Chaucer & the Viscontis

On the 28th of May in 1378, a small expedition of 16 men set out from the City of London. In the financial records that manage their pay, only two of the men are named. One was the chamber knight Sir Edward de Berkley; the other was Geoffrey Chaucer. Berkeley was paid 20 shillings per day and had nine attendants; Chaucer, only an esquire, had five attendants and made 13 shillings and four pence per day. The royal accounts list their purpose as meeting with Bernabò the Lord of Milan and with John Hawkwood.

Why was Chaucer chosen for an embassy of some sort to Italy? He had been there already in 1368, when he was in the household of Prince Lionel, younger son of King Edward III, and was arranging the marriage of Lionel to Violante Visconti, daughter of Galeazzo II Visconti.

Royal marriages between countries were always valuable for alliances, and England was glad to have an ally on the Italian peninsula in its on-again/off-again hostilities with France. Chaucer would already be familiar with the roads traveled, and probably the language. He might also have asked to go, having likely had a taste for himself of the magnificent library started by Galeazzo.

Bernabò's reputation for his willingness to fight anyone was well-known, and so allying with him was a wise move. (Although his endless antagonism of Pope Urban VI was not to England's liking.)

As for John Hawkwood, an English mercenary, he was in command of part of Milan's forces. Not only did he have an excellent reputation as a fighter and leader, commanding high prices for his service, but he had the year before married Donnina Visconti, daughter of Bernabò. That Donnina was illegitimate did not make the familial bond between Hawkwood and his father-in-law any less firm.

We do not know the exact purpose of the trip, although securing potential military support on the continent seems likely. It lasted 115 days, with Chaucer and Berkeley returning to London on September 19th. London to Milan is about 800 miles, and the routes were well established by then, but it would still be over a month of travel one way. Do you suppose they told stories to each other to pass the time?

I have written about Hawkwood before but, as with anyone, there is a lot more to his story that I'd like to tell you. So I will.

Bernabò Visconti

Poor Bernabò Visconti. Lord of Milan, not well-liked by his people, deposed and imprisoned (then likely poisoned) by his nephew. Of course, he did hassle his nephew's father, Bernabò's brother Galeazzo, and he did kill his other brother, Matteo, so in some ways he deserved the troubles.

Born in 1323CE, he became a Lord of Milan in 1354, sharing the title and responsibility with his brothers: Bernabò ruled over Bergamo, Brescia, Cremona, and Crema; Matteo had Lodi, Piacenza, Parma, and Bologna; Galeazzo took the western regions. Matteo died at a dinner, supposedly poisoned by his brothers.

Bernabò was at war almost constantly with Pope Urban V, possibly over a papal bull Urban produced. In 1356 he offended the emperor, and had to fight off an attack on Milan. He was declared a heretic by Pope Innocent VI, and excommunicated in 1363. In 1373, he was excommunicated again, but the papal delegates sent to deliver the official document were arrested and forced to eat the parchment, the leaden seal, and the silk cord rolled around it. This did not help his case with the pope.

The citizens of Milan did not see that his actions were for their benefit, or in any way reflected well on Milan. A statue of him on horseback was commissioned—in itself not unusual for a ruler—but its placement near the main altar of San Giovanni Church was seen as inappropriate. He became such a well-known symbol of corruption that he made it into Chaucer's Monk's Tale in the list of tyrants.

His brother Galeazzo's son, Gian Galeazzo, handled the problem of Bernabò by deposing him, imprisoning him, and likely poisoning him shortly after. The sculptor of the equestrian statue, Bonino da Campione, made a few alterations to the statue so that it would be suited for its new purpose: as Bernabò's funerary monument. It now lives on in Milan's Castello Sforzesco.

I cannot leave this family yet, because there is another link between the Viscontis and Chaucer, which I will go into next time.

The Dream of a United Italy

Italy was not unified as a country until 1861; before then, the separate regions/cities saw themselves as unique sovereign entities. This led frequently to rivalries that could become wars, but many often looked back to the glory of Rome, when such wars did not happen.

Gian Galeazzo Visconti (16 October 1351 - 3 September 1402) was the first Duke of Milan. He himself made Milan into a duchy in 1395, after being granted the title of duke from Wenceslaus IV of Bohemia (after paying Wenceslaus 100,000 florins).

He was lord of Milan earlier, a position he gained by overthrowing his uncle Bernabò. He did this by faking a religious conversion, inviting Bernabò to a celebratory ceremony, and capturing him; Bernabò was imprisoned, but not for long: his death came in short order, supposedly from poison.

He brought the same ruthless efficiency to conquering Verona, Vicenza, and Padua (he spent 300,000 florins to divert the course of the River Brenta that supplied Padua with water and transportation). He wanted to unite all of northern Italy, re-creating the old Lombardy. Of course, he wanted to unite it under himself, which did not sit well with some city-states such as Bologna and Florence. Still, the hope of a powerful empire on/of Italy inspired poets and politicians. One modern website reports:

Poets talked again of “un solo re,” the King above race and party, who would bring back the Roman peace and turn the cities from their path of fratricidal war; patriots feared the engulfing of those cities within the belly of the Viper.

The hopes and fears were centred upon one man, Giangaleazzo Visconti, Count of Virtue and first Duke of Milan, the greatest of a family that had been climbing to the position of supreme power in Lombardy for over a hundred years. It was said that the Duke had taken the Iron Crown from its safe-keeping and was preparing his coronation robes. [link]

Italy might have done worse. Visconti was more than just a power-mad potentate. He built monasteries and continued the work on the cathedral of Milan. At Visconti Castle he expanded the library's scientific papers and illuminated manuscripts. He may have created the "first modern bureaucracy" in that he established a department for the purpose of improving public health.

Health was to be his undoing. Shortly after subjugating Bologna, and with Florence failing against his attack because of problems with famine and disease, he fell ill to a fever. He died on 3 September 1402. An extraordinary statesman who might have, given another several years, made the peninsula a force to be reckoned with instead of a series of separate states.

But what about the hapless Bernabò? It's easy to see him as just a stepping stone to power for Gian Galeazzo, but there must be more to his story...and there is, including a link to my favorite English poet. This next one may have lots of links to previous posts.

Kyiv

Kyiv is one of the oldest cities in eastern Europe. Humans lived there since the Stone Age, and from the Iron Age there is evidence of animal husbandry and trading with inhabitants of the Black Sea coast. Roman coins found dating to the 2nd through 4th centuries CE are evidence of wider trading.

The Primary Chronicle, that tells the history of the Kievan Rus peoples from about 850 to 1110, tells the story of four siblings: the brothers Kyiv, Shchek, Khoryv, and their sister Lybid. They founded the city around 485, and named it after Kyi. The family was part of the Khazar Empire, a semi-nomadic Turkic group that was covered parts of Russia, Ukraine including Crimea, and Kazakhstan. The Primary Chronicle has residents of Kyiv saying "there were three brothers Kyi, Shchek, and Khoriv. They founded this town and died, and now we are staying and paying taxes to their relatives the Khazars."

