. 10. 26 Kristeller, pp. 13-15. 12

of higher learning during the medieval period, not necessarily for the validity or relevance of its

ideas, but rather because the works of Aristotle contain ‘not the slightest trace of eloquence’.27 It

is for this reason, according to the humanist mindset, that Aristotle and the intellectual tradition

that he represents can no longer be considered representative of knowledge and culture, ideally

speaking. However, in time, the humanists do find a way to make peace with Aristotle, in the

way that most new movements come to terms with their predecessors: through assimilation.

Instead of fighting him, the humanists now required that Aristotle’s language and the spirit of his

ideas be appropriated. 28

Not surprisingly, then, the classicist humanists operated under the fundamental

assumption that classical antiquity was a sort of “Golden Age,” a great reservoir of literary,

intellectual, artistic, and moral excellence, and that this age was followed by a long period of

decline that had followed the fall of the Roman Empire—the barbaric, corrupt “Dark Ages”—

and that it was the task of their own age to bring about a rebirth—a “renaissance”—of classical

antiquity’s learning.29 Thus, the humanists themselves helped to shape the concept of the

Renaissance, a time period whose very existence has been debated by some modern historians,

and which has been so bitterly criticized by others.30

In the modern sense of the word, “humanism” can essentially be used to describe anyone

who appreciates or is interested in human worth or values, meaning on some level nearly anyone

could be described as a humanist. To be sure, Renaissance humanists were also interested in

human values, however this was secondary to their primary interest and priority, which was the

study and imitation of classical literature. The reverence for the classics during the Italian

27 For more on Petrarch’s criticism of Aristotle, as well as scholasticism in general, see the section entitled “Petrarch’s critique of scholasticism” in Hankins’ essay, pp. 39-45. 28 Cassirer, pp. 1-2. 29 Hankins, p. 32. 30 Kristeller, p. 124. 13

Renaissance was at its core a cultural, literary, and educational movement, and while it had an undeniable influence on Renaissance philosophical thought, its philosophical influence can never be completely divorced from its literary interests.31 Even though humanism wasn’t a philosophy in and of itself, the pervasive influence of humanism on all aspects of Renaissance culture, and especially on its philosophical thought, is immeasurable. Conversely, the influence of

Renaissance culture and thought upon the essentially literary movement of Renaissance humanism should also not be overlooked.

Having established the qualitative aspects of humanism—that is, what it is (and is not)—I turn now to the movement’s causative factors. Movements, cultural and otherwise, generally arise in response to something else, forming either in opposition to, or in support of some other cultural phenomenon. Understanding why humanism arose at all is important to our understanding of Pietro Pomponazzi, since present within humanism’s formation are some of the central tenets of the Renaissance philosophy of man, many of which appear in Pomponazzi’s writings. Pomponazzi—like the Renaissance itself—was shaped by many various currents, residing in the overlap of many, sometimes oppositional, spheres of influence: humanistic and scholastic, medieval and Renaissance, Averroist and Thomist; past and present. Understanding the roiling and sometimes opposing currents at play within the Renaissance will be of use in analyzing the thought of a man who was a product of this context, one who would both represent and transgress the expectations of his time.

Some of the more characteristic and influential aspects of Renaissance humanism are simply indicative of the culture which spawned it, and actually have little or nothing to do with the study of the classics at all. For one, there is the emphasis on humankind, on its inherent dignity and privileged place in the universe. This anthropocentric ideal was undoubtedly implied

31 Ibid., p. 121. 14

in, and connected with, the central program of the studia humanitatis. Indeed, the choice of the

term “humanities” implies that the study and appreciation of the classics—the humanities—is

important because it serves to develop a desirable type of human being. In short, they are studies

befitting the ideal human; the classics represent the highest level of human achievement, and

should hence be of the utmost importance for any person wishing to better themselves.32 Thus,

humanism in part developed because of a growing sense of man’s importance, as a way to foster

an appreciation for what was considered to be the highest level of human intellectual

achievement. Aside from the more humane philosophical influences on the development of

humanism, there was also a key practical aspect that made the cultivation of the budding

movement desirable. At the dawn of the fourteenth century, the growing class of moneyed,

educated laymen in the major Italian cities was fumbling its way toward a new culture, one

distinct from the chivalric culture of the medieval nobility and the scholastic culture of the

clergy.33 This era in history was witnessing a shift in the political climate, from a medieval

feudal mentality to a more republican arrangement, which required more pronounced citizen

involvement in politics.

Whereas the scholastic education of the Middle Ages, which prioritized logic above all

the other liberal arts, suited the needs of men seeking the absolute certainty that careers in

theology and natural science required, it was not terribly practical for the new generation of

young men whose futures consisted in making the debatable, merely probable or defensible

determinations required in government or the law courts. The humanistic arts of grammar (clear

and correct writing and speaking) and rhetoric (persuasive argument and the making of practical

32 Cassirer et al., p. 4; also Hankins, p. 32: “The scope of humane studies was to improve the quality of human beings qua human. The humanists claimed that the study of good letters made people better, more virtuous, wiser, and more eloquent. It made them worthy to exercise power and made them better citizens and subjects when not exercising power. Humane studies embellished life, brought pleasure, and nourished piety.” 33 Nauert, p. 8. 15 decisions on the basis of probability) were far more useful for young men of the politically dominant classes. Also, what was now useful was not necessarily knowledge of facts about nature, but the making of wise moral choices and the development of persuasive arguments.

Rhetorical skill and character development became and remained the advantages claimed for humanistic education. Thus a humanistic education became more practical, meeting the evolving needs of 14th and 15th century Italy.34

What this means for our understanding of Pietro Pomponazzi is that it perhaps helps to explain several key things about his writings. For one, we see in Pomponazzi’s philosophy a concern for human dignity and a belief about human significance in a more universal hierarchy.

In fact, his arguments for the mortality of the soul are in part linked to his philosophy of ethics— that mortality of the soul better preserves the existential dignity of humankind than does immortality. Second, Pomponazzi’s emphasis on empiricism, on examining the operations and nature of the soul as it exists in man, highlights a desire on his part to move toward a more demonstrable, practical metaphysics, and away from the sometimes wild, groundless metaphysical speculations of his Averroist antecedents. I will cover these themes in greater detail in subsequent chapters. I only include these points summarily in order to illustrate the extent to which humanism may claim specific influence over the person of Pietro Pomponazzi.

Scholasticism

There is a rather reductive tendency among some historians of philosophy to think of the medieval period as scholastic/Aristotelian, and to think of the Renaissance as humanistic/Platonic. And while, as with most generalizations, there is perhaps a kernel of truth to this conception hinting at a general trend, it would be grossly inaccurate to categorize these movements as so chronologically distinct and so diametrically opposed. If we look beyond the

34 Ibid., p. 15. 16

studia humanitatis into other arenas of learning as they existed during the Italian Renaissance,

that is, into law, medicine, theology, mathematics, and natural philosophy, what we find is a fairly unbroken continuation of medieval-style learning, which may hence be accurately termed scholasticism.35 What we see, then, is that the two traditions of humanism and scholasticism had

their loci in two entirely different fields of learning: humanism in the field of grammar, rhetoric,

and to some extent moral philosophy, and scholasticism in the fields of logic and natural

philosophy.36

To be sure, scholasticism was a product of the medieval period, and during that period

was the reigning intellectual methodology of the Italian universities. What defines scholasticism

is not so much a particular doctrine or philosophy, but rather a method of logical enquiry and

argument known as the Quaestio, which was often used to investigate two authoritative texts that

seemed to contradict one another. Two opposing arguments would be posited in the form of an

“either/or” question, and each part of the question would have to be approved or refuted.

Arguments against the position taken would be presented in turn, followed by arguments against

the other position, and finally the arguments against the position would be refuted. Formulaic

and methodical, this process forced scholars to consider opposing viewpoints and defend their

own arguments against them.37 This methodological approach was also turned onto the

scholastic sources; traditional authorities were systematized and reorganized into legal codes and

textbooks. This codified and standardized material then became fodder for another common

logical concern at the heart of the scholastic method, that of reconciling apparently incompatible

35 Kristeller, p. 111. 36 Ibid., p. 113. 37Willem van Asselt, Introduction to Reformed Scholasticism, trans. Albert Gootjes, pp. 61-2 17 authorities with each other.38 Hence we see St. Thomas, paragon of scholasticism, breaking away from the Platonic Augustinian Christian orthodoxy of his day to attempt—and to largely succeed in—a reconciliation of Aristotle with Christianity.

There is a common notion that scholasticism, at the dawn of the Renaissance, was an

“old” philosophy, and was summarily overtaken and replaced by the “new” philosophy of humanism. This, however, is not true. As we have seen, scholasticism and humanism had separate ends, and different means to those ends. The most distinct brand of Italian scholasticism developed toward the end of the 13th century—about the same time as did Italian humanism; both traditions then continued to develop side by side throughout the Renaissance and even thereafter.39 Thus, the myth of the feud between humanists and scholastics is overblown and misrepresented. It is as much about interpersonal rivalries and departmental feuds as it is about dueling philosophical world-views. Reducing this supposed feud to one issue is reductive and futile, because the various discussions taken up by the two schools of thought covered a very wide base of diverse issues. In sum, what historians have tried to interpret as a struggle for existence was in fact merely a rivalry between different concurrent forms of expression.40

In fact, if nothing else, Aristotelian scholasticism remained unarguably the dominant force within the university system throughout the entire Italian Renaissance, lasting even into the

17th century. This assertion finds support in that fact that in the Renaissance there existed a far larger number of manuscripts, printed editions, translations, and commentaries on Aristotle than

38 Hankins, p. 33; also Paul Richard Blum, “The immortality of the soul”, The Cambridge Companion to Renaissance Philosophy, p. 217, where he recounts how Nicoletto Vernia advocated a “fundamental concordance between Plato and Aristotle”—an interesting claim indeed. 39 Kristeller, p. 113. 40 Cassier et al., p. 4; Also, Kristeller in Eight Philosophers of the Italian Renaissance: “We may compare the rivalry between the two traditions, with some qualifications, to the modern rivalry between the sciences and the humanities.” p. 72. 18

on any other philosopher. Between the invention of printing in the late 15th century and the

beginning of the 17th, more than 3,000 editions of Aristotle’s works were published, as compared

to the some fourteen printed books containing the works of Plato. Furthermore, there are

roughly twenty times more commentaries on the works of Aristotle than on the dialogues of

Plato. Of course, to say that Aristotelian scholasticism was the reigning philosophical and

didactic tradition is not to say that it was the most valid, the most innovative, or even the most

important, but simply that it carried an influence quantitatively greater than any competing

tradition.41

Still, humanism had a definite, if indirect, impact on scholasticism. The discovery and

distribution of heretofore untouched or untranslated ancient texts by the humanists, especially

Platonic and Stoic texts, provided the Aristotelian scholastics with new material, as well as new

angles and insights. It is at this exact confluence of supposedly opposed traditions that we find

Pietro Pomponazzi. There is a tendency to present Pomponazzi as essentially different from the

other Aristotelians of his time and perhaps just as closely related to the humanists, or to later

early Enlightenment scientists. This, however, is merely an attempt to reconcile a modern

respect for Pomponazzi with a coexistent modern prejudice against Renaissance Aristotelianism.

However, though he certainly was notably influenced by humanism, Pomponazzi does not

properly belong to the humanists or anyone else, but rather to the tradition of medieval and

Renaissance scholastic Aristotelianism.42

Scholasticism and Aristotelianism are traditionally inextricably fused, where

scholasticism describes a form of argumentative style, while Aristotelianism provided the

content of that methodology. Despite the fact that he was a pagan, Aristotle was considered by

41 Luca Bianchi, “Continuity and change in the Aristotelian tradition”, The Cambridge Companion to Renaissance Philosophy, p. 49-50. 42 Kristeller, p. 115. 19

Christian Europe to be the best guide to the rational order behind the natural world. This was an

inevitable judgment, since Aristotle had already become the most important authority on natural philosophy in the Byzantine and Islamic worlds. Thus Aristotle’s breed of logic and natural

philosophy became the center of the arts curriculum in medieval and Renaissance universities.43

The development of scholasticism in Italy during the 12th century was closely connected with

the schools and universities of Paris and Oxford, where scholasticism had already taken root;

Italy was rather late to capitalize on this developing intellectual trend during the Middle Ages.

However, from the late 13th century onward, the content of scholastic philosophy was largely

grounded in the writings of Aristotle, Aristotelian philosophy having since been imported from

France. After the beginning of the 14th century, this Italian breed of scholastic Aristotelianism

solidified itself and assumed a more definite shape.44 It is no accident that Aristotelian

philosophy was able to be applied so well to the scholastic method of enquiry. For one, the

works of Aristotle are largely concerned with logic, a field of study which lends itself rather

nicely to a repeatable, systematic method of thought. Furthermore, because the writings of

Aristotle are at times apparently contradictory and often somewhat inscrutable, they provide

ample fodder for quaestio-style investigation. As for Pomponazzi specifically, we find

something of an irony: he represents both an ultimate return to the “pure” Aristotle, free from the

misreadings and extraneous additions of the Averroists, Alexandrists, and Thomists—a new

comprehension and use of Aristotelian philosophy. However, in taking scholasticism, the very

43 Hankins, p. 34. However, he adds that “It would be a mistake...to assume that Aristotle’s privileged position in the arts (or undergraduate) curriculum meant that his authority was unquestioned or unquestionable.” For more on this, see Pegis’ Saint Thomas and the Problem of the Soul in the Thirteenth Century, pp. 13-15and 121. 44 Kristeller, p. 112. 20 tradition he represents, to its zenith, he also signals its end. “Pomponazzi, the last of the schoolmen,” says Andrew Halliday Douglas, “is, in a sense, the first of the Aristotelians.”45

The Renaissance Philosophy of Man

As I have alluded to earlier, humanism—and now scholasticism—cannot be said to represent “Renaissance philosophy” as a whole, though humanism certainly influenced the philosophical current of its day, and reciprocally humanism—and to some extent an evolving concept of Renaissance scholasticism—was affected by this overall philosophical context.

Though it may seem that this period was mostly an aggregate of mutually opposing ideals and worldviews, it is definitely possible to speak of a rather stable Italian Renaissance zeitgeist, what

Ernst Cassirer terms a “self-contained unity”.46 Without speaking of any “school” of philosophy specifically, there are some key elements that pervade much of the thought and writings of the time, and can be considered uniquely representative of the Renaissance as an era: the inborn dignity of man, the importance of one’s feelings and opinions, and humanitas—concern for one’s fellow man. Because these recurring themes transcend the bounds of defined schools of thought, they are especially valuable as a broad view of the general historical and intellectual matrix in which Pomponazzi developed.

First and perhaps most famously was the emphasis on humankind and its inherent dignity and privileged place in the universe. More than simply being a narcissistic spiritual movement, mankind and the human soul became the true standard of intellectual importance, and much of the more important works produced during the Renaissance centered around—or at the very least indirectly involved—this inescapable subject.47 Though the concept of man’s dignity was a topic of concern for arguably all Renaissance traditions of thought, it would be fair to say that it

45 Douglas, introduction. 46 Cassirer, xi. 47 Kristeller, pp. 123-5. 21

was, perhaps not surprisingly, humanism who was the idea’s most vocal champion. Marsilio

Ficino, often described as the zenith of Florentine humanism, treats the subject directly in his

major work Theologia Platonica de immortalitate animae, or The Platonic Theology of the

Immortality of the Soul.48 Ficino’s Theologica contains notable passages in which the

superiority and dignity of the human being is emphasized. Humans are superior to other living

creatures because of the variety of their arts and skills. With their distinctive intellect and desire,

they have a share in all parts of the universe, and are related to each of those parts, meaning that

the human soul is directed both toward God and toward the physical body—both toward the intelligible and unintelligible. The human soul occupies a central, mediatory place in the universal hierarchy, caught between higher and lower, mortal and immortal, time and eternity.49

Pietro Pomponazzi, coming from a somewhat antithetical position, still arrives at the same

conclusion. Like Ficino, he focuses his attention on man and his destiny; both emphasize

individual and personal values, and in this sense both can be thought of as humanistic.

Another characteristic feature of Renaissance thought is the tendency to express, and

more specifically to consider worth expressing, one’s feelings, opinions, and experiences.50 This

phenomenon is more deliberately evident in an expressive Renaissance essayist like Michel de

Montaigne, rather than in the somewhat dense, dry arena of Pomponazzi’s Aristotelian

metaphysics. However, we must remember that Pomponazzi was in many ways humanistic: he

fervently opposed the tradition of impersonal and collectivistic Averroism, and injected

humanistic values into Italian Aristotelianism. While Pomponazzi definitely subscribes to the

traditional dialectical method of the scholastic Aristotelians, he employs it in partial service of

48 Cassirer et al., p. 7. 49 Rice & Grafton, p. 88. 50 Kristeller, p. 20. 22 the problems and values of the humanists.51 Being a seemingly somewhat sober, analytical individual, Pomponazzi does not express his feelings so much as he does his opinions, though not so much when it comes to his reading and analysis of Aristotle’s thoughts on the soul, which is quite methodically logical in its progression. This he reserves for his discussion of morality and ethics, in which he takes his most daring intellectual risks, not as a exegete of someone else’s opinions, but as an originator of his own.

The third pillar of the Renaissance philosophy of man is humanitas—literally

“humanity”, being humane toward one’s fellow man. The concept of humanitas meant that one proves oneself a member of the human race by loving other people as one’s equals, which is closely associated, and not accidentally, with the belief in the dignity of man: humane treatment is befitting of humans because of their inherent value and dignity.52 As is becoming apparent, during the Renaissance a decidedly staunch sense of individualism was developing. This growing sense of the importance of the individual undergirds the most significant rift in Italian

Renaissance philosophy: that between the Aristotelians and the Platonists. Keep in mind that humanism was not a philosophy per se, but rather a set of values or intellectual priorities, the most essential being classicism and the dignity of the individual. As such, humanists tended to gravitate toward a school of philosophy whose metaphysics was compatible with these tenets:

Platonism.

Without wanting to attempt a detailed account of a Platonism, a centuries-old philosophical tradition, I will attempt a brief outline. In the early 4th century BC, Plato laid out his model for the soul’s relationship with the body: the soul and body were the mover and the moved, bearing a relationship akin to a car and driver, or a ship and its captain, or a hand and a

51 Cassirer et al., p. 16. 52 Kristeller, p. 133. 23 glove. As such, being immaterial and whole, the soul had a nature and existence all its own, and with the death of the body, the soul was then free to leave and realize its higher, purer potential.

Later in the 4th century BC, Aristotle, Plato’s student, designed his own model that took exception to Plato’s “dualist” model: it made no sense to Aristotle that two separate beings could occupy the same space simultaneously, and furthermore, it failed to account for the singularity of physical experience that we experience in our daily lives, and compromised the unity of the individual. Thus he proposed a “monist” model, wherein the soul was the form of a living body, and the body itself was the matter that composed it. In this model, form and matter were logically inseparable; for instance, how could you take a bronze statue of Zeus and strip it of its bronze matter, and have it “exist” in any meaningful or sensible way? The form, obviously, ceases to exist in the absence of the matter that had once actualized it. In the Aristotelian model, the death of the physical body meant the end of the soul that actualized it. The only hope of some kind of immortality lay in a cryptic reference to a divine, separable intellect, which was touched upon earlier in this chapter and which will be developed in the next. The Aristotelian model enjoyed a long period of dogmatic acceptance, largely due to a long series of eminent translators and commentators like Alexander of Aphrodisias, Averroes, and St. Thomas

Aquinas—likewise, subjects for later discussion—who managed to keep this ancient philosophy fresh and relevant to their respective eras. It was during the Renaissance, thanks in part to the growing availability of Platonic texts, translated from the Greek by the humanists, and also thanks in part to the surging sense of individual value, that Platonism experienced its own rebirth, in response to Aristotle’s philosophy, which had itself originally developed as a response to Platonism. 24

For this reason, the Platonism professed by the Florentine universities was the most

formidable alternative to the Aristotelian schools, which had their center in Padua. The Platonic

metaphysics was particularly compatible with Christian theology, and also with the day’s

concern for combining the spiritual emphasis of religion with the values of a humane life.53 This marriage was forged early on by the 4th century St. Augustine, who famously crafted a form of

Platonized Christianity—or perhaps rather a Christianized Platonism—which became Church orthodoxy until the arrival of St. Thomas Aquinas in the 13th. This is not to say Aristotelianism

was somehow innately incompatible with Christianity. In the 13th century, St. Thomas proposed

an ingenious and highly influential fusion of Christian theology with Aristotelian metaphysics,

which even still comprises much of the doctrinal core of the modern Catholic Church.

However, also highly influential during the Renaissance was the Averroist school of

Aristotelianism, fashioned after the celebrated medieval Muslim exegete Averroes, who had

postulated that all humans shared a common intellect. During the Renaissance, among self-

proclaimed Aristotelians, Averroism was quite in vogue, and hence what the humanists found so

utterly repellent in the position of the Italian Aristotelians was not necessarily Aristotle’s own

form/matter model—though that certainly carried implications which, early on, made Christians

nervous54—but the Averroistic conception of human nature that minimized all that was personal

and individual. “In defending personal immortality against the reigning impersonal

immortality,” state Cassirer, Randall, and Kristeller, “[the Platonists] were at bottom, like

53 Cassirer et al., p. 6. 54 Aristotle was not immediately welcomed into the Christian West with open arms. Plato, via Augustine, seemed to uphold all the central tenets of Christianity: the creation of the universe, the immortality of the soul, and the existence and providence of God. Aristotle, coming into medieval Europe via the Islamic world, and who seemed to deny not only creation, because of his belief in eternal motion, but also the immortality of the soul, and the providence of God within the universe, was a hard sell. The Christians desired to insure the substantiality and immortality of the soul. Also, the intimate union of body and soul in the Aristotelian model seemed to rob the soul of its glory and reduce it to the mere form of the body. However, in turning to Plato, Christianity was open to the charge of endangering the unity of man. For a full discussion of this, see Anton Pegis, St. Thomas and the Problem of the Soul in the Thirteenth Century, pp. 13-15 and 121. 25

Thomas before them, defending the dignity and worth of the individual man.”55 More than simply making humanity dignified, immortality made it divine, or at least allowed it to partake in what was divine. As Paul Richard Blum states regarding the debate over immortality, “What needs to be clarified is whether human spirituality, or mind, or intellect, or soul, is something divine or a derivative of the divine, assuming the divine admits degrees.”56 For those arguing for

immortality, either the Platonic self-subsistent, separable soul, or the Aristotelian “imperishable”,

“divine” intellect, represented that which made the human more-than-animal, and placed him

between the angels and beasts. Immortality became symbolic for human worth and dignity—the

banner under which philosophers fought for individualistic and personal humanistic values in

general. The prominent 15th century humanist Pico della Mirandola attributed man’s dignity, not

to some fixed place within the universal hierarchy, but to an individual’s inherent freedom to

decide where on that hierarchical spectrum he or she wished to be; a person contained within

them the nature to become like anything they wished, based on their will: “like a rock or a plant

if he turn toward evil, like the angels or a mortal god if he turn toward good.”57

In fact, much of the argument on both sides of the debate over the soul’s mortality or

immortality had perhaps more to do with the humanist concern for preserving the inherent

dignity of man than it did with anything else. For instance, from the standpoint of Marsilio

Ficino, the putative representative of Florentine Platonic humanism, the highest purpose in life is

that of contemplation, imagined here as a spiritual exercise which separates mind from body,

progresses through varying degrees of knowledge, and finally culminates in the vision and

enjoyment of God. Thus, for Ficino, the immortality of the soul attains a place of central

importance, because immortality is needed to justify his belief in human existence as a life-long

55 Cassirer et al., p. 17. 56 p. 211. 57 Rice & Grafton, p. 88-9. 26 effort of spiritual contemplation. Without the prospect of immortality—an eternity of rapturous, ecstatic intellectual union with God—that contemplative effort would be in vain, and human existence would be without any attainable end.58 Ironically, arriving at the completely opposite conclusion, Pomponazzi argues that it is mortality rather than immortality that best preserves the dignity of man and is most compatible with a truly ethical life. Dismissing the promise of immortality as a tool invented by religious leaders to entice the masses to live righteously,

Pomponazzi takes a decidedly Stoic tack, stating that virtue is its own reward and vice is its own punishment, and that those who truly live according to the truth of philosophy fulfill the potential of their own natures entirely within their present, decidedly terrestrial lives. In either case, though they disagree on the means to the end, both men have the value and nobility of human life at the core of their metaphysics, and so both share in the humanist tradition that is so characteristic of the Renaissance period they represent.

