Republic of Siena

According to legend, Siena was founded by Senio and Ascanio, who were sons of Remus (who founded Rome with his brother Romulus). More verifiably, Romans established a military outpost in 30CE.

After the fall of Rome and prior to the Republic of Siena, for many years the city and area was run by the bishops. During a territorial dispute with Arezzo, the bishop asked for help from the nobility, who demanded a greater say in administering the city in exchange. This led eventually to ending the control by the bishops and the founding in 1125 by a consular government.

Siena prospered under the Republic, becoming a center of money-lending and the wool trade. It expanded its influence over Southern Tuscany. In 1286 the government evolved to the Nove, "The Nine," chosen from the Noveschi political party of wealthy merchants. Under the Nove Siena rose to new heights of power, producing the Cathedral of Siena and improving the city walls.

Under the Noveschi, Siena's political and economic power grew in southern Tuscany until it became a rival to Florence. Of particular issue was the fact Siena was predominantly Ghibelline versus the Florentine Guelphs. This post explains the difference; Dante mentions their conflict in his Commedia. With help from Manfred of Sicily, Siena defeated Florence in the 1260 Battle of Montaperti. Some 15,000 Florentines were killed in the battle, and Siena entered a Golden Age until...

...the Black Death. Siena was devastated, In 1355, just as they might have been recovering from the plague, Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV of Luxembourg entered Siena and the population decided to throw out the Nove and the power of the Noveschi, replacing it with the Dodici, "The Twelve." They were presently replaced by the Quindici, "The Fifteen" in 1385, then the Dieci (Ten, in 1386), then the Undici, (Eleven, 1388-1398), followed by the "Twelve Priors" from 1398-99. Ultimately, all these experiments in governing by councils ended when the fear of Florentine expansion motivated the city to turn to a single strong ruler, Gian Galeazzo Visconti, the first Duke of Milan.

Tomorrow I'll tell you about the return of the Nove, the decline of the Republic, and (my favorite), the "mount of piety," which still exists.

Cimabue

Cimabue (c.1240 - 1302) was an Italian painter and a designer of mosaics. In case you have not yet heard of this man, his name is pronounced (forgive the amateur phonics) chim-uh-boo-ee. His real name was Cenni di Pepo. The nickname is thought to mean "bull-headed" (see the third paragraph for a possible explanation).

Born in Florence, he probably studied originally under Byzantine-style artists, but he "rose above it." His painting style is credited with defying the usual flat medieval style and developing more realistic proportions with lifelike shading. Giorgio Vasari centuries later told the tale that it was Cimabue who came across a young Giotto sketching sheep and, so amazed at his realistic drawing, invited him (with Giotto's father's permission) to come to Cimabue's studio.

Vasari, supposedly quoting a contemporary of Cimabue, says "Cimabue of Florence was a painter who lived during the author's own time, a nobler man than anyone knew but he was as a result so haughty and proud that if someone pointed out to him any mistake or defect in his work, or if he had noted any himself... he would immediately destroy the work, no matter how precious it might be."

In a case of the student exceeding the master, Dante mentions (not places, although Cimabue was dead by the time Dante was writing the Commedia) Cimabue in the Purgatorio as an example of fleeting fame while discussing those who suffer from excessive pride: “Cimabue thought himself the master of painters; Giotto took from him the glory and relegated him to oblivion.”

To be fair, however, Cimabue was not relegated to oblivion. We are aware of several works by Cimabue (more than those of which we can be certain were made by Giotto). For instance, the illustration above is a small detail (Judas betraying Christ) from a fresco in the Church of San Francesco (St. Francis) in Assisi, commissioned by Pope Nicholas IV (the first Franciscan who became pope).

Cimabue is also credited with the round stained glass window of the choir of Siena Cathedral, as well as a painted Madonna and Child (now in the Louvre), and the fresco Christ Enthroned between the Virgin and St. John the Evangelist in Pisa Cathedral.

One interpretation of Cimabue's impact on art is to call him the first great artist of the Italian Porto-Renaissance. I suppose Proto-Renaissance could use some explanation, which I'll provide tomorrow.

Paolo and Francesca

In the 2nd circle of Hell in Dante's Inferno, Dante and Virgil see two lovers, Paolo and Francesca, condemned for lust (see the illustration by Dante Gabriel Rossetti). Just as they allowed themselves to be swept away by their passions, they are buffeted by heavy winds. Francesca tells her story, while a silent Paolo weeps in the background.

She was seized with a powerful passion while reading the story of Galehaut (mentioned in yesterday's post). the theme of such a strong love "overpowered" the two. Unfortunately, she was married to Paolo's brother, who killed the two for their affair.

The two were historical figures: Francesca da Polenta, married to Giovanni Malatesta, and Giovanni's brother Paolo Malatesta (who was also married). The marriage was not one of love. Francesca's father was at odds with Giovanni's father, who was lord of Rimini. The marriage was designed to make peace between two noble and powerful families. Some time in the early 1280s, Giovanni found the two in Francesca's bedroom, and killed them.

In Dante's telling, Francesca blames the overwhelming power of Love for her actions and misfortune, accepting no blame on the part of the two lovers. Despite this, she becomes for Dante an example of the love poetry he himself wrote about earlier in his career. She tells her story without interruption, and becomes a symbol of a strong woman condemned by circumstance outside her control, because of the power of the story of Galehaut. Dante draws a parallel between the great love tale from literature and the real love tale before him.

