Nicholas of Cusa's Coincidentia Oppositorum

 

    The English term "coincidence of opposites" is derived from the Latin term

coincidentia oppositorum, the fullest exploration of which is attributed to

Nicholas of Cusa, also called Nicolas Cusanus, whose 1450 Of Learned Ignorance

(De Docta Ignorantia), sets forth a theological and geometrical justification

for the concept.  Like the Romantics in the eighteenth and nineteenth

centuries, Cusanus in the fifteenth century felt discontent with the logical

exclusions imposed upon him.  Reacting against a theology that limited the

power of God and the power of man, Cusanus set forth a counter theory. 

Similarly, reacting against a neo-classicism that limited the power of man,

many Romantics accepted or assumed a theory similar to that of Cusanus. In

response to the limits set by the rational compromises that guided the

Enlightenment, Romantic writers sought a way to surpass exclusions by bringing

together forces that neo-classical thought kept separate.  Paradoxically, but

appropriately, neo-classical writers also used the coincidence of opposites as

a way of maintaining the status quo.  But while Pope, the example of neo-

classicism in this study, poses a mysterious coincidence of opposites that

keeps man and God separate, Blake, and to a lesser extent the other Romantics,

pose a coincidence of opposites that radically joins God and man.

    Cusanus does not receive much attention from historians of philosophy;

part of the reason can be found in the destructive nature of his theory, which

denies a major aspect of the tradition of reason in philosophy.  According to

Pauline Moffitt Watts, Cusanus's doctrine of learned ignorance

 

    begins at that very point at which the usual modes of philosophizing

    collapse; the root of "learned ignorance" is the fact that absolute truth

    is beyond man's grasp.  For this reason, Cusanus's new mode of speculation

    "undoubtedly vanquishes all modes of ratiocination of all philosophers." 

    <1> 

 

Ernst Cassirer puts the issue most succinctly: to reconcile opposites would

dissolve philosophy itself.  <2> 

    Because we in the twentieth century are so accustomed to an empiricist

perspective, the very basis of the coincidence of opposites can easily elude

us.  The difficulty of acknowledging the concept even when the writer

emphasizes it finds an unexpected example in Northrop Frye's posthumously

published work The Double Vision.  <3>  Even though Frye, probably the best

interpreter of Blake, takes his title from a poem by Blake, he interprets

Blake's double vision in a way that gives a priority which Blake does not give

and which the concept of the coincidence of opposites does not give.  The

phrase "double vision," occurs in a poem in a letter to Blake's patron Thomas

Butts:

 

    For double the vision my eyes do see,

    And a double vision is always with me:

    With my inward eye 'tis an old man grey;

    With my outward a thistle across my way.

                            (E721)

 

The poem goes on to see a living human in every object.  In his explanation of

this passage Frye comments, "the conscious subject is not really perceiving

until it recognizes itself as part of what it perceives."  This comment seems

valid enough; it emphasizes the unity of subject and object, which is

fundamental to the double vision which sees the coincidence of opposites. 

However, Frye goes on, "First, there is the world of the thistle, the world of

nature presented directly to us." <4>  A more careful reading of the quatrain

reveals that Blake "first" describes the vision of his "inward eye," which

perceives an old man grey, before he describes the vision of his "outward"

eye.  In a poem that emphasizes the constancy of his "double vision," Blake

aids us in seeing with that double vision by first mentioning the half of his

vision that is not ordinary sight, not what we would ordinarily, naturally

expect to perceive first.  Never, he claims, does he see with the single

vision (later labeled in the poem "Newton's sleep,") that most of us would see

and that Frye wants to put before us. 