So much for the Renaissance philosophy of man. In the next chapter, I will explore

Aristotelianism in greater depth, specifically as concerns the nature of the soul. Since the soul’s

“quiddity” is the perennial problem that occupied Pomponazzi, and since Pomponazzi’s language is largely borrowed from Aristotle and from those major commentators—Alexander, Averroes, and Thomas—who followed in his footsteps, it will be of some importance to survey the development of the Aristotelianism that Pomponazzi inherited and subsequently reinvented.

Again, we can only truly appreciate the specialness of Pietro Pomponazzi if we hold him against the backdrop of his predecessors.

58 Kristeller, p. 130. Also, see Blum’s discussion of Ficino and his emphasis on the immortal soul as that which dignifies man by bestowing him with his dignified role as mediator between and integrator of the mortal and immortal spheres, pp. 213-217. 27

II

The Aristotelian Tradition

The scope of the Aristotelian tradition is enormous. Aristotle was perhaps not as philosophically influential during his own lifetime as one might expect, though he certainly enjoyed an enviable reputation for learnedness (he was, after all, commissioned to be Alexander the Great’s teacher). It was not until hundreds of years later, after his works began to be interpreted and commented upon by individuals like Themistius and Alexander of Aphrodisias, that the thought of Aristotle evolved from existing as the ideas of a single man into a full- fledged intellectual tradition. The breadth of Aristotle’s subject matter is also rather impressive, ranging from grammar and poetics to physics, biology, and metaphysics—the nature of intangibles like the human intellect and soul. It should come as no surprise that it is his metaphysical works that will be of pressing relevance to this thesis, because Pietro Pomponazzi is one of the last, but also perhaps one of the best, in a long line of Aristotelian philosophers.

Pomponazzi, however, differentiates himself by not simply interpreting Aristotle, but goes farther by developing his own philosophical contribution in light of his interpretation. Just what this contribution was will be the subject of later discussion.

For the present, it will be necessary to conduct, in similar fashion to the previous chapter, a cursory overview of Aristotelianism, starting with Aristotle’s own writings, to continue with some of his most influential commentators and conclude finally with Pomponazzi. The intent of this chapter is not to detail the entire history of the Aristotelian school of thought, whose influence spanned some 1,400 years, until it was displaced by Newtonian physics and

Enlightenment thinking. Rather, this chapter will provide a crucial context for understanding the 28

material presented in Pomponazzi’s Utrum definitio animae sit bene assignata and Utrum anima

rationalis sit forma substantialis, the fragments at the heart of this thesis project.

Aristotle

Aristotle’s De Anima was the cornerstone text of a tradition that would come to be based

on his model of the soul’s interaction with the body. As with some other canonical texts that are

assumed to contain some universal truths, many individuals rose to the task of interpreting its

sometimes cryptic passages, claiming to provide the “correct” interpretation—to have grasped

the original meaning of the author.59 What makes this feat perhaps even more difficult is the fact

that it is quite possible that Aristotle never intended to “publish” the De Anima as a cohesive

work, since it appears as though it is not a book or treatise, but rather a series of lecture notes.

Nevertheless, it does possess an undeniable unity of intent and thought. The De Anima was

Aristotle’s formal, systematic repudiation of the dualistic model of “soul using a body” professed

by Plato, Aristotle’s own teacher. In it, Aristotle points to the absurdity of the soul as a self-

subsistent, whole being inhabiting a body. For one, this Platonic model contradicts the unity of

experience that we sense intuitively as humans; we interact with the world not as a puppet and puppeteer, or a ship and captain, but as a unified, complete individual. The captain and ship are two separate entities, and it makes no sense to Aristotle that a person should be composed of two separate entities. Secondly, if the soul was already whole in-and-of itself, it would have no need—and furthermore, no ability—to join with a body, since whole cannot join with whole and form a composite.

59 “Despite, and undoubtedly because of, the enigmatic quality of his words, the Greek commentators on Aristotle (Alexander), medieval Islamic and Christian philosophers (Averroes, Thomas), and European philosophers as late as the sixteenth century pored over the master’s words, seeking in them the key for deciphering man’s essence, man’s fate, and the structure of the universe.” Herbert Davidson, Alfarabi, Avicenna, and Averroes on Intellect: Their Cosmologies, Theories of Active Intellect, and Theories of Human Intellect, p. 4. 29

As such, Aristotle proposes his now-famous theory of form [forma] and matter [materia].

This dichotomy pervaded his entire philosophy, positing that the various objects within the

physical universe consist of both primary matter and a causal form, which informs the matter and leads it from mere potentiality to actuality—from simply having the capacity of being or doing something, to actually being or doing it. Form is thus not simply the shape of a thing, or even the determiner of the sort of thing that a thing is; it is the force that actualizes the potential present in matter.60 We will see more of Aristotle’s interest in overturning the dualism of Plato’s

body/soul conception in favor of his own monistic conception momentarily. In the previous

chapter, I referred to an example of a bronze statue of Zeus to illustrate the idea of form and

matter, where the matter was bronze, and the form was Zeus, and neither the form nor the matter

could exist without the other in any real way. But this example of a statue is problematic. On

the surface, the form/matter model is easy to understand; after all, matter has to exist in some

form or another, and a form cannot exist logically per se unless it is the form of some thing.

However, Aristotle realized that there was something that differentiated a statue,

composed of form and matter, and a dog, also composed of form and matter. He had to explain

what allowed us to characterize some things as “alive”, and other things as inanimate. He did it

using his form/matter model. Using these qualifications, Aristotle states:

[S]oul is the first actuality of a natural body having in it the capacity of life. And

a body which is possessed of organs answers to this description... Hence there is

no need to inquire whether soul and body are one, any more than whether the wax

and the imprint are one; or, in general, whether the matter of a thing is the same

with that of which it is the matter.61

60 Aristotle, De anima, II.i.412a. 61 Ibid., II.i.412b. 30

This explanation, however, still did not address directly what causes something to live, or what

being alive actually meant. Thus Aristotle moves through a series of working definitions, first

(rather obviously) that it is life which distinguishes the animate from the inanimate. He then

quickly defines what he means by life: namely, the capacities of growth and nutrition, sensation,

thought, and movement.62 It follows from this then, he surmises, that the soul, by definition, is a

particular kind of actuality, a form, of that which has the capacity to be endowed with a soul—

that is, of a specific arrangement of matter which has the potential for being alive. “If the eye

were a living being,” explains Clarence Shute, “its soul would be seeing. This is the case of the

whole living body. Just as the pupil and the power of seeing constitute the eye, so the body and

the soul constitute the living being.”63 The soul then, being the form of a living thing (indeed, the very thing that made it a living thing in the first place) could not exist separately from the physical substance that provides it with matter. In other words, the soul cannot be separated

from the body.64

In Aristotle’s schema, the soul was trifold. Since Aristotle conceived of the soul as the

special kind of form that made living things live, even plants had souls. If we refer back to the

characteristics of living things that Aristotle had outlined, Aristotle’s trifold soul is a logical

extension. First, there is the nutritive soul. This is simply the capacity for growth, reproduction,

and death that characterizes every living thing, from grass, to antelopes and humans. However,

some living things are characteristic of sensing their environment through sight, sound, touch,

taste, or smell, and also of reacting to these sensations. This capacity Aristotle called the

sensitive soul, which animals and humans possess, but not plants. Finally, there is the rational

62 Ibid. II.ii.413b. 63 Charles Schute, The Psychology of Aristotle, p. 124. 64 Aristotle, De anima. II.ii.413a. 31 soul, characteristic of “the human alone of the animal kingdom”.65 This capacity allowed for knowledge and its exercise, as well as emotion, logic, and cognition. This is not to say that a singular being has three logically distinct souls: nutritive, sensitive, and rational; rather, it means that the human soul has three levels of operation, while the souls of less complex being have fewer grades within their souls. Since forms are simply the actualities of the potential found in the matter they shape, and since each of these grades of soul is easily reducible to the functions of the physical body, if Aristotle’s theory had ended here, it would be fairly univocal and would not provide much ground for interpretation: the soul is necessarily extinguished with the body at the time of death. However, the intellect is different.

Aristotle introduces the intellect as a separate entity from his general concept of the soul, and makes it the thing that separates humans from other animate beings: all living things have souls; only humans have intellects. Within the tradition of Aristotelianism, the term anima intellectiva came to represent the soul qua intellect, the part of the soul—or more accurately, the capability or function of the soul—which thinks. This intellectual power is, for Aristotle, tricky, because it does not seem to be the actuality of any particular bodily organ, the way that the power of sight is the actuality of the physical eye. He theorizes that the intellect is a “distinct species of soul,” one which is not the actuality of any body whatsoever. As such, since it does not exist in a form/matter composite, the intellect alone is capable of separation from the physical body and of surviving the body’s death:

[T]hought and the exercise of knowledge...are in themselves impassive. But

reasoning, love, and hatred are not attributes of the thinking faculty but of its

individual possessor... Hence when this possessor perishes, there is neither

memory nor love: for these never did belong to the thinking faculty, but to the

65 K.V. Wilkes, “Psuche Versus the Mind”, Essays on Aristotle’s De Anima, p. 110. 32

composite whole which has perished, while the intellect is doubtless a thing more

divine and impassive.66

Further on, he becomes even more explicit, stating that “it [intellect] alone is capable of separation from the body, as that which is eternal from that which is perishable.”67 In other words, while skeptical of the survival of the intact personal identity after death, Aristotle does concede that the human intellect, since it cannot be considered an actuality of any part of the composite whole of soul (form) and body (matter), is, in theory at least, separable and divine, and does survive death. This development presents a problem for readers: Aristotle never actually tells us what this disembodied intellect looks like. Obviously there is no vision or hearing, since these would have perished with the composite, and Aristotle also claims that emotion, memory, and reasoning are also attributes of the perishable composite. Indeed, the most important attributes of the state of being alive—sensation, memory, pleasure, passion, pain, desire, appetency, and so forth—are possessed only of the composite of body and soul.68 This begs the question of whether there is any sort of personality or individuality in this disembodied intellectual existence, or whether it is this some kind of nebulous, abstract existence. It even begs the question of whether it would even be desirous to survive death in such a state. What does the intellect think about in its disembodied state? Does it even think? Does it simply exist as intellect qua potential of thought? Aristotle is silent on these issues. Into this vacuum, however, others would project their voices and interpretations.

Aristotle’s interest in the intellect is not simply, or even primarily, centered around its putative capacity for immortality. The De Anima attempts to explain how the human intellect functions within a living person—how it transitions from its natural passive state, in which it

66 Ibid., I.iv.408b. 67 Ibid., II.ii.113b. See also III.iv.429b. 68 Fernando Vidal, Sciences of the Soul, p. 32. 33 does not think, to a subsequent active state, in which it does. Pomponazzi himself, as we remember, was most acutely interested in how the soul (and by extension, the intellect) empirically functioned in man, and not in some imaginary, hypothetical disembodied state.

Aristotle started from the presumption that thought represents a perfect, undistorted reflection of the external world. Reasoning that any inherent quality possessed by the human intellect would distort thoughts received by it, and thus prevent the intellect from performing its role, he theorized that the human intellect was a part of the soul which has the ability—potential—to become any given thing, but in itself originally has no nature whatsoever other than the ability to think.69 This intellect for Aristotle was like a wax tablet: blank, containing nothing until it is written on, and having the potential to have anything written on it. Simply put, the intellect, in its passive state, represents a potentiality rather than an actuality.

However, the intellect is obviously led from potential to action as it thinks, so Aristotle differentiates the two modes of intellect: the intellect whose identity lies in the ability to become all things was called the potential intellect, and the intellect by which all things actually become thought or knowledge was called the active intellect. Unfortunately though, the matter is complicated by the fact that just what Aristotle meant by potential and active intellect—terms not made explicit in the De Anima—and how he understood the interaction between the two, remains unclear. Debate still exists over whether this power of intellection was carried out by the soul proper, or by some external entity acting in “union” with the soul. Problematically cryptic passages in the De Anima, such as, “...intellect would seem to be developed in us as a self- existing substance and to be imperishable,”70 have caused historical commentators as well as modern students of philosophy to argue over Aristotle’s intent, in particular the question of

69 Davidson, p. 3. 70 De Anima, I.iv.408b. 34

whether he considered the active intellect to be an aspect of the human soul, or a separate entity

existing independently of man.

Alexander of Aphrodisias

Perhaps not the first commentator, but certainly one of the first important commentators,

to enter the discussion on Aristotle’s intent was a 3rd century Greek intellectual from Asia Minor,

Alexander of Aphrodisias. Alexander is not only regarded as the best of the ancient

commentators, but also as the last strictly “Aristotelian” one, whose aim was to present and

defend Aristotle's philosophy as a coherent whole. Later philosophers and commentators who took up the Aristotelian banner were inescapably influenced by Neoplatonism and the corollary goal of reconciling the thought of Plato and Aristotle.71 Alexander’s own treatise on the nature

of the soul, also entitled De Anima, seeks to answer some of the questions on the soul and the

various degrees of intellect that Aristotle’s own De Anima left open.

Alexander, perhaps rightly, has often been referred to as a materialist. This emphasis on

the physical, material nature of the human being greatly influenced Pomponazzi, who often tips

his hat to Alexander throughout his works. Much like Aristotle, Alexander saw no possibility of

the soul’s survival of the body’s death.72 Since the potential intellect is a capacity of the soul

proper, it is destroyed together with the soul at the dissolution of the composite being. He thus

attributed no survival to the potential for thought, which properly belonged to the man himself.73

Moreover, Aristotle’s original wording suggested that the terms “potential” as well as “material” could be used to describe the emergent faculty of the human soul which had the power to become everything, or rather, think all thoughts. Alexander therefore called the primary state of

71 Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, “Alexander of Aphrodisias”. Web. 72 Dag Nikolaus Hasse, “Arabic philosophy and Averroism”, The Cambridge Companion to Renaissance Philosophy, p. 120. 73 Davidson, p. 260. 35 the human intellect both “potential” and “material” intellect,74 semantically highlighting the materiality of the cognitive principle, its inextricability from the corruptible matter of the composite, and hence its own mortality. To put it another way, Alexander, like Aristotle, conceived of the potential intellect not as a “thing”, per se, but merely a disposition in the human organism, a result of the mixture of the elements composing the human body.75 “Being nothing in actuality,” Davidson clarifies, “nothing substantial or even real, the material intellect can be only a disposition for receiving intelligible forms.”76 As such, there is no way for a mere

“capability”, an abstraction at best, to survive in any logical way.

Not surprisingly then, Alexander finds fault with Aristotle’s analogy of the wax tablet for the potential intellect, since a wax tablet is a real, existent thing before it is written on, whereas the material intellect cannot be described as existent before it actually begins to think. To rectify this, he modifies the analogy by saying that the blank wax tablet is rather a metaphor for the entire human subject, and that truly the metaphor for the material intellect would be the tablet’s disposition for being written on.77 So much, then, for the potential, or material, intellect.

To review, Alexander contends that the potential intellect in man is material and inseparable from the body, and adhering to the Aristotelian model of “soul as form of body”, he argues staunchly against the prospect of the soul's immortality. However, Alexander was no mere materialist, and as we discuss Alexander’s views on the active intellect, it should become apparent that he made a place for reason and the unique nature of intellect.78 It is here that

Alexander perhaps inadvertently betrays his otherwise thoroughgoing materialism, and wanders into an ironically dualistic model of human nature, later taken to its most absurd extreme in late

74 Ibid., p. 9. 75 Anton Pegis, St.Thomas and the Problem of the Soul in the Thirteenth Century, p. 163. 76 Davidson, p. 260. 77 Ibid. p. 260. 78 Cassirer et al., p. 267. 36

Averroism, and eventually dismantled and brought full circle by the even more aggressively

materialistic Pomponazzi. Simply put, Alexander identified the active intellect with the

Unmoved Mover, God Himself.79 This conceptualization removed the actual power of

intellection from the human, and bestowed it to God, who then acted in union with the potential

intellect to “assist” or enable thinking in the individual. To Alexander, in other words, man in

and of himself was possessed of no measure of true intelligence, distinguishing it from the soul

of man as something above it, only visiting it from without.80 Though he was the last of the

“true” Aristotelians, at least perhaps until Pomponazzi himself, who has been called both the best

and the last of the Aristotelians, Alexander was beginning to show signs of succumbing to the

very sort of dualism that Aristotle had sought to overturn with his form/matter model. This

tendency was to be exaggerated by the next notable philosopher to carry Aristotle’s legacy

forward: Averroes.

Averroes

Abu al-Walid Muhammad ibn Ahmad ibn Rushd, or as we know him, Averroes, was a

12th century Islamic philosopher living in Cordoba, Spain. His reputation in regards to his

contributions to the Aristotelian tradition is diverse, to put it mildly. On one end of the spectrum,

he seen as an astute, penetrating exegete who cuts to the heart of Aristotle’s true meaning. In the

middle of this spectrum, he is an intelligent, even well-intentioned thinker who simply manages

to wander into an erroneous misreading. On the far end of the spectrum are those who see

Averroes’ ideas as a bastardization of the Master’s, with no significant connection to the real

Aristotle.81 As with any spectrum though, the actual truth of the matter lies probably

79 SEP. Alexander of Aphrodisias. Web; also Rist, The Mind of Aristotle, p. 181. 80 Douglas, p. 5. 81 See Rist, p. 181 for the foremost opinion (as regards the unity of the intellect). See Davidson p. 6 and Douglas p. 31 for the other takes on this issue. 37 somewhere in the middle. An important distinction to be made is that between Averroes the man, and Averroism, the philosophical tradition carried out by others in his name. Andrew

Halliday Douglas observes that

...many or most of those who invoked the authority of Averroes had introduced a

garbled Averroism which really travestied the doctrine of the Arabian and turned

it upside down. Not only did they employ his dogma of an eternal Intelligence of

collective humanity to support individual immortality, which Averroes probably

did not profess to hold... but, in order to do this, they had abandoned the most

characteristic tenet of Averroism, namely that individual men do not naturally

possess true reason, but receive it by “union” with the common Intelligence.82

As a result, it all becomes quite murky when one considers Averroes’ probable misreading of

Aristotle, and then the many years of definite misreadings of Averroes’ own work by the

Averroist commentators, and the resulting distance between “true Aristotle” and late Averroism.

Since there is no reason to provide here a detailed discussion of this phenomenon, for my purposes I will only outline Averroes’ own original thought, and then that of the most influential

Averroist Aristotelians who had a direct bearing on Pomponazzi’s thought.

Whether one agrees or disagrees with his interpretation of Aristotle, it would be impossible to deny the valuable role Averroes played in perpetuating the relevance of

Aristotelianism as a school of thought for centuries. He also played a critical role in providing definitive, authoritative answers to some of Aristotle’s most perplexing mysteries. For instance, if the soul was the actuality of the body—a force organizing and drawing forth bodily powers— how could any part of it be considered a substance separable from the very powers it actualized?

It appeared that the only way to save the substantiality of the soul, and by extension some form

82 Douglas, pp. 4-5. 38

of personal immortality, was to argue that the immortal intellect (seemingly given the

characteristics of a substance by Aristotle) was part of the human essence; thus one could say

that Aristotle had granted a substantial soul to man. Yet could that be said? Averroes, the most

authoritative voice available to the medievals, so authoritative in fact that he was often simply

known as “The Commentator”, answered no. He emphasized that the intellect which Aristotle

had postulated is held to be incorruptible, immaterial, and eternal. However, it seemed obvious

to Averroes that such an intellect cannot belong to man, a being imperfect by definition. Man’s

soul was indeed the actuality of the body—a mortal, perishable power, not even rising to the

intellective grade; it was a cogitative power, just above the sensitive powers. The Intellect

though, actually one of the heavenly Intelligences, was a divine power. It united with individual

cogitative souls, much as Alexander had postulated, bestowing on them the power to know.83

Such was his use of Alexander’s doctrine; the subject of the activity of thought was an

ethereal “thinking principle”, and not the individual him or herself. Hasse explains that, “the

material intellect is the ontological place and receiver of the intelligible forms, but not the

medium through which the human being is joined to the intelligible. This role is taken by the

actualized imaginative forms (the phantasmata [mental images]): we grasp the intelligibles via

the faculty of imagination.”84 Thus we do not possess intelligence, only the capacity to receive it

by virtue of the imaginative power (tantamount to the sensitive faculty of the soul). The

separation of intelligence from the soul, and the concept of thinking as an action bestowed upon man by a supervening Intelligence, thus dominated the Averroist school of thought. However, if the story ended there, Averroes would come down to us through history as no more than an adept yet derivative exegete of Alexander. Averroes’ most famous doctrine was the final denial of

83 Martin Pine, Pietro Pomponazzi: Radical Philosopher of the Renaissance, pp. 6-7. 84 p. 116. 39

intelligence to man as an individual, and as the absolute metaphysical separation of reason from

the natural soul.85 It is also tied to perhaps his most prominent—and controversial—doctrine,

that of the unity of the intellect. Whether this idea was truly a unique contribution, or whether

Averroes was simply being explicit where Alexander was satisfied to remain implicit, it

nevertheless represents the backbone of Averroism as a cohesive philosophy.

