Introduction to the Philosophy of Saint Augustine
mind certainly that was conducting the search. When he failed to discover the meaning, Daniel came forward; and, his mind illuminated by the spirit of prophecy, he unfolded to the troubled king the prophetic meaning of the sign. For Daniel, by reason of the sort of vision that is proper to the mind, was more a prophet than the king, who had seen with the eyes of the body a corporeal sign, and in thought had beheld within his spirit the image of the object after its disappearance. But the king could do no more than recognize with his intellect that it was a sign and inquire into its meaning. . . . A careful consideration of these and other similar facts makes it abundantly clear that corporeal vision is ordered to the spiritual and the spiritual to the intellectual... .
16. Bodily sensation, therefore, belongs to the visible corporeal world and flows through the channels of the five senses, which are capable of perceiving objects even at a distance. Light, the finest element in bodies and hence more akin to the soul than the others, is first of all diffused in a pure state through the eyes and shines forth in rays from the eyes to behold visible objects. Moreover, it intermingles in some way with pure air, with misty and vaporous air, with a crasser sort of liquid, and with solid matter; and in these four states, as well as in its pure state in ocular vision, in which it is most perfect it brings about the five kinds of sensation. .. . In this connection there is a remarkable thing to be noted. Spirit takes precedence over body, and the image of a body comes after the real body. But, since that which is second in time is produced in that which is prior in nature, the image of a body in a spirit is more excellent than the body itself in its own substance. It must not, of course, be thought that a body produces something in the spirit, as if the spirit were subjected as matter to the action of a body. For he who produces something is in every respect more excellent than the thing from which he produces it. Now body is in no way more excellent than spirit; indeed spirit is obviously superior to body. Hence, though we first see a body that we had not seen before and thereupon an image of it arises in our spirit, and in this same spirit we recall it when it is absent, nevertheless the body does not produce this image in the spirit, but the spirit produces it within itself. It does this with a wonderful speed that far surpasses the sluggish actions of the body. As soon as the eyes have seen their object, an image of it is formed without a moments's delay in the spirit of the one who sees. And it is the same in the case of hearing. Unless the spirit immediately formed within itself and retained in memory an image of the word perceived by the ears, one could not tell whether the second syllable was actually the second one, since the first would not longer exist once it had impinged upon the ear and passed away. And so all habits of speech, all sweetness of song, all motion in the act of our body would break down and come to nought, if the spirit did not retain a memory of past bodily motions with which to join further operations. And the spirit surely does not retain these motions except in so far as it has formed them in imagination within itself. Furthermore there are within us images of our future actions before the actions themselves begin. For what act do we perform through the body that the spirit has not previously fashioned in thought, first seeing within itself the likenesses of all visible operations and in some way ordering them?
24... . In one and the same soul, then, there are different visions: by means of the body it perceives objects such as the corporeal heaven and earth and everything that can be known in them in the degree that they are capable of being known; with the spirit it sees likenesses of bodies, a matter that I have already discussed at length; and with the mind it understands those realities that are neither bodies nor the likenesses of bodies. But there is, of course, a hierarchy in these visions, one being superior to another. For spiritual vision is more excellent than corporeal, and intellectual vision more excellent than spiritual. Corporeal vision cannot take place without spiritual, since at the very moment when we encounter a body by means of bodily sensation, there appears in the soul something not identical with the object perceived but resembling it. If this did not happen, there would be no sensation by which exterior objects are perceived. For it is not the body that perceives, but the soul by means of the body; and the soul uses the body as a sort of messenger in order to form within itself the object that is called to its attention from the outside world. Hence corporeal vision cannot take place unless there is a concommitant spiritual vision; but no distinction is made between the two until the bodily sensation has passed and the object perceived by means of the body is found in the spirit. On the other hand, there can be no spiritual vision without corporeal vision, namely, when the likenesses of absent bodies appear in the spirit, and when many such images are fashioned by the free activity of the soul or are presented to it in spite of itself. Moreover, spiritual vision needs intellectual vision if a judgment is to be made upon its contents; but intellectual vision does not need spiritual, which is of a lower order. And so corporeal vision is inferior to the spiritual, and both are inferior to the intellectual. When, therefore, we read "The spiritual man judges all things, but he himself is judged by no man," we should not take "spiritual" as pertaining to the spirit which is distinguished from the mind (as in the text, "I will pray with the spirit, and I will pray with the mind also"), but we must understand it as deriving from that other sense as in the following: "But be renewed in the spirit of your mind." For I have already shown above that the name "spirit," in another sense of the word, is given also to the mind itself, to that power, namely, by which the spiritual man judges all things. Hence I believe that spiritual vision can be reasonably and naturally said to occupy a kind of middle ground between intellectual and corporeal vision. For I suppose that a thing which is not really a body, but like a body, can be appropriately said to be in the middle between that which is truly a body and that which is neither a body nor like a body.
L: TEACHER + CHAPTER 7 Aug.—I wish now to have you review what we, in our reasoning, have discovered. Ad.—I will do that so far as I can. First of all, I remember we were searching why we use language, and it was found that we speak for the purpose either of teaching or recalling; since, even when we ask a question, we do no other thing than that by which he, whom we question, may learn what we want to hear; and in singing, what we seem to do for the sake of delight is not a property of language. In praying to God, of whom we can not think as being taught or reminded by us, words have this force, that by them we either remind ourselves, or others are reminded or taught by us. Then, when it was proved well enough that words are nothing else but signs, and that what does not signify something can not be a sign, you proposed a line, of which I was to try to show what the words, one by one, signify. But this line was: "Si nihil ex tanta superis placet urbe relinqui." The second word of this line (nihil), though its use is most familiar, its meaning clear, yet, as to its exact signification, we were not finding it: And when it appeared to me that we do not give this word a place to no purpose in speaking, but that by it we teach our hearer something, you replied that by this word, perhaps, a state of mind is indicated, when the mind finds not what it seeks, or thinks that it has not found. You, indeed [suggested this]; but yet you put off the unexplored difficulty of the problem to be cleared up at some other time, avoiding the force of the question by a jest; and do not think that I have forgotten your obligation. Next, then, when I was trying hard enough to explain the third word in the line, I was urged by you not to show what one word meant by another word which might have the same meaning, but rather to make clear the objective reality which is signified by words. And, when I had said that this can not be done by our conversation, we came to those things which can be pointed out by the finger to those who question about them. These objects I thought were all things corporeal, but we found them to be only things visible.
