1. Pre-Modern, Christian Conceptions
It must be duly acknowledged that the etymology of the word ‘saint’ is deeply embedded in the history of Christianity. It should seem only natural, then, that the earliest philosophers to concern themselves with the phenomenon of saintliness conceived of it as essentially religious in nature. Taken from the Western canon of Philosophy, these philosophers include, though by no means exhaustively: St Augustine of Hippo, St Thomas Aquinas, William of Ockham, St Benedict, Meister Eckhart, Desiderius Erasmus, Martin Luther, St John of The Cross, Voltaire, and David Hume.
It is the contention of Part One of this thesis that these philosophers and their conceptions of saintliness constitute, what I shall call, The Pre-Modern Era of The Philosophy of Saintliness. This era of The Philosophy of Saintliness is characterised by its utter dependence upon Christian conceptions.
While the eventual philosophical conception of saintliness to be advanced herein (see Part #4) is not intended to be in any way a religious conception (Christian or otherwise), nevertheless, critically surveying the Pre-Modern Era will prove fruitful in so far as it will demarcate the ultimate characterisation of saintliness from other, everyday, implicitly religious conceptions.
That said, it must nevertheless be acknowledged that the Christian-dependant conceptions of saintliness arising from the Pre-Modern Era will be, in each case, exposited only very briefly. Such an approach is thought to be justified as (i) my audience is assumed to have, at the very least, a culturally shared understanding of the Christian conception of saintliness, (ii) there are a number of very good books already available which can easily remedy any deficiencies there may be with my first justification, and (iii) issues of brevity demand that I take such measures where possible, so as to enable a more detailed examination of the more philosophically and culturally curious conceptions encountered in the subsequent parts of this thesis.
1.1 Augustine and The Metaphysical
‘It comes to this,’ Tarrou said almost casually, ‘what interests me is learning how to become a saint.’
‘But you don’t believe in God.’
‘Exactly. Can one be a saint without God? – that’s the problem, in fact the only problem, I’m up against to-day.’
Albert Camus. The Plague.
The sentiment of this question, as was expressed by Albert Camus’ character, Jean Tarrou, accords well with the overall aim of this section – ‘Can one be a saint without God?’
In a strictly philosophical context, such as we presently find ourselves, this matter is perhaps better phrased: Is one’s conception of saintliness necessarily dependent on a concomitant belief/faith in God?
Allow me to flesh out the differences between the two phrasings:
(1) In its original form, the question might be thought to pertain to whether or not a person could attain saintliness (perhaps with all its attendant religious consequences) without faith in God. That is to say, for instance, if one believes that the saints, by definition, are in union with the divine in an afterlife, the crux of the issue might be whether salvation in the afterlife is possible (i.e. permissible by God) given that one was an atheist in their earthly life.
Alternatively, one might place a more pragmatic emphasis on issues of Psychology, reading the question as follows: Without faith in God, is it humanly possible to muster the type of will necessary for performing saintly acts?
(2) In rephrasing the question, I have hoped to shift the emphasis away from issues of supernaturalistic metaphysics, and towards issues of morality. As will soon be apparent, without an explicit belief in God, the afterlife, etc., saintliness is essentially a moral concept. The problem with which I am presently concerned can now be seen to take the following, more precise form: ‘Without attendant metaphysically-religious presuppositions, what can be said of the concept of saintliness?’