Thus the doctrine of Averroes rests upon two central pillars: one, that the intellectual

principal was utterly divorced from man himself; two, that it was one and the same for all men.86

In Averroes’ cosmic schema, the universe is composed of a hierarchy of spheres, containing the

stars, planets, etc. Each sphere has a governing Intelligence—subordinate to the supreme

Intelligence (God)—in charge of maintaining its motion. The active intellect, the cause of

human thought, represents the lowest of these Intelligences, whose sphere of influence is literally

humanity itself.87 Since human intellection, for Averroes, is a process of the potential intellect

uniting with this eternal Intelligence, his first move is to wave aside the traditional distinction

between active and potential—or passive—intellect. For him, the active and passive intellects were one and the same thing, only semantically differentiable: as active, intelligence created

intelligible forms; as passive, it received them.88 This, in one sense, is a “unity” of the intellects,

but not the most important one. The central tenet of the unity of the intellect is as follows:

Averroes believed, perhaps as a logical extension of the ideas borrowed from Alexander, that if

thought were exercised in the individual by union with a divine Intellect, then by definition this

Intellect in question was one and the same for every person on the planet. Moreover, every

individual in existence simply contains the potential or capacity for union with the singular

85 Douglas, p. 36. 86 Ibid., p. 80. 87 Davidson, p. 4. 88 Douglass, p. 39. 40

divine Intellect, and hence the intellect used by every individual is the same. This singular,

divine Intellect shared by humankind is thus capable of an impersonal immortality, but

individuals and their souls suffer the dissolution of death.89 Thus, men as individuals are

unquestionably mortal, and only “participate” in immortality by linking with the eternal

Intelligence. As John Herman Randall puts it, “knowing is not a personal function at all; it is

Truth which knows itself, now in this individual, now in another. For though this single human

Intellect is independent in its existence, it cannot know truth save as it employs the sensitive

powers of this or that human body.”90

This Averroistic model for intellection might appear to be the grandest extravagance of

metaphysical abstraction. Yet ironically this extreme intellective dualism paved the way for a

transition to an exactly opposite mode of thought, and marked the demise of the dualism of

which it was the final expression. Averroes had affirmed that “universal” intelligence was the

only intelligence, denying to man any share therein, and assigning all the operation of thought as

expressed in man to a superhuman principle of thought (Intelligence). In effect, this amounted to

the identification of all human thought with “intelligence” per se, for there could be, on

89 Blum, p. 212. Also, Cassirer et al., p. 262. 90 Ibid., p. 262. On p. 261, Randall provides an exceedingly concise, clear, useful synopsis of the Averroistic conception of the intellect’s relationship to man: “Man is a composite of animal body and ‘cogitative soul’: he is an individual substance with a matter and form of his own. His body is a mixture of the four elements; his proper form, the ‘cogitative soul,’ is a power of the senses or the imagination—that is, it is a bodily function, a ‘material form,’ which comes into being with the body and suffers corruption with it. But man could not know without an additional rational soul which, by becoming the forms of all things, understands them. In order to be able to assimilate the forms of things without their matter, this passive or ‘possible’ Intellect must be, as Aristotle said, ‘separable and impassive and unmixed.’ It cannot therefore be the form or entelechy of any particular body, joined to and subject to that body’s matter; that would make it a ‘material form.’ It is not united to the body united to the body save in conferring upon it the function of knowing. This possible Intellect is a perfect and eternal substance, the lowest in that hierarchy of ‘Intelligences’ which inform and animate the heavenly spheres. United to men, not in its being but in its operation of intellection or knowing, this possible Intellect uses the human body as art uses an instrument, or a workman a knife. In this operation of intellection, it combines with man’s power of receiving sense images, with his ‘cogitative soul,’ to form the ‘speculative’ or theoretical intellect by which an individual man actually knows and thinks. Zabarella explains that ‘the rational soul is thus like a sailor coming into a ship already constituted, and giving to man his outstanding operation, which is to contemplate and understand, just as a sailor steering a ship gives it the operation of navigation.” It is hard to escape the Platonic overtures in such a model, and even the metaphor of “sailor and ship” is Plato’s. Herein lies the dualism that would eventually destroy Averroism as a valid interpretation of Aristotle. 41

Averroes’ terms, no operation of thought in man which was not actually “intelligence” in the full

sense of the word. Thus, in its most extreme incarnation, dualism had destroyed itself. As soon

as a fresh mind should take up the problem, Averroes’ separation of intelligence from the soul

would disintegrate, while his identification of human thought with reason would find acceptance.

This is what happened in the figure of Pietro Pomponazzi.91

Not surprisingly, the idea of an impersonal, unified Intellect, with its associated

individual mortality, absolutely horrified Renaissance humanists. The unity of the Intellect is

utterly collectivist, with little scope for the more individualistic and personal values that the

Humanists prized. It is small wonder that from Petrarch onward, the Humanists—who marveled

at the supposed worth and uniqueness of the human individual—felt strong opposition to this

professional philosophy that had become the accepted dogma of the universities, and that their

own intellectual positions and defenses were developed specifically and intentionally in contrast

to it.92 After all, there is nothing terribly impressive about a human being who only has a basic

capability to use—or rather to be used by—an external power. Removing the intellectual subjectivity from human beings made them mere objects of the impersonal Intellect, and hence removed the prospect of any real sort of human achievement. It should also come as little surprise that the Christian Church, with its requisite dogma concerning the immortality of the individual human soul93, was less than enthusiastic about the growing influence of the Islamic

Averroes and his interpretation of the pagan Aristotle. In fact, in 1270 and 1277 bishop Etienne

Tempier issued two condemnations of Averroism, specifying 219 separate unacceptable

91 Douglass, p. 40. 92 Cassirer et al., p. 11. 93 “As for the struggle against Averroism, immortality was not the problem, only individuation or multiplication: how an immaterial substance can be localized in something material like a body and thus be proper to each individual human being.” Blum, p. 218-9. 42

Averroist beliefs.94 However, it should be noted that by 1270, Averroes himself had been dead

for over 70 years, meaning that his ideas had already had ample time to be subject to distortion

by his followers. While some central tenets of Averroes’ own original thought certainly would

have been distasteful to the Church95—including the mortality of the individual soul and the unity of the intellect—analysis of the 219 positions condemned by Tempier reveals that not

many of them had their origins in Averroes himself.

D.J. O’Connor describes the delicate situation faced by philosophers in the medieval

Christian world:

None of [Averroes’] Christian disciples could, of course, support such positions

unequivocally without losing his freedom to teach, and probably much more

besides. They professed, with varying degrees of sincerity, their belief in the

doctrines to which they were committed by their membership in the Catholic

Church.96

In order to establish some sort of immunity for philosophy against Church censure, in the 13th

century, Averroism’s patron saint in Europe, Siger of Brabant, argued that there existed a so-

called "double truth": a factual or "hard" truth that is achieved through natural science and

philosophy, and a "religious" truth that is achieved through faith and revelation. This model, of

course, rather explicitly favors philosophy as the valid method to discover actual, demonstrable

“truth”, an attitude that became rather characteristic of the scholastic mode of thought. This idea

of “double truth” is often erroneously ascribed to Averroes himself, but it is highly probable that

The Commentator never held this belief. Instead, he had taught that there is only one truth,

94 Cassirer et al., p. 9. 95 Ibid., p. 10: “[Averroes’] views, whether Aristotelian or no, are obviously not Christian; and the earliest Latin Averroists frankly admitted that the conclusions of reason, philosophy, and Aristotle are not the conclusions of faith.” 96 Aquinas and Natural Law, p. 8. 43

which can be reached in two different ways—through reason (philosophy) or through faith

(religion).

It is a common belief about scholastics, and about Pomponazzi specifically, that they did not truly believe in their notion of double-truth, but that they used it as a hedge, hiding behind the lip service they paid to the “ultimate truth” of revelation by faith while simultaneously destroying the very religious dogma to which they insincerely deferred.97 As with most sweeping generalizations, this is unlikely to be entirely accurate of all Averroist scholastics; however, it would also be inaccurate to assume that this generalization was completely unfounded. Regardless, it would be fair to say that the precedent set by Siger in the 13th century,

and reinforced by Duns Scotus and William of Ockham,98 had created a unique tradition of

thought, termed “Latin Averroism” by Cassirer, Kristeller, and Randall. This term referred to the

practice of studying Aristotle through the lens of Averroes, without regard to or benefit of

Christian belief.99 Such Averroism was controversial specifically because it taught Aristotle in

its original form—double-truth or not—with little to no attempt at reconciliation with

Christianity. One man, however, did attempt such a reconciliation, and perhaps as a result,

stands todays as arguably the most influential figure of the medieval period (on Pomponazzi and

otherwise). This was St. Thomas Aquinas.

97 See Pine, p. 2: “Although Pomponazzi himself disclaims [his] view at the end of the treatise by saying that immortality is true according to faith...this is a formal denial used to prevent conflict with the Church.” Also, O’Connor, p. 8: “Such attitudes clearly leave little room for religious belief and differ from outright skepticism only in their hypocritical facade.” 98 Duns Scotus, Spirituality and Immortality of the Soul, Trans. Allan Wolter, p. 157: “It can be stated that although there are probable reasons for [the immortality of the intellective soul], these are not demonstrative, nor for that matter are they even necessary reasons.” See also Martin Pine, p. 1: “...Duns Scotus had argued that St. Thomas’ Aristotelian proofs of immortality were inconclusive...” William of Ockham is best known for his ontological efficiency (Ockham’s Razor) and his absolute denial of universals, believing only in the existence of individual entities (Nominalism). (SEP) 99 p. 9. 44

St. Thomas Aquinas

Thomas Aquinas was active during the mid-to-late 13th century, some 250 years before

Pomponazzi published his Tractatus. Being that he stands as such an eminent figure, I do not seek to even provide a summary of its depth and extent, for even such an outline would be a

Herculean effort. There are, however, several key points of his thought as regards the tradition of Aristotelianism that will be indispensable to building our context for Pomponazzi. For one,

St. Thomas was an outspoken critic of the Averroists. He composed several treatises condemning them, including De unitate intellectus contra Averroistas. More importantly, though, is that Thomas Aquinas went farthest among his contemporaries—as well as his predecessors and successors—in his attempt to reconcile Aristotelian philosophy and Christian theology. His aims were twofold: on the one hand, he simply sought to conduct a thorough analysis of Aristotle’s text, and on the other, sought to analyze the structure of the soul from a more systematic, theoretical point of view, in order to establish in which epistemological and ontological sense the individual soul might be considered to be immortal.100

Thomas Aquinas was certainly not a part of the theological tendency to represent as inimical the relationship between philosophy and religion. Despite the aforementioned contentious relationship between reason and faith, during the medieval period, Aristotelianism seemed to intellectuals far more impressive an example of the powers of human reason than anything else that had been available to them prior. Specifically, the influence of Aristotle on the philosophy of Aquinas was so significant that many historians of philosophy have regarded

Aquinas simply as a heavily Christianized version of Aristotle. This view does little justice to the great originality of thought and cleverness found in St. Thomas, even though Aristotle’s metaphysical system does provide the obvious scaffold for Thomas’ thinking. However, his is

100 Blum, p. 212. 45

an Aristotelianism refocused onto Christian theology in order to rationalize it.101 Thus we can make the subtle yet important distinction that Thomas was not so much a Christianized

Aristotelian, but rather an Aristotelianized Christian.

It would be fair to say then that one of Aquinas’ most important contributions to

Aristotelianism was that he helped to popularize and perpetuate the philosophy during a time when its ideas were often synonymous with controversy and even heresy; truly, in a civilization where Christianity was the unquestioned medium for all speculation, the philosophy of Aristotle could hardly have enjoyed its immense medieval influence had St. Thomas not tried to show that it could be tamed to serve theology.102 Ironically, Aquinas was attacked by many (especially the

Averroists) during his time for compromising the “true” meaning of Aristotle—for bending a

philosophy to fit a religion that it was never meant to accommodate, destroying it in the process.

History, however, largely remembers Aquinas for being a great mediator and for being a

thorough, sincere, and astute scholar. The truly impressive part of his achievement of yoking

Aristotle to Christianity is not just that he managed to do it, but is instead how he accomplished

it. On the topic of the soul, the problem he had to overcome was that Aristotle seems to argue

against the soul’s survival of the body’s death; Christianity had taken for its accepted dogma that

it certainly did. Thus, St. Thomas provided an explanation of the Aristotelian texts which kept

the definition of the soul as the act of the body, as required by Aristotle, and yet still considered

it a substantial form, capable of separate existence, as required by the Church.

Aristotle’s definition, Thomas thought, left no room for interpretation: all parts of the

soul—intellect included—comprise the act, or the form, of the body. Hence the soul could not be composed of both form and matter, since that would make it a complete being, having no

101 O’Connor, p. 4. 102 Ibid., p. 5. 46

need or even ability to be joined to another being.103 Thomas thus stands with Aristotle in saying

that the soul, by its very definition, is not complete in and of itself, but only as it exists in the

composite with the body. Nor is the soul merely the mover of the body, as in the Platonic

conception, for that which is a mover is external to the thing moved, and as we have established,

the soul is a force intrinsic to the whole body. The whole soul must give being to the whole

body, existing completely in every part of the body. Here, however, is where Thomas makes his

unique contribution: a brilliant redefinition of the Aristotelian notion of form. As the form of the

body, Thomas argues, the soul contains within itself its own act of existence. The property of

existence [esse] thus belongs to the soul itself, and is shared with the body, becoming the

property of the whole composite so long as the composite lasts.104 With the death of the body

and the dissolution of the composite, the property of existence simply reverts back to the soul

from which it had originally come. Thus the soul is not only a quo, the force by which the body

exists, the actualization of the potential inherent in matter, but also a hoc aliquid, a self- subsisting being.105 Put simply, Thomas sees no reason why the soul cannot have two modes of being: one as the actuality of the physical body within the context of the form/matter composite of the living human being, and another as a self-subsistent entity outside of that context.

This model contains a presupposition on Thomas’ part, in that he grants the esse of the composite to the soul (form), and not the body (matter). But it is not a supposition he fails to

defend: since the soul by definition is the actualization of the matter it shapes, it is the soul that

103 “...the real problem from the standpoint of St. Thomas is not how the soul can be immortal if it is the form of the body, but what it is that requires this union with the body. Clearly, if the soul is a subsistent form and the principle of the subsistence of the body, there can be no question concerning immortality, for it is the body that owes its existence to the soul, and not the soul to the body.” Pegis, pp. 169-70. 104 “The substantial union between soul and body requires...in the first place, that the soul, joined to the body as its form, should in this union give the body its substantial existence, and be to the body that principle by which it is called a being... The principle of existence must [also] be one for both component parts, and must be that by which the composite substance exists as a unit.” Ibid., p. 168. 105 Pine, p. 137. 47

provides the act of being to the otherwise inert, shapeless matter. In this way, the soul is both

necessarily non-corporeal and self-subsistent—linked with matter in the composite whole, but

immaterial nonetheless. Supporting his idea of the non-corporeal nature of the human soul,

Aquinas reminds us what anima means—that which makes living things live. With that in mind,

he argues that the soul cannot be something bodily: there must logically be some principle of life

that distinguishes living things from non-living things, and this cannot be a material body. The

reason for this is because if this “life principle” were material, it would follow that any material

thing would be living, which is quite obviously not the case. A body, therefore, is not alive

simply by virtue of its being a body. It is alive because of an immaterial principle of life that

itself is not a body.106 It is this immateriality of the soul that gives Aquinas his room to make the

case for its immortality.

The notion, however, that the soul possesses its own esse and is self-subsistent does not

necessitate that it is a complete and self-contained entity. In other words, that it is self-subsistent does not make it whole, per se. The human soul subsists because humans experience an intellectual life that cannot be reduced to what is simply bodily. It does not subsist in this case as something with its own life apart from the person, any more than any other integral body part.

Such parts, like a foot or an ear, can be spoken of as “things”, but they are essentially just incomplete parts of a complete individual. As Brian Davies illustrates: “One doesn’t say ‘my left hand feels’ or ‘my right eye sees’; rather, one says, ‘I feel with my hand’ or ‘I see with my eye.’

Aquinas thinks that something similar should be said about the soul.”107 However, St. Thomas

believes that since the human intellect operates non-physically—is immaterial—and since the soul is a forma dans esse [a form bestowing being], it can survive the death of the body for two

106Brian Davies, The Thought of Thomas Aquinas, pp. 211-2. 107 Ibid., p. 213. 48

reasons: first, the destruction of a physical body should not destroy a non-physical process,108

and, second, a form in and of itself is not capable of perishing. He must admit, despite the

logical implications, that there is no proof, strictly speaking, of the immortality of the soul.

Being the good theologian he is, Aquinas leaves the possibility of the soul’s survival up to

whether God has willed it to continue to exist. Of course, we as humans are not in a position to

prove that God must do that, and as such, immortality is only logically defensible—the realm of

faith is empirically indemonstrable.109

In sum, Thomas unites in a unique synthesis the Christian concept of the immaterial soul

with the Aristotelian notion of the form as the act of matter. Thomas’ model dictates that the

soul is no ordinary form; it has a very special nature. Because it receives its existence [esse]

directly from God at the moment of creation and is thus not produced from matter, the soul’s

existence is actually the property of the form; in other words, the form (here, the soul) contains

the act of existence. When the soul unites with the body in the form/matter composite, it is

merely sharing with the body its own act of existence. When the body dies, existence simply

reverts back to the soul from whence it came.110 So far, so good. But we are left at this point

with a rather pressing metaphysical question: Does the soul then even need the body? As a self-

perfected, self-subsisting form, it would seem joined to the body only incidentally [per

accidens], and not essentially or necessarily [per necessitatem]. Thomas’ answer, quite tidy and

incisive, is that the soul is joined to the body intrinsically and necessarily. The soul, he asserts, is

not a fully abstract form, and must seek divine truths in the physical world, taking advantage of

the body and all its sensitive and cogitative powers. In other words, the soul needs the body to

108 This is also one of St. Augustine’s defenses of immortality: When the body dies it is the living thing that perishes, not life. Augustine, De immortalitate animae, I.i.9.16 (as qtd. in Blum, p. 215). 109 Ibid., p. 216. 110 Pine, p. 138. 49

complete its works, and with the aid of sense it gains knowledge of higher things that it will

come to know more fully only after the separation from the body.111 Thus the soul, for Aquinas,

is joined with the body in composite per necessitatem and able to exist separately after the death

of the body only per accidens.

Thomas’ ingenious metaphysical compromise remained orthodox for hundreds of years.

However, Pietro Pomponazzi, while largely indebted to and respectful of the Saint, takes serious

exception to the central pillar of Aquinas’ legacy: the Saint’s compromise. What we find in

Pomponazzi is perhaps the ultimate Aristotelian: dedicated, shrewd, and decidedly

uncompromising.

Pietro Pomponazzi

Pomponazzi is profoundly interesting as the herald of the Renaissance. One cannot help

feel a certain sense of determinism when one regards Pietro Pomponazzi in light of his

predecessors—the feeling that it all was somehow meant to lead up to Pomponazzi, one of the

last and yet perhaps the best of the Aristotelians. At the time Pomponazzi was active, the turn of

the 16th century, the perennial problem of man’s nature still remained: the individual’s operations

and his conditions, and his unity in a single being. It had been long postulated by Aristotelian

philosophers and others that man’s nature is not simple but complex, not fixed but ambiguous—

midway between mortal and immortal, time and eternity. The age-old, unsolved question still stood awaiting an answer: how are these two natures combined in man? The person who solved

this dilemma of the dichotomous human nature was Pietro Pomponazzi. Called “the last

Scholastic and the first man of the Enlightenment,” he indeed exhibited characteristics

recognizable from both: from the Enlightenment, his fiery zeal against the theologians, his scorn

for all comfortable compromising modernism in religion (i.e. Thomas), and his concentration on

111 Ibid., p. 141. 50

the destiny of man; from scholasticism, his unquestioning adherence to the Aristotelian tradition

and his painstaking use of the medieval ratiocinative method. As the Renaissance median

between the two, he also possessed the typical spirit of his own age: its humanistic reverence for

man’s worth and dignity, its view of mankind as intermediary between heaven and earth, and its

reverence for the ancients.112

Pomponazzi was born in Mantua, Italy, in 1462. As a young man, he studied philosophy

at the northern Italian University of Padua, and upon graduating, became professor of natural

philosophy there from 1488 to 1509. In 1512 however, he accepted a professorship at the

University of Bologna, and taught there until his death in 1525. That means that though his

name is often almost synonymous with Padua, he actually composed and published his major works while in Bologna. Pietro Pomponazzi was apparently quite a character: he was often affectionately called Peretto or Perettus, (“little Peter”) on account of his short stature, and he evidently possessed a dry, somewhat caustic wit. He truly enjoyed philosophical and logical thought, often spinning out an argument and following it wherever it led. Out of intellectual honesty, he would sometimes throw up his hands and admit his genuine puzzlement in front of certain problems, or modify his views whenever he was confronted by some compelling oppositional argument. Though his style is rather quite arduous and meticulously scholastic, every so often his humanist streak would show itself in his tendency to share his personal thoughts and emotions. As Kristeller notes,

Thus we may well understand his famous outburst in the third book of the De fato (ch.7),

where he cites the mythical Prometheus as a prototype of the philosopher who, in the

course of his efforts to understand the secrets of God, is eaten up by his continuous

worries and thought, stops eating, drinking, and sleeping, is held up to ridicule by all,

112 Cassirer et al., p. 268. 51

taken as a fool and a faithless person, persecuted by the Inquisition, and laughed at by the

multitude.”113

In such a way, Pomponazzi presents not just his logical theories to the reader, but also presents

himself, in all his genuine humanity and vulnerability.

