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LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  Of 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


MACMILLAN  AND  CO.,   LIMITED 

LONDON  •  BOMBAY  •  CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

NEW   YORK    •    BOSTON  •  CHICAGO 
ATLANTA    •    SAN    FRANCISCO 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,   LTD. 

TORONTO 


THE 

MEDIAEVAL    MIND 


A  HISTORY  OF  THE  DEVELOPMENT 

OF  THOUGHT  AND  EMOTION 

IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES 


BY 

HENRY    OSBORN    TAYLOR 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES 
VOL.  II 


MACMILLAN   AND  CO.,  LIMITED 

ST.  MARTIN'S   STREET,  LONDON 

191 1 


CONTENTS 

BOOK    IV 

THE   IDEAL  AND   THE  ACTUAL:    SOCIETY 

(continued] 

CHAPTER    XXV 


I'AGE 


THE  HEART  OF  HELOISE      .  3 

CHAPTER    XXVI 

GERMAN  CONSIDERATIONS  :  WALTHER  VON  DER  VOGELWEIDE        28 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

SCRIPTURAL   ALLEGORIES    IN    THE   EARLY    MIDDLE  AGES  ; 

HONORIUS  OF  AUTUN  .  .        4 ' 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

THE   RATIONALE  OF  THE  VISIBLE  WORLD:   HUGO  OF  ST. 

VICTOR  .,»«'     -..        -.        ,/;      60 


vi  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


CHAPTER    XXIX 


PAGE 


CATHEDRAL  AND  MASS  ;  HYMN  AND  IMAGINATIVE  POEM  76 

I.   Guilelmus  Durandus  and  Vincent  of  Beauvais. 
II.  The    Hymns    of    Adam    of    St.     Victor    and    the 
Antidaudianus  of  Alanus  of  Lille. 


BOOK    VI 
LATINITY   AND    LAW 

CHAPTER    XXX 

THE  SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS         .        .        ".        .        .        .107 

1.   Classical  Reading. 
II.  Grammar. 

III.  The  Effect  upon  the  Mediaeval  Man;    Hildebert  of 
Lavardin. 

CHAPTER    XXXI 

EVOLUTION  OF  MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  PROSE       .        .        .        .148 

CHAPTER    XXXII 

EVOLUTION  OF  MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE      .        .        .        .186 

I.  Metrical  Verse. 
II.   Substitution  of  Accent  for  Quantity. 

III.  Sequence-Hymn  and  Student-Song. 

IV.  Passage  of  Themes  into  the  Vernacular. 


CONTENTS  vit 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 

rA(.K 

MEDIAEVAL  APPROPRIATION  OF  THE  ROMAN  LAW  .        4        ,      231 
I.  The  Fontes  Juris  Civilis. 
II.  Roman  and  Barbarian  Codification. 

III.  The  Mediaeval  Appropriation. 

IV.  Church  Law. 

V.  Political  Theorizing. 


BOOK   VII 

ULTIMATE  INTELLECTUAL  INTERESTS  OF 
THE  TWELFTH  AND  THIRTEENTH  CEN- 
TURIES 

CHAPTER    XXXIV 

SCHOLASTICISM  :  SPIRIT,  SCOPE,  AND  METHOD       .        ,..>     .„'      283 

CHAPTER    XXXV 

CLASSIFICATION  OF  TOPICS  ;  STAGES  OF  EVOLUTION       .         .       311 

I.  Philosophic  Classification  of  the  Sciences  ;  the 
Arrangement  of  Vincent's  Encyclopaedia,  of  the 
Lombard's  Sentences,  of  Aquinas's  Summa  theo- 
logiae. 

II.  The  Stages  of  Development  :  Grammar,  Logic,  Meta- 
logics. 

CHAPTER    XXXVI 

TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICISM       .        .        .        ...      338 

I.  The  Problem  of  Universals  :  Abaelard. 
II.  The  Mystic  Strain  :  Hugo  and  Bernard. 
III.  The  Later  Decades:  Bernard   Silvestris  ;  Gilbert  de 
la  Porrde  ;  William  of  Conches  ;  John  of  Salisbury, 
and  Alanus  of  Lille. 


viii  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND 

CHAPTER    XXXVII 

FA(,K 

THE  UNIVERSITIES,  ARISTOTLE,  AND  THE  MENDICANTS  .        .       378 
CHAPTER    XXXVIII 

BONA  VENTURA 40  2 

CHAPTER    XXXIX 

ALBERTUS  MAGNUS 420 

CHAPTER    XL 

THOMAS  AQUINAS 433 

I.  Thomas's  Conception  of  Human  Beatitude. 
II.   Man's  Capacity  to  know  God. 

III.  How  God  knows. 

IV.  How  the  Angels  know. 
V.   How  Men  know. 

VI.   Knowledge  through  Faith  perfected  in  Love. 

CHAPTER    XLI 
ROGER  BACON      .        . 484 

CHAPTER    XLII 

DUNS  SCOTUS  AND  OCCAM 509 

CHAPTER    XLIII 

THE  MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  :  DANTE    .     i  v»  K  -,.<>      •        •       525 

INDEX  .  \       561 


BOOK    IV 

THE   IDEAL  AND   THE   ACTUAL: 
SOCIETY 

(Continued} 


VOL.  II  i  B 


CHAPTER    XXV 

THE    HEART    OF    HELOISE 

THE  romantic  growth  and  imaginative  shaping  of  chivalric 
love  having  been  followed  in  the  fortunes  of  its  great 
exemplars,  Tristan,  Iseult,  Lancelot,  Guinevere,  Parzival,  a 
different  illustration  of  mediaeval  passion  may  be  had  by 
turning  from  these  creations  of  literature  to  an  actual 
woman,  whose  love  for  a  living  man  was  thought  out  as 
keenly  and  as  tragically  felt  as  any  heart-break  of  imagined 
lovers,  and  was  impressed  with  as  entire  a  self-surrender  as 
ever  ravished  the  soul  of  nun  panting  with  love  of  the 
God-man. 

There  has  never  been  a  passion  between  a  man  and 
woman  more  famous  than  that  which  brought  happiness 
and  sorrow  to  the  lives  of  Abaelard  and  Heloi'se.  Here 
fame  is  just.  It  was  a  great  love,  and  its  course  was  a 
perfect  soul's  tragedy.  Abaelard  was  a  celebrity,  the 
intellectual  glory  of  an  active-minded  epoch.  His  love- 
story  has  done  as  much  for  his  posthumous  fame  as  all  his 
intellectual  activities.  Heloi'se  became  known  in  her  time 
through  her  relations  with  Abaelard  ;  in  his  songs  her  name 
was  wafted  far.  She  has  come  down  to  us  as  one  of  the 
world's  love-heroines.  Yet  few  of  those  who  have  been 
touched  by  her  story  have  known  that  Heloi'se  was  a  great 
woman,  possessed  of  an  admirable  mind,  a  character  which 
proved  its  strength  through  years,  and,  above  all,  a  capacity 
for  loving — for  loving  out  to  the  full  conclusions  of  love's 
convictions,  and  for  feeling  in  their  full  range  and  power 
whatever  moods  and  emotions  could  arise  from  an  unhappy 
situation  and  a  passion  as  deeply  felt  as  it  was  deeply 
thought  upon. 

3 


4  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  iv 

Abaelard  was  not  a  great  character — aside  from  his 
intellect.  He  was  vain  and  inconsiderate,  a  man  who 
delighted  in  confounding  and  supplanting  his  teachers,  and 
in  being  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  all  opponents.  But  he 
became  chastened  through  his  misfortunes  and  through 
Helolse's  high  and  self-sacrificing  love.  In  the  end,  perhaps, 
his  love  was  worthy  of  the  love  of  Helo'fse.  Yet  her  love 
from  the  beginning  was  nobler  and  deeper  than  his  love  of 
her.  Love  was  for  him  an  incident  in  his  experience,  then 
an  element  in  his  life.  Love  made  the  life  of  Helolse  ;  it 
remained  her  all.  Moreover,  in  the  records  of  their  passion, 
Helo'fse's  love  is  unveiled  as  Abaelard's  is  not.  For  all 
these  reasons,  the  heart  of  Heloi'se  rather  than  the  heart 
of  Abaelard  discloses  the  greatness  of  a  love  that  wept  itself 
out  in  the  twelfth  century,  and  it  is  her  love  rather  than  his 
that  can  teach  us  much  regarding  the  mediaeval  capacity  for 
loving.  Hers  is  a  story  of  mediaeval  womanhood,  and  sin, 
and  repentance  perhaps,  with  peace  at  last,  or  at  least  the 
lips  shut  close  and  further  protest  foregone. 

Abaelard's  stormy  intellectual  career1  and  the  story 
of  the  love  between  him  and  the  canon's  niece  are  well 
known.  Let  us  follow  him  in  those  parts  of  his  narrative 
which  disclose  the  depth  and  power  of  Helo'fse's  love  for 
him.  We  draw  from  his  Historia  calamitatum,  written  "  to 
a  friend,"  apparently  an  open  letter  intended  to  circulate. 

"  There  was,"  writes  he,  referring  to  the  time  of  his 
sojourn  in  Paris,  when  he  was  about  thirty-six  years  old, 
and  at  the  height  of  his  fame  as  a  lecturer  in  the  schools — 

"There  was  in  Paris  a  young  girl  named  Heloi'se,  the  niece  of 
a  canon,  Fulbert.  It  was  his  affectionate  wish  that  she  should 
have  the  best  education  in  letters  that  could  be  procured.  Her  face 
was  not  unfair,  and  her  knowledge  was  unequalled.  This  attainment, 
so  rare  in  women,  had  given  her  great  reputation. 

"  I  had  hitherto  lived  continently,  but  now  was  casting  my  eyes 
about,  and  I  saw  that  she  possessed  every  attraction  that  lovers 
seek ;  nor  did  I  regard  my  success  as  doubtful,  when  I  considered 
my  fame  and  my  goodly  person,  and  also  her  love  of  letters. 
Inflamed  with  love,  I  thought  how  I  could  best  become  intimate 
with  her.  It  occurred  to  me  to  obtain  lodgings  with  her  uncle,  on 

,  Chapter  XXXVI.,  i. 


CHAP,  xxv         THE  HEART  OF  HELOlSE  5 

the  plea  that  household  cares  distracted  me  from  study.  Friends 
quickly  brought  this  about,  the  old  man  being  miserly  and  yet 
desirous  of  instruction  for  his  niece.  He  eagerly  entrusted  her  to 
my  tutorship,  and  begged  me  to  give  her  all  the  time  I  could  take 
from  my  lectures,  authorizing  me  to  see  her  at  any  hour  of  the  day 
or  night,  and  punish  her  when  necessary.  I  marvelled  with  what 
simplicity  he  confided  a  tender  lamb  to  a  hungry  wolf.  As  he  had 
given  me  authority  to  punish  her,  I  saw  that  if  caresses  would  not 
win  my  object,  I  could  bend  her  by  threats  and  blows.  Doubtless 
he  was  misled  by  love  of  his  niece  and  my  own  good  reputation. 
Well,  what  need  to  say  more :  we  were  united  first  by  the  one  roof 
above  us,  and  then  by  our  hearts.  Our  hours  of  study  were  given 
to  love.  The  books  lay  open,  but  our  words  were  of  love  rather 
than  philosophy,  there  were  more  kisses  than  aphorisms ;  and  love 
was  oftener  reflected  in  our  eyes  than  the  lettered  page.  To  avert 
suspicion,  I  struck  her  occasionally — very  gentle  blows  of  love. 
The  joy  of  love,  new  to  us  both,  brought  no  satiety.  The  more  I 
was  taken  up  with  this  pleasure,  the  less  time  I  gave  to  philosophy 
and  the  schools — how  tiresome  had  all  that  become  !  I  became 
unproductive,  merely  repeating  my  old  lectures,  and  if  I  composed 
any  verses,  love  was  their  subject,  and  not  the  secrets  of  philosophy ; 
you  know  how  popular  and  widely  sung  these  have  become.  But 
the  students  !  what  groans  and  laments  arose  from  them  at  my 
distraction !  A  passion  so  plain  was  not  to  be  concealed ;  every 
one  knew  of  it  except  Fulbert.  A  man  is  often  the  last  to  know  of 
his  own  shame.  Yet  what  everybody  knows  cannot  be  hid  forever, 
and  so  after  some  months  he  learned  all.  Oh  how  bitter  was  that 
uncle's  grief !  and  what  was  the  grief  of  the  separated  lovers  !  How 
ashamed  I  was,  and  afflicted  at  the  affliction  of  the  girl !  And  what 
a  storm  of  sorrow  came  over  her  at  my  disgrace.  Neither  com- 
plained for  himself,  but  each  grieved  at  what  the  other  must 
endure." 

Although  Abaelard  was  moved  at  the  plight  of  Heloi'se, 
he  bitterly  felt  his  own  discomfiture  in  the  eyes  of  the  once 
admiring  world.  But  the  sentence  touching  HeloKse  is  a 
first  true  note  of  her  devoted  love  :  what  a  storm  of  sorrow 
(moeroris  aestus}  came  over  her  at  my  disgrace.  Through 
this  trouble  and  woe,  Helo'fse  never  thought  of  her  own 
pain  save  as  it  pained  her  to  be  the  source  of  grief  to 
Abaelard. 

Abaelard  continues  : 

"The  separation  of  our  bodies  joined  our  souls  more  closely 
and  inflamed  our  love.  Shame  spent  itself  and  made  us  unashamed, 
so  small  a  thing  it  seemed  compared  with  satisfying  love.  Not  long 


6  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  iv 

afterwards  the  girl  knew  that  she  was  to  be  a  mother,  and  in  the 
greatest  exultation  wrote  and  asked  me  to  advise  what  she  should 
do.  One  night,  as  we  agreed  on,  when  Fulbert  was  away  I  bore 
her  off  secretly  and  sent  her  to  my  own  country,  Brittany,  where 
she  stayed  with  my  sister  till  she  gave  birth  to  a  son,  whom  she 
named  Astralabius. 

"  The  uncle,  on  his  return  to  his  empty  house,  was  frantic.  He 
did  not  know  what  to  do  to  me.  If  he  should  kill  or  do  me  some 
bodily  injury,  he  feared  lest  his  niece,  whom  he  loved,  would  suffer 
for  it  among  my  people  in  Brittany.  He  could  not  seize  me,  as  I 
was  prepared  against  all  attempts.  At  length,  pitying  his  anguish, 
and  feeling  remorse  at  having  caused  it,  I  went  to  him  as  a  suppliant 
and  promised  whatever  satisfaction  he  should  demand.  I  assured 
him  that  nothing  in  my  conduct  would  seem  remarkable  to  any  one 
who  had  felt  the  strength  of  love  or  would  take  the  pains  to  recall 
how  many  of  the  greatest  men  had  been  thrown  down  by  women, 
ever  since  the  world  began.  Whereupon  I  offered  him  a  satisfaction 
greater  than  he  could  have  hoped,  to  wit,  that  I  would  marry  her 
whom  I  had  corrupted,  if  only  the  marriage  might  be  kept  secret  so 
that  it  should  not  injure  me  in  the  minds  of  men.  He  agreed  and 
pledged  his  faith,  and  the  faith  of  his  friends,  and  sealed  with  kisses 
the  reconciliation  which  I  had  sought — so  that  he  might  more 
easily  betray  me  !  " 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Abaelard  was  a  clerk,  a 
clericus,  in  virtue  of  his  profession  of  letters  and  theology. 
Never  having  taken  orders,  he  could  marry  ;  but  while  a 
clerk's  slip  could  be  forgotten,  marriage  might  lead  people 
to  think  he  had  slighted  his  vocation,  and  would  certainly 
bar  the  ecclesiastical  preferment  which  such  a  famous  clericus 
might  naturally  look  forward  to.  Nevertheless,  he  at  once 
set  out  to  fetch  Helolse  from  Brittany,  to  make  her  his  wife. 

The  stand  which  she  now  took  shows  both  her  mind 
and  heart : 

"  She  strongly  disapproved,  and  urged  two  reasons  against  the 
marriage,  to  wit,  the  danger  and  the  disgrace  in  which  it  would 
involve  me.  She  swore — and  so  it  proved — that  no  satisfaction 
would  ever  appease  her  uncle.  She  asked  how  she  was  to  have  any 
glory  through  me  when  she  should  have  made  me  inglorious,  and 
should  have  humiliated  both  herself  and  me.  What  penalties  would 
the  world  exact  from  her  if  she  deprived  it  of  such  a  luminary ; 
what  curses,  what  damage  to  the  Church,  what  lamentations  of 
philosophers,  would  follow  on  this  marriage.  How  indecent,  how 
lamentable  would  it  be  for  a  man  whom  nature  had  made  for  all,  to 
declare  that  he  belonged  to  one  woman,  and  subject  himself  to  such 


CHAP,  xxv         THE   HEART  OF  HELOlSE  7 

shame.  From  her  soul,  she  detested  this  marriage  which  would  be 
so  utterly  ignominious  for  me,  and  a  burden  to  me.  She  expatiated 
on  the  disgrace  and  inconvenience  of  matrimony  for  me  and  quoted 
the  Apostle  Paul  exhorting  men  to  shun  it.  If  I  would  not  take 
the  apostle's  advice  or  listen  to  what  the  saints  had  said  regarding 
the  matrimonial  yoke,  I  should  at  least  pay  attention  to  the 
philosophers — to  Theophrastus's  words  upon  the  intolerable  evils 
of  marriage,  and  to  the  refusal  of  Cicero  to  take  a  wife  after  he  had 
divorced  Terentia,  when  he  said  that  he  could  not  devote  himself 
to  a  wife  and  philosophy  at  the  same  time.  '  Or,'  she  continued, 
laying  aside  the  disaccord  between  study  and  a  wife,  '  consider  what 
a  married  man's  establishment  would  be  to  you.  What  sweet  accord 
there  would  be  between  the  schools  and  domestics,  between  copyists 
and  cradles,  between  books  and  distaffs,  between  pen  and  spindle ! 
Who,  engaged  in  religious  or  philosophical  meditations,  could 
endure  a  baby's  crying  and  the  nurse's  ditties  stilling  it,  and  all  the 
noise  of  servants?  Could  you  put  up  with  the  dirty  ways  of 
children  ?  The  rich  can,  you  say,  with  their  palaces  and  apartments 
of  all  kinds ;  their  wealth  does  not  feel  the  expense  or  the  daily 
care  and  annoyance.  But  I  say,  the  state  of  the  rich  is  not  that  of 
philosophers ;  nor  have  men  entangled  in  riches  and  affairs  any 
time  for  the  study  of  Scripture  or  philosophy.  The  renowned 
philosophers  of  old,  despising  the  world,  fleeing  rather  than 
relinquishing  it,  forbade  themselves  all  pleasures,  and  reposed  in 
the  embraces  of  philosophy.' " 

Speaking  thus,  Helolse  fortified  her  argument  with 
quotations  from  Seneca,  and  the  examples  of  Jewish  and 
Gentile  worthies  and  Christian  saints,  and  continued  : 

"  It  is  not  for  me  to  point  out — for  I  would  not  be  thought  to 
instruct  Minerva — how  soberly  and  continently  all  these  men  lived 
who,  according  to  Augustine  and  others,  were  called  philosophers 
as  much  for  their  way  of  life  as  for  their  knowledge.  If  laymen 
and  Gentiles,  bound  by  no  profession  of  religion,  lived  thus,  surely 
you,  a  clerk  and  canon,  should  not  prefer  low  pleasures  to  sacred 
duties,  nor  let  yourself  be  sucked  down  by  this  Charybdis  and 
smothered  in  filth  inextricably.  If  you  do  not  value  the  privilege 
of  a  clerk,  at  least  defend  the  dignity  of  a  philosopher.  If 
reverence  for  God  be  despised,  still  let  love  of  decency  temper 
immodesty.  Remember,  Socrates  was  tied  to  a  wife,  and  through 
a  nasty  accident  wiped  out  this  blot  upon  philosophy,  that  others 
afterwards  might  be  more  cautious;  which  Jerome  relates  in  his 
book  against  Jovinianus,  how  once  when  enduring  a  storm  of 
Xanthippe's  clamours  from  the  floor  above,  he  was  ducked  with 
slops,  and  simply  said,  '  I  knew  such  thunder  would  bring  rain.' 


8  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  w 

"  Finally  she  said  that  it  would  be  dangerous  for  me  to  take  her 
back  to  Paris ;  it  was  more  becoming  to  me,  and  sweeter  to  her,  to 
be  called  my  mistress,  so  that  affection  alone  might  keep  me  hers 
and  not  the  binding  power  of  any  matrimonial  chain ;  and  if  we 
should  be  separated  for  a  time,  our  joys  at  meeting  would  be  the 
dearer  for  their  rarity.  When  at  last  with  all  her  persuasions  and 
dissuasions  she  could  not  turn  me  from  my  folly,  and  could  not 
bear  to  offend  me,  with  a  burst  of  tears  she  ended  in  these  words : 
'  One  thing  is  left :  in  the  ruin  of  us  both  the  grief  which  follows 
shall  not  be  less  than  the  love  which  went  before.'  Nor  did  she 
here  lack  the  spirit  of  prophecy." 

Helo'fse's  reasonings  show  love  great  and  true  and  her 
absolute  devotion  to  Abaelard's  interests.  None  the  less 
striking  is  her  clear  intelligence.  She  reasoned  correctly  ; 
she  was  right,  the  marriage  would  do  great  harm  to  Abaelard 
and  little  good  to  her.  We  see  this  too,  if  we  lay  aside  our 
sense  of  the  ennobling  purity  of  marriage — a  sentiment  not 
commonly  felt  in  the  twelfth  century.  Marriage  was  holy 
in  the  mind  of  Christ.  But  it  did  not  preserve  its  holiness 
through  the  centuries  which  saw  the  rise  of  monasticism  and 
priestly  celibacy.  A  way  of  life  is  not  pure  and  holy  when 
another  way  is  holier  and  purer ;  this  is  peculiarly  true 
in  Christianity,  which  demands  the  ideal  best  with  such 
intensity  as  to  cast  reflection  on  whatever  falls  below  the 
highest  standard.  From  the  time  of  the  barbarian  inroads, 
on  through  the  Carolingian  periods,  and  into  the  later 
Middle  Ages,  there  was  enough  barbarism  and  brutality  to 
prevent  the  preservation,  or  impede  the  development,  of  a 
high  standard  of  marriage.  Not  monasticism,  but  his  own 
half-barbarian,  lustful  heart  led  Charlemagne  to  marry  and 
remarry  at  will,  and  have  many  mistresses  besides.  It  was 
the  same  with  the  countless  barons  and  mediaeval  kings, 
rude  and  half  civilized.  This  was  barbarous  lust,  not  due 
to  the  influence  of  monasticism.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  was  always  the  virgin  or  celibate  state  that  the  Church 
held  before  the  eyes  of  all  this  semi-barbarous  laity  as  the 
ideal  for  a  Christian  man  or  woman.  The  Church  sanctioned 
marriage,  but  hardly  lauded  it  or  held  it  up  as  a  condition 
in  which  lives  of  holiness  and  purity  could  be  led.  Such 
were  the  sentiments  in  which  Helo'fse  was  born  and  bred. 
They  were  subconscious  factors  in  her  thoughts  regarding 


CHAP,  xxv         THE   HEART  OF  HELOISE  9 

herself  and  her  lover.  Devoted  and  unselfish  was  her  love  ; 
undoubtedly  Helo'fse  would  have  sacrificed  herself  for 
Abaelard  under  any  social  conditions.  Nevertheless,  with 
her,  marriage  added  little  to  love ;  it  was  a  mere  formal 
and  binding  authorization  ;  love  was  no  purer  for  it.  To 
her  mind,  for  a  man  in  Abaelard's  situation  to  be  entangled 
in  a  temporary  amour  was  better  than  to  be  chained  to  his 
passion,  with  his  career  irrevocably  ruined,  in  marriage.  In 
so  far  as  her  thoughts  or  Abaelard's  were  influenced  by  the 
environment  of  priestly  thinking,  marriage  would  seem  a 
rendering  permanent  of  a  passionate  and  sinful  state,  which 
it  were  best  to  cast  off  altogether.  For  herself,  as  she  said 
truly,  the  marriage  would  bring  obloquy  rather  than  re- 
instatement. She  had  been  mistress  to  a  clerk  ;  marriage 
would  make  her  the  partner  of  his  abandonment  of  his 
vocation,  the  accomplice  of  broken  purposes  if  not  of  broken 
vows.  And  finally,  as  there  was  then  no  line  of  disgrace  as 
now  between  bastard  and  lawful  issue,  Helo'fse  had  no 
thought  that  the  interests  of  her  son  demanded  that  his 
mother  should  become  his  father's  wife. 

"Leaving  our  sdn  in  my  sister's  care,  we  stole  back  to  Paris, 
and  shortly  after,  having  in  the  night  celebrated  our  vigils  in  a 
certain  church,  we  were  married  at  dawn  in  the  presence  of  her 
uncle  and  some  of  his  and  our  friends.  We  left  at  once  separately 
and  with  secrecy,  and  afterwards  saw  each  other  only  in  privacy,  so 
as  to  conceal  what  we  had  done.  But  her  uncle  and  his  household 
began  at  once  to  announce  the  marriage  and  violate  his  word  ; 
while  she,  on  the  contrary,  protested  vehemently  and  swore  that  it 
was  false.  At  that  he  became  enraged  and  treated  her  vilely. 
When  I  discovered  this  I  sent  her  to  the  convent  of  Argenteuil, 
near  Paris,  where  she  had  been  educated.  There  I  had  her  take 
the  garb  of  a  nun,  except  the  veil.  Hearing  this,  the  uncle  and  his 
relations  thought  that  I  had  duped  them,  ridding  myself  of  Heloise 
by  making  her  a  nun.  So  having  bribed  my  servant,  they  came 
upon  me  by  night,  when  I  was  sleeping,  and  took  on  me  a  vengeance 
as  cruel  and  irretrievable  as  it  was  vile  and  shameful.  Two  of  the 
perpetrators  were  pursued  and  vengeance  taken. 

"  In  the  morning  the  whole  town  was  assembled,  crying  and 
lamenting  my  plight,  especially  the  clerks  and  students ;  at  which  I 
was  afflicted  with  more  shame  than  I  suffered  physical  pain.  I 
thought  of  my  ruined  hopes  and  glory,  and  then  saw  that  by  God's 
just  judgment  I  was  punished  where  I  had  most  sinned,  and  that 


10  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  iv 

Fulbert  had  justly  avenged  treachery  with  treachery.  But  what  a 
figure  I  should  cut  in  public !  how  the  world  would  point  its  finger 
at  me !  I  was  also  confounded  at  the  thought  of  the  Levitical  law, 
according  to  which  I  had  become  an  abomination  to  the  Church.1 
In  this  misery  the  confusion  of  shame — I  confess  it — rather  than 
the  ardour  of  conversion  drove  me  to  the  cover  of  the  cloister,  after 
she  had  willingly  obeyed  my  command  to  take  the  veil.  I  became 
a  monk  in  the  abbey  of  St.  Denis,  and  she  a  nun  in  the  convent 
of  Argenteuil.  Many  begged  her  not  to  set  that  yoke  upon  her 
youth  ;  at  which,  amid  her  tears,  she  broke  out  in  Cornelia's  lament : 
'  O  great  husband  !  undeserving  of  my  couch  !  Has  fortune  rights 
over  a  head  so  high  ?  Why  did  I,  impious,  marry  thee  to  make 
thee  wretched  ?  Accept  these  penalties,  which  I  gladly  pay.' 2 
With  these  words,  she  went  straight  to  the  altar,  received  the  veil 
blessed  by  the  bishop,  and  took  the  vows  before  them  all.' 

Abaelard's  Historia  calamitatum  now  turns  to  troubles 
having  no  connection  with  Heloi'se  :  his  difficulties  with  the 
monks  of  St.  Denis,  with  other  monks,  with  every  one,  in 
fact,  except  his  scholars  ;  his  arraignment  before  the  Council 
of  Soissons,  the  public  burning  of  his  book,  De  Unitate  et 
Trinitate  divina,  and  various  other  troubles,  till,  seeking  a 
retreat,  he  constructed  an  oratory  on  the  bank  of  the 
Ardisson.  He  named  it  the  Paraclete,  and  there  he  taught 
and  lectured.  He  was  afterwards  elected  abbot  of  a 
monastery  in  Brittany,  where  he  discovered  that  those  under 
him  were  savage  beasts  rather  than  monks.  Here  the 
Historia  calamitatum  was  written. 

The  monks  of  St.  Denis  had  never  ceased  to  hate 
Abaelard  for  his  assertion  that  their  great  Saint  was  not 
really  Dionysius  the  Areopagite  who  heard  Paul  preach. 
Their  abbot  now  brought  forward  and  proved  an  ancient 
title  to  the  land  where  stood  the  convent  of  Argenteuil,  "  in 
which,"  to  resume  Abaelard's  account, 

"she,  once  my  wife,  now  my  sister  in  Christ,  had  taken  the  veil, 
and  was  at  this  time  prioress.  The  nuns  were  rudely  driven  out. 
News  of  this  came  to  me  as  a  suggestion  from  the  Lord  to  bethink 
me  of  the  deserted  Paraclete.  Going  thither,  I  invited  Heloi'se  and 
her  nuns  to  come  and  take  possession.  They  accepted,  and  I  gave 
it  to  them.  Afterward  Pope  Innocent  II.  confirmed  this  grant  to 
them  and  their  successors  in  perpetuity.  There  for  a  time  they 

1  Lev.  xxi.  20;  Deut.  xxiii.  I.  2  Lucan,  Pharsalta,  viii.  94. 


CHAP,  xxv         THE  HEART  OF  HELOISE  1 1 

lived  in  want ;  but  soon  the  Divine  Pity  showed  itself  the  true 
Paraclete,  and  moved  the  people  of  the  neighbourhood  to  take 
compassion  on  them,  and  they  soon  knew  no  lack.  Indeed  as 
women  are  the  weaker  sex,  their  need  moves  men  more  readily  to 
pity,  and  their  virtues  are  the  more  grateful  to  both  God  and  man. 
And  on  our  sister  the  Lord  bestowed  such  favour  in  the  eyes  of  all, 
that  the  bishops  loved  her  as  a  daughter,  the  abbots  as  a  sister,  the 
laity  as  a  mother ;  and  all  wondered  at  her  piety,  her  wisdom,  and 
her  gentle  patience  in  everything.  She  rarely  let  herself  be  seen, 
that  she  might  devote  herself  more  wholly  to  prayers  and  meditations 
in  her  cell ;  but  all  the  more  persistently  people  sought  her  spiritual 
counsel." 

What  were  those  meditations  and  those  prayers  uttered 
or  unuttered  in  that  cell  ?  They  did  not  always  refer  to  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  judging  from  the  abbess's  first  letter  to 
her  former  lover.  After  the  installation  of  Heloifse  and  her 
nuns,  Abaelard  rarely  visited  the  Paraclete,  although  his 
advice  and  instruction  was  desired  there.  His  visits  gave 
rise  to  too  much  scandal.  In  the  course  of  time,  however, 
the  Historia  calamitatum  came  into  the  hands  of  Heloi'se, 
and  occasioned  this  letter,  which  seems  to  issue  forth  out  of 
a  long  silence  ;  ten  years  had  passed  since  she  became  a 
nun.  The  superscription  is  as  follows  : 

"To  her  master,  rather  to  a  father,  to  her  husband,  rather  to  a 
brother,  his  maid  or  rather  daughter,  his  wife  or  rather  sister,  to 
Abaelard,  Heloi'se. 

"Your  letter,  beloved,  written  to  comfort  a  friend,  chanced 
recently  to  reach  me.  Seeing  by  its  first  lines  from  whom  it  was,  I 
burned  to  read  it  for  the  love  I  bear  the  writer,  hoping  also  from 
its  words  to  recreate  an  image  of  him  whose  life  I  have  ruined. 
Those  words  dropped  gall  and  absinthe  as  they  brought  back  the 
unhappy  story  of  our  intercourse  and  thy  ceaseless  crosses,  O  my 
only  one.  Truly  the  letter  must  have  convinced  the  friend  that 
his  troubles  were  light  compared  with  yours,  as  you  showed  the 
treachery  and  persecutions  which  had  followed  you,  the  calumnies 
of  enemies  and  the  burning  of  your  glorious  book,  the  machinations 
of  false  brothers,  and  the  vile  acts  of  those  worthless  monks  whom 
you  call  your  sons.  No  one  could  read  it  with  dry  eyes.  Your 
perils  have  renewed  my  griefs ;  here  we  all  despair  of  your  life  and 
each  day  with  trembling  hearts  expect  news  of  your  death.  In  the 
name  of  Christ,  who  so  far  has  somehow  preserved  thee  for  himself, 
deign  with  frequent  letters  to  let  these  weak  servants  of  Him  and 
thee  know  of  the  storms  overwhelming  the  swimmer,  so  that  we  who 


12  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  iv 

alone  remain  to  thee  may  be  participators  of  thy  pain  or  joy.  One 
who  grieves  may  gain  consolation  from  those  grieving  with  him  ;  a 
burden  borne  by  many  is  more  lightly  borne.  And  if  this  tempest 
abates,  how  happy  shall  we  be  to  know  it.  Whatever  the  letters 
may  contain  they  will  show  at  least  that  we  are  not  forgotten.  Has 
not  Seneca  said  in  his  letter  to  Lucilius,  that  the  letters  of  an  absent 
friend  are  sweet?  When  no  malice  can  stop  your  giving  us  this 
much  of  you,  do  not  let  neglect  prove  a  bar. 

"  You  have  written  that  long  letter  to  console  a  friend  with  the 
story  of  your  own  misfortunes,  and  have  thereby  roused  our  grief 
and  added  to  our  desolation.  Heal  these  new  wounds.  You  owe 
to  us  a  deeper  debt  of  friendship  than  to  him,  for  we  are  not  only 
friends,  but  friends  the  dearest,  and  your  daughters.  After  God, 
you  alone  are  the  founder  of  this  place,  the  builder  of  this  oratory 
and  of  this  congregation.  This  new  plantation  for  a  holy  purpose 
is  your  own ;  the  delicate  plants  need  frequent  watering.  He  who 
gives  so  much  to  his  enemies,  should  consider  his  daughters.  Or, 
leaving  out  the  others  here,  think  how  this  is  owing  me  from  thee  : 
what  thou  owest  to  all  women  under  vows,  thou  shalt  pay  more 
devotedly  to  thine  only  one.  How  many  books  have  the  holy 
fathers  written  for  holy  women,  for  their  exhortation  and  instruction  ! 
I  marvel  at  thy  forgetfulness  of  these  frail  beginnings  of  our 
conversion.  Neither  respect  of  God  nor  love  of  us  nor  the  example 
of  the  blessed  fathers,  has  led  thee  by  speech  or  letter  to  console 
me,  cast  about,  and  consumed  with  grief.  This  obligation  was  the 
stronger,  because  the  sacrament  of  marriage  joined  thee  to  me,  and 
I — every  one  sees  it — cling  to  thee  with  unmeasured  love. 

"  Dearest,  thou  knowest — who  knows  not  ? — how  much  I  lost 
in  thee,  and  that  an  infamous  act  of  treachery  robbed  me  of  thee 
and  of  myself  at  once.  The  greater  my  grief,  the  greater  need  of 
consolation,  not  from  another  but  from  thee,  that  thou  who  art 
alone  my  cause  of  grief  may  be  alone  my  consolation.  It  is  thou 
alone  that  canst  sadden  me  or  gladden  me  or  comfort  me.  And 
thou  alone  owest  this  to  me,  especially  since  I  have  done  thy  will 
so  utterly  that,  unable  to  offend  thee,  I  endured  to  wreck  myself  at 
thy  command.  Nay,  more  than  this,  love  turned  to  madness  and 
cut  itself  off  from  hope  of  that  which  alone  it  sought,  when  I 
obediently  changed  my  garb  and  my  heart  too  in  order  that  I  might 
prove  thee  sole  owner  of  my  body  as  well  as  of  my  spirit.  God 
knows,  I  have  ever  sought  in  thee  only  thyself,  desiring  simply  thee 
and  not  what  was  thine.  I  asked  no  matrimonial  contract,  I  looked 
for  no  dowry ;  not  my  pleasure,  not  my  will,  but  thine  have  I 
striven  to  fulfil.  And  if  the  name  of  wife  seemed  holier  or  more 
potent,  the  word  mistress  (arnica}  was  always  sweeter  to  me,  or  even 
— be  not  angry  ! — concubine  or  harlot ;  for  the  more  I  lowered  my- 
self before  thee,  the  more  I  hoped  to  gain  thy  favour,  and  the  less  I 


CHAP,  xxv         THE   HEART  OF  HELOISE  13 

should  hurt  the  glory  of  thy  renown.  This  thou  didst  graciously 
remember,  when  condescending  to  point  out  in  that  letter  to  a  friend 
some  of  the  reasons  (but  not  all !)  why  I  preferred  love  to  wedlock 
and  liberty  to  a  chain.  I  call  God  to  witness  that  if  Augustus,  the 
master  of  the  world,  would  honour  me  with  marriage  and  invest  me 
with  equal  rule,  it  would  still  seem  to  me  dearer  and  more  honour- 
able to  be  called  thy  strumpet  than  his  empress.  He  who  is  rich 
and  powerful  is  not  the  better  man  :  that  is  a  matter  of  fortune,  this 
of  merit.  And  she  is  venal  who  marries  a  rich  man  sooner  than  a 
poor  man,  and  yearns  for  a  husband's  riches  rather  than  himself. 
Such  a  woman  deserves  pay  and  not  affection.  She  is  not  seeking 
the  man  but  his  goods,  and  would  wish,  if  possible,  to  prostitute 
herself  to  one  still  richer.  Aspasia  put  this  clearly  when  she  was 
trying  to  effect  a  reconciliation  between  Xenophon  and  his  wife : 
'  Until  you  come  to  think  that  there  is  nowhere  else  a  better  man 
or  a  woman  more  desirable,  you  will  be  continually  looking  for 
what  you  think  to  be  the  best,  and  will  wish  to  be  married  to  the 
man  or  woman  who  is  the  very  best.'  This  is  indeed  a  holy,  rather 
than  a  philosophical  sentiment,  and  wisdom,  not  philosophy,  speaks. 
This  is  the  holy  error  and  blessed  deception  between  man  and  wife, 
when  affection  perfect  and  unimpaired  keeps  marriage  inviolate  not 
so  much  by  continency  of  body  as  by  chastity  of  mind.  But  what 
with  other  women  is  an  error,  is,  in  my  case,  the  manifest  truth  : 
since  what  they  suppose  in  their  husbands,  I — and  the  whole  world 
agrees — know  to  be  in  thee.  My  love  for  thee  is  truth,  being  free 
from  all  error.  Who  among  kings  or  philosophers  can  vie  with  your 
fame  ?  What  country,  what  city  does  not  thirst  to  see  you  ?  Who, 
I  ask,  did  not  hurry  to  see  you  appearing  in  public  and  crane  his 
neck  to  catch  a  last  glimpse  as  you  departed?  What  wife,  what 
maid  did  not  yearn  for  you  absent,  and  burn  when  you  were 
present?  What  queen  did  not  envy  me  my  joys  and  couch? 
There  were  in  you  two  qualities  by  which  you  could  draw  the  soul 
of  any  woman,  the  gift  of  poetry  and  the  gift  of  singing,  gifts  which 
other  philosophers  have  lacked.  As  a  distraction  from  labour,  you 
composed  love-songs  both  in  metre  and  in  rhyme,  which  for  their 
sweet  sentiment  and  music  have  been  sung  and  resung  and  have 
kept  your  name  in  every  mouth.  Your  sweet  melodies  do  not 
permit  even  the  illiterate  to  forget  you.  Because  of  these  gifts 
women  sighed  for  your  love.  And,  as  these  songs  sung  of  our 
loves,  they  quickly  spread  my  name  in  many  lands,  and  made  me 
the  envy  of  my  sex.  What  excellence  of  mind  or  body  did  not 
adorn  your  youth  ?  No  woman,  then  envious,  but  now  would  pity 
me  bereft  of  such  delights.  What  enemy  even  would  not  now  be 
softened  by  the  compassion  due  me  ? 

"  I  have  brought  thee  evil,  thou  knowest  how  innocently.     Not 
the  result  of  the  act  but  the  disposition  of  the  doer  makes  the 


I4  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  iv 

crime ;  justice  does  not  consider  what  happens,  but  through  what 
intent  it  happens.  My  intent  towards  thee  thou  only  hast  proved 
and  alone  canst  judge.  I  commit  everything  to  thy  weighing  and 
submit  to  thy  decree. 