    In Blake's double vision there is no such thing as "the world of nature

presented directly to us"; such a vision is single vision, which is always

already based on an ideology--in Blake's day, and in ours, usually an ideology

of empiricism.  Blake insists on always maintaining a double vision, in which

a man and a thistle are seen at the same time and to the same extent.  To help

us to overcome the limits of single vision, Blake first describes the man seen

by the inward eye.  Despite that word order, however, and despite Blake's

insistence on permanent double vision, Frye begins by interpreting the poem in

terms of single vision.  Such single vision seems most "natural" to us; Blake,

and to a lesser extent the other writers considered in this book, fight to

free us from that natural bondage.  Blake's reversal of the ordinary way of

seeing, an ordinary way of seeing that Frye himself falls into, implies a

coincidence of opposites by its very defiance of common vision.  Instead of

interpreting this passage with the priority given by Blake, Frye interprets it

with the priority given by ordinary vision, the very kind of vision that Blake

is replacing (or reversing or extending) in his poem.  Thus the simplest form

of the coincidence of opposites, a basic reversal in priority between

empirical vision and imaginative vision, becomes impossible to see with

ordinary vision.  Held prisoner by common sense, Frye over-rides even the most

obvious implication of Blake's insistent message and surprising word order to

impose the tyranny of single vision over the liberation of double vision. 

These comments are not meant to denigrate Frye but to illuminate how elusive

the coincidence of opposites can be even to the most perceptive observer.  Our

habitual, limited ways of seeing make Blake either impenetrable or easily

misconstruable.

    With a similar singleness of vision, Leo Damrosch, one of Blake's finest

interpreters, insists that proponents of the coincidence of opposites must

accept things as they are.  After explaining similarities between Blake and

Cusanus, he implicitly consigns the coincidence of opposites to the

conservative side: 

 

     In the end Blake cannot truly reconcile contraries because, like the

     Puritans whose moral intensity he shares, he can only solve the problem

     of alienation by exclusion or casting out: sheep and goats.  A true

     acceptance of opposites demands a skeptical temperament and a commitment

     finally to things as they are.   <5>

 

But how are things?  Damrosch falls into a trap similar to the one that

Northrop Frye falls into in The Double Vision: both Frye's "world of nature

directly presented to us" and Damrosch's "things as they are" imply an

empirical, common sensical seeing with the eye instead of an imaginative,

Blakean seeing through the eye. "I question not my Corporeal or Vegetative Eye

any more than I would Question a Window concering a Sight I look thro it & not

with it." <6>  Damrosch further loads his implicit dismissal of Blakean vision

with the phrase, "true acceptance."  What would be a "false" acceptance of the

coincidence of opposites?  According to Damrosch, Blake's "false" coincidence

of opposites asserts unity by excluding recalcitrant elements.  Instead, as I

shall demonstrate in my chapters on Pope and Blake, it is Pope who excludes by

accepting that there are things that we do not know, things that are known

only by God.  Blake, on the other hand, by insisting that man, like God, can

know all, produces a "true" coincidence of opposites, one that does not accept

the ideology of "things as they are." 

    Furthermore we probably should not look for Blake to "reconcile"

contraries.  When he defines the Prolific and the Devourer in The Marriage of

Heaven and Hell, he insists:

 

      These two classes of men are always upon earth, & they should be

    enemies; whoever tries to reconcile them seeks to destroy existence.

      Religion is an endeavour to reconcile the two.

      Note.  Jesus Christ did not wish to unite but to seperate [sic] them, as

    in the Parable of sheep and goats! & he says I came not to send Peace but

    a Sword.  <7>

 

    "'To believe in a God,' says Wittgenstein simply, 'means to see that the

facts of the world are not the end of the matter.'" <8>  Nor are they, in

Blake's vision, even the beginning of the matter.  I do not mean to belittle

Frye or Damrosch; I adduce these examples to show how easy, how tempting,

indeed how "natural" it is for us to fall into reading even Blake in

conventional terms, even when he is explicitly, directly urging a larger

vision upon us.

    Both Pope and Blake insist on an identity between the universal and the

particular, but they insist in very different ways.  Pope, more like Cusanus,

uses the coincidence of opposites to justify mystery, to build a negative

theology.  Blake, extending Cusanus's implications, uses the coincidence of

opposites to blast mystery, to build a constructive theology.  My chapters on

Pope and Blake will explore some of the details of this difference.  Even

though Pope uses the coincidence of opposites in a very conservative,

mystifying way and Blake uses it in a very revolutionary, opening way, both of

them include many strong elements of the opposite view.  For example, Pope

insists on the strength of the ruling passion, even though it apparently works

against reason; Blake insists that the traditional God of Sinai inspired

Jerusalem, even though most of the time he excoriates that God of mystery.