With the above thoughts in mind, one of the first great philosophers to concern themselves with saintliness, St Augustine of Hippo (354-430), conveys a notion of saintliness at odds with the characterisation I am seeking to explicate herein. Indeed, the vast majority of St Augustine’s commentary on ‘the saints’ takes the form of metaphysical speculation/revelation, as can be seen from the following summary of the conception of saintliness advanced in his work, City of God:
Saints lose nothing by being deprived of temporal goods, for they will be infinitely recompensed with heavenly rewards. While it is appropriate to show respect for the corpse of a saint in order to promote faith in the resurrection, a of lack burial does not matter to a Christian because God’s omnipotence will be able to completely restore the body at the time of the resurrection. A saint in captivity is consoled by God’s presence. God can instruct a saint to do what otherwise would be a sin, such as suicide. Christians do not make sacrifices to deceased saints. Demons were allowed power by God only for the greater glorification of the saints through their steadfast endurance of sufferings. God is the source of the power of the saints, and of their purification. Saints existed before Christ, but are nonetheless justified by the mystery of his incarnation and their faith in him. If one is a saint, death is no longer the punishment of sin. Rather, it is a gift by which men pass into eternal life. God’s promise of eternal, resurrected life refutes everyday empirical evidence concerning organic decay. Deceased saints wait happily in the heavenly regions for the resurrection, upon which, they will only have to eat or drink if they want to, as their immortality will be assured. By setting one’s heart with the utmost ardour, hope, and confidence upon the eternally blissful life after death promised to the saints, a person may achieve happiness in this most miserable earthly existence. The saints in heaven will have full knowledge of the eternal punishment that the wicked suffer without having to leave their blessed abodes, so that they recognise the wicked for what they are. In accordance with the prophecies of Daniel, the saints will have to endure three and a half years of the Antichrist’s reign before they receive their everlasting kingdom. At the time of judgement, the boundless compassion of the saints will not induce them to intercede for the souls of sinners, for God has promised eternal punishment and so it will be. No matter how ravaged or deteriorated the saint’s corpse may be, at the time of the resurrection, God will not only resurrect it, but will perfect it.
It is interesting to note here, that when Augustine writes of ‘the saints’, he is referring to a rather specific historical sense of the term. As Richard Kieckhefer explains:
[It wasn’t until The Middle Ages that] the Church developed technical meanings for the word [‘saint’], of which three are still current. First, in the broadest sense, a saint is a person who is leading or has led a life of heroic virtue. Second, a saint is a person who has gone to heaven, whether that fact is recognized or not; the Feast of All Saints is celebrated in honour of all members of this class. Third, in the narrowest sense, a saint is a person who, by virtue of the Church’s judgment that he or she is in heaven (i.e. by reason of canonization), is the legitimate object of public cult.
So, while Saint Augustine himself belongs to the third sense of the term (and presumably, by extension, to the first two as well), Augustine’s own conception of saintliness refers to the second definition only (as being inclusive of the first). This conception is, however, more in keeping with the biblical usage of the term. Indeed, the theological emphasis that Augustine placed on the Scriptures suggests that he acknowledged the ‘saints’ given therein. However, given his historical context, when Augustine wrote of the saints, he was not referring to a specific set of canonised individuals such as the Roman Catholic Church knows today. Nor was he referring exclusively to those individuals that were informally venerated as saints by a cult following. Rather, when Augustine speaks of ‘the saints’ he means, quite simply and quite broadly, those individuals who have led a life of heroic virtue and thus will attain salvation.
Unfortunately, while the former characterisation of one ‘who has led a life of heroic virtue’ will be later shown to accord well with my own conception of saintliness, the latter supernaturalistic notion of ‘salvation’ breaches the conceptual boundaries set for this thesis, and so must be deemed unacceptable.
By no means do I hereby intend to refute or in any way discredit the metaphysical beliefs held by St Augustine. With respect to such matters, I remain philosophically agnostic. I do, however, think it philosophically prudent to exclude such beliefs from our present inquiry. What is at issue here is essentially metaphilosophical in nature; i.e. the establishment of parameters by which one can confidently conduct an explication of a philosophically adequate conception of saintliness. These restrictions are thought to be necessary for the following reasons:
Philosophically speaking, justifications for the majority, if not all, supernaturalistic and religious metaphysical systems are highly contentious and/or inadequate. Therefore, it would be imprudent to invoke any particular such metaphysical commitment to serve as the foundation for a philosophical characterisation of saintliness. Furthermore, it would go far beyond the scope of this limited thesis to attempt to satisfactorily establish any particular such metaphysical commitment (eg. the existence of God), in order to subsequently employ it as a foundation for a philosophical characterisation of saintliness. Certainly, if I believed that another philosopher had elsewhere achieved such a result, I can see no reason why I should not build this thesis upon their established metaphysical foundations. Unfortunately, I do not believe that any philosopher has accomplished such a feat, and so, in good conscience, this path is closed to me. As I mentioned earlier, I remain philosophically agnostic, and so too must my characterisation of saintliness. With this in mind, the first metaphilosophical parameter of this thesis can be stated as follows:
[MP1] A philosophically adequate conception of saintliness must not be founded upon metaphysically contentious commitments.