Another tale is that Saint Andrew passed through the area and set up a cross to mark where a church would be built. St. Andrew did not leave a lasting mark, though, since in the Middle Ages St. Michael's image became linked with the city.

There is another saint linked to Kyiv, about whom I wrote years ago. You really need to click this link.

Kyiv was on the trade route between Greece and the Varangians to the north, which helped its prosperity. By the year 1000CE its population was about 45,000, rising to about 100,000 by the beginning of the 12th century. Prosperity made it a target, however. It was attacked in 968 by the nomadic Pechenegs. In 1169, Grand Prince Andrey Bogolyubsky sacked the city and destroyed the royal palace. In 1203 Prince Rurik Rostislavich burned the city. In 1240, the Mongol invasion again destroyed the city. In the 1320s, Grand Duke Gediminas and a Lithuanian army conquered Kyiv. In 1482, Crimean Tatars sacked and burned it again. And then, of course, World Wars I and II took their toll. Through all this, it has survived.

Slava Ukraini.

Tomorrow, as promised, back to Gian Galeazzo Visconti.

The Ostrogoths, Finally

To be fair, I have mentioned one Ostrogoth before: King Theodoric was talked about here and here. The larger culture of the Goths has been mentioned many times in this blog, but this particular group has been wanting attention. The "Ostrogoths" part of the name comes from Germanic auster meaning "eastern." Before descending on Italy, these "Eastern Goths" built an empire in the 3rd century stretching east to what is now Belarus and Ukraine; "many Ostrogothic graves have been excavated south and southeast of Kiev" [Britannica] It is believed that the difference between Ostrogoths and Visigoths is based on geography, with "Visi-" being tacked on by the Roman scholar/statesman Cassiodorus (mentioned in the first Theodoric link above).

Little is known of the Ostrogoths and Visigoths except through records from the cultures with whom they came in contact, mostly Roman. They left us no literature of their own, although we know they had their own spoken language: a Goth Christian Bishop named Wulfila (or a team working under him) designed a Goth alphabet based on Greek and used it to translate the Bible; I showed their alphabet here. A few additional Goth religious fragments exist. Other Gothic documents such as statements from Theodoric are in Latin.

Isidore of Seville wrote a history of the Goths, in which he tells us that, when they asked the Roman Emperor Valens to send them teachers to instruct them in the Christian faith, Valens (because he had strayed from the truth) sent them heretical priests who instructed them in the Arian heresy. Salvian of Marseilles, a 5th century writer in Gaul concerned with the decline of the Roman Empire, writes in his De gubernatione Dei ("On the government of God") about the vices of the Romans versus the virtues of the "barbarian" Goths. The Arian Goths are praised for the chastity, tolerance toward Catholics.

Sometimes a charismatic ruler is necessary to hold a nation together. When Attila the Hun died and his empire began to fall apart, the Ostrogoths grew in strength, especially under Theodoric, and expanded, eventually into Italy. But after Theodoric died in 526, the Ostrogoth control of Italy started to disintegrate, and the Emperor Justinian in the Eastern Empire saw his chance. He declared war on the Ostrogoths in 535. In the following two decades, much of Italy was damaged in the battles between the two armies. What is certain is that, after 554CE, no more Gothic texts are produced in Italy; the Ostrogoths seem to have lost their national identity.

Although I said I would touch on the Ostrogoths only before taking on the first Duke of Milan, I can hardly pass up the opportunity at this point in modern history to seize the opportunity given me by the Ostrogothic link to Kyiv.

Mediolanum

In 286CE, the Emperor Diocletian decided that the capital of the Western Roman Empire should be Mediolanum (Milan) instead of Rome, leaving Maximian to rule there while he ruled the Eastern half from Nicomedia. The origin of the name "Mediolanum" is in doubt: a case could be made that it is Latin for the "middle of a plain," but it originally was a Celtic settlement, and so it could come from a Celtic root llan meaning "church."

Whatever the case, the area was rich for farming, vineyards, and raising wool-bearing sheep, so it could support a capital's population and preference for opulence. That environment—as well as its position in the north, just below the Alps—meant it was the best point of attack for invading groups from Europe. Also, Maximian made it a more desirable prize by expanding: monuments, hot baths, palaces and official buildings; he surrounded it with a 4.5 kilometer stone wall.

The Visigoths attacked in 402, prompting then-Emperor Honorius to move official functions south to Ravenna. Half a century later, Attila the Hun overran the city. In 539 the Ostrogoths destroyed Milan during their war with the Empire. A mere 30 years later, the Lombards descended from the origins near the Elbe in Germany, conquered Milan, and settled in, giving their name to the Lombardy region. They surrendered the city to Charlemagne in 774.

There were more ups and downs for Milan in the turbulent centuries that followed, but the 14th century saw relative peace. Near the end of that century, Milan became a dukedom, a center of fashion, and one of the largest cities in Europe. Before I get to the first Duke of Milan, Gian Galeazzo Visconti, and his extraordinary dream of a united Italy, however, I want to talk about a group that was mentioned in the above paragraph for the very first time: the Ostrogoths.

The Massacre of Thessalonica

The following tale, like much of early history, cannot be confirmed, but it has come down to us as an actual event with actual consequences. During the reign of the Emperor Theodosius (reigned 19 January 379 - 17 January 395), a charioteer tried to rape...someone. It may have been a servant of Butheric, a Roman general. Butheric arrested the charioteer. The general populace demanded the charioteer's release, but Butheric was having none of it. They rose up and lynched Butheric.

Theodosius decided a lesson had to be learned. When a large number was gathered in the hippodrome in Thessalonica (southeastern part of Illyricum, or northeast part of Greece, if you prefer), Theodosius (or a local officer) set his troops upon them, killing 7000. (See the 16th century engraving of the massacre above.)

Whomever ordered the massacre, Theodosius accepted responsibility for it. Ambrose, the bishop of Milan, was appalled and outraged. He wrote to Theodosius to tell him he would not be able to receive the Eucharist until he repented. Theodosius accepted this, but only after eight months of being stubborn. That is the inspiration for the painting by Rubens of Ambrose denying Theodosius entrance to the church in Milan, displayed in the previous post. (The story was sufficiently popular that van Dyke later painted the same moment in an almost identical manner to Rubens' design.)

There was an earlier clash between Ambrose and Theodosius worth noting. Theodosius' court was not in Rome, but in Milan in northern Italy (hence the Edict of Milan, not Rome). In the 380s, according to one historian [Peter Brown], the need of this northern court for food motivated landowners to oppress and misuse their tenants to produce it. Ambrose opposed what he saw as abuse of the lower classes, speaking out about the need of the rich to care for the poor as was appropriate in a Christian nation. Christianity would not, however, affect politics as much as the Edict of Thessalonica would suggest. According to Brown, "modern scholars link the decline of the Roman empire to the avarice of the rich of this era."

But let's turn from people and politics for a bit and consider a place. A (brief) history of Milan is next.