From this we passed on to the deaf and to actors, I know not just how, to those who signify by gesture, without a word, not only things that can be seen, but almost everything that we speak: we found, however, that these gestures are signs. Then again we began to study how we might show these very realities, which are known by means of signs, without any symbols; since this wall, and color, and everything visible that is pointed out by extending the finger is proved to be shown by a kind of sign. Here, when I had said, wrongly indeed, that no such thing could be found, it was finally agreed between us that those things can be shown without a sign, which we are not doing when we are questioned, and which we can do straightway after we are interrogated: that language yet does not belong to this class; since it appeared clearly enough, that if we are asked what talking is while we are talking, it is easy to show that by means of itself.
We were reminded then that signs are made manifest by means of signs, or, by means of signs, other things that are not signs; or again, without the medium of a sign, realities [external and visible actions] which we can do following an interrogation about them: and of these three we took up the first to be studied and discussed more carefully. In this discussion it was made clear that there are some signs which are not signified in turn by the signs which they signify, as in this word of four syllables when we say conjunction. On the other hand, it was made clear that there are signs also which are signified in turn by the signs which they themselves are, as when we express the word sign, we signify a sign; for sign and word are two signs and also two words. But in this class where signs signify each other mutually, it was shown that some are unequal in force [or comprehension], others are equal, and others again identical. For this word of two syllables which is expressed when we say signum (sign) signifies everything absolutely by which anything is signified: but when we say word (verbum) it is not the sign of all signs, but of those only that are uttered by articulate voice. Whence it is clear that though a word may be signified by a sign, and a sign by a word, these latter two syllables by the former, and the former by the latter (verbum and signum) , yet signum has greater comprehension than verbum, since these two syllables (signum) signify more objects than the other two (verbum). But the general term word and a common noun have the same value. For reason showed that all parts of speech are nouns also, since they can be used in connection with pronouns, and that they get a name can be said of all; and there is not one of them, used in conjunction with a verb, that may not make a complete sentence. But, while a noun and a word may have the same force, for this reason that all words may be used also as nouns, they have not the same comprehension. For it was proved quite clearly enough that words are so called from one cause, nouns from another. Indeed, that one of these is found to refer to the vibration of the ear, the other to noting down the thought of the soul, can be understood also from this, that we say speaking correctly: what is the name of this thing, wishing to give the object to memory; but we are not wont to say: what is the word of this thing. But terms which signify, not only as much
[one as the other], but the very same, we found to be nomen and onoma. This point truly had escaped me in the division where symbols signify each other mutually, that we had found no symbol which among other things that it signifies, signifies also itself.
These points I have recalled so far as I could. You now see, perhaps, whether I have set them forth well and in order.
CHAPTER 8 Aug.—You indeed have reviewed from memory well enough all that I wanted: and, I acknowledge to you, these points are now seen more clearly by me than they were when by questioning and arguing we both were drawing them forth from some unknown obscurity. But whereto, by such tortuous ways, I am laboring to reach with you, is not easy to say at present. You think perhaps, indeed, that we are jesting and recreating the mind from more serious subjects by apparently childish questions; or, if you have a suspicion that this problem is to bring forth something great, you are eager now to know, or at least to hear it. But I wish you to be assured that I have not been teaching shallow jests in this conversation, though possibly we do jest, this too is not to be measured in a childish sense, and we are thinking of no little or common good. And yet if I say that there is a certain life of contentment, and that everlasting, whereto, God being our guide, that is, the truth itself leading us.—If I say that thereto I wish to be brought by degrees accommodated to our slow progress, I fear that I may seem to be unwise, because I have begun to enter upon the way not by the study of the very realities themselves, but of symbols only. You will pardon me, then, I make this prelude with you, not for the purpose of amusing, but to exercise the powers and the keenness of the mind, by which we may be enabled not only to endure, but to love the warmth and light of that region where is the life of contentment.
Ad.—Go on rather as you have begun, for never shall I think those things worthy of scorn which you shall have thought deserving of words and action.
Aug.—Come, now, let us study that division where signs do not signify other signs, but rather those other things which are called signifiable. And first of all, tell me whether man is man. Ad.—Now, indeed, I know not whether you are jesting. Aug.—Why so? Ad.—Because you think that I am to be asked whether man is anything other than man. Aug.—So you would think, I believe, that you are made an object of jest, even if I were to ask if the first syllable of this noun is anything other than ho, and the second anything other than mo. Ad.—So indeed. Aug.—But these two syllables united are homo: or do you deny it? Ad.—Who can deny it?
Aug.—I am asking, therefore, whether you are these two syllables united. Ad.—Not at all: but I see your purpose.
Aug.—Say it, therefore, so that you may not think of me as offending. Ad.—The logical inference, you think, is that I am not a man. Aug.—Why do you not think the same, since you grant that all the foregoing, on which this inference is built, is true?