1.2 Aquinas and The Theological
At first glance, the writings of St Thomas Aquinas (1225-1275) appear to be a more promising philosophical candidate than those of his predecessor. This is principally owing to his explicit conception of ‘human perfection’, as is evidenced in the following quotation :
[Human] perfection is possible in this life, and in two ways. First, so far as everything incompatible with charity, i.e., mortal sin, is excluded from the will of a man. Without this type of perfection, charity cannot exist; and hence it is necessary for salvation. Secondly, so far as the will of man rejects not only what is incompatible with charity, but even that which would prevent the affection of the soul from being directed totally to God. Charity can exist without this perfection, for example, in beginners and the advanced.
Although it is tempting to align with saintliness all that Aquinas has to say concerning human perfection, such a move is problematic, for the following reasons:
(1) The notion of Divine Grace and Cooperation is absolutely essential to Aquinas’s conception of human perfection. For reasons established in the preceding section (#1.1), such metaphysical presuppositions preclude the conception from further consideration within the context of this thesis.
(2) While it seems reasonable to assume that the two concepts (human perfection and saintliness) are in some sense synonymous, my researches of secondary sources have not provided me with confidence to believe that Aquinas himself employs them as such. Nor am I myself qualified to pass such a judgement. Moreover, when Aquinas writes of ‘the saints’, he appears to be primarily referring to the saints of Scripture. This is, however, unsurprising considering the explicit theological enterprise that he is engaged in.
This final point requires elaboration, as it will demand the setting of yet another metaphilosophical parameter:
Theology, as Aquinas understands it, has recourse to the unquestioned authority of the Scriptures. Moreover, the dogmatic authority of the Scriptures is believed to be legitimated by virtue of its unique epistemological status of ‘divine revelation.’ Certainly, Aquinas rejects biblical literalism. However, it cannot be doubted that, although it is necessary to make the correct interpretation, the authority of the Scriptures themselves is nonetheless considered to be final and unwavering.
For the very same reasons given in the determination of MP#1, I can establish the following metaphilosophical parameter:
[MP2] A philosophically adequate conception of saintliness must not be founded upon Theological authority.
Indeed, in response to the very first question of the mammoth Summa Theologiæ, St Thomas Aquinas himself writes: Scriptura autem divinitus inspirata non pertinet ad philosophicas disciplinas quœ sunt secundum rationem humanam inventæ.
Why it is that the preclusion of Theological conceptions is thought to warrant mention in addition to metaphysical conceptions in general, perhaps requires brief explanation:
When someone makes justificatory recourse to contentious metaphysical concepts, such as God, the afterlife, etc., then, psychologically speaking, it is apparent that they are appealing to the authority of the concept itself (though presumably within the context of the overall metaphysical system thought to support it). In contrast, when engaged in Theological undertakings, one has recourse to concrete resources (eg. the Scriptures) that, psychologically speaking, suggest a more substantial authority. Compare, for instance, the following two supposed justifications:
a) ‘It is God’s grace that makes the love of saints possible.’
b) ‘Jesus said, “Love thine enemy.”’
In the case of (a), one would immediately demand of the speaker that they provide further supportive evidence for the ‘fact’ of God’s grace (if not existence altogether!). In the case of (b), however, there is the appearance of fact; that is, of a commandment made by a historical figure.
In Philosophical circles, this latter form of recourse to authority is all too common. For instance, one might be heard to say “Well, Aquinas said God does not compel a human being to good action by his aid [of grace]. ” If the underlying metaphysical system thought to support such a statement is acceded to by all parties, then such an invocation of authority might be deemed justified. If, however, no such agreement is in place, then such a strategy is rendered mere argumentum ad verecundiam.