Edict of Thessalonica

Although Constantine had called the 1st Council of Nicaea to make sure there was an established orthodoxy for Christianity throughout the empire, the resulting Nicene Creed did not accurately express the beliefs of all Christians. There were still many Arians who viewed Christ's nature as subordinate to God the Father. Constantine's son in the east, Constantius, was an Arian, and even exiled some Nicene bishops. His successor, Julian, rejected Christianity personally, and supported all religions. Julian's successor, the Christian Jovian, reigned for eight months before being succeeded by another Arian, Valens. By 379, when Valens was succeeded by Theodosius I, Arianism was the dominant form of Christianity in the Eastern Empire, while Nicene Christianity was dominant in the West.

Like Constantine, Theodosius wanted to establish a single Christian orthodoxy for the empire, and he issued an edict:

It is our desire that all the various nations which are subject to our Clemency and Moderation, should continue to profess that religion which was delivered to the Romans by the divine Apostle Peter, as it has been preserved by faithful tradition, and which is now professed by the Pontiff Damasus and by Peter, Bishop of Alexandria, a man of apostolic holiness. According to the apostolic teaching and the doctrine of the Gospel, let us believe in the one deity of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, in equal majesty and in a holy Trinity. We order the followers of this law to embrace the name of Catholic Christians; but as for the others, since, in our judgment they are foolish madmen, we decree that they shall be branded with the ignominious name of heretics, and shall not presume to give to their conventicles the name of churches. They will suffer in the first place the chastisement of the divine condemnation and in the second the punishment of our authority which in accordance with the will of Heaven we shall decide to inflict.

Note the term "Catholic Christians." "Catholic" means "universal," and was an attempt to stress that everyone should have the exact same beliefs. (Of course, threatening heretics was also supposed to be a powerful motivator.) This edict was released on 27 February 380, and was followed in 381 by the first Council of Constantinople, which slightly revised the Nicene Creed.

Of course, enforcement of the edict was going to be necessary. In 381 there was an edict that forbade heretics from settling in cities, followed in 392 and 394 by laws forbidding heretics from living in Constantinople. In 383, Theodosius ordered all non-Nicene sects to submit written creeds to him for review. He declared them all invalid (Arian, Macedonian, Anomoean), except for the Novatian Creed (their big difference was that they claimed no lapsed Christian who had performed a pagan sacrifice should be allowed back into Christianity; what distinguished them from the Donatists was that Novatians did not submit to Rome, whereas Donatists followed Rome, but felt that some of their fellow clergy were traditors. Also, Donatists were willing to welcome traditors back into the fold with a baptism, whereas Novatians did not believe in second chances. Novatians were declared schismatics, and eventually also labeled heretics and persecuted. They survived until the 8th century.

The illustration on the pages is a painting by Rubens of Theodosius being refused entry to the church in Milan by St. Ambrose. Why this was the case, why Milan was important, and what this has to do with the decline of the Empire, will be next.

Edict of Milan

The winds of change blew quickly for christians in the Mediterranean in the early 4th century. Emperor Diocletian had persecuted christians pretty successfully—those who gave in and turned over their copies of Scripture were labeled traditors, and opposition to them became the Donates movement—until he retired in 305CE. After 305, the emperor was Gaius Galerius Valerius Maximianus, who continued the Diocletian persecutions until 30 April 311, when he issued the Edict of Toleration, which declared Christianity as a religio licita ("approved religion")

I should mention that, at this time, the Roman Empire was split in half, with an Eastern and a Western Empire. Though they had distinct cultural differences, they endeavored to stay united as an empire. Therefore, it came as no surprise when Licinius, ruler of the Eastern Empire, came to Milan to Constantia, the younger half-sister of Emperor Constantine of the Western Empire. This happy occasion, in February of 313, was ideal for the two imperial personages to spend time together and discuss business along with pleasure.

Constantine had some business to discuss. Several months earlier, on 28 October 312, he had defeated a rival for the throne at the Battle of Milvian Bridge. According to one chronicler, Eusebius of Caesarea (mentioned most recently here), Constantine saw a cross of light above the sun and the Greek words Ἐν Τούτῳ Νίκα ("in this (sign), conquer"; usually given as the Latin in hoc signo vinces, "in this sign you will conquer."

They painted the chi rho, the first two letters of Christ's name, on their shields. Constantine's forces won, and he declared he would convert to Christianity. Full disclosure: he did not convert until he was on his deathbed, according to Eusebius, who cannot always be trusted; he died 22 May 337.

But back to the Edict: Constantine and Licinius issued a joint statement that according to some reports (an actual document does not exist) says:

When we, Constantine Augustus and Licinius Augustus, met so happily at Milan, and considered together all that concerned the interest and security of the State, we decided ... to grant to Christians and to everybody the free power to follow the religion of their choice, in order that all that is divine in the heavens may be favorable and propitious towards all who are placed under our authority.

Emperor Constantine is often described as having made Christianity the official religion of the Roman Empire. This document does not do that. He did try to make sure Christianity was uniform and understandable, so in 325CE he called the first Council of Nicaea which established the Nicene Creed as opposed to Arianism. Also, his mother did all she could to promote Christianity. It would be another 43 years before Christianity pushed out the Roman religion, but that's a story for tomorrow.

The Council of Arles

No religious group has ever stayed uniform in its beliefs and practices, and in the first few centuries of the Common Era, the burgeoning Christian religion was no different. Every couple of generations there were synods (Greek sunodos; "meeting"), gathering to determine and approve proper practices and policies.

The first Council of Arles was convened in 314CE. I mentioned this recently regarding Donatism, but there was more to discuss than that.

Besides declaring Donatism heresy and excommunicating Donatus Magnus, they determined that those who truly were traditors by turning their holy books over to persecutors would be deposed, but their official acts would not be declared invalid.

The Council also determined:

The date of Easter should be held on the same day throughout the Christian world, not on a day set by each individual church.

Ordaining a priest required the approval and cooperation of at least three bishops. Clergy must live in the parish they were supposed to manage.

Actors, and those who participated in gladiatorial combat and races in the arena, should be excommunicated

This was all started right after the Edict of Milan, when everything changed for the early Christian Church. We'll get to that tomorrow.

Donatism Aftermath

Although Donatus Magnus' appeal at the Council of Arles failed, and he was exiled to Gaul until his death, Donatism did not die out. After all, it had become the dominant church in parts of North Africa. Rome and a succession of popes would have liked to bring the Donarists of North Africa back "into the fold," but there was opposition.

Donatism also had its own internal problems, some of which came from the Circumcellions. The name was derived from Latin circum cellas euntes ("those going around larders") The larder in this case referred to a cool place for food storage, from which we get the word "cellar." The meaning behind the label was because the Circumcellions lived off of food from others whom they tried to convert to their cause. The called themselves Agonistici ("fighters" [for Christ]). They first appeared in 317 from the lower strata of society, fiercely anti-Roman and desiring social reform.