    As so often in philosophical issues, the lines of argument in the

coincidence of opposites can be traced back to Aristotle and Plato, or more

precisely to the traditions promulgated by the followers of Aristotle and

Plato.  In general the position that opposites can coincide derives from

Plato and his followers, especially Proclus the neo-Platonist, who especially

admired Plato's dialogue Parmenides.  (Cusanus himself commissioned a

translation of this dialogue.)  According to Ernst Cassirer, Cusanus more

than any other thinker carried on the line of Plato: "Cusanus . . . was

perhaps the first Western thinker to attain an independent insight into the

fundamental and essential sources of Platonic doctrine." <9>

    The followers of Plato adhered to the law of unity: the Many is finally,

ideally the One.  This idealistic monism traditionally has been seen as less

practical than Aristotle's more worldly viewpoint.  Raymond Klibansky quotes

the translator Georgius quoting Pope Nicholas V:

 

    Aristotle's political theory was more suitable to this life, while that of

    Plato was more appropriate to the state of innocence, had man not sinned

    and fallen.   <10>

   

Coleridge makes a similar distinction between Plato and Aristotle:

 

    Plato's words are preparatory exercises for the mind.  He leads you to see

    that propositions involving in themselves a contradiction in terms are

    nevertheless true; and which, therefore, must belong to a higher logic--

    that of ideas.  They are self-contradictory only in the Aristotelian

    logic, which is the instrument of the understanding.  <11> 

 


4

A common sense viewpoint, one at home in the real world, refuses its opposite,

an idealistic viewpoint, one at home in some other, better, imagined world. 

Coleridge, like Blake, sees through ordinary common sense to reverse that

natural viewpoint.

    The position that opposites can not coincide derives from Aristotle and

his followers, who asserted the Law of Contradiction, also known as the Law

of Non-Contradiction.  Certain pairs of statements necessarily contradict each

other and therefore can not both be true at the same time.  This axiom is the

most fundamental axiom of reasonable discourse, its sine qua non.  Thus when

Cusanus, and Pope, and Coleridge, and Mary Shelley, and Percy Bysshe Shelly,

and Blake attack or even simply question the Law of Non-Contradiction, they

are questioning not only Aristotle, but the very foundation of reason at its

most necessary and self-evident base.  As Aristotle asserts the axiom:

 

    the most certain principle of all is that about which one cannot be

    mistaken; for such a principle must be both the most familiar (for it is

    about the unfamiliar that errors are always made), and not based on

    hypothesis.  For the principle which the student of any form of Being must

    grasp is no hypothesis; and that which a man must know if he knows

    anything, he must bring with him to his task.  Clearly, then, it is a

    principle of this kind that is the most certain of all principles.  Let us

    next state what this principle is.  "It is impossible for the same

    attribute at once to belong and not to belong to the same thing and in the

    same relation"; and we must add any further qualifications that may be

    necessary to meet logical objections.  This is the most certain of all

    principles, since it possesses the required definition; for it is

    impossible for anyone to suppose that the same thing is and is not, as

    some think Heraclitus says--for what a man says does not necessarily

    represent what he believes.  And if it is impossible for contrary

    attributes to belong at the same time to the same subject (the usual

    qualifications must be added to this premiss also), and an opinion which

    contradicts another is contrary to it, then clearly it is impossible for

    the same man to suppose at the same time that the same thing is and is

    not; for the man who made this error would entertain two contrary opinions

    at the same time.  Hence all men who are demonstrating anything refer back

    to this as an ultimate belief; for it is by nature the starting-point of

    all the other axioms as well.  <12>                          

 

Among the many good explanations of Aristotle's idea is one by John Ferguson:

 

    Aristotle takes as the most certain of all principles the law of

    contradiction: 'the same attribute cannot at the same time and in the

    same respect both belong and not belong to the same subject' (1005b19). 

    He feels so strongly on the importance of establishing this that he

    offers a series of proofs of its validity: for example, if all

    contradictory statements are true of the same subject at the same time,

    then all things will be one; the blunt fact is that all men do make some

    unqualified judgments, and Aristotle is content to stick to the common

    sense of that.  . . . Aristotle denies that one opinion is as good as

    another, or that there is truth in appearances. . . .  Those who deny the

    law of contradiction need to be convinced that there is an unchanging

    reality, something which is prior to sensation. . . .  the alternative is

    a thoroughgoing relativism, which Aristotle regards as absurd. 