Ad.—I shall not tell you what I think, until I hear from you whether when you asked if man is man, you were asking about these two syllables (homo), or the objective reality which they signify. Aug.—Suppose you answer how you understood my question. For if the question is ambiguous, you should have been on guard against that, and you should not have answered until you were certain as to how I meant the question. Ad.—How could that ambiguity trip me, when I have answered both: for homo is surely homo; and these two syllables are nothing more than two syllables; and that which they signify is nothing other than what it is. Aug.—Well said! But why did you take the word homo only, and not the other words that we uttered for both symbol and object symbolized? Ad.—How is it proved that I did not so understand the other words? Aug.—To omit other points, if you had understood that first question of mine only as pertaining to the sounding symbols, you should have answered nothing: it would appear indeed that I had asked nothing: but now, when I have pronounced three words, one of which I have repeated at the center, saying: utrum homo homo sit, it is clear that you understood the first word and the last, not the second, as signs: but that you took the second for the objects signified is proved even by this that immediately, and with no real doubt, you thought of answering my question. Ad.—You say truly. Aug.—Why, therefore, did you choose to take the word at the center only both according to the way in which it is sounded and according to what it means?
Ad.—Behold, now, I take it only in that sense in which the object is signified, for I agree with you that we cannot carry on a conversation except by means of words, which when they are heard, the mind is directed to the objective realities of which words are the signs. Show me then how it is that I am deceived by that sophism in which the conclusion is that I am not a man.
Aug.—No, but I will ask the question again, in order that you may find your error. Ad.—You do well.
Aug.—I shall not ask, then, what I asked in the first place, because you have granted that now. See, therefore, more carefully whether the syllable ho is nothing other than ho, and whether mo is nothing else than mo.
Ad.—I see here nothing else at all.
Aug.—See also whether homo is formed by the union of these two.
Ad.—I should not have granted that at all: for it was decided, and decided correctly, that when the sign is expressed we take note of the object signified; and, from the consideration of that, we assent to what has been said, or we dissent. But these two syllables, pronounced separately, because they have sounded without any signification, are just what they sound. This has been granted. Aug.—It is granted, therefore, and you hold it fixed in mind that answers should be given only to questions which are concerned with real objects signified by means of words. Ad.—I do not see why we are not agreed upon that point, provided only that the words be words. Aug.—I would like to know how you would refute that sophist of whom we are told in jest that the conclusion of the one with whom he was wrangling was that a lion had proceeded from his mouth: For when he had asked whether those things which we speak proceed from our mouth, and the one with whom the dispute was carried on could not deny it, he twisted the subject of the conversation so as to have his opponent name a lion. This done, he began, laughingly, to heckle him, and to force him to admit that because he had granted that what we speak goes forth from our mouth, and he could not deny that he had uttered "lion," it must be clear that a man so meek had thrown out a brute so savage.
Ad.—It would be easy to refute this punster: for I would not grant that whatsoever we speak proceeds from our mouth. Indeed we signify the things that we speak; but from the mouth of the speaker proceeds, not the objective reality which is signified, but a sign which is a symbol of the object; excepting where the very signs themselves are signified, which division we considered just previously. Aug.—You would be armed quite well indeed against such an opponent: however, what will you answer when I ask whether man is a noun.
Ad.—What, but that it is a noun? Aug.—Now, when I see you, do I see a noun? Ad.—No.
Aug.—Will you have me tell you what follows as a logical conclusion?
Ad.—No; do not, I beg of you: for I can answer that I am not the man who, I say, is a noun, when you ask whether man is a noun, For it has been settled that we give assent or dissent according to the thing which is signified.
Aug.—But it appears to me that your hitting upon this answer has not been a mere accident. Indeed, the very law of reason itself implanted in our minds has established your ability to discriminate. For if I were to ask what man is, you would reply, perhaps, an animal. But if I were to ask what part of speech man is, you could answer correctly only a noun. Wherefore, while man is said to be both a noun and an animal, the former is expressed in the sense of a sign, the latter in the sense of the thing which is signified. To anyone therefore who asks whether man is a noun no other answer can be given than the affirmative, for his question indicates that he wishes to be answered in the sense in which man is a sign. But if he asks whether man is an animal I will respond in the affirmative even more readily. Because if, expressing neither noun nor animal, he were to ask simply what man is, the mind would turn, by that same fixed law of speech, to the object which is signified by the two syllables, homo, and the answer would only be "animal"; or even the full definition might be expressed, namely, a rational and mortal animal. Is this not clear to you?
Ad.—Quite clear; but, since we have granted that man is a noun, how shall we avoid that too flippant reply in which the conclusion is put together that we are not men? Aug.—How else but by showing that the conclusion is not derived from the sense in which we agreed with the questioner. Or if the questioner acknowledges that he is concerned with a reference to the sign and not the thing, then we need have no apprehension, for what is there to be feared in acknowledging that I am not a man, that is these three syllables—hominem?
Ad.—Nothing could be more true. Why then is it offensive when the inference is expressed: "You therefore are not man," when, according to these points granted, nothing is more true or more truly said? Aug.—Because I cannot but think that the conclusion has reference to that which is signified by these two syllables as soon as the words are expressed, by reason of that law which is naturally very strong, so that the attention is turned to the objects signified immediately as soon as the symbols are perceived. Ad.—I accept what you say.
CHAPTER 9 Aug.—I want you to understand, therefore, that realities which are signified are to be rated at a higher value than their symbols. Whatsoever, indeed, is on account of something else must be of less worth than that for which it is: unless you think otherwise.
Ad.—It seems to me that assent is not to be granted here too hastily. For when we express the word filth, this noun I think is to be ranked far ahead of the reality which it signifies. What offends us when we hear is not the sound of this word; for by the change of one letter coenum (filth) becomes coelum (the sky) ; but we see what a difference there is between the objects signified by these nouns. Wherefore I would not attribute to this symbol what we shun in the object it signifies. More readily, indeed, do we hear this than by any one of the organs of sense do we perceive it. Aug.—Very keen, indeed. Therefore it is untrue that all realities are to be rated as of higher value than their signs. Ad.—So it seems. Aug.—Tell me, therefore, what plan you think they followed who gave a name to this object so foul and so much shunned (coenum) : or whether you approve or disapprove their action.
Ad.—I dare not presume either to approve or disapprove: and I do not know what plan they followed. Aug.—Can you find, at any rate, what your purpose is when you pronounce this word?