A bishop in Numidia, Optatus, remembered for his writing against Donatism, said that in 340 they started attacking officials such as creditors and landlords. Those killed during the violence were considered martyrs. In fact, martyrdom became the primary Christian virtue, as opposed to chastity, charity, humility, etc. In fact, they would sometimes attack Roman legionnaires with wooden clubs, knowing they were outmatched, so that they could be martyred. 

Augustine of Hippo (pictured here) spoke out against them, writing:

And those men also belong to this same heresy [i.e.of the Donatists] in Africa who are called circumcelliones, a rough and primitive type of men most notorious for their outrages—not just for the savage crimes that they perpetrate against others, but also because in their insane fury they do not spare even themselves. For they are accustomed to killing themselves by various kinds of deaths, but especially by throwing themselves off heights, by drowning, or byself-immolation. And they seduce others whom they can, of either sex, to join them in this same mad behavior.

They would also disrupt courts of law to produce the same outcome. The punishment for contempt of court was, in fact, execution. The Donatists did not necessarily want the alliance mentioned by Augustine.

Right up through the 15th and 16th centuries, attempts at church reform that declared priests in the wrong were slammed with accusation of the heresy of Donatism, including John Wycliffe and Jan Hus.

I want to get back to the Council of Arles in which Donatism was rejected a second time. It was the first of many at Arles, and dealt with much more than Donatism. Stay tuned.

The Donatists

In Northern Africa, specifically the area we now call Algeria, a Berber Christian bishop created one of the first schisms in the Catholic Church. I'm talking about Donatus Magnus, who died around 355CE.

Christians in the Roman Empire were persecuted prior to Emperor Constantine (274-337CE). Many church leaders turned over their scriptures and paraphernalia instead of defying imperial writ. These traitors to the faith were labeled traditors (literally "surrenderers").

Donatus was adamant that services or sacraments performed by traditors were invalid, and that they needed to be re-baptized into the faith if they intended to act like clergy again. If they were not re-baptized, then those they baptized would not truly be members of the Church.

(A lot of names coming at you:) The real trouble began when Bishop Felix of Aptungi consecrated Caecilian as Bishop of Carthage and Primate of North Africa. There was a rumor that Felix had become a traditor, though the people of Carthage knew he was not. The Primate of Numidia, however, held a council that declared Caecilian to be invalid. That council then consecrated Majorinus as bishop. Majorinus died soon after, and Donatus Magnus in 313 was consecrated Bishop of Carthage and Primate of North Africa.

Now there were two Bishops of Carthage and Primates of North Africa. Each of them went on to consecrate bishops, ordain priests, baptize people and deliver sacraments, and soon there were cities with two bishops, one under Caecilian, and one in communion with Donatus. The Donatist group appealed to the Emperor, who wanted nothing to do with it and passed it to Pope Miltiades, who was of Berber descent and therefore linked to the people of North Africa.

Miltiades summoned each to a council in October 313. The Donatist arguments against Caecilian were brushed off, so the Donatists stormed out. Miltiades then affirmed Caecilian. The Donatists appealed to the Emperor again, but the Council of Arles in 314 again ruled against them. This started a trend of Donatist-leaning clergy to declare anyone they did not like a traditor and therefore invalid as priests.

Donatus continued to preach his cause and fight against Rome, with no major success, but it didn't die out easily. Tomorrow we'll look at how it survived for more than a millennium.

The Berbers

They call themselves the Amazigh, but history knows them as Berbers, who inhabited northwestern Africa since at least 10,000BCE. The etymological origin of "Berber" is problematic. The obvious guess is that it comes from the Greek βάρβαρος ("barbaros"), used by the Greeks to refer to any non-Greek speaking people. One scholar thinks instead it's from the Bavares, a tribe known to exist in Mauretania from the 3rd to 5th century CE.

The historian Ibn Khaldun shared two popular theories of the origin of the Berbers. One was that they were descended from Canaan, son of Ham, son of Noah. Either that or they were descended from another son of Ham, Keloudjm.

As Muslims moved westward across northern Africa, Arabization had a profound effect on Berber culture: tribal practices were replaced with Islam. During the 12th century, Christian and Jewish communities became marginalized, although Jews continued to exist as dhimmis, protected peoples. 

Prior to the influence of Islam, however, most Berber groups were either Christian or Jewish or Animist. One of the most famous of early Christian fathers, St. Augustine of Hippo, was from a Berber family. On the other hand, so possibly was Arius, an early heretic. Another Berber who created an approach to Christianity that did not suit the mainstream was the heretic Donatus Magnus. Let's dabble in heresy next time.

The Laffer Curve

That is an odd headline (and topic) for a blog on the Middle Ages, but let's push on and see where we wind up. The Laffer Curve (named for Arthur Laffer, illustrates a "a supposed relationship between economic activity and the rate of taxation which suggests that there is an optimum tax rate which maximizes tax revenue." [New Oxford American Dictionary] Arthur Laffer acknowledged that Ibn Khaldun essentially defined what we now call the Laffer Curve in his best-known book, Al-Muqaddimah ("Introduction").

We know quite a bit about Ibn Khaldun (27 May 1332 - 17 March 1406) because he wrote an autobiography. Born to a wealthy Arabic family, he was able to trace his ancestry back to the time of Mohammed. He had a classical Islamic education, memorized the Koran, and studied law and Arab linguistics. He also learned mathematics, logic, and philosophy. While in his teenage years, both parents died in the first big wave of the Black Death.

He started his political career at the age of 20 in Tunisia, producing fine calligraphy on official documents, but shortly after moved to Fez as a writer of royal proclamations. There he fell out with the sultan while scheming to advance himself and went to jail for 22 months. After getting out, he was not getting the attention he felt he deserved in terms of jobs, and decided to move to Granada. The Sultan of Granada gave him a diplomatic mission to King Pedro the Cruel of Castile, which Ibn Khaldun carried out successfully. Eventually getting involved in too much political intrigue, he left for Ifriqiya, where the current sultan had been Khaldun's cellmate! The sultan made Khaldun his prime minister. In 1366, that sultan died, and Khaldun allied himself with a different sultan, who was defeated a few years later, upon which Khaldun decided a monastic life was best. He continued to get involved in politics, however, always finding ways to anger someone.

Regarding his works, Al-Muqaddimah was the first part of a seven-volume work that included a world history up to his time. The socio-economic-geographical approach to describing empires is considered by 19th and 20th century scholars as the first ever writing in the social sciences. Khaldun explains that there is a group solidarity that enables small groups to grow in power, and yet become their own worst enemy and eventually fall from power and be overcome by another tightly knit group. He had similarly ahead-of-his-time ideas about economics.

I will leave the discussion of Ibn Khaldun (for now at least) with one more thing: his apt description of government as "an institution which prevents injustice other than such as it commits itself."

A large part of his historical work involves the Berbers, and I will talk about them in the next post.