"  Tell  me  one  thing :  why,  after  our  conversion,  commanded  by 
thee,  did  I  drop  into  oblivion,  to  be  no  more  refreshed  by  speech 
of  thine  or  letter  ?  Tell  me,  I  say,  if  you  can,  or  I  will  say  what  I 
feel  and  what  every  one  suspects  :  desire  rather  than  friendship  drew 
you  to  me,  lust  rather  than  love.  So  when  desire  ceased,  whatever 
you  were  manifesting  for  its  sake  likewise  vanished.  This,  beloved, 
is  not  so  much  my  opinion  as  the  opinion  of  all.  Would  it  were 
only  mine  and  that  thy  love  might  find  defenders  to  argue  away  my 
pain.  Would  that  I  could  invent  some  reason  to  excuse  you  and 
also  cover  my  cheapness.  Listen,  I  beg,  to  what  I  ask,  and  it  will 
seem  small  and  very  easy  to  you.  Since  I  am  cheated  of  your 
presence,  at  least  put  vows  in  words,  of  which  you  have  a  store,  and 
so  keep  before  me  the  sweetness  of  thine  image.  I  shall  vainly 
expect  you  to  be  bountiful  in  acts  if  I  find  you  a  miser  in  words. 
Truly  I  thought  that  I  merited  much  from  you,  when  I  had  done 
all  for  your  sake  and  still  continue  in  obedience.  When  little  more 
than  a  girl  I  took  the  hard  vows  of  a  nun,  not  from  piety  but  at 
your  command.  If  I  merit  nothing  from  thee,  how  vain  I  deem 
my  labour !  I  can  expect  no  reward  from  God,  as  I  have  done 
nothing  from  love  of  Him.  Thee  hurrying  to  God  I  followed,  or 
rather  went  before.  For,  as  you  remembered  how  Lot's  wife  turned 
back,  you  first  delivered  me  to  God  bound  with  the  vow,  and  then 
yourself.  That  single  act  of  distrust,  I  confess,  grieved  me  and 
made  me  blush.  God  knows,  at  your  command  I  would  have 
followed  or  preceded  you  to  fiery  places.  For  my  heart  is  not  with 
me,  but  with  thee ;  and  now  more  than  ever,  if  not  with  thee  it  is 
nowhere,  for  it  cannot  exist  without  thee.  That  my  heart  may  be 
well  with  thee,  see  to  it,  I  beg ;  and  it  will  be  well  if  it  finds  thee 
kind,  rendering  grace  for  grace — a  little  for  much.  Beloved,  would 
that  thy  love  were  less  sure  of  me  so  that  it  might  be  more 
solicitous ;  I  have  made  you  so  secure  that  you  are  negligent. 
Remember  all  I  have  done  and  think  what  you  owe.  While  I 
enjoyed  carnal  joy  with  you,  many  people  were  uncertain  whether  I 
acted  from  love  or  lust.  Now  the  end  makes  clear  the  beginning ; 
I  have  cut  myself  off  from  pleasure  to  obey  thy  will.  I  have  kept 
nothing,  save  to  be  more  than  ever  thine.  Think  how  wicked  it 
were  in  thee  where  all  the  more  is  due  to  render  less,  nothing 
almost ;  especially  when  little  is  asked,  and  that  so  easy  for  you. 
In  the  name  of  God  to  whom  you  have  vowed  yourself,  give  me 
that  of  thee  which  is  possible,  the  consolation  of  a  letter.  I  promise, 
thus  refreshed,  to  serve  God  more  readily.  When  of  old  you  would 
call  me  to  pleasures,  you  sought  me  with  frequent  letters,  and  never 


CHAP,  xxv         THE   HEART  OF   HELOISE  15 

failed  with  thy  songs  to  keep  thy  Heloise  on  every  tongue;  the 
streets,  the  houses  re-echoed  me.  How  much  fitter  that  you  should 
now  incite  me  to  God  than  then  to  lust  ?  Bethink  thee  what  thou 
owest ;  heed  what  I  ask ;  and  a  long  letter  I  will  conclude  with  a 
brief  ending  :  farewell  only  one  ! " 

Remarks  upon  this  letter  would  seem  to  profane  a  shrine 
— had  the  man  profaned  that  shrine?  He  had  not  always 
worshipped  there.  Heloise  knew  this,  for  all  her  love.  She 
said  it  too,  writing  in  phraseology  which  had  been  brutalized 
through  the  denouncing  spirit  of  Latin  monasticism.  How 
truly  she  puts  the  situation  and  how  clearly  she  thinks 
withal,  discerning  as  it  were  the  beautiful  and  true  in  love 
and  marriage.  The  whole  letter  is  well  arranged,  and  written 
in  a  style  showing  the  writer's  training  in  Latin  mediaeval 
rhetoric.  It  was  not  the  less  deeply  felt  because  composed 
with  care  and  skill.  Evidently  the  writer  is  of  the  Middle 
Ages  ;  her  occasional  prolixity  was  not  of  her  sex  but  of 
her  time  ;  and  she  quotes  the  ancients  so  naturally  ;  what 
they  say  should  be  convincing.  How  the  letter  bares  the 
motives  of  her  own  conduct :  not  for  God's  sake,  or  the 
kingdom  of  heaven's  sake,  but  for  Abaelard's  sake  she 
became  a  nun.  She  had  no  inclination  thereto  ;  her  letters 
do  not  indicate  that  she  ever  became  really  and  spontaneously 
devoted  to  her  calling.  Abaelard  was  her  God,  and  as  her 
God  she  held  him  to  the  end  ;  though  she  applied  herself 
to  the  consideration  of  religious  topics,  as  we  shall  see. 
Moreover,  her  position  as  nun  and  abbess  could  not  fail  to 
force  such  topics  on  her  consideration. 

Is  there  another  such  love-letter,  setting  forth  a  situation 
so  triple-barred  and  hopeless  ?  And  the  love  which  fills  the 
letter,  which  throbs  and  burns  in  it,  which  speaks  and  argues 
in  it,  how  absolute  is  this  love.  It  is  love  carried  out  to  its 
full  conclusions  ;  it  includes  the  whole  woman  and  the  whole 
of  her  life  ;  whatever  lies  beyond  its  ken  and  care  is  scorned 
and  rejected.  This  love  is  extreme  in  its  humility,  and  yet 
realizes  its  own  purity  and  worth ;  it  is  grieved  at  the 
thought  of  rousing  a  feeling  baser  than  itself.  Heloi'se  had 
been  and  still  was  Heloise,  devoted  and  self-sacrificing  in 
her  love.  But  the  situation  has  become  torture ;  her  heart 
is  filled  with  all  manner  of  pain,  old  and  new,  till  it  is  driven 


16  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  iv 

to  assert  its  right  at  least  to  consolation.  Thus  Helolse's 
love  becomes  insistent  and  requiring.  Was  it  possibly 
burdensome  to  the  man  who  now  might  wish  to  think  no 
more  of  passion  ?  who  might  wish  no  longer  to  be  loved  in 
that  way?  In  his  reply  Abaelard  does  not  unveil  himself; 
he  seems  to  take  an  attitude  which  may  have  been  the  most 
faithful  expression  that  he  could  devise  of  his  changed  self. 

"To  Heloise  his  beloved  sister  in  Christ,  Abaelard  her  brother 
in  the  Same." 

This  superscription  was  a  gentle  reminder  of  their  present 
relationship — in  Christ  The  writer  begins  :  his  not  having 
written  since  their  conversion  was  to  be  ascribed  not  to  his 
negligence,  but  to  his  confidence  in  her  wisdom  ;  he  did  not 
think  that  she  who,  so  full  of  grace,  had  consoled  her  sister 
nuns  when  prioress,  could  as  abbess  need  teaching  or 
exhortation  for  the  guidance  of  her  daughters  ;  but  if,  in 
her  humility,  she  felt  the  need  of  his  instruction  in  matters 
pertaining  to  God,  she  might  write,  and  he  would  answer, 
as  the  Lord  should  grant.  Thanks  be  to  God  who  had 
filled  their  hearts — hers  and  her  nuns — with  solicitude  for 
his  perils,  and  had  made  them  participators  in  his  afflictions  ; 
through  their  prayers  the  divine  pity  had  protected  him. 
He  had  hastened  to  send  the  Psalter,  requested  by  his  sister, 
formerly  dear  to  him  in  the  world  and  now  most  dear  in 
Christ,  to  assist  their  prayers.  The  potency  of  prayer,  with 
God  and  the  saints,  and  especially  the  prayer  of  women  for 
those  dear  to  them,  is  frequently  declared  in  Scripture  ;  he 
cites  a  number  of  passages  to  prove  it.  May  these  move 
her  to  pray  for  him.  He  refers  with  affectionate  gratitude 
to  the  prayers  which  the  nuns  had  been  offering  for  him, 
and  encloses  a  short  prayer  for  his  safety,  which  he  begs  and 
implores  may  be  used  in  their  daily  canonical  hours.  If  the 
Lord,  however,  delivers  him  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies 
to  kill  him,  or  if  he  meet  his  death  in  any  way,  he  begs  that 
his  body  may  be  brought  to  the  Paraclete  for  burial,  so  that 
the  sight  of  his  sepulchre  may  move  his  daughters  and 
sisters  in  Christ  to  pray  for  him  ;  no  place  could  be  so  safe 
and  salutary  for  the  soul  of  one  bitterly  repenting  of  his  sins, 
as  that  consecrated  to  the  true  Paraclete — the  Comforter ; 


CHAP,  xxv         THE  HEART  OF  HELOISE  17 

nor  could  fitter  Christian  burial  be  found  than  among  women 
devoted  by  their  vows  to  Christ.  He  begs  that  the  great 
solicitude  which  they  now  have  for  his  bodily  safety,  they 
will  then  have  for  the  salvation  of  his  soul,  and  by  the 
suffrage  of  their  prayer  for  the  dead  man  show  how  they 
had  loved  him  when  alive.  The  letter  closes,  not  with  a 
personal  word  to  Heloi'se,  but  with  this  distich  : 

"  Vive,  vale,  vivantque  tuae  valeantque  sorores, 
Vivite,  sed  Christo,  quaeso,  mei  memores." 

Thus  as  against  Helolse's  beseeching  love,  Abaelard 
lifted  his  hands,  palms  out,  repelling  it.  His  letter  ignored 
all  that  filled  the  soul  and  the  letter  of  Heloifse.  His  reply 
did  not  lack  words  of  spiritual  affection,  and  its  tone  was 
not  as  formal  then  as  it  now  seems.  When  Abaelard  asked 
for  the  prayers  of  HeloYse  and  her  nuns,  he  meant  it ;  he 
desired  the  efficacy  of  their  prayers.  Then  he  wished  to  be 
buried  among  them.  We  are  touched  by  this  ;  but,  again, 
Abaelard  meant  it,  as  he  said,  for  his  soul's  welfare ;  it  was 
no  love  sentiment.  The  letter  stirred  the  heart  of  Heloifse 
to  a  rebellious  outcry  against  the  cruelty  of  God,  if  not  of 
Abaelard,  a  soul's  cry  against  life  and  the  calm  attitude  of 
one  who  no  longer  was — or  at  least  meant  to  be  no  longer 
— what  he  had  been  to  her. 

"  To  her  only  one,  next  to  Christ,  his  only  one  in  Christ. 

"  I  wonder,  my  only  one,  that  contrary  to  epistolary  custom  and 
the  natural  order  of  things,  in  the  salutation  of  your  letter  you  have 
placed  me  before  you,  a  woman  before  a  man,  a  wife  before  a 
husband,  a  servant  before  her  lord,  a  nun  before  a  monk  and  priest, 
a  deaconess  before  an  abbot.  The  proper  order  is  for  one  writing 
to  a  superior  to  put  his  own  name  last,  but  when  writing  to  an 
inferior,  the  writer's  name  should  precede.  We  also  marvelled,  that 
where  you  should  have  afforded  us  consolation,  you  added  to  our 
desolation,  and  excited  the  tears  you  should  have  quieted.  How 
could  we  restrain  our  tears  when  reading  what  you  wrote  towards 
the  end  :  '  If  the  Lord  shall  deliver  me  into  the  hand  of  my  enemies 
to  slay  me ' !  Dearest,  how  couldst  thou  think  or  say  that  ?  May 
God  never  forget  His  handmaids,  to  leave  them  living  when  you  are 
no  more !  May  He  never  allot  to  us  that  life,  which  would  be 
harder  than  any  death  !  It  is  for  you  to  perform  our  obsequies  and 
commend  our  souls  to  God,  and  send  before  to  God  those  whom 
you  have  gathered  for  Him — that  you  may  have  no  further  anxiety, 
and  follow  us  the  more  gladly  because  assured  of  our  safety. 
VOL.  II  C 


18  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  iv 

Refrain,  my  lord,  I  beg,  from  making  the  miserable  most  miserable 
with  such  words ;  destroy  not  our  life  before  we  die.  '  Sufficient 
unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof — and  that  day  will  come  to  all  with 
bitterness  enough.  '  What  need,'  says  Seneca,  '  to  add  to  evil,  and 
destroy  life  before  death  ? ' 

"  Thou  askest,  only  one,  that,  in  the  event  of  thy  death  when 
absent  from  us,  we  should  have  thy  body  brought  to  our  cemetery, 
in  order  that,  being  always  in  our  memory,  thou  shouldst  obtain 
greater  benefit  from  our  prayers.  Did  you  think  that  your  memory 
could  slip  from  us?  How  could  we  pray,  with  distracted  minds? 
What  use  of  tongue  or  reason  would  be  left  to  us?  When  the 
mind  is  crazed  against  God  it  will  not  placate  Him  with  prayer 
so  much  as  irritate  Him  with  complaints.  We  could  only  weep, 
pressing  to  follow  rather  than  bury  you.  How  could  we  live  after 
we  had  lost  our  life  in  you  ?  The  thought  of  your  death  is  death 
to  us ;  what  would  be  the  actuality  ?  God  grant  we  shall  not  have 
to  pay  those  rites  to  one  from  whom  we  look  for  them ;  may  we  go 
before  and  not  follow  !  A  heart  crushed  with  grief  is  not  calm,  nor 
is  a  mind  tossed  by  troubles  open  to  God.  Do  not,  I  beg,  hinder 
the  divine  service  to  which  we  are  dedicated, 

"  What  remains  of  hope  for  me  when  thou  art  gone  ?  Or  what 
reason  to  continue  in  this  pilgrimage,  where  I  have  no  solace  save 
thee  ?  and  of  thee  I  have  but  the  bare  knowledge  that  thou  dost  live, 
since  thy  restoring  presence  is  not  granted  me.  Oh  ! — if  it  is  right 
to  say  it — how  cruel  has  God  been  to  me  !  Inclement  Clemency  ! 
Fortune  has  emptied  her  quiver  against  me,  so  that  others  have 
nothing  to  fear !  If  indeed  a  single  dart  were  left,  no  place  could 
be  found  in  me  for  a  new  wound.  Fortune  fears  only  lest  I  escape 
her  tortures  by  death.  Wretched  and  unhappy  !  in  thee  I  was  lifted 
above  all  women ;  in  thee  am  I  the  more  fatally  thrown  down. 
What  glory  did  I  have  in  thee !  what  ruin  have  I  now !  Fortune 
made  me  the  happiest  of  women  that  she  might  make  me  the  most 
miserable.  The  injury  was  the  more  outrageous  in  that  all  ways  of 
right  were  broken.  While  we  were  abandoned  to  love's  delights,  the 
divine  severity  spared  us.  When  we  made  the  forbidden  lawful  and 
by  marriage  wiped  out  fornication's  stains,  the  Lord's  wrath  broke  on 
us,  impatient  of  an  unsullied  bed  when  it  long  had  borne  with  one 
defiled.  A  man  taken  in  adultery  would  have  been  amply  punished 
by  what  came  to  you.  What  others  deserved  for  adultery,  that 
you  got  from  the  marriage  which  you  thought  had  made  amends  for 
everything.  Adulteresses  bring  their  paramours  what  your  own  wife 
brought  you.  Not  when  we  lived  for  pleasure,  but  when,  separated, 
we  lived  in  chastity,  you  presiding  at  the  Paris  schools,  I  at  thy 
command  dwelling  with  the  nuns  at  Argenteuil ;  you  devoted  to 
study,  I  to  prayer  and  holy  reading ;  it  was  then  that  you  alone 
paid  the  penalty  for  what  we  had  done  together.  Alone  you  bore 


CHAP,  xxv         THE   HEART  OF  HELOlSE  19 

the  punishment,  which  you  deserved  less  than  I.  When  you  had 
humiliated  yourself  and  elevated  me  and  all  my  kin,  you  little 
merited  that  punishment  either  from  God  or  from  those  traitors. 
Miserable  me,  begotten  to  cause  such  a  crime !  O  womankind  ever 
the  ruin  of  the  noblest  men  ! 1 

"  Well  the  Tempter  knows  how  easy  is  man's  overthrow  through 
a  wife.  He  cast  his  malice  over  us,  and  the  man  whom  he  could 
not  throw  down  through  fornication,  he  tried  with  marriage, 
using  a  good  to  bring  about  an  evil  where  evil  means  had  failed. 
I  thank  God  at  least  for  this,  that  the  Tempter  did  not  draw 
me  to  assent  to  that  which  became  the  cause  of  the  evil  deed. 
Yet,  although  in  this  my  mind  absolves  me,  too  many  sins  had  gone 
before  to  leave  me  guiltless  of  that  crime.  For  long  a  servant  of 
forbidden  joys,  I  earned  the  punishment  which  I  now  suffer  of 
past  sins.  Let  the  evil  end  be  attributed  to  ill  beginnings  !  May 
my  penitence  be  meet  for  what  I  have  done,  and  may  long  remorse 
in  some  way  compensate  for  the  penalty  you  suffered !  What  once 
you  suffered  in  the  body,  may  I  through  contrition  bear  to  the  end 
of  life,  that  so  I  may  make  satisfaction  to  thee  if  not  to  God.  To 
confess  the  infirmities  of  my  most  wretched  soul,  I  can  find  no 
penitence  to  offer  God,  whom  I  never  cease  to  accuse  of  utter 
cruelty  towards  you.  Rebellious  to  His  rule,  I  offend  Him  with 
indignation  more  than  I  placate  Him  with  penitence.  For  that 
cannot  be  called  the  sinner's  penitence  where,  whatever  be  the  body's 
suffering,  the  mind  retains  the  will  to  sin  and  still  burns  with  the 
same  desires.  It  is  easy  in  confession  to  accuse  oneself  of  sins, 
and  also  to  do  penance  with  the  body ;  but  hard  indeed  to  turn  the 
heart  from  the  desire  of  its  greatest  joys  ! 2  Love's  pleasures,  which 
we  knew  together,  cannot  be  made  displeasing  to  me  nor  driven 
from  my  memory.  Wherever  I  turn,  they  press  upon  me,  nor  do 
they  spare  my  dreams.  Even  in  the  solemn  moments  of  the  Mass, 
when  prayer  should  be  the  purest,  their  phantoms  catch  my  soul. 
When  I  should  groan  for  what  I  have  done,  I  sigh  for  what  I  have 
lost.  Not  only  our  acts,  but  times  and  places  stick  fast  in  my  mind, 
and  my  body  quivers.  O  truly  wretched  me,  fit  only  to  utter  this 
cry  of  the  soul :  '  Wretched  that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the 
body  of  this  death  ? '  Would  I  could  add  with  truth  what  follows  : — 
*  I  thank  God  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.'  Such  thanksgiving, 
dearest,  may  be  thine,  by  one  bodily  ill  cured  of  many  tortures  of 
the  soul,  and  God  may  have  been  merciful  where  He  seemed 
against  you ;  like  a  good  physician  who  does  not  spare  the  pain 
needed  to  save  life.  But  I  am  tortured  with  passion  and  the  fires 
of  memory.  They  call  me  chaste,  who  do  not  know  me  for  a 

1  Heloise  here  in  mediaeval  fashion  cites  a  number  of  examples  from  Scripture 
showing  the  ills  and  troubles  brought  by  women  to  men. 

2  Again  she  quotes  to  prove  this,  from  Job  and  St.  Gregory  and  Ambrose. 


20  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  iv 

hypocrite.  They  look  upon  purity  of  the  flesh  as  virtue — which  is 
of  the  soul,  not  of  the  body.  Having  some  praise  from  men,  I  merit 
none  from  God,  who  knows  the  heart.  I  am  called  religious  at  a 
time  when  most  religion  is  hypocrisy,  and  when  whoever  keeps  from 
offence  against  human  law  is  praised.  Perhaps  it  seems  praise- 
worthy and  acceptable  to  God,  through  decent  conduct, — whatever 
the  intent — to  avoid  scandalizing  the  Church  or  causing  the  Lord's 
name  to  be  blasphemed  or  the  religious  Order  discredited.  Perhaps 
it  may  be  of  grace  just  to  abstain  from  evil.  But  the  Scripture  says, 
'  Refrain  from  evil  and  do  good ' ;  and  vainly  he  attempts  either  who 
does  not  act  from  love  of  God.  God  knows  that  I  have  always 
feared  to  offend  thee  more  than  I  feared  to  offend  Him ;  and  have 
desired  to  please  thee  rather  than  Him.  Thy  command,  not  the 
divine  love,  put  on  me  this  garb  of  religion.  What  a  wretched  life 
I  lead  if  I  vainly  endure  all  this  here  and  am  to  have  no  reward 
hereafter.  My  hypocrisy  has  long  deceived  you,  as  it  has  others, 
and  therefore  you  desire  my  prayers.  Have  no  such  confidence ;  I 
need  your  prayers ;  do  not  withdraw  their  aid.  Do  not  take  away 
the  medicine,  thinking  me  whole.  Do  not  cease  to  think  me  needy  ; 
do  not  think  me  strong;  do  not  delay  your  help.  Cease  from 
praising  me,  I  beg.  No  one  versed  in  medicine  will  judge  of  inner 
disease  from  outward  view.  Thy  praise  is  the  more  perilous  because 
I  love  it,  and  desire  to  please  thee  always.  Be  fearful  rather  than 
confident  regarding  me,  so  that  I  may  have  the  help  of  your  care. 
Do  not  seek  to  spur  me  on,  by  quoting,  '  For  strength  is  made 
perfect  in  weakness,'  or  '  He  is  not  crowned  unless  he  have  contended 
lawfully.'  I  am  not  looking  for  the  crown  of  victory ;  enough  for 
me  to  escape  peril ; — safer  to  shun  peril  than  to  wage  war !  In 
whatever  little  corner  of  heaven  God  puts  me,  that  will  satisfy  me. 
Hear  what  Saint  Jerome  says :  '  I  confess  my  weakness ;  I  do  not 
wish  to  fight  for  the  hope  of  victory,  lest  I  lose.'  Why  give  up 
certainties  to  follow  the  uncertain  ?  " 

This  letter  gives  a  view  of  Helctfse's  mind,  its  strong 
grasp  and  its  capacity  for  reasoning,  though  its  reasoning  is 
here  distraught  with  passion.  Scathingly,  half-blinded  by 
her  pain,  she  declares  the  perversities  of  Providence,  as  they 
glared  upon  her.  Such  a  disclosure  of  the  woman's  mind 
suggests  how  broadly  based  in  thought  and  largely  reared  was 
that  great  love  into  which  her  whole  soul  had  been  poured, 
the  mind  as  well  as  heart.  Her  love  was  great,  unique,  not 
only  from  its  force  of  feeling,  but  from  the  power  and  scope 
of  thought  by  which  passion  and  feeling  were  carried  out  so 
far  and  fully  to  the  last  conclusions  of  devotion.  The  letter 
also  shows  a  woman  driven  by  stress  of  misery  to  utter  cries 


CHAP,  xxv         THE  HEART  OF  HELOISE  21 

and  clutch  at  remedies  that  her  calmer  self  would  have  put 
by.  It  is  not  hypocrisy  to  conceal  the  desires  or  imaginings 
which  one  would '  never  act  upon.  To  tell  these  is  not  true 
disclosure  of  oneself,  but  slander.  Torn  by  pain,  Helo'fse 
makes  herself  more  vile  and  needy  than  in  other  moments 
she  knew  herself  to  be.  Yet  the  letter  also  uncovers  her, 
and  in  nakedness  there  is  some  truth.  Doubtless  her  nun's 
garb  did  clothe  a  hypocrite.  Whatever  she  felt — and  here 
we  see  the  worst  she  felt — before  the  world  she  had  to  act 
the  nun.  We  shall  soon  see  how  she  forced  herself  to  act, 
or  be,  the  nun  toward  Abaelard. 

Abaelard  replied  in  a  letter  filled  with  religious  argument 
and  consolation.  It  was  self-controlled,  firm,  authoritative, 
and  strong  in  those  arguments  regarding  God's  mercy  which 
have  stood  the  test  of  time.  If  they  sometimes  fail  to  satisfy 
the  embittered  soul,  at  least  they  are  the  best  that  man 
has  known.  And  withal,  the  letter  is  calmly  and  nobly 
affectionate — what  place  was  there  for  love's  protestations  ? 
They  would  have  increased  the  evil,  adding  fuel  to  Heloise's 
passionate  misery. 

The  master-note  is  struck  in  the  address :  "  To  the 
spouse  of  Christ,  His  servant."  The  letter  seeks  to  turn 
Helo'fse's  thoughts  to  her  nun's  calling  and  her  soul's  salva- 
tion. It  divides  her  expressions  of  complaint  under  four 
heads.  First,  he  had  put  her  name  first,  because  she  had 
become  his  superior  from  the  moment  of  her  bridal  with  his 
master  Christ.  Jerome  writing  to  Eustochium  called  her 
Lady,  when  she  had  become  the  spouse  of  Jerome's  Lord. 
Abaelard  shows,  with  citations  from  the  Song  of  Songs,  the 
glory  of  the  spouse,  and  how  her  prayers  should  be  sought 
by  one  who  was  the  servant  of  her  Husband.  Second,  as  to 
the  terrors  roused  in  her  by  his  mention  of  his  peril  and 
possible  death,  he  points  out  that  in  her  first  letter  she  had 
bidden  him  write  of  those  perils  ;  if  they  brought  him  death, 
she  should  deem  that  a  kind  release.  She  should  not  wish 
to  see  his  miseries  drawn  out,  even  for  her  sake.  Third,  he 
shows  that  his  praise  of  her  was  justified  even  by  her  dis- 
claimer of  merit — as  it  is  written,  Who  humbles  himself  shall 
be  exalted.  He  warns  her  against  false  modesty  which  may 
be  vanity. 


22  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  iv 

He  turns  at  last  to  the  old  and  ceaseless  plaint  which 
she  makes  against  God  .for  cruelty,  when  she  should  rather 
glorify  Him  ;  he  had  thought  that  that  bitterness  had 
departed,  so  dangerous  for  her,  so  painful  to  him.  If  she 
wished  to  please  him,  let  her  lay  it  aside  ;  retaining  it,  she 
could  not  please  him  or  advance  with  him  to  blessedness  ;  let 
her  have  this  much  religion,  not  to  separate  herself  from  him 
hastening  to  God  ;  let  her  take  comfort  in  their  journeying  to 
the  same  goal.  He  then  shows  her  that  his  punishment 
was  just  as  well  as  merciful  ;  he  had  deserved  it  from  God 
and  also  from  Fulbert.  If  she  will  consider,  she  will  see  in  it 
God's  justice  and  His  mercy  ;  God  had  saved  them  from  ship- 
wreck ;  had  raised  a  barrier  against  shame  and  lust  For 
himself  the  punishment  was  purification,  not  privation  ;  will 
not  she,  as  his  inseparable  comrade,  participate  in  the  work- 
ings of  this  grace,  even  as  she  shared  the  guilt  and  its 
pardon  ?  Once  he  had  thought  of  binding  her  to  him  in 
wedlock  ;  but  God  found  a  means  to  turn  them  both  to  Him  ; 
and  the  Lord  was  continuing  His  mercy  towards  her,  causing 
her  to  bring  forth  spiritual  daughters,  when  otherwise  she 
would  only  have  borne  children  in  the  flesh  ;  in  her  the  curse 
of  Eve  is  turned  to  the  blessing  of  Mary.  God  had  purified 
them  both  ;  whom  God  loveth  He  correcteth.  Oh  !  let  her 
thoughts  dwell  with  the  Son  of  God,  seized,  dragged,  beaten, 
spit  upon,  crowned  with  thorns,  hung  on  a  vile  cross.  Let 
her  think  of  Him  as  her  spouse,  and  for  Him  let  her  make 
lament ;  He  bought  her  with  himself,  He  loved  her.  In 
comparison  with  His  love,  his  own  (Abaelard's)  was  lust, 
seeking  the  pleasure  it  could  get  from  her.  If  he,  Abaelard, 
had  suffered  for  her,  it  was  not  willingly  nor  for  her  sake,  as 
Christ  had  suffered,  and  for  her  salvation.  Let  her  weep  for 
Him  who  made  her  whole,  not  for .  her  corrupter ;  for  her 
Redeemer,  not  for  her  defiler  ;  for  the  Lord  who  died  for  her, 
not  for  the  living  servant,  himself  just  freed  from  the  death. 
Let  his  sister  accept  with  patience  what  came  to  her  in  mercy 
from  Him  who  wounded  the  body  to  save  the  soul. 

"We  are  one  in  Christ,  as  through  marriage  we  were  one  flesh. 
Whatever  is  thine  is  not  alien  to  me.  Christ  is  thine,  because  thou 
art  His  spouse.  And  now  thou  hast  me  for  a  servant,  who  formerly 
was  thy  master — a  servant  united  to  thee  by  spiritual  love.  I  trust 


CHAP,  xxv         THE   HEART  OF  HELOlSE  23 

in  thy  pleading  with  Him  for  such  defence  as  my  own  prayers  may 
not  obtain.  That  nothing  may  hinder  this  petition  I  have  composed 
this  prayer,  which  I  send  thee :  '  O  God,  who  formed  woman  from 
the  side  of  man  and  didst  sanction  the  sacrament  of  marriage ;  who 
didst  bestow  upon  my  frailty  a  cure  for  its  incontinence ;  do  not 
despise  the  prayers  of  thy  handmaid,  and  the  prayers  which  I  pour 
out  for  my  sins  and  those  of  my  dear  one.  Pardon  our  great  crimes, 
and  may  the  enormity  of  our  faults  find  the  greatness  of  thy  ineffable 
mercy.  Punish  the  culprits  in  the  present ;  spare,  in  the  future. 
Thou  hast  joined  us,  Lord,  and  hast  divided  us,  as  it  pleased  thee. 
Now  complete  most  mercifully  what  thou  hast  begun  in  mercy ; 
and  those  whom  thou  hast  divided  in  this  world,  join  eternally  in 
heaven,  thou  who  art  our  hope,  our  portion,  our  expectation,  our 
consolation,  Lord  blessed  forever.  Amen.' 

"  Farewell  in  Christ,  spouse  of  Christ ;  in  Christ  farewell  and  in 
Christ  liva  Amen." 

In  her  next  letter  Heloi'se  obeys,  and  turns  her  pen  if 
not  her  thoughts  to  the  topics  suggested  by  Abaelard's 
admonitions.  The  short  scholastically  phrased  address 
cannot  be  rendered  in  any  modern  fashion :  "  Domino 
specialiter  sua  singulariter." 

"  That  you  may  have  no  further  reason  to  call  me  disobedient, 
your  command  shall  bridle  the  words  of  unrestrained  grief;  in 
writing  I  will  moderate  my  language,  which  I  might  be  unable  to 
do  in  speech.  Nothing  is  less  in  our  power  than  our  heart ;  which 
compels  us  to  obey  more  often  than  it  obeys  us.  When  our 
affections  goad  us,  we  cannot  keep  the  sudden  impulse  from 
breaking  out  in  words  ;  as  it  is  written,  '  From  the  fulness  of  the  heart 
the  mouth  speaketh.'  So  I  will  withhold  my  hand  from  writing 
whenever  I  am  unable  to  control  my  words.  Would  that  the 
sorrowing  heart  were  as  ready  to  obey  as  the  hand  that  writes  ! 
You  can  afford  some  remedy  to  grief,  even  when  unable  to  dispel 
it  quite.  As  one  nail  driven  in  drives  out  another,  a  new  thought 
pushes  away  its  predecessor,  and  the  mind  is  freed  for  a  time.  A 
thought,  moreover,  takes  the  mind  up  and  leads  it  from  others  more 
effectually,  if  the  subject  of  the  thought  is  excellent  and  of  great 
importance." 

The  rest  of  this  long  letter  shows  Helolse  putting  her 
principles  in  practice.  She  is  forcing  her  mind  to  consider 
and  her  pen  to  discourse  upon  topics  which  might  properly 
occupy  an  abbess's  thoughts  —  topics,  moreover,  which 
would  satisfy  Abaelard  and  call  forth  long  letters  in  reply. 
Whether  she  cared  really  for  these  matters  or  ever  came 


24  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  iv 

to  care  for  them  ;  or  whether  she  turned  to  them  to  distract 
her  mind  and  keep  up  some  poor  makeshift  of  intercourse 
with  one  who  would  and  could  no  longer  be  her  lover  ;  or 
whether  all  these  motives  mingled,  and  in  what  proportion, 
perhaps  may  best  be  left  to  Him  who  tries  the  heart. 
The  abbess  writes : 

"All  of  us  here,  servants  of  Christ  and  thy  daughters,  make 
two  requests  of  thy  fathership  which  we  deem  most  needful.  The 
one  is,  that  you  would  instruct  us  concerning  the  origins  of  the 
order  of  nuns  and  the  authority  for  our  calling.  The  other  is,  that 
you  would  draw  up  a  written  regula,  suitable  for  women,  which  shall 
prescribe  and  set  the  order  and  usages  of  our  convent  We  do  not 
find  any  adequate  regula  for  women  among  the  works  of  the  holy 
Fathers.  It  is  a  manifest  defect  in  monastic  institutions  that  the 
same  rules  should  be  imposed  upon  both  monks  and  nuns,  and 
that  the  weaker  sex  should  bear  the  same  monastic  yoke  as  the 
stronger." 

Heloi'se,  having  set  this  task  for  Abaelard,  proceeds  to 
show  how  the  various  monastic  regulae^  from  Benedict's 
downward,  failed  to  make  suitable  provision  for  the  habits 
and  requirements  and  weaknesses  of  women,  the  regidae 
hitherto  having  been  concerned  with  the  weaknesses  of  men. 
She  enters  upon  matters  of  clothing  and  diet,  and  every- 
thing concerning  the  lives  of  nuns.  She  writes  as  one 
learned  in  Scripture  and  the  writings  of  the  Fathers,  and 
sets  the  whole  matter  forth,  in  its  details,  with  admirable 
understanding  of  its  intricacies.  She  concludes,  reminding 
Abaelard  that  it  is  for  him  in  his  lifetime  to  set  a  regula 
for  them  to  follow  forever ;  after  God,  he  is  their  founder. 
They  might  thereafter  have  some  teacher  who  would  build 
in  alien  fashion  ;  such  a  one  might  have  less  care  and 
understanding,  and  might  not  be  as  readily  obeyed  as 
himself;  it  is  for  him  to  speak,  and  they  will  listen.  Vale. 

The  first  of  Helo'fse's  letters  is  a  great  expression  of  a 
great  love ;  in  the  second,  anguish  drives  the  writer's  hand  ; 
in  the  third,  she  has  gained  self-control  ;  she  suppresses  her 
heart,  and  writes  a  letter  which  is  discursive  and  impersonal 
from  the  beginning  to  the  little  Vale  at  the  end. 

Abaelard  returned  a  long  epistle  upon  the  Scriptural 
origin  of  the  order  of  nuns,  and  soon  followed  it  with 
another,  still  longer,  containing  instruction,  advice,  and  rules 


CHAP,  xxv         THE   HEART  OF  HELOISE  25 

for  the  nuns  of  the  Paraclete.  He  also  wrote  them  a  letter 
upon  the  study  of  Scripture.  From  this  time  forth  he 
proved  his  devotion  to  Helo'fse  and  her  nuns  by  the  large 
body  of  writings  which  he  composed  for  their  edification. 
Helofse  sent  him  a  long  list  of  questions  upon  obscure 
phrases  and  knotty  points  of  Scripture,  which  he  answered 
diligently  in  detail.1  He  then  sent  her  a  collection  of 
hymns  written  or  "  rearranged  "  by  himself  for  the  use  of 
the  nuns,  accompanied  by  a  prefatory  letter :  "  At  thy 
prayers,  my  sister  Helo'fse,  once  dear  to  me  in  the  world, 
now  most  dear  in  Christ,  I  have  composed  what  in  Greek 
are  called  hymns,  and  in  Hebrew  tillitn."  He  then  explains 
why,  yielding  to  the  requests  of  the  nuns,  he  had  written 
hymns,  of  which  the  Church  had  such  a  store. 

Next  he  composed  for  them  a  large  volume  of  sermons, 
which  he  also  sent  with  a  letter  to  Helo'fse :  "  Having 
completed  the  book  of  hymns  and  sequences,  revered  in 
Christ  and  loved  sister  Helo'fse,  I  have  hastened  to  compose 
some  sermons  for  your  congregation  ;  I  have  paid  more 
attention  to  the  meaning  than  the  language.  But  perhaps 
an  unstudied  style  is  well  suited  to  simple  auditors.  In 
composing  and  arranging  these  sermons  I  have  followed  the 
order  of  Church  festivals.  Farewell  in  the  Lord,  servant 
of  His,  once  dear  to  me  in  the  world,  now  most  dear  in 
Christ :  in  the  flesh  then  my  wife,  now  my  sister  in  the 
spirit  and  partner  in  our  sacred  calling." 

At  a  subsequent  period,  when  his  opinions  were  con- 
demned by  the  Council  of  Sens,  he  sent  to  Helo'fse  a 
confession  of  faith.  Shortly  afterward  his  stormy  life 
found  a  last  refuge  in  the  monastery  of  Cluny.  His  closing 
years  (of  peace  ?)  are  described  in  a  letter  to  Helo'fse  from 
the  good  and  revered  abbot,  Peter  the  Venerable.  He 
writes  that  he  had  received  with  joy  the  letter  which  her 
affection  had  dictated,2  and  now  took  the  first  opportunity 
to  express  his  recognition  of  her  affection  and  his  reverence 
for  herself.  He  refers  to  her  keenly  prosecuted  studies 

1  Heloise's  last  problems,  did  not  relate  to  Scripture,  and  may  have  been 
suggested  by  her  own  life.      "  We  ask  whether  one  can  sin  in  doing  what  is 
permitted  or  commanded  by  the  Lord  ? "     Abaelard  answers  with  a  discussion 
of  what  is  permissible  between  man  and  wife. 

2  This  letter  of  Heloise  is  not  extant. 


26  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  iv 

(so  rare  for  women)  before  taking  the  veil,  and  then  to  the 
glorious  example  of  her  sage  and  holy  life  in  the  nun's 
sacred  calling — her  victory  over  the  proud  Prince  of  this 
World.  His  admiration  for  her  was  deep  ;  his  expression 
of  it  was  extreme.  A  learned,  wise,  and  holy  woman  could 
not  be  praised  more  ardently  than  Helofse  is  praised  by  this 
good  man.  He  had  spoken  of  the  advantages  his  monastery 
would  have  derived  from  her  presence,  and  then  continued  : 

"  But  although  God's  providence  denied  us  this,  it  was  granted 
us  to  enjoy  the  presence  of  him — who  was  yours — Master  Peter 
Abaelard,  a  man  always  to  be  spoken  of  with  honour  as  a  true  servant 
of  Christ  and  a  philosopher.  The  divine  dispensation  placed  him 
in  Cluny  for  his  last  years,  and  through  him  enriched  our  monastery 
with  treasure  richer  than  gold.  No  brief  writing  could  do  justice 
to  his  holy,  humble,  and  devoted  life  among  us.  I  have  not  seen 
his  equal  in  humility  of  garb  and  manner.  When  in  the  crowd  of 
our  brethren  I  forced  him  to  take  a  first  place,  in  meanness  of 
clothing  he  appeared  as  the  last  of  all.  Often  I  marvelled,  as  the 
monks  walked  past  me,  to  see  a  man  so  great  and  famous  thus 
despise  and  abase  himself.  He  was  abstemious  in  food  and  drink, 
refusing  and  condemning  everything  beyond  the  bare  necessities. 
He  was  assiduous  in  study,  frequent  in  prayer,  always  silent  unless 
compelled  to  answer  the  question  of  some  brother  or  expound  sacred 
themes  before  us.  He  partook  of  the  sacrament  as  often  as  possible. 
Truly  his  mind,  his  tongue,  his  act,  taught  and  exemplified  religion, 
philosophy,  and  learning.  So  he  dwelt  with  us,  a  man  simple  and 
righteous,  fearing  God,  turning  from  evil,  consecrating  to  God  the 
latter  days  of  his  life.  At  last,  because  of  his  bodily  infirmities,  I 
sent  him  to  a  quiet  and  salubrious  retreat  on  the  banks  of  the 
Saone.  There  he  bent  over  his  books,  as  long  as  his  strength 
lasted,  always  praying,  reading,  writing,  or  dictating.  In  these 
sacred  exercises,  not  sleeping  but  watching,  he  was  found  by  the 
heavenly  Visitor ;  who  summoned  him  to  the  eternal  wedding-feast 
not  as  a  foolish  but  as  a  wise  virgin,  bearing  his  lamp  filled  with 
oil — the  consciousness  of  a  holy  life.  When  he  came  to  pay 
humanity's  last  debt,  his  illness  was  brief.  With  holy  devotion  he 
made  confession  of  the  Catholic  Faith,  then  of  his  sins.  The 
brothers  who  were  with  him  can  testify  how  devoutly  he  received 
the  viaticum  of  that  last  journey,  and  with  what  fervent  faith  he 
commended  his  body  and  soul  to  his  Redeemer.  Thus  this  master, 
Peter,  completed  his  days.  He  who  was  known  throughout  the 
world  by  the  fame  of  his  teaching,  entered  the  school  of  Him  who 
said,  '  Learn  of  me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  of  heart ' ;  and  con- 
tinuing meek  and  lowly  he  passed  to  Him,  as  we  may  believe. 