In the context of this thesis, this final evaluation is made of any theological claim concerning saintliness, for, while any particular statement or conception might prima facie seem coherent or justified, given that it is ultimately founded on ‘un(meta)philosophical’ grounds, then, for the reasons given in Section #1.1, it must be precluded from the undertaking at hand.
Some may feel that I am being overly brash in this rather sweeping injunction; that, perhaps, the possible inclusion of the conceptions of saintliness made by our first two great religious philosophers (not to mention the many others) may actually help inform the explication herein. That is to say, that while one cannot, in accordance with the set parameters, condone their conceptions in themselves, one still may be able to draw positively from their insights.
Although, in principle, I readily concur with this commendation, I must nevertheless insist that the reasons offered in Section #1.1 warrant the strategy adopted herein. As should be apparent from the lengths I have already gone to in order to extricate my conception from the religious, the associations that the concept of saintliness carries are thought to run deep. If one were to attempt merely to philosophically engage with the likes of Augustine and Aquinas, let alone attempt to establish the veracity of their position, the number of qualifications needed to disassociate the theological from the philosophical would require a Masters thesis in itself.
Nevertheless, the engagement with both Augustine and Aquinas has not been without benefit, as the following points reveal:
1) With respect to the genealogical account I am developing, both of these Doctors of The Church must be acknowledged as having a profoundly significant influence on the philosophical etymology of the concept of saintliness. Indeed, in response to the earlier hypothetical suggestion that, leaving their metaphysical commitments aside, a characterisation of saintliness may benefit from the insights provided by these great philosophers, I believe that the influence that these religious conceptions have had on the entire history of the Philosophy of Saintliness is so significant that we can pass over their particular instantiations without fear of neglecting such conceptions in general. That is to say that one need only think of the Christian conception of ‘saintliness’ generally to grasp the core of these early philosophers’ own conceptions.
2) Furthermore, the engagement with the work of Augustine and Aquinas, for what it was, has enabled the establishment of metaphilosophical parameters vital to the later explication of a philosophically acceptable conception of saintliness.
1.3 Erasmus and The Superstitious
One of the earliest philosophers to openly criticise the phenomenon of saintliness and its surrounding practices was Desiderius Erasmus (1466-1536). The possible reasons for the previous quiet are numerous, and range from censorship, to the concept’s informal status. However, with the publication of Erasmus’s scathing satire, In Praise of Folly (written for his friend, Sir/St Thomas Moore), philosophical conceptions of saintliness began to break away from their deeply religious origins, and move independently towards Philosophy proper.
In order to emphasise the disparities between the earlier, more orthodox philosophies of saintliness with what became the revolutionary philosophy of Erasmus, I have included below, a rather long, though still heavily abridged passage from this remarkable text:
[Folly says:] Such things [as miracles and fictitious marvels] not only serve remarkably well for whiling away a tedious hour but can also be profitable, especially for preachers and demagogues.
Closely related to them are the people who’ve adopted the foolish but pleasurable belief that if they see some carving or painting of that towering Polyphemus, Christopher, they’re sure not to die that day …
… Then there are people who rely on certain magic signs and prayers thought up by some pious impostor for his own amusement or for gain – they promise themselves everything, wealth, honours, pleasure, plenty, continual good health, long life, a vigorous old age, and finally a seat next to Christ in heaven. However, that’s a blessing they don’t want until the last possible minute …
…It is much the same when separate districts lay claim to their own particular saints. Each one of these is assigned his special powers and has his own special cult, so that one gives relief from toothache, another stands by women in childbirth … and so on – it would take too long to go through the whole list…
But what do men seek from these saints except what belongs to folly? Amongst all the votive offerings you see covering the walls of certain churches right up to the very roof, have you ever seen one put up for an escape from folly or for the slightest gain in wisdom? One man escaped drowning, another was run through by his enemy and survived, another boldly (and equally fortunately) fled from battle and left his fellows to continue to fight. Another fell down from the gallows, thanks to some saint who befriends thieves, and went on to relieve a good many people of their burden of wealth. This one broke out of prison, that one recovered from a fever, to the annoyance of his doctors; yet another swallowed poison, but it acted as a purge and did him good instead of killing him – a waste of effort and money for his wife, who was not at all pleased. Another upset his wagon but drove his horses home unhurt, another escaped with his life when his house collapsed, and another was caught in the act by a husband but got away. Not one of them gives thanks for being rid of folly, and so it’s pleasant not to be wise that mortals would prefer to pray for deliverance from anything rather than from me.