Ad.—I can, yes: My purpose is to signify so that I may teach him, with whom I speak, or remind him about that reality which I think ought to be taught or recalled. Aug.—How is this?) The very fact of teaching or of reminding, or of being taught or reminded, which either you express fittingly by this word, or which is expressed to you—is not that fact itself to be esteemed of higher value than the mere word?
Ad.—I grant that the knowledge itself which comes through this symbol is superior, but I do not think that the real object itself is so ranked.
Aug.—In this, our judgment, therefore, while it may not be true that all objective realities are to be ranked ahead of their symbols; it is not consequently untrue that everything that is on account of another is less excellent than that other for which it is. Indeed, the knowledge of filth, from which this noun has its fixed meaning, is to be esteemed of higher worth than the noun itself, which, we have found, is in turn to be esteemed more excellent than filth. But the one reason why knowledge is preferred before its symbol, of which we are speaking, is that this latter is proved to be on account of the former, not the former on account of the latter. Thus, if a certain glutton, and, as the Apostle has said, "a slave of sensuality," (Rom. 16:18) were to say that therefore he lives in order that he may eat; a temperate man, who has heard his words, has not the patience to endure, and says: How much better would it be to eat in order to live? He says this, indeed, in accordance with that same rule. For he disapproved for no other reason than this, that he (the glutton) should place a value so low upon his life as to esteem it cheaper than the pleasure of the palate, declaring that he lives for feasting. And this one would be approved for no other reason rightly than because, understanding which one was for the other, that is, subordinate to the other, he uttered the admonition that food is to be taken in order that we may live: that we do not live in order to be fed.
In like manner you also perhaps, or any man who values things rightly, might answer one who talks and a noisy lover of words, who says that he teaches in order to talk: Why, man, not rather: talk in order to teach? But if these things are true, as you know that they are, you see surely how much less words are to be esteemed than that on account of which we use words; because the very use itself of words is more excellent than words, for words are in order that we may use them, but we use them in order to teach. As teaching, therefore, is better than talking, so is language better than words. Far more excellent, therefore, is teaching than mere words. But I want to hear what you perhaps, think can be said against this.
Ad.—I am quite agreed, indeed, that teaching is better than words. But whether everything, that is on account of something else, is so fixed as a rule, that nothing can contradict it, I do not know.
Aug.—Elsewhere we shall take up that problem more fittingly and more carefully. For the present, the point which you grant is enough for that which I wish to prove. For you grant that knowledge of realities is more excellent than the symbols of realities. Therefore the knowledge of objective realities, which are signified, is to be preferred to the knowledge of their symbols (by which they are signified): or does it not so seem to your Ad.—Have I not granted that the knowledge of realities is to be preferred to the knowledge of symbols, and not to the symbols themselves? I fear, therefore to be agreed with you here. For what, if, as the noun filth is to be ranked ahead of the objective reality which it signifies, so also the knowledge of this noun should be given a place before the knowledge of its material object, though the noun itself may be less excellent than that knowledge? Indeed there are four points here—the noun, the real object, knowledge of the noun, knowledge of the real object. As the first, therefore, is more excellent than the second, why may not the third also be better than the fourth? But granting that it may not be more worthy, does it follow that it must be counted as less? Aug.—I see that you have retained quite well what you granted, and explained what you thought. But you understand, I think, that this noun of three syllables, which sounds when we say vitium (vice), is more excellent than that which it signifies; while the knowledge of the noun is much less perfect than acquaintance of vices. While, therefore, you may determine these four points, and study them—the noun, the objective reality, the knowledge of the noun and the knowledge of the object; we rightly rank the first ahead of the second. Thus this noun placed properly in its line, where Persius says: "But this one is sotted with vice" (Satyra 3, v. 33), not only introduces no vice into the verse, but even adds something of ornament: while yet the objective reality, which is signified by this noun, makes vicious anything whatsoever in which it exists. But not so is the third ranked ahead of the fourth; for the fourth, we see, has a greater value than the third. Indeed the knowledge of this noun is of small importance compared with a knowledge of vices.
Ad.—Think you that the knowledge of this last division is to be preferred even when it makes men more unhappy? For, of all the pains that the heartlessness of tyrants has discovered, or their designs invented, this same Persius gives the first place to that one by which men are tortured, who are forced to acknowledge the vices which they can not avoid.
Aug.—By that reasoning you can say the knowledge even of virtues is not to be preferred to the knowledge of this noun. For to see virtue and not to have it is the punishment by which this same satirist wished to have tyrants tortured.
Ad.—God save us from such unreason. Now I see indeed that knowledge, by which learning nobly enriches the soul, is not to be blamed: but they, of all men are to be esteemed the most unhappy, who, as Persius, I think, also judged, are afflicted by such disease that a remedy so powerful will not relieve it.
Aug.—You understand well: but, whatever the judgment of Persius may be, is not to our point now. For in such problems we do not depend upon the authority of these men (satirists as a class) . Then again, whether knowledge on one subject is to be preferred to another, is not to be settled here offhand. I hold what has been proved quite sufficiently: that is, that the knowledge of realities which are signified, while it may not be more excellent than the knowledge of its symbols, is yet more excellent than the symbols themselves. Wherefore let us study more and more thoroughly what is the quality of that class of realities, which we saw, can be shown by themselves, without symbols, as talking, walking, sitting down, reclining, and other things of this kind.
Ad.—I recall now what you say.
CHAPTER 10 Aug.—Does it appear to you that we can show without a sign all things that we can straightway do when we are questioned, or do you make some exceptions? Ad.—Studying this over and over again, I find nothing yet that can be taught without some sign, except perhaps talking, and possibly if someone were to ask what teaching is. For I see that he, whatsoever I shall have done to make him learn, following his inquiry, does not learn really from the object which he wishes to have made clear to him. For, as has been said, if he questions me about walking when I am not walking, or when I am doing something else, and I, on the spot endeavor to show by walking what he has asked, how shall I prevent his thinking that to walk is just so much as I have walked? But if he thinks that he will be deceived; and, indeed, whosoever shall have walked more or less than I did, that one, he will think, has not walked. And what I have said of this one word will be true of all others, which I had thought could be shown without a sign, excepting the two named (talking and teaching) . Aug.—I accept that, indeed: But does it not appear to you that talking is one thing, teaching another?