Ifriqiya

Along the Mediterranean coast of Northern Africa was an area controlled by the Roman Empire called the Africa Proconsularis. When the Empire broke up, the Byzantine Eastern Empire still controlled the territory until the Muslim Empire started its westward move, ultimately reaching the Iberian Peninsula.

To be clear, Islam existed in the area already, but Muslims did not have political control until the Umayyads took over in 703CE. Ifriqiya included modern Tunisia, eastern Algeria, and western Libya (shown here in red).

Control shifted from dynasty to dynasty: from Umayyads to the Aghlabids (who were regents for the Abbasids) to the Fatimids in 909, to their own regents, the Zirids, who slowly grew in power, then to the Almohads and finally the Hafsids. The capital city was Kairouan, or al-Qayrawān, founded in 670 by the Umayyads. It became an intellectual and cultural center for Sunni Islamic scholarship. Charlemagne sent envoys to Kairouan; they returned with reports of the amazing palaces and gardens, not to mention reports of the heavy taxation of the population that paid for the excesses of the ruling class.

Several mosques in Africa are the result of Muslim influence spreading out and southward from Ifriqiya. Swahili absorbs vocabulary from many languages, most recently English, but 16-20% of its vocabulary still is from Arabic, especially administrative terms.

Notable individuals from Ifriqiya include Constantine the African (mentioned in a recent post), and the historian Ibn Khaldun, who would be worth taking a closer look at in the next post.

The Book of Pee

One of the medical texts composed by Isaac Israeli ben Solomon was translated from Arabic to Latin and called De Urinis ("Concerning Urine"). One manuscript copy (Ms. 690) in the University of Utrecht Library shows signs of frequent use, and yet has survived for 800 years with its original binding, showing extreme care being taken by any of its owners.

De Urinis was not one of the books translated at Toledo; the Latin version that was used in the Middle Ages was translated by Constantine the African, a Benedictine monk and physician who spent the first part of his life in Ifriqiya, then brought Isaac's work and others from Tunisia to his retirement at the Benedictine Abbey of Monte Casino. Unfortunately, Constantine often did not include in his translation the name of the original author, leading many to think that he himself wrote the medical texts. It took other references to these works to be able to affix the proper author's name. (The illustration here shows a dog's head added to the margin by a bored copyist.)

There are ten sections to De Urinis, as follows:

1. The science of uroscopy, placing it in context of the four temperaments*, particularly in relation to the blood;
2. The importance of nocturnal urine;
3. Types of urine in relation to pathology;
4. Urine as humor-discharging fluid;
5. Types of urine by colour;
6. The state of the body judging by its colour;
7. Types of urine based on clarity and viscosity;
8. Sediment in relation to pathology;
9. Types of urine in coherence with sediment;
10. Different types of urine and sediments and their meaning.

According to the Utrecht summary of the manuscript:

This text influenced islamic medicine to a great extent (where uroscopy was of great importance) and contributed to the rise of uroscopy as one of the most important branches of medicine in the Middle Ages (Prioreschi 2001). Ms. 690 is a remarkably early witness of this.

If you would like to see the manuscript in digital form, click here.

This is the second post in a row that mentions Ifriqiya, which sounds like "Africa" and should be addressed. I shall do so next.

*Referring to the four humors whose proportions determined a human being's temperament and health: yellow bile, black bile, phlegm, and blood.

Isaac Israeli ben Solomon

Some of the works translated at Toledo by our old friend Gerard of Cremona were the Book of Definitions and the Book of Elements into Latin from Arabic. Written by Isaac Israeli ben Solomon (alias Isaac Israeli the Elder, alias Isaac Judaeus), sometimes known as Isaac the Jew, they and his other works became standard works in medicine at Salerno.

Isaac Israeli ben Solomon was born in Egypt around 832CE. Growing up in Cairo, he became known as a skilled oculist (illustration is from an Arabic manuscript on oculism, showing the parts of the eye). About 904CE he was made court physician to Emir Ziyadat Allah III of Ifriqya (and I really should talk about him and there in the near future). A few years later he traveled to Kairouan, Tunisia and studied under a famous Arab physician, then became the doctor to 'Ubaid Allah al-Mahdi, who founded the Fatimid dynasty. al-Mahdi found Israel charming and witty.

In Kairouan he started writing his treatises, which were considered "more valuable than gems," and giving popular lectures on medicine and other topics in science. All his treatises were written in Arabic. Besides the ones mentioned above, they also include The Book on Fevers, a work on food and remedies called Universal Diet, and more. He also wrote books on philosophy, metaphysics, logic, a commentary on Genesis, and a treatise on the difference between the spirit and the soul. The Latin translations of many of these were quoted by Albertus Magnus, Aquinas, Roger Bacon, Nicholas of Cusa, and others.

Next I want to delve into one of his works specifically. I don't think I've ever indulged in what they call "dad jokes," but let me just say "urine for a treat."

Abul-Abbas

The Royal Frankish Annals cover the era from Charlemagne's grandfather to his son. In it we find that Caliph Harun al-Rashid gave an elephant to Charlemagne. This was the result of Charlemagne sending his emissary, Isaac the Jew (Isaac Judaeus), to open relations with the Abbasid rulers. Harun al-Rashid sent Isaac back with an elephant, named Abul-Abbas.

So how do you get an elephant from Syria to France? With great difficulty. From Baghdad Isaac took Abul-Abbas to Egypt, and then along the north coast of Africa to Tunisia. The going was slow, and Charlemagne received messages from Harun al-Rashid and from Ibrahim ibn al-Aghlab (governor of Africa, whom Isaac would have met in Tunisia) referring to Isaac's mission. Charlemagne ordered a man to Italy, to commission some ships in Genoa to travel to Africa to find Isaac and the elephant and bring them home.

Isaac and Abul-Abbas landed in Genoa in October 801, stayed for the winter, and when the weather turned they crossed the Alps. Isaac reached Charlemagne's court at Aachen on 20 July 802.

Abul-Abbas must have been a lot to maintain, but having the largest land animal anyone had ever seen in your menagerie would have been a great point of pride for Charlemagne. Elephants have long lifespans, and Charlemagne might have had his new pet for a long time, but on an expedition to Denmark in 810, after crossing the Rhine, Abul-Abbas died suddenly while Charlemagne camped at "Lippeham."

We don't know what the records mean by Lippeham, but on the conjecture that it has something to do with the Lippe River, it might be the city of Wesel. We will never know for sure, but there's a story that a colossal bone was found in the Lippe in 1750.

Much of what we know of Isaac the Jew has been revealed in the tale of Abul-Abbas. There was another "Isaac Judaeus," however, in the medieval records: one of the foremost Jewish physicians of his day. Let's take a look at him next time.

(The illustration here is of Abul-Abbas from 12th century Spain; the fresco is 80" high and 53" wide.)