Erasmus’s criticisms are justified, however, only in so far as the ‘foolish but pleasurable’ beliefs are conceded to be superstitious and/or frivolous. Moreover, one would be mistaken to draw from the above that Erasmus was attacking the belief in the intercessory powers of the saints altogether; this is obvious at the close of the quoted paragraph, where the criticism is not levelled against votive offerings being made in themselves, but because they were done so only in the hope of idle self-gain.
The question of whether or not one should concur with Erasmus’s evaluation is a matter for further consideration, and, furthermore, suggests an interesting ‘loophole’ to the metaphilosophical parameters set in the previous two sections (MPs#1&2). For while Erasmus never questioned his faith in the supernaturalistic metaphysical status attributed to (religious) saints, he was nevertheless able to coherently criticise the earthly practices associated with such beliefs. This is to suggest that, in the context of this thesis, while one need not make any commitment to the underlying metaphysics held by the participants of the Christian phenomenon of saintliness, one might, nevertheless, evaluate the psychological impetuses that motivate them.
For instance, it certainly seems superstitious to believe that anyone who observes an image of St Christopher will not die that same day. Yet, that one shouldn’t have the belief that one will not die that day, is a matter of more subtlety.
When one considers the all too common anxieties that people can suffer from, especially when travelling, the appeal of historical or mythical figures such as St Christopher should be unsurprising. If we ignore the more metaphysically contentious belief that saints can miraculously intercede on one’s behalf (which Erasmus himself held), there appear to be obvious and rather innocuous psychological reasons that one might look to the saints for confidence and inspiration.
In much the same way that an atheistic scholar may quite reasonably admire and draw inspiration, motivation and confidence from the examples set by great scholars of the past, so too may the theistic saint venerator look to particular figures who best address their concerns. So it seems only natural that a thought/prayer/observation of St Christopher can allay one’s daily anxieties of travel, and, similarly, that the highly industrious and prodigious St Thomas Aquinas is regarded as the legitimate patron saint of scholars.
That is to say, that if a person is fear-stricken by the unjustified belief that they will die in transit that day, psychologically, it is understandable that they would look to great heroic travellers for confidence in the counter-belief that they will not die that day. That such a resolution is as equally superstitious is obvious, but the above account does not seek to condone such folly – only to understand it.
While these thoughts go some distance to disarming the force of the criticisms made by Erasmus in the second and fourth paragraphs of the passage quoted above, I think that the impact of the criticisms made in final paragraph can be undermined also. Certainly, the insinuation that people are foolish to place a higher value on spiritually trivial gains, than on more substantive gains in wisdom, does seem warranted. However, that people do in fact commonly favour the one over the other isn’t immediately apparent from the nature of the votive offerings that Erasmus produces as evidence. Indeed, I suspect that it is quite understandable why these particular occurrences result in feelings of gratitude to such figures as the saints of religion, whereas matters of wisdom and the like do not.
When one escapes death (as is the case of the majority of the examples given ), it is difficult not to see it as fortuitous in every sense of the word (i.e. as being out of one’s control, auspicious, and fateful ). This is not surprising, for as St. Augustine wrote: “I am certain of this, that no one has died who was not going to die at some time …” Thus, when one narrowly avoids death, even if by means of one’s own ingenuity, it is readily seen to be something of a grandly metaphysical matter, which, as it happens, is the very realm the religious saints are thought by many to occupy. While people may well hold the good riddance of folly as inestimably valuable to their lives (and even their salvation), it seems only natural that the attainment of wisdom should not suggest the same strikingly metaphysical significance to the bearer.