Ad.—It does seem so truly, for if they were the same, no one would teach except in the fact of speaking; however, we teach many things by means of other signs aside from words. Who, then will doubt that there is a difference?
teaching and signifying the same or is there some difference?
Ad.—I think they are the same.
Aug.—Does not he speak correctly who says that we signify in order that we may teach?
Ad.—Correctly indeed. Aug.—What if another one says that we therefore teach in order to signify, is he not easily refuted by the sentence above?
Ad.—So he is.
Aug.—If, therefore, we signify in order to teach, we do not teach in order to signify: teaching is one thing, signifying another. Ad.—You speak truly; and I answered incorrectly that both are the same. Aug.—Now answer this, whether he who teaches what teaching is, does that by signifying, or otherwise. Ad.—I do not see how he could otherwise.
Aug.—Therefore, what you said a while ago is untrue, that when the question is asked what teaching is, the reality can be taught without the means of signs; since we see that not even this can be done without signifying, where you have granted that to signify is one thing, to teach is another. For if they are distinct, as it appears they are, and this latter is shown only by the former, then it is not indeed shown by itself, as it appeared to you. Wherefore nothing has been found, as yet, that can be shown by means of itself, excepting language, which, among other things which it signifies, signifies also itself: which yet, because itself is symbol, shows nothing that stands out clearly that can be taught without means of symbols. Ad.—I have nothing upon which to disagree.
Aug.—It is established therefore that nothing is taught without symbols; also that the knowledge itself ought to be to us more precious than the symbols by which we know; though all things signified may not have greater worth than their signs. Ad.—So it does appear.
Aug.—By what a roundabout way have we arrived at so small a point. For, from the time that we began this fencing of words, which we have been doing now for quite some time, it has been worked out that we find these three points: (1) whether nothing can be taught without the means of signs; (2) whether some signs are to be preferred to the objects which they signify; (3) whether the knowledge of things is more excellent than their symbols. But there is a fourth point which I would like to know briefly from you, Le. whether you think that these points are so cleared up that now you can not doubt about them.
Ad.—I would wish indeed that we had reached some certainty after such doubts and complications, but your question disturbs me, I know not how, and prevents me from agreeing with you. For it appears to me that you would not ask this question if you did not have something to say against it: and the problem is so complex that I cannot explore it thoroughly nor with the assurance you would expect of me. I am fearful lest something may be hidden in such a labyrinthian problem that the keenness of my mind cannot perceive it.
Aug.—I admire your hesitancy, for it indicates a mind not too hasty in its decisions, a most important safeguard of a tranquil mind. For it is very difficult indeed not to be moved at all, when those things which we readily accept and approve are wrenched, as it were from our hands. Wherefore, as it is right to yield to well studied reasons, so it is perilous to accept things unknown as if they were known. For when those things which we presume are going to persist and stand firmly are too frequently upset, it is to be feared that, falling into distrust and hatred of reason, we may lose confidence in truth itself.
But come, now, let us review more thoroughly, and see whether you think we may entertain doubt on any of these points. Consider, for example, if someone who knows nothing of the art of bird-catching, which is done by means of reeds and birdlime, were to meet a birdcatcher, fitted out in his hunting dress and not hunting but walking along. Thus seeing him, the stranger would stop astonished, wondering and reflecting what this make-up of man could mean. But the birdcatcher seeing the astonished observer, with the purpose of making himself known, throws off the reeds, and, by means of the sling and the snare, takes aim, strikes and captures a bird which he sees near by; would not this birdcatcher teach his spectator what he wanted to know by means of no sign made but the very objective reality itself?
Ad.—I fear that there may be something here like that which I said of him who asks what walking is. And, indeed, I see that the whole art of bird-catching is not here set forth.
Aug.—It is easy to free yourself of that care; for I will add that an observer may be so keenly intelligent that he grasps this complete branch of the art from what he sees. For it is sufficient to our purpose if some things, though not all, can be shown, and some men can be taught without a symbol.
Ad.—To that I can also add that if a person is quick to understand, he will know what walking is when walking is shown to him by a few paces. Aug.—You may do that. I will grant it. And I not only do not oppose, but I favor the solution. Moreover you see that this conclusion is reached by both of us, that, namely, some things can be taught without the means of symbols: and that what appeared right to us a while ago is not true, that, namely, there is nothing absolutely that can be shown without symbols. For of these, not one only or another, but thousands of things come to mind which can be shown, without a sign expressed, but by themselves. Passing over numberless spectacles of men in every theatre, where things are exhibited through themselves and not with signs, does not God and does not nature exhibit and show to those who see them, the sun surely and this light diffusing and clothing all these visible things, the moon also and other planets, the earth and the sea, and whatever lives in them without number.
But if we study more closely perhaps you will find that there is nothing actually learned by means of symbols: for when a sign is given to me, if it finds me now knowing the reality of which it is the sign, that sign can teach me nothing; but if it finds me knowing the reality, what then do I learn by the sign? For when I read: "And their saraballae were not changed" (Dan. 3:94), the word saraballae does not show me the reality which it signifies. Indeed if a headdress is called by this name, have I therefore, by the hearing of this word, learned what head is or what dress is? I had known these before; and the knowledge of them came to me, not when they were named by others, but when they were seen by me. Indeed when these two syllables, which we utter when we say caput, first struck my ears I knew as little what they meant as when first I heard or read saraballae. But when caput (the word) was spoken repeatedly, I, remarking and taking note when it was spoken, found that it is the vocal term (the sign) of a reality which was already quite familiarly known to me by sight. But before I made this discovery this word was to me merely sound: I learned, however, that it is a sign, then, when I discovered of what reality it is the sign, which, as I have said, I learned, not by its signification, but the sight of it. Therefore that the sign is learned by means of a known reality is more truly correct than that a reality is learned by means of its given sign.