Medieval Zoos

Collections of animals for private amusement or public display have existed for a long time. There is a current trend toward calling them "conservation parks" to move away from the connotations of 20th century zoos that housed animals with no regard to their natural habitats. "Zoo" itself was a shortened form of "zoological garden" or "zoological park" which were common in the 19th century. An early modern zoo, the London Zoo, opened in 1828 as the "Gardens and Menagerie of the Zoological Society of London." References to collections of animals earlier than the 19th century often use the term "menagerie" from the French ménage, "members of a household."

Pre-medieval evidence of menageries abounds in carved stone walls from Egypt and Mesopotamia, where we learn that rulers sent expeditions to collect giraffes, elephants, bears, dolphins, and birds. A Middle Assyrian Emperor had a collection of animals in the 11th century BCE. King Solomon had a menagerie, as did Nebuchadnezzar. Alexander the Great collected different animals from his expeditions and sent them back to Greece. The Romans kept various animals—bears and bulls for example—for entertainment in the Colosseum. (The illustration here is from Villard de Honnecourt.) Cortes destroyed a collection of animals maintained by Montezuma in 1520.

Caliph Harun al-Rashid sent an elephant as a gift to Charlemagne. Charlemagne created three menageries, and they included monkeys, lions, bears, camels, and falcons along with other exotic birds. Henry I of England had lions, leopards, and camels at his Woodstock palace. As early as 1204, "Bad" King John kept a collection of different animals at the Tower of London. The Tower had three leopards added when Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II sent them as a wedding gift to Henry III. The king of Norway sent a "white bear" (could they have subdued and sent a polar bear?) in 1251, and the king of France sent an elephant in 1254.

Clearly the desire to see exotic animals from distant lands (and the prestige of owning them) was of great interest for as long as human beings had the time and resources to collect and maintain them.

About Charlemagne's elephant, though...we've all heard about Hannibal trying to bring elephants over the alps to attack Rome. Bringing elephants to Europe predated Charlemagne by a millennium. What did it take to give an elephant to Charlemagne, and what happened to it? His name was Abul-Abbas, and I'll tell you about him next time.

Villard de Honnecourt's Animals

We're talking about Villard de Honnecourt, who traveled Europe and Hungary between 1225 and 1235 (at least), sketching along the way. As well as buildings (especially churches), machinery, and people, he sketched a lot of animals. Some were studies in how geometry helps to draw. Some were animals for their own sake. 

For instance, here's a snail that was added to the page on which the soldier from the previous post was found. And a bear and a swan on their own page. Just under the swan's tail is a church he wanted to sketch, but the swan was more important?

He sketches horses on more than one page, and there are numerous small creatures: there's even a page of insects.

There is one animal that he draws more than once, and one of the drawings gets a whole page to itself. I'm talking about the lion.

It would probably be more appropriate to say a lion, because I cannot imagine he ran into more than one. In the image to the left we see a lion tamer. Villard's note makes sure you know that this is "from life."

The term he uses that is translated "from life" is the Medieval French contrefait. If that word looks familiar even to non-French speakers, that is because it is the origin of the modern word "counterfeit." Don't be alarmed that it seems to contradict what he said about "from life": contrefait did not have the same connotations. It meant (and still means) to imitate. Modern parlance defines this is "not real." For Villard, it meant that he may not have been sitting there watching the event when he drew it, but he is imitating a factual thing. He is assuring us that this scene happened. We have no reason to doubt him. That does not mean that he observed this himself; just that he is adamant that it is real. He includes another picture in which he makes the same claim.

Lions in Medieval Western Europe would have been scarce or non-existent, appearing largely in literature and on heraldic designs, usually very stylized. Still, he was confident enough about the lion that he was sure he could draw it convincingly. Was there the possibility that he would have seen a lion in captivity? Or had the opportunity to look at one face-on so he could draw it?

Were there zoos in the Middle Ages? If there were, what were they like? Where did the animals come from?

Which all sounds like an excellent topic to explore next.

Villard de Honnecourt's People

Who was Villard de Honnecourt? He mentions in his sketches that he had been to many lands, including spending several days in Hungary. He doesn't tell us why he was there, but a theory has arisen. One of the radiating chapels in the new chevet of Cambrai Cathedral as dedicated to St. Elizabeth of Hungary. It is possible that Villard was there to obtain a relic of the saint for the cathedral. Elizabeth died in 1234 and was canonized 27 May 1235 by Pope Gregory IX (canonization in those days wasn't as rigorous a process as it is today). Ten miles south of Cambrai Cathedral is the village of Honnecourt. Villard may have been an architect/engineer for Cambrai.

It is entirely possible that he was tasked with traveling to procure a relic, and used the opportunity to make sketches along the way. Not only did he record architectural details and draw machines, he also drew subjects "from life."

Some of them are figures of saints or Christ, likely taken from art, but some are obviously activities of real people. The first illustration here is a soldier at rest. We get some idea of what a soldier would wear; we see what looks like chainmail under his tunic, along with a chainmail coif. Unlike the simplified straight lines of his machine drawings, here we see attention to the detail of folds and pleats in the fabric.

Another interesting sketch from life is the wrestlers.

Is it a serious bout, or just two friends playing? We will never know, especially because he doesn't even caption this, as he usually does with his sketches. The regular design cut off on the right side of the illustration is part of Cambrai Cathedral: This is the plan of the apse and the choir (chevet) of Our Lady of Cambrai as it is now rising from the ground.

This page has been turned sideways so that he can include the wrestlers, but as much as he cared to represent them carefully—the folds of their loincloths, the contours of their bodies—it was just an idle addition.

He was, however, interested in demonstrating how to draw from life. Some of his sketches show the geometry and symmetry of the human body and face, as a guide to drawing. In the drawing below he endeavored to show how easy it was to find the proper proportion in drawing from life. 

His caption reads: Here begins the method of representation as taught by the art of geometry, to facilitate work.

On a page of the twelve apostles (and three other figures, he writes: Here you will find the images of the the Twelve Apostles, sitting. Villard de Honnecourt greets you and begs all who use the devices found in this book to pray for his soul and remember him. For in this book will be found sound advice on the virtues of masonry and the uses of carpentry. You will find strong help in drawing figures according to the lessons taught by the art of geometry.

The illustration to the left shows that he wasn't just interested in people. He had quite a few sketches of animals, and one species in particular (besides the occasional horse) was of such interest that he stressed to the viewer that it was "from life" and not imagination. But that is tomorrow's topic.

Villard de Honnecourt's Machines

I've mentioned Villard de Honecourt back in 2012; he is so worth another look. Anything we know about him is entirely incidental. Around 1225-1235, he traveled around Europe, and went as far as Hungary, sketching artwork, buildings, machines, animals and other items of interest to him along the way—250 separate items sketched in all. His sketches have prompted us to assume he was an engineer and/or architect. (Panofsky obviously assumed architect; see the previous post.) He sketched various figures that were clearly on the facades of cathedrals, as well as floor plans and elevations of cathedrals. He had a fascination for machines, however. 

One of his drawings, pictured here, is for a perpetual motion machine. He has captioned it: Often have experts striven to make a wheel turn of its own accord. Here is a way to do it with an uneven number of mallets and with quicksilver.