Unfortunately, Erasmus wasn’t attempting to make a point similar to that which the completed quotation of St Augustine makes (i.e. “… and the end of life reduces the longest life to the same condition as the shortest.” ). Erasmus’s suggestion was that “mortals would prefer to pray for deliverance from anything rather than from [Folly].” Although, as we have seen, people do seem quite understandably more inclined to pray (or to give thanks) when faced with immediately obvious matters of mortality, it does not thereby demonstrate that people value these fortuities over and above the attainment of wisdom.
Although the above considerations do indeed seem to undercut the force of Erasmus’s criticisms of the religious superstitions surrounding the phenomenon of saintliness, by no means can such psychological insights be thought to sway the sympathies of a philosophical fanatic. Take, for instance, a different example:
When one considers that the first saints were martyrs for their fledgling religion, it is easy to conjecture that the tendency to venerate such individuals was brought about by an emotional need to bolster the required steadfast religious convictions of those who would quite likely have to stand and face the same fate.
Although curious, the psychological validity of such speculation goes no distance in either confirming or denying the content of the venerators’ beliefs. With this is mind, the argumentative strategy Erasmus employed to satirise the supposedly misdirected veneration of religious saints is unable to overturn the metaphilosophical parameters set in the preceding sections (#1.1&2).
All this, however, has not been without significance, as such conceptual differentiation between saintliness in itself and the practices surrounding it will become crucial to the final conception of saintliness advanced in Part Four (See esp. Section #4.6).
1.4 Luther and The Ecclesiastical
Martin Luther (1483-1546), as is commonly known, was the father of the Reformation. However, most will be unfamiliar with how his philosophy of saintliness worked to serve his cause.
Similar to Erasmus, Luther wrote caustic satires of the phenomenon of the religious veneration of saintly figures. As Richard Kieckhefer recounts:
In 1520 [Martin Luther] wrote an anonymous pamphlet parodying a relic collection of the Archbishop of Mainz; he listed as items in this collection “a fine piece of the left horn of Moses, three flames from the bush of Moses on Mount Sinai, two feathers and an egg from the Holy Ghost, an entire corner of the banner with which Christ rose from Hell”, and so forth. The pamphlet reads like a heavy-handed parody until one turns to the archbishop’s own official catalogue and finds listed there such treasures as a clod of earth from the place where Christ gave the Lord’s Prayer, a small piece of a cloak that Mary made for Jesus (and which had the marvellous power to grow as he did), two vats from Cana, one of Judas’s silver pieces, and remains of manna from the desert.
Indeed, even in his most famous 95 Theses, it is easy to see how Luther’s strictly theological conception of saintliness was able to serve his cause:
The treasures of the church, out of which the pope distributes indulgences, are not sufficiently discussed or known among the people of Christ
Here, Luther is seen to be attacking the Roman Catholic Church’s stance that supplications made in the form of monetary contributions had the power to procure some of the stock of divine merit that the church’s saints had acquired in their lifetime. While it had long been integral to the religious phenomenon of saintliness that “those in heaven would intercede on behalf of supplicants who paid reverence to their earthly remains”, this relatively new development appeared to Luther as blasphemous in the extreme.
As Bernard Lohse explains, “in this period [circa 1517] Luther had not progressed to the point where he totally rejected indulgences.” However, by the time he wrote his 1530 work, On Translating: An Open Letter, it is quite apparent that he did eventually come to totally reject the notion of saintly intercession altogether:
There is not a single word of God commanding us to call on either angels or saints to intercede for us, and we have no example of it in the Scriptures … Thus the worship of saints shows itself to be a mere trumpery of men and an invention of their own, outside the Word of God and the Scriptures.
This is not to suggest that Luther rejected the notion of saintliness altogether. That such a view would be mistaken is evident from his lecture, entitled ‘Who be rightly called saints, and be so indeed.’ Although Luther considered it to be inappropriate that saints should be worshipped or thought to intercede, he nevertheless believed in the phenomenon restrictedly.
Martin Luther is significant to the present undertaking for the following two reasons:
1) His conception of saintliness played a significant role in one of history’s most significant revolutions: the Reformation. Moreover, with respect to the genealogy of saintliness, Luther’s writings altered the more widespread, general conception in such a way as to provide subsequent conceptions with a more receptive audience.