In order that you may understand this more thoroughly, let us suppose that we hear now for the first time the word caput, and not knowing whether it is merely a meaningless sound or whether it signifies something, we ask what caput is. (Remember that we want to have a knowledge of the sign and not of that which it signifies, which knowledge we do not have as long as we do not know of what it is a sign.) If therefore to our inquiry, the object is pointed out with the finger, it is by that seeing that we learn the meaning of the sign, which we had heard only before, and not known. In this symbol, however, there are two elements, sound and meaning. We surely do not perceive the sound from the fact that it is a sign, but by the very fact that it strikes the ear; but the meaning we get by noting the reality which is signified. For the pointing of the finger can signify nothing other than that towards which the finger is pointed; but it was pointed at the member which is called the head and not to the sign. Therefore it must be that I have not learned the nature of the thing by that pointing, for I knew that already, nor did I learn the sign in that way, since the pointing is not directed to the sign. But I do not insist too much on the pointing of the finger, for to me it seems to be rather a sign of demonstration than a pointing out of the realities, whatever they may be, which are pointed out; as in the case of the adverb which we express by saying: "lo" or "behold": for with this adverb we are wont to extend the finger, lest one sign of demonstration be not enough.
And if I can, I shall try to prove to you that by signs, which are called words, we learn nothing. For it is more correct, as I have said, that we learn the force of the word, that is the meaning which is hidden in its sound by knowledge of the reality, which is signified, than that we perceive the reality by such signification.
Then what I have said about head I might also have said of coverings and of numberless other things. And these I already know, but saraballae I do not know up to the present time. If someone were to signify their meaning by gesture or were to make a drawing of them, or indicate something to which they are similar, I will not say that he would not be teaching me (which I could maintain if I wished to talk a little more) ; but I do say, what is very much to the point, that he would not teach me by means of words. But if someone, having seen by chance this headdress (savaballae) while I was present, should have brought the fact to my notice saying: "Behold the saraballae"' I would learn something I did not know. Not by the words which are uttered, but by the sight of that object, by means of which I would know and retain the meaning of that name. For when I learned the very reality of the object I was not giving credit to the words of others, but to my own eyes. Yet perhaps I did believe their words in order to take note, that is, in order to find what was to be seen.
CHAPTER 11 So far words have value (to give them their full credit) to remind us only to look for realities, but they do not so exhibit the realities that we know them. But that person teaches me something, who holds out to my eyes, or to any one of the senses of the body, or even to the mind the things which I desire to know. By means of words, therefore, we learn only words or rather only the sound and noise of words. For if those things which are not signs cannot be words, even though a word may be heard, yet I do not know that it is a word until I know its signification. By means, therefore, of things known the knowledge of words also is made perfect; but by means of words heard, words are not learned. For we do not learn words that we know; nor can we say that we have learned words, which we did not know, except by perceiving their meaning, which is not by the hearing of sounds but by the knowledge of things signified. For it is the truest reason, and most truly said, that when words are uttered, we either know their meaning, or we do not. If we know, then we are said to be recalling rather than learning; but if we know not the meaning, then we are not even said to be recalling, although possibly we are moved to inquire.
But if you say this, we cannot know those head coverings, the name of which we know only as a sound, except by seeing them. On the other hand, we cannot know the name itself more fully except by knowing the thing signified.
But we accept that account from the youths themselves of how they triumphed over the king and over the fires by faith and religion, what praises they sang to God, and what honors they won even from their very enemies. Have we learned all this otherwise than by words? I answer that everything signified by these words had previously been the subject of our knowledge. For what three youths are, what a furnace is, what fire is, what a king is, and finally, what being unhurt by fire and all the rest which these words signify, I knew and held before I had the experience of hearing these words. But Ananias and Azarius and Misael are to me strangers, just as much as this strange word, saraballae; and these names have not helped me, and cannot now help me to know these men. But all the facts together, which are described in the account of history, I acknowledge that I believe to have been so done as they are described rather than that I know them: and they whom we believe too were not in ignorance as to this point of difference (between believing and knowing). For the Prophet says: "Unless you believe you shall not understand"; which he would not have said if he had thought that there is no difference between the two.
What I understand, that also I believe; but not everything that I believe do I also understand. Everything that I understand, however, I also know: I do not know all that I believe. And I do not, therefore, not know how useful it is to take on trust also many things that I do not know. With this advantage of believing I count also this narrative of the three youths. Wherefore, while there is a vast reach of things that I cannot know, I do know what is the advantage of believing.
But, referring now to all things that we understand, we consult, not the one speaking, whose words sound without, but truth within, presiding over the mind, reminded perhaps by words to take note. Moreover He who is consulted teaches, for Christ is He who is said to "dwell in the interior man" (Eph. 3:16-17): that is, the changeless power of God, and the everlasting wisdom, which every rational soul truly consults. But there is revealed to each one as much as he can grasp by reason of a good or a bad habit of life. And if sometimes errors are made, that is not due to a defect in the truth which he has consulted; just as it is also not the fault of this light which is bright without that the eyes of the body are frequently deceived. But we acknowledge that we consult this external light about visible things in order that it may show us such objects so far as we have the power to discern.