Despite any traces of humanism, Pomponazzi was a stalwart Aristotelian who vigorously opposed the reigning Averroism of the universities, as well as the reigning Thomism of the theologians. His singularity as a Renaissance philosopher consists in the fact that he is apparently uninfluenced by either the spiritual circumstances of his time, or by the new discovery of Platonic texts that inspires his contemporaries.114 However, he did introduce into

the traditionally scholastic arena of academia a new humanistic emphasis on the dignity and

worth of the individual soul. The influence of humanism upon Pomponazzi is evident in some of

the language and tropes he employs in his Tractatus, stating, much like his Platonic humanist

counterpart Ficino, that man is composed of a twofold nature, a mean between the mortal and the

immortal. Also, his position on human dignity is unmistakably humanist: man, or the soul of

man, is a mediator between the material and the spiritual worlds.115 The difference between

Pomponazzi and Ficino, however, lies in his conclusion: unlike Ficino who saw this mediatory

nature as evidence for immortality, Pomponazzi connects the human intellective soul to the

material world, and the inherent mortality that entails. Thus, where the Platonic humanists

113 Eight Philosophers of the Italian Renaissance, p. 78. 114 Douglas, introduction. Though this apparent separation of Pomponazzi from some of the currents of his time is widely reputed, it is by no means unanimous. Cassirer et al.: “Even the form of his writings reveals what he has absorbed from the Humanists and the Platonists.” p. 12. However, to my mind, this supposed Platonic influence is more likely just a humanistic influence, since the putative influence described in this quote is the conception of man as occupying a “middle place” in the universal hierarchy, which is not specifically a Platonic ideal, and is rather linked more strongly to the humanist belief in man’s dignity. Furthermore, his quoting of Platonic texts shows not necessarily an influence from Platonism, but rather gives credit to the humanist emphasis on appreciating and utilizing newly discovered ancient philosophical material. Quoting from material does not necessarily imply fealty to that material. 115 Blum, pp. 220-1. 52

celebrated the dignity of the individual soul by elevating it above nature, Pomponazzi made the

soul an inhabitant of a natural, orderly universe. In fact, it is not until the 18th century

Newtonians that there appears another figure who accomplishes so “modern” a blend of humanism and naturalism as Pomponazzi.116

As mentioned earlier, Pomponazzi rejects the baseless metaphysical abstractions of his

predecessors and instead focuses on explaining the soul and intellect as it exists in man, because

this the only state of these concepts that we have ever really experienced, and the only state

which is empirically observable. In short, Pomponazzi seeks to provide a naturalistic

explanation for the workings of the soul and intellect, without having to resort to the “magic” of

some unified divine Intellect or Scriptural revelation. This strict naturalism of mind and soul

was made possible only by conferring exclusive power upon the naturalistic view over the whole

of our experiences. Even human intellection, he believed, which had long been supposed to be

non-physical and a process of creative productivity, can only truly be understood when we have

reduced it to the same all-encompassing laws upon which the entire order of the world and

cosmos is based.117 However, we should not conflate his naturalism with “materialism,” an

adjective often used to describe him, yet which, because of his central belief in the immaterial

nature of the intellect, could not be much farther from the truth.

Furthermore, even the influence of God upon the world is carried out only through the physical medium of the heavenly bodies. Pomponazzi’s belief in causal astrology, as explained in his treatise De naturalium effectuum admirandorum causis sive de incantationibus, written four years after his Tractatus de immortalitate animae, dictated that the planets and stars are not only signs of divine will; they are God’s genuine and indispensable intermediaries. As a result,

116 Cassirer et al., p. 259. 117 Cassirer, p. 106. 53

astrological causality becomes for Pomponazzi the basic postulate upon which any explanation

of natural phenomena must be founded. Though it may seem paradoxical at first, Pomponazzi

had designed here a thoroughly “rational” astrology: the unconditional dominance of the stars

over everything on earth is asserted so that the absolute primacy of scientific, naturalistic reason may be guaranteed. In this case of his cosmological naturalism, Pomponazzi’s object is the same as it is in all his other philosophical works. He wants to trade “knowledge” for “belief”; he is striving for a purely natural, empirically demonstrable explanation, rather than transcendent, miraculous one.118 It is this aggressive, all-encompassing naturalism that Pomponazzi turns on

the Aristotelian conception of the soul.

Because of this, it is perhaps not hard to understand why Pomponazzi could not support

the immortality of the individual soul. His astute, unapologetic interpretation of Aristotle and his

naturalistic examination of the human experience told him that much. After all, the human is a

physical being, and even if a non-physical intellect was at work during thought, it relies on the

physical stratum of the human body as an object for its necessary functioning.119 There was no

way he could escape this conclusion. Truthfully though, Pomponazzi’s belief that Aristotle

argued against immortality wasn’t new, since Scotus had argued the same many years earlier, and the reigning Averroist interpretation of Aristotle taught only the impersonal immortality of the divine Intellect.120 Pomponazzi’s arguments against immortality are given a new

foundation—based on reason and experience, as well as Aristotle—which transforms them into arguments for mortality. In other words, Pomponazzi did not come down to us as a controversial figure because he argued against immortality, since he was not the first and certainly not the

118 Ibid., pp. 104-5. 119 Pine, p. 30. 120 Ibid., p. 1 54

only person to do so. He was so controversial because he argued for mortality.121 This

seemingly small, semantic distinction actually carries huge implications that those before him

had perhaps skirted to avoid the very sort of controversy that Pomponazzi found himself

embroiled in upon the publishing of his Tractatus.

Pomponazzi opens his major work on the soul with a seemingly clear-cut set of qualifications: “... if [the soul] be material, it is mortal; if it be immaterial, it is immortal.”122

Yet, after working over the question at some length with his distinctive scholastic thoroughness,

he ends up denying the immortality of the soul without denying its immateriality, thus evidently

betraying his own opening set of parameters. The current formula was that inseparability of the

soul meant materiality and corruptibility, while immateriality implied separability and potential

immortality. Pomponazzi, however, denied that the soul was separable from the body, and thus

denied the soul’s immortality, yet he regarded the soul—qua rationalis—as immaterial.123 It thus seems that he sets the parameters for the immortality of the soul as immateriality, yet once

he logically concludes that the soul is immaterial, he still holds for the soul’s mortality, and sets

about defending that conclusion. As will become evident shortly, it is probable that Pomponazzi

always meant to argue for the soul’s mortality, not just for philosophical (Aristotelian) reasons,

but also because it helped advance his model of human ethics. His metaphysical argument is

essentially that, yes, the intellective soul is immaterial, but it is not immortal because it relies inextricably on the human body as object, yet not as subject, for its operation; thus it is immaterial, yet not immortal. As such, though he sets qualifications which will apparently decide the outcome of his inquiry, he in fact finds what he always meant to find: that the human

121 “The denial of immortality would not of itself have been sufficient to bring so much attention upon his book; there were many then in Italy who denied immortality; but the position of Pomponazzi seemed so strong, and was so eagerly assailed, because of what lay behind it... ” [Namely, his irreligious model of ethics.] Douglass, p. 71. 122 Ibid., p. 98. 123 Ibid., p. 101. 55

soul is mortal. To understand how Pomponazzi arrived at these conclusions, and how he

developed his definition of the soul, which will be of great importance to the fragments at the

heart of this project, Utrum definito animae sit bene assignata? and Utrum anima rationalis sit

forma substantialis?, we will now turn to the relationship between the ideas of Pomponazzi and

those of his key predecessors.

Although the label of “Alexandrist” often attached to Pomponazzi is somewhat

misleading, we know from a fragment composed by Pomponazzi in 1504 that his view on the

problem of immortality of the soul was derived from Alexander’s.124 While undoubtedly

influenced by Alexander, Pomponazzi comes across as less dualistic in his concept of the

intellect—since Alexander had identified the intellect with God himself—and more humanistic

in his values than Alexander.125 Pomponazzi defends the position of Alexander, according to

which the human soul, having only one nature, is essentially [simpliciter] mortal, and only

relatively [secundum quid] immortal. Insisting once more on the middle position of man in the universe, Pomponazzi argues that the human intellect, unlike the pure intelligences, always needs the body for its object and has no way of acting without the help of the senses. Therefore it must

be considered simpliciter mortal. On the other hand, unlike the souls of animals, the human

intellect does not use the body as its subject—the body does not “create” the intellect. Therefore

it may be said to “participate” in immortality, or to be immortal secundum quid. This position,

claims Pomponazzi, is more probable than the others, and to be more in accordance with

Aristotle.126 Most importantly, though Pomponazzi followed Alexander in holding that logical

analysis discovered no manner of the soul’s existence in separation from the body, he did not, as

Alexander had, separate true intelligence from the soul of man as being something above it,

124 Kristeller, Eight Philosphers, p. 76. 125 Douglas, p. 5. 126 Kristeller, Eight Philosophers, pp. 80-1. 56

external and only visiting from without. Quite the reverse: Pomponazzi argued that man’s anima

rationalis possessed true intelligence in and of itself.127 As such, though he may have found

inspiration for his notion of man’s intermediary position in Alexander, and though he accepts

Alexander’s basic premise for the “participation” of the inherently mortal man in immortality

during intellection, he never follows Alexander in any real detail. Averroes, Thomas, and the

Latins—specifically the Stoics—are his major influences.128

Pomponazzi’s relationship with the Averroist school of Aristotelianism is more formative

to Pomponazzi’s own ideas, and far more contentious. To understand this relationship, it is

important to realize that Pomponazzi was in fact educated as a Thomist, and through most of his

teaching career, he lectured as a thoroughgoing Thomist against his Averroist rivals, Alessandro

Achillini, Antonio Fracanciano, and most notably Agostino Nifo, who would years later be the

first to polemically attack Pomponazzi’s major treatise. 129 However, his debates against his

Averroist rivals, especially against Fracanciano, began to shake his Thomistic foundation. His

Averroist opponents had at least managed to convince him that a forma informans et dans esse,

that is, a true substantial, self-subsisting form (the way that Thomas had conceived of the soul),

cannot be separable from the matter it enacts. Too proud to recant, and yet still too much of a

Thomist to convert fully to Averroism, he spent some time gathering and reformulating his

thoughts. The result of this reconstruction was his major treatise, the Tractatus de immortalitate

127 Douglas, p. 5. 128 Cassirer et al., p. 271. 129 Perhaps the case with any famous figure at the crossroads of opposing forces, commentators coming from both the Thomist and Averroist perspective have tried to claim Pomponazzi as their own, a man who then later defected to the other side. Hence here we have Cassirer et al. reporting that Pomponazzi was trained as a Thomist, who half- turned Averroist, and yet we also have Dag Nikolaus Hasse, in his essay, “Arabic philosophy and Averroism”, who claims that Pomponazzi was trained as an Averroist, who half-turned Thomist (pp. 119-20). However, perhaps Etienne Gilson says it best when, in closing his exposition of the Tractatus de immortalitate animae, he writes: “it is difficult to summarize positions so carefully calculated and, in a sense, so personal. Pomponazzi is a man who follows his own path, taking care above all to arrive at his conclusion, without worrying much either about conciliating others or contradicting them” (1961:194). Thus, our attempt to classify Pomponazzi as one thing or another at one time or another in his life may be in vain, because Pomponazzi himself was apparently disinterested in such labels. 57

animae. Pomponazzi, quite accurately speaking, was thus a Thomist half-converted to

Averroism. He consistently uses Thomas against the unity of Averroes’ intellect, and Averroes

against the separability and immortality of Thomas’ position.130

Pomponazzi quite thoroughly dismisses the Averroistic view of human nature. First, he

addresses and disassembles the Averroistic concept of the separate, independent intellect

[intellectus separatus] by arguing for the intellect’s need for the body as an object, requiring the body’s sensitive and cogitative capacities for its proper functioning; thus intellect, as we understand it, can never be regarded as separable. Secondly, Pomponazzi contemptuously waves aside the notion of the “unity of the intellect”, a single unified intellect in which all members of humanity partake. To this end, he uses the famous Thomistic refutation of Averroism: if the

intellect of Socrates were the same as that of Plato, both would have the same thoughts and

being. The unity of the intellect left no room for or explanation of different personalities,

individualities, or differences in opinions or levels of intellectual prowess between different people. Aristotle had never even dreamed of such nonsense, let alone believed in it. Nothing,

Pomponazzi believed, could be more ridiculous.131

However, as much as he came to deride the Averroistic notion of the unified intellect,

Pomponazzi could not help but accept the Averroistic stance on the inseparability of the human

soul from its body, which was in fact a thoroughly Aristotelian conclusion. He also readily

accepted Averroes’ doctrine of human thought as rational—though he disagreed with the

Averroes on the source of this rational thought. Here Pomponazzi returned to the spirit and

method of Aristotle, in that he pursued, not abstract speculations as to the nature of intelligence,

but an empirical analysis of the living and thinking soul, and as a result made reason an intrinsic

130 Cassirer et al., p. 270. 131 Pietro Pomponazzi, De Immortalitate Animae, Ch. V (Trans. J.H. Randall, p. 297 of Cassirer et al.) 58

property of the anima rationalis, which was a part of man himself, as opposed to being the

property of a supervening independent Intelligence extrinsic to man.132

Pomponazzi’s relationship with Thomism was less contentious than that with Averroism.

This is perhaps due to his own thoroughly Thomistic upbringing, and to the quality of thought

and goodness of intention he saw in Thomas’ interpretation. Even the project of his Tractatus

apparently had its roots in Thomas. Kristeller recounts that Pomponazzi “had stated in a class

lecture that Thomas Aquinas’ views on immortality, though perhaps true, did not agree with

Aristotle’s, and he was subsequently asked by a Dominican friar who was his student to express

his own opinion on the question, staying strictly within the limits of natural reason.”133 On the

surface, then, Pomponazzi was seeking not the truth per se, but rather the true Aristotelian

position. Many would argue this was simply due to his deep-rooted scholastic concerns; others,

like Martin Pine, would say that he simply uses the authority of Aristotle to advance his own

theory of mortality.

Pomponazzi believed that Thomas was right in taking the intellect to be the true form and

entelechy of the human body. He is wrong, however, in making it separable from matter and

capable of continuing existence after death. In order to refute Thomas’ metaphysical conception,

Pomponazzi saw immediately to the core of the issue and attacked Thomas’ doctrine of the soul

as a self-subsisting form, a forma per se. Once this definition is accepted as valid, he realized, everything else in the Thomist position follows quite naturally. Pomponazzi thus set about to deny the very premise of the argument. If properly defined in Aristotelian terms, he begins, form

cannot naturally be separated from matter. If this particular form is the actuality of this particular matter—if this soul is the basic actuality, the forma informans, of this man—it cannot

132 Douglas, p. 41. 133 Eight Philosophers, p. 79 59

be separated from him as a physical fact. The two are inextricably bound together in an organic

whole (like the wax and the impression) and will by extension perish together. Further, if we

admit that with the death of the individual the act of existence [esse] reverts back to the form

from which it originally came, we are faced with the logical difficulty that the same existence is

first grounded in one thing, and then later grounded in something else. 134 Simply put, the same

existence [esse] cannot logically be applied to two utterly separate kinds of existing; or rather,

one form cannot be the actuality of two fundamentally distinct beings.

This shall suffice for Pomponazzi’s metaphysics. However, of great importance to

understanding Pomponazzi’s controversial role in the Renaissance, and the reason why he has

managed to carve out a legacy among various groups of Enlightenment-types and free-thinkers

throughout history is not so much his brazen denial of human immortality (though this is

certainly a factor) as much as it is about the concept of virtue that he proposes at the end of his

Tractatus de immortalitate animae. After having made his case for man’s mortality,

Pomponazzi then goes on the offensive, attacking the doctrine of immortality (i.e. religion) as a fable to control the masses. He says that mortality preserves virtue better than immortality since virtue is weakened if it is supported by rewards. True virtue is independent of all promise of reward, so that even assuming the mortality of the soul—and thus the absence of the prospect of eternal reward or punishment—virtue retains its meaning. Pomponazzi does concede that the few individuals of truly philosophical temperament can perceive the intrinsic value of virtue, that virtue is in fact its own reward, and sin its own punishment. Most men, however, governed by their animalistic passions, need the prospect of eternal reward or punishment to keep them in line. This is why, Pomponazzi explains, religious lawmakers have invented the doctrine of immortality: not concerned with truth, they only desired to lead the sensuous masses to virtue by

134 Pine, pp. 148-9. 60

promising reward or threatening punishment in the afterlife. This attitude reflects Pomponazzi’s

apparent acceptance of Averroes’ concept of the relationship between philosophy and religion:

philosophy (the doctrine of mortality) provides man with absolute truth; religion (the doctrine of

immortality) gives man a practical ideology needed to establish social order. Thus Pomponazzi

asserts mortality while relegating immortality—and by extension religion—to the status of a

fable.135

Herein lies the controversy, the idea of Pomponazzi that drew the most fire from his

critics. It is one thing to simply assert that Aristotle argues one thing or another, or that some philosopher is wrong or right in his interpretation of Aristotle, or even that immortality is not logically demonstrable. It is another thing entirely to say that mortality is demonstrable, or that immortality is a fable crafted by scheming religious leaders to control the masses. Pomponazzi here goes above and beyond simply being a humble exegete of Aristotle. This set of assertions constitutes his true originality. He was in fact not only perhaps the most accurate interpreter of

Aristotle, but also a man who could marshal this deep understanding in order to advance his own unique, radical philosophical contribution to intellectual history. It is also not hard to hear the influence of the Stoics in the belief in virtue’s intrinsic reward, the Enlightenment cynicism toward organized religion, nor is it hard to hear Marx’s later rhetoric concerning religion as the

“opiate of the masses.” As such, Pomponazzi is simultaneously the last and the first of his kind, joining the best of his era’s philosophical past and present with intellectual movements that had only yet begun to appear on the philosophical horizon. In one decisive motion, then,

Pomponazzi severs the traditional bond that had hitherto yoked ethics to metaphysics. In this new ideal, each is completely independent of the other: our judgment concerning the value of human life—for which the humanist-influenced Pomponazzi actually has great respect—is not

135 Pine, p. 2. 61 dependent on our ideas concerning the continuation of that life after death. Similarly, as Cassirer notes, “the question of the value or non-value of our actions (ethics) must be considered from a point of view other than what caused these actions (metaphysics).”136

Finally, in an almost amusing gesture, Pomponazzi closes his major treatise, in which he has unapologetically and passionately argued for mortality and against the truth of religion, by stating that his argument and all its implications are for naught, because truth can only ultimately be decided by God and the revelation of Scripture.137 Traditionally, scholars have attributed this type of declamation of one’s own thoughts to the standard use of “double truth”, long favored by

Averroist philosophers to avoid conflict with the church; some have taken Pomponazzi at his word on this issue, noting that it is not impossible for a man to be both a philosopher and a sincerely religious person. Blum notes that, “Pomponazzi as a professor could endorse

Aristotle’s philosophical heresy while sharing his hidden faith in immortality, thus placing him in the chorus of ancient thinkers who secretly embraced pious wisdom.”138 While this is certainly possible, it does become unlikely in the case of a man whose philosophy is in fact centered around the inherent deception presented by religion. Had Pomponazzi ended his

Tractatus after the syllogistic metaphysical arguments that make up the first thirteen chapters of the book, this conclusion reached by Blum and others might have more merit. However, the fact that the first thirteen chapters, which serve to meticulously set up the case for human mortality, seem to exist largely to support his own theory of ethics—one which relies upon human mortality for its validity and derides religions for being essentially nothing more than structures for social order, reliant on the myth of immortality in order to function—makes Blum’s “benefit of the doubt” seem far less likely.

136 pp. 82-3. 137 See Pomponazzi, Tractatus de immortalitate animae, Ch. VX. 138 Blum, p. 223. 62

This is not to say Pomponazzi was an atheist—far from it. Remember, his notion of

causal astrology was a sincere attempt to provide a naturalistic model for God’s interaction with

the physical world. Certainly he also believed in the human soul. He simply denied its

immortality, and the value of man-made religion, which he saw more as a social power structure

than as a guardian or proponent of any sort of “truth”. Pomponazzi’s legacy thus extends far

beyond the bounds of the now-defunct field of Aristotelian metaphysics; his legacy is that of a

man who questioned authority. He was bold, skeptical, and pragmatic, yet he valued the inherent

dignity of man above all else. Perhaps what makes Pietro Pomponazzi so interesting is not that

we see in him a reflection of a time long past, but instead a reflection of our own.

Thus concludes our summary of the Aristotelian tradition, and of Pomponazzi’s unique

place within it. The following chapter will constitute the heart of this project, the translated

fragments entitled Utrum definitio animae sit bene assignata? and Utrum anima ratoinalis sit

forma substantialis?. As noted earlier, these fragments are of great interest because they deal

with Pomponazzi’s conception of the soul in the year or two directly prior to his publication of

his life’s major work on the soul. I am hugely indebted to Ulrich Harsch, a Professor of

Communications Design and Electronic Publication at the Fachhochschule Aubgsburg, who has

compiled an extensive collection of Latin texts which he has entitled "Biblioteca Augustana" and made available on the Internet. As part of this digital library, he has published electronic versions of some collections of shorter texts by Pomponazzi that were apparently prepared by a retired Professor of Philosophy, Burkhard Mojsisch. It appears that these texts are not available

in print, and have yet to be translated. Thus without the efforts of Professors Harsch and

Mojsisch, this project would have been impossible.

63

Translator’s Note

The scholastic Latin in which Pomponazzi wrote is a remarkable creation. After the fall

of the Roman Empire in the 5th century, Latin as an everyday language began to evolve—or devolve—into regional vernacular offshoots, recognizable today as the “Romance” languages:

Italian, French, Spanish, and so forth. However, Latin remained the official language of the

Church and of the universities; it was in a sense the “universal” language of the medieval period, which would allow a scholarly writer in France to be understood by his Italian and English counterparts. Thus, the language that had been cultivated for centuries by classical poets and rhetoricians possessed the inherent capability to be repurposed according to the needs of the new scholastic movement, and to become an instrument useful for expressing the thought of logicians and metaphysicians.

It is really the simplicity of syntax and the monotony of style which characterize scholastic Latin and differentiate it from the classical Latin from which it originated. One adds new arguments with item, dubitatur, patet, or probatur, modifies them with autem, and approaches conclusions with ideo or ergo, repeated mechanically and without end. The sort of logical argumentation central to scholastic thought required impeccable precision, but not the linguistic variation consistent with the classical standards of rhetorical eloquence. There is no use of imagery to enliven style; the austerity of thought demanded complete stylistic sobriety, save for the occasional demonstrative analogy. As a result, those who were enraptured by the

elegant rhythm Ciceronian eloquence, i.e. the humanists, found the repetitive concision of

scholastic Latin repulsive.

In the end, it was the humanistic ideal of originality and self-expression that would signal

the end of Latin’s useful life. The success of this Renaissance principle would prove disastrous 64

for Latin. Literary visionaries stopped expressing themselves in a language for which imitation

was the highest principle, and scholastic Latin’s rigorous normativism did not provide room for

much freedom of expression. Even the scholars and theologians later followed the humanists’

example, when they discovered the limits of the scholastic language. Thus Pomponazzi, who

was active on the very cusp of the Renaissance—at the turn of the 16th century—was writing in

what might be called Latin’s “Indian Summer.” After the Renaissance, Latin ceased to develop

altogether; it finally became what it has often been called: a dead language.

In light of this, I remained conscious of scholastic Latin’s “personality” as I made

translative choices. I aimed to replicate Pomponazzi’s original tone of scholastic

straightforwardness, dryness, and economy of words as I rendered his ideas into English, and in

translating his technical terms, referred to the long tradition of translating Aristotelianism into

English in order to make translative choices in line with those who have entered into this task

before me. In terms of my general translative philosophy, I paid special heed to Arthur

Schopenhauer’s words on translation, that “not every word in one language has an exact

equivalent in another,” and especially as it pertains to Latin, that, “the idea has to be dissolved

into its most basic components and then reconstructed in the new language.”139 As such, I

aspired to achieve what John Dryden refers to as paraphrase, in which the translator seeks to

accurately capture the “idea” or “spirit” of the piece, remaining as faithful to the original as

possible, while making the necessary linguistic modifications and concessions to produce a

translation that the author might have wrote, “had he written in English.” I attempted to avoid

succumbing to metaphrase, a literal word-for-word translation, which could have the effect of

turning perfectly good Latin into bad English. Conversely, I also endeavored to keep my poetic

139 Arthur Schopenhauer, “On Language and Words”, Theories of Translation, Ed. Rainer Schulte and John Biguenet, p. 33. 65

license in check by avoiding imitation, in which the translator essentially uses the original as

inspiration to generate his own original, which tends to have a somewhat dubious relation to the

original text.140 Throughout the translation I include footnotes explaining my translative

decisions for some of the more important terms and concepts.