So now we come to the point of what we started yesterday: why did Boccaccio subtitle his Decameron with Prencipe Galehaut? Boccaccio uses Galehaut—especially through the lens of his hero Dante's use of Galehaut as inspiration for Francesca's and Paolo's actions—as a symbol of his regard and compassion for women who have never been allowed the freedom of men to do as they wished. It is his acknowledgement that women should be given agency: as the women in the Decameron not only share equal social standing with the men in their ten-day community, but also in the stories told of women who manage by their wits or gain the outcomes they want.

If they were historical figures, was their affair so well-known that Dante would know the details? As it happens, remember that I told you here that he spent his final years in Ravenna? His host was Guido Novello, also known as Guido Il da Polenta, lord of Ravenna from 1316 to 1321, and the nephew of Francesca da Polenta!

Ravenna must be a little interesting, since Dante chose it for his retirement. Let's learn the delights of Ravenna next time.

The Titles of the Decameron

Giovanni Boccaccio played around with titles, and not only for his own works. Dante Alighieri's magnum opus was called by the author Commedia, "Comedy," but in later years it began being referred to as the "Divine Comedy" by Boccaccio, and the name stuck. Boccaccio had a good reason for tacking that adjective onto Dante's work, and not just because of the obvious reason.

When Boccaccio wrote his Decameron (c.1353), he apparently thought of it as a parallel or complement to Dante's work, because Boccaccio sometimes called his tale of ten young people telling ten stories per day for ten days  l'Umana commedia ("the Human comedy").

Besides that, Boccaccio also had a subtitle for the Decameron that is often overlooked, and the explanation for it has a couple of layers. His subtitle (seen above in an early Italian edition) was Prencipe Galeotto, or "Prince Galehaut." Who was that, and why was it important to Boccaccio? What message did it convey to his audience?

Galehaut was well-known to the medieval literary crowd as a prince from the Arthurian legends, specifically from the French Lancelot cycle. Galehaut was a half-giant who brings a massive army to challenge King Arthur's rule over Logres. Galehaut's forces are superior, but he is so enamored of the prowess of a Black Knight fighting for Arthur's side that he stops the battle solely for the opportunity to meet this knight and spend time with him. TheBlack Knight turns out to be a young Lancelot, and thus begins a deep friendship between the two, interpreted by some as a strong chivalric bond and by some as a homosexual bond.

Enter Guinevere. Galehaut realizes Lancelot's love for Guinevere, and steps back from Lancelot to avoid being "in the way." Later, when Guinevere is accused oof infidelity to Arthur and flees, Lancelot and she find refuge in Galehaut's castle. Galehaut dies at the age of 39 from his unrequited longing for the man he gave up. He is laid in a magnificent tomb that he had built to commemorate their friendship. Lancelot at his death is also laid in that tomb, side by side with Galehaut.*

Galehaut becomes a symbol of greatness, abandoning one's own desires for the sake of another's. How does this apply to the Decameron? 

For that, we need to turn to Dante again, and visit the second circle of Hell where we meet two lovers, Paolo and Francesca. Come back tomorrow, and we will start to put it all together.

*Malory changes this story, using the name Galahad.

Giovanni Boccaccio

Giovanni Boccaccio (1313 - 1375) was eight years old when Dante died, but he revered the man and wrote a biography about him. He even gave a series of lectures in Florence on Dante's works—a first for a non-Classical Era writer. He was more than just a fan of another, however, becoming a treasured poet in hid own right.

Like Dante, Bocaccio wrote in Tuscan vernacular rather than Latin, and he wrote in prose, telling stories that captured the imagination and inspired others, including Geoffrey Chaucer.

Boccaccio grew up in Florence. His father worked for the banking/trading company of the Bardi; Giovanni worked there for a brief time, deciding that it was not a profession to his liking. His father came head of a branch in Naples, taking the family there, and Giovanni persuaded his father to let him study law at what is now the University of Naples (where Thomas Aquinas had been 100 years earlier). Six years of studying canon law taught him that he liked that profession no more than he liked banking.

Two good things came from his time in Naples. One was his love for Fiametta. That was not her name; simply what he called her in his writings. If she existed, she was really Maria d'Aquino, illegitimate daughter of King Robert the Wise of Naples, whom he saw and with whom he fell in love. He wrote a novel about her, and mentions her in many other writings.

The other good thing from his time in Naples was that he began writing. He produced works such as Il Filostrato, about star-crossed lovers during the Trojan War (which became a source for Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde and Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida), and Teseida, nominally about Theseus but dominated by the rivalry of two young knights over a woman (and the source of Chaucer's "The Knight's Tale" in The Canterbury Tales).

He also wrote the first Italian prose novel, Il Filocolo, the story (well-known in Europe) of Florio and Biancifiore, two lovers from different stations in life. Fiametta appears as the "queen" of a "noble brigade" who pose questions to each other about love.

Perhaps his best-known work is the Decameron ("Ten Days"), in which a group of young men and women flee who flee Florence during the Black Death to the hills outside, where they spend ten days telling stories. More on that tomorrow.

Dante's Comedy

During his lifetime, Dante Alighieri was embroiled in Florentine politics, but along the way he found time—well, he was in exile and had leisure time he would not have had if he had remained a politician in Florence— to write a masterpiece of medieval poetry. He called it the Commedia, and it has three parts:  Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso.

The work is made of 100 canti, a one-canto introduction and three sections each with 33 cantos, representing (I assume) the 33 years of the life of Christ. It is written in a three-line scheme called terra rima, and runs ABA BCB CDC DED, with lines of 11 syllables each. Therefore, each three-line section in each canto is also 33 syllables.