CHAPTER 12 But if we consult the light in reference to colors and other properties which we perceive through the body; if we consult the elements of this world and the objects of our senses; if we consult the senses themselves, which the mind uses as interpreters to know such things; and, if in reference to those things that we understand, we consult interior evidence, what can be said to have made it clear that by means of words we learn nothing but the sound that strikes the ear? For everything that we perceive, we perceive either by a corporeal sense organ or by the power of the mind. The former are the objects of the senses, the latter of the understanding: or, to speak after the manner of our own (Christian) authors, we give the name carnal to the former, spiritual to the latter. When we are questioned concerning the former, we answer what we perceive if they are present, as when we are questioned while looking at the new moon as to its size and position. Here he who asks, if he does not see the moon, believes our words, and often he believes not; but he does not learn at all unless he himself sees what is described. Now he learns, not by means of the words which are sounded but by means of the things themselves and from his own senses. For the same words are heard by the one who sees and by the one who does not see. But when there is a question not about things which we presently perceive, but about what we have formerly perceived, we do not speak then of the things themselves but of the images impressed by them and stored in the memory. I do not know how we can speak of these as true if we do not perceive them as true, unless we relate not what we see or perceive, but what we have seen or perceived. Thus do we carry in the inner courts of memory those images, documents of things perceived before. Contemplating these in the mind we utter no falsehood if we speak in good conscience. But these documents belong to us; for he who hears us (telling of past experience), if he has perceived the facts that I tell, and if he was present, does not learn by my words. But he recalls by means of the impressions which he has received from the same facts; and if he did not himself experience what I tell, who does not see that such a one learns not, but rather believes my words?
But when there is a question of those things which we perceive in the mind, that is,. by means of understanding and reason, we speak truly of the things which we behold as present in that interior light of truth, by which he who is called the interior man is enlightened and whence also comes his joy. But then our hearer, if he also himself sees those things with the simple and unseen eye, knows what I say, not by means of my words, but by his own judgment—the vision of his own mind. Therefore, speaking of what is true, I do not teach anyone viewing the same true things in his own mind; for he is taught, not by means of my words, but by means of the same mental realities which God, by the natural light of intelligence reveals within the soul. Hence, if he is questioned he might have answered the very same. But what is more unreasonable than to think that he is taught by my speech, when if he were questioned before I spoke, he could have explained the very same things. For, it frequently happens, that being questioned, someone answers in the negative, and then when he is urged by other questions, replies in the affirmative. This happens because he cannot consult this light on the entire problem. He is reminded to do this on particular points when he is questioned on them one by one. That which he cannot do in the entire problem, he can discern in the parts of which the whole is made up. To this he is directed by the words of the questioner, not by mere verbal instruction, but by means of questions put in such a manner that the individual is able to learn by the inner powers of the soul. A good example of this is to be found in the very question on which we are now engaged, namely, whether or not nothing can be taught by means of words. And first it seemed to you unreasonable, because you were unable to see clearly the whole problem. Therefore, I should have put my questions so as to make them correspond to the powers of your mind to hear that master teaching within. Thus I would express what you acknowledge to be true while I am talking, and you are sure, and you affirm that you know these things. Whence did you learn them? You might say, perhaps, that I taught them? Then I would reply: What if I were to say that I had seen a man flying?
Would my words give the same certitude as if you were to hear it said that men of understanding are better than fools. You would surely answer in the negative; and you might reply that you do not believe the former; or, even though you were to believe, that you know nothing about it; but this latter, you would say you know most surely. From this discussion you would understand that you have not learned anything by means of my words, neither concerning the flying exploit, of which you knew nothing, nor concerning the relative worth of wise men and fools, of which you had knowledge. And indeed, even though you were to be questioned about each one of these points, you could take an oath that that is unknown, that this is well known to you.
Then, in truth, you would acknowledge all that you had formerly denied, when you knew with clarity and distinctness all the elements of which it consists. For whenever we say anything, either the hearer knows not whether or not they are true, or he knows that they are untrue, or he knows that they are true. In the first of these three he will either believe (take on trust) or he will form an opinion, or he will hesitate. In the second case he will either take a stand against what is said, or he will reject it. In the third he simply witnesses to what has been said (confirming its truth). In no one of these three cases does he therefore learn. For he who, after hearing our words, still remains ignorant as to their objective meaning; as he also, who knows that what he has heard is untrue; and he again who could have expressed the very same thought, if he had been asked, is proved surely to have learned nothing by means of my words.
CHAPTER 13 From the foregoing it follows, therefore, that in the things which are discerned by the mind, one who cannot grasp that which the mind of the speaker discerns, hears his words to no purpose, excepting the case where it is practicable to take a thing on trust so long as it cannot be known. On the other hand, he who can discern those things which are grasped by the mind is inwardly a disciple of the truth; in the world of external things, he is the judge of the one who speaks, or more properly of his speech. Not infrequently the hearer knows what has been said, though the speaker himself perhaps may not know the true meaning of his own words. For example, someone who follows the Epicurean school of philosophy, and who believes that the human soul is mortal, may express the arguments by which more far-seeing thinkers have proved its immortality. A person who can judge of spiritual things and who hears such arguments would consider them true. But he who speaks them does not know that they are true; furthermore, he thinks that they are quite untrue. Is he, therefore, to be thought of as teaching what he does not know? But he uses the very same words which one who knows could also use.
Wherefore now not even this is left to words, namely, that they express the mind of the speaker, since it is not certain at least whether he knows what he is talking about. Consider also those who lie and those who deceive, by whom you will easily understand that not only is the mind opened by means of words, but by means of words also the mind is concealed. For I do not by any means call into question the fact that the words of truthful men aim at this and profess to make clear the meaning, the mind of the speaker. They indeed would realize this, as everyone grants, if liars were not allowed to speak.
However, we may have experienced, both in ourselves and in others, that frequently words are expressed which are not the proper terms of the thought actually in mind. This I see can be verified in two ways: (1) either when something which has been committed to memory and frequently repeated is expressed by one who is thinking of other things, which often happens to us when we chant a hymn, (2) or, when aside from our intention, and by a slip of the tongue, some words escape us in place of others which we meant to say. For here too signs are expressed which are not of the things which we have in mind. And indeed those who lie also think of the thing that they are saying. Although we do not know whether or not they speak the truth, we do know that they have in mind what they are saying, if they do not do one of the two things previously mentioned. If someone insists that it does sometimes happen (though frequently it is unknown, and has deceived me often) , I do not oppose such a statement.