He also made simplified drawings of a machine for cutting the tops of piles under water when creating a pier, for straightening a sagging house, for bracing the spokes while making a wheel, and more. And here's another set of machines.

Starting from the top, his notes describe a saw that operates itself, a crossbow that won't miss, engines for lifting heavy weights, and how to make an eagle that turns toward the deacon when he preaches.

Despite the above implication that you can learn a lot from his drawings, an early theory that he intended these drawing as teaching tools has been dismissed since, other than the drawings themselves, there are no details regarding construction or operation.

His collection passed through various hands, some of whom have written their names on pages, and eventually came into the possession of the Bibliothèque National de France in the winter of 1795-96. If you want to purchase a facsimile edition, or at least view a brief video of one, click here.

I think some of his sketches taken from life should get some exposure. See you tomorrow.

Scholasticism and Gothic Architecture

There is a 20th century art historian who has appeared in two posts because of his eye-opening contributions to the field in the 1940s: here where he explained multiple renaissances, and here where he pinpointed the birth of gothic architecture and the motivating factor behind it. (I recommend you check those links before you read further.) He followed those in 1951 with a lecture called "Gothic Architecture and Scholasticism."

He noted that gothic architecture originated and flourished in the "100-mile zone around Paris" and was contemporaneous with the growth and spread of scholasticism. This would have been interesting enough on its own as an observation, but he went further, insisting there was:

A connection between Gothic art and Scholasticism which is more concrete than a mere "parallelism"...the connection which I have in mind is a genuine cause-and-effect relation.

We can extrapolate some connections ourselves without looking further into Panofsky: the architect and the scholastic were two of the most educated people in the community. Both, in their own way, were blending the religious (a site for worship, church doctrine) with something more "grounded" (a complex building, logical reasoning).

Panofsky also sees the scholastic trend toward categorization and chapter/sub-chapter organization of thought in the arch>smaller arch layering of the typical Gothic elevation (see the illustration). Likewise, he sees the desire to match scholastic clarification in the large windows that allowed more light than the previous Romanesque style, and the intellectual desire for getting at the "unvarnished truth" in the exposed buttresses.

He concludes with one more observation:

...which shows that at least some of the French thirteenth-century architects did think and act in strictly Scholastic terms. In Villard de Honnecourt’s “Album” there is to be found the groundplan of an “ideal” chevet* which he and another master, Pierre de Corbie, had devised, according to the slightly later inscription, inter se disputando. Here, then, we have two High Gothic architects discussing a quaestio, and a third one referring to this discussion by the specifically Scholastic term disputare instead of colloqui, deliberare, or the like. And what is the result of this disputatio? A chevet which combines, as it were, all possible Sics with all possible Nons.

In other words (Panofsky uses some Latin terms analogous to the lectio and quaestio and disputatio explained in the previous post), de Honnecourt and Corbie, who are not scholastics, are reaching an ideal design/conclusion using the methods standardized by scholastics. The Latin terms in his last sentence allude to the scholastic Peter Abelard's "Sic et Non" ("Yes or No") in which he discusses 158 contradictory points among church father writings. 

You can download a digital copy of Panofsky's work with illustrations here.

But what's this "Album" of Villard de Honnecourt's that he mentions? That's an excellent question. Stay tuned.

*A chevet is an apse with an ambulatory giving access behind the high altar to a series of chapels set in bays. See the second illustration.

Scholasticism, An Introduction

Scholasticism (from the Latin word scholasticus, which is from the Greek σχολαστικός, "pertaining to schools") was a method for approaching knowledge with a strong emphasis on dialectical reasoning: a topic would be brought up in the form of a question, and opposing viewpoints would try to reach a logical conclusion.

Three men who were considered the founders of Scholasticism (and links to where they've been mentioned here over the years) were Peter Abelard, Archbishop Lanfranc of Canterbury, and Archbishop Anselm of Canterbury. Many of the Scholastics, or Schoolmen, have been mentioned throughout this blog, some of them quite recently: Thomas Aquinas, Duns Scotus, Albertus Magnus, William of Ockham, Bonaventure, Peter Lombard.

One of its goals was to reconcile the wisdom of classical thinkers with Christian theology. The Toledo School of Translators started making the works of Greek, Judaic, and Arabic scholars available. Interest in the Iberian source of documents inspired some like Adelard of Bath to spend years traveling to where he could find works he could translate, such as Spain and Sicily. Among others, Adelard translated Euclid's Elements of Geometry from Arabic. Adelard also wrote original works; you can get a taste of one here.

Proper scholastic instruction had three phases: lectio, meditatio, quaestio. Lectio consisted of the master reading an authoritative text, plus any commentary; students listened in silence. This was followed by meditatio when students reflected on what they had heard. Only then would the students be allowed to ask questions. During the quaestio might be raised opposing viewpoints from other authors. This could lead to disputatio, a disputation where two opposing viewpoints debated a topic. (You'll remember a famous Disputation mentioned two months ago.)

A well-known 20th century art historian theorized that scholasticism actually influenced gothic architecture. I look forward to sharing it next.

Scholasticism

Around 1100CE, monastic schools started to discover the works of Aristotle, thanks to Judea-Islamic translations. Just as scholarly study was taking off in Western Europe, suddenly a body of knowledge that included a system of logic and was accompanied by a name of tremendous reputation. (One wonders what might have developed on its own if Aristotle hadn't appeared to offer them a "mold" to fit.)

Now scholars had a framework for studying the world, and by that I mean God. After all, among all the potential different opinions and ideas philosophers might have had, there was one constant: a supreme Being existed whose existence explained all things. Philosophers/Theologians from the Christian and Jewish and Muslim traditions—all children of Abraham—all agreed that everything came from God, and here now was the most prestigious pagan thinker "agreeing" with his logical conclusion that everything came from the Unmoved Mover, the First Cause.

But questions—and disagreements—remained.

Maimonides felt that philosophy/logic and religion were not opposing modes of thought; they should both lead to the same truths. You remember from several posts ago that he considered it appropriate to describe God in terms of what He was not. "God is not non-existent"; "God is not ignorant"; et cetera. This method is called apophatic. He also said "God is not corporeal" because to describe God—who was of course to be worshipped—as having a body would be a step toward idolatry, to which Maimonides was opposed. This got him into hot water with those scholars who took Genesis 1:26 seriously: "Let is make man in our image." He was condemned, and some wanted him excommunicated.

Averroes came under fire because he also considered philosophy an alternate but equal-to-religion way of finding truth that cannot contradict revelations in Islam. He believed that any contradictions should be resolved by understanding that the revelations in Islam about God must have been interpreted wrongly, and would need to be re-examined using philosophy. This flew in the face of fundamentalism; critiques of philosophy like The Incoherence of the Philosophers denounced people like Averroes. In 1195 his teachings were condemned, his works were ordered burned, and he was banished (although he was returned to court shortly before he died, on 11 December 1198).