CHAP,  xxv         THE  HEART  OF  HELOISE  27 

"  Venerable  and  dearest  sister  in  the  Lord,  the  man  who  was 
once  joined  to  thee  in  the  flesh,  and  then  by  the  stronger  chain  of 
divine  love,  him  in  thy  stead,  or  as  another  thee,  the  Lord  holds 
in  His  bosom  ;  and  at  the  day  of  His  coming,  His  grace  will  restore 
him  to  thee." 

The  abbot  afterwards  visited  the  Paraclete,  and  on 
returning  to  Cluny  received  this  letter  from  the  abbess  : 

"God's  mercy  visiting  us,  we  have  been  visited  by  the  favour  of 
your  graciousness.  We  are  glad,  kindest  father,  and  we  glory  that 
your  greatness  condescended  to  our  insignificance.  A  visit  from 
you  is  an  honour  even  to  the  great.  The  others  may  know  the  great 
benefit  they  received  from  the  presence  of  your  highness.  I  cannot 
tell  in  words,  or  even  comprehend  in  thought,  how  beneficial  and 
how  sweet  your  coming  was  to  me.  You,  our  abbot  and  our  lord, 
celebrated  mass  with  us  the  sixteenth  of  the  Calends  of  last 
December ;  you  commended  us  to  the  Ho}y  Spirit ;  you  nourished 
us  with  the  Divine  Word  ; — you  gave  us  the  body  of  the  master,  and 
confirmed  that  gift  from  Cluny.  To  me  also,  unworthy  to  be  your 
servant,  though  by  word  and  letter  you  have  called  me  sister,  you 
gave  as  a  pledge  of  sincere  love  the  privilege  of  a  Tricenarium,  to 
be  performed  by  the  brethren  of  Cluny,  after  my  death,  for  the 
benefit  of  my  soul.  You  have  promised  to  confirm  this  under  your 
seal.  May  you  fulfil  this,  my  lord.  Might  it  please  you  also  to 
send  to  me  that  other  sealed  roll,  containing  the  absolution  of  the 
master,  that  I  may  hang  it  on  his  tomb.  Remember  also,  for  the 
love  of  God,  our — and  your — Astralabius,  to  obtain  for  him  a 
prebend  from  the  bishop  of  Paris  or  another.  Farewell.  May  God 
preserve  you,  and  grant  to  us  sometime  your  presence." 

The  good  abbot  replied  with  a  kind  and  affectionate 
letter,  confirming  his  gift  of  the  Tricenarium,  promising  to 
do  all  he  could  for  Astralabius,  and  sending  with  his  letter 
the  record  of  Abaelard's  absolution,  as  follows  :| 

"  I,  Peter,  Abbot  of  Cluny,  who  received  Peter  Abaelard  to  be 
a  monk  in  Cluny,  and  granted  his  body,  secretly  transported,  to 
the  Abbess  Heloise  and  the  nuns  of  the  Paraclete,  absolve  him,  in 
the  performance  of  my  office  (pro  officio)  by  the  authority  of  the 
omnipotent  God  and  all  the  saints,  from  all  his  sins." 

Abaelard  died  in  the  year  1142,  aged  sixty-three. 
Twenty-one  years  afterward  Helo'fse  died  at  the  same  age, 
and  was  buried  in  the  same  tomb  with  him  at  the 
Paraclete  : 

"  Hoc  tumulo  abbatissa  jacet  prudens  Heloissa." 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

GERMAN   CONSIDERATIONS  :     WALTHER    VON    DER 
VOGELWEIDE 

A  CRITICISM  of  the  world  of  feudalism,  chivalry,  and  love 
may  be  had  from  the  impressions  and  temperamental  re- 
actions of  a  certain  thinking  atom  revolving  in  the  same. 
The  atom  referred  to  was  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide,  a 
German,  a  knight,  a  Minnesinger,  and  a  national  poet  whose 
thoughts  were  moved  by  the  instincts  of  his  caste  and  race. 

In  language,  temperament,  and  character,  the  Germans 
east  of  the  Rhine  were  Germans  still  in  the  thirteenth 
century.  They  had  accepted,  and  even  vitally  appropriated, 
Latin  Christianity  ;  those  of  them  who  were  educated  had 
received  a  Latin  education.  Yet  their  natures,  though 
somewhat  tempered,  showed  largely  and  distinctly  German. 
Moreover,  through  the  centuries,  they  had  acquired — or 
rather  they  had  never  lost — a  national  antipathy  toward 
those  Roman  papal  well-springs  of  authority,  which  seemed 
to  suck  back  German  gold  and  lands  in  return  for  spiritual 
assurance  and  political  betrayal. 

A  different  and  already  mediaevalized  element  had  also 
become  part  of  German  culture,  to  wit,  the  matter  of  the 
French  Arthurian  romances  and  the  lyric  fashions  of 
Provence,  which,  working  together,  had  captivated  modish 
German  circles  from  the  Rhine  to  the  Danube.  Neverthe- 
less the  German  character  maintained  itself  in  the  Minne- 
lieder  which  followed  Provencal  poetry,  and  in  the  hofisch 
(courtly)  epics  which  were  palpable  translations  from  the 
French.1  The  distinguished  group  of  German  poets  whose 

1  The    Tristan  of  Gottfried  von  Strassburg  and  the  Parzival  of  Wolfram 
von  Eschenbach  have  been   given.       One  may  also  refer  to  works  of  older 

28 


CHAP,  xxvi  THE  GERMAN  VIEW  29 

lives  fall  around  the  year  1200,  were  as  German  as  their 
language,  although  they  borrowed  from  abroad  the  form 
and  matter  of  their  compositions. 

There  could  be  no  better  Germans  than  the  two  most 
thoughtful  of  this  group,  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach  and 
Walther  von  der  Vogelweide.  Most  Germanically  the 
former  wrestled  with  that  ancient  theme,  "  from  suffering, 
wisdom,"  which  he  pressed  into  the  tale  of  Parzival.  His 
great  poem,  achieved  with  toil  and  sweat,  was  mighty  in 
its  climaxes,  and  fit  to  strengthen  the  hearts  of  those  men 
who  through  sorrow  and  loneliness  and  despair's  temptations 
were  growing  "  slowly  wise." 

The  virtues  which  Wolfram  praised  and  embodied  in  his 
hero  were  those  praised  in  the  verses,  and  even,  one  may 
think,  strugglingly  exemplified  in  the  conduct,  of  Walther  von 
der  Vogelweide,1  most  famous  of  Minnesingers,  and  a  power 
in  the  German  lands  through  his  Spruche,  or  verses  personal 
and  political.  Less  is  known  of  his  life  than  of  his  whole 
and  manly  views,  his  poetic  fancies,  his  musings,  his  hopes, 
and  great  depressions.  Many  places  have  claimed  the  honour 
of  his  birth,  which  took  place  somewhat  before  1 1 70.  He 
was  poor,  and  through  his  youth  and  manhood  moved  about 
from  castle  to  castle,  and  from  court  to  court,  seeking  to  win 
some  recompense  for  his  excellent  verses  and  good  company. 
Thus  he  learned  much  of  men,  "  climbing  another's  stairs," 
with  his  fellows,  at  the  Landgraf  Hermann's  Wartburg,  or  at 
the  Austrian  ducal  Court. 

Walther's  Spruche  render  his  moods  most  surely,  and 
reflect  his  outlook  on  the  world.  His  charming  Minnelieder 
bear  more  conventional  evidence.  The  courtly  German  love- 
songs  passing  by  this  name  were  affected  by  the  conceits 
and  conventions  of  the  Provengal  poetry  upon  which  they 


contemporaries,  e.g.  to  the  Aeneid  of  Heinrich  von  Veldeke,  translated  (1184) 
from  a  French  rendering  of  Virgil ;  and  the  two  courtly  narrative  poems,  the 
Erec  and  Ivain  (Knight  of  the  Lion)  taken  from  Chretien  of  Troies  by 
Hartmann  von  Aue,  who  flourished  as  the  twelfth  century  was  passing  into  the 
thirteenth. 

1  On  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide,  see  Wilmann,  Leben  und  Dichtung 
Walther s,  etc.  (Bonn,  1882);  Schonbach,  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide  (2nd  ed., 
Berlin,  1895).  The  citations  from  his  poems  in  this  chapter  follow  the  Pfeiffer- 
Bartsch  edition. 


30  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  iv 

were  modelled.  A  strong  nature  might  use  such  with  power, 
or  break  with  their  influence.  Walther  made  his  own  the 
high  convention  of  trouvere  and  troubadour,  that  love  uplifts 
the  lover's  being.  Besides  this,  and  besides  the  lighter 
forms  and  phrases  current  in  such  poetry,  his  Lieder  carry 
natural  feeling,  joy,  and  moral  levity,  according  to  the  theme  ; 
they  also  may  express  Walther's  convictions. 

To  take  examples:  Walther's  Tagelied^  imitates  the 
Provencal  alba  (dawn),  in  which  knight  and  truant  lady 
bewail  the  coming  of  the  light  and  the  parting  which  it 
brings.  Far  more  joyous,  and  as  immoral  as  one  pleases, 
is  Unter  der  Ltnde,  most  famous  of  his  songs.  Mar- 
vellously it  gives  the  mood  of  love's  joy  remembered — and 
anticipated  too.  The  immorality  is  complete  (if  we  will  be 
serious),  and  is  rendered  most  alluring  by  the  utter  gladness 
of  the  girl's  song — no  repentance,  no  regret ;  only  joy  and 
roguish  laughter. 

Walther  was  young,  he  was  a  knight  and  a  Minnesinger  ; 
he  had  doubtless  loved,  in  this  way !  His  love-songs  have 
plenty  to  say  of  the  red  mouth,  good  for  kissing — I  care  not 
who  knows  it  either.  But  he  also  realizes,  and  greatly  sings, 
the  height  and  breadth  and  worth  of  love  the  true  and 
stable,  the  blessing  and  completion  of  two  lives,  which  comes 
to  a  false  heart  never.2  He  seems  to  feel  it  necessary  to 
defend  love  for  itself,  perhaps  because  marriage  was  taken 
more  seriously  in  this  imitative  German  literature  than  in 
the  French  and  Provencal  originals :  "  Who  says  that  love  is 
sin,  let  him  consider  well.  Many  an  honour  dwells  with  her, 
and  troth  and  happiness.  If  one  does  ill  to  the  other,  love 
is  grieved.  I  do  not  mean  false  love ;  that  were  better 
named  un-love.  No  friend  of  that,  am  I."  But  his 
thoughts  turn  quickly  to  love  as  a  lasting  union :  "  He 
happy  man,  she  happy  woman,  whose  hearts  are  to  each 
other  true  ;  both  lives  increased  in  price  and  worth  ;  blessed 
their  years  and  all  their  days."  3 

Giving  play  to  his  caustic  temper,  Walther  puts  scorn 
upon  the  light  of  love  :  "  Fool  he  who  cannot  understand 
what  joy  and  good,  love  brings.  But  the  light  man  is  ever 

1  No.  3  in  the  Pfeiffer-Bartsch  edition. 

2  184.  *  33- 


CHAP,  xxvi  THE  GERMAN  VIEW  31 

pleased  with  light  things,  as  is  fit ! " 1  This  Minnesinger 
applied  most  earnest  standards  to  life  ;  lofty  his  praise  of  the 
qualities  of  womanhood,  which  are  better  than  beauty  or 
riches  :  "  woman  "  is  a  higher  word  than  "  lady  "  2 — it  took 
a  German  to  say  this.  "  He  who  carries  hidden  sorrow  in 
his  heart,  let  him  think  upon  a  good  woman — he  is  freed."  * 
With  a  burst  of  patriotism,  in  one  of  his  greatest  poems 
Walther  praises  German  women  as  the  best  in  all  the  world.4 
But  even  in  the  Minnelieder,  Walther  has  his  despond- 
encies. One  of  the  most  definite,  and  possibly  conventional, 
was  regret  for  love's  labour  lost,  and  the  days  of  youth 
spent  in  service  of  an  ungracious  fair.  The  poet  wonders  hovr 
it  is  that  he  who  has  helped  other  men  is  tongue-tied  before 
his  lady.  Again,  his  reflections  broaden  from  thoughts  of 
unresponsive  fair  ones  to  a  conviction  of  life's  thanklessness. 
"  I  have  well  served  the  World  (Frau  Welt,  Society),  and 
gladly  would  serve  her  more,  but  for  her  evil  thanks  and  her 
way  of  preferring  fools  to  me.  .  .  .  Come,  World,  give  me 
better  greeting — the  loss  is  not  all  mine."  He  knows  his 
good  unbending  temper  which  will  not  endure  to  hear  ill 
spoken  of  the  upright.  But  he  thinks,  what  is  the  use  ? 
why  speak  so  sweetly,  why  sing,  when  virtue  and  beauty 
are  so  lightly  held,  and  every  one  does  evil,  fearing  nought  ? 
The  verse  which  carries  these  reflections  is  tossing  in  the 
squally  haven  of  Society  ;  soon  the  poet  will  encounter  the 
wild  sea  without.  Still  from  the  windy  harbour  comes  one 
grand  lament  over  art's  decline  :  "  The  worst  songs  please, 
frogs'  voices  !  Oh,  I  laugh  from  anger !  Lady  World,  no 
score  of  mine  is  on  your  devil's  slate.  Many  a  life  of  man 
and  woman  have  I  made  glad — might  I  so  have  gladdened 
mine !  Here,  I  make  my  Will,  and  bequeath  my  goods 
— to  the  envious  my  ill-luck,  my  sorrows  to  the  liars,  my 
follies  to  false  lovers,  and  to  the  ladies  my  heart's  pain."  * 
He  makes  a  solemn  offering  of  his  poems  :  "  Good  women, 
worthy  men,  a  loving  greeting  is  my  due.  Forty  years  have 
I  sung  fittingly  of  love;  and  now,  take  my  songs  which 
gladden,  as  my  gift  to  you.  Your  favour  be  my  return. 
And  with  my  staff  I  will  fare  on,  still  wooing  worth  with 

1  22.  2  14,  16,69.  8  18.  *  39. 

6  See  Lieder,  46,  51,  56,  59,  61,  62,  71,  72,  75,  76,  77. 


32  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  iv 

undisheartened  work,  as  from  my  childhood.  So  shall  I  be, 
in  lowly  lot,  one  of  the  Noble — for  me  enough." 

To  relish  Walther's  love-songs,  one  need  not  know 
whether  she  was  dark  or  fair,  kept  forest-tryst  or  listened  by 
some  castle's  hearth,  or  in  what  German  land  that  castle 
stood.  Likewise  in  his  Spruche,  which  have  other  bearing, 
the  roll  of  his  protesting  voice  carries  the  universal  human. 
To  comprehend  them  it  were  well  to  know  that  life  was  then 
as  now  niggardly  in  rewarding  virtue ;  beyond  this,  one 
needs  to  have  the  type-idea  of  the  Empire  and  the  Papacy, 
those  two  powers  which  were  set,  somewhat  antagonistically, 
on  the  decree  of  God  ;  both  claiming  the  world's  headship  ; 
the  one,  Roman  in  tradition,  but  in  strength  and  temper 
German,  and  of  this  world  decidedly.  The  other,  Roman 
in  the  genius  of  its  organization,  and  Christian  in  its  sub- 
ordination of  the  life  below  to  the  life  to  come,  if  not  in  the 
methods  of  establishing  this  consummation  ;  Christian  too, 
but  more  especially  mediaeval,  in  its  formal  disdain  for 
whatever  belonged  to  earth.  In  Germany  these  two  partial 
opposites  were  further  antagonized,  since  the  native  resources 
recoiled  from  the  foreign  drain  upon  them,  and  the  struggling 
patriotism  of  a  broken  land  resented  the  pressure  of  a  state 
within  and  above  the  state  of  duke  and  king  and  emperor. 

In  Walther's  time  Innocent  III.  swayed  the  nations  from 
Peter's  throne.  Just  before  Innocent's  accession,  Germany's 
able  emperor,  Henry  VI.,  died  suddenly  in  Sicily  (Septem- 
ber 1197),  leaving  an  heir  not  two  years  old.  The  queen- 
mother,  dying  the  next  year,  bequeathed  this  child,  Frederick, 
to  the  paternal  care  of  Innocent,  his  feudal  as  well  as  ghostly 
lord,  since  the  queen,  for  herself  and  child,  had  accepted  the 
Pope  as  the  feudal  suzerain  of  their  kingdom  of  Sicily.  In 
Germany  (using  that  name  loosely  and  broadly)  Philip 
Hohenstauffen,  Henry's  brother  and  Duke  of  Suabia,  claimed 
the  throne.  His  unequal  opponent  was  Otto  of  Brunswick, 
of  the  ever-rebellious  house  of  Henry  the  Lion.  The  Pope 
opposed  the  Hohenstauffen  ;  but  was  obliged  to  acknowledge 
him  when  the  course  of  the  ten  years  of  wasting  civil  war  in 
Germany  decided  in  his  favour — whereupon,  alack  !  Philip 
was  murdered  (1207).  Quickly  the  Pope  turned  back  to 
Otto ;  but  the  latter,  after  he  had  been  crowned  king  and 


CHAP,  xxvr  THE  GERMAN  VIEW  33 

emperor,  became  intolerable  to  Innocent  through  the  com- 
pulsion of  his  position  as  the  head  of  an  empire  inherently 
hostile  to  the  papacy.  To  thwart  him  Innocent  set  up  his  own 
ward,  Frederick.  Soon  this  precocious  youth  began  to  make 
head  against  pope-forsaken  Otto  ;  and  then  the  excommuni- 
cated emperor  was  overthrown  in  1214  by  Philip  Augustus 
of  France,  who  had  intervened  in  Frederick's  favour.  So 
Otto  passed  away,  and,  some  time  after,  Frederick  was 
crowned  German  king  at  Aix-la-Chapelle.1  In  the  mean- 
while Innocent  died  (1216),  and  amity  followed  between 
Frederick  and  the  gentle  Honorius  1 1 1.,  who  crowned  Frederick 
emperor  at  Rome  in  1220.  This  peace  ended  quickly  when 
the  sterner  Gregory  IX.  ascended  the  papal  throne  on  the 
death  of  Honorius  in  1227. 

Walther's  life  extended  through  these  events.  Though 
apparently  changing  sides  under  the  stress  of  his  necessities, 
he  was  patriotically  German  to  the  end.  First  he  clave  to 
the  Hohenstauflfen,  Philip,  as  the  true  upholder  of  German 
interests  against  Otto  and  the  Pope.  On  Philip's  death,  he 
turned  to  Otto  ;  but  with  all  the  world  left  him  at  last  for 
Frederick.  It  is  known  that  Walther,  an  easily  angered  man, 
felt  himself  ill-used  by  Otto  and  justified  in  turning  to  the 
open-handed  Frederick,  who  finally  gave  him  a  small  fief. 
To  the  last,  Walther  upheld  him  as  Germany's  sovereign. 
Probably  the  poet  died  in  the  year  1228,  just  as  Gregory 
was  succeeding  Honorius,  and  the  death-struggle  of  the 
Empire  with  the  Papacy  was  opening. 

With  no  light  heart,  as  well  may  be  imagined,  had 
Walther  looked  about  him  on  the  death  of  the  emperor  Henry 
in  1 1 97.  "  I  sat  upon  a  rock,  crossed  knee  on  knee,  and 
with  elbow  so  supported,  chin  on  hand  I  leaned.  Anxiously 
I  pondered.  I  could  see  no  way  to  win  gain  without  loss. 
Honour  and  riches  do  not  go  hand  in  hand,  both  of  less 
value  than  God's  favour.  Would  I  have  them  all?  Alas! 
riches  and  worldly  honour  and  God's  favour  come  not  within 
the  closure  of  one  heart's  wishes.  The  ways  are  barred  ; 
perfidy  lurks  in  secret,  and  might  walks  the  highroads. 
Peace  and  law  are  wounded."  - 

1  A  lucid  account  of  this  struggle  is  given  in  Luchaire,  Innocent  ///,  vol.  iii. 
(•«  La  Papaute"  et  1'Empire"),  Paris,  1906.  *  81. 

VOL.  II  D 


34  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  iv 

The  personal  dilemma  of  the  poet  with  his  fortune  to 
make,  but  desirous  of  doing  right,  mirrors  the  desperate 
situation  of  the  State :  "  Woe  is  thee,  German  tongue  ;  ill 
stand  thy  order  and  thy  honour ! — I  hear  the  lies  of  Rome 
betraying  two  kings  ! "  And  in  verses  of  wrath  Walther 
inveighs  against  the  Pope.  The  sweeping  nature  of  his 
denunciation  raises  the  question  whether  he  merely  attacked 
the  supposed  treachery  of  the  reigning  pope,  or  was  opposed 
to  the  papacy  as  an  institution  hostile  to  the  German  nation. 

The  answer  is  not  clear.  Mediaeval  denunciations  of 
the  Church  range  from  indictments  of  particular  abuses,  on 
through  more  general  invectives,  to  the  clear  protests  of 
heretics  impugning  the  ecclesiastical  system.  It  is  not 
always  easy  to  ascertain  the  speaker's  meaning.  Usually 
the  abuse  and  not  the  system  is  attacked.  Hostility  to  the 
latter,  however  sweeping  the  language  of  satirist  or  preacher, 
is  not  lightly  to  be  inferred.  The  invectives  of  St.  Bernard 
and  Damiani  are  very  broad  ;  but  where  had  the  Church 
more  devoted  sons?  Even  the  satirists  composing  in  Old 
French  rarely  intended  an  assault  upon  her  spiritual  authority. 
It  would  seem  as  if,  at  least  in  the  Romance  countries,  one 
must  look  for  such  hostility  to  heretical  circles,  the  Waldenses 
for  example.  And  from  the  orthodox  mediaeval  standpoint, 
this  was  their  most  accursed  heresy. 

It  would  have  been  hard  for  any  German  to  use  broader 
language  than  some  of  the  French  satirists  and  Latin 
castigators.  If  there  was  a  difference,  it  must  be  sought 
in  the  specific  matter  of  the  German  disapproval  viewed  in 
connection  with  the  political  situation.  Was  a  position  ever 
taken  incompatible  with  the  Church's  absolute  spiritual 
authority  ?  or  one  intrinsically  irreconcilable  with  the  secular 
power  of  the  papacy  ?  At  any  time,  in  any  country,  papal 
claims  might  become  irreconcilable  with  the  royal  pre- 
rogative— as  William  the  Conqueror  had  held  those  of 
Gregory  VII.  in  England,  and  as,  two  centuries  afterwards, 
Philip  the  Fair  was  to  hold  those  of  Boniface  VIII.  in 
France.  But  in  neither  case  was  there  such  sheer  and 
fundamental  antagonism  as  men  felt  to  exist  between  the 
Empire  and  the  Papacy.  Perhaps  it  was  possible  in  the 
early  thirteenth  century  for  a  German  whose  whole  heart 


CHAP,  xxvi  THE  GERMAN  VIEW  35 

was  on  the  German  side  to  dispute  even  the  sacerdotal 
principle  of  papal  authority.  It  is  hard  to  judge  otherwise 
of  Freidank,  the  very  German  composer  or  collector  of 
trenchant  sayings  in  the  early  thirteenth  century.  Many  of 
these  sneer  at  Rome  and  the  Pope,  and  some  of  them  strike 
the  gist  of  the  matter :  "  Sunde  nieman  mac  vergeben  wan 
Got  alein"  ("  God  alone  can  forgive  sins").  This  is  the  direct 
statement ;  he  gives  its  scornful  converse  :  "  Could  the  Pope 
absolve  me  from  my  oaths  and  duties,  I'd  let  other  sureties 
go  and  fasten  to  him  alone."  *  Such  words  mean  denial  of 
the  Church's  authority  to  forgive,  and  the  Pope's  to  grant 
absolution  from  oaths  of  allegiance.  Freidank  is  very  near 
rejecting  the  principles  of  the  ecclesiastical  system. 

Walther,  Freidank's  contemporary,  is  more  picturesque  : 
"  King  Constantine,  he  gave  so  much — as  I  will  tell  you — 
to  the  Chair  of  Rome  :  spear,  cross,  and  crown.  At  once  the 
angels  cried  :  '  Alas  !  Alas !  Alas  !  Christendom  before 
stood  crowned  with  righteousness.  Now  is  poison  fallen  on 
her,  and  her  honey  turned  to  gall — sad  for  the  world  hence- 
forth ! '  To-day  the  princes  all  live  in  honour  ;  only  their 
highest  languishes — so  works  the  priest's  election.  Be  that 
denounced  to  thee,  sweet  God  !  The  priests  would  upset 
laymen's  rights  :  true  is  the  angels'  prophecy."  2 

On  Constantine's  apocryphal  gift,  symbolized  by  the 
emblems  of  Christ's  passion,  rested  the  secular  authority  of 
the  popes,  which  Walther  laments  with  the  angels.  "  The 
Chair  of  Rome  was  first  set  up  by  Sorcerer  Gerbert !  [Queer 
history  this,  but  we  see  what  he  means.]  He  destroyed  his 
own  soul  only ;  but  this  one  would  bring  down  Christendom 
with  him  to  perdition.  When  will  all  tongues  call  Heaven 
to  arms,  and  ask  God  how  long  He  will  sleep  ?  They  bring 
to  nought  His  work,  distort  His  Word.  His  steward  steals 
His  treasure  ;  His  judge  robs  here  and  murders  there  ;  His 
shepherd  has  become  a  wolf  among  His  sheep."3  The 
clergy  point  their  fingers  heavenward  while  they  travel  fast 
to  hell.4  How  laughs  the  Pope  at  us,  when  at  home  with 
his  Italians,  at  the  way  he  empties  our  German  pockets  into 

1  From  "  Freidank  in  Auswahl,"  in  Hildebrand's  Didaktik  aus  der  Zeit  der 
Krcuzziigt,  p.  336  (Deutsche  Nat.  Lit.). 

2  85,  cf.  164.  3  1 10.  4   113,  cf.  in,  112. 


36  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  iv 

his  "  poor  boxes."  l  Walther's  hatred  of  the  foreign  Pope  is 
roused  at  every  point  And  at  last,  in  a  Spruch  full  of 
implied  meaning,  he  declares  that  Christ's  word  as  to  the 
tribute  money  meant  that  the  emperor  should  receive  his 
royal  due.2 

These  utterances,  considered  in  the  light  of  the  political 
and  racial  situation,  seem  to  deny,  at  least  implicitly,  the 
secular  power  of  the  papacy.  Yet  in  matters  of  religion 
Walther  apparently  was  entirely  orthodox,  and  a  pious 
Christian.  He  has  left  a  sweet  prayer  to  Christ,  with  ample 
recognition  of  the  angels  and  the  saints,  and  a  beautiful 
verse  of  penitent  contrition,  in  which  he  confesses  his  sins  to 
God  very  directly — how  that  he  does  the  wrong,  and  leaves 
the  right,  and  fails  in  love  of  neighbour.  "  Father,  Son,  may 
thy  Spirit  lighten  mine ;  how  may  I  love  him  who  does  me 
ill  ?  Ever  dear  to  me  is  he  who  treats  me  well ! " 3  Walther's 
questing  spirit  also  pondered  over  God's  greatness  and 
incomprehensibility.4  His  open  mind  is  shown  by  the 
famous  line :  "  Him  (God)  Christians,  Jews,  and  heathen 
serve,"  5  a  breadth  of  view  shared  by  his  friend  Wolfram  von 
Eschenbach,  who  speaks  of  the  chaste  virtue  of  a  heathen 
lady  as  equal  to  baptism.6 

The  personal  lot  of  this  proud  heart  was  not  an  easy 
one  ;  homelessness  broke  him  down,  and  the  bitterness  of 
eating  others'  bread.  Too  well  had  he  learned  of  the  world 
and  all  its  changing  ways,  and  how  poor  becomes  the  soul 
that  follows  them.  Mortality  is  a  trite  sorrow ;  there  are 
worse :  "  We  all  complain  that  the  old  die  and  pass  away  ; 
rather  let  us  lament  taints  of  another  hue,  that  troth  and 

1  115,  116. 

2  133.     My  statement  of  the  opposition  to  the  papacy  might  be  much  more 
analytical,  and  contain  further  apt  distinctions.      But  this  would  remove  it  too  far 
from  the  anti-papal  feeling  of  the  common  man  ;  and  the  period,  moreover,  is 
not  yet  that  of  Occam  and  Marsilius  of  Padua — as  to  whom  see  Gierke,  Political 
Theories  of  the  Middle  Age,  trans,  by  Maitland  (Cambridge,  1900). 

3  88,  137. 

4  1 58.     Walter  shared  the  crusading  spirit.     The  inference  that  he  was  him- 
self a  Crusader  is  unsafe ;  but  he  wrote  stirring  crusading  poems,  one  opening 
with  a  line  that  in  sudden  power  may  be  compared  with  Milton's 

"  Avenge,  O  Lord,  Thy  slaughtered  saints." 
"  Rich,  herre,  dich  und  dine  muoter,  megede  kint." 

167.     See  also  78,  79. 
6  87.  «  Parzival,  L  824. 


CHAP,  xxvi  THE  GERMAN  VIEW  37 

seemliness  and  honour  are  dead."1  At  the  last  Walther's 
grey  memory  of  life  and  his  vainly  yearning  hope  took  form 
in  a  great  elegy.  After  long  years  he  seemed,  with  heavy 
steps,  and  leaning  on  his  wanderer's  staff,  to  be  returning  to 
a  home  which  was  changed  forever  :  "  Alas  !  whither  are  they 
vanished,  my  many  years  !  Did  I  dream  my  life,  or  is  it 
real  ?  what  I  once  deemed  it,  was  it  that  ?  And  now  I 
wake,  and  all  the  things  and  people  once  familiar,  strange  ! 
My  playmates,  dull  and  old  !  And  the  fields  changed  ;  only 
that  the  streams  still  flow  as  then  they  flowed,  my  heart 
would  break  with  thinking  on  the  glad  days,  vanished  in  the 
sea.  And  the  young  people  !  slow  and  mirthless  !  and  the 
knights  go  clad  as  peasants  !  Ah  !  Rome  !  thy  ban  !  Our 
groans  have  stilled  the  song  of  birds.  Fool  I,  to  speak  and 
so  despair, — and  the  earth  looks  fair !  Up  knights  again  : 
your  swords,  your  armour  !  would  to  God  I  might  fare  with 
your  victor  band,  and  gain  my  pay  too — not  in  lands  of 
earth  !  Oh  !  might  I  win  the  eternal  crown  from  that  sweet 
voyage  beyond  the  sea,  then  would  I  sing  O  joy  !  and  never 
more,  alas — never  more,  alas."  2 

1  186.  2  188. 


BOOK   V 
SYMBOLISM 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

SCRIPTURAL    ALLEGORIES    IN    THE   EARLY    MIDDLE    AGES  J 
HONORIUS   OF    AUTUN 

WORDS,  pictures,  and  other  vehicles  of  expression  are  symbols 
of  whatever  they  are  intended  to  designate.  A  certain  un- 
avoidable symbolism  also  inheres  in  human  mental  processes  ; 
for  the  mind  in  knowing  "  turns  itself  to  images,"  as  Aquinas 
says  following  Aristotle  ;  and  every  statement  or  formula- 
tion is  a  casting  together  of  data  in  some  presentable  and 
representative  form.  An  example  is  the  Apostles'  Creed, 
called  also  by  this  very  name  of  Symbol,  being  a  casting 
together,  an  elementary  formula,  of  the  essentials  of  the 
Christian  Faith.  In  the  same  sense  the  "  law  of  gravitation  " 
or  a  moral  precept  is  a  deduction,  induction,  or  gathering 
together  into  a  representative  symbol,  of  otherwise  un- 
assembled and  uncorrelated  experience.  In  the  present  and 
following  chapters,  however,  the  term  symbol  will  be  used 
in  its  common  acceptation  to  indicate  a  thing,  an  act,  or  a 
word  invested  with  an  adventitious  representative  significance. 
All  statements  or  expressions  (through  language  or  by 
means  of  pictures)  which  are  intended  to  carry,  besides  their 
palpable  meaning,  another  which  is  veiled  and  more  spiritual, 
are  symbolical  or  figurative,  and  more  specifically  are  called 
allegories.1 

1  While  an  allegory  is  a  statement  having  another  consciously  intended 
meaning,  metaphor  is  the  carrying  over  or  deflection  of  a  meaning  from  its 
primary  application.  According  to  good  usage,  which  has  kept  these  terms 
distinct,  allegory  implies  a  definite  and  usually  a  sustained  intention,  and  suggests 
the  spiritual ;  while  metaphor  suggests  figures  of  speech  and  linguistic  changes 
often  unconscious.  Language  develops  through  the  metaphorical  (not  allegorical) 
extension  or  modification  of  the  meanings  of  words.  The  original  meaning 
sometimes  is  obscured  (e.g.  in  profane  or  depend),  and  sometimes  continues  to 

41 


42  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

These  devices  of  the  mind  have  a  history  as  old  as 
humanity.  From  inscrutable  beginnings,  in  time  they  become 
recognized  as  makeshifts ;  yet  they  remain  prone  to  enter 
new  stages  of  confusion.  The  mind  seeking  to  express  the 
transcendental,  avails  itself  of  symbols.  All  religions  have 
teemed  with  them,  in  their  primitive  phases  scarcely  dis- 
tinguishing between  symbol  and  fact ;  then  a  difference 
becomes  evident  to  clearer-minded  men,  while  perhaps  at  the 
same  time  others  are  elaborately  maintaining  that  the  symbol 
magically  is,  or  brings  to  pass,  that  which  it  represents. 
Such  obscuring  mysticism  existed  not  merely  in  confused 
Egypt  and  Brahminical  India,  but  everywhere — in  antique 
Greece  and  Rome,  and  then  afterwards  through  the  times  of 
the  Christian  Church  Fathers  and  the  entire  Middle  Ages. 
Fact  and  symbol  are  seen  constantly  closing  together  and 
becoming  each  other  like  the  serpent-souls  in  the  twenty-fifth 
canto  of  Dante's  Inferno. 

Allegory  properly  speaking,  which  involves  a  conscious 
and  sustained  effort  to  invest  concrete  or  material  statements 
with  more  general  or  spiritual  meaning,  played  an  interesting 
r61e  in  epochs  antecedent  to  the  patristic  and  mediaeval 
periods.  Even  before  Plato's  time  the  personal  myths  of 
the  gods  shocked  the  Greek  ethical  intellect,  which  thereupon 
proceeded  to  convert  them  into  allegories.  Greek  allegorical 
interpretation  of  ancient  myth  was  apologetic  to  both  the 
critical  mind  and  the  moral  sense. 

With  Philo,  the  Hellenizing  Jew  of  Alexandria,  whose 
philosophy  revolted  from  the  literal  text  of  Genesis,  the 
motive  for  allegorical  interpretation  was  similar.  But  the 
document  before  him  was  most  unlike  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey. 
Genesis  contained  no  palpably  immoral  stories  of  Jehovah 
to  be  explained  away.  Its  account  of  divine  creation  and 
human  beginnings  merely  needed  to  be  invested  with  further 
ethical  meaning.  So  Philo  made  cardinal  virtues  of  the  four 
rivers  of  Eden,  and  through  like  allegorical  conceits  trans- 
formed the  Book  of  Genesis  into  a  system  of  Hellenistic 


exist  with  the  new  one.  In  a  vast  number  of  languages,  such  words  as  straight, 
oblique,  crooked,  seem  always  to  have  had  both  a  direct  and  a  metaphorical 
meaning.  Moral  and  intellectual  conceptions  necessarily  are  expressed  in  phrases 
primarily  applicable  to  physical  phenomena. 


CHAP,  xxvn       SCRIPTURAL  ALLEGORIES  43 

ethics.  Not  cosmogonic  myths,  but  moral  meanings,  he  had 
discovered  in  his  document. 

Advancing  along  the  path  which  Philo  found,  Christian 
allegorical  interpretation  undertook  to  substantiate  the 
validity  of  the  Gospel.  To  this  end  it  fixed  special 
symbolical  meanings  upon  the  Old  Testament  narratives,  so 
as  to  make  them  into  prefigurative  testimonies  to  the  truth 
of  Christian  teachings.1  Allegory  was  also  called  on  to 
justify,  as  against  educated  pagans,  certain  acts  of  that 
heroic  but  peccant  "  type "  of  Christ,  David,  the  son  of 
Jesse.  Such  special  apologetic  needs  hardly  affected  the 
allegorical  interpretation  of  the  Gospel  itself,  which  began  at 
an  early  day,  and  from  the  first  was  spiritual  and  anagogic, 
constantly  straining  on  to  educe  further  salutary  meaning 
from  the  text. 

The  Greek  and  Latin  Church  Fathers  created  the  mass 
of  doctrine,  including  Scriptural  interpretation,2  upon  which 
mediaeval  theologians  were  to  expend  their  systematizing 
and  reconstructive  labours.  Through  the  Middle  Ages,  the 
course  of  allegory  and  symbolism  strikingly  illustrates  the 
mediaeval  way  of  using  the  patristic  heritage — first  painfully 
learning  it,  then  making  it  their  own,  and  at  last  creating 
by  means  of  that  which  they  had  organically  appropriated. 
Allegory  and  symbolism  were  to  impress  the  Middle  Ages 
as  perhaps  no  other  element  of  their  inheritance.  The 
mediaeval  man  thought  and  felt  in  symbols,  and  the  sequence 
of  his  thought  moved  as  frequently  from  symbol  to  symbol 
as  from  fact  to  fact. 

The  allegorical  faculty  with  the  Fathers  was  dogmatic 
and  theological ;  ingenious  in  devising  useful  interpretations, 
but  oblivious  to  all  reasonable  propriety  in  the  meaning 
which  it  twisted  into  the  text :  controversial  necessities 
readily  overrode  the  rational  and  moral  requirements  of  the 
"historical"  or  "literal"  meaning.  For  the  deeply  realized 
allegorical  significance  was  a  law  unto  itself.  These 
characteristics  of  patristic  allegory  passed  over  to  the  Middle 
Ages,  which  in  the  course  of  time  were  to  impress  human 
qualities  upon  the  patristic  material. 

1  Cf.  Taylor,  Classical  Heritage,  p.  97  sqq. 
2  Ante,  Chapters  IV.,  V. 


44  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

The  Bathsheba  and  Uriah  episode  in  the  life  of  David 
was  of  course  taken  allegorical ly,  and  affords  a  curious 
example  of  a  patristic  interpretation  originating  in  the 
exigencies  of  controversy,  and  then  becoming  authoritative 
for  later  periods  when  the  echoes  of  the  old  controversy  had 
long  been  silent.  Augustine  was  called  upon  to  answer 
the  book  of  the  clever  Manichaean,  Faustus,  the  stress 
of  whose  attacks  was  directed  against  the  Old  Testament. 
Faustus  declared  that  he  did  not  blaspheme  "  the  law  and 
the  prophets,"  but  rejected  merely  the  special  Hebrew 
customs  and  the  vile  calumnies  of  the  Old  Testament 
writers,  imputing  shameful  acts  to  prophets  and  patriarchs. 
In  his  list  of  shocking  narratives  to  be  rejected,  was  the  story 
"  that  David  after  having  had  such  a  number  of  wives, 
defiled  the  little  woman  of  Uriah  his  soldier,  and  caused  him 
to  be  slain  in  battle."1 

Augustine  responds  with  a  general  exclamation  at  the 
Manichaean's  failure  to  understand  the  sacramental  symbols 
(sacramenta)  of  the  Law  and  the  deeds  of  the  prophets.  He 
then  speaks  of  certain  Old  Testament  statements  regarding 
God  and  His  demands,  and  proceeds  to  consider  the  nature 
of  sin  and  the  questionable  deeds  of  the  prophets.  Some  of 
the  reprehended  deeds  he  justifies,  as,  for  instance,  Abraham's 
intercourse  with  Hagar  and  his  deceit  in  telling  Abimelech 
that  Sara  was  his  sister  when  she  was  his  wife.  He 
also  declares  that  Sara  typifies  the  Church,  which  is  the 
secret  spouse  of  Christ.  Proceeding  further,  he  does  not 
justify,  but  palliates,  the  conduct  of  Lot  and  his  daughters, 
and  then  introduces  its  typological  significance.  At  length 
he  comes  to  David.  First  he  gives  a  noble  estimate  of 
David's  character,  his  righteousness,  his  liability  to  sin,  and 
his  quick  penitence.2  Afterwards  he  considers,  briefly  as  he 
says,  what  David's  sin  with  Bathsheba  signifies  prophetically.3 
The  passage  may  be  given  to  show  what  a  mixture  of 
banality  and  disregard  of  moral  propriety  in  drawing 
analogies  might  emanate  from  the  best  mind  among  the 

1   Contra  Faustum,  xxii.  1-5.  2  Contra  Faustum,  xxii.  66-68. 

3  Augustine's  method  in  this  twenty-second  Book  is  first  to  consider  the  actual 
sinfulness  or  justification  of  these  deeds,  and  afterwards  to  take  up  in  succession 
their  typological  significance.  So,  for  example,  he  discusses  the  blamefulness  of 
Judah's  conduct  with  Tamar  in  par.  61-64  and  its  typology  in  83-86. 