140 For Dryden’s full explanation of paraphrase, metaphrase, and imitation, see Dryden’s “On Translation” in Theories of Translation, p. 17-31 66

III Utrum definitio animae sit bene assignata? 1. Visa definitione animae oportet examinare eam, et primo circa primam particulam dubitatur, utrum sit actus. 2. Et videtur, quod non, quia, si esset actus, esset forma. Sed anima non est forma. Ergo non est actus. Consequentia bona, quia est syllogismus destructivus. Antecedens patet, quia forma et actus idem sunt. Minor probatur, quia, si anima esset forma, vel substantialis vel accidentalis. Sed non est aliqua istarum. Ergo et cetera. 3. Quod non sit accidentalis, patet per Averroem II huius commento 2, ubi dicit, quod, secundum quod dat nobis prima cognitio naturalis, anima est substantia. Et etiam pars substantiae est substantia. Secundum probatur, quod non sit forma substantialis, sic: Proprium est substantiae in subiecto non esse; anima est in subiecto]; ergo et cetera. Maior patet ex Praedicamentis. Minor probatur, quia Aristoteles supra probavit animam non esse corpus, quia est in subiecto. Item proprium est substantiae per se stare et accidentibus substare. Sed anima non per se stat nec accidentibus substat. Ergo et cetera. Maior est nota ex Praedicamentis. Et minor probatur: Nulla enim est anima, quae per se stet, nec intellectiva. Unde dicitur in I huius, quod, si quis dixerit animam per se intelligere, est, ac si dicerem eam texere vel filare. Et hoc est in textu commenti 64. Et haec est prima quaestio, quam tangit Ioannes.

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On Whether the Definition of the Soul is Well-Assigned 1. Now that we have seen the definition of the soul,141 it will be necessary to examine it, primarily concerning the first part: there is doubt as to whether the soul is an act. 2. It appears that it is not, because if it were an act, it would be a form. But the soul is not a form. Therefore it is not an act. The conclusion is sound, because this is a destructive syllogism. The antecedent is clear, because form and act are one and the same thing. The minor is proven, because if the soul were a form, it would be either substantial142 or accidental.143 But it is neither. Therefore et cetera. 3. It is clear that it is not accidental from Averroes, in Book II, comment 2, where he said that following what first natural cognition gives us, the soul is a substance. Furthermore, a part of substance is substance. Second, it is argued that the soul is not a substantial form as follows: it is not characteristic of a substance to exist as dependent; the soul is dependent. Therefore et cetera. The major is clear from Aristotle’s Categories. The minor is proven because Aristotle earlier demonstrated that the soul is not a body, because it is dependent.144 Likewise, it is characteristic of a substance to subsist on its own [per se] and to be the ground of attributes. However, the soul does not exist per se, nor is it the ground of attributes. Therefore et cetera. The major is known from the Categories. The minor is also proven: for there is no soul which either exists per se or is intellective. Whence it is stated in Book I of this, if someone were to say that the soul thinks on its own, it would be as if I said that it also weaves or spins yarn. And this is in the text of comment 64. This is the first question, which John has touched upon.145

141 The definition of the soul he is referring to is Aristotle’s: The soul is “the first act of a physical organic body having in it the capacity for life.” De anima, II.i.412b. 142 The modern connotation of the word “substantial” can infer physicality—literally being made of physical “substance”. While this was one possible meaning of the term for Aristotle, it was not the only one: “Now there is one class of existent things which we call substance, including under that term, firstly, matter, which in itself is not this or that; secondly, shape or form, in virtue of which the term ‘this’ or ‘that’ is at once applied; thirdly, the whole made up of the matter and form.” De anima, II.i.412a. Further: “soul is substance in the sense that it is the form of a natural body having in it the capacity of life.” II.i.412a. Thus, even a form, which technically in-and-of itself does not exist (but by virtue of which something does exist) is considered by Aristotle a “substance.” In this case, “substantial” refers to “being the core of something’s essential being.” See Glossary: actus primus and forma substantialis. 143 Again, the modern connotation of the word “accident” needs to be overcome in order to grasp the scholastic Aristotelian meaning of the word. “Accidental” can mean something like “incidental” or “non-essential [to the core of something’s being]”. Therefore, an “accident” will either mean something incidental to the soul, or will come close to meaning “attribute”—a non-essential yet characteristic quality. 144 “...the body will not be the soul: for the body is not an attribute of a subject, it stands rather for a subject of attributes, that is, matter.” De anima, II.i.412a. 145 Probably John of Jandun, an early 14th century French Averroist Aristotelian. 68

4. Dubitatur secundo, utrum sit actus primus. Et videtur, quod non, quia ille non est actus primus, quem praecedunt aliqui actus. Sed animam in corpore multi actus praecedunt, tam substantiales quam accidentales. Ergo et cetera. 5. Prima patet, quia primo non datur prius. Hoc probatur dupliciter, primo, quia animam ipsam in corpore praecedunt actus essentiales et accidentales. Ergo et cetera. De accidentali patet, quia actus activorum sunt in patiente bene disposito, ut dicit Philosophus. Unde quomodo anima posset informare materiam, nisi illa esset bene disposita ut per debitas organizationes et per debitam proportionem qualitatum primarum? Item praecedunt in corpore animam multae formae substantiales tam partiales quam totales. Non enim est homo, nisi prius sit corpus et nisi sit cor et hepar et huiusmodi. Quis enim diceret omnia ista membra unica forma informari, cum habeant tam diversas operationes et complexiones. 6. Deinde dicit: Ponitur actus primus ad differentiam secundi. Hoc non est universaliter verum, quia anima sit actus primus, ut distinguatur contra secundum, quia, quando homo nutritur, in hoc non esset actus primus, quoniam in eo non est actus secundus. Quare ibi non esset actus primus. Et hic tangitur quaestio, quae tangitur ab Averroe commento 8. 7. Dubitatur tertio, utrum anima sit actus primus corporis. Et videtur, quod non, quia, si ipsa esset actus corporis, tunc esset accidens. Hoc autem est falsum. Ergo et cetera. Consequentia probatur, quia omnis forma adveniens enti in actu est accidens ex II De generatione textu commenti 4 et huius II. Anima autem est huiusmodi, quia per se advenit corpori, quod est in actu. 8. Dubitatur quarto super illud verbum “physici”, quia non videtur bene positum esse, quia in definitione substantiae non ponitur accidens. Sed li “physicum” ponitur in definitione animae, et anima est substantia. Ergo et cetera. Minor patet, quia, si loco “physici” ponitur sua definitio, quae est esse principium motus et quietis, tunc in definitione animae ponitur accidens.

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4. Second, there is doubt as to whether the soul is a first act. And it appears that it is not, because that which other acts precede is not a first act. But many acts precede the soul in the body, both substantial and accidental. Therefore et cetera. 5. First it is clear, for one, because the soul is not bestowed before all else. This is proven in two ways: first, because both substantial and accidental acts precede the soul itself in the body. Therefore et cetera. Concerning the accidental acts it is clear, because the acts of the active properties exist in a subject well-disposed to them, just as the Philosopher said. Whence, how would the soul be able to inform matter, unless the matter was well-disposed via the required configurations and by the required proportion of first properties? Likewise, many substantial forms precede the soul in the body, partial as well as whole. There exists not a man, of course, unless the body exists first, and unless exist both heart and liver and the things of this sort.146 Indeed, who would say that all those parts are given shape by a single form, when they have such diverse operations and associations? 6. Then he said: The first act is placed in opposition to the second. This is not universally true, because the soul is the first act, in order to be distinguished against the second. For when a man takes nourishment, in this there would not be a first act, since here there is not a second act. Therefore, in this case there would not technically be a first act. Here a question is raised which is touched upon by Averroes, in comment 8. 7. Third, there is doubt as to whether the soul is the first act of the body. And it appears that it is not, because if the soul itself were the act of the body, then it would be an accident. This however is false. Therefore et cetera. The conclusion is proven because every form coming to a being already in existence [in actu] is an accident, according to Book II of De generatione, in the text of comment 4, and in Book II of this. The soul, however, is this kind of accidental thing because it comes on its own to the body, which already exists.147 8. Fourth, there is debate surrounding that word “physical”, because it does not seem to be well used. “Accident” is not included in the definition of a substance. But “physical” is used in the definition of the soul, and the soul is a substance. Therefore et cetera. The minor is clear, because if in place of “physical” its definition is used instead, which is to be the principle of movement and rest, then “accident” is included in the definition of the soul.

146 Possibly a reference to the supposed forma corporeitatis. See Footnote 10. 147 See Footnote 10. 70

9. Item sublata ista particula “physici” non minus erit completa ista definitio animae. Ergo frustra ponitur. Consequentia patet, et antecedens probatur, quia dicunt, quod ponitur “physici” ad differentiam artificialium. Modo sufficit pro distinctione corporum artificialium “in potentia vitam habentis”, et est definitio completa. Vera autem definitio non continet superfluum, VIII Metaphysicae. 10. Dubitatur quinto circa illam partem “organici”, quia in definitione “organici” ponitur quantitas, qualitas et situs, quae sunt accidentia, quorum nullum debet poni in definitione substantiae. 11. Secundo anima est simplicior formis elementorum, cum magis accedat ad divinum. Ergo debet habere subiectum simplicius quam elementa. Quare non debet habere pro subiecto corpus organicum. Consequentia potest patere, quia nobilioris formae nobilius est subiectum. Quanto autem aliquid est simplicius, tanto nobilius est, quia magis accedit ad illud, quod est maxime simplex. 12. Tertio illa particula non competit omnibus, quia in aliquo est anima, quod non est organum, quia non sunt dissimilia in partibus suis, sicut homogenea sicut ossa et caro. 13. Item et quarto vel li “organici” vel li “in potentia vitam habentis” superfluit, cum omne organicum sit “in potentia vitam habentis” et e converso. Organicum enim est illud, quod potest exercere opera vitae. 14. Dubitatur sexto et ultimo circa illam partem “in potentia vitam habentis”. Videtur, quod non sit bene posita. Nam duplex est sensus istius propositionis, unus, quem dat sanctus Thomas et Aegidius, quod per corpus vivens in potentia intelligitur corpus, quod est in potentia ad ipsam animam, pro quanto corpus est compositum ex materia et forma corporeitatis, sive modo forma corporeitatis distinguatur realiter ab anima sive non.

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9. Likewise, if the term “physical” is rejected, the definition of the soul will be no less complete. Therefore it is placed in the definition needlessly. The conclusion is clear, and its antecedent is proven, because they state that “physical” is used to distinguish artificial things. For now, the phrase “having in it the capacity for life” suffices for a distinction of the artificial body, and is a complete definition.148 However, the true definition does not contain anything unnecessary: Book VIII, Metaphysics. 10. Fifth, there is debate surrounding that part “organic”, because in the definition of “organic”, quantity, quality, and location are included, all of which are accidental, and none of which should be placed in the definition of a substance. 11. Secondly, the soul is simpler than the forms of the elements, since to a greater extent it approaches the divine. Therefore, it must have a subject simpler than the elements, which means that it must not have an organic body as a subject. The conclusion can be clear, because it is the nobler subject of a nobler form. But the extent to which something is more unmixed, it is to that extent nobler, because to a greater extent it approaches that which is especially unmixed. 12. Thirdly, the term “organic” is not suitable for all things, because the soul resides within something, which is not an organ, because they are not dissimilar in their parts, just as homogeneous as bone and flesh. 13. As such, fourthly, either “organic” or “having in it the capacity for life” is superfluous, since every organic thing “has in it the capacity for life”, and vice versa. For an organic thing is that which is able to carry out the task of life. 14. Sixth and finally, there is doubt regarding the phrase “having in it the capacity for life”. This appears to not be stated well. For the sense of that statement is twofold: one, which Saint Thomas and Aegidius149 offer, that through a living body a potential body is known, which is potential with respect to the soul itself, insofar as the body is composed of matter and the form of corporeality150, whether this form can really be distinguished from the soul or not.

148 The words of Aristotle (in Latin): “in potentia vitam habentis”. This expresses a relation of matter to the actus of the soul, which is to live. As Anton C. Pegis states in St. Thomas and the Problem of the Soul in the Thirteenth Century, “This phrase then indicates the difference which characterizes some physical bodies, such as plants, animals, etc., as opposed to stones and the like. [...] In other words, the phrase...refers to the general relationship existing between soul and body, and shows at once whence the act of life comes and that it is the distinguishing mark of some bodies.” p. 106. 149 Aegidius de Lessinia, scholastic philosopher, pupil of Thomas Aquinas. 150 “Some philosophers...affirmed that the body is a substance in its own right, endowed with its own form, the forma corporeitatis or “form of corporeality.” Dennis Des Chene, Life’s Form, p. 84. Further: “The soul is a form transcending the common rank of body, and requires in matter a disposition and variety of organs that other forms 72

Secundus sensus est, quod anima sit actus corporis, prout corpus dicit compositum ex anima et ipso corpore, quod quidem est in potentia ad operationem animae. 15. In quocumque sensu accipiatur, non est bene posita. Nam primus sensus non est ad mentem Aristotelis, quia in textu commenti 10 dicit, quod anima est actus corporis in potentia non abiciente actum; modo pro te, o sancte Thomas et o Aegidius, illud non haberet animam, sed esset abiciens eam. 16. Si vero intelligatur in secundo sensu, tunc stat argumentum sancti Thomae contra hoc, quia idem vel definiretur per se ipsum, quod est falsum. Consequentia probatur. Regula est Aristotelis in VI Topicorum, quod, quando ponitur aliquis terminus in aliqua definitione, si loco illius termini ponatur, definitio erit clarior et expressior. Si ergo ponitur corpus animatum in definitione animae, sumatur definitio corporis animati, scilicet compositum ex anima et corpore. Et tunc patet consequentia. 17. Ulterius si ponitur corpus animatum in definitione animae, oportet intelligere illam partem “in potentia vitam habentis” ad opera vitae. Sed tunc non conveniret definitio omni contento sub definito. Probatur consequentia, quia non conveniret animae nutritivae, quae semper est in actu secundo nutritionis et numquam est in potentia ad actum nutritionis. Haec sunt argumenta facientia dubitationem. 18. In oppositum est Aristoteles, qui eam ponit, et omnes expositores eam approbant. Et non adduco aliam rationem nisi probationem Aristotelis, qui, cum divisisset ens in substantiam et accidens, assumpsit, quod anima est substantia. Et cum substantia sit triplex, scilicet materia et forma et compositum, assumpsit, quod anima est forma. Et cum perfectio sit duplex, scilicet prima et secunda, probavit, quod anima est prima perfectio et quod est actus corporis. Et tandem in textu 7 conclusit totam definitionem animae. Solum restat solvere argumenta in oppositum adducta.

do not; the soul, as such, therefore, does not give corporeal being, but presupposes it [to have been given] through another form.” p. 85. This would explain how the soul could actualize a body apparently already furnished with organs, yet it would also essentially make the soul an actus secundus, and thus a forma assistens and not informans, since the forma corporeitatis would in this case be the forma informans. Thomas, however, denies that any individual can have more than one form, and that the substantiality of the body is given to it by the soul. Pomponazzi here also disagrees with this theory, because it is “not the intention of Aristotle.” 73

The second sense is that the soul is the act of the body, just as he said the body is composed of the soul and the body itself, which indeed is potential regarding the operation of the soul. 15. In whatever sense it is accepted, it is still not well stated. For the first sense is not the intention of Aristotle, because in the text of comment 10, he says that the soul is the act of the body in a capacity which does not reject the act; presently according to you, Saint Thomas and Aegidius, that body would not have a soul, but would be rejecting it. 16. If it be truly understood in the second sense, then the argument of Saint Thomas stands against it, because the same thing would actually be defined in terms of itself, which is fallacious. The conclusion is proven. The rule is Aristotle’s in Book VI of the Topics, that, when a term is placed in some definition, if the definition of that term be set in place of it, the overall definition will be more clear and straightforward. Therefore if the animate body is placed in the definition of the soul, the definition of the animate body is assumed, namely to be composed of soul and body. And then the conclusion is clear. 17. Further, if the animate body is placed in the definition of the soul, it is necessary to understand that part “having in it the capacity for life” for the task of life. But then the definition would not be appropriate for everything contained under the thing defined. The conclusion is proven, because it would not suit the nutritive soul, which is always in the secondary act of nutrition and is never simply potentially the act of nutrition. These are the arguments causing doubt.151 18. In opposition is Aristotle, who states the following, and all the commentators agree with it. And I don’t propose another explanation if it is not a demonstration of Aristotle, who, since he had divided “being” into substance and accident, assumed that the soul is a substance. And since substance is trifold, namely matter, form, and composite,152 he assumed that the soul is a form.153 And since perfection is twofold, namely first and second, he demonstrated that the soul is a first perfection and that it is the act of the body. Finally in text 7, he concluded the total definition of the soul. It only remains to wave off the arguments proposed in opposition.

151 “In criticizing [the opposing theories] Pomponazzi maintains the Aristotelian standpoint, comparing each with the observed facts of human physical life, and guided by the formula “soul is the form of body” (anima forma corporis).” Douglass, p. 80. 152 De anima, II.i.412a. 153 “...soul...is the form of a natural body...” Ibid., II.i.412a. 74

19. Ad primum, cum dicitur, quod anima non est substantia, quia non per se stat, dimissis aliorum opinionibus et maxime Gregorii Ariminensis in I Sententiarum, qui tenet deum esse in praedicamento substantiae, dico, quod nec forma nec materia est in praedicamento, quia solum composita sunt in praedicamento, et quod substantia divisa superius est analoga, non praedicabilis, tunc dico, quod argumentum peccat per fallaciam aequivocationis, quia, cum Aristoteles dixit, quod proprium est substantiae in subiecto non esse, intelligitur de substantia praedicabili eo modo, quo anima est substantia. Similiter dicitur, quando arguitur, quod substantia substat accidentibus. 20. Ad secundum principale, quando dicitur, quod anima non est actus primus, quia eam alii actus praecedunt in materia, in qua habet recipi, hoc argumentum est difficile et magnam exigit dubitationem, quae talis est: utrum aliquod accidens praecedat formam substantialem in materia.

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19. As to the first, since it is said that the soul is not a substance because it does not subsist per se, having dismissed the opinions of others—especially that of Gregory of Rimini in Book I of Sentences, who holds God to be in the category of substance—I say that neither form nor matter is in a category, because only combined are they in a category, and that the substance divided above is analogous, not categorizable. Hence I say that the argument blunders through the fallacy of equivocation, because, since Aristotle said that it is not characteristic of a substance to be dependent, it is understood to be a categorizable substance this way, that the soul is a substance. Similarly it is said, when it is argued, that a substance is the ground of attributes. 20. As to the second principal thing, when it is said that the soul is not the first act, because other acts precede it in the matter in which it has to be received, this argument is difficult and requires great doubt, which is as follows: whether some attribute might precede a substantial form in matter.154

154 Pomponazzi here shows his characteristic (and quite humanistic) tendency to show his consternation before a difficult question. Since these commentary fragments were never meant to be formally published, but instead served as a means for brainstorming, refining, and outlining his evolving argument in preparation for the composition of his major work, Pomponazzi sometimes runs up against a problematic issue, and then either ends the discussion (as here) or redirects the flow of his investigation and moves past it. 76

Utrum anima rationalis sit forma substantialis? 1. Ista quaestio est difficilis: Ex quo anima rationalis est separata a materia ad mentem Aristotelis et Averrois una numero? Est quaestio, an haec anima rationalis sit forma substantialis itaque det esse ipsi homini velne. 2. In hac quaestione est duplex modus dicendi. Primus fuit Alexandri VIII Physicorum textu 52, ut citat Simplicius solvens ibi dubitationem, quia dicit Aristoteles, quod formae caelestes non moventur motu corporum caelestium, neque per se neque per accidens. Dubitat Alexander, quia formae caelestes sunt in suis orbibus eodem modo ut formae corporales in corporibus. Sed animae istorum corporum sensibilium moventur saltem per accidens, ita et formae caelestes moventur per accidens motu suorum orbium. 3. Alexander dat duas solutiones, ut dicit Simplicius, quia non vidi Alexandrum, sed Simplicius citat eius verba. 4. Primam solutionem omitto. 5. Secunda vero solutio est ista: Istae formae caelestes sunt in suis orbibus, sicut istae inferiores formae sunt in suis corporibus, quia istae formae inferiores sunt in suis corporibus ut formae. Formae vero caelestes non sunt sic in suis orbibus ut formae. Ideo non moventur, neque per se neque per accidens, motu suorum orbium, et ita debemus dicere de anima rationali, sicut dicitur de anima caelesti secundum Alexandrum. Istae vero formae inferiores moventur motu sui corporis, quia sunt in ipsis ut formae.

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On Whether the Rational Soul is a Substantial Form 1. This question is difficult: From where do we have it that the rational soul is separated from matter in the opinion of both Aristotle and Averroes? The question is this, or whether this rational soul is a substantial form, and thus would give esse to man himself, or not. 2. In this question there is a twofold way of speaking. The first was Alexander’s, in Book VIII of Physics, in text 52, where Simplicius cites him155, thereupon solving the uncertainty, because Aristotle says that the celestial forms are not moved by the motion of the celestial bodies, neither on their own, nor by accident. Alexander is doubtful, because the celestial forms are solely in their spheres, in the same way that bodily forms inhabit bodies. But the souls of these perceptible bodies, at any rate, are moved by accident, just as the celestial forms are also moved by accident by the motion of their spheres. 3. Alexander provides two solutions, as Simplicius has stated, because I have not seen Alexander, though Simplicius has cited his words. 4. I omit the first solution. 5. But the second solution is this: The celestial forms are in their spheres just as inferior forms are in their bodies, because these inferior forms are in their bodies as forms. In truth, however, the celestial forms are not in their spheres like this as forms. Therefore they are not moved, either on their own or by accident, by the motion of their spheres.156 And in such a way must we speak of the rational soul, just as is said of the celestial soul according to Alexander. In truth, these inferior forms are moved by the motion of their body, because they are in these as forms.157

155 6th century Greek Neoplatonic philosopher, whose entire body of work consists of commentaries on Aristotle. He made extensive use of Alexander’s commentaries. Much of what Pomponazzi knows about Alexander apparently came secondhand, via Simplicius. 156 “...the superior Intelligences were also to be regarded as in a sense the informing souls of the spheres to which they belonged. Only the difference between them and the human soul was that the act of intelligence in them did not depend in any way upon the physical spheres to which they were related only as the motor is to that which is moved...” Douglas, p. 125. See also De imm. IX. 157 De Anima, I.iv.408b: “From what has been said it is clear that [the soul] can, as we have seen, move and set itself if motion: for instance, the body in which it is may move, and be set in motion by the soul: otherwise it cannot possibly move from place to place. [And yet] From the foregoing it is clear that the soul is incapable of motion; and, if it is moved at all, clearly does not move itself.” 78

6. Haec fuit opinio Alexandri et Avicennae, et communiter attribuit Averroi sanctus Thomas II Contra gentiles 1 parte quaestione 15 articulo 4 et Gregorius Arminensis et Ioannes et omnes attribuunt istam opinionem Averroi, et citat Thomas verba Averrois, quia supra in hoc III commento 5 dicit, quod intellectus possibilis non unitur homini nisi per phantasiam. Quare per solam operationem unitur homini. Ergo non est eius forma substantialis. 7. Ista opinio etiam attribuitur Platoni in Alcibiade, qui dicit, quod homo est anima utens corpore, non autem dicit, quod sit aggregatum ex anima et corpore, quibus verbis Aristoteles saepe alludit in Moralibus. Dicit enim: “Verus homo est intellectus, qui perspicuus est in nobis.” Et ita haec opinio est antiqua, non autem nova neque finxerunt eam Avicenna et Thomas, sed etiam fuit apud antiquos, ut Alexandrum. Plato vult, quod nulla substantia separata a materia sit forma dans esse corporibus ita, quod duplex est forma, una secundum esse et operationem, ut vegetativa et sensitiva, quae dant esse corpori et operationem; alia est forma, quae non dat esse, sed operationem tantum – aliis verbis vocantur forma assistens et forma informans; forma assistens est, quae dat tantum operationem, forma informans, quae dat operationem et esse. 8. Pro hac opinione sunt fundamenta: primum ex Aristotelis II 21, ubi dicit Aristoteles: “Anima rationalis nullius corporis est actus.” Secundum, quia II Metaphysicae 35 contra Platonem dicit: “Nullum aeternum est forma rei generabilis et corruptibilis.”