2) Luther’s attack on the authority of the papacy and other ecclesiastical bodies thought to be divinely inspired, suggests yet another metaphilosophical restriction:
[MP3] A philosophically adequate conception of saintliness cannot be founded upon philosophically unjustified authority of institutions.
While Luther was able to make recourse to Theological authority in order to establish the character and nature of saintliness (not to mention a list of particular ‘saints’), as I argued in Section #1.2, we have no such refuge here. Certainly, it would remain permissible from this to investigate any one of the particular ‘saints’ canonised by the Roman Catholic Church, or venerated by the Anglican Church. However, they would have to be judged individually on their own merits, and not according to the dogmatic authority of the Church (or the profound influence exerted thereof). Unfortunately, I am again prevented from this course of action generally, for a want of space; to undertake a critical investigation of all the various canonised saints would lead us far beyond the scope of this thesis. This limitation might also be framed as a more specific metaphilosophical parameter, extended from that of MP#3. Accordingly, I will deem it to be only a subclause, stated it as follows:
[MP3.1] A philosophically adequate conception of saintliness may only make recourse to individual ‘saints’ belonging to institutions such as the papacy on the terms of their individual own merits, which must be explicitly justified.
1.5 Voltaire & Hume and The Moral
Has it ever been fully realised that for the longest time all these [ascetic] tendencies ran counter to the requirements of accepted ethics…?
Friedrich Nietzsche. Genealogy of Morals.
The literally revolutionary views of Erasmus and Luther, as exposited above, recast the tone of philosophical conceptions of saintliness forever. In the following two philosophers, Voltaire and Hume, this is especially obvious. Whereas their predecessors merely criticised the morally dubious superstitions that so popularly centred around the phenomenon of saintliness, these following two ‘moral’ philosophers of saintliness indirectly called into question the underpinning supernaturalistic metaphysics, that, for many, were the religious bedrock of saintliness. The extent to which they had consciously intended to achieve this outcome is a matter of some doubt. What is certain, however, is that, whereas their predecessors criticised the beliefs and practices surrounding all things saintly, both Voltaire and Hume directly criticised the practices and beliefs commonly regarded to constitute saintliness in itself.
Born one and a half centuries after the death of Martin Luther, François-Marie Arouet (a.k.a. Voltaire (1694-1778)) would anticipatorily capture the essence of Contemporary, Ethical conceptions of saintliness. Taking his predecessor’s criticisms to the next level, Voltaire called into question not the practical and moral worth of the superstitions surrounding all things saintly, but rather the practical and moral worth of saintliness itself. For example, consider the following passage from his Philosophical Dictionary:
We live in society, so there is no true good for us but what is good for society. A solitary is sober and pious, he wears a hair-shirt: very well, he is a saint. But I shall not call him virtuous until he has performed some virtuous act from which other men have benefited. So long as he is alone he is neither beneficent nor maleficent: he is nothing to us. If saint Bruno brought peace to families, if he helped the indigent, he was virtuous. If he fasted and prayed in solitude, he was a saint. Virtue between men is a commerce of beneficence. No account should be taken of any man who had no part in the commerce. If this saint were in the world he would no doubt do good in it; but so long as he is not, the world will be right not to call him virtuous: he will be beneficial to himself, and not to us.
In what is a remarkably similar passage, David Hume (1739-1790) echoed the sentiments of his French counterpart, in his Enquiries Concerning The Principles of Morals:
Celibacy, fasting, penance, mortification, self-denial, humility, silence, solitude, and the whole train of monkish virtues; for what reason are they everywhere rejected by men of sense, but because they serve to no manner of purpose; neither advance a man’s fortune in the world, nor render him a more valuable member of society; neither qualify him for the enjoyment of company, nor increase his power of self-enjoyment? We observe, on the contrary, that they cross all these desirable ends; stupefy the heart, obscure the fancy and sour the temper. We justly, therefore, transfer them to the opposite column, and place them in the catalogue of vices; nor has any superstition force sufficient among men of the world, to pervert, entirely these natural sentiments. A gloomy, hair-brained enthusiast, after his death, may have a place on the calendar; but will scarcely ever be admitted, when alive, into intimacy and society, except by those who are as delirious and dismal as himself.