CHAP,  xxvii       SCRIPTURAL  ALLEGORIES  45 

Latin    Fathers,  and    be  repeated  by  later  transitional    and 
mediaeval  commentators. 

"The  names  themselves  when  interpreted  indicate  what  this 
deed  prefigured.  David  is  interpreted  '  Strong  of  hand '  or  '  Desir- 
able.' And  what  is  stronger  than  that  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah 
that  overcame  the  world?  and  what  is  more  desirable  than  him  of 
whom  the  prophet  says :  '  The  desired  of  all  nations  shall  come ' 
(Hag.  ii.  7)?  Bathsheba  means  '  well  of  satiety,'  or  'seventh  well.' 
Whichever  of  these  interpretations  we  adopt  will  suit.  For  in 
Canticles  the  Bride  who  is  the  Church  is  called  a  well  of  living 
water  (Cant.  iv.  15);  and  to  this  well  the  name  of  the  seventh 
number  is  joined  in  the  sense  of  Holy  Spirit ;  and  this  because  of 
Pentecost  (the  fiftieth),  the  day  on  which  the  Holy  Spirit  came. 
For  that  same  festival  is  of  the  weeks  (de  septimanis  constare)  as  the 
Book  of  Tobit  testifies.  Then  to  forty-nine,  which  is  seven  times 
seven,  one  is  added,  whereby  unity  is  commended.  By  this 
spiritual,  that  is  '  Seven-natured '  (septenario)  gift  the  Church  is 
made  a  well  of  satiety ;  because  there  is  made  in  her  a  well  of 
living  water  springing  up  unto  everlasting  life,  which  whoso  has 
shall  never  thirst  (John  iv.  14).  Uriah,  indeed,  who  had  been  her 
husband,  what  but  devil  does  his  name  signify?  In  whose  vilest 
wedlock  all  those  were  bound  whom  the  grace  of  God  sets  free, 
that  the  Church  without  spot  or  wrinkle  may  be  married  to  her  own 
Saviour.  For  Uriah  is  interpreted,  '  My  light  of  God ' ;  and  Hittite 
means  '  cut  off,'  or  he  who  does  not  stand  in  truth,  but  by  the  guilt 
of  pride  is  cut  off  from  the  supernal  light  which  he  had  from  God ; 
or  it  means,  he  who  in  falling  away  from  his  true  strength  which 
was  lost,  nevertheless  fashioneth  himself  into  an  angel  of  light 
(2  Cor.  xi.  14),  daring  to  say :  '  My  light  is  of  God.'  Therefore  this 
David  gravely  and  wickedly  sinned ;  and  God  rebuked  his  crime 
through  the  prophet  with  a  threat ;  and  he  himself  washed  it 
away  by  repenting.  Yet  likewise  He,  the  desired  of  all  nations,  was 
enamoured  of  the  Church  bathing  upon  the  roof,  that  is  cleansing 
herself  from  the  filth  of  the  world,  and  in  spiritual  contemplation 
surmounting  and  trampling  on  her  house  of  clay ;  and  knowledge 
of  her  having  been  had  at  their  first  meeting,  He  afterwards  killed 
the  devil,  apart  from  her,  and  joined  her  to  himself  in  perpetual 
marriage.  Therefore  we  hate  the  sin  but  will  not  quench  the 
prophecy.  Let  us  love  that  {ilium)  David,  who  is  so  greatly  to  be 
loved,  who  through  mercy  freed  us  from  the  devil ;  and  let  us  also 
love  that  (istuni)  David  who  by  the  humility  of  penitence  healed 
in  himself  so  deep  a  wound  of  sin." x 


1   Contra  Faustum,  xxii.  87.      St.  Ambrose,  in  his  Apologia  Prophetae  David, 
cap.  iii.   (Migne  14,  col.  857),  written  some  years  before  Augustine's  treatise 


46  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

Augustine's  interpretation  of  the  story  of  David  and 
Bathsheba  was  embodied  verbatim  in  a  work  upon  the  Old 
Testament  by  Isidore  of  Seville.1  The  voluminous  commen- 
tator Rabanus  Maurus  took  the  same,  also  verbatim,  either 
from  Isidore  or  Augustine.2  His  pupil,  Walafrid  Strabo, 
in  his  famous  Glossa  ordinaria,  cited,  probably  from 
Rabanus,  the  first  part  of  the  passage  as  far  as  the  reference 
to  the  well  of  living  water  from  John's  Gospel.  He  abridged 
the  matter  somewhat,  thus  showing  the  smoothing  compiler's 
art  which  was  to  bring  his  Glossa  ordinaria  into  such 
general  use.  Walafrid  omitted  the  lines  declaring  that  Uriah 
signified  the  devil.  He  did  cite,  however,  again  probably 
from  Rabanus,  part  of  a  long  passage,  taken  by  Rabanus 
from  Gregory  the  Great,  where  Bathsheba  is  declared  to  be 
the  letter  of  the  Law,  united  to  a  carnal  people,  which  David 
(Christ)  joins  to  himself  in  a  spiritual  sense.  Uriah  is  that 
carnal  people,  to  wit,  the  Jews.3 

Thus  far  as  to  the  comments  on  the  narrative  from  the 
eleventh  chapter  of  the  Second  Book  of  Samuel,  otherwise 
called  the  Second  Book  of  Kings.  When  Rabanus  came  to 
explain  the  sixth  verse  of  the  first  chapter  of  Matthew — "  And 
David  begat  Solomon  from  her  who  was  the  wife  of  Uriah  " 
— he  said  :  "  Uriah  indeed,  that  is  interpreted  '  My  light  of 
God,'  signifies  the  devil,  who  fashions  himself  into  an  angel 
of  light,  daring  to  say  to  God  :  '  My  light  of  God,'  and  '  I 
will  be  like  unto  the  Most  High '  (Isaiah  xiv.)." 4  Here  pupil 
Walafrid  follows  his  master,  but  adds :  "  Whose  bewedded 
Church  Christ  became  enamoured  of  from  the  terrace  of  His 
paternal  majesty  and  joined  her,  made  beautiful,  to  himself 
in  matrimony."5 

With  Rabanus  and  Walafrid,  as  with  Isidore  and  the 
Venerable  Bede  who  were  the  links  between  these  Carolingians 


against  Faustus,  finds  Bathsheba  to  signify  the  "  congregatio  nationum  quae  non 
erat  Christo  legitimo  quodam  fidei  copulata  connubio." 

1  Quaestiones  in   Vet.  Testam.  in  Regum  II.  (Migne  83,  col.  411).     Isidore 
died  A.D.  636  (ante,  Chapter  V.) 

2  Comment,  in  Libras  IV.  Regum,  in  lib.  ii.  cap.  xi.  ;   Migne,  Pat.  Lat.  109, 
col.  98  (written  in  834).     On  Rabanus  and  Walafrid  see  ante,  Chapter  X. 

3  Glossa  ordinaria,  Lib.  Regum,  ii.  cap.  xi.  (Migne  113,  col.  571,  572) 

4  Comment,  in  Matthaeum  (Migne  107,  col.  734). 
6  Migne  114,  col.  67. 


CHAP,  xxvn       SCRIPTURAL  ALLEGORIES  47 

and  the  Fathers,  the  interest  in  Scripture  relates  to  its 
allegorical  significance.  Unmindful  of  the  obvious  and 
literal  meaning  of  the  text,  they  were  unabashed  by  the 
incongruity  of  their  allegorical  interpretations.1  Rabanus, 
for  instance,  had  unbounded  enthusiasm  for  Exodus,  because 
of  its  rich  symbolism  : 

"  Among  the  Scriptures  embraced  in  the  Pentateuch  of  the  Law, 
the  Book  of  Exodus  excels  in  merit ;  in  it  almost  all  the  sacraments 
by  which  the  present  Church  is  founded,  nourished,  and  ruled, 
are  figuratively  set  forth.  For  there,  through  the  corporeal  exit  of 
the  children  of  Israel  from  the  terrestrial  Egypt,  our  exit  from  the 
spiritual  Egypt  is  made  clear.  There  again,  through  the  crossing  of 
the  Red  Sea  and  the  submersion  of  Pharaoh  and  the  Egyptians,  the 
mystery  of  Baptism  and  the  destruction  of  spiritual  enemies  are 
figured.  There  the  immolation  of  the  typifying  lamb  and  the 
celebration  of  the  Passover  suggest  the  passion  of  the  true  Lamb 
and  our  redemption.  There  manna  from  heaven  and  drink  from  a 
rock  are  given  in  order  to  teach  us  to  desire  the  heavenly  bread 
and  the  drink  of  life.  There  precepts  and  judgments  are  delivered 
to  the  people  of  God  upon  a  mountain  in  order  that  we  may  learn 
to  be  subject  to  supernal  discipline.  There  the  construction  of  the 
tabernacle  and  its  vessels  is  ordered  to  take  place  with  worship  and 
sacrifices,  that  therein  the  adornment  of  the  marvellous  Church 
and  the  rites  of  spiritual  sacrifices  may  be  indicated.  There  the 
perfumes  of  incense  and  anointment  are  prepared,  in  order  that  the 
sanctification  of  the  Holy  Spirit  and  the  mystery  of  sacred  prayers 
may  be  commended  to  us."  2 

The  same  commentator  compiled  a  dictionary  of  allegories 

1  It  was  the  way  of  Bede  in  his  commentaries  to  speak  briefly  of  the  literal 
or  historic  meaning  of  the  text,  and  then  give  the  usual  symbolical  interpretations, 
paying  special  attention  to  the  significance  of  the  Old  Testament  narratives  as 
types  of  the  career  of  Christ  (see  e.g.  the  beginning  of  the  Commentary  on 
Exodus,  Migne  92,  col.  285  sqq.  ;  and  Prologue  to  the  allegorical  Commentary 
on  Samuel,  Migne  92,  col.  501,  502).     For  example,  in  the  opening  of  the  First 
Book  of  Samuel,  Elkanah  is  a  type  of  Christ,  and  his  two  wives  Peninnah  and 
Hannah  represent  the  Synagogue  and  the  Church.     When  Samuel  is  born  to 
Hannah  he  also  is  a  type  of  Christ ;  and  Bede  says  it  need  not  astonish  one  that 
Hannah's  spouse  and  Hannah's  son  should  both  be  types  of  Christ,  since  the 
Mediator  between  God  and  man  is  at  once  the  spouse  and  son  of  Holy  Church  : 
He  is  her  spouse  as  He  aids  her  with  His  confidence  and  hope  and  love,  and  her 
son  when  by  grace  He  enters  the  hearts  of  those  who  believe  and  hope  and  love. 
In  Samuelam,  cap.  iii.  (Migne  91,  col.   508).     Bede's  monastic  mind  balked  at 
the  literal  statement  that  Elkanah  had  two  wives  (see  the  Prologue,  Migne  91, 
col.  499). 

2  Com.  in  Exodum,  Praefatio  (Migne  108,  col.  9). 


48  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

entitled  Allegoriae  in  universam  sacram  scripturam?  saying 
in  his  lumbering  Preface  : 

"Whoever  desires  to  arrive  at  an  understanding  of  Holy 
Scripture  should  consider  when  he  should  take  the  narrative 
historically,  when  allegorically,  when  anagogically,  and  when 
tropologically.  For  these  four  ways  of  understanding,  to  wit, 
history,  allegory,  tropology,  anagogy,  we  call  the  four  daughters  of 
wisdom,  who  cannot  fully  be  searched  out  without  a  prior  knowledge 
of  these.  Through  them  Mother  Wisdom  feeds  her  adopted 
children,  giving  to  tender  beginners  drink  in  the  milk  of  history ;  to 
those  advancing  in  faith,  the  food  of  allegory ;  to  the  strenuous  and 
sweating  doers  of  good  works,  satiety  in  the  savoury  refection  of 
tropology ;  and  finally,  to  those  raised  from  the  depths  through 
contempt  of  the  earthly  and  through  heavenly  desire  progressing 
towards  the  summit,  the  sober  intoxication  of  theoretical  contempla- 
tion in  the  wine  of  anagogy.  .  .  .  History,  through  the  ensample 
which  it  gives  of  perfect  men,  incites  the  reader  to  the  imitation  of 
holiness ;  allegory,  in  the  revelation  of  faith,  leads  to  a  knowledge  of 
truth ;  tropology,  in  the  instruction  of  morals,  to  a  love  of  virtue ; 
anagogy,  in  the  display  of  everlasting  joys,  to  a  desire  of  eternal 
felicity.  In  the  house  of  our  soul,  history  lays  the  foundation, 
allegory  erects  the  walls,  anagogy  puts  on  the  roof,  while  tropology 
provides  ornament,  within  through  the  disposition,  without  through 
the  effect  of  the  good  work."  2 

This  work,  alphabetically  arranged,  gave  the  allegorical 
significations  of  words  used  in  the  Vulgate,  with  examples  ; 
for  instance  : 

"  Ager  (field)  is  the  world,  as  in  the  Gospel :  '  To  the  man  who 
sowed  good  seed  in  his  field,'  that  is  to  Christ,  who  sows  preaching 
through  the  world. 

1  Migne  1 12,  col.  849-1088.     A  number  of  these  dictionaries  were  compiled, 
the  earliest  being  the  De  formulis  spiritalis  intellegentiae  of  Eucherius,  Bishop 
of  Lyons,   who  died  in  450,  ed.   by  Pauly   1884.       In  the  later  Middle  Ages 
Alanus  de  Insulis  (posi,  Chapter  XXIX.)  compiled  one. 

2  These  distinctions,  not  commonly  observed,  are  frequently  reiterated.      Says 
Hugo  of  St.   Victor  (see  post,   Chapter  XXVIII.)  in  the  Prologue   to  his  De 
sacramentis  :    "Divine  Scripture,  with  threefold  meaning,  considers  its  matter 
historically,  allegorically,  and  tropologically.      History  is  the  narrative  of  facts, 
and  follows  the  primary  meaning  of  words  ;    we  have  allegory  when  the  fact 
which   is  told   signifies  some  other  fact   in  the  past,  present,  or  future  ;    and 
tropology  when  the  narrated  fact  signifies  that  something  should  be  done."     Cf. 
Hugo's  Didascalicon,  v.  cap.  2,  where  Hugo  illustrates  his  meaning,  and  points 
out  that  this  threefold  significance  is  not  to  be  found  in  every  passage  of  Scripture. 
In  ibid,  v.  cap.  4,  he  gives  seven  curious  rules  of  interpretation  (Migne  176,  col. 
789-793).     In  his  De  Scripturis,  etc.,praenotatiunculae,  cap.  3  (Migne  175,  col. 
1 1  sqq. ),  Hugo  speaks  of  the  anagogical  significance  in  the  place  of  the  tropological. 


CHAP,  xxvii       SCRIPTURAL  ALLEGORIES  49 

"  Amicus  (friend)  is  Christ,  as  in  Canticles :  '  He  is  my  friend, 
daughters  of  Jerusalem,'  for  He  loved  His  Church  so  much  that  He 
would  die  for  her.  .  .  . 

"  Ancilla  (handmaid)  is  the  Church,  as  in  the  Psalms :  '  Make 
safe  the  son  of  thine  handmaid,'  that  is  me,  who  am  a  member  of 
the  Church.  Ancilla,  corruptible  flesh,  as  in  Genesis :  '  Cast  out 
the  handmaid  and  her  son,'  that  is,  despise  the  flesh  and  its  carnal 
fruit.  Ancilla,  preachers  of  the  Church,  as  in  Job :  '  He  will  bind 
her  with  his  handmaids,1  because  the  Lord  through  His  preachers 
conquered  the  devil.  Ancilla,  the  effeminate  minds  of  the  Jews, 
as  in  Job:  'Thy  handmaids  hold  me  as  a  stranger,'  because  the 
effeminate  minds  of  the  Jews  knew  me  through  faith.2  Ancilla, 
the  lowly,  as  in  Genesis,  'and  meal  for  his  handmaids,'  because 
Holy  Church  affords  spiritual  refection  to  the  lowly. 

Aqua  is  the  Holy  Spirit,  Christ,  subtle  wisdom,  loquacity, 
temporal  greed,  baptism,  the  hidden  speech  of  the  prophets,  the 
holy  preaching  of  Christ,  compunction,  temporal  prosperity, 
adversity,  human  knowledge,  this  world's  wealth,  the  literal  mean- 
ing, carnal  pleasure,  eternal  reflection,  holy  angels,  souls  of  the 
blessed,  saints,  humility's  lament,  the  devotions  of  the  saints,  sins 
of  the  elect  which  God  condones,  knowledge  of  the  heretics, 
persecutions,  unstable  thoughts,  the  blandishments  of  temptations, 
the  pleasures  of  the  wicked,  the  punishments  of  hell. 

Mons,  mountain  (in  the  singular)  the  Virgin  Mary,  monies  (in 
the  plural)  angels,  apostles,  sublime  precepts,  the  two  Testaments, 
inner  meditations,  proud  men,  the  Gentiles,  evil  spirits.3 

Thus  Rabanus  dragged  into  his  compilation  every  mean- 
ing that  had  ever  been  ascribed  to  the  words  defined.  In 
him  and  his  contemporaries,  the  allegorical  material,  apart 

1  Raban's  Latin  is   "  Ligabit  earn  ancillis  suis " — the  verse  in  Job  xl.   24 
reads  "  Ligabis  earn  ancillis  tuis?"      In  the  English  version  the  verse  is  Job 
xli.  5,  "  Wilt  thou  bind  him  for  thy  maidens?  " 

2  ' '  Per  fidem  me  cognoverunt "  ;  I  surmise  a  turn  is  omitted. 

3  The  Scriptural  citations  are  omitted.     Rabanus  wrote   an  allegorical  De 
laudibus  sanctae  crucis  (Migne  107,  col.  133-294),  composed  in  metre  with  prose 
explanations,  which  explain  very  little.     The  metrical  portion  is  a  puzzle  con- 
sisting of  twenty-eight  "  figures,"  or  lineal  delineations  interwoven  in  hexameter 
verses  ;  the  words  and  letters  contained  within  each  figure  ' '  make  sense  "  when 
read  by  themselves,   and  form  verses  in  metres  other  than  hexameters.     The 
whole  is  as  incomprehensible  in  meaning  as  it  is  indescribable  in  form.     Angels, 
cherubim  and  seraphim,  tetragons,  the  virtues,  months,  winds,  elements,  signs  of 
the  Zodiac,  and  other  twelvefold  mysteries,  the  days  of  the  year,  the  number 
seven,  the  five  books  of  Moses,  the  four  evangelists,  the  seven  gifts  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,   the  eight  beatitudes,  the  mystery  of  the  number  forty,  the  sacrament 
shown  by  the  number  fifty, — all  these  and  much  besides  contribute  to  the  glory 
of  the  Cross,  and  are  delineated  and  arranged  in  cruciform  manner,  so  as  to  be 
included  within  the  scope  of  the  cross's  symbolical  significance. 

VOL.  II  B 


50  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

from  its  utility  for  salvation,  seems  void  of  human  interest  or 
poetic  quality,  as  yet  unstirred  by  a  breath  of  life.  That 
was  to  enter,  as  allegory  and  all  manner  of  symbolism  began 
to  form  the  temper  of  mediaeval  thought,  and  became  a 
chosen  vessel  of  the  mediaeval  spirit  in  poetry  and  art  The 
vital  change  had  taken  place  before  the  twelfth  century  had 
turned  its  first  quarter.1 

There  flourished  at  this  time  a  worthy  monk  named 
Honorius  of  Autun,  also  called  "the  Solitary."  It  has 
been  argued,  and  vehemently  contradicted,  that  he  was  of 
German  birth.  At  all  events,  monk  he  was  and  teacher  at 
Autun.  Those  about  him  sought  his  instruction,  and  also 
requested  him  to  put  his  discourses  into  writing  for  their  use  ; 
their  request  reads  as  if  at  that  time  Honorius  had  retired  from 
among  them.2  This  is  all  that  is  known  of  the  man  who  com- 
posed the  most  popular  handbook  of  sermons  in  the  Middle 
Ages.  It  was  called  the  Speculum  ecclesiae.  Honorius  may 
never  have  preached  these  sermons  ;  but  still  his  book  exists 
with  sermons  for  Sundays,  saints'  days,  and  other  Church 
festivals  ;  a  sermon  also  to  be  preached  at  Church  dedica- 
tions, and  one  "  sermo  generalis,"  very  useful,  since  it  touched 
up  all  orders  of  society  in  succession,  and  a  preacher  might 
take  or  omit  according  to  his  audience.  Before  beginning, 
the  preacher  is  directed  to  make  the  sign  of  the  cross  and 
invoke  the  Holy  Spirit :  he  is  admonished  first  to  pronounce 
his  text  of  Scripture  in  the  Latin  tongue,  and  then  expound 
it  in  the  vernacular ; 3  he  is  instructed  as  to  what  portions 
of  certain  sermons  should  be  used  under  special  circum- 
stances, and  what  parts  he  may  omit  in  winter  when  the 
church  is  cold,  or  when  in  summer  it  is  too  hot  ;  or  this  is 
left  quite  to  his  discretion  :  "  Here  make  an  end  if  you  wish  ; 
but  if  time  permits,  continue  thus." 

1  Since  allegory  and  the  spirit  of  symbolism  pervaded  all  mediaeval  thought, 
the  present  and  two  following  chapters  aim  only  at  setting  forth  the  elements 
(with  pertinent  examples)  of  this  quite  limitless  subject. 

2  See  prefatory  epistle  to  Speculum  ecclesiae,  Migne   172,  col.   813.     Com- 
pare  the    prefatory  epistle    to    the    Gemma  animae,    ibid.    col.    541,   and    the 
Preface  to  the  Elucidarium>  ibid.  col.    1109.      Probably  Honorius  died  about 
1130. 

3  We  have  these  sermons  only  in  Latin.      Presumably   a  preacher  using 
them,  gave  them  in  that  language  or  rendered  them  in  the  vernacular  as  he 
thought  fit. 


CHAP,  xxvn       SCRIPTURAL  ALLEGORIES  51 

Most  of  these  sermons  are  short,  and  contain  much 
excellent  moral  advice  put  simply  and  directly.  They  also 
make  constant  use  of  allegory,  and  evidently  Honorius's 
chief  care  in  their  composition  was  to  expound  his  text 
allegorically  and  point  the  allegory's  application  to  the  needs 
of  his  supposed  audience.  Neither  he  nor  any  man  of  his 
time  devised  many  novel  allegorical  interpretations  ;  but  the 
old  ones  had  at  length  become  part  of  the  mediaeval  spirit 
and  the  regular  means  of  apprehending  the  force  and 
meaning  of  Scripture.  Consequently  Honorius  handles  his 
allegories  more  easily,  and  makes  a  more  natural  human 
application  of  them,  than  Rabanus  or  Walafrid  had  done. 
Sometimes  the  allegory  seems  to  ignore  the  moral  lesson 
of  the  literal  facts  ;  but  while  a  smile  may  escape  us  in 
reading  Honorius,  the  allegories  in  his  sermons  are  rarely 
strained  and  shocking,  likewise  rarely  dull.  A  general 
point  from  which  he  regards  the  narratives  and  institutions 
of  the  Old  Testament  is  summed  up  in  his  statement,  that 
for  us  Christ  turned  all  provisions  of  the  law  into  spiritual 
sacraments.1  The  whole  Old  Testament  has  pre-figurative 
significance  and  spiritual  meaning  ;  and  likewise  every  narra- 
tive in  the  Gospels  is  spiritual. 

Two  or  three  examples  will  illustrate  Honorius's  edifying 
way  of  using  allegory.  His  sermon  for  the  eleventh  Sunday 
after  Pentecost  is  typical  of  his  manner.  The  text  is  from 
the  thirty-first "  Psalm  :  "  Blessed  is  the  man  to  whom  the 
Lord  will  not  impute  sin."  Opening  with  an  exhortation  to 
penitence  and  tears  and  almsgiving,  the  preacher  turns  to 
the  self-righteous  "  whose  obstinacy  the  Lord  curbs  in  the 
Gospel  for  the  day,  telling  how  two  went  up  into  the  temple 
to  pray,  the  one  a  Pharisee,  to  wit,  one  of  the  Jewish  clergy, 
the  other  a  Publican."  After  proceeding  for  a  while  with 
sound  and  obvious  comment  on  the  situation,  Honorius  says  : 

"  By  the  two  men  who  went  up  into  the  temple  to  pray,  two 
peoples,  the  Jewish  and  the  Gentile,  are  meant.  The  Pharisee  who 
went  close  to  the  altar  is  the  Jewish  people,  who  possessed  the 

1  "  Ommia  legalia  Christus  nobis  convertit  in  sacramenta  spiritualia  "  is 
Honorius's  apt  phrase  (which  may  be  borrowed  !),  Migne  172,  col.  842.  His 
special  reference  is  to  circumcision. 

a  Ps.  xxxi.  Vulgate ;  Ps.  xxxii.  2,  Authorized  Version. 


52  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  v 

Sanctuary  and  the  Ark.     He  tells  aloud  his  merits  in  the  temple, 
because  in  the  world  he  boasts  of  his  observance  of  the  law. 

"  The  Publican  who  stands  afar  off  is  the  Gentile  people,  who 
were  far  off  from  the  worship  of  God.  He  did  not  lift  up  his  eyes 
to  heaven,  because  the  Gentile  was  agape  at  the  things  of  earth.  He 
beat  his  breast  when  he  bewailed  his  error  through  penitence ;  and 
because  he  humbled  himself  in  confession,  God  exalted  him  through 
pardon.  Let  us  also,  beloved,  thus  stand  afar  off,  deeming  ourselves 
unworthy  of  the  holy  sacraments  and  the  companionship  of  the  saints. 
Let  us  not  lift  up  our  eyes  to  heaven,  but  deem  ourselves  unworthy 
of  it.  Let  us  beat  our  breasts  and  punish  our  misdeeds  with  tears. 
Let  us  fall  prostrate  before  God ;  and  let  us  weep  in  the  presence 
of  the  Lord  who  made  us,  so  that  He  may  turn  our  lament  to  joy, 
rend  asunder  our  garb  of  mourning,  and  clothe  us  with  happiness." 

Honorius  lingers  a  moment  with  some  further  exhortations 
suggested  by  his  parable,  and  then  turns  to  the  edification  to 
be  found  in  fables  wisely  composed  by  profane  writers.  Let 
not  the  congregation  be  scandalized  ;  for  the  children  of 
Israel  despoiled  the  Egyptians  of  gold  and  gems  and  precious 
vesture,  which  they  afterwards  devoted  to  completing  the 
tabernacle.  Pious  Christians  spoil  the  Egyptians  when  they 
turn  profane  studies  to  spiritual  account.  The  philosophers 
tell  of  a  woman  bound  to  a  revolving  wheel,  her  head  now 
up  now  down.  The  wheel  is  this  world's  glory,  and  the 
woman  is  that  fortune  which  depends  on  it.  Again,  they 
tell  of  one  who  tries  to  roll  a  stone  to  the  top  of  a  mountain  ; 
but,  near  the  top,  it  hurls  the  wretch  prostrate  with  its  weight 
and  crashes  back  to  the  bottom  ;  and  again,  of  one  whose 
liver  is  eaten  by  a  vulture,  and,  when  consumed,  grows 
again.  The  man  who  pushes  up  the  stone  is  he  who  toil- 
somely amasses  dignities,  to  be  plunged  by  them  to  hell  ; 
and  he  of  the  liver  is  the  man  upon  whose  heart  lust  feeds. 
From  that  pest,  they  say,  Medusa  sprang,  with  noble  form 
exciting  many  to  lust,  but  with  her  look  turning  them 
to  stone.  She  is  wantonness,  who  turns  to  stone  the  hearts 
of  the  lewd  through  their  lustful  pleasure.  Perseus  slew  her, 
covering  himself  with  his  crystalline  shield  ;  for  the  strong 
man,  gazing  into  virtue's  mirror,  averts  his  heart's  countenance 
(i.e.  from  wantonness).  The  sword  with  which  he  kills  her 
is  the  fear  of  everlasting  fire. 

Then,  continues  Honorius,  we  read  of  a  boy  brought  up 


CHAP,  xxvn       SCRIPTURAL  ALLEGORIES  53 

by  one  of  the  Fathers  in  a  hermitage ;  but  as  he  grew  to 
youth  he  was  tickled  with  lust.  The  Father  commanded 
him  to  go  alone  into  the  desert  and  pass  forty  days  in 
fasting  and  prayer.  When  some  twenty  days  had  passed, 
there  appeared  a  naked  woman  foul  and  stinking,  who  thrust 
herself  upon  him,  and  he,  unable  to  endure  her  stench,  began 
to  repel  her.  At  which  she  asked  :  "  Why  do  you  shudder 
at  the  sight  of  me  for  whom  you  burned  ?  I  am  the  image 
of  lust,  which  appears  sweet  to  men's  hearts.  If  you  had 
not  obeyed  the  Father,  you  would  have  been  overthrown  by 
me  as  others  have  been."  So  he  thanked  God  for  snatching 
him  from  the  spirit  of  fornication.  Many  other  examples 
lead  us  to  the  path  of  life. 

Honorius  closes  with  the  story  of  the  "Three  Fools," 
observed  by  a  certain  Father  :  the  first  an  Ethiopian  who  was 
unable  to  move  a  faggot  of  wood,  which  he  would  continually 
unbind  and  make  still  heavier  by  adding  further  sticks ;  the 
second,  a  man  pouring  water  into  a  vase  which  had  no 
bottom  ;  and,  thirdly,  the  two  men  who  came  bearing  before 
them  crosswise  a  beam  of  wood  ;  as  they  neared  the  city  gate 
neither  would  let  the  other  precede  him  even  a  little,  and  so 
both  remained  without.  The  Ethiopian  who  adds  to  his  insup- 
portable faggot  is  he  who  continually  increases  his  weight  of 
sin,  adding  new  sins  to  old  ones  unrepented  of;  he  who  pours 
water  into  the  vase  with  no  bottom  is  he  who  by  his  unclean- 
ness  loses  the  merit  of  his  good  acts  ;  and  the  two  who  bear 
the  beam  crosswise  are  those  bound  by  the  yoke  of  Pride.1 

Such  are  good  examples  of  the  queer  stories  to  which 
preachers  resorted.  One  notices  that  whatever  be  the  source 
from  which  Honorius  draws,  his  interest  is  always  in  the 
allegory  found  in  the  narratives.  Another  very  apt  example 
of  his  manner  is  his  treatment  of  the  story  of  the  Good 
Samaritan,  so  often  depicted  on  Gothic  church  windows. 
For  us  this  parable  carries  an  exhaustless  wealth  of  direct 
application  in  human  life  ;  it  was  regarded  very  differently 
by  Honorius  and  the  glass  painters,  whose  windows  are  a 
pictorial  transcription  of  the  first  half  of  his  sermon.2 

1  Speculum  ecclesiae,  "Dominica  XL"  (Migne  172,  col.  1053  sqq.).  . 

2  Yet,  curiously  enough,  near  the  time  when  I  was  making  the  following 
translation,  I  heard  an  elderly  country  clergyman  preach  substantially  this  sermon 


54  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  v 

"  Blessed  is  the  man  who  walketh  not  in  the  counsel  of 
the  ungodly  " — this  is  the  text ;  and  Honorius  proceeds  : 

"Adam  was  the  unhappy  man  who  through  the  counsel  of  the 
wicked  departed  from  his  native  land  of  Paradise  and  dragged  all 
his  descendants  into  this  exile.  He  thus  stood  in  the  way  of  sinners, 
because  he  remained  stable  in  sin.  He  sat  'in  the  seat  of  the 
scornful,'  because  by  evil  example  he  taught  others  to  sin.  But 
Christ  arose,  the  blessed  man  who  walketh  in  the  counsel  of  the 
Father  from  the  hall  of  heaven  into  prison  after  the  lost  servant. 
He  did  not  walk  in  the  counsel  of  the  ungodly  when  the  devil 
showed  Him  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world ;  He  did  not  stand  in  the 
way  of  sinners,  because  He  committed  no  sin  ;  He  did  not  sit  in  the 
seat  of  the  scornful,  since  neither  by  word  nor  deed  did  He  teach 
evil.  Thus  as  that  unhappy  man  drew  all  his  carnal  children  into 
death,  this  blessed  man  brought  all  His  sons  to  life.  As  He  himself 
sets  forth  in  the  Gospel :  '  A  certain  man  went  down  from  Jerusalem 
to  Jericho,  and  robbers  attacked  and  wounded  him,  stripped  him 
and  went  away.  And  by  chance  there  came  that  way  a  certain 
priest,  who  seeing  him  half-dead,  crossed  to  the  other  side.  Like- 
wise a  Levite  passed  by  when  he  had  seen  him.  But  a  Samaritan 
coming  that  same  way,  had  compassion  on  the  poor  wretch,  bound 
up  his  wounds  and  poured  in  oil  and  wine,  and  setting  him  on  his 
own  beast,  brought  him  to  an  inn.  The  next  day  he  gave  the  inn- 
keeper two  pence  and  asked  that  he  care  for  him,  and  if  more  was 
needed  He  promised  to  repay  the  innkeeper  on  His  return. 

"  Surely  man  went  down  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho  when  our 
first  parent  from  the  joys  of  Paradise  entered  death's  eclipse.  For 
Jericho,  which  means  moon,  designates  the  eclipse  of  our  mortality. 
Whereby  man  fell  among  thieves,  since  a  swarm  of  demons  at  once 
surrounded  the  exile.  Wherefore  also  they  despoiled  him,  since 
they  stripped  him  of  the  riches  of  Paradise  and  the  garment  of 
immortality.  They  gave  him  wounds,  for  sins  flowed  in  upon  him. 
They  left  him  half-dead,  because  dead  in  soul.  The  priest  passed 
down  the  same  way,  as  the  Order  of  Patriarchs  proceeded  along  the 
path  of  mortality.  The  priest  left  him  wounded,  having  no  power 
to  aid  the  human  race  while  himself  sore  wounded  with  sins.  The 
Levite  went  that  way,  inasmuch  as  the  Order  of  Prophets  also  had 
to  tread  the  path  of  death.  He  too  passed  by  the  wounded  man, 
because  he  could  bear  no  human  aid  to  the  lost  while  himself 
groaning  under  the  wounds  of  sin.  The  wretch  half-dead  was 
healed  by  the  Samaritan,  for  the  man  set  apart  through  Christ  is 
made  whole. 

"  Samaria  was  the  chief  city  of  the  Israelitish  kingdom  whose 

of   Honorius — wherever   he   may   have   culled    it,    perhaps   from   some    useful 
"  Homiletical  "  Commentary. 


CHAP,  xxvii       SCRIPTURAL  ALLEGORIES  55 

chiefs  were  led  away  to  idolatry  in  Nineveh,  and  Gentiles  were 
placed  in  her.  The  Jews  abhorred  their  fellowship,  making  them  a 
byword  of  malediction.  So  when  reviling  the  Lord,  they  called 
Him  a  Samaritan.  The  Lord  was  the  true  Samaritan,  being  called 
guardian  (custos)  since  the  human  race  is  guarded  by  Him.  He 
went  down  this  way  when  from  heaven  He  came  into  this  world. 
He  saw  the  wounded  traveller,  inasmuch  as  He  saw  man  held  in 
misery  and  sin.  He  was  moved  with  compassion  for  him,  since  for 
man  He  undergoes  all  pains.  Approaching,  He  bound  his  wounds 
when,  proclaiming  eternal  life,  He  taught  man  to  cease  from  sin. 
He  bound  his  wounds  together  with  the  two  parts  of  the  bandage 
when  He  quelled  sins  through  two  fears — the  servile  fear  which  for- 
bids through  penalties,  and  the  filial  fear  which  exhorts  the  holy  to 
good  works.  He  drew  tight  the  lower  part  of  the  bandage  when 
He  struck  men's  hearts  with  fear  of  hell.  Their  worm,  He  said, 
does  not  die,  and  their  fire  is  not  quenched.  He  drew  tight  the 
upper  part  when  He  taught  the  fear  which  belongs  to  the  study  of 
good.  '  The  children  of  the  kingdom,'  said  He,  '  shall  be  cast  into 
outer  darkness,  where  there  is  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth.'  He 
poured  in  wine  and  oil  when  He  taught  repentance  and  pardon. 
He  poured  in  wine  when  He  said,  '  Repent  ye ' ;  He  added  oil  when 
He  said,  '  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand.'  He  set  him  upon 
His  beast  when  He  bore  our  sins  in  His  body  on  the  Cross.  He 
led  him  to  the  inn  when  He  joined  him  to  the  supernal  Church. 
The  inn,  in  which  living  beings  are  assembled  at  night,  is  the  present 
Church,  where  the  just  are  harboured  amid  the  darkness  of  this  life 
until  the  Day  of  Eternity  blows  and  the  shadows  of  mortality  give 
way. 

"  The  next  day  He  tendered  the  two  pence.  The  first  day  was 
of  death,  the  next  of  life.  The  day  of  death  began  with  Adam, 
when  all  die.  The  day  of  life  took  its  beginning  from  Christ,  in 
whom  all  shall  be  made  alive.  Before  Christ's  resurrection  all  men 
were  travelling  to  death  ;  since  His  resurrection  all  the  faithful  have 
been  rising  to  life.  He  tendered  the  two  pence  the  next  day — 
when  after  His  resurrection  He  taught  that  the  two  Testaments  were 
fulfilled  by  the  two  precepts  of  love.  He  gave  the  pence  to  the 
innkeeper  when  He  committed  the  doctrine  of  the  law  of  life  to  the 
Order  of  Doctors.  He  directed  him  to  tend  the  sick  man  when  He 
commanded  that  the  human  race  should  be  saved  from  sin.  The 
stench  drove  the  sick  man  from  the  inn,  because  this  world's 
tribulation  drives  the  righteous  to  seek  the  things  celestial.  Two 
pence  are  given  to  the  innkeeper  when  the  Doctors  are  raised  on 
high  by  Scriptural  knowledge  and  temporal  honour.  If  they  should 
require  more,  He  repays  them  on  His  return ;  for  if  they  exemplify 
good  preaching  with  good  works,  when  the  true  Samaritan  returns 
to  judgment  and  leads  him,  aforetime  wounded  but  now  healed, 


56  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

from  the  inn  to  the  celestial  mansion,  He  will  repay  the  zealous 
stewards  with  eternal  rewards." l 

Here  Honorius  proceeds  to  expound  the  allegory  con- 
tained in  the  healing  of  the  dumb  man  and  the  ten  lepers, 
and  closes  his  sermon  with  two  narratives,  one  of  a  poor 
idiot  who  sang  the  Gloria  without  ceasing,  and  was  seen  in 
glory  after  death  ;  the  other  of  a  lay  nun  (conversa)  around 
whose  last  hours  were  shed  sweet  odours  and  a  miraculous 
light,  while  those  present  heard  the  chant  of  heavenly  voices. 

The  parables  of  Christ  present  types  which  we  may 
apply  in  life  according  to  circumstances.  In  the  concrete 
instance  of  the  parable  we  find  the  universal,  and  we  deem 
Christ  meant  it  so.  Thus  we  also  view  the  parables  as 
symbols,  which  they  were.  Honorius,  with  the  vast  company 
of  mediaeval  and  patristic  expounders,  ordinarily  directs  the 
symbolism  of  the  parables  in  a  special  mode,  whereby — like 
the  stories  of  the  Old  Testament — they  become  figurative  of 
Christ  and  the  needy  soul  of  man,  or  figurative  of  the 
Christian  dispensation  with  its  historical  antecedents  and  its 
Day  of  Judgment  at  the  end. 

The  like  may  be  said  of  Honorius's  allegorical  interpreta- 
tion of  Greek  legends.  These  ancient  stories  have  the 
perennial  youth  of  human  charm  and  meaning  ever  new. 
They  had  been  good  old  stories  to  the  Greeks,  and  then 
acquired  further  intendment  as  later  men  discerned  a  broader 
symbolism  in  them.  Even  in  classic  times,  Homer's  stories 
had  been  turned  to  allegories,  philosophers  and  critics  some- 
times finding  in  them  a  spiritual  significance  not  unlike  that 
which  the  same  tales  may  bear  for  us.  But  with  this 
difference :  the  later  Greeks  usually  were  trying  to  explain 
away  the  somewhat  untrammelled  ways  of  the  Homeric 
pantheon,  and  therefore  maintained  that  Homer's  stories  were 
composed  as  allegories,  the  wise  and  mystic  poet  choosing 
thus  to  veil  his  meaning.  To-day  we  find  the  clarity  of 
daybreak  in  Homer's  tales,  and  if  we  make  symbols  of  them 
we  know  the  symbolism  is  not  his  but  ours.  Honorius 
chooses  to  think  that  allegory  had  always  lain  in  the  old 
story  ;  he  will  not  deem  it  the  invention  of  himself  or  other 

1  Speculum  eccle siae,  "  Dominica  XIII."  (Migne  172,  col.  1059-1061). 


CHAP,  xxvii       SCRIPTURAL  ALLEGORIES  57 

Christian  writers.  Here  his  attitude  is  not  unlike  that  of  the 
apologetic  Greek  critics.  But  his  interpretations  are  apt  to 
differ  from  theirs  as  well  as  from  our  own.  For  his  symbolism 
tends  to  abandon  the  broadly  human,  and  to  become,  like 
the  mediaeval  Biblical  interpretations,  figurative  of  the  tenets 
of  the  Christian  Faith. 