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6. This was the opinion of Alexander and Avicenna158, and Saint Thomas attributed it jointly to Averroes in book II Contra gentiles part 1, question 15, article 4; Gregory of Rimini and John, and all attribute this opinion to Averroes. Thomas cites the words of Averroes, because above in Book III, comment 5, he says that the potential intellect is not united to man unless by means of imagination.159 Thus, it is united to man through operation alone. Therefore it is not his substantial form. 7. This opinion is also attributed to Plato in The Alcibiades, who says that man is a soul using a body;160 however he does not say that man is an aggregate of a soul and a body, which words Aristotle often alludes to in The Ethics. For instance, he says: “True man is intelligence, which is manifest in us.” And thus this opinion is old, not new, nor originated by Avicenna and Thomas; it was even in the writings of ancients like Alexander. Plato intended that no substance separated from matter would be a form bestowing esse on bodies in this way, and that form is dual: one according to being and operation, such as vegetative and sensitive, which give esse as well as operation to the body; the other is a form which does not bestow esse, but operation only—in other words, these are known as the forma assistens [assisting form] and the forma informans [informing form]: a forma assistens is that which bestows only operation; a forma informans is that which bestows operation as well as esse.161 8. In favor of this opinion are the foundations: first from Aristotle, Book II, 21, where Aristotle says, “The rational soul is the act of no body.” Second, because in Book II of Metaphysics 35, he says against Plato: “The form of a generable and corruptible thing is nothing eternal.”

158 11th century Persian philosopher, often associated with the Islamic Aristotelian movement, but who was actually rather Platonic in his thinking on the separability of body and soul. 159 De anima, III.vii.431a: “To the thinking [rational] soul, images serve as present sensations...” Thus, it would seem that the imaginative faculty is tantamount to the sensitive faculty, which most all agree to be mortal. Further, from Schute’s The Psychology of Aristotle, “It is very clear, as we have seen, that the functions of the mind depend upon the activities of sense [phantasms, i.e.].” p. 127. 160 Pomponazzi’s discussion of the Platonic conception of man as “a soul using a body” survives intact in De imm. V, where he declares that such a concept is totally opposed to Aristotle’s and entirely compromises the unity of human nature. See also Footnote 29. 161 “A forma informans unites ‘substantially’ with matter, which apart from [the forma informans] is unspecific, potentially anything, [therefore] the thing to which a forma informans is joined is an incomplete substance... The thing to which a forma assistens is joined is complete, like a car without a driver... The forma assistens [only] ‘operates’ on the body it is joined to... The term forma assistens is applied to celestial intelligences that drive the heavens according to De caelo. Their relation, as purely spiritual beings, to the material spheres can only be extrinsic. The spheres are complete substances, as are the intelligences. The relation between them brings about no new substance, but only the accident of locomotion.” Dennis Des Chenes, Life’s Form: Late Aristotelian Conceptions of the Soul, p. 77-8. 80

Tertium: Si ponatur anima rationalis forma substantialis hominis, sequeretur, quod pes et manus intelligerent et quaelibet pars hominis intelligeret, quod est falsum et contra communem modum loquendi. Quod autem hoc sequatur, ostendo, quia omne compositum ex anima rationali intelligit, quia ibi est intellectio. 9. Si ergo forma rationalis informat totam materiam hominis, ergo est in qualibet eius parte. Ergo quaelibet pars intelligit. Ergo sic dicuntur pes et manus intelligere, sicut homo dicitur intelligere, quod est falsum. Tum etiam sequitur, quod idem indivisibile simul reciperet contradictoria. Patet, quia quiescente manu pes movetur, et ex quo anima rationalis eadem informat manum et pedem, idem numero quiescit manus quiescente pede et movetur eadem pede moto. Ergo movetur et non movetur, quia omnis forma movetur moto subiecto eius et omnis forma quiescit quiescente illo. Quartum et difficilius, quia secundum Peripateticos praeter animam rationalem in homine est alia anima, scilicet sensitiva. Si ergo Peripatetici ponunt animam sensitivam in homine praeter rationalem, et sensitiva est perfectior vegetativa. Perfectius ergo dat esse quam vegetativa. Ergo homo per ipsam habet perfectum esse. Ergo intellectus superveniens non est forma eius, quia non dat esse. Quodsi sic, esset accidens, quia omnis forma adveniens enti in actu est accidentalis, quia ille actus est completus et substantialis, ut dicitur. Et sic istis et aliis argumentis plures respondent secundum mentem Aristotelis et Averrois, quod anima rationalis et non tantum anima rationalis, sed quaelibet forma caelestis non sit forma substantialis dans esse corpori, sed tantum sit forma assistens et dans operationem, non autem dans esse. 10. Sed contra insurgit divus Thomas Contra gentiles II, ubi discutit hanc materiam et ait: “Anima rationalis est anima; si anima, ergo actus primus corporis ex definitione universali animae data ab Aristotele; ergo si est anima, est forma substantialis hominis et corporis humani.”

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Third: if the rational soul is argued to be the substantial form of man, it follows that a foot and a hand may think, and any part whatsoever of man may think, which is false and contrary to the common way of speaking. However, I point out what follows this, because everything composed of a rational soul thinks, because therein is intellection. 9. If therefore the rational form informs all the matter of a man, consequently it is in every part of him. Therefore every single part thinks. Therefore as the foot and hand are said to think, so too man is said to think, which is false. Then it also follows that the same indivisible thing would simultaneously partake in contradictory things. This is evident because the foot would be moved by the resting hand, and from the fact that the same rational soul informs both the hand and the foot, the same rests the hand with the resting foot, and the same moves with the foot having been moved. Therefore it is moved and not moved, because every form is moved by the motion of its subject, and every form rests with the resting subject.162 Fourth, and more difficult, because according to the Peripatetics beyond the rational soul in man is another soul, namely the sensitive. If therefore the Peripatetics place the sensitive soul in man beyond the rational, and the sensitive is more perfect than the vegetative, it therefore bestows life more perfectly than the vegetative. Therefore, through it, man has a perfect being. Therefore the supervening intellect is not his form, because it does not bestow esse. But if this is the case, the rational soul would be an accident, because every form coming to a body in actu is accidental, because that act is complete and substantial, just as it is said. And as such, more people respond to these arguments and others, in keeping with the intention of Aristotle and Averroes: that the rational soul, and not just the rational soul, but also any celestial form, is not a substantial form bestowing being on the body, but is only a forma assistens, and bestows operation, yet not, however, esse.163 10. But in opposition rises the divine Thomas, in Contra gentiles, Book II, where he discusses this material and says: “The rational soul is a soul; if it is a soul, therefore, it is the first act of the body based on the common definition of the soul given by Aristotle. Therefore, if it is a soul, it is the substantial form of man and of the human body.”

162 De anima, I.iv.408.b. 163 See Randall’s discussion of Averroes on p. 262 of Cassirer et al.: “[The rational soul] cannot therefore be the form or entelechy of any particular body, joined to and subject to that body’s matter; that would make it a ‘material form.’ It is not united to the body save in conferring upon it the function of knowing.” 82

Probatur consequentia, quia dicit Aristoteles, quod anima est actus corporis primus; si est actus corporis primus, ergo principium essendi, quia actus primus est principium essendi, actus vero secundus est actus operandi. Et ideo anima sensitiva dicitur actus primus, quia dat esse corpori, dicitur autem secundus, quia dat operationem. Ideo si virtus rationalis est anima, ergo est forma substantialis, quia est actus primus, qui est principium essendi distinctum a principio operandi. 11. Secundo probatur consequentia, quia anima rationalis est anima; sed anima est, qua vivimus, sentimus et cetera; ergo anima rationali vivimus. Sed “vivere viventibus est esse” ex Aristotele ex isto II. Ergo per animam rationalem corpus humanum habet esse, quia anima rationali corpus humanum vivit et “vivere viventibus est esse”. 12. Secundo unius per se operationis est unum per se operans; sed intellectio per se est una operatio, ergo unum per se operans; homo autem est unum per se ens et non aggregatione, sicut navis et nauta; si ergo homo est unum per se ens non aggregatione, necesse est, quod una eius pars se habeat ut materia, alia vero ut forma informans illam, quia numquam ex duobus in actu fit unum per se, nisi unum se habeat ut forma informans, aliud ut materia. Ex navi enim et nauta non fit unum, quia unum non est ut forma, aliud ut materia, sed fit unum aggregatione. Homo vero est unum per se ens. 13. Tertio arguit divus Thomas De caelo, quod caelum est animatum, ergo intelligentia est eius anima. Ergo si est eius anima, sicuti etiam prius dicebat, est forma substantialis, quia omnis anima est forma substantialis, tum quia est actus primus ex definitione universali animae, tum etiam quia anima est, qua vivimus, et “vivere viventibus est esse”.

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The conclusion is proven, because Aristotle says that the soul is the act of the body; if it is the first act of the body, it is therefore the principle of being, because the first act is the principle of being, but the second act is the act of operating. And therefore the sensitive soul is said to be the first act,164 because it bestows esse on the body; however is also said to be the second, because it bestows operation. Therefore if the power of reason is a soul, therefore it is a substantial form, because it is a first act, which is the principle of being, distinct from the principle of operating. 11. Second, the conclusion is proven because the rational soul is a soul; but the soul is that by which we live, feel, et cetera.165 Therefore we live by the rational soul.166 But “the being of living things is that they live”,167 from Aristotle from that book, Book II. Therefore the human body possesses esse through the rational soul, because the human body lives by the rational soul, and “the being of living things is that they live”. 12. Secondly, for one operation per se, there is one thing operating per se. But intellection per se is a single operation, therefore there is a singular thing operating per se. However, a man is a singular thing existing per se, and not by an aggregation like the sailor and the ship; if therefore a man is a singular thing existing per se, not by aggregation, it is necessary that one part of him hold itself as matter, and another as form giving shape to it, because a singular entity per se is never made from two already existing entities, unless one thing holds itself as a forma informans, the other as matter. For a single entity is not made from the sailor and the ship, because one of those two is not like form, and the other not like matter, but is only made singular by aggregation. In truth, man is a singular entity existing per se.168 13. Third, the divine Thomas argues in De caelo that heaven is animate; therefore intelligence is its soul. Therefore if it is its soul, as he has also said before, it is a substantial form, because every soul is a substantial form, because it is a first act from the common definition of the soul, and also because the soul is by which we live, and “the being of living things is that they live”.

164 Ibid., II.iv.416b. 165 Ibid. II.ii.414a, “The soul is that whereby primarily we live, perceive, and have understanding...” 166 This foundational argument of Pomponazzi’s concerning the nature of the intellective soul survives unmolested in his Tractatus de immortalitate animae: “Soul is the actuality of a natural organic body, etc. Therefore intellectual soul is the actuality of a natural organic body.” De imm. Ch. IV. 167 Ibid. II.ii.413a, “It is life which distinguishes the animate from the inanimate.” 168 Douglas, The Philosophy and Psychology of Pietro Pomponazzi: “[Pomponazzi] points out that two independent identities, such as body and soul were by [Plato’s] theory supposed to be, do not make one composite being in the true sense of the word.” pp. 85-6. 84

Ergo anima est forma substantialis. Quod autem caelum sit animatum, patet per Aristotelem II Caeli, primo, quia in ipso sunt sex differentiae positionis distinctae ex natura rei: dextrum, sinistrum, sursum, deorsum, ante et retro, sicut sunt illae differentiae distinctae ex naturae rei in hominibus, sed in nullo sunt illae differentiae distinctae in animali. In reliquis sunt reflexivae, non autem distinctae ex natura rei. Sed ex Aristotele II Caeli differentiae positionis ex natura rei sunt in caelo. Ergo caelum est animatum. 14. Amplius VIII Physicorum nihil movetur ex se nisi animal, quia reliqua moventur ab extrinseco, ut a generante, sed caelum movetur ex se. Est enim caelum primum mobile et primum motum in natura; ergo est animatum. Et non tantum est animatum, sed est animal, non sensu, sed intellectu et appetitu. Ergo intelligentia est eius forma et anima; si eius forma et anima, ergo est principium essendi, ergo forma substantialis, quia omnis anima est actus primus et actus primus est principium essendi, ergo tum quia anima est, qua vivimus et sentimus, sed “vivere est viventibus esse”. 15. Ideo est secunda opinio theologorum, quod anima rationalis est forma substantialis hominis et corporis humani. De corporibus caelestibus fuit problema. Maior tamen pars convenit, quod caeli sunt quanti et etiam sunt animalia. Ideo est decretum pontificale, quod haereticus censetur, qui credit, quod anima rationalis non sit forma substantialis hominis et corporis humani. 16. Ex alia tamen parte est opinio, quae imponitur Averroi, Avicennae, Alexandro et Aristoteli. Et quaestio non est de veritate huius rei – patet –, sed quaestio est de mente philosophorum. Alias ego fui dubius et perplexus de hac difficultate. Nunc mihi magis placet ea pars, scilicet quod forma substantialis hominis sit anima rationalis et dans ipsi homini esse et operationem et sit forma informans, non tamen assistens. Ideo sustinendo istam partem dico etiam, quod est opinio Averrois neque habeo ex Aristotele expresse ex aliquo loco, quod hoc neget et dicat tantum animam rationalem assistere et dare operationem, non autem informare et dare esse. Et ideo dico, quod haec potest esse opinio Aristotelis.

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Therefore the soul is a substantial form. That heaven is animate, however, is clear through Aristotle, Book II of De caelo, first, because here there are six distinct differences of position from the nature of a thing: right, left, upwards, downwards, in front of, and behind, just as there are these distinct differences from the nature of the thing in humans; but in no regard are there these differences distinct in animals. In the remaining, they are reflexive, however not distinct from the nature of the thing. But from Aristotle, Book II of De caelo, the differences of position from the nature of the thing are in heaven. Therefore heaven is animate. 14. Furthermore from Book VIII of the Physics, nothing is moved by itself unless it is an animal, because the remaining things are moved extrinsically, as by generating, but heaven is moved by itself. In fact, heaven is the first moveable and first moved in nature; therefore it is animate. And it is not only animate, but is a living being—not sensing, but thinking and desiring. Therefore intelligence is its form and its soul. If it is its form and soul, then therefore it is the principle of being, and therefore a substantial form, because every soul is a first act, and a first act is the principle of being; therefore, then, because it is a soul, by which we live, but also “the being of living things is that they live.” 15. For that reason, it is the second opinion of the theologians that the rational soul is the substantial form of man and of the human body. Concerning the celestial bodies, there has been a problem. Nevertheless the greater part agrees that the heavens are multiplied and are also animate beings. For that reason there is a papal decree that he is judged a heretic, who believes that the rational soul is not the substantial form of man and of the human body. 16. Nevertheless from the other side is the opinion, which is attributed to Averroes, Avicenna, Alexander, and Aristotle. And the question is not about the truth of this matter— clearly—but about the intention of the philosophers. At other times, I was doubtful and perplexed on this difficulty. Now this part pleases me more, namely that the substantial form of man is a rational soul and bestows man himself with being and operation and is a forma informans, not simply assistens.169 For that reason, by upholding that part, I say also that it is the opinion of Averroes, (and I do not have this notion from Aristotle expressly in any passage) that he denies this and says that the rational soul only assists and bestows operation, yet does not however inform and bestow being. Thus I say that the former can be the opinion of Aristotle.

169 Here, by adhering to the strict sense of Aristotle’s definition, Pomponazzi aligns with St. Thomas on the nature of the rational soul qua soul. 86

17. De Alexandro, qui dicit, quod animae caelestes non informant eo modo, quo istae animae corruptibiles, videlicet sensitiva et vegetativa, quia istae informant, quia sunt causatae a materia eductae de potentia eius, et sic percipiuntur a corpore. Formae vero non isto modo informant, quia non sunt causatae a materia nec eductae de eius potentia. Videtur tamen dicere Alexander, quod nullo modo formae caelestes informent, quia vult ipse evadere difficultatem, quomodo, si informant, non moventur, saltem per accidens, motu sui orbis, quod tamen negat Aristoteles. Et nescit Alexander evadere difficultatem. Ideo dicit, quod nullo modo informant. 18. Ista tamen opinio Alexandri non confutatur a Simplicio ibi VIII Physicorum, et sic dico, quoa Alexander fuit huius opinionis, quod non informent. Etenim Avicenna sequitur Alexandrum, et sic forte opinio imposita Averroi fuit potius Avicennae quam Averrois. Et ideo dico, quod illa fuit opinio Alexandri et Avicennae. 19. Sed mihi magis placet opinio diversa ab hac, scilicet quod anima sit forma substantialis hominis et sic informet et det esse, quia est actus primus ex definitione universali de anima data ab Aristotele. Sed actus primus est principium essendi, non operandi, et in hoc distinguitur ab actu secundo, quia actus secundus tantum dat operationem, non esse. Ideo dicit Aristoteles: “Anima est actus primus corporis.” Tum etiam quia anima est, qua vivimus. 20. Si quis tamen vellet defendere aliam opinionem, scilicet quod anima rationalis tantum det operationem et assistat, non autem informat, patet. Neque enim sunt demonstrationes in illis rebus. In ista enim definitione universali potest unusquisque dicere suo modo, quia non sunt demonstrationes in istis. 21. Sustinendo istam opinionem dico ad argumenta in oppositum. Ad primum. Cum arguitur ex Aristotele II huius 21: “Anima rationalis nullus est actus”, dico, sicut saepe dixit Averroes exponendo illum locum “anima rationalis” et cetera, id est univoce et eodem modo, quo anima vegetativa et sensitiva est actus corporis, quia vegetativa et sensitiva sunt actus, qui perficiunt corpus et inde perficiuntur, quia causantur a materia et extensione materiae et utuntur organo corporali. Anima rationalis perficit corpus, non autem perficitur.

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17. Alexander says that the celestial souls do not inform in this way, the way these corruptible souls do, namely the sensitive and vegetative, because they inform, and because they were caused by matter and drawn forth from its potential; as such they are subsumed within the body. In truth, forms do not inform in this way, because they are not caused by matter nor drawn forth from its potential. Yet Alexander appears to say that the celestial forms do not inform in any way, because he himself wishes to escape the quandry of how, if they do inform, they are not moved, by accident anyhow, by the motion of their spheres, which nevertheless Aristotle denies. And Alexander does not know how to escape the difficulty. Therefore he says that they do not inform in any manner. 18. However this opinion of Alexander is not refuted by Simplicius there in Book VIII of his Physics, and for this reason I say that Alexander was of the opinion that they do not inform. For truly Avicenna follows Alexander, and as such, by chance the opinion imposed upon Averroes was Avicenna’s rather than Averroes’ own. And therefore I say that this was the opinion of Alexander and Avicenna. 19. But an opinion different from this one pleases me more, namely that the soul is the substantial form of man and as such informs and bestows being, because it is the first act from the common definition of the soul given by Aristotle. But the first act is the principle of being, not operating, and in this it is distinguished from the second act, because the second act bestows only operation, not being. Therefore Aristotle said, “The soul is the first act of the body.” Then also because the soul is that by which we live. 20. However, if someone would like to defend the other opinion, namely that the rational soul only bestows operation and assists, however does not inform, the way is open. For truly there are not proofs in these matters. For in this common definition, each one can speak in his own way, because there are not proofs in this. 21. In upholding this opinion, I say to the opposing argument: First, since it is argued from Aristotle in Book II of this 21: “The rational soul is no act”, I say, just as Averroes often said explaining that passage “rational soul” and so forth, that it is univocally and in the same way that the vegetative and sensitive soul is the act of the body, because the vegetative and sensitive are acts, which perfect the body and thence are perfected, because they are caused by matter and by extension of matter, and they employ a bodily organ. The rational soul perfects the body, however is not perfected. 88

Inde non extenditur extensione materiae, non dividitur eius divisione, ut saepe dixit Averroes contra Alexandrum. Ideo expono “nullius corporis est actus” eo modo, quo vegetativa et sensitiva univoce cum istis. Tamen est actus primus, quia perficit materiam, quod redditur ex V Metaphysicae 35. Nullum aeternum erit forma rei corruptibilis. Si ergo ista virtus est aeterna, ergo non potest esse forma hominis, quia homo est generabilis et corruptibilis, quia corruptibilia sunt ut Sortes et Plato. Dico, quod nullum aeternum est forma rei generabilis. Verum est de eo, quod est simpliciter aeternum; verum quod non est simpliciter aeternum, est forma rei generabilis et corruptibilis. Et ideo apud Platonem erat simpliciter aeterna. 22. Tu dicis: “Anima rationalis est omnino separata a materia et simpliciter aeterna.” Nego, quia aliquo modo est corruptibilis extrinsece, quia terminat generationem et corruptionem; Sortes, quia incipit esse in hac materia et desinit in ipsa esse, ergo aliquo modo extrinsece est generabilis et corruptibilis. Ita dicit Plato de idea: Est separata a singularibus; ideo non potest dici aliquo modo, neque in virtute neque extrinsece, generabilis et corruptibilis, sed omnino separata simpliciter. Ideo argumentum Aristotelis valet contra Platonem: Nullum simpliciter aeternum est forma rei generabilis et corruptibilis; anima autem rationalis non est simpliciter aeterna, sed aliquo modo generabilis et corruptibilis; ideo potest esse forma. Et sic ista ratio valet contra Platonem, non autem contra Aristotelem. 23. Ad secundum dico: “Cum tu dicis: ‘Si anima rationalis est forma substantialis hominis, ergo pes, manus et quaelibet pars hominis intelligetur et diceretur intelligens sicut totus homo’, nego argumentum, quia non sequitur: Anima rationalis est forma hominis, ergo est in pede et in manu et ita pes et manus intelligerent et dicerentur intelligens sicut totus homo, sed ista est in manu et in pede sicut in toto corpore.”