What is significant to the genealogy of philosophical conceptions of saintliness is that both philosophers criticised the moral worth of what were then thought to be saintly practices. It would, however, be misguided to believe that Hume and Voltaire had a shared conception of saintliness. While Hume generally thought that the supernaturalistic metaphysical status attributed to saints arose from lay superstition, Voltaire never went so far as to call into question the religious phenomenon of saintliness in general. Certainly, it is tempting to read from the passage quoted above, that Voltaire is, in a similar vein to Hume, delineating ‘the virtuous’ from ‘the saintly.’ And yet, to read the following defence against charges of idolatry in Christian practice, is to see the matter aright:
… we have saints instead of their demi-gods, their secondary gods, but we respect neither rank nor conquests. We have raised temples to men who were simply virtuous, who for the most part would be unknown on earth were they not placed in heaven. The apotheoses of the ancients were procured by flattery, ours by respect for virtue.
Here, it is apparent that for Voltaire, virtuousness and saintliness (when rightly conceived) are inexorably bound together. In this light then, we see that the previous quotation wasn’t so much against the notion of saintliness generally (as it was for Hume). Rather, it was that Voltaire believed that social morals should be integral to its conception.
Both Voltaire and Hume’s conceptions of saintliness are seen to be significant in so far as they shifted the focus away from attendant metaphysical beliefs and practices associated with religious saints, towards the morality of saintliness itself. As the genealogical account advances, it will become apparent that it was these two philosophers of saintliness who heralded the essentially ethical emphasis central to present-day philosophical conceptions.
That they nevertheless belong to the Pre-Modern Era is not so much a cause of chronology, as it is a matter of conceptual dependence. As is consistent with the characterisation of the Pre-Modern Era given in Section #1.0, both Voltaire’s and Hume’s notions of saintliness were entirely dependent upon Christian conceptions. That they both railed against such conceptions, to varying degrees, in no way diminishes such a conceptual dependence.
1.6 Conclusions
(#1) The Pre-Modern Era of our genealogy of The Philosophy of Saintliness is characterised by its dependence on Christian conceptions.
(#1.1) As was shown in the case of St Augustine, such dependence on religious metaphysics can run so deep as to warrant the exclusion of any further critical engagement in a philosophical thesis such as this.
(#1.2) While the philosophy of ‘human perfection’ put forward by St Thomas Aquinas initially seemed a more promising candidate than that of his predecessor, as it was given in a strictly theological context, for reasons similar to that of #1.1, it was also excluded from further consideration. This metaphilosophical conclusion was then extended to preclude all Theological authority as providing a foundation for a philosophically adequate conception of saintliness.
(#1.3) While the conclusions of the preceding sections appeared broadly restrictive, the critical philosophy of Erasmus (though not engaging with the religion itself) revealed that it was nevertheless legitimate to speculate about the psychological motivations people might have for such beliefs/commitments. Although it was suggested that such an approach is pertinent to the eventual conception of saintliness explicated herein, it was concluded that these insights could not sway the philosophical fanatic or overturn the conclusions of the preceding two sections.
(#1.4) Martin Luther’s philosophy of saintliness, while itself having recourse to theology, nonetheless revealed that in the context of this thesis, ecclesiastical authority/dogma must also be precluded from any philosophically adequate conception of saintliness. While this was not thought to prevent the philosophical consideration of any particular ‘canonised saint’, issues of brevity were again invoked as inhibiting the adoption of such an approach herein.
(#1.5) The philosophy of saintliness advanced by Voltaire and David Hume, although at odds in some important respects, were significantly alike in so far as they both emphasised the importance of social morality in any legitimate characterisation of saintliness. As our genealogy will reveal, this move accords well with contemporary philosophical conceptions. Their genealogical difference, however, is that as they properly belong to the Pre-Modern era, the philosophies of saintliness put forward by Voltaire and Hume were both dependent upon Christian conceptions.