There  is  an  interesting  example  of  this  in  the  sermon  for 
Septuagesima  Sunday,  which  was  written  on  a  somewhat 
blind  text  from  the  twenty-eighth  chapter  of  Job.  Honorius 
proceeds  expounding  it  through  a  number  of  strained 
allegories,  which  he  doubtless  drew  from  Gregory's  Moralia ; 
for  that  great  pope  was  the  recognized  expositor  of  Job,  and 
the  Book  of  Job  was  simply  Gregory  through  all  the  Middle 
Ages.  Perhaps  Honorius  felt  that  this  sermon  was  rather 
soporific.  At  all  events  he  stops  in  the  middle  to  give  a 
piece  of  advice  to  the  supposed  preacher :  "  Often  put  some- 
thing of  this  kind  in  your  sermon  ;  for  so  you  will  relieve 
the  tedium."  And  he  continues  thus  : 

"Brethren,  on  this  holy  day  there  is  much  to  say  which  I 
must  pass  over  in  silence,  lest  disgusted  you  should  wish  to  leave 
the  church  before  the  end.  For  some  of  you  have  come  far  and 
must  go  a  long  way  to  reach  your  houses.  Or  perhaps,  some 
have  guests  at  home,  or  crying  babies ;  or  others  are  not  swift  and 
have  to  go  elsewhere,  while  to  some  a  bodily  infirmity  brings 
uneasiness  lest  they  expose  themselves.  So  I  omit  much  for  every- 
body's sake,  but  still  would  say  a  few  words. 

"  Because  to-day,  beloved,  we  have  laid  aside  the  song  of  glad- 
ness and  taken  up  the  song  of  sadness,  I  would  briefly  tell  you 
something  from  the  books  of  the  pagans,  to  show  how  you  should 
reject  the  melody  of  this  world's  pleasures  in  order  that  hereafter 
with  the  angels  you  may  make  sweet  harmonies  in  heaven.  For 
one  should  pick  up  a  gem  found  in  dung  and  set  it  as  a  kingly 
ornament ;  thus  if  we  find  anything  useful  in  pagan  books  we 
should  turn  it  to  the  building  up  of  the  Church,  which  is  Christ's 
spouse.  The  wise  of  this  world  write  that  there  were  three  Syrens 
in  an  island  of  the  sea,  who  used  to  chant  the  sweetest  song  in  divers 
tones.  One  sang,  another  piped,  the  third  played  upon  a  lyre. 
They  had  the  faces  of  women,  the  talons  and  wings  of  birds. 
They  stopped  all  passing  ships  with  the  sweetness  of  their  song ; 
they  rent  the  sailors  heavy  with  sleep ;  they  sank  the  ships  in  the 
brine.  When  a  certain  duke,  Ulysses,  had  to  sail  by  their  island, 
he  ordered  his  comrades  to  bind  him  to  the  mast  and  stuff  their 
ears  with  wax.  Thus  he  escaped  the  peril  unharmed,  and  plunged 


58  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

the  Syrens  in  the  waves.  These,  beloved,  are  mysteries,  although 
written  by  the  enemies  of  Christ.  By  the  sea  is  to  be  understood 
this  age  which  rolls  beneath  the  unceasing  blasts  of  tribulations. 
The  island  is  earth's  joy,  which  is  intercepted  by  crowding  pains, 
as  the  shore  is  beat  upon  by  crowding  waves.  The  three  Syrens 
who  with  sweet  caressing  song  overturn  the  navigators  in  sleep,  are 
three  delights  which  soften  men's  hearts  for  vice  and  lead  them  into 
the  sleep  of  death.  She  who  sings  with  human  voice  is  Avarice, 
and  to  her  hearers  thus  she  tunes  her  song :  '  Thou  shouldst  get 
together  much,  so  as  to  be  able  to  spread  wide  thy  fame,  and  also 
visit  the  Lord's  sepulchre  and  other  places,  restore  churches,  aid 
the  poor  and  thy  relatives  as  well.'  With  such  baneful  song  she 
charms  the  miser's  heart,  until  the  sleep  of  death  oppresses  him. 
Then  she  tears  his  flesh,  the  wave  devours  the  ship,  and  the  wretch 
by  fierce  pains  is  waked  from  his  riches  and  plunged  in  eternal 
flame.  She  who  plays  upon  the  pipe  is  Vainglory  (Jactantia),  and 
thus  she  pipes  her  lay  for  hers  :  '  Thou  art  in  thy  youth,  and  noble ; 
make  thyself  appear  glorious.  Spare  no  enemies,  but  kill  them  all 
when  able.  Then  people  will  call  thee  a  good  knight.'  Again  will 
she  chant :  '  Thou  shouldst  win  Jerusalem,  and  give  great  alms. 
Then  thou  wilt  be  famous,  and  wilt  be  called  good  by  all.'  To  the 
lay  brethren  (conversis)  she  sings :  '  Thou  must  fast  and  pray 
always,  singing  with  loud  voice.  Then  wilt  thou  hear  thyself 
lauded  as  a  saint  by  all.'  Such  song  with  vain  heart  she  makes 
resound  till  the  whirlpool  of  death  devours  the  wretch  emptied  of 
worth. 

"She  who  sings  to  a  lyre  is  Wantonness  (Luxuria),  and  she 
chants  melodies  like  these  to  her  parasites :  '  Thou  art  in  thy 
youth ;  now  is  the  time  to  sport  with  the  girls — old  age  will  do  to 
reform  in.  Here  is  one  with  a  fine  figure ;  this  one  is  rich ;  from 
this  one  you  would  gain  much.  There  is  plenty  of  time  to  save 
your  soul.'  In  such  way  she  melts  the  hearts  of  the  wanton  till 
Cocytus's  waves  engulf  them  suddenly  tripped  by  death. 

"  They  have  the  faces  of  women,  because  nothing  so  estranges 
man  from  God  as  the  love  of  women.  They  have  wings  of  birds, 
because  the  desire  of  worldlings  is  always  unstable,  their  appetites 
now  craving  one  thing,  and  again  their  lust  flying  to  another  object. 
They  have  also  the  talons  of  birds,  because  they  tear  their  victims 
as  they  snatch  them  away  to  the  torments  of  hell.  Ulysses  is 
called  Wise.  Unharmed  he  steers  his  course  by  the  island,  because 
the  truly  wise  Christian  swims  over  the  sea  of  this  world,  in  the 
ship  of  the  Church.  By  the  fear  of  God  he  binds  himself  to  the 
mast  of  the  ship,  that  is,  to  the  cross  of  Christ ;  with  wax,  that  is 
with  the  incarnation  of  Christ,  he  seals  the  ears  of  his  comrades, 
that  they  may  turn  their  hearts  from  lusts  and  vices  and  yearn  only 
for  heavenly  things.  The  Syrens  are  submerged,  because  he  is 


CHAP,  xxvii       SCRIPTURAL  ALLEGORIES  59 

protected  from  their  lusts  by  the  strength  of  the  Spirit.  Unharmed 
the  voyagers  avoid  the  peril,  inasmuch  as  through  victory  they 
reach  the  joys  of  the  saints." l 

1  Speculum  ecclesiae,  "Dominica  in  Septuagesima"  (Migne  172,  col.  855-857). 
Honorius  may  have  forgotten  the  weariness  of  his  supposed  audience ;  for  his 
sermon  goes  on  with  further  admonition  as  to  how  the  victory  is  to  be  won. 

The  allegorical  interpretation  of  Scripture  is  exemplified  in  the  whole  limitless 
mass  of  mediaeval  sermons.  Illustrations  from  St.  Bernard's  sermons  on  Canticles 
are  given  in  Chapter  XVII.,  also/0rt,  in  Chapter  XXXVI. ,  n. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

THE    RATIONALE   OF    THE   VISIBLE   WORLD  :    HUGO   OF 
ST.  VICTOR 

JUST  as  the  Middle  Ages  followed  the  allegorical  interpreta- 
tion of  Scripture  elaborated  by  the  Church  Fathers,  so  they 
also  accepted,  and  even  made  more  precise,  the  patristic 
inculcation  of  the  efficacy  of  such  most  potent  symbols  as  the 
water  of  baptism  and  the  bread  and  wine  transubstantiated 
in  the  Eucharist1  Passing  onward  from  these  mighty  bases 
of  conviction,  the  mediaeval  genius  made  fertile  use  of 
allegory  in  the  polemics  of  Church  and  State,  and  exalted 
the  symbolical  principle  into  an  ultimate  explanation  of  the 
visible  universe. 

Notable  was  the  career  of  allegory  in  politics.  Through- 
out the  long  struggle  of  the  Papacy  with  the  Empire  and 
other  secular  monarchies,  arguments  drawn  from  allegory 
never  ceased  to  carry  weight.  A  very  shibboleth  was  the 
witness  of  the  "  two  swords  "  (Luke  xxii.  38),  both  of  which, 
the  temporal  as  well  as  spiritual,  the  Church  held  to  have 
been  entrusted  to  her  keeping  for  the  ordering  of  earthly 
affairs,  to  the  end  that  men's  souls  should  be  saved.  Still 
more  fluid  was  the  argumentative  nostrum  of  mankind  con- 
ceived as  an  Organism,  or  animate  body  (unum  corpus, 
corpus  mysticum).  This  metaphor  was  found  in  more  than 
one  of  the  Latin  classics  ;  but  patristic  and  mediaeval  writers 
took  it  from  the  works  of  Paul.2  The  likeness  of  the  human 
body  to  the  body  politic  or  ecclesiastic  was  carried  out 

1  For  the  Eucharist  in  the  Carolingian  period  see  ante,  Chapter  X.    Berengar 
of  Tours  is  spoken  of  in  Chapter  XII.,  IV. 

2  Many  members  in  one  body,  one  body  in  Christ  (Rom.  xii.  4,  5). 

60 


CHAP,  xxvni     THE  SYMBOLIC   UNIVERSE  61 

in  every  imaginable  detail,  and  used  acutely  or  absurdly 
by  politicians  and  schoolmen  from  the  eleventh  century 
onward.1 

We  turn  to  the  symbolical  explanation  of  the  universe. 
In  the  first  half  of  the  twelfth  century,  a  profoundly  medita- 
tive soul,  Hugo  of  St.  Victor  by  name,  attempted  a  systematic 
exposition  of  the  symbolical  or  sacramental  plan  inhering  in 
God's  scheme  of  creation.  Of  the  man,  as  with  so  many 
monks  and  schoolmen  whose  names  and  works  survive,  little 
is  known  beyond  the  presentation  of  his  personality  afforded 
by  his  writings.  He  taught  in  the  monastic  school  of  St. 
Victor,  a  community  that  had  a  story,  with  which  may  be 
connected  the  scanty  facts  of  the  short  and  happy  pilgrimage 
to  God,  which  made  Hugo's  life  on  earth.2 

When  William  of  Champeaux,  according  to  Abaelard's 
account,  was  routed  from  his  logical  positions  in  the 
cathedral  school  of  Paris,3  he  withdrew  from  the  school 
and  from  the  city  to  the  quiet  of  a  secluded  spot  on  the 
left  bank  of  the  Seine,  not  far  distant  from  Notre-Dame. 
Here  was  an  ancient  chapel  dedicated  to  Saint- Victor,  and 
here  William,  with  some  companions,  organized  themselves 
into  a  monastic  community  according  to  the  rule  of  the 
canons  of  St.  Augustine.  This  was  in  1108.  If  for  a 
time  William  laid  aside  his  studies  and  lecturing,  he  soon 
resumed  them  at  the  solicitations  of  his  scholars,  joined  to 
those  of  his  friend  Hildebert,  Bishop  of  Le  Mans.4  And  so 
the  famous  school  of  Saint- Victor  began.  William  remained 
there  only  four  years,  being  made  Bishop  of  Chalons  in  1112, 
and  thereafter  figuring  prominently  in  Church  councils, 
frequent  in  France  at  this  epoch. 

1  Cf.  fast,  Chapter  XXXIII.,  v. 

2  The  works  of  Hugo  of  Saint-Victor  are  contained  in  Migne's  Patrologia 
Latino.,    175-177    (Paris,    1854;    the  reprint   of   1882    is   full   of  misprints). 
The  Prolegomena  (in   French)   of  Mgr.    Hugonin  are  elaborate  and  valuable. 
Mignon,   Les  Origints  de  la  scholastique  et  Hugues  de  Saint- Victor  (2  vols., 
Paris,  1895),  follows  Hugonin 's  writing  and  adds  little  of  value.     An  exposition 
of  Hugo's  philosophy  is  to  be  found  in  Stockl,   Geschichtt  der  Philosophic  des 
Mittelalters,  Band  I.  pp.  305-355  (Mainz,   1864).     On  the  authenticity  of  the 
writings  ascribed  to  him  see  Haur6au,  Le  s  (Euvres  de  Hugues  de  Saint-  Victor 
(2nd  ed.,  Paris,  1886).     For  Hugo's  position  in  the  history  of  scholasticism  and 
mysticism  see  post,  Chapter  XXXVI.,  n. 

3  Post,  Chapter  XXXI.,  I. 

4  Hildebert's  letter  is  given  post,  Chapter  XXX.,  III. 


62  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

Under  William's  disciple  and  successor,  Gilduin,  the 
community  flourished  and  increased.  King  Louis  VI., 
whose  confessor  was  Gilduin  himself,  endowed  it  liberally, 
and  other  donors  were  not  lacking.  Saint-Victor  became 
rich,  and  its  fame  for  learning  and  holiness  spread  far  and 
wide.1  Abbot  Gilduin  lived  to  see  more  than  forty  houses 
of  monks  or  regular  canons  2  flourishing  as  dependencies  of 
Saint- Victor.  He  died  in  1155,  some  years  after  the  death 
of  the  young  man  whose  scholarship  and  genius  was  the 
pride  of  the  Victorine  community. 

Notwithstanding  a  statement  in  an  old  manuscript,  that 
Hugo  was  born  near  Ypres  in  Flanders,  the  ancient  tradition 
of  Saint-Victor,  confirmed  by  the  records  of  the  cathedral  of 
Halberstadt,  shows  him  to  have  been  a  son  of  the  Count  of 
Blankemberg,  and  born  at  Hartingam  in  Saxony.3  His 
uncle  Reinhard  was  Bishop  of  Halberstadt,  where  his  great- 
uncle,  named  Hugo  like  himself,  was  archdeacon.  Reinhard 
had  been  a  pupil  of  William  of  Champeaux  at  Saint-Victor, 
and  after  becoming  bishop  continued  to  cherish  a  profound 
esteem  for  him.  The  young  Hugo  renounced  his  inheritance 
and  entered  a  monastery  not  far  from  Halberstadt ;  but 
soon,  in  view  of  the  disturbed  affairs  of  Saxony,  his  uncle 
Reinhard  urged  him  to  go  and  pursue  his  studies  at  Saint- 
Victor.  The  young  man  persuaded  his  great-uncle  Hugo 
to  accompany  him.  By  circuitous  routes,  visiting  various 
places  of  pious  interest  on  the  way,  the  two  reached  Saint- 
Victor,  where  they  were  received  with  all  honour  by  the 
abbot  Gilduin.  This  was  not  far  from  the  year  1115,  and 
Hugo  was  about  twenty  at  the  time.  He  was  already  an 
accomplished  scholar,  and  doubtless  it  is  to  his  previous 

1  On  the  neighbouring  schools   of  Notre-Dame  and  St.  Genevieve  see  post, 
Chapter  XXXVII. 

2  At  the  opening  of  his  Expositio  in  regulam  ieati  Augustini,  Migne  1 76, 
col.  88 1,  Hugo  explains  that  the  precepts  under  which  a  monastic  community 
lives  are  called  the  regula,  and  what  we  call  a  regula  is  called  a  canon  by  the 
Greeks;  and    those   are   called    canonici  or   regulares,    who    "juxta   regularia 
praecepta   sanctorum    Patrum  canonice   atque   apostolice  vivunL"      Thus    the 
"  regular  canons  "  of  St.  Augustine  were  monks  who  lived  according  to  the  rule 
ascribed  to  that  saint.     In  the  case  of  the  Victorines  the  rule  was  drawn  up 
chiefly  by  Abbot  Gilduin.     See  Prolegomena  to  the  works  of  Hugo,  Migne  175, 
col.  xxiv.  sqq. 

3  See  the  Prolegomena  to  the  works  of  Hugo  de  Saint-  Victor,  by  Hugonin, 
Migne  175,  col.  xl.  sqq. 


CHAP,  xxvni     THE  SYMBOLIC   UNIVERSE  63 

studies  that  he  refers  when  he  speaks  as  follows  in  his  book 
of  elementary  instruction,  called  the  Didascalicon  : 

"  I  dare  say  that  I  never  despised  anything  pertaining  to  learn- 
ing, and  learned  much  that  might  strike  others  as  light  and  vain. 
I  practised  memorizing  the  names  of  everything  I  saw  or  heard  of, 
thinking  that  I  could  not  properly  study  the  nature  of  things  unless 
I  knew  their  names.  Daily  I  examined  my  notes  of  topics,  that  I 
might  hold  in  my  memory  every  proposition,  with  the  questions, 
objections,  and  solutions.  I  would  inform  myself  as  to  con- 
troversies and  consider  the  proper  order  of  the  argument  on  either 
side,  carefully  distinguishing  what  pertained  to  the  office  of  rhetoric, 
oratory,  and  sophistry.  I  set  problems  of  numbers ;  I  drew  figures 
on  the  pavement  with  charcoal,  and  with  the  figure  before  me  I 
demonstrated  the  different  qualities  of  the  obtuse,  the  acute  and 
the  right  angle,  and  also  of  the  square.  Often  I  watched  out  the 
nocturnal  horoscope  through  winter  nights.  Often  I  strung  my 
harp  (Saepe  ad  numerum  protensum  in  ligno  magadam  ducere  solebam) 
that  I  might  perceive  the  different  sounds  and  likewise  delight  my 
mind  with  the  sweet  notes.  All  these  were  boyish  occupations 
(puerilia)  but  not  useless.  Nor  does  it  burden  my  stomach  to  know 
them  now." J 

Not  long  after  Hugo's  arrival  at  Saint-Victor  he  began 
to  teach  at  the  monastery  school,  and  upon  the  death  of  its 
director,  in  1133,  succeeded  to  the  office,  which  he  held 
until  his  death  in  I  I4i.2  Colourless  and  grey  are  the  outer 
facts  of  a  monk's  life,  counting  but  little.  The  soul  of  a 
Hugo  of  Saint- Victor  did  not  soil  itself  with  any  interest 
in  the  pleasures  of  the  world :  "  He  is  not  solitary  with 
whom  is  God,  nor  is  the  power  of  joy  extinguished  because 
his  appetite  is  kept  from  things  abject  and  vile.  He  rather 
does  himself  an  injustice  who  admits  to  the  society  of  his 
joy  what  is  disgraceful  or  unworthy  of  his  love."8 

Hugo  belonged  to  the  aristocracy  of  contemplative  piety, 
with  its  scorn  of  whatever  lies  without  the  pale  of  the  soul's 

1  Didascalicon,  vi.  3  (Migne  1 76,  col.  799).     Other  contents  of  this  work  are 
given  post,  Chapter  XXXVI.,  I. 

2  His   death   is   touchingly   described   in  a  letter  of  Osbert,  the  canon  in 
charge  of  the  infirmary.     See  Migne  175,  col.  xlvii  and  clxi. 

8  Hugo,  De  arrha  animae,  Migne  176,  col.  954.  Yet  Hugo  sometimes 
was  stung  with  an  irrelevant  pang  for  the  German  fatherland,  which  he  had  left  : 
"  I  have  been  an  exile  since  my  boyhood,  and  I  know  how  the  mind  grieves  to  for- 
sake some  poor  hut's  narrow  hearth,  and  how  easily  it  may  then  despise  the  marble 
hall  and  fretted  roof "  (Didascalicon,  iii.  20;  Migne  176,  col.  778).  Compare 
the  single  letter  of  Hugo  that  has  a  personal  note,  Ep.  i.  (Migne  176,  col.  ion). 


64  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

companionship  with  God.  In  his  independent  way  he 
followed  Augustine,  and  Augustine's  Platonism,  which  was 
so  largely  the  Neo-Platonism  of  Plotinus  and  Porphyry.  He 
also  followed  the  real  Plato  speaking  in  the  Timaeus,  with 
which  he  was  acquainted.  Plato  would  have  nothing  to  do 
with  allegorical  interpretation  as  a  defence  of  Homer's  gods  ; 
but  he  could  himself  make  very  pretty  allegories,  and  his 
theory  of  ideas  as  at  once  types  and  creative  intelligences 
lent  itself  to  Christian  systems  of  symbolism.  In  this  way 
he  was  a  spiritual  ancestor  of  Hugo,  who  found  in  God  the 
type-ideas  of  all  things  that  He  created.  Moreover,  if  not 
Plato,  at  least  his  spiritual  children — Clement  of  Alexandria, 
Origen,  Plotinus — recognized  that  the  highest  truths  must 
be  known  in  modes  transcending  reason  and  its  syllogisms, 
although  these  were  the  necessary  avenues  of  approach. 
Hugo  likewise  regarded  rational  knowledge  as  but  the 
path  by  which  the  soul  ascends  to  the  plateau  of  con- 
templation. The  general  aspects  of  his  philosophy  will  be 
considered  in  a  later  chapter.  Here  he  is  to  be  viewed  as 
a  mediaeval  symbolist,  upon  whom  pressed  a  sense  of  the 
symbolism  of  all  visible  things.  An  examination  of  his 
great  De  sacramentis  Christianae  fidei  will  disclose  that 
with  Hugo  the  material  creation  in  its  deepest  verity  is  a 
symbol ;  that  Scripture,  besides  its  literal  meaning,  is  allegory 
from  Genesis  to  Revelation  ;  that  the  means  of  salvation 
provided  by  the  Church  are  sacramental,  and  thus  essentially 
symbolical,  consisting  of  perfected  and  potent  symbols  which 
have  been  shadowed  forth  in  the  unperfected  sacramental 
character  of  all  God's  works  from  the  beginning.1 

Hugo's  little  Preface  (praefatiuncula)  mentions  certain 
requests  made  to  him  to  write  a  book  on  the  Sacraments. 
In  undertaking  it,  he  proposes  to  present  in  better  form 
many  things  dictated  from  time  to  time  rather  negligently. 
Whatever  he  has  taken  from  his  previous  writings  he  has 
revised  as  seemed  best.  Should  there  appear  any  in- 
consistency between  what  he  may  have  said  elsewhere  and 
the  language  of  the  present  work,  he  begs  the  reader  to 
regard  the  present  as  the  better  form  of  statement.  His 

1  The  De  sacramentis  Christianae  fidei  is  printed  in  Migne  176,  col.  174- 
6 1 8.      It  is  thus  a  lengthy  work. 


CHAP,  xxvui     THE  SYMBOLIC   UNIVERSE  65 

method  will  be  to  treat  his  matter  in  the  order  of  time  ; 
and  to  this  end  his  work  is  divided  into  two  Books. 
The  first  discusses  the  subject  from  the  Beginning  of  the 
World  until  the  Incarnation  of  the  Word ;  the  second 
continues  it  from  the  Incarnation  to  the  final  Consummation 
of  all  things.  He  explains  that  as  he  has  elsewhere  spoken 
at  length  upon  the  primary  or  historical  meaning  of  Holy 
Writ,1  he  will  devote  himself  here  rather  to  its  secondary  or 
allegorical  significance. 

Hugo  further  explains  the  subject  of  his  treatise  in  a 
Prologue : 

"The  work  of  man's  restoration  is  the  subject-matter  (materia) 
of  all  the  Scriptures.  There  are  two  works,  the  work  of  foundation 
and  the  work  of  restoration,  which  include  everything  whatsoever. 
The  former  is  the  creation  of  the  world  with  all  its  elements ;  the 
latter  is  the  incarnation  of  the  Word  with  all  its  sacraments,  those 
which  went  before  from  the  beginning  and  those  which  follow  even 
to  the  end  of  the  world.  For  the  incarnate  Word  is  our  King,  who 
came  into  this  world  to  fight  the  devil.  And  all  the  saints  who 
were  before  His  coming,  were  as  soldiers  going  before  His  face ;  and 
those  who  have  come  and  will  come  after,  until  the  end  of  the  world, 
are  as  soldiers  who  follow  their  king.  He  is  the  King  in  the  centre 
of  His  army,  advancing  girt  by  His  troops.  And  although  in  such 
a  multitude  divers  shapes  of  arms  appear  in  the  sacraments  and 
observances  of  those  who  precede  and  come  after,  yet  all  are  soldiers 
under  one  king  and  follow  one  banner;  they  pursue  one  enemy 
and  with  one  victory  are  crowned.  In  all  of  this  may  be  observed 
the  work  of  restoration. 

"  Scripture  gives  first  a  brief  account  of  the  work  of  creation. 
For  it  could  not  aptly  show  how  man  was  restored  unless  it  had 
previously  explained  how  he  had  fallen ;  nor  could  it  show  how  he 
had  fallen,  without  first  showing  how  God  had  made  him,  for  which 
in  turn  it  was  necessary  to  set  forth  the  creation  of  the  whole  world, 
because  the  world  was  made  for  man.  The  spirit  was  created  for 
God's  sake ;  the  body  for  the  spirit's  sake,  and  the  world  for  the 
body's  sake,  so  that  the  spirit  might  be  subject  to  God,  the  body 
to  the  spirit,  and  the  world  to  the  body.  In  this  order,  therefore, 
Holy  Scripture  describes  first  the  creation  of  the  world  which  was 

1  Hugo  evidently  refers  to  his  De  Scriptoria  et  scriptoribus  sacris  prae- 
notatiunculae,  and  his  various  Adnotationes  elucidatoriae,  which  will  be  found 
printed  in  vol.  175  of  Migne's  Patrologia  Latina.  In  chap.  v.  of  the  work  first 
mentioned  (Migne  175,  col.  13)  he  speaks  sensibly  of  the  folly  of  those  who 
profess  not  to  care  for  the  literal  historical  meaning  of  the  sacred  text,  but,  in 
ignorance,  spring  at  once  to  very  inept  allegorical  interpretations. 

VOL.  II  F 


66  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

made  for  man ;  then  it  tells  how  man  was  made  and  set  in  the  way 
of  righteousness  and  discipline ;  after  that,  how  man  fell ;  and 
finally  how  he  was  restored  (reparatus)" 

In  these  first  little  chapters  of  his  Prologue,  Hugo  has 
grouped  his  topics  suggestively.  The  world  was  made  for 
man,  and  therefore  the  account  of  its  creation  is  needed  in 
order  to  understand  man.  Moreover,  that  man's  body  exists 
for  his  spirit's  sake,  at  once  suggests  that  a  significance 
beyond  the  literal  meaning  is  likely  to  dwell  in  that  account 
of  the  material  creation  which  enables  us  to  understand 
man.  The  soul  needs  instruction  and  guidance ;  and  God 
in  creating  the  world  for  man  surely  had  in  view  his  most 
important  interests,  which  were  not  those  of  his  mortal  body, 
but  those  of  his  soul.  So  the  creation  of  the  world  subserves 
man's  spiritual  interests,  and  the  divine  account  of  it  carries 
spiritual  instruction.  The  allegorical  significance  of  the 
world's  creation,  which  answers  to  man's  spiritual  needs,  is 
as  veritable  and  real  as  the  facts  of  the  world's  material 
foundation,  which  answers  to  the  needs  of  his  body.  Thus 
symbolism  is  rooted  in  the  character  and  purpose  of  the 
material  creation  ;  it  lies  in  the  God-implanted  nature  of 
things ;  therefore  the  allegorical  interpretation  of  the 
Scriptures  corresponds  to  their  deepest  meaning  and  the 
revealed  plan  of  God. 

These  principles  underlie  Hugo's  exposition  of  the 
Christian  sacraments,  whose  unperfected  prototypes  existed 
in  the  work  of  the  Creation.  No  fact  of  sacred  history,  no 
single  righteous  pre-Christian  observance,  was  unaffiliated 
with  them.  An  adequate  understanding  of  their  nature 
involves  a  full  knowledge  not  only  of  Christian  doctrine,  but 
of  all  other  knowledge  profitable  to  men — as  Hugo  clearly 
indicates  in  the  remaining  portion  of  his  Prologue : 

"Whence  it  appears  how  much  divine  Scripture  in  subtle 
profundity  surpasses  all  other  writings,  not  only  in  its  matter  but  in 
the  way  of  treating  it.  In  other  writings  the  words  alone  carry 
meaning :  in  Scripture  not  only  the  words,  but  the  things  may  mean 
something.  Wherefore  just  as  a  knowledge  of  the  words  is  needed 
in  order  to  know  what  things  are  signified,  so  a  knowledge  of  the 
things  is  needed  in  order  to  determine  their  mystical  signification 
of  other  things  which  have  been  or  ought  to  be  done.  The 


CHAP,  xxviir     THE  SYMBOLIC   UNIVERSE  67 

knowledge  of  words  falls  under  two  heads:  expression,  and  the 
substance  of  their  meaning.  Grammar  relates  only  to  expression, 
dialectic  only  to  meaning,  while  rhetoric  relates  to  both.  A 
knowledge  of  things  requires  a  knowledge  of  their  form  and  of 
their  nature.  Form  consists  in  external  configuration,  nature  in 
internal  quality.  Form  is  treated  as  number,  to  which  arithmetic 
applies ;  or  as  proportion,  to  which  music  applies  ;  or  as  dimension, 
to  which  geometry  applies ;  or  as  motion,  to  which  pertains 
astronomy.  But  physics  (physica)  looks  to  the  inner  nature  of 
things. 

"It  follows  that  all  the  natural  arts  serve  divine  science,  and 
the  lower  knowledge  rightly  ordered  leads  to  the  higher.  History, 
i.e.  the  historical  meaning,  is  that  in  which  words  signify  things,  and 
its  servants,  as  already  said,  are  the  three  sciences,  grammar,  dialectic, 
and  rhetoric.  When,  however,  things  signify  facts  mystically,  we 
have  allegory ;  and  when  things  mystically  signify  what  ought  to  be 
done,  we  have  tropology.  These  two  are  served  by  arithmetic, 
music,  geometry,  astronomy,  and  physics.  Above  and  beyond  all  is 
that  divine  something  to  which  divine  Scripture  leads,  either  in 
allegory  or  tropology.  Of  this  the  one  part  (which  is  in  allegory) 
is  right  faith,  and  the  other  (which  is  in  tropology)  is  good 
conduct :  in  these  consist  knowledge  of  truth  and  love  of  virtue, 
and  this  is  the  true  restoration  of  man." l 

Hugo  has  now  stated  his  position.  The  rationale  of  the 
world's  creation  lies  in  the  nature  of  man.  The  Seven 
Liberal  Arts,  and  incidentally  all  human  knowledge,  in  hand- 
maidenly  manner,  promote  an  understanding  of  man  as  well 
as  of  the  saving  teaching  contained  in  Scripture.  This  was 
the  common  mediaeval  view  ;  but  Hugo  proves  it  through 
application  of  the  principles  of  symbolism  and  allegorical 
interpretation.  By  these  instruments  he  orders  the  arts  and 
sciences  according  to  their  value  in  his  Christian  system,  and 
makes  all  human  knowledge  subserve  the  intellectual  economy 
of  the  soul's  progress  to  God. 

An  exposition  of  the  Work  of  the  Six  Days  opens  the 
body  of  Hugo's  treatise.  God  created  all  things  from 
nothing,  and  at  once.  His  creation  was  at  first  unformed  ; 
not  absolutely  formless,  but  in  the  form  of  confusion,  out  of 
which  in  the  six  days  He  wrought  the  form  of  ordered  dis- 
position. The  first  creation  included  the  matter  of  corporeal 

1  De  sacramentis,  Prologus  (Migne  176,  col.  183-185).  A  more  elementary 
statement  may  be  found  in  De  Scripturist  etc.,  cap.  xiii.  (Migne  175,  col.  20). 


68  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

things  and  (in  the  angelic  nature)  the  essence  of  things 
invisible  ;  for  the  rational  creature  may  be  said  to  be  un- 
formed until  it  take  form  through  turning  unto  its  Creator, 
whereby  it  gains  beauty  and  blessedness  from  Him  through 
the  conversion  which  is  of  love.  Thus  the  matter  of  every 
corporeal  thing  which  God  afterwards  made,  existed  from 
the  time  of  His  first  creation,  and  likewise  the  image  of 
everything  invisible.  For  although  new  souls  are  still 
created  every  day,  their  image  existed  previously  in  the 
angelic  spirits. 

Then  God  made  light,  the  unformed  material  of  which 
He  had  created  in  the  beginning. 

"  And  at  the  very  moment  when  light  was  visibly  and  corporeally 
separated  from  darkness,  the  good  angels  were  invisibly  set  apart 
from  the  wicked  angels  who  were  falling  in  the  darkness  of  sin. 
The  good  were  illumined  and  converted  to  the  light  of  righteousness, 
that  they  might  be  light  and  not  darkness.  Thus  we  ought  to 
perceive  a  consonance  in  the  works  of  God,  the  visible  work  con- 
forming to  the  issue  of  the  invisible  in  such  wise  that  the  Wisdom 
which  worked  in  both  may  in  the  former  instruct  by  an  example 
and  in  the  latter  execute  judgment." 

The  severance  of  light  from  darkness  is  the  material 
example  of  how  God  executes  judgment  in  dividing  the 
good  from  the  evil.  In  this  visible  work  of  God  a  "  sacra- 
ment" is  discernible,  since  every  soul,  so  long  as  it  is  in 
sin,  is  in  darkness  and  confusion.  All  the  visible  works  of 
God  offer  spiritual  lessons  (spiritualia  praeferunt  documenta). 
They  have  sacramental  qualities,  and  yet  are  not  perfected 
and  completed  sacraments,  as  will  hereafter  appear  from 
Hugo's  definition. 

Following  the  order  of  creation,  Hugo  now  speaks  of 
the  firmament  which  God  set  in  the  midst  of  the  waters  to 
divide  them  : 

"  He  who  believes  that  this  was  made  for  his  sake  will  not  look 
for  the  reason  of  it  outside  of  himself.  For  it  all  was  made  in  the 
image  of  the  world  within  him ;  the  earth  which  is  below,  is  the 
sensual  nature  of  man,  and  the  heaven  above  is  the  purity  of  his 
intelligence  quickening  to  immortal  life." 

The  rational  and  unseen  are  a  world  as  well  as  the 
material  and  visible.  The  sacramental  quality  of  the 


CHAP,  xxvm     THE  SYMBOLIC  UNIVERSE  69 

material  world  lies  in  its  correspondence  to  the  unseen 
world.  When  Hugo  speaks  of  the  "  sacramenta "  in  the 
creation  of  light  and  the  waters  divided  by  the  firmament, 
he  means  that  in  addition  to  their  material  nature  as  light 
and  water,  they  are  essentially  symbols.  Their  symbolism 
is  as  veritably  part  of  their  nature  as  the  symbolical  character 
of  the  Eucharist  is  part  of  the  nature  of  the  consecrated 
bread  and  wine.  The  sacraments  are  among  the  deepest 
verities  of  the  Christian  Faith.  And  the  same  representative 
verity  that  exists  in  them,  exists,  in  less  perfected  mode, 
throughout  God's  entire  creation.  So  the  argument  carries 
out  the  principles  of  the  sacraments  and  the  principles  of 
symbolism  to  a  full  explanation  of  the  world  ;  and  Hugo's 
work  upon  the  Sacraments  presents  his  theory  of  the 
universe. 

"  Many  other  mysteries,"  says  Hugo,  closing  the  first  "  Part "  of 
his  first  Book,  "  could  be  pointed  out  in  the  work  of  the  creation. 
But  we  briefly  speak  of  these  matters  as  a  suitable  approach  to  the 
subject  set  before  us.  For  our  purpose  is  to  treat  of  the  sacrament 
of  man's  redemption.  The  work  of  creation  was  completed  in  six 
days,  the  work  of  restoration  in  six  ages.  The  latter  work  we 
define  as  the  Incarnation  of  the  Word  and  what  in  and  through  the 
flesh  the  Word  performed,  with  all  His  sacraments,  both  those 
which  from  the  beginning  prefigured  the  Incarnation  and  those 
which  follow  to  declare  and  preach  it  till  the  end." 

It  is  unnecessary  to  follow  Hugo  through  the  discussion, 
upon  which  he  now  enters,  of  the  will,  knowledge,  and 
power  of  the  Trinity,  or  through  his  consideration  of  the 
knowledge  which  man  may  have  of  God.  In  Part  V.  of 
the  first  Book,  he  considers  the  creation  of  angels,  their 
qualities  and  nature,  and  the  reasons  why  a  part  of  them 
fell.  With  Part  VI.  the  creation  of  man  is  reached,  which 
Hugo  shows  to  have  been  causally  prior,  though  later  in 
time,  to  the  creation  of  the  world  which  God  made  for  man. 
From  love  God  created  rational  creatures,  the  angels  purely 
spiritual,  and  man  a  spirit  clothed  with  earth.1  Hugo 

1  God  is  perfect  and  utterly  good.  His  beatitude  cannot  be  increased  or 
diminished,  but  it  can  be  imparted.  Therefore  the  primal  cause  for  creating 
rational  creatures  was  God's  wish  that  there  should  be  partakers  of  His  beatitude. 
This  reasoning  may  be  Christian  ;  but  it  is  also  close  to  the  doctrine  of  Plato's 
Ttmatus,  which  Hugo  had  read. 


70  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

considers  the  corporeal  as  well  as  the  spiritual  nature  and 
qualities  of  man,  and  his  condition  before  the  Fall.  The 
seventh  Part  is  devoted  to  the  Fall  itself,  and  discusses  its 
character  and  sinfulness. 

At  length,  in  the  eighth  Part,  Hugo  reaches  the  true 
subject  of  his  treatise,  the  restoration  of  man.  Man's  first 
sin  of  pride  was  followed  by  a  triple  punishment,  consisting 
in  a  penalty,  and  two  entailed  defects,  the  penalty  being 
bodily  mortality,  the  defects  carnal  concupiscence  and  mental 
ignorance. 

"  Regarding  his  reparation  three  matters  are  to  be  considered, 
the  time,  the  place,  the  remedy.  The  time  is  the  present  life,  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  world.  The  place  is  this  world.1 
The  remedy  is  threefold,  and  consists  in  faith,  the  sacraments,  and 
good  works.  Long  is  the  time,  that  man  may  not  be  taken  unpre- 
pared. Hard  is  the  place,  that  the  transgressor  may  be  castigated. 
Efficacious  is  the  remedy,  that  the  sick  one  may  be  healed." 

Hugo  then  sets  forth  the  situation,  the  case  in  court  as 
it  were,  to  which  God,  the  devil,  and  man,  are  the  three 
parties.  In  this  trial 

".  .  .  the  devil  is  convicted  of  an  injury  to  God  in  that  he 
seduced  God's  servant  by  fraud  and  holds  him  by  violence.  Man 
also  is  convicted  of  an  injury  to  God  in  that  he  despised  His 
command  and  wickedly  gave  himself  to  evil  servitude.  Likewise 
the  devil  is  convicted  of  an  injury  toward  man,  in  first  deceiving 
him  and  then  bringing  evil  upon  him.  The  devil  holds  man 
unjustly,  though  man  is  justly  held." 

Since  the  devil's  case  against  man  was  unjust,  man 
might  defeat  his  lordship  ;  but  he  needed  an  advocate 
(J>atronus\  which  could  be  only  God.  God,  angry  at  man's 
sin,  did  not  wish  to  undertake  man's  cause.  He  must  be 
placated  ;  and  man  had  no  equivalent  to  offer  for  the  injury 
he  had  done  Him ;  for  he  had  deserted  God  when  rational 
and  innocent,  and  could  deliver  himself  back  to  God  only  as 
an  irrational  and  sinful  creature.  Therefore,  in  order  that 

1  Hugo  also  takes  a  wider  view  of  the  "  place  "  of  mankind's  restoration, 
and  finds  that  it  includes  (i)  heaven,  where  the  good  are  confirmed  and  made 
perfect ;  (2)  hell,  where  the  bad  receive  their  deserts  ;  (3)  the  fire  of  purgatory, 
where  there  is  correction  and  perfecting;  (4)  paradise  the  place  of  good  beginnings ; 
and  (5)  the  world,  the  place  of  pilgrimage  for  those  who  need  restoring. 