Aquinas caused raised eyebrows because of Aristotle and Averroes. Introducing their ideas from non-Christian sources was a very controversial move. When Aquinas was made regent master at the University of Paris, he was accused of encouraging Averroists by a Franciscan master who considered certain more free-thinking philosophers as "blind leaders of the blind."

So philosophers and theologians who centuries later are heralded as giants in the field whose works are considered foundational were not universally respected or followed in their own time.

A little more on Scholasticism next time, and then maybe time for a lighter topic or two.

Averroes

(Note: Most of this is from the previous post "The Commentator" on 11 December 2012)

Averroes (1126-1198) was born in Córdoba into a family of distinguished jurists and scholars at a time when Islamic culture was flourishing in Spain. He probably would have spent his life as a judge if not for his mentor and friend, the physician Abu Bakr ibn Tufayl, who told him that he should write commentaries on the works of Aristotle. The problem seen by ibn Tufayl was that Aristotle was too obscure either because of the ambiguity of his own writing or the shortcomings of his translators.

Averroes, whose real name was ʾAbū al-Walīd Muḥammad bin ʾAḥmad bin Rušd, embraced the task so thoroughly that, to the West, he became known as "The Commentator." His scholarship was embraced across cultures: Jacob Anatoli translated Averroes' Commentaries into Hebrew. Anatoli's colleague and friend Michael Scot translated some directly into Latin.

He analyzed and promoted most of Aristotle (and Plato's Republic) to the known world, as well as writing dozens of books of his own. So far as we know, he did not have access to original texts—there is no evidence that he knew Greek—and so his commentaries are based on Arabic translations of Aristotle.

He was a rationalist, he asserted that philosophy and religion were not in conflict because they taught about the same things. Common people needed religion and faith to understand what the intellectual could understand through reason and logic. He felt proper understanding of the Koran required analytical thinking.

Unfortunately for him, his rationalist views often got him into trouble when they came up against Islamic theology (which he had studied extensively). He was, in fact, banished by a caliph to whom he had been the personal physician, because some side remarks in Averroes' writing (such as "that Venus is one of the gods") struck the caliph as blasphemous. Fortunately, Averroes was allowed to return home prior to his death.

We've looked at a few different philosophers. Next I want to talk about a particular medieval school of philosophy: scholasticism.

Aristotle in the Middle Ages

We do not know very many details about Aristotle's life: he was born in northern Greece about 384BCE; at the age of 19 he joined Plato's Academy. After Plato's death, he became a tutor to Alexander the Great at the request of Alexander's father, Philip II of Macedon.

Only about a third of his known works survive, but his literary output was extensive. For centuries his name was known to European scholars, but his writings were not. Copies were scarce, and were in a language unknown to most Europeans. He was known to Arab and Jewish scholars, and it is thanks to their translations that the works of Aristotle were brought to Western Europe. Aristotle's Organon, in a Latin translation by Boethius, was practically the only work available to Western Europe from 600 to 1100CE. This was a collection of six books by Aristotle on logic, and gave to the world the syllogism.

The 11th and 12th centuries saw Aristotle become better known through the translations from Arabic by folk like Gerard of Cremona at the Toledo School of Translators. Thomas Aquinas' Summa Theologica ("Summary of Theology") referred to Aristotle as "The Philosopher" which increased the demand for his works. Aristotle's philosophical ideas were adopted and adapted into Christian theology. Maimonides, Dante, Chaucer, Albertus Magnus, and many others all knew and revered Aristotle.

In Aristotle's Metaphysics he asserts that everything must have a cause. Something causes something else: the candle flame flutters because we breathe on it, the breath comes from our lungs, the lungs work because we inhale and decide to blow at the candle, etc. He posits that, at the origin of all activity there must be an "unmoved mover," a thing that moves without being moved. He does not call this God, but claims it must be perfectly beautiful, indivisible, contemplating perfection, which is to say a self-contemplating intellect.

Maimonides and Aquinas and others knew, of course, what this was, and revered the pagan Aristotle for proving the existence of the First Cause, God. So what could the problem be with Aristotle and Christianity? A brief stop next at the life and works of Averroes and we will have representative Jewish, Christian, and Muslim philosophers to look at the question: is God logical?

Thomas Aquinas

I suppose if we wanted to find a Christian parallel to Maimonides, Thomas Aquinas would be an obvious choice. Born into the aristocracy, noted for his learning and devoutness, his writing blending previous scholarship and building on it with impressive arguments backed up by Scripture and reason, his writings becoming foundational for what came after—no wonder he was nicknamed Doctor Angelicus ("The Angelic Doctor").

He was born in 1225 in the town of Aquino. His father was Count Landulph of Aquino, his mother Countess Theodora of Teano; he was related to the kings of Aragon, Castile, and France, as well as to Emperors Henry VI and Frederick II. A biography written a generation after he died claims that a holy hermit predicted to a pregnant Theodora that her child would become unequalled in learning and sanctity.

His education began at the typical age of five, with the Benedictines of Monte Cassino (his father's brother Sinibald was the abbot there from 1227-1236). Some time between 1236 and 1239 he was sent to a university at Naples where he would have first learned about Aristotle, Averroes, and Maimonides. Here he also came into contact with a Dominican preacher. The Dominicans had been founded 30 years earlier and were actively recruiting.

When he was 19 years old, Thomas announced that he wished to join the Dominicans, which displeased his "Benedictine-oriented" family. It displeased them so much that, while Thomas was traveling to Rome on his way to Paris to get away from the family's influence, his brothers (at his mother's request) kidnapped him. He was forced to stay in his parents' castle for almost a year, spending the time tutoring his sisters.

Attempts to dissuade him from the Dominicans became more desperate. His brothers sent a prostitute to seduce him. He fought her off with a burning log, then fell into a mystical trance and had a vision of two angels granting him perfect chastity. (They also gave him a "girdle of chastity" that now resides in Turin.) His mother, seeing that he would not change his mind, and not wanting to endure the embarrassment of allowing her son to join the Dominicans, she arranged for him to escape his home in 1244. He went to the University of Paris where he probably studied under Albertus Magnus. Because Thomas was quiet, his fellow students ridiculed him, but Albertus is supposed to have told them "You call him the dumb ox, but in his teaching he will one day produce such a bellowing that it will be heard throughout the world."

In 1256 he was appointed regent master in theology at Paris and began writing the first of his many theological works, Contra impugnantes Dei cultum et religionem ("Against Those Who Assail the Worship of God and Religion"), defending the mendicant orders.

His reputation as a theologian and teacher/preacher grew so much that he was granted the Archbishopric of Naples in 1265 by Pope Clement IV, but he turned it down. In the yard that followed he would have the time to write one of his greatest works, the Summa Theologica.

And this is where we come back to the comparison with Maimonides: despite the groundbreaking nature of his writing, which became foundational for much of what followed, he was not without his detractors. Some of his conclusions clashed with accepted thought from previous religious writers. To be able to discuss that, we should look at two other philosophers: Aristotle and Averroes. Stay tuned.