But in addition to these there is another class (of words that do not convey their meaning) , a class far-reaching indeed, and the source of numberless misunderstandings and disputes. It is that class which is involved when he who speaks is thinking of the same things which he utters, but for the most part only to himself and certain others. To the one to whom he is speaking, and to others also, the word has not the same meaning. Let someone say, for example, in our hearing, that by some brute animals man is surpassed in manly force (virtute); immediately, we cannot endure such a statement and with considerable feeling we reject the statement as false and repugnant. The speaker, perhaps, is using the term manly force (virtutem) to mean the physical strength of the body. And by that word he may be expressing that which he has in mind, neither lying, nor erring, nor putting together words that lingered in his memory, while he was turning over something else in his mind. And he is not, by a slip of the tongue, saying something other than that which he turns over in his mind, but is only calling the thing of which he is thinking by a name other than that which we call it. On this point we would be immediately agreed with him if we could read his mind and see directly the thought he was unable communicate to us. A definition, they say, will remedy this source of error; so that if, in this dispute, the speaker were to define what manly force (virtus) is, it would be clear that the disagreement is not about the objective reality but about the meaning of a word. If I am to grant that this is so, how often is one found who makes a good definition? And yet there are many arguments against the systematic teaching of the art of argument; which it is not in line with our purpose to study now, and they are not approved by me in all respects.
I pass over the fact that there are many things that we do not hear distinctly, and yet we insist long and forcefully as if we had heard accurately. For example, just a little while ago you were saying that you had heard that by a certain Punic word piety is understood, according to those to whom this language is quite familiar, while I said that the word means mercy. But I insisted that you had forgotten what you had heard. For it seemed to me that you had said, not piety, but faith, though you were seated quite close to me, and these two words do not by any means deceive the ears because of their similarity in sound. Yet for some time I thought that you knew not what had been said to you, but the truth was that I did not know what you had said. For if I had heard you correctly, it would not have appeared to me at all unreasonable that piety and mercy are signified by the same word in the Punic tongue. These things happen not infrequently, but we shall pass them over in order that I may not appear to be falsifying words, where the carelessness of the hearer is to be blamed, or again the deafness of men. Those points which I referred to above are more difficult, where by means of truly Latin words, clearly perceived, we cannot know the thought of the speaker even though we speak the same language.
But now I retreat and I admit that when words are perceived by the hearing of one who knows their meaning, he may be assured that the speaker has been thinking of those things which the words signify. But does it follow from this that he learns also whether or not the speaker has uttered the truth?
CHAPTER 14 For do teachers make the claim that it is their own thoughts which are perceived and retained by pupils and not rather the branches of learning which they communicate by talking? Who, indeed, is-so unreasonably careful as to send his child to school to learn what the teacher thinks? But all these branches of learning, which teachers profess to teach, the doctrine of virtue even and of wisdom itself, they explain through words. Then those who are called pupils consider within the inwardness of the mind whether what has been said is true, that is, in the measure of their own mental power they see the agreement that is within. Thus they learn and when the truth that is within makes known to them that true things have been spoken, they applaud, not knowing that their applause belongs rather to those who are taught than to their teachers, if indeed their teachers know what they are talking about. But men are deceived, so that they call teachers those who are not teachers at all, generally because there is no delay between the time of speaking and the time of thinking. And because after the suggestion of the one who speaks they learn instantaneously within, they think they have learned from him who spoke from without. : But if God so grants, we shall study at some other time the usefulness of words which rightly viewed is no small matter. For the present I have brought to your notice that we must not give to words more than belongs to them. So that now we May not only believe, but we may begin to understand also how truly the word is written on divine authority that we claim no one as our master on earth, because one is the Master of all in heaven. (Matt. 23:8-10) But what "in heaven" means, He will teach us by means of men, through signs and from without, so that we may turning to Him within become learned in the inner life of the soul. He will teach us, to love whom and to know whom is itself the happiness of life; that happiness which all men declare that they seek, but few have rejoiced in finding it. But now I want you to tell me what you think of this whole explanation of mine. For if you have approved all that has been said as true, then if you had been questioned on each statement you would have said that you did know it. You see, therefore, from whom you have learned these points. Surely not from me, to whom you could have given the correct answer if questioned. But if you had not known these things to be true, then neither do I teach you, nor he (the inner man, the judgment of reason from within). But I do not teach, because I never can teach; he (the inner man) does not teach, because you as yet are incapable of learning. Ad.—But I have learned by the admonition of your words that by the means of words a man can do no more than be admonished to learn; and that is very little, indeed, a fraction only of what a speaker thinks is expressed in his words. Moreover, whether the things that are spoken are true or not, I have learned that he alone can teach who dwells within, who reminds us that he is dwelling within, when words are spoken without. This same dweller within I shall now, by his own favor, love the more ardently as I advance in knowing him better. However, I am grateful for this reasoned explanation of yours which at all times anticipated and turned aside all the objections which occurred to me. Nothing that might cause me to doubt has been left by you, on which that unseen judgment within would not give the same answer to me as was stated by your words from without.
HE IDEAS Question Forty-Six from Saint Augustine's Book of Eighty-Three Various Questions' 1. They say it was Plato who first gave the Ideas their name. This does not mean that the realities themselves, which he called Ideas, did not already exist or that no one had ever perceived them, though the word did not exist before he introduced it. But they were given different names, perhaps, by different people. Anyone may impose any name at all upon an unfamiliar object that does not have a commonly accepted name. It is incredible that before Plato's time there were either no wise men or that these had not grasped the very realities, whatever they are, which Plato called the Ideas, as we have stated, since, in fact, so great importance is given them that no one can be wise unless he has an understanding of them.
It is likely that there were found wise men even outside Greece, among the other nations. Plato himself gave evidence of