Numbers remain important in the "geography" of the afterlife. Each of the three parts of the afterlife nine levels, plus one "climactic" level. Nine rings in Hell and then Lucifer at the very bottom, nine levels climbing Mount Purgatory with the Harden of Eden at the summit, nine areas of Heaven plus God at the top.

Written in Tuscan Italian, its popularity helped establish that dialect as standard Italian. The poem also offers us a view of the world and afterlife that is representative of its time. The story is framed as a pilgrimage by the narrator, Dante, who is given a tour of the three realms of the afterlife.

There are three tour guides in this pilgrimage. Taking him through Inferno, Hell, and part of Purgatorio, Purgatory, is Virgil. Not only was Virgil a respected Roman Piet whose works were admired by Dante, but also he was considered to be a "Christian prophet" of sorts because one of his writings was interpreted by St. Augustine and others as a predictor of Jesus Christ. He was considered a "virtuous pagan" by the Christian Middle Ages. From the Inferno we get the notion of the several layers of Hell going deeper as the sins get worse.

While in Purgatory, Virgil hands the narrator off the Beatrice, Dante's childhood friend and first and greatest love whom, as an adult, he had not seen in years. She represents divine revelation, and shows him the souls whose failings are not so great that they cannot eventually gain Heaven.

When he reaches Heaven, Paradiso, his guide is none other than St. Bernard of Clairvaux, who represents contemplative mysticism and devotion to the Virgin Mary.

He includes many real historical figures in the Commedia, especially those whom he considered his enemies while they were alive. In Purgatory he sees Mechthild of Magdeburg, Peter Damian, Manfred of Sicily, Frederick II, Pope Boniface VIII, Michael Scot, Peire d'Alvernhe, and many others.

Dante merely called his great work Commedia, but an admirer and biographer (and a poet in his own right), Giovanni Boccaccio, added the adjective "Divine," which stuck. Boccaccio, along with Dante and Petrarch, forms the peak of medieval Italian literature, and we'll take a better look at him tomorrow.

Dante in Exile

Pope Boniface VIII had a grievance with Dante Alighieri. Dante at that time was a politician, having been in the very important position of prior of Florence (although for only two months). He was also of the new White Guelph faction that wanted Rome and the papacy to have less influence over the rest of Italy. (Guelphs were originally supportive of papal authority, but the recent Battle of Campaldino resulted in Florence having much more influence over a larger territory, and many Florentines felt they no longer needed the pope's support behind them.)

While Dante was in Rome, Black Guelphs took over Florence, replacing the government with their own people. In March 1302, Dante was accused of corruption and financial wrongdoing while prior. Moreover, although the pope had "kept" him in Rome, the Black Guelphs considered his absence from Florence for so long an admission of guilt and an attempt to flee justice. He was fined and exiled for two years.

He did not pay the fine: not only did he not have access to his assets back in Florence, but also he considered it spurious and he refused to honor it. He was therefore condemned to permanent exile, and threatened with being burned at the stake if he returned to Florence (unless he paid the fine). Dante participated in attempts by White Guelphs to re-take control of Florence, but they all failed. Ultimately, he abandoned ever returning and went to Verona for a time (illustrated above in 1879 by Antonio Cotti). He also spent time in Scarzana, and probably Lucca. Of his wife and family, only one son, Jacopo, accompanied him into exile.

As the guest of others, he had time to write. He wrote an open letter to Holy Roman Emperor Henry VII, urging him to restore the glory of the Roman Empire (and free Florence from the Black Guelphs). He also wrote De Monarchia, proposing a universal monarchy under Henry. Henry did defeat the Black Guelphs in Florence in 1312, but that did not mean Dante would return. There is a suggestion that the White Guelphs were not happy with Dante; urging a foreigner to attack their beloved Florence was inappropriate, to say the least, even if the result was desirable.

In 1315, the person controlling Florence offered general amnesty to exiles, but it required public penance and a fine; Dante objected to both options, earning himself a death sentence. He spent his remaining years in Ravenna, and died there of malaria on 14 September 1321. His grave contains a line by a fellow poet: parvi Florentia mater amoris ("Florence, mother of little love").

His bones remained a point of contention. Florence came to regret their treatment of the poet, and requested that he be interred there in a tomb they built for him, but Ravenna went so far as to hide his remains, and the tomb in Florence remains empty after seven centuries. In 1329, a Cardinal declared Dante's Monarchia heretical, and wanted to dig up his remains and burn them at the stake.

In 2008, Florence officially rescinded the death sentence.

Having come this far with Dante, I suppose it would seem remiss to ignore the work for which he is best known. Comedy for tomorrow it is, then.

Guelphs & Ghibellines & Dante

The Guelphs and the Ghibellines were two Italian political factions in the Middle Ages, offering more and less support for the papacy, respectively. They even went to war over the topic, as depicted in this 1292 fresco.

Dante Alighieri was born into a Guelph family, and at the age of about 24 he fought in the Battle of Campaldino between Florence and her allies against Arezzo. The catalyst for the war is unknown: an account many years later from a Florentine claimed there were "outrages" committed by Arezzo. Retaliation by the Guelphs over these "outrages" caused Arezzo to gather a military force to oppose them.

There was a rumor that the bishop of the see of Arezzo was going to turn the commune over which he had authority (a place called Bibbiena Civitella) and connected villages to Florence for the price of 5000 gold florins annually. Arezzo forced this bishop onto a horse and led him to the battlefield from which, not surprisingly, he did not return.