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Therefore it is not extended by an extension of matter, not divided by a division of matter, as Averroes often says against Alexander. Therefore I set forth “it is the act of no body” in this way, in which the vegetative and sensitive are identical with these. Nevertheless the rational soul is a first act, because it perfects matter, which is expressed from Book V of the Metaphysics 35. The form of a corruptible thing will be nothing eternal. If therefore this power of the soul is eternal, therefore it cannot be the form of man, because man is a generable and corruptible thing, because corruptible things are like Socrates and Plato. I say that the form of a generable thing is nothing eternal. It is true on the one hand that it is inherently [simpliciter] eternal; on the other, true that it is not simpliciter eternal—that it is a form of a generable and corruptible thing. And therefore in view of Plato it was simpliciter eternal. 22. You say: “The rational soul is entirely separated from matter and is simpliciter eternal.” I disagree, because in some way it is extrinsically corruptible, because it ends generation and corruption. Socrates, because he begins existing in this matter and ceases to exist in the same, is therefore in some way extrinsically generable and corruptible. Accordingly, Plato said of the idea: The soul is removed from particulars; therefore it cannot be said in any way, neither inherently nor extrinsically, to be generable and corruptible, but simpliciter and entirely separate from particulars. For that reason the argument of Aristotle triumphs against Plato: The form of a generable and corruptible thing is nothing simpliciter eternal; but the rational soul is not simpliciter eternal, but in some way generable and corruptible; therefore it can be a form.170 And in this way this explanation triumphs against Plato, however not against Aristotle. 23. Regarding the second I say: “Since you say: ‘If the rational soul is the substantial form of man, therefore a foot, a hand, and whichever other part of a man would understand and would be called intelligent just like the whole man’, I disagree with that argument, because it doesn’t follow. The rational soul is the form of man, therefore it is in the foot and in the hand and thus the foot and hand think would be said to be intelligent just like the whole man, but it is in the hand and in the food just as it is in the entire body.”

170 “[Pomponazzi] denies the name of ‘forms’ to [eternal, self-exiting] ‘essences’; and refuses to allow that if they were what they were supposed to be—self-existing substances—they could be in any sense the ‘forms’ of material bodies as well. For a form in the latter sense—actus materiae—is not ‘an existent’ (quod est), but that ‘in virtue of which something else exists’ (quo aliquid est). Douglas p. 90 [The argument appears also in De imm. VIII]. 90

Concedo, quod est operatio in illa parte ut in toto corpore, nego consequentiam, quia ista forma et ista operatio non est nata denominare nisi totum, non autem tantum partem. Unde hoc est ex communi usu loquendi. Non enim dicimus, quod manus et pes intelligant, quantumcumque etiam sit in pede et in manu intellectio, sed dicimus, quod totus homo intelligit. Ideo non valet “intellectus est in pede et in manu, ergo pes et manus intelligit et dicetur intelligens sicut totum”. 24. Quod addis, quod indivisibile simul accipit contradictoria, videlicet moveri et non moveri, nego. Probas, quia mota manu movetur anima rationalis, quiescente pede eadem numero quiescit. Dico, quod, si concedamus, quod hoc modo anima rationalis moveatur et non moveatur, ista non sunt contradictoria, quia contradictoria sunt eiusdem et secundum idem; sed animam rationalem moveri mota manu, quiescere pede quiescente non sunt ita contradictoria, quia non sunt ad idem et secundum idem, sed sunt diversa. 25. Dico tertio negando, quod eodem indivisibili verificentur contradictoria. Tu dicis: “Quia mota manu movetur anima rationalis” et cetera, nego illud, quia dixi alias saepe, quod anima rationalis non movetur motu corporis. Ideo mota manu non movetur anima rationalis. “Reliquit hominem”; dico, quod non reliquit hominem, sed apposuit ipsum. Tamen non movetur moto corpore hominis, quia est forma separata a materia, et forma separata a materia est praescindens a materia. Praescindet etiam a condicionibus materiae; sed moveri est condicio materiae; ideo anima rationalis praescindit a motu et non movetur. Ita et formae caelestes, si informent orbes suos, is orbis movetur, non tamen movetur eius forma, quia illa forma praescindit a materia; ergo a condicionibus materiae. Et sic anima rationalis non movetur motu corporis, neque per se neque per accidens.

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I concede that it is an operation in the part as well as in the whole body; however I deny the conclusion, because that form and that operation is designed to designate only the whole, not just a part. Whence this is from the common practice of speaking. For we do not say that a hand and a foot think, so much as there is even thought in the foot and in the hand, but we say that the whole man thinks. Therefore, this is not valid: “The intellect is in the foot and in the hand, therefore the foot hand think and is said to be intelligent just as the whole.” 24. I disagree with what you add, namely that the indivisible is simultaneously involved in contradictory things—that is to say, to be in motion and not to be in motion. You prove it by saying that the rational soul is moved by the movement of the hand; the same is quieted by the resting foot. I say that if we concede that the rational soul is put in motion and not put in motion in this manner, then these are not contradictory things, because contradictory things are of the same thing and according to the same thing; but for the rational soul to be moved by the movement of the hand, to be quieted by the resting foot—these are not contradictory things in this manner, because they are not related to the same thing or according to the same thing, but are different. 25. Third, I disagree that contradictory things are confirmed by an indivisible thing. You say: “Because the rational soul is moved by the movement of the hand” and so forth. I deny that, because I have often said elsewhere that the rational soul is not moved by the movement of the body. Therefore the rational soul is not moved by the movement of the hand. “It has left the man”; I say that it has not left the man, but has designated him. Yet it is not moved by the movement of the body of man, because it is a form separate from matter, and a form separated from matter is divorced from matter.171 It will also be divorced from material conditions; but to be moved is a condition of matter; therefore the rational soul is divorced from motion and is not moved. Thus also with the celestial forms, if they inform their spheres: this sphere is moved, however not moved by its form, because that form is divorced from matter, and therefore from the conditions of matter. And as such, the rational soul is not moved by the movement of the body, neither on its own nor by accident.

171 Here Pomponazzi takes an interesting turn. He has up until this point defended the rational soul as the substantial soul of man; here he implies that it is a form divorced from matter, which is hardly something to be expected from an Aristotelian forma substantialis. It seems Pomponazzi could not entirely resist the tendency of the Averroists to conceive of the intellect as something immaterial, not dependent on the body as subject, in the way the vegetative and sensitive powers of the soul are, but as object—not a part of the body, but unable to function without the body, and hence perishing with the body. 92

Non per se, quia non est corpus neque virtus corporalis; non per accidens, quia praescindit a materia, ergo a condicionibus et passionibus materiae. Ergo separatur ab homine, si non movetur motu ipsius. Non separatur, sed remanet in ipso, et ipsa associatur et tamen non movetur, quia est forma separata a materia. 26. Alias disputavi longius de hac materia VIII Physicorum 92, ubi Aristoteles dubitat de hoc in formis caelestibus, et ibi multa dixi de hac materia, quod addendum puto, quia in homine est alia forma substantialis, scilicet sensitiva, praeter animam rationalem, quae perfecte actuat materiam. Ergo ista forma est accidens, quia ex Aristotele VII Metaphysicae et Averroe in hoc II et in libro De substantia orbis omnis forma adveniens enti in actu est accidens. Quomodo ergo sequitur, quod anima rationalis sit forma substantialis? Dicam de hoc in quaestione de pluralitate animarum. Vide ibi! 27. Et haec sint dicta.

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Not on its own, because it is not a body, nor a power of the body; not by accident, because it is divorced from matter, therefore from the conditions and passions of matter. Therefore it is separate from man, if it is not moved by his movement. It is not entirely separated, but remains in him, and is itself joined to him, and yet not moved, because it is a form separated from matter. 26. Elsewhere I have argued at greater length on this material from Book VIII of the Physics 92, where Aristotle is uncertain about this in the celestial forms, and there I have said much about this matter, which I think should be added, because in man is another substantial form besides the rational soul, namely the sensitive, which perfectly actualizes matter. Therefore the rational soul is an accident, because from Aristotle Book VII of the Metaphysics and Averroes in this, Book II, and in the book De substantia orbis, every form coming to a being which already exists is an accident. How does it therefore follow that the rational soul is a substantial form? I will speak on this in the question of the plurality of souls: Look thou there! 27. Let these things be said.

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IV

Explication and Analysis

The fragments presented in the previous chapter provide an interesting window into

Pomponazzi’s developing theory of soul. Perhaps of greatest interest are the similarities and differences between the material presented in the fragments and what appears a year or two later in the Tractatus de immortalitate animae, for in the similarities we witness continuity of thought, and in the differences we can infer changes that were still occurring in Pomponazzi’s mind in these formative years.

Right about the time (1514-5) Pomponazzi was composing the series of questions

(Fragmenta super libros De anima Aristotelis), of which these fragments are a part, he had sequestered himself away at Ferrara to deal with the Averroist challenge to his generally Thomist way of thinking. He had been convinced by debates with his Averroist interlocutors that a form

(i.e. soul) cannot have two separate kinds of existence—one as a self-subsisting entity

(independent of the body) and another as the form of a composite being (dependent on the body)—the way that Thomas had conceived of the soul, yet he continued to see the unified, impersonal intellect of the Averroists as ridiculous.172 Trying to reconcile these opposing forces, and attempting to return to the “original” Aristotle, he went back to the De anima, and, often using Alexander of Aphrodisias for inspiration, created a series of commentaries in the form of

Utrum questions. It appears that he never meant to formally publish these fragmenta, and that they more or less served as a means of solidifying his ideas on key Aristotelian questions regarding the soul and its functions. In this chapter, I will explore both of the fragments I have translated, Utrum definitio animae sit bene assignata? and Utrum anima rationalis sit forma substantialis?, extracting the meaning from the material and comparing the thoughts found here

172 Cassirer et al., p. 270. 95

against those in his De immortalitate, thus placing these thoughts within the progress of

Pomponazzi’s ideas.

The first fragment, Utrum definitio animae sit bene assignata?, is a rather short piece that discusses the traditional Aristotelian definition of the soul: that it is “the first act of a physical organic body having in it the capacity for life.”173 The body of the fragment is—somewhat

surprisingly—largely comprised of paraphrased arguments against this definition. Pomponazzi,

in the standard scholastic manner, meticulously picks apart the definition, term by term,

examining the validity of each segment through the lens of the definition’s detractors.

Sometimes he cites the detractor by name; often he does not. This frequent absence of

attribution has, as I see it, one of three explanations. One, the criticism in question would have

needed no citation in Pomponazzi’s day, because the source of each idea would have been

obvious to his educated audience. Two, he neglects to cite many of the arguments because the

fragment was never meant to be published, and thus letting some arguments go unattributed was

acceptable for Pomponazzi’s purposes. Three, he does not attribute the thought to someone else,

because the criticism is his own. Remember, this was a time when he was regrouping after his

previous metaphysical paradigm had been unsettled by his opponents, causing him to

reformulate his philosophy. Perhaps he was simply playing devil’s advocate; perhaps he was

voicing some real doubts about elements of the definition. The fact of the matter is that at

present, it is impossible to say if either is the case, but I do at least acknowledge the possibility of

this third theory for the very reason that at the end of the fragment, when he does go about

refuting the arguments of the opposition, he does so in a rather brisk, cursory manner, and even

then only addresses several of the many arguments raised in criticism of Aristotle’s definition.

173 De anima, II.i.412b. 96

Pomponazzi opens this first fragment by laying out arguments against the first term in

Aristotle’s definition of the soul: that it is an act. To do so, Pomponazzi claims that the soul cannot be an act, because then it would be a form; but it is not a form. This view is vaguely that of dualists such as the Platonists, who believed the soul and body to both be self-subsisting, and not related to one another as form is related to matter. This hardly seems like it could be

Pomponazzi’s own doubt, because “soul as form” is the most central tenet of the Aristotelian notion of the soul, and it would be impossible for him to claim allegiance to Aristotle while throwing aside this qualification. He goes on, saying that if the soul were a form, it would either have to be substantial or accidental; yet it cannot be accidental because Averroes has affirmed it to be a substance, the implication here being that a substance cannot be considered an accident.

Yet it cannot be considered substantial because a substance, by definition, is not to exist dependently. In other words, substances can exist per se; the soul cannot. Therefore it is not a substance.

He then moves on to arguments against the soul being a first act. The main argument he raises against this can likely be traced to Aquinas, and definitely to Duns Scotus. It is the fact that the soul cannot be the first act of the body because other acts precede it in the body. In support of this assertion he points to the fact that a soul can only inform a body “well-disposed” to it via the required characteristics and proportions; Aristotle himself defines this as a “body possessed of organs”.174 How it should come about that a physical body would already meet those criteria before the introduction of the soul, which is supposed to be its first act, is unclear, and led some (most notably Scotus) to postulate that some other form or forms informed the matter of the body (i.e. forma/formae corporeitatis), giving it shape and predisposing it to being joined with the soul. Pomponazzi also argues from a point of semantics, since technically a first

174 De anima, II.i.412b. 97 act only exists when a second act exists; otherwise there’s no need to call it a first act. In some functions of the soul, such as nutritive growth, this distinction between first and second acts fails to exist, and thus the soul’s semantic status as a first act becomes doubtful.

Pomponazzi then extends this defense of “soul as first act” to “soul as first act of the body”. His response to this extension is quick: the soul cannot be the first act of the body because, in light of the above distinction, the soul must be considered accidental to the body, because any form coming to a body that already exists (a body existing in actu) is by definition accidental to that body. He cites Aristotle himself as the source for the definition to uphold his argument, showing that in the great scheme of scholastic Aristotelianism, commentators who were at odds with one another were often both relying on the words of Aristotle for their opposing arguments. It will be Pomponazzi’s job here and elsewhere to cut straight to the essence of Aristotle, favoring those ideas and definitions so central as to be considered unassailable to anyone claiming to follow the Philosopher.

Moving farther along into Aristotle’s definition, he comes to the word “physical”. The quibble here is semantically driven as well. In sum, it goes like this: “accident” is not a part of the definition of “substance”. The term “physical” is a part of the definition of the soul. The soul is substance. If we swap the definition of “physical” (to be the principle of motion and rest

[accidental qualities]) for the word “physical” in the definition of the soul, then accidentals wind up in the definition of the soul. By extension, since soul is substance, accidentals would wind up in the definition of a substance, which if we return to the first premise of this chain, does not follow. Furthermore, Pomponazzi says, if we simply remove the term “physical” from the definition of the soul, the definition will be no less complete, because the term “having in it the capacity for life” suffices entirely. Here Pomponazzi introduces the idea of something being 98

superfluous as a criterion in Aristotle’s definition.175 He attributes the argument to no one in

particular, and since in this segment and the next he actually poses a rather logical demonstration

of these potentially superfluous elements, it may well indicate his own doubt on the matter.

In similar fashion, Pomponazzi raises doubts concerning the term “organic”. First, he

claims that definition of “organic” contains accidental elements, which have no place in the

definition of a substance like the soul. Next, he introduces an argument that the soul must be

simpler than the forms of the physical elements. Thus, its subject must be simpler than the

elements (or something composed of them). As such, the organic body cannot be its subject.

This argument feels weak by comparison to others he has raised, because it involves itself in a

non sequitur: the soul we are discussing is in fact the very soul which makes the animate body

animate. Saying that the soul cannot inhabit the very body that we have already defined as being

inhabited by a soul does nothing for the discussion at hand. At any rate, Pomponazzi quickly

moves on to the argument for superfluousness once more, stating that either “organic” or “having

it is the capacity for life” is a tautology, because every organic thing has the potential for life,

and everything having the potential for life is organic. This argument is far more logical, and

being that it too is unattributed, I would have little trouble accepting this as a genuine criticism,

or at the very least a point of personal doubt, from Pomponazzi.

Lastly, he comes to the oft-discussed phrase, “having in it the capacity for life”.

Pomponazzi’s chief complaint is that the phrase is not well stated, probably meaning that it is

175 In essence, Pomponazzi here introduces “Ockham’s Razor”, a logical tool attributed to the medieval Aristotelian, William of Ockham. Ockham’s Razor aims to eliminate unnecessary elements from an argument or explanation, and in its most widespread contemporary formulation, is often rendered as “The simplest explanation is usually the best one.” This, however, is obviously not always true, and was never the intention of Ockham himself. The closest Ockham comes to an explicit rendition of his eponymous “Razor” is probably Numquam ponenda est pluralitas sine necessitate [Plurality must never be posited without necessity], or as he states elsewhere, Frustra fit per plura quod potest fieri per pauciora [It is futile to do with more things that which can be done with fewer]. Ockham’s words on the matter can be found in Quaestiones et decisiones in quattuor libros Sententiarum Petri Lombardi, i.27.2, and in Summa Totius Logicae, i.12. 99

ambiguous. He enumerates two different meanings that can be inferred from this phrase: the

first, which he attributes to St. Thomas and his pupil Aegidius, is that the presence of the

physical body infers the presence of a “potential body”, i.e. the forma corporeitatis. The second

interpretation would be that the soul is the act of the body, just as Aristotle said. Pomponazzi

argues that apparently neither reading can stand scrutiny. The first (he rightly asserts) was never

the intention of Aristotle. The second (while consistent with Aristotle’s intention) falls victim to

another semantic snare, this one set in place by St. Thomas: something would be defined in terms

of itself. If we were to place the animate body in the definition of the soul (in that a body having

the capacity for life is by definition animate), then the definition of an animate body (to be

composed of soul and body) is understood, and thus a soul is defined as the form of something

which has a soul—circular logic. Lastly, Pomponazzi presents some doubts concerning the word

“capacity” [potentia]. This term is problematic, it seems, because some functions of the soul never exists simply as a capacity, but are always in operation (such as nutrition/growth). Thus,

Pomponazzi notes that “then the definition would not be appropriate for everything contained

under the thing defined”, in other words, would not apply to every grade of soul.

At this point, Pomponazzi makes the transition from simply raising doubts to actually

answering them with his own arguments. Being the dutiful, orthodox Aristotelian he is,

Pomponazzi immediately brings all of the arguments to the bar of the Aristotelian definition,

analyzing each segment of the definition. Here one gets the impression that it is perhaps a bit

circular and self-serving to defend the validity of the Aristotelian definition of the soul with the

Aristotelian definition of the soul. Nevertheless, he systematically works through the defense:

since being is divided by Aristotle into substance and accident, the soul is a substance; since

substance is trifold (form, matter, composite), the soul is a form; since perfection is either first or 100

second, the soul is a first perfection and an act of the body. Again, it is possible this rather

cursory explanation can be attributed to the personal purpose of the fragmentum—Pomponazzi

himself is perfectly aware of the Aristotelian fundamentals, so he needed to spend little time

belaboring them.

He then brings up the argument (in fact, the only argument he actually singles out in his

defense of Aristotle’s definition) against the substantiality of the soul. His opponents have

argued that the soul cannot be a substance, because it cannot stand per se, but exists in subiecto,

which does not befit a proper substance. Pomponazzi shrewdly finds the source of this

argument’s failure: the fallacy of equivocation. Remember, Aristotle defines substance in a

trifold manner: substance is either form, matter, or the composite created by form and matter

together.176 When Pomponazzi’s imagined opponents speak of substance, they are referring to

the composite sort of substance, which can indeed subsist per se. However, soul is a form, which

is in fact also a substance, just not the self-subsisting, predicable kind. Thus, their argument fails

through falsely equating two different stages of substance. Here, the fragment essentially ends.

He does raise again the apparently troubling question about whether forms of any sort may

precede the soul in the body, but then he promises to address this question in another

fragmentum. He in fact does this, in a fragment entitled Utrum aliquod accidens praecedat formam substantialem in materia?

The point to extract from this brief defense is that Pomponazzi’s first instinct is to always go right back to Aristotle for testing the validity of arguments. As he says here, “I don’t propose another explanation if it is not a demonstration of Aristotle”. The small fragment I have just

analyzed demonstrates the clarity of Pomponazzi’s purpose and his fidelity to Aristotle which

176 “Now there is one class of existent things which we call substance, including under that term, firstly, matter, which in itself is not this or that; secondly, shape or form, in virtue of which the term “this” or “that” is at once applied; thirdly, the whole made up of the matter and form.” De anima, II.i.412a. 101

has made him such a well-respected Aristotelian. He is content to devote only one paragraph to

waving aside the objections that he spent some four pages enumerating. He fails to address the

“organic”, “physical”, and “having in it the capacity for life” series of objections. In fact, all he

chooses to validate here is that the soul is substance, a form, and the act of the body. However,

since those are the fundamentals, perhaps he is content to have cut to the core of the soul’s

definition, and to have established at least these most essential of tenets—again, the most

unassailable of Aristotelian positions upon which he will eventually build his own argument.

Finally, it will be of some interest to explore how the condensation of these complicated

Aristotelian concepts and arguments presents itself in Pomponazzi’s De immortalitate.

Whatever misgivings Pomponazzi may have maintained about the terminology of Aristotle’s

definition (if he in fact entertained any) are gone by Chapter IV of De immortalitate. Here, in

defending the fact that the intellective soul is in fact the act of the human body, he states that

“anima est actus corporis physici organici, etc. Ergo anima intellectiva est actus corporis

physici organici [the soul is the act of a physical, organic body, etc. Therefore the intellective

soul is the act of a physical, organic body.]”177 Further, the same chapter finds that Pomponazzi

is always guided by the formula “anima forma corporis [soul is the form of the body].”178 This

tenet always was and always remained Pomponazzi’s Aristotelian “North Star”, giving his

argument steady and sure direction in any context.

Two other points remain fixed for Pomponazzi in his notion of the soul. One is that there

is no evidence for the disembodied existence for the soul, because this would require two modes

of being for the same entity—his standard critique of Thomism, and also of Averroism, which

postulated an intelligence capable of functioning both independently and also via the human

177 Pomponazzi, Tractatus de immortalitate animae. Trans. John Herman Randall Jr., in Cassirer et al. pp. 280-381. Here, from Ch. IV, p. 289. 178 Ibid., p. 289. 102

being. The other point is that human intelligence is something immaterial, which implicitly

relies on the material stratum of the body as obiectum in order to function. It is this second

point, the immateriality of the human intellect, that will be a subject explored in the next

fragment, Utrum anima rationalis sit forma substantialis?.