CHAP,  xxvin     THE  SYMBOLIC   UNIVERSE  71 

man  might  have  wherewithal  to  placate  God,  God  through 
mercy  gave  man  a  man  whom  man  might  give  in  place  of 
him  who  had  sinned.  God  became  man  for  man  and  as 
man  gave  himself  for  man.  Thus  He  who  had  been  man's 
Creator  became  also  his  Redeemer.  God  might  have 
redeemed  man  in  some  other  way,  but  took  the  way  of 
human  nature  as  best  suited  to  man's  weakness. 

After  our  first  parent  had  been  exiled  from  Paradise  for 
his  sin,  the  devil  possessed  him  violently.  But  God's 
providence  tempered  justice  with  mercy,  and  from  the 
penalty  itself  prepared  a  remedy. 

"  He  set  for  man  as  a  sign  the  sacraments  of  his  salvation,  in 
order  that  whoever  would  apprehend  them  with  right  faith  and  firm 
hope,  might,  though  under  the  yoke,  have  some  fellowship  with 
freedom.  He  set  His  edict  informing  and  instructing  man,  so  that 
whoever  should  elect  to  expect  a  saviour,  should  prove  his  vow  of 
election  in  observance  of  the  sacraments.  The  devil  also  set  his 
sacraments,  that  he  might  know  and  possess  his  own  more  surely. 
The  human  race  was  at  once  divided  into  opposite  parties,  some 
accepting  the  devil's  sacraments  and  some  the  sacraments  of  Christ. 
.  .  .  Hence  it  is  clear,  that  from  the  beginning  there  were  Christians 
in  fact,  if  not  in  name." 

Hugo  proceeds  to  show  that  the  time  of  the  institution 
of  the  sacraments  began  when  our  first  parent,  expelled  from 
Paradise,  was  subjected  to  the  exile  of  this  mortal  life,  with 
all  his  posterity  until  the  end. 

"  As  soon  as  man  had  fallen  from  his  first  state  of  incorruption, 
he  began  to  be  sick,  in  body  through  his  mortality,  in  mind  through 
his  iniquity.  Forthwith  God  prepared  the  medicine  of  his  reparation 
through  His  sacraments.  In  divers  times  and  places  God  presented 
these  for  man's  healing,  as  reason  and  the  cause  demanded,  some 
of  them  before  the  Law,  some  under  the  Law  and  some  under 
grace.  Though  different  in  form  they  had  the  one  effect  and 
accomplished  the  one  health.  If  any  one  inquires  the  period  of 
their  appointment  he  may  know  that  as  long  as  there  is  disease 
so  long  is  the  time  of  the  medicine.  The  present  life,  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end  of  the  world,  is  the  time  of  sickness  and  the 
time  of  the  remedy.  When  a  sacrament  has  fulfilled  its  time  it 
ceases,  and  others  take  its  place,  to  bring  about  that  same  health. 
These  in  turn  have  been  succeeded  at  last  by  others,  which  are  not 
to  be  superseded." 


72  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

Having  followed  Hugo's  plan  thus  far,  one  sees  why  it  is 
only  at  the  commencement  of  the  ninth  Part  of  his  first  Book 
that  he  reaches  the  definition  and  discussion  of  those  final 
and  enduring  sacraments  which  followed  the  Incarnation. 
He  has  hitherto  been  developing  his  theme,  and  now  takes  up 
its  very  essence.  Laying  out  the  matter  scholastically,  he 
says  "  there  are  four  things  to  consider :  first,  what  is  a 
sacrament ;  second,  why  they  were  instituted  ;  third,  what 
may  be  the  material  of  each  sacrament,  in  which  it  is  made 
and  sanctified  ;  and  fourth,  how  many  sacraments  there  are. 
This  is  the  definition,  cause,  material,  and  classification." 

Proceeding  to  the  definition,  he  says  that  the  doctors 
have  briefly  described  a  sacrament  as  the  token  of  the  sacred 
substance  (sacrae  ret  signutri). 

"  For  as  there  is  body  and  soul  in  man,  and  in  Scripture  the 
letter  and  the  sense,  so  in  every  sacrament  there  is  the  visible 
external  which  may  be  handled  and  the  invisible  within,  which  is 
believed  and  taught.  The  material  external  is  the  sacrament,  and 
the  invisible  and  spiritual  is  the  sacrament's  substance  (res)  or  virtus. 
The  external  is  handled  and  sanctified ;  that  is  the  signum  of  the 
spiritual  grace,  which  is  the  sacrament's  res  and  is  invisibly 
apprehended." 

Having  thus  explained  the  old  definition,  Hugo  objects 
to  it  on  the  ground  that  not  every  signum  rei  sacrae  is  a 
sacrament ;  the  letters  of  the  sacred  text  and  the  pictures  of 
holy  things  are  signa  rei  sacrae,  and  yet  are  not  sacraments. 
He  therefore  offers  the  following  definition  as  adequate  : 

\-?\  "  The  sacrament  is  the  corporeal  or  material  element  set  out 
sensibly,  representing  from  its  similitude,  signifying  from  its  institu- 
tion, and  containing  from  its  sanctification,  some  invisible  and 
spiritual  grace." l 

This,  he  maintains,  is  a  perfect  definition,  since  all  sacra- 
ments possess  these  three  qualities,  and  whatever  lacks  them 
cannot  properly  be  called  a  sacrament.  As  an  example 
he  instances  the  baptismal  water  : 

1  "  Sacramentum  est  corporate  vel  materiale  elenientum  foris  sensibiliter 
propositum  ex  similitudine  repraesentans,  et  ex  institutione  significans,  et  ex 
sanctificatione  continens  aliquam  invisibilem  et  spiritalem  gratiam  "  (pars  ix.  2  ; 
Migne  176,  col.  317).  In  spite  of  Hugo  the  old  definition  held  its  ground,  being 
adopted  by  Peter  Lombard  and  others  after  him. 


CHAP,  xxvm     THE  SYMBOLIC  UNIVERSE  73 

"There  is  the  visible  element  of  water,  which  is  the  sacrament; 
and  these  three  are  found  in  one :  representation  from  similitude, 
significance  from  appointment,  virtue  from  sanctification.  The 
similitude  is  from  creation,  the  appointment  from  dispensation,  the 
sanctification  from  benediction.  The  first  is  imparted  to  it  through 
the  Creator,  the  second  is  added  through  the  Saviour,  the  third  is 
given  through  the  administrator." l 

Passing  to  the  second  consideration,  Hugo  finds  that  the 
sacraments  were  instituted  with  threefold  purpose,  for  man's 
humiliation,  instruction,  and  discipline  or  exercise.  The 
man  contemning  them  cannot  be  saved.  Yet  God  has  saved 
many  without  them,  as  Jeremiah  was  sanctified  in  the  womb, 
and  John  the  Baptist,  and  those  who  were  righteous  under 
the  natural  law.  "  For  those  who  under  the  natural  law 
possessed  the  substance  (res}  of  the  sacrament  in  right  faith 
and  charity,  did  not  to  their  damnation  lack  the  sacrament" 
And  Hugo  warns  whoever  might  take  a  narrower  view,  to 
beware  lest  in  honouring  God's  sacraments,  His  power  and 
goodness  be  made  of  no  avail.  "  Dost  thou  tell  me  that  he 
who  has  not  the  sacraments  of  God  cannot  be  saved  ?  I  tell 
thee  that  he  who  has  the  virtue  of  the  sacraments  of  God 
cannot  perish.  Which  is  greater,  the  sacrament  or  the 
virtue  of  the  sacrament — water  or  faith  ?  If  thou  wouldst 
speak  truly,  answer,  '  faith.' "  One  notes  that  the  twelfth 
century  had  its  broad-mindedness,  as  well  as  the  twentieth. 

While  passing  on  discursively  to  consider  the  classifica- 
tion of  the  sacraments,  Hugo  considers  many  matters,2  and 
then  opens  his  treatment  of  the  sacraments  of  the  natural 
law  with  a  recapitulation  : 

"The  sacraments  from  the  beginning  were  instituted  for  the 
restoration  and  healing  of  man,  some  under  the  natural  law,  some 

1  Here  we  see  clearly  that  the  works  of  the  Creation  have  the  sacramental 
quality   of  similitude   and,    in   a   way,    the  quality  of  institution,   since  their 
similitude  to  spiritual  things  was  intended  by  the  Creator  for  the  instruction  of 
man.     They  lack,  however,  the  third  quality  of  sanctification,  which  enables  the 
material  signum  to  convey  its  spiritual  res. 

2  e.g.  the  material  of  the  sacrament,  which  may  consist  in  things,  as  in  bread 
and  wine,  or  in  actions  (as  in  making  the  sign  of  the  cross),  or  in  words,  as  in 
the  invocation  of  the  Trinity.     He  also  shows  how  faith  itself  may  be  regarded 
as  a  sacrament,  inasmuch  as  it  is  that  whereby  we  now  see  in  a  glass  darkly  and 
behold  but  an  image.     But  we  shall  hereafter  see  clearly  through  contemplation. 
Faith  then  is  the  image,  i.e.  the  sacrament,  of  the  future  contemplation  which  is 
the  sacrament's  real  verity,  the  res. 


74  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  v 

under  the  written  law,  and  others  under  grace.  Those  which  are 
later  in  time  will  be  found  more  worthy  means  of  spiritual  grace. 
For  all  those  sacraments  of  the  former  time,  under  the  natural  or 
the  written  law,  were  signs  and  figures  of  those  now  appointed 
under  grace.  The  spiritual  effect  of  the  former  in  their  time  was 
wrought  through  the  virtue  and  sanctification  drawn  from  the  latter. 
If  any  one  therefore  would  deny  that  those  prior  sacraments  were 
effectual  for  sanctification,  he  does  not  seem  to  me  to  judge 
aright."1 

The  sacraments  of  the  natural  law  were  as  the  umbra 
veritatis  ;  those  of  the  written  law  as  the  imago  vel  figura 
veritatis ;  but  those  under  grace  are  the  corpus  veritatis? 
The  written  law,  though  given  fully  only  through  Moses, 
began  with  Abraham,  upon  whom  circumcision  was  enjoined 
as  a  sacrament  and  sign  of  separation  from  the  heathen 
peoples.  In  obedience  to  its  precepts  lies  the  merit,  in  its 
promises  lies  the  reward,  while  its  sacraments  aid  men  to 
fulfil  its  precepts  and  obtain  its  reward.  Hugo  discusses  the 
sacraments  of  circumcision  and  burnt-offerings  which  were 
necessary  for  the  remission  of  sins ;  then  those  which 
exercised  the  faithful  people  in  devotion — the  peace-offering 
is  an  example  ;  and  again  those  which  aided  the  people  to 
cultivate  piety,  as  the  tabernacle  and  its  utensils. 

Hugo's  second  Book,  which  makes  the  second  half  of  his 
work,  is  devoted  to  the  "  time  of  grace  "  inaugurated  by  the 
Incarnation.  It  treats  in  detail  the  Christian  sacraments 
and  other  topics  of  the  Faith,  down  to  the  Last  Judgment, 
when  the  wicked  are  cast  into  hell,  and  the  blessed  enter 
upon  eternal  life,  where  God  will  be  seen  eternally,  praised 
without  weariness,  and  loved  without  satiety.  This  blessed 
lot  flows  from  the  grace  of  the  salvation  brought  by  Christ, 
and  is  dependent  on  the  sacraments,  the  enduring  means  of 
grace.  On  their  part,  the  sacraments,  whatever  more  they 
are,  are  symbols,  in  essence  and  function  connected  with  the 

1  De  sacr.  lib.  i.   pars  xi.  cap.    i.      The   sacraments   of  the   natural    law 
included  tithes,  oblations,  and  sacrifices.     Hugo  also  considers  the  good  works 
which  the  natural  law  prescribed.     This  period  ceases  with  the  written  law  given 
implicitly  through  Abraham  and  explicitly  through  Moses.     See  De  sacr.  lib.  i. 
pars  xii.  cap.  i.     Hugo  appears  to  me  to  vary  his  point  of  view  regarding  the 
natural  law  and  its  time,  for  sometimes  he  regards  it  as  the  law  prevailing  till  the 
time  of  Abraham  or  Moses,  and  again  as  the  law  under  which  pagan  peoples 
lived,  who  did  not  know  the  Mosaic  law. 

2  De  sacr.  lib.  i.  pars  xi.  cap.  6  (Migne  176,  col.  346). 


CHAP,  xxvm     THE  SYMBOLIC   UNIVERSE  75 

symbolical  nature  of  God's  creation,  with  the  prefigurative 
significance  of  the  fortunes  of  God's  chosen  people  until  the 
coming  of  Christ,  with  the  import  and  symbolism  of  Christ's 
life  and  teachings,  and  with  the  symbolism  inherent  in 
the  organization  and  building  up  of  Christ's  holy  Church. 
Symbolism  and  allegory  are  made  part  of  the  constitution 
of  the  world  and  man ;  they  connect  man's  body  and 
environment  with  his  spirit,  and  link  the  life  of  this  world 
with  the  life  to  come.  Hugo  has  thus  grounded  and 
established  symbolism  in  the  purposes  of  God,  in  the 
universal  scheme  of  things,  and  in  the  nature  and  destinies 
of  man.1 

1  Whoever  should  wish  for  further  illustration  of  Hugo's  allegorical  methods 
may  examine  his  treatises  entitled  De  area  Noe  morali  and  De  area  NoS  mystica 
(Migne  176,  col.  618-702),  where  every  detail  of  the  Ark,  which  signifies  the 
Church,  is  allegorically  applied  to  the  Christian  scheme  of  life  and  salvation. 
With  these  treatises,  Hugo's  De  vanitate  mundi  (Migne  176,  col.  703-740)  is 
connected.  They  will  be  referred  to  when  considering  Hugo's  position  in 
mediaeval  philosophy,  post,  Chapter  XXXVI.,  n. 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

CATHEDRAL    AND    MASS  ;   HYMN    AND   IMAGINATIVE    POEM 
I.    GUILELMUS    DURANDUS   AND   VINCENT  OF   BEAUVAIS. 

II.  THE  HYMNS  OF  ADAM  OF  ST.  VICTOR  AND  THE  ANTICLAUDI- 
ANUS  OF  ALANUS  OF  LILLE. 

UNDER  sanction  of  Scriptural  interpretation  and  the  sacra- 
ments, allegory  and  symbolism  became  accepted  principles 
of  spiritual  verity,  sources  of  political  argument,  and  modes 
of  transcendental  truth.  They  penetrated  the  Liturgy, 
charging  every  sentence  and  ceremonial  act  with  saving 
significance  and  power ;  and  as  plastic  influences  they 
imparted  form  and  matter  to  religious  art  and  poetry,  where 
they  had  indeed  been  potent  from  the  beginning. 


I 

In  the  early  Church  the  office  of  the  Mass,  the  ordination 
of  priests,  and  the  dedication  of  churches  were  not  charged 
with  the  elaborate  symbolism  carried  by  these  ceremonies  in 
the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries,1  when  the  Liturgy,  or 
speaking  more  specifically,  the  Mass,  had  become  symbolical 
from  the  introit  to  the  last  benediction  ;  and  Gothic  sculpture 
and  glass  painting,  which  were  its  visible  illustration,  had 
been  impressed  with  corresponding  allegory.  Mediaeval 
liturgic  lore  is  summed  up  by  Guilelmus  Durandus  in  his 
Rationale  divinorum  officiorum,  which  was  composed  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  thirteenth  century,  and  contains  much 
that  is  mirrored  in  the  art  of  the  French  cathedrals.  It  is 

1  See  Duchesne,  Origines  du  culte  chritien. 
76 


CHAP,  xxix       SYMBOLIC  WORKS  OF  MEN  77 

impossible  to  review  the  elaborate  symbolical  significance  of 
the  Mass  as  set  forth  in  the  authoritative  work  of  one  who 
was  a  bishop,  theologian,  jurist,  and  papal  regent.1  But  a 
little  of  it  may  be  given. 

The  office  of  the  Mass,  says  Durandus,  is  devised  with 
great  forethought,  so  as  to  contain  the  major  part  of  what 
was  accomplished  by  and  in  Christ  from  the  time  when  He 
descended  from  heaven  to  the  time  when  He  ascended  into 
heaven.  In  the  sacrifice  of  the  Mass  all  the  sacrifices  of  the 
Ancient  Law  are  represented  and  superseded.  It  may  be 
celebrated  at  the  third  hour,  because  then,  according  to 
Mark,  Christ  ascended  the  cross,  and  at  that  hour  also  the 
Holy  Spirit  descended  upon  the  Apostles  in  tongues  of  fire  ; 
or  at  the  sixth  hour,  when,  according  to  Matthew,  Christ 
was  crucified  ;  or  at  the  ninth  hour,  when  on  the  cross  He 
gave  up  His  spirit. 

The  first  part  of  the  Mass  begins  with  the  introit.  Its 
antiphonal  chanting  signifies  the  aspirations  and  deeds,  the 
prayers  and  praises  of  the  patriarchs  and  prophets  who  were 
looking  for  the  coming  of  the  Son  of  God.  The  chorus  of 
chanting  clergy  represents  this  yearning  multitude  of  saints 
of  the  Ancient  Law.  The  bishop,  clad  in  his  sacred  vest- 
ments,2 at  the  end  of  the  procession,  emerging  from  the 
sacristy  and  advancing  to  the  altar,  represents  Christ, 
the  expected  of  the  nations,  emerging  from  the  Virgin's 
womb  and  entering  the  world,  even  as  the  Spouse  from 
His  secret  chamber.  The  seven  lights  borne  before  him 
on  the  chief  festivals  are  the  seven  gifts  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
descending  upon  the  head  of  Christ.  The  two  acolytes 
preceding  him  signify  the  Law  and  the  Prophets,  shown  in 
Moses  and  Elias  who  appeared  with  Christ  on  Mount  Tabor. 
The  four  who  bear  the  canopy  are  the  four  evangelists, 
declaring  the  Gospel.  The  bishop  takes  his  seat  and  lays 
aside  his  mitre.  He  is  silent,  as  was  Christ  during  His  early 

1  See  the  epitaph  from  his  tomb  in  S.  Maria  sopra  Minerva  in  Rome,  given 
by  Savigny,  Geschichte  des  Romischen  Rechtst  v.  571  J^->  who  also  gives  a  sketch 
of  his  life.     With  the  work  of  Durandus,  the  Gemma  animae  of  Honorius  of 
Autun  (Books  I.  II.  III.  ;  Migne  172,  col.   541  sqq.)  should  be  compared,  as 
marking  a  somewhat  earlier  stage  in  the  interpretation  of  the  Liturgy.     It  also 
gives  the  symbolism  of  the  church  and  its  parts,  its  ministers,  and  services. 

2  Every  article  worn  or  borne  by   the  bishop   (or  celebrating  priest)  has 
symbolic  significance. 


78  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

years.  The  Book  of  the  Gospels  lies  closed  before  him. 
Around  him  in  the  company  of  clergy  are  represented  the 
Magi  and  others. 

The  services  proceed,  every  word  and  act  filled  with 
symbolic  import  The  reading  of  the  Epistle  is  reached — 
that  is  the  preaching  of  John  the  Baptist,  who  preaches  only 
to  the  Jews  ;  so  the  reader  turns  to  the  north,  the  region  of 
the  Ancient  Law.  The  reading  ended,  he  bows  before  the 
bishop,  as  the  Baptist  humbled  himself  before  Christ. 

After  the  Epistle  comes  the  Gradual  or  responsorium, 
which  relates  to  penitence  and  the  works  of  the  active  life. 
The  Baptist  is  still  the  main  figure,  until  the  solemn  moment 
when  the  Gospel  is  read,  which  signifies  the  beginning  of 
Christ's  preaching.  The  Creed  follows  the  Gospel,  as  faith 
follows  the  preaching  of  the  truth.  Its  twelve  parts  refer  to 
the  calling  of  the  twelve  apostles.  Then  the  bishop  begins 
his  sermon  ;  that  is  to  say,  after  the  calling  of  the  Twelve, 
the  Word  of  God  is  preached  to  the  people,  and  it  henceforth 
behoves  the  Church  to  hold  fast  to  the  Creed  which  has 
just  been  recited.1 

The  authoritative  allegorizing  of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth 
centuries  extended  the  symbolism  of  the  Mass  to  the  edifice 
in  which  it  was  celebrated  ;  as  the  Rationale  sets  forth  in  its 
opening  chapter  entitled  "  De  ecclesia  et  eius  partibus."  There 
it  is  shown  that  the  corporeal  church  is  the  edifice,  while  the 
Church,  spiritually  taken,  signifies  the  faithful  people  drawn 
together  from  all  sorts  of  men  as  the  edifice  is  constructed  of 
all  sorts  of  stones.  The  various  names  ecclesia,  synagogue, 
basilica,  and  tabernacle  are  explained  ;  and  then  why  the 
Church  is  called  the  Body  of  Christ,  and  also  Virgin,  also 
Spouse,  Mother,  Daughter,  Widow,  and  indeed  Meretrix,  as 
it  shuts  its  bosom  against  no  one  seeking  it.  The  form  of 
the  church  conforms  to  that  of  Solomon's  temple,  in  the 
anterior  part  of  which  the  people  heard  and  prayed,  while 
the  clergy  prayed  and  preached,  gave  thanks  and  ministered, 
in  the  sanctuary  or  sacred  place.  Solomon's  temple  in  turn 
was  modelled  on  the  Tabernacle  of  the  Exodus,  which, 

1  All  this  (which  is  taken  from  Book  IV.  of  the  Rationale)  is  but  the  first 
part  of  the  Mass.  The  maze  of  symbolism  increases  in  vastness  and  intricacy  as 
the  office  proceeds. 


CHAP,  xxix      SYMBOLIC  WORKS  OF  MEN  79 

because  it  was  constructed  on  a  journey,  is  the  type  of  the 
world  which  passes  away  and  the  lust  thereof.  It  was  made 
with  the  four  colours  of  the  arch  of  heaven,  as  the  world 
consists  of  the  four  elements.  Since  God  is  in  the  world, 
He  is  in  the  tabernacle  (which  also  means  the  Church 
militant)  and  in  the  midst  of  the  faithful  congregation.  The 
anterior  part  of  the  tabernacle,  where  the  people  sacrificed,  is 
also  the  Vita  activa,  in  which  the  laity  labour  in  neighbourly 
love  ;  and  the  portion  where  the  Levites  ministered  is  the 
Vita  contemplativa. 

The  church  should  be  erected  in  the  following  manner : 
the  place  of  its  foundation  should  be  made  ready — well- 
founded  is  the  house  of  the  Lord  upon  a  rock — and  the 
bishop  or  licensed  priest  should  sprinkle  it  with  holy  water 
to  dispel  the  demons,  and  should  lay  the  first  stone,  on  which 
should  be  carved  a  cross.  The  head  of  the  church,  that  is 
the  chancel,  should  be  set  toward  the  rising  sun  at  the  time 
of  the  equinox.  Now  if  the  Jews  were  commanded  to  build 
walls  for  Jerusalem,  how  much  more  ought  we  to  build  the 
walls  of  our  churches?  The  material  church  signifies  the 
Holy  Church  built  of  living  stones  in  heaven,  with  Christ  the 
corner-stone,  upon  which  are  set  the  foundations  of  Apostles 
and  Prophets.  The  walls  above  are  the  Jews  and  Gentiles, 
who  believing  come  to  Christ  from  the  four  quarters  of  the 
world.  The  faithful  people  predestined  to  life  are  the  stones 
thereof. 

The  mortar  in  which  the  stones  are  set  is  made  of  lime, 
sand,  and  water.  Lime  is  fervent  love,  which  takes  to  itself 
the  sand,  that  is,  earthly  toil ;  then  water,  which  is  the  Spirit, 
unites  the  lime  and  sand.  As  the  stones  of  the  wall  would 
have  no  stability  without  the  mortar,  so  men  cannot  be  set 
in  the  walls  of  the  heavenly  Jerusalem  without  love,  which 
the  Holy  Spirit  brings.  The  stones  of  the  wall  are  hewn 
and  squared,  which  means  sanctified  and  made  clean.  Some 
stones  are  borne,  but  do  not  themselves  bear  any  burden, 
and  these  are  the  feeble  in  the  Church.  Other  stones  are 
borne,  yet  also  bear  ;  while  still  others  bear,  but  are  not  borne, 
save  by  Christ  alone,  the  one  foundation  ;  and  the  last  are 
the  perfect. 

The  Jews  were  subject  to  hostile  attack  while  building 


8o  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

the  walls  of  Jerusalem,1  so  that  with  one  hand  they  set 
stones,  while  they  fought  with  the  other.  Likewise  are  we 
surrounded  by  hostile  vices  as  we  build  the  walls  of  the 
Church  ;  but  we  oppose  them  with  the  shield  of  faith  and 
the  breastplate  of  righteousness,  and  the  sword  of  the  Word 
of  God  in  our  hands. 

The  church  edifice  is  disposed  like  the  human  body. 
The  chancel,  where  the  altar  is,  represents  the  head,  and  the 
cross  (transept)  the  arms  and  hands.  The  western  portion 
(nave  and  aisles)  is  the  rest  of  the  body.  But  indeed 
Richard  of  St.  Victor  deems  that  the  three  parts  of  the 
edifice  represent  in  order  of  sanctity,  first  the  virgins,  then 
the  continent,  and  lastly  married  people. 

Again,  the  Church  is  built  with  four  walls  ;  that  is,  by 
the  teaching  of  the  four  evangelists  it  rises  broad  and  high 
into  the  altitude  of  the  virtues.  Its  length  is  the  long- 
suffering  with  which  it  endures  adversity ;  its  breadth  is 
love,  with  which  it  embraces  its  friends  in  God,  and  loves  its 
enemies  for  His  sake  ;  its  height  is  the  hope  of  future  reward. 
Again,  in  God's  temple  the  foundation  is  faith,  which  is  as 
to  what  is  not  seen  ;  the  roof  is  charity,  which  covers  a 
multitude  of  sins.  The  door  is  obedience — keep  the  com- 
mandments if  thou  wilt  enter  into  life.2  The  pavement  is 
humility.  The  four  walls  are  the  four  virtues,  righteousness, 
(justitia\  fortitude,  prudence,  and  temperance.  The  windows 
are  glad  hospitality  and  free-handed  pity. 

Some  churches  are  cruciform,  to  teach  us  that  we  are 
crucified  to  the  world,  or  should  follow  the  Crucified.  Some 
are  circular,  which  signifies  that  the  Church  is  spread  through 
the  circle  of  the  world. 

The  apse  signifies  the  faithful  laity  ;  the  crypts,  the 
hermits.  The  nave  signifies  Christ,  through  whom  lies  the 
way  to  the  heavenly  Jerusalem  ;  the  towers  are  the  preachers 
and  prelates,  and  the  pinnacles  represent  the  prelates'  minds 
which  soar  on  high.  Also  a  weather-cock  on  top  of  the 
church  signifies  the  preachers,  who  rouse  the  sleeping  from 
the  night  of  sin,  and  turning  ever  to  the  wind,  resist  the 
rebellious.  The  iron  rod  upholding  the  cock  is  the  preacher's 
sermon  ;  and  because  this  rod  is  placed  above  the  cross  on 

1  Neh.  iv.  2  Matt.  xix.  17. 


CHAP,  xxix      SYMBOLIC  WORKS  OF  MEN  81 

the  church,  it  indicates  the  word  of  God  finished  and  con- 
firmed, as  Christ  said  in  His  passion,  "  It  is  finished."  The 
lofty  dome  on  which  the  cross  is  set,  signifies  how  perfect 
and  inviolate  should  be  the  preaching  and  observance  of  the 
Catholic  Faith. 

The  glass  windows  of  the  church  are  the  divine 
Scriptures,  which  repel  the  wind  and  rain,  but  admit  the 
light  of  the  true  sun,  to  wit  God,  into  the  church,  that  is, 
into  the  hearts  of  the  faithful.  The  windows  also  signify 
the  five  senses  of  the  body.1 

The  door  of  the  church  (again)  is  Christ — "  I  am  the 
Door  "  ;  the  doors  are  also  the  Apostles.  The  pillars  are  the 
bishops  and  doctors  ;  their  bases  are  the  apostolic  bishops  ; 
their  capitals  are  the  minds  of  the  doctors  and  bishops. 
The  pavement  is  the  foundation  of  faith,  and  also  signifies 
the  "  poor  in  spirit,"  also  the  common  crowd  by  whose 
labours  the  church  is  upheld.  The  rafters  are  the  princes 
and  preachers  in  the  world,  who  defend  the  church  by  deed 
and  word.  The  seats  in  a  church  are  the  contemplative  in 
whom  God  rests  without  offence.  The  panels  in  the  ceiling 
are  also  preachers  who  adorn  and  strengthen. 

The  chancel,  the  head  of  the  church,  by  being  lower 
than  the  rest,  indicates  how  great  should  be  the  humility  of 
the  clergy.  The  screens  by  which  the  altar  is  separated 
from  the  choir  signify  the  separation  of  heavenly  beings 
from  things  of  earth.  The  choir  stalls  indicate  the  body's 
need  of  recreation.  The  pulpit  is  the  life  of  the  perfect. 
The  horologe  signifies  the  diligence  with  which  the  priests 
should  say  the  canonical  hours.  The  tiles  of  the  roof  are 
the  knights  who  protect  the  church  from  pagans.  The 
spiral  stairways  concealed  within  the  walls  are  the  secret 
knowledge  had  only  by  those  who  ascend  to  the  heavenly 
places.  The  sacristy,  where  the  holy  utensils  are  kept  and 
the  priest  puts  on  his  vestments,  signifies  the  womb  of  the 
most  holy  Virgin,  in  which  Christ  put  on  His  sacred  garb  of 
flesh.  From  thence  the  priest  emerges  before  the  public, 
as  Christ  went  forth  from  the  Virgin's  womb  into  the  world. 
The  lamp  signifies  Christ,  who  is  the  light  of  the  world  ; 

1  Many  parts  of  the  church  have  more  than  one  significance.     The  windows 
were  said  before  to  represent  hospitality  and  pity. 

VOL.  II  G 


82  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

or  the  lamps  signify  the  Apostles  and  other  doctors,  whose 
doctrine  lights  the  church.  Moses  also  made  seven  lights, 
which  are  the  seven  gifts  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

Durandus  next  devotes  a  whole  chapter  to  the  symbolism 
of  the  altar,  and  another  to  the  significance  and  function  of 
ornaments,  pictures,  and  sculpture.  The  latter  opens  with 
the  words  :  "  The  pictures  and  ornaments  in  a  church  are 
the  texts  and  scriptures  (lectiones  et  scripturae]  of  the  laity." 
This  chapter  is  long ;  it  explains  how  Christ  and  the  angels, 
also  saints,  Apostles  and  others,  should  be  represented,  and 
describes  the  proper  kinds  of  church  ornament  and  utensils. 
Much  of  the  detail  is  symbolical. 

Thus  Durandus  devised  or  brought  together  meanings 
to  fit  each  bit  of  the  church  edifice,  its  materials  and  furnish- 
ings. In  the  work  of  a  contemporary  are  stored  the  alle- 
gorical meanings  of  the  subjects  of  Gothic  sculpture  and 
painted  glass.  The  thirteenth  century  had  a  weakness  for 
the  word  "  Speculum,"  and  the  idea  it  carried  of  a  mirror 
or  compendium  of  all  human  knowledge.  The  chief  of 
mediaeval  encyclopaedists  was  Vincent  of  Beauvais,  a  protege 
of  the  saintly  King  Louis  IX.  An  analysis  of  his  huge 
Speculum  majus  is  given  elsewhere.1  It  was  made  up  of 
the  Mirror  of  Nature,  the  Mirror  of  human  Knowledge  and 
Ethics,  and  the  Mirror  of  History.  The  compiler  and  his 
assistants  laboured  during  the  best  period  of  Gothic  art, 
and  from  their  work,  industry  may  draw  an  exhaustive 
commentary  upon  the  series  of  topics  presented  by  the 
sculpture  and  glass  of  a  cathedral.2 

The  Mirror  of  Nature  appears  carved  in  the  sculpture 
of  Chartres  or  Bourges.  In  rendering  the  work  of  the  Six 
Days,  the  Creator  is  shown  (under  the  form  of  Christ) 3  con- 

1  Post,  Chapter  XXXV.,  I. 

2  The  application  of  Vincent's  work  to  the  sculpture  and  painting  of  a  Gothic 
cathedral  is  due  to  Didron,  Iconographie  chretienne,  histoire  de  Dieu,  Introduction 
(1843).     Other  writers  have  followed  him,  like  Emile  Male  in  his  L'Art  religieux 
du  XIII*  sihle  en  France  (2nd  ed.,  Paris,  1902),  to  which  the  present  writer  is 
much  indebted.      It  goes  without  saying,  that  the  sources  from  which  Vincent 
drew  (e.g.  the  works  of  Albertus  Magnus)  likewise  form  a  commentary  upon  the 
subjects  of  Gothic  glass  and  sculpture,  and  may  even  have  suggested  the  manner 
of  their  presentation. 

3  The  opening  verses  of  John's  Gospel  account  for  this.     Christ,  or  God  in 
the  person  of  Christ,  is  shown  in  Old  Testament  scenes  as  early  as  the  fourth 
century  upon  sarcophagi  in  the  Lateran  at  Rome. 


CHAP,  xxix      SYMBOLIC  WORKS  OF  MEN  83 

templating  His  work,  or  resting  from  His  toil ;  here  and 
there  a  lion,  sheep,  or  goat,  suggests  the  animal  creation, 
and  a  few  trees  the  vegetable  world.  This  is  the  necessary 
symbolism  of  the  sculptor's  art.  But  Gothic  animals  and 
plants  sometimes  have  other  definite  symbolic  meanings, 
as  in  the  instance  of  the  well-known  signs  of  the  four 
Evangelists,  the  man,  the  lion,  the  ox,  the  eagle.  The 
allegorical  interpretations  of  Scripture  were  an  exhaustless 
source  of  symbolism  for  Gothic  sculptors  ;  another  was  the 
Physiologus  and  its  progeny  of  Bestiaries,  with  their  symbolic 
explanations  of  the  legendary  attributes  of  animals.  In- 
tentional symbolism,  however,  did  not  inhere  in  all  this 
carving,  much  of  which  is  sheer  fancy  and  decoration.  Such 
was  the  character  of  the  splendid  Gothic  flora,  of  the  birds 
and  beasts  that  move  in  it,  and  of  the  grotesque  monsters. 
They  were  not  out  of  place,  since  the  Gothic  cathedral  was 
itself  a  Speculum  or  Summa,  and  should  include  the  whole 
of  God's  creation,  not  omitting  even  the  devils  who  beset 
men's  souls. 

Vincent  may  have  drawn  from  Hugo  of  St.  Victor  the 
current  doctrine  that  the  arts  have  part  in  the  work  of  man's 
restoration  ;  a  doctrine  abundantly  justifying  the  presence  of 
the  sciences  and  crafts  (composing  the  Mirror  of  Knowledge) 
in  the  sculpture  and  painting  of  the  cathedral.  There  the 
Seven  Liberal  Arts  are  rendered,  through  allegorical  figures  ; 
and  the  months  of  the  year  are  symbolized  in  the  Zodiac 
and  the  labours  of  the  field  which  make  up  man's  annual 
toil.  Philosophy  is  shown  and  Fortune's  wheel ;  the  Virtues 
and  Vices  are  represented  in  personifications,  and  even  their 
conflict,  the  Psychomachia,  may  be  shown. 

At  last  the  Mirror  of  History  is  reached.  This  will 
teach  in  concrete  examples  what  has  been  learned  from  the 
figures  of  the  abstract  Virtues  and  Vices.  Its  chief  source 
is  the  Bible.  Those  Old  Testament  incidents  were  selected 
which  for  centuries  had  been  interpreted  as  prefigurements 
of  the  life  of  Christ ;  and  each  was  presented  as  a  pendant 
to  the  Gospel  scene  which  it  typified.  These  make  the 
chief  subjects  of  the  coloured  glass  of  Chartres  and  Bourges 
and  other  cathedrals  where  the  windows  are  preserved. 
Here  may  be  seen  the  Passion  of  Christ,  surrounded  by 


84  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

scenes  from  the  Old  Testament  typifying  it ;  likewise  His 
Resurrection  and  its  ancient  types ;  and  other  significant 
incidents  in  the  life  of  the  Saviour  and  His  virgin  mother.1 
The  latter  is  typified  by  the  burning  bush,  by  the  fleece  of 
Gideon,  by  the  rod  of  Aaron,  even  as  in  the  hymns  of  Adam 
of  Saint-Victor.2  Besides  these  incidents,  leading  personages 
of  the  Old  Testament  are  presented  as  prefigurative  of 
Christ,  as  in  the  great  series  of  statues  of  Melchizedek, 
Abraham,  Moses,  Samuel,  David,  on  the  north  portal  of 
Chartres  ;  while  the  four  greater  and  twelve  minor  prophets 
are  shown  as  types  of  the  four  Evangelists  and  the  twelve 
Apostles.  Christ  himself  is  depicted  on  a  window  at  St. 
Denis,  between  the  allegorical  figures  of  the  Ancient  Law 
and  the  Gospel, — figures  which  are  allied  to  those  of  the 
uncrowned  and  blinded  Synagogue  and  the  triumphant 
Church,  so  frequently  seen  together  upon  cathedrals.  Every- 
where the  tendency  to  symbolize  is  strong.  Parts  of  the 
Crucifixion  scene  are  rendered  symbolically,  and  many  of  the 
parables.  That  of  the  Good  Samaritan  constantly  appears 
upon  the  windows,  and  is  always  designed  so  as  to  convey 
the  allegorical  teaching  drawn  from  it  in  Honorius's  sermon.3 
Obviously  this  Mirror  of  History  was  chiefly  sacred 
history.  Pagan  antiquity  was  scantily  suggested  by  the 
Sibyls,  who  stand  for  the  dumb  pagan  prophecy  of  Christ. 
Scenes  from  the  history  of  Christian  nations  were  more 
frequent ;  but  they  always  told  of  some  victory  for  Christ, 
like  the  baptism  of  Clovis,  or  the  crusading  deeds  of 
Charlemagne,  Roland,  or  Godfrey  of  Bouillon.  God's  drama 
closed  with  the  Last  Judgment,  the  damnation  of  the  damned 
and  the  beatitude  of  the  elect.  The  Last  Judgments,  usually 
over-arching  the  tympanums  above  cathedral  doors,  are 
known  to  all — as  at  Rheims,  at  Chartres,  at  Bourges.  They 
are  full  of  symbolism,  and  full  of  "  historic "  reality  as  well. 
The  treatment  becomes  entirely  allegorical  when  the  sculptor 
enters  Paradise  with  the  redeemed,  and  portrays  in  lovely 
personifications  the  beatitudes  of  the  blessed,  as  on  the  north 
portal  of  Chartres. 

1  These  subjects  illustrated  the  series  of  events  celebrated  in  the  calendar  of 
church  services. 

2  Post,  pp.  86  sqq.  *  Ante,  Chapter  XXVII. 


CHAP.  xxix      SYMBOLIC   WORKS  OF  MEN  85 

Those  bands  of  nameless  men  who  carved  the  statues 
and  designed  the  coloured  glass  which  were  to  make  Gothic 
cathedrals  speak,  faithfully  presented  the  teachings  of  the 
Church.  They  rendered  the  sacred  drama  of  mankind's 
creation,  fall,  redemption,  and  final  judgment  unto  hell  or 
heaven :  they  rendered  it  in  all  its  dogmatic  symbolism, 
and  with  a  plastic  adequacy  showing  how  completely  they 
thought  and  felt  in  the  allegorical  medium  in  which  they 
worked.  They  also  created  matchless  ideals  of  symbolism 
in  art.  The  statuary  of  the  portals  and  fagades  of  Rheims 
and  Chartres  are  in  their  way  comparable  to  the  sculptures 
of  the  pediment  of  the  Parthenon.  But  unlike  those  master- 
pieces of  antique  idealism,  these  Christian  masterpieces  do 
not  seek  to  set  forth  mortal  man  in  his  natural  strength 
and  beauty  and  completeness.  Rather  they  seek  to  show 
the  working  of  the  human  spirit  held  within  the  power  and 
grace  of  God.  Theirs  is  not  the  strength  and  beauty  of  the 
flesh,  or  the  excellence  of  the  unconquerable  mind  of  man  ; 
but  in  them  man's  mind  and  spirit  are  palpably  the  devout 
creatures  of  God's  omnipotence,  obedient  to  His  will, 
sustained  and  redeemed  by  His  power  and  grace.  Attitude, 
form,  feature,  alike  designed  to  express  the  sacred  beauty  of 
the  soul,  are  not  invested  with  physical  excellence  for  its 
own  sake  ;  but  every  physical  quality  of  these  statues  is  a 
symbol  of  some  holy  and  beautiful  quality  of  spirit.  These 
statues  attain  a  symbolic,  and  not  a  natural,  ideal  in  art. 
Yet  many  of  them  possess  the  physical  beauty  of  form  and 
feature,  inasmuch  as  such  may  be  the  proper  envelope  for 
the  chaste  and  eager  soul.1 

On  the  other  hand,  in  the  filling  out  of  the  illustrative 
detail  of  life  on  earth,  of  handicraft  and  art,  the  sculptor 
showed  how  he  could  carve  these  actualities,  and  present 
earth's  beauty  in  the  cathedral's  wealth  of  vine  and  flower 
and  leaf.  The  level  commonplace  of  humanity  is  deftly 
rendered,  the  daily  doings  of  the  forge  and  field  and  market- 
place, the  tugging  labourer,  the  merchant  with  his  stuffs,  the 

1  So  the  composition  and  the  arrangement  of  topics  in  the  cathedral  sculpture 
and  glass  have  scarcely  the  excellence  of  natural  grouping.  The  arrangement  is 
intended  to  illustrate  the  series  of  successive  acts  making  up  God's  own  artist- 
composition,  itself  symbolical  of  His  purpose  in  the  creation  and  redemption  of 
man. 