The wealth of Florence enabled them to have a force that was superior in numbers (about 12,000, of which 10,000 were infantry), armor, and weaponry. The Ghibelline force was smaller but better trained, consisting of feudal lords and their military retinues, rather than paid volunteers as in Florence and her allies.

The Florentines were also hampered by their leader. The various communities from which the troops were drawn could not decide who should lead them, so they agreed on a mercenary, Aimeric IV, Viscount of Narbonne. He had distinguished himself as a fighter, but did not have much experience as a leader. He came to Italy in the service of Charles I of Anjou, but suffered from a serious impediment: he did not speak Tuscan Italian, making the relaying of his orders delayed as they had to be translated, as did the news for him from others of what was happening in different parts of the field.

Ultimately, the Guelphs won with superior numbers, and Florence was able to exert much more influence over more of the Italian peninsula on behalf of the papacy. Without a strong mutual enemy in Ghibellines anymore, however, the Guelphs fractured. The Black Guelphs continued their support for the power and authority of the popes, whereas the White Guelphs wanted more freedom from Rome.

The Battle of Campaldino was fought in June of 1289. Dante, a member of the White Guelphs, went on to hold some political offices, including prior of Florence. In 1301 he was part of a delegation to Rome to determine the intentions of Pope Boniface VIII toward the French ambassador Charles of Valois, the brother of King Philip IV. (Philip and Boniface had clashed over the topic of taxation.)

When the pope dismissed the rest of the delegation, he told Dante he had to stay. This did not turn out well, as I'll explain tomorrow.

Dante Alighieri

Dante Alighieri was an Italian poet and politician, born in Florence to a wealthy landowner. His mother died when he was less than ten years old, and his father died during his teens.

The date of his birth is not recorded, but hints in his writings suggest 1265. At the beginning of the Divine Comedy, the 1st part called Inferno, he says he was "midway on the journey of our life." If we assume the three-score years and ten of the Bible was considered typical, then he started when he was 35 years old. Since the Comedy (that's what he called it; Boccaccio tacked on the adjective later, and it stuck) was written in 1300, that would put his birth year at 1265. He also refers to himself as being born "revolved with the eternal twins," which suggests he was born under the astrological sign of Gemini. That puts his birthday between c.21 May and 20 June.

He was educated at religious schools, where he was introduced to much Italian poetry, and the writings of Cicero, Ovid, and Vergil.

When he was nine years old, he met Beatrice Portinari, the daughter of a banker, and fell in love at first sight. Despite whatever feelings he had for her, he was engaged at 12 to marry Gemma di Manetto Donati, of the powerful Donati family; they were wed probably in their early 20s, and had (we think) four children, of whom one, Jacopo, became a poet as well. Dante never wrote anything about his wife. Boccaccio, whose life overlapped Dante's, says his marriage brought him only trouble and pain.

A typical young Florentine Guelph, he fought for his province against Arezzo Ghibellines in the 1289 Battle of Campaldino. When the grandson of Charles I of Anjou, Charles Martel of Anjou, visited Florence in 1294, Dante was one of his escorts. Because a 1295 law required anyone aspiring to public office to be in one of the corporation of professions, he enrolled in the Apothecaries Guild. (Interestingly, books were sold from apothecary shops, so it seemed an appropriate choice for a poet and lover of poetry.) He held various small offices over the years.

The Guelphs (as opposed to the Ghibellines) were a group that supported the papacy. After the conflict mentioned above, however, the Guelphs split into two factions: White Guelphs (Dante's party) and Black Guelphs. The White Guelphs wanted more freedom from Rome, which became a problem for Dante, as I'll explain next time.

Peire d'Alvernhe, Poet and satirist

I mentioned that, for all our talk of courtly love in the Middle Ages, the only use of the actual phrase was in a single Provençal poem. The author of that poem was Peire d'Alvernhe, a troubadour born about 1130. He produced 21-24 poems (authorship can be difficult to determine) by 1170. He was known well-enough that Dante names him in the Divine Comedy.

An anonymous biographer tells us he was handsome and charming and wise, and that he spent time in Spain at the court of Alfonso VII of Castile and his son Sancho III. The biographer calls his poems the greatest poems ever except for the slightly later Giraut de Borneill. A contemporary of Peire's, Bernart Marti, wrote a poem in which he accuses Peire of entering a religious life but abandoning Holy Orders.

Not only did he abandon the religious life, he also abandoned the concept that brought us to this blog entry. The reference to courtly love is in a poem in which he praises love of the Holy Ghost over that of cortez amors de bon aire, "well-spirited courtly love." In this preference of spiritual over carnal love he (and others) followed the influence of one of the earliest troubadours whose name we can put to his poetry, Marcabru (active 1130 - 1150).

Of all Peire's poems, modern scholars have spent the most time and effort discussing a particular one: Chantarai d'aquest trobadors ("Song of wandering troubadours"), a sirventes or "service song" used by troubadours to address a particular subject for educational purposes. In this poem he describes a dozen known troubadours, criticizing their looks and their poetry before proclaiming himself their superior. Although critical, it is seen as a good-natured parody, and he ends by telling the listener that it was composed "while laughing and playing."

On the other hand, if the twelve other troubadours were not present to laugh along with their descriptions, would an audience be familiar enough with the others to understand that it was all in fun? On the other other hand, it does give us (as few pieces of medieval literature do) give us information about specific poets we might not otherwise have, allowing us opportunities to identify authorship for some of the troubadours' works.