    (1011b23).  <13> 

 

We begin, then, in Aristotle's Law of Non-Contradiction, from a bedrock of

common sense, without which the entire universe of human epistemology would

supposedly collapse.  As Aristotle's ideas were extrapolated and discussed

through the centuries, and as the science of logic developed, hundreds of

elaborate and intricate schemes, replete with diagrams and the special

language of the cognoscenti, found their place in the ongoing discussion. 

Here is a typical example of a twentieth-century textbook exegesis:

 

    Standard-form categorical propositions having the same subject and

    predicate terms may differ from each other in quality [affirmative or

    negative] or in quantity [all, some, no] or in both.  This kind of

    differing was given the technical name 'opposition' by older logicians,

    and certain important truth relations were correlated with the various

    kinds of opposition.  Two propositions are contradictories if one is the

    denial or negation of the other, that is, if they cannot both be true and

    they cannot both be false.  It is clear that two standard-form

    categorical propositions having the same subject and predicate terms but

    differing from each other both in quantity and in quality are

    contradictories. . . .  The traditional or Aristotelian account of

    categorical propositions held that universal propositions [[1]A[1] and [1]E[1]] having

    the same subject and predicate terms but differing in quality were

    contraries. . . . Schematically we may say that the contradictory of "All

    S is P" is "Some S is not P," and the contradictory of "No S is P" is

    "Some S is P"; [1]A[1] and [1]O[1] are contradictories, as are [1]E[1] and [1]I[1].

    <14> 

 

Whether contraries or contradictories (we shall meet with some similar, but

more crucial distinctions later in Coleridge and Blake), the principle of Non-

Contradiction stands: logically, when contraries or contradictories exist, one

side completely, irrevocably, logically, common sensically excludes the other. 

They cannot both be true. 

   So powerful did Aristotle's Law of Non-Contradiction become in medieval

Christianity that it limited even the power of God: he could not do anything

that would violate that law.  The general philosophical problem of whether God

could contain logical contradictions sometimes found expression in one

particular question: can God foresee the future?  If he can, then man does not

have free will.  It is not possible for God to foresee something and for it

not to happen.  According to the Law of Non-Contradiction, we cannot have it

both ways at the same time.  Likewise, it would be impossible for God to

foresee that something will not happen and for that thing to happen.  Thus

God's foreknowledge and man's free will come into philosophical conflict, as a

subsection of the problem of non-contradiction even within the omnipotence of

God. 

    Cusanus's coincidence of opposites provides a way out of that dilemma. One

of his answers expands the concept of possibility:

 

    human nature embraces both those who are and those who neither are nor

    will be, though they could have been.  Consequently, if even what never

    shall be should come to pass, nothing would be added to divine Providence,

    for it equally comprises actual events and those which, though possible,

    do not take place.  <15>

 

Thus Cusanus's coincidence of opposites includes not only what happens or what

might happen; it includes both what will happen and what will not happen.  We

can have it both ways.  In fact, we must have it both ways.  In God's power,

the old Aristotelian Law of Non-Contradiction becomes replaced by the

coincidence of opposites.  The law of limited possibilities is transcended, as

is the law that two things cannot happen at the same time if they are

logically inconsistent.  For in the timeless mind of God, which contains all

of past, present, and future, all possibilities and all non-possibilities must

exist, including the improbable and the supposedly impossible. 

    Cusanus further develops his refutation of God's limitations that would be

imposed by the Law of Non-Contradiction:

 

    God's infinite Providence . . . embraces what shall happen and what,

    though possible, shall not happen; and, in much the same way as a genus

    contains different species, it includes things contrary to one another. .

    . . What God has foreseen He necessarily has foreseen, for His Providence

    is necessary and unchangeable; yet He was also able to foresee the

    opposite. . . . Though tomorrow, e.g., I can choose between reading and

    not reading, my choice, whichever it be, is known to Providence, for

    contraries are among its objects.  Therefore, whatever I shall have

    chosen to do will be done in accordance with divine Providence. 

    <16>

 

This kind of double talk clearly does not please the rational philosopher.  J.