86  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

scholar  with  his  scrolls.  He  knew  life  well,  this  artist,  and 
had  an  eye  for  every  catching  scene,  also  for  Nature's  subtle 
beauties.  Sometimes  a  certain  passing  show  was  represented 
because  a  window  was  given  by  some  drapers'  guild,  desirous 
of  seeing  its  craft  shown  in  a  place  of  honour  ;  and  the 
artist  loved  his  scenes  from  busy  life,  as  he  loved  his 
ornament  from  Nature.  Such  scenes  (which  rarely  held 
specific  allegory)  were  not  unconnected  with  the  rest  of  the 
drama  of  creation  and  redemption  mirrored  in  the  cathedral, 
nor  was  the  exquisitely  cut  leaf  and  rose  without  its  suggestion 
of  the  grace  incarnate  in  the  Virgin  and  her  Son.  Daily 
life  and  natural  ornament  had  at  least  an  illustrative 
pertinency  to  the  whole,  of  which  they  were  unobtrusive  and 
lovely  elements  ;  and  since  that  whole  was  primarily  a  visible 
symbol  of  the  unseen  and  divine  power,  these  humble 
elements  had  part  in  its  unutterable  mystery,  and  were 
likewise  symbols. 

Finally,  have  not  these  nameless  artists — even  as  Dante 
and  our  English  Bunyan — presented  by  their  art  a  synthesis 
of  life's  realities  ?  Their  feet  were  on  the  earth ;  with 
sympathy  and  knowledge  their  hands  worked  in  the  media 
of  things  seen  and  handled,  and  fashioned  the  little  human 
matters  which  are  bounded  by  the  cradle  and  the  grave. 
Such  were  the  materials  from  which  Dante  formed  his 
Commedia,  and  Bunyan  drew  the  Progress  of  his  Pilgrim 
soul  to  God.  Yet  as  with  Bunyan  and  Dante,  so  with 
these  artists  in  stone  and  coloured  light,  the  mortal  and 
the  tangible  were  but  the  elements  through  which  the  poem 
or  story,  or  the  carved  or  painted  picture,  was  made  the 
realizing  symbol  of  the  unseen  and  eternal  Spirit. 


II 

Beneath  the  Abbey  Church  of  Saint- Victor  there  was  a 
crypt  consecrated  to  the  Mother  of  God.  Here  a  certain 
monk  was  wont  to  retire  and  compose  hymns  in  her  honour. 
One  day  his  lips  uttered  the  lines  : 

"  Salve,  mater  pietatis, 
Et  totius  Trinitatis 


CHAP,  xxix      SYMBOLIC  WORKS  OF  MEN  87 

Nobile  triclinium ; 
Vcrbi  tamen  incarnati 
Speciale  majestati 

Praeparans  hospitium ! " 

Whereupon  a  flood  of  light  filled  the  crypt,  and  the  Virgin, 
appearing  to  him,  inclined  her  head. 

The  monk's  name  was  Adam,1  and  he  is  deemed  the  best 
of  Latin  hymn-writers.  Breton  born,  he  entered  Saint- Victor 
in  his  youth,  about  the  year  1130.  He  was  favoured  with 
the  instruction  of  Hugo  till  the  master's  death  in  1141. 
Adam  must  have  been  of  nearly  the  same  age  as  Richard  of 
Saint- Victor,  that  other  pupil  of  Hugo  who  makes  the  third 
member  of  the  great  Victorine  trio.  Their  works  have  been 
the  monastery's  fairest  fame.  Hugo  was  a  Saxon  ;  Adam 
a  Breton  ;  Richard  was  Scotch.  So  Saint- Victor  drew  her 
brilliant  sons  from  many  lands.  Richard,  whose  writings 
worthily  supplemented  those  of  his  master  Hugo,2  died  in 
1173  ;  his  friend  Adam  outlived  him,  and  died  an  old  man 
as  the  twelfth  century  was  closing.  He  was  buried  in  the 
cloister,  and  over  him  was  placed  an  elegiac  epitaph  upon 
human  vanity  and  sin,  in  part  his  own  composition. 

Adam's  hymns  were  Sequences 3  intended  for  church  use. 
Their  author  was  learned  in  Christian  doctrine,  skilled  in  the 
Liturgy,  and  saturated  with  the  spirit  of  devotional  symbolism. 
His  symbolism,  which  his  gift  of  verse  made  into  imagery, 
was  that  of  the  mediaeval  church  and  its  understanding  of 
the  Liturgy  ;  he  also  shows  the  special  influence  of  Hugo. 
Adam's  hymns,  with  their  powerful  Latin  rhymes,  cannot 
be  reproduced  in  English  ;  but  a  translation  may  give  the 
contents  of  their  symbolism.  The  hymn  for  Easter,  beginning 
"  Zyma  vetus  expurgetur," 4  is  an  epitome  of  the  symbolic 
prefiguration  of  Christ  in  the  Old  Testament.  Each  familiar 
allegorical  interpretation  flashes  in  a  phrase.  Literally 
translated,  or  rather  maltreated,  it  is  as  follows : 

1  Adam's  hymns  are  edited   with  notes  and  an  introductory  essay  by  L. 
Gautier,    CEuvres  pottiques  d'Adam   de  S.- Victor  (3rd   ed.,   Paris,    1894).      A 
number  of  his  hymns  will  be  found  in  Migne  196,  col.  1422  sqq.  ;  and  also  in 
Clement's  Carmina  e  poetis  christianis  excerpta.      On   Adam's  verse  see  post, 
Chapter  XXXI I. ,  in. 

2  Dante  draws  much  from  Richard  of  St.  Victor. 

3  See /to/,  Chapter  XXXII.,  HI. 

4  Gautier,  o.c.  p.  46  (Migne  196,  col.  1437). 


88  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

"  Let  the  old  leaven  be  purged  away  that  a  new  resurrection 
may  be  celebrated  purely.  This  is  the  day  of  our  hope ;  wonderful 
is  the  power  of  this  day  by  the  testimony  of  the  law. 

"This  day  despoiled  Egypt,  and  liberated  the  Hebrews  from 
the  fiery  furnace ;  for  them  in  wretched  straits  the  work  of  servitude 
was  mud  and  brick  and  straw.1 

"  Now  as  praise  of  divine  virtue,  of  triumph,  of  salvation,  let  the 
voice  break  free !  This  is  the  day  which  the  Lord  made,  the  day 
ending  our  grief,  the  day  bringing  salvation. 

"  The  Law  is  the  shadow  of  things  to  come,  Christ  the  goal  of 
promises,  who  completes  all.  Christ's  blood  blunts  the  sword  the 
guardians  removed.2 

"  The  Boy,  type  of  our  laughter,  in  whose  stead  the  ram  was 
slain,  seals  life's  joy.3  Joseph  issues  from  the  pit ;  *  Christ  returns 
above  after  death's  punishment 

"  This  serpent  devours  the  serpents  of  Pharaoh  secure  from  the 
serpent's  spite.5  Whom  the  fire  wounded,  them  the  brazen 
serpent's  presence  freed.6 

"  The  hook  and  ring  of  Christ  pierce  the  dragon's  jaw ; "  the 
sucking  child  puts  his  hand  into  the  cockatrice's  den,  and  the  old 
tenant  of  the  world  flees  affrighted.8 

"  The  mockers  of  Elisha  ascending  the  house  of  God,  feel  the 
bald-head's  wrath;9  David,  feigning  madness,  the  goat  cast  forth, 
and  the  sparrow  escape.10 

"With  a  jaw-bone  Samson  slays  a  thousand  and  spurns  the 
marriage  of  his  tribe.  Samson  bursts  the  bars  of  Gaza,  and, 
carrying  its  gates,  scales  the  mountain's  crest.11 

1  The  Hebrews  in  bondage  to  the  Egyptians  are  the  symbol  of  all  men  in  the 
bonds  of  sin. 

2  As  Christ  expires  the   cherubim  at  the  gate  of  Eden  lower  the  flaming 
sword,  so  that  the  men  bathed  with  His  blood  may  pass  in. 

3  Isaac  was  always  a  type  of  Christ ;  his  name  was  interpreted  laughter  (rt'sus) 
from  Gen.  xxi.  6  :  "  And  Sarah  said,  God  hath  made  me  to  laugh,  so  that  all 
that  hear  will  laugh  with  me." 

4  Joseph  another  type  of  Christ. 

6  This  serpent,  i.e.  Christ  the  rod  of  Aaron,  safe  from   the  devil's  spite, 
consumes  the  false  idols. 

6  The  Brazen  Serpent,  a  type  of  Christ.     Cf.  John  iii.  14. 

7  Cf.  Job  xli.  i.     The  hook  (Aamus)  is  Christ's  divinity,  whereby  He  pierces 
the  devil's  jaw. 

8  Cf.  Isa.  xi.  8.     The  guiltless  child  is  Christ,  and  the  cockatrice  is  the  devil. 

9  The  children  who  mocked  Elisha  represent  the  Jews  mocking  Christ  as  He 
ascended  Calvary ;  the  bear  is  Vespasian  and  Titus  who  destroy  Jerusalem. 

10  These  again  are  types  of  Christ :    David   feigning  madness  among   the 
Philistines,   I  Sam.  xxi.   12-15;  tne  g°at  cast  forth  for  the  people's  sins,  Lev. 
xvi.  21,  22  ;  and  the  sparrow  in  the  rite  of  cleansing  from  leprosy,  Lev.  xiv.  2-7. 

11  Samson  a  type  of  Christ,  will  not  wed  a  woman  of  his  tribe  (Judges  xiv. 
1-3)  as  Christ  chooses  the  Gentiles ;  Samson  bursts  open  Gaza's  gates  as  Christ 
the  gates  of  death  and  hell. 


CHAP,  xxix      SYMBOLIC  WORKS  OF  MEN  89 

"  So  the  strong  Lion  of  Judah,  shattering  the  gates  of  dreadful 
death,  rises  the  third  day ;  at  His  lather's  roaring  voice,  He  carries 
aloft  His  spoils  to  the  bosom  of  the  supernal  mother.1 

"  After  three  days  the  whale  gives  back  from  his  belly's  narrow 
house  Jonas  the  fugitive,  type  of  the  true  Jonas.  The  grape  of 
Cyprus  2  blooms  again,  opens  and  grows  apace.  The  synagogue's 
flower  withers,  while  flourishes  the  Church.3 

"  Death  and  life  fought  together :  truly  Christ  arose,  and  with 
Him  many  witnesses  of  glory.  A  new  morn,  a  glad  morn  shall 
wipe  away  the  tears  of  evening :  life  overcame  destruction  ;  it  is  a 
time  of  joy. 

"Jesu  victor,  Jesu  life,  Jesu  life's  beaten  way,  thou  whose 
death  quelled  death,  bid  us  to  the  paschal  board  in  trust.  O  Bread 
of  life,  O  living  Wave,  O  true  and  fruitful  Vine,  do  thou  feed  us,  do 
thou  cleanse  us,  that  thy  grace  may  save  us  from  the  second 
death.  Amen." 

From  the  time  of  that  old  third-century  hymn  ascribed 
to  Clement  of  Alexandria,4  hymns  to  Christ  had  been  filled 
with  symbolism,  the  symbolism  of  loving  personification 
of  His  attributes,  as  well  as  with  the  more  formal  symbolism 
of  His  Old  Testament  prefigurements.  Adam's  symbolism  is 
of  both  kinds.  It  has  feeling  even  when  dogmatic,5  and 
throbs  with  devotion  as  its  theme  approaches  the  Gospel 
Christ.  Prevailing  modes  of  thought  and  feeling  may 
prescribe  topics  for  verse  which  a  succeeding  age  will  find 
curiously  unpoetic.  Yet  if  the  later  time  have  a  sympathetic 
understanding  for  the  past,  it  will  recognize  how  fervid  and 
how  songful  was  that  bygone  verse — the  verse  of  Adam's 
hymns,  for  instance.  In  one  for  Christmas  Day,  beginning : 

"  Potestate,  non  natura, 
Fit  Creator  creatura,"  6 

1  The  allusion  here  is  to  the  statement  of  mediaeval  Bestiaries  that  the  lion 
cub,  when  born,  lies  lifeless  for  three  days,  till  awakened  by  his  father's  roar. 
The  supernal  mother  is  the  Church  triumphant. 

2  The  body  of  Christ,  i.e.  the  Church. 

3  A  topic  everywhere  represented  in  church  windows  and  cathedral  sculpture. 

4  Printed  at  the  end  of  his  Paedagogus ;  see  Taylor,  Classical  Heritage  of 
he  Middle  Ages,  pp.  253-255,  where  it  is  translated. 

5  Although  the  dogmas  of  Christianity  were  formulated  by  reason,  they  were 
cradled  in  love  and  hate.     Nowadays,  in  a  time  when  dogmas  are  apt  to  be 
thought  useless  clogs  to  the  spirit,  it  is  well  for  the  historically-minded  to  remem- 
ber the  power  of  emotional  devotion  which  they  have  inspired  in  other  times. 

6  Gautier,   CEuvres  d'Adam  (ist  ed.,  vol.  i.  p.   n);    Gautier  (3rd  ed.,  p. 
269)  doubts  whether  this  hymn  is  Adam's.     But  for  the  purpose  of  illustrating 
the  symbolism  of  the  twelfth-century  hymn,  the  question  of  authorship  is  not 
important. 


90  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

a  stanza  touches  on  the  reason  why  the  Creator  thus  became 
creature.  It  would  be  impossible  to  render  its  feeling  in 
English,  and  much  circumlocution  would  be  needed  to 
express  even  its  literal  meaning  in  any  language  but 
mediaeval  Latin.  This  stanza  has  twelve  lines : 

"  Causam  quaeris,  modum  rei : 
Causa  prius  omnes  rei, 
Modus  justum  velle  Dei, 
Sed  conditum  gratia." 

"  Thou  askest  cause  and  modus  of  the  fact :  the  causa  rei 
was  before  all,  the  modus  was  God's  righteous  willing,  but  seasoned 
with  grace." 

These  lines  are  scholastic.  In  the  next  four,  the  feeling 
begins  to  rise,  yet  the  phrases  repel  rather  than  attract  us  : 

"  O  quam  dulce  condimentum 
Nobis  mutans  in  pigmentum, 
Cum  aceto  fel  cruentum 
Degustante  Messya ! " 

"  Oh !  how  sweet  the  condiment  changing  for  us  into  juice,  as- 
the  Messiah  tastes  the  bloody  gall  and  vinegar." 

The  feeling  touches  its  climax  with  the  four  concluding 
lines,  in  which  the  parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan  is  invested 
with  the  special  allegorical  significance  set  forth  in  the 
sermon  of  Honorius  : l 

"  O  salubre  sacramentum, 
Quod  nos  ponit  in  jumentum 
Plagis  nostris  dans  unguentum 
I  lie  de  Samaria." 

"O  health-giving  sacrament  which  sets  us  on  a  beast,  giving 
ointment  for  our  stripes, — he  of  Samaria.  "  2 

Two  stanzas  from  another  of  Adam's  Christmas  hymns 

1  Ante,  Chapter  XXVII. 

2  In  these  closing  lines  the  "salubre  sacramentum"  is  in  apposition  to  "  Ille 
de  Samaria" — i.e.  the  "sacramentum"  is  the  Saviour,  who  is  also  typified  by 
the  Good  Samaritan.     In  another  hymn  for  Christmas,  Adam  speaks  of  the 
concurrence  in  one  persona  of  Word,  flesh,  and  spirit,  and  then  uses  the  phrase 
"  Tantae    rei    sacramentum"    (Gautier,   o.c.    p.    5)-       Here    the    sacramentum 
designates  the  visible  human  person  of  Christ,  which  was  the  life-giving  signum 
or  symbol  of  so  great   a  marvel  (tantae  rei)  as  the   Incarnation.      Adam  has- 
Hugo's  teaching  in  mind,  and  the  full  significance  of  his  phrase  will  appear  by 
taking  it  in  connection  with  Hugo's  definition  of  the  Sacrament,  ante.  Chapter 
XXVIII. 


CHAP,  xxix      SYMBOLIC  WORKS  OF  MEN  91 

will  show  how  curiously  intricate  could  be  his  symbolism. 
Having  spoken  of  the  ineffable  wonder  of  the  Incarnation, 
he  proceeds  : 

"  Frondem,  florem,  nucem  sicca 
Virga  profert,  et  pudica 
Virgo  Dei  Filium. 
Fert  coelestem  vellus  rorem, 
Creatura  creatorem, 
Creaturae  pretium. 

"  Frondis,  floris,  nucis,  roris 
Pietati  Salvatoris 

Congruunt  mysteria. 
Frons  est  Christus  protegendo, 
Flos  dulcore,  nux  pascendo, 

Ros  coelesti  gratia."  l 

"A  dry  rod  puts  forth  leafage,  flower,  nut,2  and  a  chaste  Virgin 
brings  forth  the  Son  of  God.  A  fleece  bears  heavenly  dew,3  a 
creature  the  Creator,  the  creature's  price. 

"The  mysteries  of  leafage,  flower,  nut,  dew  are  suited  to  the 
Saviour's  tender  love  (pietas).  The  foliage  by  its  protecting  is 
Christ,  the  flower  is  Christ  by  its  sweetness,  the  nut  as  it  yields 
food,  the  dew  by  its  celestial  grace." 

One  observes  that  here  the  symbolism  first  touches 
Christ's  birth,  the  dry  rod  and  the  fleece  representing  the 
Virgin.  Then  the  leafage,  flower,  nut  and  dew  typify  His 
qualities.  The  remaining  stanzas  of  this  hymn  carry  out  in 
further  detail  the  symbolism  of  the  nut. 

Besides  the  hymns  devoted  to  the  Saviour,  the  greater 
part  of  Adam's  hymns  are  symbolical  throughout.  Those 
written  for  the  dedication  of  churches  are  among  the 
most  interesting.  One  beginning  "  Quam  dilecta  tabernacula" 4 
sketches  the  Old  Testament  facts  which  prefigure  Christ's 
holy  Church.  The  keynote  is  in  the  lines  : 

"  Quam  decora  fundamenta 
Per  concinna  sacramenta 

Umbra  praecurrentia ! " 

1  Gautier,  o.c.  p.  10. 

2  The  reference  is  to  Aaron's  rod  in  Numbers  xvii. 

3  The  reference  is  to  Gideon's  fleece,  Judges  vi.  37,  which  is  a  type  of  the 
Virgin  Mary. 

4  Gautier,    o.c.    ist   ed.,    i.    155    (Migne    196,    col.    1464).     In   his   third 
edition,  Gautier  is  doubtful  of  Adam's  authorship  of  this  hymn   because  of  its 
irregular  rhyme. 


92  THE  MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  v 

"  How  seemly  the  foundations  through  the  appropriate  sacra- 
ments, the  forerunning  shadow." 

The  shadow  is  the  Old  Testament,  and  these  three  lines  sum 
up  the  teaching  of  Hugo  as  to  the  sacramental  nature  of 
the  Old  Testament  narratives.  Throughout  this  hymn 
Adam  follows  Hugo  closely.1  In  another  dedicatory  hymn  2 
Adam  gives  the  prefigurative  meaning  of  the  parts  of 
Solomon's  temple.  There  is  likewise  much  symbolism 
in  the  grand  hymns  addressed  to  the  Virgin.  One  for  the 
festival  of  the  Assumption 3  gives  the  figures  of  the  Virgin 
in  the  Old  Testament — the  throne  of  Solomon,  the  fleece 
of  Gideon,  the  burning  bush.  Then  with  more  feeling  the 
metaphorical  epithets  pour  forth,  voicing  the  heart's  gratitude 
to  the  Virgin's  saving  aid  to  man.  A  still  more  splendid 
example  of  like  symbolism  and  ardent  metaphor  is  the  great 
hymn  beginning  : 

"  Salve  mater  Salvatoris, 
Vas  electum,  vas  honoris," 

which  won  the  Virgin's  greeting  for  the  poet.4 

The  lives  of  Honorius,  of  Hugo,  of  Adam,  from  whose 
works  we  have  been  drawing  illustrations  of  mediaeval 
symbolism,  vie  with  each  other  in  obscurity  ;  and  properly 
enough  since  they  were  monks,  for  whom  self-effacement  is 
becoming.  This  personal  obscurity  culminates  with  one  last 
example  to  be  drawn  from  monastic  sources.  The  man  him- 
self was  an  impressive  figure  in  his  time  ;  a  sight  of  him  was 
not  to  be  forgotten :  he  was  called  magnus  and  doctor 
universalis.  Nevertheless  it  has  been  questioned  whether  he 
lived  in  the  twelfth  or  the  thirteenth  century,  and  whether 
one  man  or  two  bore  the  name  of  Alanus  de  Insulis. 

There  was  in  fact  but  one,  and  he  belongs  to  the  twelfth 
century,  dying  almost  a  centenarian,  in  the  year  1 202.  The 
cognomen  de  Insulis  has  also  been  an  enigma.  From  it  he 
has  been  dubbed  a  Sicilian,  and  then  a  Scot,  born  on  the 
island  of  Mona.  But  the  name  in  reality  refers  to  the  chief 
town  of  Flanders,  which  is  called  Lisle ;  and  Alanus  doubt- 
less was  a  Fleming. 

1  Cf.  Gautier's  notes  to  this  hymn,  Gautier,  o.c.  ist  ed.,  i.  159-167. 

2  Gautier,  o.c.  i.  168.  3  Gautier,  o.c.  ii.  127. 
4  Gautier,  3rd  ed.,  p.  186.     This  is  in  Migne  196,  col.  1502. 


CHAP,  xxix      SYMBOLIC  WORKS  OF  MEN  93 

He  became  a  learned  man,  and  lectured  at  Paris.  That 
he  was  possessed  with  no  small  opinion  of  his  talents  would 
appear  from  the  legend  told  of  him  as  well  as  of  St. 
Augustine.  He  had  announced  that  on  a  certain  day  in 
a  single  lecture  he  would  set  forth  the  complete  doctrine  of 
the  mystery  of  the  most  Holy  Trinity.  The  afternoon  before 
the  day  appointed,  he  walked  by  the  river,  thinking  how  he 
should  arrange  his  subject  so  as  to  include  it  all.  He 
chanced  upon  a  child  who  was  dipping  up  the  river  water 
with  a  snail  shell  and  dropping  it  into  a  little  trench. 
Smiling,  he  asked  what  should  be  the  object  of  this  ;  and 
the  child  told  him  that  he  was  putting  the  whole  river  into 
his  trench.  As  the  great  scholar  was  explaining  that  this 
could  not  be  done,  he  suddenly  felt  himself  chidden  and 
taught — how  much  less  might  he  perform  what  he  had  set 
for  the  next  morning.  He  stood  speechless  at  his  pre- 
sumption, and  burst  into  tears.  The  next  day  ascending 
the  platform  he  said  to  the  crowd  of  auditors,  "  Let  it  suffice 
you  to  have  seen  Alanus  "  ; l  and  with  that  he  left  them  all 
astonished,  and  himself  hastily  set  out  for  Citeaux.  On 
arrival  he  asked  to  be  admitted  as  a  conversus,  and  was 
given  charge  of  the  monastery's  sheep.  Patient  and 
unknown,  he  long  plied  this  humble  vocation.  But  at 
length  it  chanced  that  the  abbot  took  him  to  a  council  at 
Rome,  in  the  capacity  of  hostler.  And  there  he  beat  down 
the  arrogance  of  a, heretic  with  such  arguments  that  the 
latter  cried  out  that  he  was  disputing  either  with  the  devil 
or  Alanus,  and  would  say  no  more. 

Such  is  one  story.  By  another  he  is  made  to  seek  the 
monastery  of  Clairvaux,  and  there  become  a  monk  under 
St.  Bernard.  It  is  also  written  that  he  became  an  abbot, 
and  then  a  bishop,  but  afterwards  resigned  his  bishopric. 
However  all  this  may  have  been,  he  died  and  was  buried, 
and  was  subjected  to  many  epitaphs.  On  what  purports 
to  be  an  old  copy  of  his  tomb  at  Citeaux,  he  is  shown  with 
St.  Bernard,  and  called  Alanus  Magnus.  The  title  Doctor 
universalis  has  always  clung  to  his  memory,  which  will  not 
altogether  fade.  For  if  Adam  of  Saint-Victor  was  the 

1  A  charlatan  in  Salimbene's  Chronicle,  ante,  Chapter  XXI.,  uses   a  like 
phrase. 


94  THE  MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  v 

greatest  of  Latin  mediaeval  hymn-writers,  Alanus  has  good 
claim  to  be  called  the  greatest  of  mediaeval  Latin  poets  in 
the  field  of  didactic  and  narrative  poetry.1 

The  many  works  ascribed  to  Alanus  include  an  allegorical 
Commentary  on  Canticles,  a  treatise  on  the  art  of  preaching, 
a  book  of  sententiae,  another  of  theologicae  regulae,  sundry 
sermons,  and  a  lengthy  work  "  contra  haereticos "  ;  also  a 
large  dictionary  of  Biblical  allegorical  interpretations,  entitled 
Liber  in  distinctionibus  dictionum  theologicalium?  All  these 
are  prose.  He  composed  besides  his  Liber  de  planctu  naturae? 
and  his  Anticlaudianus,  a  learned  and  profound,  and  likewise 
highly  imaginative  allegorical  poem  upon  man.4  Its  Preface 
in  prose  casts  a  curious  light  upon  the  author's  enigmatical 
personality,  which  combined  the  wonted  or  conventional 
humility  of  a  monk  with  the  towering  self-consciousness  of 
a  man  of  genius. 

"The  lightning  scorns  to  spend  its  force  on  twigs,  but  breaks 
the  proud  tops  of  exalted  trees.  The  wind's  imperious  rage  passes 
over  the  reed  and  drives  the  assaults  of  its  wild  blasts  against  the 
highest  summits.  Wherefore  let  not  envy's  flame  strike  the  pinched 
humility  of  my  work,  nor  detraction's  breath  overwhelm  the  driven 
poverty  of  my  little  book,  where  misery's  wreck  demands  a  port  of 
pity,  far  more  than  felicity  provokes  the  sting  of  spite." 

More  sentences  of  turgid  deprecation  follow,  and  the 
author  begs  the  reader  not  to  approach  his  book  with  disgust 
and  irritation,  but  with  pleasant  anticipations  of  novelty  (not 
all  a  monk  speaks  here  ! ). 

"  For  although  the  book  may  not  bloom  with  the  purple  vest- 
ment of  flowering  speech,  nor  shine  with  the  constellated  light  of 
the  flashing  period,  still  in  the  tenuity  of  the  fragile  reed  the  honey's 
sweetness  may  be  found,  and  parched  thirst  can  be  tempered  with 

1  For  the   data  as  to  Alanus  see  the   Prolegomena  to   Migne,   Pat.    Lot. 
210,  which  volume  contains  his  works.      See  also  Haureau,  Mint,  de  Facad.  des 
inscriptions  et  des  belles  lettres,   tome  32  (1886),  p.   I,  etc.  ;  also  Hist.  lit.  de 
France,  tome  1 6,  p.  39^»  etc.    On  Alanus  and  his  place  in  scholastic  philosophy, 
see  post,  Chapter  XXXVI.,  ill. 

2  Migne  210,  col.  686-1012. 

3  Migne  210,  col.  431-481.     See/orf,  Chapter  XXXIL,  i. 

4  The  significance  of  the  title  is  not  quite  clear.     The  poem  is  written  in 
hexametre,  and  is  not  far  from  4700  lines  in  length.      It  is  printed  in  Migne  210, 
col.  486-576  ;  also  edited  by  Thos.  Wright,  Master  of  the  Rolls  Series,  vol.  59, 
ii.  (1872). 


CHAP,  xxix      SYMBOLIC  WORKS  OF  MEN  95 

the  scant  water  of  a  rill.  In  this  book  let  nothing  be  made  vulgar 
(plebcscaf)  with  ribaldry,  nor  let  anything  be  open  to  biting  reproof, 
as  if  it  smacked  of  the  coarseness  of  the  moderns  [to  whom  does 
he  refer  ?] ;  but  let  the  flower  of  my  talent  be  presented,  and  the 
dignity  of  diligence ;  for  pigmy  humility,  thus  raised  upon  a  height, 
may  overtop  the  giant.  Let  not  those  dare  to  tire  of  this  work, 
who  are  squalling  in  the  cradles  of  elementary  instruction,  sucking 
milk  from  nurses'  paps ;  nor  let  those  seek  to  cry  it  down,  who  are 
pledged  to  the  service  of  the  higher  learning ;  nor  those  presume  to 
discredit  it,  who  strike  heaven  from  the  top-notch  of  philosophy. 
For  in  this  work,  the  sWeetness  of  the  literal  meaning  will  tickle  the 
puerile  ear ;  moral  teaching  will  instruct  the  more  proficient  under- 
standing ;  and  the  finer  subtilty  of  allegory  will  sharpen  the  finished 
intellect.  Wherefore  let  all  those  be  kept  from  ingress  who, 
abandoned  to  the  mirrors  of  the  senses,  are  not  charioteered  by 
reason,  and,  pursuing  the  sense-image,  have  no  appetite  for  reason's 
truth, — lest  indeed  what  is  holy  be  defiled  by  dogs,  and  the  pearl  be 
trampled  by  the  feet  of  swine.  But  such  as  will  not  suffer  the 
things  of  reason  to  rest  with  the  base  images,  and  dare  to  lift  their 
view  to  forms  divine,  may  thread  the  narrow  passes  of  my  book, 
while  they  weigh  with  discretion's  scales  what  is  suited  to  the 
common  ear,  and  what  should  be  buried  in  silence." 

This  Preface  of  strained  sentence  and  laboured  metaphor, 
of  forced  humility  and  overweening  self-consciousness,  hardly 
augurs  well  for  the  poem  of  which  it  is  the  prelude.  But 
prefaces  are  authors'  pitfalls,  and,  moreover,  many  writers 
have  floundered  in  one  medium  of  speech  while  in  another 
they  have  moved  with  ease.  From  the  ungainly  prose  of 
the  Persones  Tale,  no  one  would  expect  the  ease  and  force 
of  Chaucer's  verse.  And  the  reader  of  Alanus's  Preface 
need  not  be  discouraged  from  entering  upon  his  poem.  Its 
subject  is  man  ;  its  philosophic  or  religious  purpose  is  to 
expound  the  functions  of  God,  of  Nature,  of  Fortune,  of 
Virtue  and  Vice,  in  making  man  and  shaping  his  career. 
The  poem  is  an  allegory,  original  in  its  general  scheme  of 
composition,  but  in  many  of  its  parts  following  earlier 
allegorical  writings. 

The  opening  lines  tell  of  Nature's  solicitude  to  bestow 
her  gifts  so  that  the  finished  work  may  present  a  fair 
harmony :  as  a  patient  workman  she  forges,  trims  and  files, 
and  fashions  with  reason's  chisel.  But  when  she  seeks  to 
invest  her  work  with  qualities  beyond  her  giving,  she  is 


96  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

obliged  to  call  on  the  Celestial  Council  of  her  Sisters. 
Responding,  pilgrim-like  the  Crown  of  Heaven's  soldiery 
comes  from  on  high,  brightens  the  earth  with  its  light,  and 
clothes  the  ground  with  blessed  footprints. 

Leading  this  galaxy,  Concord  advances,  foster-child  of 
Peace ;  then  Plenty  comes,  and  Favour,  and  Youth  with 
favour  anointed,  and  Laughter,  banisher  of  mental  mists  ; 
then  Shame  and  Modesty,  and  Reason  the  measure  of  good, 
and  Honesty,  Reason's  happy  comrade ;  then  Dignity  (decus) 
and  Prudence  balancing  her  scales,  and  Piety  and  true  Faith, 
and  Virtue.  Last  of  all  Nobility  (nobilitas\  in  grace  not 
quite  the  others'  equal.1 

In  the  midst  of  a  great  wood  blessed  with  fountains  and 
multitudinous  bird-song,  a  cloud-kissing  mountain  rose  with 
level  top.  Nature's  palace  was  erected  here,  gemmed  and 
golden  ;  and  within  was  a  great  hall  hung  upon  bronze 
columns.  Here  the  painter's  art  had  rendered  the  ways  of 
men,  and  inscriptions  made  plain  the  pictured  story.  "  O 
new  wonders  of  painting,"  exclaims  the  poet ;  "  what  cannot 
be,  comes  into  being  ;  and  painting,  the  ape  of  truth,  deluding 
with  novel  art,  turns  shadows  to  realities,  and  transforms 
particular  falsehood  into  (general)  truth." 2  There  might  be 
seen  the  power  of  logic  pressing  its  arguments  and  conquering 
sophistry.  There  Aristotle  was  preparing  his  arms,  and, 
more  divinely,  Plato  mused  on  heaven's  secrets.  There 
Seneca  moralized,  and  Ptolemy  explained  the  stars  in  their 
times  and  courses.  There  spoke  the  word  of  Tully,  while 
Virgil's  muse  painted  many  lies,  and  put  truth's  garb  on 
falsehood.  There  was  also  shown  the  might  of  Alcides  and 
Ulysses'  wisdom,  Turnus's  valour  prodigal  of  life,  and  Hippo- 
lytus's  shame,  undone  by  Venus's  reins.3  Such  and  many 

1  The  poem  is  highly  imaginative  in  the  delineation  of  its  allegorical  figures^ 

2  These  curious  lines  are  as  follows  : 

"  O  nova  picturae  miracula,  transit  ad  esse 
Quod  nihil  esse  potest  !  picturaque  simia  veri, 
Arte  nova  ludens,  in  res  umbracula  rerum 
Vertit,  et  in  verum  mendacia  singula  mutat." 

Anticlaudianus,  i.  cap.  iv. 
(Migne  196,  col.  491.) 

3  The   allusion  here  is   to  the    fate    of  Hippolytus,   whose   chariot-horses, 
maddened  by  the  wiles  of  Venus,  dashed  the  chariot  to  pieces  and  caused  their 
lord's  death. 


CHAP,  xxix      SYMBOLIC  WORKS  OF  MEN  97 

other  tropes  of  things  and  dreams  of  truth,  this  royal  art  set 
forth. 

Here,  standing  in  the  midst  of  her  Council,  Nature,  with 
bowed  head,  spoke  her  solemn  words  :  "  Painfully  I  remake 
what  my  hand's  solicitude  has  wrought.  But  the  hand's 
penitence  does  not  wipe  out  the  flaws.  The  shortcomings 
of  our  works  must  be  repaired  by  some  perfect  model,  some 
man  divine,  not  smelling  of  the  earth  and  earthly,  but  whose 
mind  shall  hold  to  heaven  while  his  body  walks  the  earth. 
Let  him  be  the  mirror  in  which  we  may  see  what  our  faith, 
our  potency,  and  virtue  ought  to  be.  As  it  is,  our  shame  is 
over  all  the  earth." 

When  the  Council  had  approved  these  words,  Prudence 
arose  in  all  her  beauty.1  She  discoursed  upon  man's  dual 
nature,  spirit  and  body.  Nature  and  her  helpers  may  be 
the  artificers  of  his  mortal  body,  but  the  soul  demands  its 
heavenly  Artificer,  and  laughs  at  our  rude  arts.  God's 
wisdom  alone  can  create  the  soul,  as  Prudence  shows  by  an 
exposition  of  its  qualities. 

Now  Reason  raised  his  reverend  form,  holding  his  triple 
glass  in  which  appear  the  causes  and  effects  and  qualities  of 
things.  He  humbly  disclaimed  the  power  to  instruct 
Minerva,2  and  applauded  the  plan  by  which  a  new  Lucifer 
should  sojourn  in  the  world.  May  he  unite  all  the  gifts 
which  they  can  bestow,  and  be  their  champion  against  the 
Vices.  Now  let  their  suppliant  vows  be  sped  to  Him  who 
alone  can  create  the  divine  mind.  A  legate  should  be 
despatched  above,  bearing  their  request.  For  this  office 
none  is  so  fit  as  Prudence,  to  whom  the  secrets  of  Heaven 
are  known,  and  whose  energy  and  wisdom  will  surmount 
the  difficulties  of  the  way. 

Prudence  at  first  refuses ;  but  Concordia  rises,  the 
inspirer  of  chaste  loves,  she  who  knit  the  souls  of  David 
and  Jonathan,  Pirithous  and  Theseus,  Nisus  and  Euryalus, 
Orestes  and  Pylades.  Persuasively  she  speaks,  and  points 
out  all  the  ills  the  world  had  suffered  by  disobedience  to  her 
behests.  Prudence  is  won  over  to  the  task,  and  now  wills 

1  i.  cap.  vi.     Her  garb  and  attributes  are  elaborately  told.     In  the  latter 
part  of  the  poem  she  is  usually  called  Phronesis. 

2  A  favourite  commonplace  ;  Heloise  uses  it. 

VOL.  II  H 


98  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

only  as  her  sisters  will.  She  thinks  upon  the  means  and 
way.  Wisdom  orders  a  chariot  to  be  made,  in  which  the 
sea,  the  stars,  the  heavens  may  be  traversed.  Its  artificers 
are  her  seven  daughters,  wise  and  fair,  who  unite  the  skill 
and  knowledge  of  all  those  wise  ancients  who  had  excelled 
in  any  Art.  First  Grammar  (her  functions  and  great  writers 
being  told)  forms  the  pole  which  goes  before  the  axle-tree 
(temo  praeambulus  axis}.  Then  Logic  makes  the  axle-tree  ; 
and  Rhetoric  adorns  the  pole  with  gems  and  the  axle  with 
flowers.  Arithmetic  constructs  one  wheel  of  the  chariot,  and 
Music  the  second,  Geometry  the  third,  and  the  fourth  wheel 
is  made  by  Astronomy.1 

Now  Reason,  at  Nature's  nod,  yokes  to  the  chariot  the 
five  horses,  to  wit,  the  Senses  disciplined  and  controlled, 
Sight,  Hearing,  Smell,  Taste,  and  Touch.  He  himself  mounts 
as  charioteer,  and  bids  Prudence  follow.  Amid  the  farewells 
and  plaudits  of  all,  the  chariot  soars  aloft.  As  it  speeds 
along,  Prudence  investigates  atmospheric  phenomena,  and 
then  the  spirits  of  evil  who  wander  through  the  air.  They 
passed  on  through  the  upper  ether,  reached  the  citadel  and 
fount  of  light,  where  the  Sun  holds  sway ;  next  was  reached 
the  region  where  Venus  and  the  star  of  Mercury  sing 
together  and  Lucifer  exults,  the  herald  of  the  day.  Then  to 
their  rapid  flight  appeared  Mars'  flaming  palace,  seething 
with  fire  and  wrath.  Onward  they  passed  to  the  glad  light 
and  unhurtful  flames  of  Jupiter,  and  then  to  Saturn's  sphere. 
At  length  they  ascended  the  stellar  region  where  the  Pole 
stars  contend  in  brightness,  where  are  seen  Hercules  and 
Orion,  Leda's  twins,  the  fiery  Crab,  the  Lion,  and  the  rest  of 
the  Zodiac's  constellations.2 

Here  at  heaven's  entrance  the  chariot  halted.  Those 
five  horses  of  the  Senses,  charioteered  by  Reason,  could 
ascend  no  farther.  But  a  damsel  was  seen,  seated  upon  the 
summit  of  the  Pole.  She  scrutinizes  the  hidden  Cause  and 
End  of  all  things,  holding  scales  in  her  right  hand  and  in 
her  left  a  sceptre.  On  her  vestments  a  subtile  point  traces 

1  The  functions  of  these  virgins,  the  Seven  Liberal  Arts,  arc  poetically  told. 
The  Anticlaudianus  is  no  text-book.     But  the  poet  apparently  is  following  the 
De  nuptiis  Philologiae  el  Mercurii  of  Martianus  Capella,  ante,  Chapter  IV. 