Peire d'Alvernhe, Bernart Marti, Marcabru, Giraut de Borneill—we have many names of troubadours, but what did they have in common? What made a "troubadour" rather than just a poet? Let's talk about the troubadour life tomorrow.

Vision of Tnugdalus

The 12th century saw a burgeoning of literature by figures whose names we actually know, like Marie de France and Chrétien de Troyes (mentioned here), Thomas of Britain and Hue de Rotelande. Then there were less clearly known names like Marcus, supposedly an itinerant Irish monk in the Regensburg, Germany, monastery called the Scots Monastery. The only item written by Marcus is the Visio Tnugdali, the "Vision of Tnugdalus," found in five 15th century copies, one of which is Cotton Caligula A.ii, found in the famous Cotton Library, that includes several other romances.

Written shortly after 1149, it is an account told to Marcus by a knight, Tnugdalus, called Tundale in English manuscripts. Marcus claims also to have translated the story from an Irish version. We are told that the story took place in Cork in 1148.

The story is of the wealthy Tnugdalus, who loved stealing, sex, and food and drink. He fought and gossiped and never did any good works. One day he goes to collect a debt owed to him. The borrower is unable to pay, and Tnugdalus flies into a rage. The borrower remains calm and talks Tnugdalus down, and invites him to a meal. While eating and drinking, however, Tnugdalus starts to feel ill, starting with his arm becoming paralyzed. When he tries to rise from the table, he collapses; he becomes cold as the proverbial stone, except for some slight warmth on his left side (where the heart is)?

This was on a Wednesday. The slight warmth leads those around him to keep him above ground. He regains consciousness on Saturday afternoon, upon which he has a story to tell.

He says his soul awakened in a dark place, and he wept, sure that his sins had caught up with him in the afterlife. A horde of foul and noisy creatures come rushing toward him, claiming that his sins confirmed his status as one of them! While he cowers before them, a point of light appears and grows closer, ultimately arriving and turning out to be his guardian angel, who asks him "What are you doing here?"

The angel tells him that he still has a chance to be saved. The horde freaks out about this, but the angel turns to Tnugdalus and says "Quick! Follow me!" The angel leads him through a dark tunnel, where the angel's light reveals the souls being tormented for different sins. This Dante-esque journey reveals more and more types of torment for different sins, some of which Tnugdalus experiences for a time, until the angel takes him on to the next experience. Ultimately, nearing the gates of hell, he sees Satan himself, a 150-foot tall human-shaped and thousand-armed creature chewing souls in his sharp teeth a thousand at a time.

Purgatory is also on the itinerary's. great relief to Tnugdalus, who wants to stay there, but the angel assures him that even better awaits, and takes him to Heaven. They stand on a wall in Heaven—seen in the illustration above—and Tnugdalus now grasps knowledge of everything, and can see anything, no matter how far away. Suddenly,

... Saint Ruadan approached them. He welcomed Tundale happily, took him into his arms and hugged him.

‘My son, your arrival here is blessed indeed,’ he said, and they stood together. ‘From now onwards, while you live in the world you can look forward to a good end to your life. I was once your patron saint and in your worldly life you should be willing to show me some generosity and to kneel, as you well know, in my presence.’

St. Patrick is also seen, as well, as several historical deceased Irish bishops. Tnugdalus asks to stay, but is told that is not possible unless someone has led a good life. Tnugdalus must return to his body and change his ways if he wants to see this place again. Tnugdalus re-awakens in his body, astonishes all the people surrounding him by that and by the promise to amend his life.

The story is reminiscent of the Irish immram (Irish "voyage"), a hero's journey, usually by sea, through fantastical and legendary places. Marcus wrote in Latin, although he says he translated an Irish-language account. The story was translated into several languages, at least into French, German, and Norse. The Cotton version is Middle English. You can read a Modern English version here.

I'm curious about the place where Marcus wrote. What was a Scots Monastery doing in Germany? Tomorrow I'll tell you about the Schottenkirche.

Peter Damian & Omnipotence

St. Peter Damian, letter writer

Peter Damian (c.1007 - 21 February 1072/3), the author of the Liber Gomorrhianus, was more than just a critic of priests' vices. He was a reformer whose piety caused him to be named a Doctor of the Church and to be placed in one of the highest levels of Heaven by Dante.*

He has a place in philosophy, however, due to one of the 180 letters he wrote. This particular one is called De divina omnipotentia ["Concerning divine omnipotence"]. In it, he discusses two questions that came up in a mealtime conversation during a visit to the Abbey of Monte Cassino.

Before we jump into his answers to the two questions in his letter, we must first bring up the Law on Non-contradiction, which states that a thing cannot be at once true and untrue. Sounds sensible. Aristotle in his Metaphysics states definitively that "contradictory propositions are not true simultaneously." He was building on Plato and Socrates and others.

The two questions that Damian tackles are these:

1. Can God restore a woman's virginity?
2. Can God undo history?

Damian maintains the view of God's omnipotence that says he can restore virginity. Virginity is a good thing, and so regaining it is a good thing; God will do something if it is a good thing. Therefore, God can and would do it, if He felt the situation warranted it. Restoring virginity would require two things: restoring the merit of virginity and restoring the physical change that loss of virginity causes (restoring the "integrity of the flesh"). The first is accomplished by returning to God's Grace, the second a simple matter of God restoring a person's flesh to an earlier condition.

Does this, then, imply that Damian believes that God can undo history? Not quite. In the case of restoring virginity, Damian states that God can do so as a miracle in the present time. He is not undoing an event that took place; He is changing a person's current state back to an original state.