B. Hawkins, in his introduction to Germain Heron's translation of De Docta

Ignorantia, gently mocks:

 

    There are not many who are likely to take all this very seriously as an

    adumbration of ultimate mystery.  Some will be irresistibly reminded of

    Lewis Carroll, and others may despise what seems to be no more than

    conjuring with words.   <17>

 

Certainly Cusanus is conjuring with words, but as a clever conjuror he

produces a magic that joyfully exploits the potential of language to reveal

and even embody the philosophical abstractions that fall short of explaining

life.

    Cusanus's coincidence of opposites frees man from the tyranny of the

senses, the tyranny of common sense, the tyranny of logic.  By freeing God

from lower logic, Cusanus also frees man into a closer apprehension of his

divinity:

 

    the coincidentia oppositorum represents more than Cusanus's critique of

    scholastic logic and natural philosophy.  Through it, Cusanus also

    transcends the late scholastic notion of the potentia absoluta of God;

    namely that God, through his absolute power, could do or make anything

    provided it did not violate the law of contradiction.  For Cusanus, the

    law of contradiction itself qualifies God's freedom and omnipotence.

    <18> 

 

    Thus Cusanus does, as will Blake, use the coincidence of opposites as a

way of freeing God from human constraints.  Blake, by combining human and

divine, will also free man from such a limited view of the divine humanity. 

Both Blake and Cusanus see God as more free than tradition allows:

 

    in conceiving of God as the coincidentia oppositorum, Cusanus went beyond

    all of the scholastics, and established more radical guarantees for the

    absolute freedom and transcendence of the divine.  <19>

 

Blake then goes further to establish yet more radical guarantees for the

absolute freedom and transcendence and immanence of the divine humanity.

    Ernst Cassirer, in very Coleridgean language, puts Cusanus firmly into the

history of philosophy when he insists on the central role that Cusanus played

in the Renaissance:

 

    Any study that seeks to view the philosophy of the Renaissance as a

    systematic unity must take as its point of departure the doctrines of

    Nicholas Cusanus.  Of all the philosophical movements and efforts of the


7

    Quattrocento, only his doctrines fulfil Hegel's demand; only they

    represent a 'simple focal point' in which the most diverse rays are

    gathered.  Cusanus is the only thinker of the period to look at all of the

    fundamental problems of his time from the point of view of one principle

    through which he masters them all. . . .  [That principle] includes the

    totality of the spiritual and physical cosmos.  <20>

 

As we shall see later, Coleridge insisted on a similar unified system.

    Cusanus's purpose in his coincidentia oppositorum could be said to be to

justify the ways of God to man, that is, to re-write man's perspective into

God's perspective.  From man's perspective, from the perspective of

Aristotelian logic, man and therefore God are both limited.  But from God's

perspective, according to Cusanus and the coincidence of opposites, God is not

limited.  The important thing for Cusanus is not the coincidence of opposites

per se, but rather the infinity of God.  The coincidence of opposites is a

tool for realizing, or at least accepting, that infinity.  Similarly, Blake

will use the coincidence of opposites as a tool for realizing the infinity and

unity of God and man.  Although Cusanus keeps an infinite distance between man

and God, Blake will bridge that distance.

    The path taken by Cusanus to reach his new concept of the freedom of God

in the coincidentia oppositorum begins with two opposing, complementary

principles: the principle of expansion and the principle of limitation.  The

principle of expansion states that man, like all created things, wants to find

his fullest possible self-expression:

 

    We see that God has implanted in all things a natural desire to exist

    with the fullest measure of existence that is compatible with their

    particular nature.   <21>

   

    In his exploration of the concept of the Great Chain of Being, A. O.

Lovejoy calls this principle the principle of plenitude. <22>  At the same

time, in the opposite direction, this striving toward fullness is limited by

the particular position of the creature.  In man's case, his inquiry must

begin with and is limited to what he knows.  These two opposing forces act as

centripetal and centrifugal forces, at once thrusting man out as far as he can

go to his potential and at the same time limiting him within his orbit. 

