The late fourteenth-century English Carmelite Richard Lavenham was a prolific author of Latin and vernacular treatises on logic, physics, philosophy, and theology. Among other works pertaining to natural philosophy, he authored the short Tractatus terminorum naturalium, preserved in three complete or almost complete late fourteenth- or early fifteenth-century copies, with the opening passage preserved in three other manuscripts. The text is fundamentally a redaction of the Heytesburian Termini naturales, a brief glossary of technical vocabulary of the natural philosophy and physics (...) of the Oxford Calculators, supplemented by additional textual and pictorial material. As such, Lavenham’s treatise is a specific branch of an influential tradition of school texts that took the form of elementary treatises, additional glosses, quaestio-commentaries, and excerpts. (shrink)

In the 1330s Roger Swyneshed formulated a solution to semantic paradoxes based on the distinction between correspondence with reality and self-falsification as truth-making factors. Since Swyneshed states that some valid inferences are not truth-preserving, his view implies the question of the general definition of validity which he does not address explicitly. Logical works attributed to Paul of Venice contain developments of Swyneshed's contextualist semantics substantially modified by the assumption that sentential meanings are objective propositional entities. The main goals of this (...) paper are to show the correlations between the ontological and logical developments of Swyneshed's semantics in the works of Paul of Venice and to outline a context-sensitive formal semantics that could serve as a model of this family of semantic theories. (shrink)

“The problem of universals” in general is a historically variable bundle of several closely related, yet in different conceptual frameworks rather differently articulated metaphysical, logical, and epistemological questions, ultimately all connected to the issue of how universal cognition of singular things is possible. How do we know, for example, that the Pythagorean theorem holds universally, for all possible right triangles? Indeed, how can we have any awareness of a potential infinity of all possible right triangles, given that we could only (...) see a finite number of actual ones? How can we universally indicate all possible right triangles with the phrase ‘right triangle’? Is there something common to them all signified by this phrase? If so, what is it, and how is it related to the particular right triangles? The medieval problem of universals is a logical, and historical, continuation of the ancient problem generated by Plato's (428-348 B.C.) theory answering such a bundle of questions, namely, his theory of Ideas or Forms. (shrink)

In the summer of 1980, I was privileged to be on the teaching staff of the Summer Institute on Medieval Philosophy held at Cornell University under the direction of Norman Kretzmann and the auspices of the Council for Philosophical Studies and the National Endowment for the Humanities. While I was giving a series of lectures on supposition theory, I went to my office one morning, and there under the door some anonymous wag from the Institute had slid the pen and (...) ink drawing you see in the graphic. It represents "Supposition" as a dragon, making a rude face at the viewer. The tail of the dragon is divided — not entirely accurately, as it turns out — into the various branches and subbranches of supposition. If the details are not altogether correct, the spirit is certainly understandable. I have absolutely no idea who the inspired artist was, but I have the original framed on the wall in my office. (shrink)

The “dragon” that graces the cover of this volume has a story that goes with it. In the summer of 1980, I was on the teaching staff of the Summer Institute on Medieval Philosophy held at Cornell University under the direction of Norman Kretzmann and the auspices of the Council for Philosophical Studies and the National Endowment for the Humanities. While I was giving a series of lectures there (lectures that contribute to this volume, as it turns out), I went (...) to my office one morning, and there under the door some anonymous wag from the Institute had slid the pen and ink drawing you see in the picture. It represents “Supposition” as a dragon, making a rude face at the viewer. The tail of the dragon is divided — not entirely accurately, as it turns out — into the various branches and subbranches of supposition. If the details are not altogether correct, the spirit is certainly understandable. (shrink)