Then what about history?

Damian, after a long and complicated discussion of the law of non-contradiction (and criticism of his peers for not understanding the subtleties of the question), explains that God cannot turn what has been done into something that has not been done. He denies, however, that this is an instance of a lack of omnipotence. Damian argues that God's omnipotence is His ability to bring about what is good. Creating a contradiction by changing what has been done to something that has not been done would be creating a contradiction, and therefore would be a bad thing. It would be turning something into nothing, and God creates things out of nothing, He will not create nothing out of something.

Okay, fine, but what about evil things? Wouldn't it be good for God to undo evil actions? Damian gets a little vague about this, and tells his audience not to worry about evil things. Evil things don't have the same kind of existence/value as good things, and so to erase them does not create a contradiction in the same way as erasing from the historical record a good thing.

Well, who am I to argue?

*In Canto XXI of the Paradiso, in the Seventh Heaven, a bright soul comes to speak to Dante and identifies himself as Peter Damian. The subject of corrupt popes comes up (surprise!).

Assembly Line

Detail of the Venetian Arsenal from theCivitates Orbis Terrarum [1572]

When we think of Venice and boats, we think of gondolas being poled through quiet canals. Venice, however, was a powerful presence in the Mediterranean not because of gondolas but because of larger ships that transported people—either for military or religious purposes.*

At some point—possibly in the very early 1100s during the reign of Doge Ordelafo Faliero, or perhaps even earlier—a complex of state-owned shipyards was begun, called the Arsenale di Venezia ["Venetian Arsenal"]. It was designed to provide private shipbuilders with a facility to produce ships for themselves or the state. In 1320, the complex was upgraded to the Nuovo Arsenale ["New Arsenal"] as a place to "build and maintain navy and merchant ships, all in one location." [source]

The Arsenal is probably the first example of large-scale factory work prior to the Industrial Revolution. The complex grew to cover 110 acres, and had a forest dedicated to its lumber needs. The workers, called arsenalotti, numbered in the thousands at the height of production and were said to be able to produce a ship in less than 24 hours. One of their techniques was to build the frame first rather than the hull first. Once the frame was finished, different crews could move in with their pre-fabricated parts for assembly. Rigging, sails, weapons, etc., were prepared by separate teams for the appropriate type of vessel. Dante even mentions this process in Canto xxi of Inferno. These specialists also made improvements in technology, particularly in weaponry. Gunpowder weapons—bombards and handguns—were a particular interest.

Much of the complex is now in ruins, but you can see the Porta Magna, the "Great Gate" that provided the seaward entrance, here.

*Some day I promise to get to my favorite Crusade, the 4th, and how it went horribly wrong.

Scholar of the Supernatural

[I am on a brief vacation, so here is a post from the past. This post first appeared 23 August 2012.]

In Dante's Inferno, the eighth circle is reserved for sorcerers, astrologers, and false prophets. There the narrator sees Michael Scot. You might think, if someone were so well-known after his death, that we would know more about him. Well, we know a little, but we have some cool stories.

Michael Scot, depicted here tearing up the Scriptures.*

Michael Scot was no doubt born in Scotland, although other locations (like Salerno and Toldeo) have tried to claim him. Dates of 1175-c.1232 seem to work for what little we know of his life. We know that Pope Honorius wrote to Stephen Langton on 16 January 1223, urging him to grant Scot a religious position, and that Honorius himself nominated Scot for Archbishop of Cashel. If Scot was educated sufficiently to be offered these positions, he would not have lived until 1290, which is the date Sir Walter Scott offers for his death. (Scott was confusing Scot with a Sir Michael Scot who lived later.)

Scot turned down the position in Cashel; it looks like he did hold benefices in Italy, however, spending time in Bologna and Palermo before going to Toledo in Spain. It was probably in Spain that he learned Arabic, which helped get him invited to the court of Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II. Besides translating texts for Frederick, he was a court astrologer, saying of the work:

Every astrologer is worthy of praise and honor, since by such a doctrine as astrology he probably knows many secrets of God, and things which few know.

This was not likely to endear him to the Roman Catholic Church.

Although he was known in his lifetime as a brilliant Aristotelian scholar, and Fibonacci's Liber Abaci was dedicated to him, his books on alchemy and astrology and the occult sciences earned him a reputation for magic. A Bronze Age circle of stones in northwest England called "Long Meg and Her Daughters" was supposedly a coven of witches turned to stone by Scot. Other stories have him hosting feasts served by invisible spirits. Boccaccio refers to him in the Decameron as a magician. It is also told (long after the fact) that he predicted he would die from a small stone falling on his head from a great height. He always wore an iron cap to prevent it, but he removed the cap when entering a church one day (more not to stand out than for reverence of God, we are told), and a small stone of the size he predicted fell on his head. He picked up the stone, recognized that his prophecy was coming true, put his affairs in order, and died of the head wound shortly after! His reputation (helped by the dearth of facts) has made him a prime subject for fiction right up to the present day.

*From a fresco painted between 1366 and 1388 by Andrea Bonaiuti in the Cappellone degli Spagnoli of Santa Maria Novella in Florence. St. Dominic preaches to the crowd.

Gravity

Climbing Lucifer in Dante's Inferno

A long time ago (it seems) I touched on gravity and said "there was no working theory of gravity yet; just a feeling that substances could be heavier or lighter." Theories of gravity did not need Newton to become useful to understanding the world.