    Cusanus thinks that man must begin with what he knows from his limited

perspective.  Beyond what he knows, he can only analogize: "every inquiry is

comparative and uses the method of analogy." <23>   As we shall see, this

latter principle of limitation is the keystone to Alexander Pope's whole

theory of man's knowledge of the universe.  Here in Cusanus, the two opposing

tendencies work equally.  Cusanus's principle of limitation is based on a

concept of infinity as beyond human understanding and therefore beyond all

analogizing: "the infinite as infinite is unknown, since it is away and above

all comparison." <24>  Even the greatest possible expansion, the fulfillment

of man's capacities, no matter how close it might theoretically come, can not,

by its finite nature, achieve or comprehend the infinite.  Man's limitation

must finally over-rule his potential for expansion.

    As we shall see later, Blake denies this inaccessibility of the infinite

to man.  In particular in the tractates he insists that man could not desire

infinity if he did not perceive it:

 

    More! More! is the cry of a mistaken soul, less than All cannot satisfy

    Man. . . . The desire of Man being Infinite the possession is Infinite &

    himself Infinite.  <25>

 

Therefore perception must exist beyond the senses, and by implication beyond

the ordinary limitations as posed by Cusanus and Pope.

    Part of man's limitation resides in language, which embodies the problem

of specificity.  Just as we must, according to Cusanus, rise above our

physical human restrictions, so we must transcend language, which in its

abstractions allows us to formulate the Law of Non-Contradiction.  But in

Blake's poetry, language is used not only as a trap in the Law of Non-

Contradiction, but also as a means of escape.  Cusanus sees language as an

absolute limit to the potential of man's understanding of God.  Language must

therefore be transcended, risen above.  Blake's insight is that this kind of

transcendence can be blended with an absolute immanence.  Thus language, while

remaining limited by the real world, at the same time is the means of

transfiguration into the visionary world.  Cusanus wants to deny the potential

of language.  He values "rising above the literal sense of the words . . .

leaving aside what is sensible in them in order to arrive unimpeded at what is

purely intelligible." <26>  Cusanus's method thus sounds like traditional

Platonism: "the more we abstract from sensible conditions, the more certain

and solid our knowledge is." <27>  Cusanus's method leaves behind the

empirical as a standard.  He is not searching for something material.  He is

rather searching for something beyond the material.  To man's understanding

such a goal is nothing because it is not accessible to the senses: "an

understanding of God is not so much an approach towards something as towards

nothing."  <28>

    This negative theology, this insistence by Cusanus on wordlessness, of

believing in a realm beyond articulation even if we can never experience it

directly, is one of the main streams of his neo-Platonism.  The tradition of

Parmenides always leads to this wordlessness:

 

    In analogy with this movement of the Soul towards the One, Parmenides

    removes at the end of the discussion, not only all affirmation, but also

    all negation and, indeed, all speech, indicating that all discourse about

    the One leads to a point where language fails. . . .  The last step is to

    purge the Soul from all dialectic activity.  Thus, by negation, Parmenides

    removes negation itself.  And silence ends the discourse of the One.  <29>

   

Of course such silence would remove all language, all writing, all literature. 

That which Cusanus and Pope claim to be beyond the realm of language, the

coincidence of opposites, Shelley and Blake will manifest in language.

    Cusanus's denial of language is based on his search for a deeper truth, an

essence.  He believes that there is a bedrock truth, a Platonic Christian God,

whose fundamental nature is by definition unavailable to human understanding:

"the quiddity of things, which is ontological truth, is unattainable in its

entirety." <30>  Even though the method of attempting ignorant understanding

of the existence, essence, and ways of God must proceed from the known in

hopes of acknowledging the unknown, ultimately such a goal can never be

reached: "infiniti ad finitum proportionem non esse." <31>

    Man's limited understanding can never grasp the totality because of its

very nature: "what man observes in nature is absolute incommensurability . . . 

Man's reason operates only within the realm of inequalities and

contradictions." <32>  According to Cusanus, there is no proportion between

the infinite and finite because any proportion needs similar qualities. <33> 

Man's limited abilities mean that he can not by reason or understanding alone

reach the ultimate truth: "understanding . . . is fundamentally unable by any

rational process to reconcile contradictories." <34>

    In fact Cusanus even uses man's reason to link man to the natural level,

the level that he shares with the rest of the material, lower creation. 

Instead of reason being the highest quality of man, it is rather analogous to

t