This second fragment is longer and more intricately organized than the first. More importantly, however, is the fact that this fragment is far more affirmative—it certainly devotes plenty of space to the arguments of the opposition, but unlike the first, it spends far more time dealing directly with Pomponazzi’s opinion on the matter at hand. Utrum anima rationalis sit forma substantialis? explores the question of whether the rational soul can be the substantial form of the human body, which was a point of debate for one particular reason. Remember that

the substantial soul is the first act that bestows not simply operation on a living thing, but also

being, or esse. As we have seen, most Aristotelians had no problem conceiving of the vegetative

and sensitive aspects of the soul as being the substantial form of the body because it was clear

that these grades of soul, as Pomponazzi says in this fragment, “perfect the body and thence are

perfected, because they are caused by matter and by extension of matter, and they employ a

bodily organ.” In other words, the subiectum of these grades was widely agreed to be the matter

of the very body of which they were the form. The rational soul posed a problem, however,

because many believed it to be immaterial in its nature; thus how could something whose

subiectum was supposed to be immaterial be the substantial form of matter? This is precisely the

question Pomponazzi sets out to answer.

Before I begin the analysis of this fragment, there is something more preliminary which

for me has been faciens dubitationem [raising doubt] as Pomponazzi might say. In this fragment,

Pomponazzi only refers to the thinking grade of the human soul as the anima rationalis. 103

However, in his major work, the De immortalitate, he strongly favors the term anima

intellectiva. In perusing some of the other fragmenta on the De anima, I noted Pomponazzi uses

both terms in different places. The question then became why he uses rationalis in this

fragment, and intellectiva in his major work. Are the two terms synonymous? Or does each

connote something different?

It does seem that the two terms are often used interchangeably in the scholastic literary

tradition of which Pomponazzi was a product. For example, at the council of Vienne in

Dauphiné, in 1311, one of the propositions condemned at the council concerned the union of the

soul and body, and uses the language “anima rationalis seu intellectiva”—the rational or intellective soul.179 William of Ockham mentions that “the intellective or rational soul is the

type of soul which belongs to a spiritual creature”.180 Even St. Thomas tends to use the two

interchangeably, saying in one place that the “anima rationalis praeter alias formas dicitur esse

substantia et hoc aliquid secundum quod habet esse absolutum”,181 while in another “Et quia

unumquodque agit secundum quod est in actu, oportet anima intellectiva habeat esse per se

absolutum, non dependens a corpore.”182 So then if the two terms refer to one and the same kind

of soul, why does Pomponazzi use one to the exclusion of the other in one place, and the reverse

in another? I would argue that Pomponazzi understood the two to be synonymous, but that he

also perceived a slight connotative distinction: that between the processes of intellectio and

ratiocinatio.

179 Maurice Wulf, History of Medieval Philosophy, p. 294. 180 Elizabeth Karger, "Ockham’s Misunderstood Theory of Intuitive and Abstractive Cognition," The Cambridge Companion to Ockham. Ed. Paul Vincent Spade, p. 205. 181 “The rational soul beyond other forms is said to be substance and a hoc aliquid according to which man has absolute being.” Sententiae., II, dist. 19, quest. 1, art. 1, ad. 4. 182 “And because each one acts according to what is in actu, it is necessary that the intellective soul have absolute being on its own, not depending on the body.” Quaestiones de anima, quest. 1. 104

Pure intellect per se, like the heavenly Intelligences, which guided the motions of the

various heavenly bodies and were entirely independent of matter for their operation, apprehends

all knowledge and objects directly. In the human mind, however, knowledge is arrived at

through a process of discursus or ratiocinatio, meaning that while operating in man, intellect—

reliant on sense-experience and prior knowledge—must rely on a process of logical reasoning to arrive at knowledge. Andrew Haliday Douglas, referring to De immortalitate XII, explains:

In particular the intellectual principle, by possession of which, certainly, man

“partakes” of the nature of that which is abiding, is present in him in so imperfect

and rudimentary a form that it cannot raise him after all above the sphere of the

perishable. The human reason is definitely distinguished from the absolute

reason, as acting by discursus and not by simplex intellectus. From this point of

view it is not properly to be called intellectus.183

Further, in Pomponazzi’s own words, “[the human intellect] is not truly called intellectual but

only rational, for intellect grasps all things by simple intuition; reasoning by means of discursive

thought, synthesis, and a process in time, all of which are evidences of its imperfection and

materiality, for these are the conditions of material existence.”184 Because the intellect is

considered a “thing”, immaterial though it may be, and because so much of the discussion

Pomponazzi is engaged in focuses on how this intellect functions in man (or rather how man

“partakes” in this immaterial intellect), in order to underscore this relationship he often favors

anima intellectiva (i.e. the soul qua intellective). Elsewhere, as in this fragment, when he wants

to emphasize the more human aspect of this relationship, he uses anima rationalis, semantically

different, but realistically the same thing. Otherwise we’d be dealing with a four-fold conception

183 p. 130-1. 184 De immortalitate XII, Cassirer et. al., p. 340. 105

of the soul: vegetative, sensitive, rational, and intellective, which is not the case. Thus the anima

rationalis is essentially the same thing as the anima intellectiva (since he describes both in

exactly the same terms: immaterial in its essential nature but using the material body as an

obiectum.). The use of anima rationalis stresses both the traditional Aristotelian term for the

highest function of soul (vegetative, sensitive, rational), and also the rational process through

which operates when united with man.

On a final note, I had also wondered if Pomponazzi’s use of anima rationalis was meant

to be synonymous with Averroes’ vis cogitativa, a bodily, cogitative power inherent to man proper, which he thought of as just above the sensitive, but well below the intellective part of the soul. However, as will become apparent, Pomponazzi’s use of anima rationalis has nothing to do with Averroes’ cogitative power, because it is essentially material, while Pomponazzi’s anima rationalis is essentially immaterial; also, Averroes’ cogitative power is only a vis—a power or capacity of the enmattered soul. On the other hand, the anima rationalis is the highest grade of soul, essentially immaterial in its being, yet yoked to the body (i.e. the sensitive faculty, which provides the phantasmata through which the anima rationalis operates.)

As was the case with structure of the first fragment, Pomponazzi begins this fragment also with the arguments of his imagined opponents. In like manner, I will therefore outline the opposing opinions on the nature of the rational soul, and then explain Pomponazzi’s detailed, comprehensive reply.

The first is that of Averroes, who says that the intellect is not united to man unless by means of imagination. Thus, it is united to man through operation alone. Therefore it is not his substantial form. The difference between forma assistens and forma informans is important here, because a forma assistens bestows operation or attribute alone, while a forma informans 106

bestows being (esse) as well as operation, making it a substantial form. Averroes here, by

claiming that the intellect’s relationship with man is solely based on operation, relegates anima

rationalis to a forma assistens, which can obviously not be a substantial form. Pomponazzi then

asserts that Plato also believed this to be the case, saying that man is a soul using a body, and that

the soul is simpliciter eternal and removed from particulars; clearly it follows that something eternal in nature (such as the intellect) cannot be the form of something mortal. Even Aristotle himself is used in the argument against the rational soul’s substantiality, quoted as stating that it can be the form of no body. Even in arguing against Plato, in the Metaphysics, Aristotle states that “the form of a generable and corruptible thing is nothing eternal.” Speaking against Plato’s notion of a separable, imperishable entity residing within the body, he perhaps inadvertently provides a definition that could be used against the substantiality of his own anima rationalis.

What follows is a strange set of logical arguments, unattributed to anyone in particular.

Essentially, the argument suggests that if the rational soul is the substantial form of man (and

thus informs the whole body), then a foot or a hand or any other part would be able to think. In other words, if the power of thought is the substantial form of the human body, and thus makes it what it is, it would make the whole body intelligent, and thus capable of thought. The implications drawn from this by the unnamed opponent are, of course, ridiculous. Furthermore, the argument goes, the same indivisible thing (the anima rationalis) would simultaneously partake in contradictory actions: if a moving hand moves a stationary foot, then the substantial form would be both simultaneously moving and not moving, which is contradictory of this same entity. This second section of this argument seems odd, not because it is illogical, but because it seems to have nothing specifically to do with the rational soul as a substantial form, unlike the first section, but rather seems to attack the entire notion of substantial forms as a whole. 107

Finally we are left with the argument that Pomponazzi calls “more difficult” to deal with,

which is this: in the human being there is another form, namely the anima sensitiva, which the

Peripatetics already agree bestows life and function more perfectly even than the more basic

anima vegitativa. To put it another way, the rational soul simply isn’t necessary as a substantial

form—as a forma informans—because the human body already has a perfect being via the

sensitive soul, which is already agreed to be essentially inhered in matter. This was certainly the

view of Averroes and those who followed in his tradition, like Siger and John of Jandun, who

believed the intellect to be an independent, supervening power joined to a body that was already

complete. Furthermore, since this body is already “complete” by virtue of the sensitive soul, the

rational soul then becomes “accidental”, extraneous—imparting a crucial function, but not

absolutely necessary for the body’s existence: a mere forma assistens.

In his characteristic way, Pomponazzi immediately brings Aquinas to bear on this

essentially Averroistic argument. The Saint’s argument, from Contra gentiles II, is crisp and

clear: “The rational soul is a soul; if it is a soul, therefore, it is the first act of the body based on

the common definition of the soul given by Aristotle. Therefore, if it is a soul, it is the

substantial form of man and of the human body.” Pomponazzi respected Thomas so much because Thomas’ instinct (in most instances), like Pomponazzi’s own, was to test automatically any questionable proposition against the Aristotelian definition of the soul. This is precisely what happens here. The rational soul is a soul. If it is a soul, it is a first act—a substantial form—of the body. Pomponazzi is known for his incisive mind and his ability to reduce complicated issues to their core; it is this ability that he esteems in St. Thomas.

Pomponazzi then builds on Thomas’ concrete distinction to go further, attacking the opposing argument concerning the rational soul’s status as mere operation. He reminds us that 108

Aristotle conceives of the soul as the first act of the body. If it is the first act of the body, it is

therefore the principle of being, because the first act of a body is its principle of being. The

second act(s)—the forma/e assistens—is/are the act(s) of operation. But the distinctions are not

always so tidy, because a first act bestows being as well as operation, which is also the function

of a second act. Therefore, as Pomponazzi tells us, the sensitive soul is said to be the first act,

because it bestows being (esse) on the body; however it can also be considered a second act,

because it bestows operation. In like manner then, Pomponazzi’s argument goes, if the power of

reason is a soul, therefore (from Thomas’ argument) it is a substantial form, because it is a first act, which is the principle of being, distinct from the principle of operating, even if it does also bestow operation. Pomponazzi then goes further, extending the implications of the rational soul’s status as soul proper: since it is in fact a soul, and since Aristotle says that the soul is that by which we live, feel, etc., then therefore we technically live by the rational soul. Having established all of the necessary requirements, he then cinches the knot, stating outright that the

substantial form of man is a rational soul and bestows man with both operation and being, and

thus is a forma informans, not simply assistens. This argument is foundational and strongly held, not just in this fragment, but also later in the De immortalitate, where in Chapter VII he says that

“in its being the intellect is the act of a physical and organic body”185, and again in Chapter IX,

where he says that “the human intellect in all its operations is the act of an organic body, since it

always depends on the body as object.”186 Such, then, is Pomponazzi’s defense of the rational

soul as first act, a necessary qualification in order to solidify it as a forma substantialis.

A question arises, however, in regards to the nature of this intellectual soul, one which

hearkens back to Aristotle’s rebuke of Plato’s belief that an eternal entity could inform a

185 Cassirer et al., p. 286. 186 Ibid., p. 316. 109

perishable being. Can “intelligence” even be a soul, if not in its entirety, then at least in part?

To establish this possibility, Pomponazzi refers again to St. Thomas, this time in De caelo, where

he argues that heaven is animate. Intelligence, per se, is heaven’s soul. Therefore if intelligence

is its soul, it is also its substantial form, because in being a first act, every soul is a substantial

form. The implication of this is that intelligence can in fact act not simply as a forma, but also a

forma substantialis, and by extension, the possibility exists for it to play that role within man as

well. However, the fact remains that the anima rationalis is inherently different from the anima

sensitiva and the anima vegetativa: as Pomponazzi says in this fragment, the latter “perfect the

body and thence are perfected, because they are caused by matter and by extension of matter, and

they employ a bodily organ”, meaning that they rely on the body both as subiectum as well as

obiectum; their bond with the material body is inextricable. The anima rationalis, on the other

hand, “perfects the body, however is not perfected”, because it only relies on the body as

obiectum, relying on itself for its subiectum. However, though they are different in their natures,

all the grades of soul perfect matter as unified: vegetative, sensitive, as well as rational. The

same soul which feels pain is the same one that thinks of a way to avoid it, as Pomponazzi is

fond of saying. The inherent unity of soul presented in this fragment is definitely manifest in his

De immortalitate. For instance, Pomponazzi’s argument for the nature of the soul as simpliciter mortalis et secundum quid immortalis is presented as a reversal of Thomas’ five theses on the soul, except for the first one, one upon which Aquinas and Pomponazzi agree: that the intellective and sensitive souls in man are the same in existence. As Pomponazzi notes, this must be true, “not only because many substantial forms cannot exist in the same subject but also

because it seems to be the same essence that knows and senses and also because in mortals the

sensitive exists in the intellective, just as the triangle in the quadrilateral.”187 In other words, in

187 Ibid., p. 300. 110

the hierarchy of grades of soul, the higher grades assume (or rather subsume) the lower, so that the sensitive grade contains within it the assumed vegetative soul, and the intellective (rational) soul subsumes both the vegetative and sensitive souls.

In this way, Pomponazzi is able to take Aristotle’s potentially problematic phrase, “the rational soul is the act of no body”, and explain it to suit his needs. It is true that the rational soul

“is the act of no body” in the way that the vegetative and sensitive are, because those perfect and are perfected by matter. But even though the anima rationalis is not perfected by the matter it

informs, it still does inform, and thus perfects, the body, and as such it is a first act and forma

substantialis.

Pomponazzi now addresses the problem that nothing eternal can be the form of a non-

eternal thing. True enough, he says; the form of a corruptible cannot be anything eternal.

Therefore, if this rational/intellective power of the soul is in fact eternal, it cannot by definition

be the form of man, because man is a generable and corruptible thing. The way in which

Pomponazzi rectifies an immaterial intelligence with the mortal human being in this fragment is

quite clever. To paraphrase and elaborate: while it is true that intelligence per se is simpliciter

immaterial, this does not make it simpliciter immortal, because it relies on the human substrate

as obiectum for its functioning. Divorced from this body and the sensitive powers on which it

relies, it ceases to be able to function, and as such is only secundum quid immortal, and is instead

simpliciter mortal. Therefore, since is in some way generable and corruptible, it can be a form.

He carries this argument directly into De immortalitate, where he states that according to

Thomas’ De caelo, everything incorruptible is ungenerated, thus demonstrating the synonymy of

the terms.188 Aquinas also asserts that the intellective soul is incorruptible, because it is

ungenerated, being instead created by a special act of God. However, this belief is false

188 Ibid., VIII, p. 312. 111

according to Aristotle: the intellective/rational soul, like the rest of the soul, is generated with the

body, and is thus corruptible.189

Pomponazzi moves next to the argument about the fact that if the rational soul were in fact the substantial form of the human body, then each part of man could be said to think. He concedes that of course, what is an operation of the whole body is also an operation of each part of that body; however that is as far as his concession goes. A substantial form, he argues, designates the whole being, and not individual parts of it. “For we do not say that a hand and a foot think, so much as there is even thought in the foot and in the hand,” he states, “but we say that the whole man thinks.” In other words, the attribute of intelligence bestowed by the substantial form is meant to be the attribute of the man as a whole, and not of the parts that make him up. Thus the argument is a non sequitur, and besides violates common parlance.

He also turns his attention to refuting the argument concerning the supposed contradiction imposed by the same substantial form being simultaneously both moved and not moved by the various actions of separate body parts. First, he argues, the rational soul is not even moved by the movement of the body, because the rational soul is “a form separate from matter, and a form separated from matter is divorced from matter.” As such, it is also divorced from material conditions (i.e. movement). Before he can be called to the mat for contradicting himself in speaking of the intellectual soul as a “form separated from matter”, since elsewhere he spent so much time criticizing Thomas for his notion of the separated soul as a forma per se subsistens, and an equal amount of time criticizing Averroes for his notion of an independently-

189 Enrico Berti, professor emeritus of the University of Padua and former president of the International Institute of Philosophy, notes that “The only part of the soul that, from the point of view of pre-existence, could pre-exist the body, appears to be the intellect, thanks to the immateriality of its functions. For Aristotle the intellective soul, thus including the intellect, does not pre-exist the body, but is generated in the embryo through the motive action exerted by the father through the sperm, an action which transmits to the embryo the faculties proper to the form possessed by the father, which is a distinctly human form. Therefore, if it is generated by human sperm, the soul generated in the embryo already contains in potency even the intellect, because it is a specifically human soul.” p. 35.

112 existing superhuman, supervening intelligence, he clarifies his point: “It is not entirely separated, but remains in him, and is itself joined to him, and yet not moved, because it is a form separated from matter.” It appears that at this point, Pomponazzi had yet to put his point in so syllogistic a form as he does in the De immortalitate, where he says in Chapter IX that although the sensitive and intellective powers are tantamount to the same thing, “the human intellect differs from the sensitive power in its way of depending on the body, because the sensitive depends subjectively and objectively, but the human intellect objectively only.” Again, in other words, the rational soul is immaterial, and is thus not moved by the movement of the body, but it is at the same time joined to man for its operation, perfects the matter of the body, and is thus still the forma substantialis.

The insight to extract from this fragment into Pomponazzi’s thought in general is similar to the insight gleaned from the last. As in the last fragment, what we see is Pomponazzi’s efficient method of comparing his opponents to the simple orthodoxy he finds in Aristotle. Even when his opponents use Aristotle to their own advantage, Pomponazzi responds with a more central, orthodox position or principle from Aristotle. After all, Aristotle can sometimes appear to sound self-contradictory. In light of this, using more central, unassailable material from

Aristotle is Pomponazzi’s way of staying close to the “real” Aristotle. Also, as mentioned just a moment ago, while much of the thought “content” survives quite intact in the Tractatus de immortalitate animae, the “form” of that thought undergoes a substantial revision. The tidy phraseology that Pomponazzi adopts for his ideas in the Tractatus, such as the ever-present formula that man is simpliciter mortalis, secundum quid immortalis, or that the intellective soul depends on the body tanquam de obiecto, yet not de subiecto, is lacking from this and the previous fragment, though those very ideas are in fact present. Perhaps it would not be 113

inaccurate to say that these fragments present thoughts, but they do not yet present what might be

called a system of thought, which is more akin to what we find in his later, major work.

It is my hope that in my efforts here, I have done some justice to the ideas of this shrewd, brilliant individual, to whom popular history has often given short shrift. Those few who have had the pleasure of involving themselves intimately with the thoughts of Pietro Pomponazzi have come away almost unanimously with the belief that here is a man who was controversial when it was the norm to be orthodox; direct when it was the norm to be circumlocutory; penetrating when it was the norm to be shallow; original when it was the norm to be derivative. These two fragments I have translated bear witness to the development of elements of a highly-respected and historically significant master work. However, the task is far from over. In translating and explicating these two fragments of the Fragmenta super libros De anima Aristotelis, I have only addressed 2% of the 113 fragments included in this largely overlooked collection. This treasure trove of both historical and philosophical insight still remains to be discovered and introduced to the English-speaking academic world. In this project, I have taken the first fruitful steps toward presenting and commenting upon this collection of important fragmentary works. So long as these works remain untranslated and unappreciated, however, our picture of both medieval and

Renaissance history will be so much more the incomplete.

114

Glossary

accidens: an accident; something incidental; a result of forces extrinsic to the being itself acting upon it.

actus: the “act” or “actuality” of the potential inherent in the matter to which it is joined. In Aristotelian terms, the soul is the act of the body.

actus corporis: the act of the body; the soul; the essence that gives life to a body which contains the potential for life. actus primus and actus secundus: The “first act”—the actus primus gives esse (“being”) to that of which it is the act. It perfects a being in its specific character, which in the case of man result is his being “human”. The first actuality (actus primus) begins a series; it supposes no other actuality preceding it in the same series, but calls for a further complement, namely, the second actuality (actus secundus), which follows upon the actus primus and covers any operations which proceed from the individual so constituted by the presence of the soul, i.e. cognition and sensation. Actus primus gives esse and quiddity (“what- ness”); actus secundus gives what might be called the accidentes. Matter is pure potentiality, and the substantial form (forma substantialis) is its first determination, its first actuality. The complete substance constituted by these two principles receives further determinations, which are, in that respect, second actualities. This is the most frequent application of the terms actus primus and actus secundus: the former is the faculty or capacity; the latter, the exercise or function. anima: rendered here as “soul”; in Greek: psyche or psuche; literally, what is meant by anima is that by which living things are in fact alive. “Life-force” or “vitality” are awkward but instructive translations. Things with an anima are animate (living) beings. The anima was the “form” of the organic body, which in turn was the living composite’s “matter”. It is important to remove any modern religious connotations about the word “soul” in this context; Plato had argued that souls were separable and immortal—Aristotle (as well as Pomponazzi) argued that souls were neither of those. The intellective

anima intellectiva: the intellectual soul; the soul as it exercises its capacity to think.

esse: existence; “being”

essentia per se stans: lit. “an essence standing on its own”; a self-subsistent rational soul in Thomistic parlance.

forma assistens: lit. an “assisting” form; one that “helps” complete the by bestowing upon the living being its specific characteristics and operations. See actus secundus. 115

forma dans esse: a form bestowing existence. See actus primus, forma informans, and forma substantialis.

forma substantialis: the form of a substance, responsible for the core of a living thing’s being at the most essential level. It makes a person “a human” – it does not make them, for example, a tall human. Such accidental attributes are the realm of the formae assistens. See actus primus.

forma informans: the “informing” form; the one that informs matter to bestow upon the organism both existence and operation. See forma substantialis.

in actu: lit. “in action” or “in the act”; something that already exists.

in subjecto: in a subject; by extension, “dependent.”

intellectus possiblis, materialis, or passivus: the “potential” intellect. The human potential for thought; the object of rational thought; unified in the Averroism; intrinsic to man.

intellectus agens, actualis, or activus: the “active” intellect. The subject of all rational thought; extrinsic to man; unified in Averroism; only incidentally joined to man—it’s the way he “participates in immortality”.

intellectus separatus: intellect as a separate, independent, external entity.

per accidens: indirectly; incidentally; by external, circumstantial, non-essential events or forces.

per se: lit. “through itself”; on its own; by itself.

potentia: potential or capacity; power

quo aliquid est: something by which something else exists; in this way, a forma substantialis is a quo aliquid est because it bestows existence on man. secundum quid: “according to something”; only in some limited way; partially

simpliciter: simply; totally; inherently; refers to the basic, essential quality of something’s being. substantia: a thing’s “essence”; its “whatness”; its “being”; the primary, stable state of a thing that remains altered despite external changes. The actus primus is “substantial form”, bestowing esse. unio: union, usually of intellect to body (esp. in Averroism). virtutes: powers or grades, specifically of the soul: vegetative, sensitive, and rational.

116

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