Still, if the inhabitants of this globe knew it was a globe, they had to come to terms with how things stayed on it. John Mandeville wrote a book of travels in the 14th century in which he addresses this issue:

from what part of the earth that men dwell, either above or beneath, it seemeth always to them that dwell that they go more right than any other folk. And right as it seemeth to us that they be under us, right so it seemeth to them that we be under them. [Mandeville, Voyage and Travels, chapter xx]

The Middle Ages understood that objects inclined toward the earth itself, wherever they were upon its spherical surface. In fact, gravity was sometimes described as "kindly inclining."

Dante (1265-1321) in his Inferno has his traveler and guide (Virgil) descend through the levels of Hell—not a metaphorical journey, but descending deeper and deeper below the surface of the Earth—finally reaching the gigantic body of Lucifer embedded in the ice. They start climbing down his body when, at his groin region (the bottom-most part of the world), down becomes up, and they have to reverse their orientation. They are now climbing up to his feet.

Was Dante just speaking metaphorically? Did he understand gravity as it operates at the center of the Earth?

Maybe he did. Vincent of Beauvais (c.1190 - 1264) wrote an encyclopedia that was very popular in the Middle Ages. It is not unexpected that Dante would have been very familiar with it. Vincent was well aware of the spheroid nature of the Earth, and that objects fell directly to Earth no matter where they were on the surface. In his Speculum Naturale ["Mirror of Nature"], he explains as much of the world as he can in 3,718 chapters spread across 32 books. In Book vi, he tells the curious what would happen to a stone dropped into a hole that goes straight through the globe to the other side. He says that it would not fight gravity and rise to the other side, but would stay at the center.

The acceptance of a terrestrial globe forced scholars and philosophers to re-think the action of falling bodies and their relationship to the Earth. Common sense led them to arrive at the proper effects of gravity, even if they did not have the science or mathematics to understand the cause of gravity.

Christmas Eve(nts)

The week, as you can imagine, is very hectic around the world for many people, and I am no exception. In  lieu of a regular post, here is a collection of links for events that took place on 24 December:

563 - Hagia Sophia is re-dedicated after being destroyed by an earthquake.

1046 - Pope Clement II is elected.

1167 - John "Lackland" is born to King Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine; he would later sign the Magna Carta.

1294 - Pope Boniface VIII is elected. He would become an enemy of Dante, who would place Boniface in the 8th circle of Hell.

Church & State, Part 1 of 3

Augustine of Hippo (354-430) had very strong feelings about the difference between spiritual and temporal authority and structures. In his City of God he makes it clear that earthly governing structures, i.e. the State, were spiritual Babylons, equivalent to fallen and sinful institutions. The Church was the true and proper guide for mankind through this world. Had Adam and Even not sinned in Eden, mankind would have been able to live in harmony with itself and the world, and temporal structures would not be necessary. After all, the State seemed to exist in order to regulate behavior, particularly behavior that was detrimental to others. In an un-Fallen world, this would be unnecessary.

Augustine was living in a Roman Empire that was Christian-friendly, but still remembered the persecutions. His attitude on the State was likely based on his knowledge of the persecutions and of historical pagan nations, and was therefore more harsh, seeing the State as the direct opposite of the Church.

Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274, also mentioned here) took a slightly different view. He was surrounded by States with Christian rulers and was willing to consider the State without condemning it. Like Aristotle, Aquinas saw society as a natural institution for mankind, and therefore something ordained by God. The State was another form of society, and therefore was a part of man's natural inclination and therefore also was ordained by God.

Church and State were both important institutions, but not separate in their goals. For Aquinas, the Church existed to help mankind attain its spiritual goal. It did not follow, however, that the State existed to help mankind attain a temporal goal. Mankind has only one goal: a spiritual one. Therefore, the State exists to support man's spiritual goals as well. Any conflict between the actions of the two should be resolved in favor of the Church, whose primary goal is spiritual.

Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) and Aquinas were in agreement about one point: both Church and State were important, just in different ways, and neither should try to usurp the other's authority. Dante, however, observed first-hand the serious clashes between the papacy and empire, and tended to come down on the side of empire. If the State was a society ordained by God, then Dante saw the emperor as ruling by divine grace, and therefore no mortal should be considered to be superior to the emperor. Dante also held up the empire as the only instrument able to achieve peace.

What did the papacy think of this line of reasoning? We will see that tomorrow.

One Faith

When Pope Boniface VIII wasn't excommunicating people for treating corpses in unapproved ways, he was very busy doing lots of other things.

Maybe we should start at the beginning.

Benedetto Gaetani was born about 1235 in Italy. A younger son of minor nobility, his religious career began when he was sent to a monastery. He became secretary to a cardinal in 1264, which put him close to Vatican politics. He had a busy career in international affairs, accompanying a cardinal to England to put down a rebellion, going to France to supervise a collection, and acting as a diplomat to France, Naples, Sicily and Aragon.

In December of 1294, stating "the desire for humility, for a purer life, for a stainless conscience, the deficiencies of his own physical strength, his ignorance, the perverseness of the people, his longing for the tranquility of his former life," Pope Celestine V resigned. A contemporary said that it was Benedetto Gaetani who convinced him to resign; other reports say that he was only one of several, or that Gaetani was the person who convinced Celestine that a papal resignation was legal. Whatever the case, Benedetto Gaetani was elected pope by the conclave on Christmas Eve.

That's when the fun began. His first act was to imprison his predecessor. A few years later he formalized the Roman Jubilee, a tradition that established a year of pilgrimages to Rome for pardoning of sins. This influx of tourists seeking forgiveness turned into a big money-maker for the pontiff. This may be why Dante put Boniface into the 8th circle of Hell in Inferno, with the simonists. He enriched the lives of his relatives, and used his position to war against the Colonna family (rivals of the Gaetani); he even offered a pardon for one's sins equivalent to that granted when one goes on Crusade if you would join in his war against the Colonna. He was the epitome of a power-mad ruler.

Then, on 18 November 1302, Boniface made his boldest move: the papal bull called Unam Sanctam (One Faith). The document establishes that salvation is only available through the Church, and that the Church wields "two swords" that represent both spiritual and temporal power. Among other pronouncements, it concludes with

Furthermore, we declare, we proclaim, we define that it is absolutely necessary for salvation that every human creature be subject to the Roman Pontiff.

...and that has been the source of endless conflict between the papacy and others ever since.

Frederick II

Frederick II of Sicily (1194-1250) has crossed the path of this blog more than once, but has not yet been featured.

He declared the Edict of Salerno, separating physicians and pharmacists.
Frederick was interested in math and science, and was friendly to and supportive of Fibonacci.
He promised to go on the Fifth Crusade, mentioned here, but never participated; he was blamed for its failures by Christians all over Europe as well as Pope Honorius III (who had been Frederick's tutor while young).

From the time he was declared Holy Roman Emperor in 1220 until his death 30 years later, he was a tremendous influence on science and culture, but a difficulty for popes and religion—odd, considering he willingly took the title Holy Roman Emperor. Although Pope Innocent III was his guardian growing up, Frederick often said blasphemous things, supposedly mocking Moses and Jesus and Mohammed for being frauds. His public attitude toward religion was unusual for his era and position, and Dante's Inferno places him in the circle of hell reserved for heretics.

He was, however, also possessed of a rationalism that was unusual for his era. He hired Arabs/Muslims as soldiers and personal guards; he hired Jewish scholars to be at his court. He pointed out the unfairness of trials by ordeal, because the stronger man would always win regardless of guilt or innocence. He hired the mathematician and scholar Michael Scot (of whom Honorius III thought very highly) to, among other things, make new translations of Aristotle and Arabian works into Latin. Michael Scot's translation of Aristotle was done with the help of Hermannus Alemannus ("Herman the German").

He had three wives and several mistresses. His third wife was Isabella of England, the daughter of King John Lackland. It was a political marriage, taken on because marrying an English princess would make his political opponents lose support from England. Once Isabella arrived in Sicily, she was sent to live in seclusion in Padua with only two of her English retainers.

Although Frederick had a profound and positive impact on laws and science, his personal manner made him many enemies and detractors. The Hohenstaufen lineage, which had included Frederick Barbarossa, lost power after Frederick II's death.

The Birth of Tick-Tock

A city without bells is like a blind man without a stick. —Rabelais

Rabelais (c.1494-1553) was a little late for this blog, but his statement in Chapter XIX of Gargantua indicates a reliance on time-keeping that the modern world can understand. It was not always thus, however, for the Middle Ages.

I discussed yesterday how early concepts of time by their nature might have made it difficult to think of time as something measurable. I mentioned a mid-1200s definition of time that came from Franco of Cologne, the mathematically-minded music theorist who created what is the basis for modern musical notation. Franco's most diligent biographer places him as chapelmaster at Notre Dame in Paris.

Johannes de Sacrobosco (c.1195-c.1256) taught at the University of Paris, probably contemporaneously with Franco. Johannes was an astronomer who, among other things, declared that there was a flaw in the Julian calendar: it was 10 days off. (That error wouldn't be corrected until long after.) He also wrote of an attempt he knew to construct a wheel that would make a complete rotation in one day. Robertus Anglicus wrote a commentary in 1270 on Sacrobosco's treatise, mentioning the device and further spreading the idea. In that same decade, a clock is described by someone writing in Spain that runs by the flow of mercury from chamber to chamber in a wheel.

It only took a generation for this idea to catch on. By 1300, clocks were becoming widely known (if not widely owned), but the early ones only measured hours—they rang bells, but had no faces with markings around a dial, no minutes or seconds were counted, that we know of.

The device described by Sacrobosco and Anglicus used a weight hanging from a line around a wheel or cylinder. The Middle Ages understood wheels, gears, levers and pulleys, but how could these be used to guarantee a steady revolution of the weighted wheel? Sometime around 1300, or not long after, some early mechanical "Eureka" moment took place. Someone designed what we call the "escapement," which rocked back and forth on a toothed gear, allowing the wheel to turn at a steady, measurable, predictable speed. It also had a side-effect: a steady sound that we have been listening to ever since.

The escapement.

Within a generation after 1300, Dante Alighieri (c.1265-1321) considers his audience familiar enough with clocks and their mechanism to use gears as a metaphor:

As the wheels within a clockwork synchronize
       So that the innermost, when looked at closely
       Seems to be standing, while the outermost flies. (Canto xxiv, Paradiso)

Humans could now mark time in sequences of ticks and tocks. Minutes and seconds could be distinguished. Hours could be regulated. Six hours before noon became the same, whether it were dark in winter or already light in summer. (That's right: the 12 hours from sunrise until sunset used to be extended or shortened depending upon the season.) This was a change from the canonical hours described by the Rule of St. Benedict, for whom prayers at Matins were supposed to end as the sun rose, and therefore had to be started at different times depending on the season. In 1370, Charles V of France installed a clock in his palace, and decreed that all clocks in Paris be set according to his. Punctuality, crucial feature of our modern world, was born.