2  Compare  the  succession  of  Heavens  in  Dante's  Paradise. 


CHAP,  xxix      SYMBOLIC  WORKS  OF  MEN  99 

God's  secrets,  and  the  formless  is  figured  in  form.  Reverently 
Phronesis,  that  is  Prudence,  saluted  this  Queen  of  the  Pole, 
and  set  forth  the  purpose  of  her  journey,  telling  of  Nature's 
desire  and  her  limitations.  In  reply  Theology,  for  it  is  she,1 
offered  herself  as  a  companion,  and  bade  Prudence  leave  her 
chariot,  but  keep  the  second  courser  (Hearing)  to  bear  her 
on.  Prudence  now  surmounted  the  starry  citadels,  and 
marvelled  at  heaven's  nodes,  where  the  four  ways  begin  and 
the  crystalline  waters  flow,  shot  with  agreeing  fires ;  for 
here,  in  universal  harmony  transcending  Nature's  laws  and 
Reason's  power,  Concord  unites  those  elements  which  war 
below.  Onward  leads  the  way  among  those  joys  celestial 
which  know  no  tears,  where  there  is  peace  without  hate,  and 
light  above  all  brightness.  Here  dwell  the  angel  bands, 
the  Thunderer's  princes,  regulators  of  the  world  ;  here  glow 
the  seraphim,  and  cherubim  drain  draughts  from  the  mind 
of  God  ;  and  here  are  the  Thrones  whereon  God  balances 
His  weighed  decrees,  and  with  His  band  of  Powers  conquers 
the  tyrants.2  Here  also  rest  the  saints,  freed  from  earth's 
dross  and  passion,  clothed  in  virgin  white  or  martyr's  purple, 
or  wearing  the  Doctor's  laurel.  Joyful  alike  are  they,  yet 
diverse  in  merit,  shining  with  unequal  splendour.3  Here 
finally,  in  honour  surpassing  all,  is  the  Virgin  Mother,  clad 
in  the  garb  of  our  salvation — Star  of  the  Sea,  Way  of  Life, 
Port  of  Salvation,  Limit  of  Piety,  Mother  of  Pity,  Garden 
closed,  Sealed  Font,  Fruitful  Olive,  Sweet  Paradise,  Rose 
without  Thorn,  Guiltless  Grace,  Way  of  the  Wanderer,  Light 
of  the  Blind,  Rest  of  the  Tired — untold,  unnumbered,  and 
unspeakable  are  her  praises.4 

Phronesis  cannot  bear  the  sight.  Queen  Theology  calls 
to  her  sister  Faith  to  aid  the  fainting  one.  Faith  comes 
and  holds  her  Mirror  before  the  eyes  of  Phronesis  ;  and  in 
this  glass  her  eyes  can  endure  the  shaded  glory  of  the 
overpowering  vision.  She  staggers  on,  her  trembling  steps 

1  One  may  recall  Raphael's  painting  of  Theology  on  the  ceiling  of  the 
Stanza  del  Segnatura  in  the  Vatican.  It  is  impossible  not  to  compare  the  roles 
of  Alan's  Reason  and  Theology  with  those  of  Virgil  and  Beatrice  in  the  Commcdia. 

8  Here  we  are  back  in  the  Celestial  Hierarchy  of  Dionysius  the  Areopagite. 

3  As  in  Dante's  Paradise. 

4  Most  of  these  epithets  of  the  Virgin  come  from  allegorical  interpretation* 
of  the  text  of  the  Vulgate. 


ioo  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

supported  by  Faith  and  Theology.  In  the  glass  she  sees 
the  eternal  and  divine,  the  enduring,  moveless,  sure  ;  species 
unborn,  celestial  ideas,  the  forms  of  men  and  principles  of 
things,  causes  of  causes  and  the  course  of  fate,  the  Thunderer's 
mind  ;  why  God  condemns  some,  predestines  others,  prepares 
that  one  for  life  and  from  this  one  withdraws  His  rewards  ; 
why  poverty  presses  upon  some  and  want  is  filled  only  with 
tears  ;  why  riches  pour  on  others,  why  one  is  wise,  another 
lacking,  and  why  the  worthies  of  the  past  have  been  endowed 
each  with  his  several  gifts.1 

Marvelling  at  all  these  sights,  Prudence,  supported  by 
the  sisters,  reached  at  last  the  palace  of  the  King,  and  fell 
prostrate  before  God  himself.  He  bade  her  rise,  and  speak. 
Humbly  she  set  forth  Nature's  plight  and  the  evil  upon 
earth,  and  presented  her  petition.  God  accedes  benignantly. 
He  will  not  destroy  the  earth  again,  but  will  send  a  human 
spirit  endowed  with  heavenly  gifts,  a  pilgrim  to  the  earth,  a 
medicine  for  the  world.  Prudence  worships.  God  summons 
Mind,  and  orders  him  to  fashion  the  type-form,  the  idea  of 
the  human  mind.  Mind  searches  among  existing  beings  for 
the  traces  of  this  new  idea  or  type.2  His  difficult  search 
succeeds  at  last,  and  in  the  Mirror  which  he  constructs,  every 
grace  takes  its  abode :  Joseph's  form,  the  intelligence  of 
Judith,  the  patience  of  righteous  Job,  the  modesty  of  Moses, 
Jacob's  simplicity,  Abraham's  faith,  Tobias's  piety.  He 
presents  this  pattern-type  to  God,  who  sets  an  accordant 
soul  therein,  and  then  entrusts  the  new-made  being  to 
Phronesis,  while  Mind  anoints  it  with  an  unguent  against  the 
attacks  of  the  Vices.  Phronesis,  with  her  prize,  turned  to 
the  way  by  which  she  had  ascended,  regained  her  chariot 
and  Reason  her  charioteer.  Together  they  sped  back  to  the 
congratulations  of  Nature  and  her  Council. 

For  this  perfect  soul  Nature  now  forms  a  beautiful  body. 
Concord  unites  the  two,  and  a  new  man  is  formed,  perfect 
and  free  from  flaw.  Chastity  and  guardian  Modesty  endow 
him  with  their  gifts  ;  Reason  adds  his,  and  Honesty.  These 
Logic  follows,  with  her  gift  of  skill  in  argument ;  Rhetoric 
brings  her  stores,  then  Arithmetic,  next  Music,  next  Geometry, 

1  Compare  the  final  vision  of  Dante  in  Paradiso,  xxxiii. 
2  The  reader  will  notice  the  Platonism  and  Neo-Platonism  of  all  this. 


CHAP,  xxix      SYMBOLIC  WORKS  OF  MEN  101 

next  Astronomy  ; l  while  Theology  and  Piety  are  not  behind 
with  theirs ;  and  to  these  Faith  joins  her  gifts  of  fidelity  and 
truth.  Last  of  all  comes  Nobility,  Fortune's  daughter.  But 
because  she  has  nothing  of  her  own  to  give,  and  must 
receive  all  from  her  mother,  she  betakes  herself  to  Fortune's 
house  of  splendid  mutability.  What  will  Fortune  give  ?  The 
two  return  to  Nature's  palace,  and  Fortune's  magnificence 
is  proffered  by  her  daughter  ;  but  Reason,  standing  by,  will 
allow  only  a  measured  acceptance.2 

The  report  of  this  richly  endowed  creature  reached 
Alecto.  Raging  she  summoned  her  pests,  the  chiefs  of 
Tartarus,  doers  of  ill,  masters  of  every  sin — Injury,  Fraud, 
Perjury,  Theft,  Rapine,  Fury  and  Anger,  Hate,  Discord, 
Strife,  Disease  and  Melancholy,  Lust,  Wantonness  and 
Need,  Fear  and  Old  Age.  She  roused  them  with  a 
harangue :  their  rule  is  threatened  by  this  upstart  Creature, 
whom  Parent  Nature  has  prepared  for  war ;  but  what  can 
his  untried  imbecility  do  against  them  in  arms  ? 

All  clamour  assent,  and  in  a  tumult  of  rage  make  ready 
for  the  strife.  The  hostile  ranks  approach.  The  first  attack 
is  made  by  Folly  (Stultitia)  and  her  comrades,  Sloth, 
Gaming,  Idle  Jesting,  Ease  and  Sleep.  But  faithful  Virtues 
protect  the  constant  youth  against  these  foes.  Next  Discord 
leads  its  mutinous  band,  but  only  to  defeat.  Onslaughts 
follow  from  Poverty,  next  from  Ill-Repute,  from  Old  Age 
and  Disease.  Then  Grieving  advances,  and  is  overthrown  by 
Laughter.  More  deadly  still  are  the  attacks  of  Venus  and 
Lust  ;  then  Excess  and  Wantonness  take  up  the  fray  ;  and 
at  the  end  Impiety  and  Fraud  and  Avarice.  But  still  the 
man  conquers  with  the  aid  of  his  Virtues  ever  true. 

The  fight  is  over.  The  Virtues  triumph  and  receive 
their  Kingdoms  ;  Vice  succumbs  ;  Love  reigns  instead  of 
Discord  ;  the  man  is  blessed  ;  and  the  earth,  adorned  with 
flowers  in  a  new  spring  of  youth,  brings  forth  abundance. 
The  Poet  sums  up  his  poem's  teaching :  From  God  must 
everything  begin  and  in  Him  end.  But  our  genius  may  not 

1  Notice  that  the  Arts  are  here  equipping  and  perfecting  the  man  for  his 
fight  against  sin ; — which  corresponds  with  the  common  mediaeval  view  of  the 
function  of  education. 

2  The  poem  gives  a  full  description  of  Fortune  and  her  house,  and  unstable 
splendid  gifts. 


102  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

stand  inert ;  ours  is  the  strife  as  well,  according  to  our 
strength  and  faculty.  Let  the  mind  attach  itself  to  the 
things  which  are  and  do  not  pass,  even  as  Plato  sings,  from 
things  of  sense  reaching  on  ever  to  the  grades  Angelic  and 
Olympus's  steeps.  Then  it  shall  behold  the  universal  praise 
of  God  and  the  true  ascription  of  all  good  to  Him.  He 
in  himself  is  perfect,  Part  and  likewise  Whole,  and  every- 
where uncircumscribed.  Nothing  has  power  in  itself,  but 
all  would  fall  to  nothing,  did  He  close  the  flux  of  hidden 
power. 

Alanus,  a  good  Christian  Doctor,  is  also  an  eclectic  in  his 
thought.  A  consistent  system  is  hardly  to  be  drawn  from 
his  poem.  It  suggests  Christ.  But  its  hero  is  not  the  God- 
man  of  the  Incarnation.  Its  figures  are  semi-pagan.  The 
virtue  Faith,  for  example,  is  the  Fides,  the  Good  Faith,  of 
the  antique  Roman,  though  it  is  the  Christian  virtue  Faith 
as  well.  In  language  the  poem  is  antique  ;  its  verse  has 
vigorous  flow  ;  its  imagery  lacks  neither  beauty  nor  sub- 
limity. It  is  in  fact  a  poem,  a  creation,  having  a  scheme 
and  unity  of  its  own,  although  the  author  borrows  con- 
tinually. Martianus  Capella  is  there  and  Dionysius  the 
Areopagite  ;  there  also  is  the  Psychomachia  of  Prudentius 
and  its  progeny  of  symbolic  battles  between  the  Virtues  and 
the  Vices.1  Yet  Alanus  has  achieved  ;  for  he  has  woven  his 
material  into  a  real  poem  and  has  reared  his  own  lofty 
allegory.  His  work  is  another  grand  example  of  mediaeval 
symbolism. 

Thus  we  see  the  ceaseless  sweep  of  allegory  through 
men's  minds.  They  felt  and  thought  and  dreamed  in 
allegories  ;  and  also  spent  their  dry  ingenuity  on  allegorical 
constructions.  It  was  reserved  for  one  supreme  poet  to 
create,  out  of  this  atmosphere,  a  supreme  poem  which  is 
as  complete  an  allegory  as  the  Anticlaudianus.  But  the 

1  But  the  different  names  of  Alanus 's  Virtues  and  Vices,  and  their  novel 
antagonisms,  indicate  an  original  view  of  morality  with  him.  On  the  Psychomachia 
see  Taylor,  Classical  Heritage,  pp.  278  sqq.  and  379.  Allegorical  combats  and 
dtbats  (both  in  Latin  and  in  the  vernacular  tongues)  are  frequent  in  mediaeval 
literature.  Cf.  e.g.  post,  Chapter  XXX.  Again,  in  certain  parabolae  ascribed  to 
St.  Bernard  (Migne  183,  col.  757  sqq.)  the  various  virtues,  Prudentia,  Fortitude, 
Discretio,  Temperantia,  Spes,  Timor,  Sapientia,  are  so  naturally  made  to  act 
and  speak,  that  one  feels  they  had  become  personalities  proper  for  poetry  and  art. 
Compare  Hildegard's  characterizations  of  the  Vices,  ante,  Chapter  XIX. 


CHAP,  xxix      SYMBOLIC  WORKS  OF  MEN  103 

Divina  Commedia  has  also  the  power  of  its  human 
realities  of  actually  experienced  pain  and  joy,  and  hate  and 
love.  Compared  with  it,  the  Anticlaudianus  betrays  the 
vapourings  of  monk  and  doctor,  imaginative  indeed,  but 
thin.  The  author's  feet  were  not  planted  on  the  earth  of 
human  life. 

But  the  Middle  Ages  did  not  demand  that  allegory 
should  have  its  feet  planted  on  the  earth,  so  long  as  its  head 
nodded  high  among  the  clouds — or  its  sentiments  wandered 
sweetly  in  fancy's  gardens.  In  one  of  these  dwelt  that 
lovely  Rose,  whose  Roman  once  had  vogue.  In  structure 
the  Roman  de  la  rose  is  an  allegory  from  the  beginning  of 
the  first  part  by  De  Lorris  to  the  very  end  of  that  encyclo- 
paedic sequel  added  by  De  Meun.  The  story  is  well 
known.1  One  may  recall  the  fact  that  in  De  Lorris's  poem 
and  De  Meun's  sequel  every  quality  and  circumstance  of 
Love's  sentiment  and  fortunes  are  figured  in  allegorical 
personifications — all  the  lover's  hopes  and  fears  and  the 
wavering  chances  of  his  quest. 

In  this  respect  the  poem  is  the  courtly  and  romantic 
counterpart  of  such  a  philosophical  or  religious  allegory 
as  the  Anticlaudianus.  Personifications  of  the  arts  and 
sciences,  the  vices  and  virtues,  current  since  the  time  of 
Prudentius's  Psychomachia  and  Capella's  Nuptials  of  Philo- 
logy, were  all  in  the  Anticlaudianus,  while  in  the  Roman 
de  la  rose  figure  their  secular  and  romantic  kin :  in 
De  Lorris's  part,  Love,  Fair-Welcome,  Danger,  Reason, 
Franchise,  Pity,  Courtesy,  Shame,  Fear,  Idleness,  Jealousy, 
Wicked-Tongue ;  then,  with  De  Meun,  others  besides : 
Richesse,  False-Seeming,  Hypocrisy,  Nature,  and  Genius.2 
The  figures  of  the  Roman  de  la  rose  have  diverse  antecedents 

1  The  English  reader  will  derive  much  pleasure  from  F.  S.  Ellis's  admirable 
verse  translation  :  The  Romance  of  the  Rose  (Dent  and  Co.,  London,  1900). 
Each  of  the  three  little  volumes  of  this  translation  has  a  convenient  synopsis  of 
the  contents.  Those  who  would  know  what  is  known  of  the  tale  and  its  authors 
should  read  Langlois's  chapter  on  it,  in  Histoirr.  de  la  langue  et  de  la  literature 
franfaise,  edited  by  Petit  de  Julleville.  It  may  be  said  here,  for  those  whose 
memories  need  refreshing,  that  William  de  Lorris  wrote  the  first  part,  some  forty- 
two  hundred  lines,  about  the  year  1237,  and  died  leaving  it  unfinished  ;  John  de 
Meun  took  up  the  poem  some  thirty  years  afterwards,  and  added  his  sequel  of 
more  than  eighteen  thousand  lines. 

8  The  names  are  Englished  after  Ellis's  translation. 


104  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v 

scattered  through  the  entire  store  of  knowledge  and  classic 
literature  possessed  by  the  Middle  Ages ;  perhaps  their 
immediate  source  of  inspiration  was  the  scheme  of  courtly 
love  which  the  mediaeval  imagination  elaborated  and 
revelled  in.1  The  poem  of  De  Lorris  was  a  veritable 
romantic  allegory.  De  Meun,  in  his  sequel,  rather  plays 
with  the  allegorical  form,  which  he  continues  ;  it  has  become 
a  frame  for  his  stores  of  learning,  his  knowledge  of  the 
world,  his  views  of  life,  his  wit  and  satire,  and  his  great 
literary  and  poetic  gifts.  Yet  it  ends  in  a  regular 
Psychomachia,  in  which  Love's  barons  are  hard  beset  by  all 
the  foes  of  Love's  delight,  though  Love  has  its  will  at  last. 

1  See  ante,  Chapter  XXIII.  ;  De  Meun  took  much  from  the  De  planttu 
naturae  of  Alarms. 


BOOK   VI 
LATINITY  AND   LAW 


105 


CHAPTER    XXX 

THE    SPELL    OF    THE   CLASSICS 

I.  CLASSICAL  READING. 
II.  GRAMMAR. 

III.  THE  EFFECT  UPON  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MAN  ;    HILDEBERT  OF 
LAVARDIN. 

I 

DURING  all  the  mediaeval  centuries,  men  approached  the 
Classics  expecting  to  learn  from  them.  The  usual  attitude 
toward  the  classical  heritage  was  that  of  docile  pupils 
looking  for  instruction.  One  may  recall  the  antecedent 
reasons  of  this,  which  have  already  been  stated  at  length. 
In  Italy,  letters  survived  as  the  most  impressive  legacy  from 
an  overshadowing  past.  In  the  north,  save  where  they 
lingered  on  from  the  antique  time,  they  came  in  the  train 
of  Latin  Christianity,  and  were  offered  to  men  under  the 
same  imposing  conditions  of  a  higher  civilization  authori- 
tatively instructing  ruder  peoples.  Moreover,  between  the 
ancient  times  which  produced  the  classic  literature  and  the 
Carolingian  period  there  intervened  centuries  of  degeneracy 
and  transition,  when  the  Classics  were  used  pedagogically  to 
teach  grammar  and  rhetoric.  Then  grammars  were  com- 
posed or  revised,  and  other  handbooks  of  elementary 
instruction.  The  Classics  still  wer?  loved  ;  but  how  shall 
men  love  beyond  their  own  natures  ?  Gifted  Jerome,  great 
Augustine,  loved  them  with  an  ardour  bringing  its  own 
misgivings.  Other  lovers,  like  Ausonius  and  Apollinaris 
Sidonius,  were  pedantic  imitators. 

Both  north  and  south  of  the  Alps  another  and  obviously 
enduring  cause  fostered  the  habit  of  regarding  the  Classics 

107 


108  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

as  storehouses  of  knowledge :  the  fact  that  they  were  such 
for  all  the  mediaeval  centuries.  They  included  not  only 
poetry  and  eloquence,  but  also  history,  philosophy,  natural 
knowledge,  law  and  polity.  The  knowledge  contained  in 
them  exceeded  what  the  men  of  western  Europe  otherwise 
possessed.  As  century  after  century  passed,  mediaeval  men 
learned  more  for  themselves,  and  also  drew  more  largely  on 
the  classic  store.  Yet  it  remained  unexhausted.  The 
twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  constitute  the  great  mediaeval 
epoch.  Men  were  then  opening  their  eyes  a  little  to  observe 
the  natural  world,  and  were  thinking  a  little  for  themselves. 
Nevertheless  the  chief  increase  in  knowledge  issued  from  the 
gradual  discovery  and  mastering  of  the  works  of  Aristotle. 
These  centuries,  like  their  predecessors,  make  clear  that  men 
who  inherit  from  a  greater  past  a  universal  literature  con- 
taining the  best  they  can  conceive  and  more  knowledge  than 
they  can  otherwise  attain,  will  be  likely  to  regard  every  part  of 
this  literature  as  in  some  way  a  source  of  knowledge,  physical 
or  metaphysical,  historical  or  ethical.  And  the  Classics 
merited  such  regard  ;  for  where  they  did  not  instruct  in 
science,  they  imparted  knowledge  of  life,  and  norms  and 
instances  of  conduct,  from  which  men  still  may  draw  guidance. 
We  have  outlearned  the  physics,  and  perhaps  the  meta- 
physics of  the  Greeks ;  their  knowledge  of  nature,  in  com- 
parison with  ours,  was  but  as  a  genial  beginning ;  their 
polities  and  their  formal  ethics  we  have  tried  and  tested  ; 
but  we  have  not  risen  above  the  power  and  inspiration  of 
the  story  of  Greece  and  Rome,  and  the  exemplifications  of 
life  in  the  Greek  and  Latin  Classics.  It  has  not  ceased  to 
be  true  that  he  who  best  loves  the  Classics,  and  most  deeply 
feels  and  glories  in  their  unique  excellence  as  literature,  is  he 
who  still  draws  life  from  them,  and  discipline  and  knowledge. 
Their  true  lovers,  like  the  true  lovers  of  all  noble  literature, 
are  always  in  a  state  of  pupilage  to  the  poems  and  the 
histories  they  love. 

Obviously  then  no  final  word  lies  in  the  statement  that 
through  the  Middle  Ages  men  turned  to  the  Classics  for 
instruction.  They  did  indeed  turn  to  them  for  all  kinds 
of  knowledge,  and  for  discipline.  Often  they  looked  for 
instruction  from  Ovid  or  Virgil  in  a  way  to  make  us  smile. 


CHAP,  xxx          SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  109 

Often  they  were  like  schoolboys,  dully  conning  words  which 
they  did  not  feel  and  so  did  not  understand.  But  in  the 
tenth  century,  and  in  the  twelfth,  some  men  admired  and 
loved  the  Latin  Classics,  and  drew  from  them,  as  we  may, 
lessons  which  are  learned  only  by  those  who  love  aright. 

It  would  be  hard  to  say  what  the  men  of  the  Middle 
Ages  did  not  thus  gain.  The  pagan  classical  literature  was 
one  of  humanity  in  its  full  range  of  interests.  This  was 
true  of  the  Greek  ;  and  from  the  Greek,  the  universal  human 
passed  to  the  Latin,  which  the  Middle  Ages  were  to  know. 
In  both  literatures,  man  was  a  denizen  of  earth.  The  laws 
of  mortality  and  fate  were  held  before  his  eyes  ;  and  the 
action  of  the  higher  powers  bore  upon  mortal  happiness, 
rather  than  upon  any  life  to  come.  When  reflecting  upon 
the  use  and  influence  of  the  Classics  through  the  Middle 
Ages,  it  is  always  to  be  kept  in  mind  that  the  antique 
literature  was  the  literature  of  this  life  and  of  this  world  ; 
that  it  was  universal  in  its  humanity,  and  still  in  the  Middle 
Ages  might  touch  every  human  love  and  human  interest 
not  directly  connected  with  the  hopes  and  terrors  of  the 
Judgment  Day. 

So  whenever  educated  mediaeval  men  were  drawn  by  the 
ambitions  or  moved  by  the  finer  joys  of  human  life,  it  lay 
in  their  path  to  seek  instruction  or  satisfaction  from  some 
antique  source.  If  a  man  wished  the  common  education 
of  a  clerk,  he  drew  it  from  antique  text-books  and  their 
commentaries.  Grammar  and  rhetoric  meant  Latin  grammar 
and  Latin  rhetoric  ;  dialectic  also  was  Latin  and  antique. 
Likewise  the  quadrivium  of  arithmetic,  geometry,  astronomy, 
and  music,  could  be  studied  only  in  Latin.  These  ordinary 
branches  of  education  having  been  mastered,  if  then  the 
man's  tastes  or  ambitions  turned  to  the  interests  of  earth 
(and  who  except  the  saintly  recluse  was  not  so  drawn  ?) 
he  would  still  look  to  the  antique.  A  civilian  or  an  ecclesi- 
astic would  need  some  knowledge  of  law,  which  for  the 
most  part  was  Roman,  even  when  disguised  as  Canon  law.1 
Did  a  man  incline  toward  philosophy,  and  the  scrutiny  of 
life's  deeper  problems,  again  the  source  was  the  antique  ; 
and  when  he  lifted  his  mind  to  theology,  he  would  still  find 

1  Post,  Chapter  XXXIII. 


no  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vi 

himself  reasoning  in  categories  of  antique  dialectic.  Finally, 
and  this  was  a  broad  field  of  humane  inclination,  if  a  clerkly 
educated  man  loved  poetry,  eloquence,  and  history,  for  their 
own  sakes,  he  also  would  turn  to  the  antique. 

There  is  scarcely  need  to  revert  again  to  the  use  of  the 
Classics  in  the  earlier  Middle  Ages.  We  have  seen  that  in 
Italy  they  never  ceased  to  form  the  conscious  background 
to  all  intellectual  life  ;  and  that  in  the  north,  letters  came  a 
handmaid  in  the  train  of  Latin  Christianity — a  handmaid 
that  was  apt  to  assert  her  own  value,  and  also  charm  the 
minds  of  men.  From  the  first,  it  was  the  orthodox  view 
that  Latin  letters  should  provide  the  education  enabling  men 
to  understand  the  Christian  religion  adequately.  This  is 
the  object  set  forth  in  Charlemagne's  Capitularies  upon 
education.1  Three  hundred  years  later  Honorius  of  Autun 
says  in  his  sermonizing  way  : 

"  Not  only,  beloved,  do  the  sacred  writings  lead  us  to  eternal 
life,  but  profane  letters  also  teach  us ;  for  edifying  matter  may  be 
drawn  from  them.  In  view  of  sacred  examples  no  one  should 
be  scandalized  at  this.  For  the  children  of  Israel  spoiled  the 
Egyptians ;  they  took  gold  and  silver,  gems  and  precious  vestments, 
which  they  afterwards  turned  into  God's  treasury  to  build  the 
tabernacle."  2 

Honorius  used  Augustine's  reference  to  the  Egyptians, 
and  followed  this  Augustinian  view,  always  recognized  as 
orthodox  in  the  Middle  Ages.  It  was  narrower  than  the 
practice  among  those  who  followed  letters.  Gerbert  at  the 
close  of  the  tenth  century  loved  to  teach  and  read  the  pagan 
writers,  and  drew  from  them  training  and  discipline.8  In 
the  next  century,  the  German  monk  Froumund  of  Tegernsee, 
with  Bern  ward  and  Godehard,  bishops  of  Hildesheim,  are 
instances  of  German  love  of  antique  letters.4  Yet  lofty 
souls  might  choose  to  limit  their  reading  of  the  Classics,  at 
least  in  theory,  to  the  needs  of  their  Latinity.  Such  a  one 
was  Hugo  of  St-Victor,  scholar,  theologian,  man  of  genius  ; 5 
he  professed  to  care  more  for  the  Christian  ardours  of 
the  soul  than  for  learning  even  as  a  means  of  righteousness, 

1  Ante,  Vol.  I.  p.  213.  2  Migne,  Pat.  Lot.  172,  col.  1056. 

3  Ante,  Chapter  XII.,  i.  *  Ante.  Chapter  XIII.,  i. 

6  Ante,  Chapter  XXVIII. 


CHAP,  xxx 


TUT?     /~"T    A  CCI/^C  •*  v  • 

i  rm,   L/J-./VOOIL.O 


and  chose  to  take  the  side  of  those  who  would  read  the 
classic  authors  only  so  far  as  the  needs  of  education 
demanded  : 

"  There  are  two  kinds  of  writings,  first  those  which  are  termed 
the  artes  proper,  secondly,  those  which  are  the  supplements 
(appendentia}  of  the  artes.  Artes  comprise  the  works  grouped 
under  (stippommtur)  philosophy,  those  which  contain  some  fixed 
and  determined  matter  of  philosophy,  as  grammar,  dialectic  and  the 
like.  Appendentia  artium  are  those  [writings]  which  touch  philo- 
sophy less  nearly  and  are  occupied  with  some  subject  apart  from 
it  ;  and  yet  sometimes  offer  flotsam  and  jetsam  from  the  artes,  or 
simply  as  narratives  smooth  the  road  to  philosophy.  All  the  songs 
of  poets  are  such  —  tragedies,  comedies,  satires,  heroics,  and  lyrics 
too,  and  iambics,  besides  certain  didactic  works  (didascalica)  ;  tales 
likewise,  and  histories  ;  also  the  writings  of  those  nowadays  called 
philosophers,  who  extend  a  brief  matter  with  lengthy  circumlocution, 
and  thus  darken  a  simple  meaning. 

"  Note  then  well  the  distinction  I  have  drawn  for  thee  :  distinct 
and  different  (duo)  are  the  artes  and  their  appenditia,  .  .  .  and 
often  from  the  latter  the  student  will  gain  much  labour  and  little 
fruit.  The  artes,  without  their  appenditia,  may  make  the  reader 
perfect  ;  but  the  latter,  without  the  artes,  can  bring  no  whit 
of  perfection.  Wherefore  one  should  first  of  all  devote  himself  to 
the  artes,  which  are  so  fundamental,  and  to  the  aforesaid  seven 
above  all,  which  are  the  means  and  instruments  (instrumenta)  of  all 
philosophy.  Then  let  the  rest  be  read,  if  one  has  leisure,  since 
sometimes  the  playful  mingled  with  the  serious  especially  delights 
us,  and  we  are  apt  to  remember  a  moral  found  in  a  tale."  *• 

Temperament  affected  Hugo's  view.  He  was  of  the 
spiritual  aristocracy,  who  may  be  somewhat  disdainful  of 
the  common  means  by  which  men  get  their  education  and 
round  out  their  natures.  The  mechanical  monotony  of 
pedagogy  grated  on  him  and  evoked  the  ironical  sketch  of  a 
school-room,  which  he  put  in  his  dialogue  on  the  Vanity  of 
the  World.  The  little  Discipulus,  directed  by  his  Magister, 
is  surveying  human  things. 

"Turn  again,  and  look,"  says  the  latter,  "and  what  do  you 
see?" 

"  I  see  the  schools  of  learners.  There  is  a  great  crowd,  and  of 
all  ages,  boys  and  youths,  men  young  and  old.  They  study  various 

1  Didascalicon,  iii.  4  (Mignc  176,  col.  768-769). 


112  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vr 

things.  Some  practise  their  rude  tongue  at  the  alphabet  and  at 
words  new  to  them.  Others  listen  to  the  inflection  of  words,  their 
composition  and  derivation ;  then  by  reciting  and  repeating  them 
they  try  to  commit  them  to  memory.  Others  furrow  the  waxen 
tablets  with  a  stylus.  Others,  guiding  the  calamus  with  learned 
hand,  draw  figures  of  different  shapes  and  colours  on  parchments. 
Still  others  with  sharper  zeal  seem  to  dispute  on  graver  matters  and 
try  to  trip  each  other  with  twistings  and  impossibilities  (gryphisf}. 
I  see  some  also  making  calculations,  and  some  producing  various 
sounds  upon  a  cord  stretched  on  a  frame.  Others,  again,  explain 
and  demonstrate  geometric  figures;  and  yet  others  with  various 
instruments  show  the  positions  and  courses  of  the  stars  and  the 
movement  of  the  heavens.  Others,  finally,  consider  the  nature  of 
plants,  the  constitution  of  men,  and  the  properties  and  powers  of 
things." 

The  Disciple  is  captivated  with  this  many-coloured  show 
of  learning ;  but  the  Master  declares  it  to  be  mostly  foolish- 
ness, distracting  the  student  from  understanding  his  own 
nature,  his  Creator,  and  his  future  lot.1 

These  are  examples,  which  might  be  multiplied  indefinitely, 
of  the  pious  mediaeval  view  that  the  artes,  with  a  very  little 
reading  of  the  auctores,  were  proper  for  the  educated  Christian, 
whose  need  was  to  understand  Scripture.  Sometimes,  stung, 
at  least  rhetorically,  by  fear  of  the  lust  and  idolatry  of  the 
antique,  mediaeval  souls  cry  out  against  its  lures,  even  as 
Jerome's  Christianly  protesting  nature  dreamed  that  famous 
dream  of  exclusion  from  heaven  as  a  "  Ciceronian."  Alcuin, 
who  led  the  educational  movement  under  Charlemagne, 
gently  chides  one  whose  fondness  for  Virgil  made  him 
forget  his  friend — "  would  that  the  Gospels  rather  than  the 
Aeneid  filled  thy  breast."  2  Three  hundred  years  later,  St. 
Peter  Damiani,  himself  a  virtuoso  in  letters  and  a  sometime 
teacher  of  rhetoric,  arraigns  the  monks  for  teaching  grammar 
rather  than  things  spiritual.3  Damiani  speaks  with  the 
harshness  of  one  who  fears  what  he  loves.  In  France,  about 
the  same  time,  our  worthy  sermon -writer,  Honorius  of  Autun, 
liked  the  profanities  well  enough,  and  drew  from  them  apt 
moral  tales,  which  preachers  might  introduce  to  rouse  drowsy 

1  De  vanitate  mundit  i.  (Migne  176,  col.  709,  710). 
*  Ep.  169  (Migne,  Pat.  Lot.  100,  col.  441). 

3  Ofusf.   xiii.  ;   De  perfectione  monachi,  cap.   xi.  (Migne   144,  col.    306). 
See  ante,  Chapter  XVI. 


CHAP,  xxx          SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  113 

congregations.  Yet  he  directs  his  pulpit-thunder  at  the 
cives  Babyloniae,  the  superbi,  who  after  their  several  tastes 
finger  profane  literature  to  their  peril :  "  Those  delighting  in 
quibbling  learn  Aristotle :  the  lovers  of  war  have  Maro,  and 
the  lustful  idlers  their  Naso.  Lucan  and  Statius  incite 
discords,  while  Horace  and  Terence  equip  the  pert  and 
wanton  (J>etulantes} — but  since  the  names  of  these  are  blotted 
from  the  book  of  life,  I  shall  not  commemorate  them  with 
my  lips." J 

This  with  the  excellent  Honorius  was  pious  rhetoric. 
Yet  the  love  and  fear  of  antique  letters  caused  anxiety  in 
many  a  mediaeval  soul,  deflected  by  them  from  its  narrow 
path  to  the  heavenly  Jerusalem.  Indeed  the  love  of  letters 
and  of  knowledge  was  to  play  its  part,  and  might  take  one 
side  or  the  other,  according  to  the  motive  of  their  pursuit, 
in  the  great  mediaeval  psychomachia  between  the  cravings  of 
mortal  life  and  the  militant  insistencies  of  the  soul's  salva- 
tion. This  conflict,  not  confined  to  mediaeval  monks,  has 
its  universal  aspects.  It  echoes  in  the  sigh  of  Michel- 
angelo over  the 

"  affectuosa  fantasia, 
Che  1'  arte  si  fece  idolo  e  monarca," 

— which  had  so  long  drawn  his  heart  from  Eternity.2 

Commonly,  however,  this  conflict  did  not  greatly  disturb 
scholars  who  felt  in  some  degree  the  classic  spell  so  manifold 
of  delight  in  themes  delightful,  of  pleasure  somehow  drawn 
from  clear  statement  and  convincing  sequence  of  thought, 
of  even  deeper  happiness  springing  from  the  stirring  of  those 
faculties  through  which  man  rejoices  in  knowledge.  To  be 
sure,  readers  of  the  Classics,  who  drew  joy  from  them  or 
satisfaction,  or  humane  instruction,  were  comparatively  few 
in  the  mediaeval  centuries,  as  they  are  to-day.  And  un- 
doubtedly in  the  Middle  Ages  the  Classics  usually  were 
read  in  unenlightened  schoolboy  fashion.  Yet  making 
these  reservations,  we  may  be  sure  that  letters  yielded  up 
their  joys  to  the  chosen  few  in  every  mediaeval  century. 
"Amor  litterarum  ab  ipso  fere  initio  pueritiae  mihi  est  innatus," 
wrote  Lupus  in  the  ninth.3  Gerbert  might  have  said  the 

1  Speculum  ccclcsiae  (Migne  172,  col.  1085). 

*  Sonnet  56.  3  Ep.  i.  (Migne  119,  col.  433). 

VOL.  II  I 


II4  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

same,  and  many  of  the  men  who  taught  at  Chartres  in  the 
generations  following.  So  likewise  might  have  said  John  of 
Salisbury.  In  studying  the  Classics  he  certainly  looked  to 
them  for  instruction.  But  he  also  loved  them,  and  found 
companionship  and  solace  in  them,  as  he  says,  and  as  Cicero 
before  him  had  said  of  letters. 

We  may  ask  ourselves  what  sort  of  pleasure  do  we  get 
from  reading  the  Classics  ?  not  necessarily  a  light  distract- 
ing of  the  mind,  but  rather  a  deeper  gratification  :  thought 
is  aroused  and  satisfied,  and  our  nature  is  appeased  by  the 
admirable  presentation  of  things  admirable.  At  the  same 
time  we  may  be  conscious  of  discipline  and  benefit.  There 
is  good  reason  to  suppose  that  a  like  pleasure,  or  satisfaction, 
with  discipline  and  instruction,  came  to  this  exceedingly  clever 
John  from  reading  Terence,  Virgil  and  Ovid,  Horace,  Juvenal, 
Lucan,  Persius  and  Statius,  Cicero,  Seneca  and  Quintilian 
— for  he  read  them  all.1  John  is  affected,  impressed,  and 
trained  by  his  classic  reading  ;  he  has  absorbed  his  authors  ; 
he  quotes  from  them  as  spontaneously  and  aptly  as  he 
quotes  from  Scripture.  A  quotation  from  the  one  or  the 
other  may  give  final  point  to  an  argument,  and  have  its  own 
eloquent  suggestions.  Sometimes  the  tone  of  one  of  his 
own  letters  —  which  usually  are  excellent  in  form  and 
language — may  agree  with  that  of  the  pithy  antique  quota- 
tion garnishing  it.  A  mediaeval  writer  was  not  likely  to 
say  just  what  we  should  when  expressing  ourselves  on  the 
same  matter.  Yet  John  makes  quite  clear  to  us  how  he 
cared  for  antique  letters,  in  the  Prologue  to  his  Polycraticus, 
his  chief  work  on  philosophy  and  life ;  and  we  may  take  his 
word  as  to  the  satisfaction  which  he  drew  from  them,  since 
his  own  writings  prove  his  assiduity  in  their  cult.  This 
prologue  is  somewhat  cherche,  and  imbued  with  a  preciosity 
of  sentiment  putting  one  in  mind  of  Cicero's  oration  Pro 
Archia  poet  a. 

"Most  delightful  in  many  ways,  but  in  this  especially,  is  the 
fruit  of  letters,  that  banishing  the  reserve  of  intervening  place  and 
time,  they  bring  friends  into  each  other's  presence,  and  do  not 

1  John  approved  of  reading  the  auctores,  for  educational  purposes,  and  not 
confining  the  pupil  to  the  artes.  See  Metalogicus,  i.  23,  24  (Migne,  Pat.  Lot. 
199,  col.  453).  On  John,  cf.  post,  Chapter  XXXI.  and  XXXVI.,  HI. 


CHAP,  xxx         SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  115 

suffer  noteworthy  things  to  be  obliterated  by  dust.  For  the  arts 
would  have  perished,  laws  would  have  vanished,  the  offices  of  faith 
and  religion  would  have  fallen  away,  and  even  the  correct  use  of 
language  would  have  failed,  had  not  the  divine  pity,  as  a  remedy 
for  human  infirmity,  provided  letters  for  the  use  of  mortals. 
Ancient  examples,  which  incite  to  virtue,  would  have  corrected 
and  served  no  one,  had  not  the  pious  solicitude  of  writers  trans- 
mitted them  to  posterity.  .  .  .  Who  would  know  the  Alexanders 
and  the  Caesars,  or  admire  Stoics  and  Peripatetics,  had  not  the 
monuments  of  writers  signalized  them?  Triumphal  arches  pro- 
mote the  glory  of  illustrious  men  from  the  carved  inscription  of 
their  deeds.  Thereby  the  observer  recognizes  the  Liberator  of  his 
Country,  the  Establisher  of  Peace.  The  light  of  fame  endures  for 
no  one  save  through  his  own  or  another's  writing.  How  many  and 
how  great  kings  thinkest  thou  there  have  been,  of  whom  there  is 
neither  speech  nor  cogitation?  Vainly  have  men  stormed  the 
heights  of  glory,  if  their  fame  does  not  shine  in  the  light  of  letters. 
Other  favour  or  distinction  is  as  fabled  Echo,  or  the  plaudits  of 
the  Play,  ceasing  the  moment  it  has  begun. 

"  Besides  all  this,  solace  in  grief,  recreation  in  labour,  cheerfulness 
in  poverty,  modesty  amid  riches  and  delights,  faithfully  are  bestowed 
by  letters.  For  the  soul  is  redeemed  from  its  vices,  and  even  in 
adversity  refreshed  with  sweet  and  wondrous  cheer,  when  the  mind 
is  intended  upon  reading  or  writing  what  is  profitable.  Thou  shalt 
find  in  human  life  no  more  pleasing  or  more  useful  employment ; 
unless  perchance  when,  with  heart  dilated  through  prayer  and 
divine  love,  the  mind  perceives  and  arranges  within  itself,  as  with 
the  hand  of  meditation,  the  great  things  of  God  Believe  one  who 
has  tried  it,  that  all  the  sweets  of  the  world,  compared  with  these 
exercises,  are  wormwood."  1 

Hereupon,  still  addressing  himself  to  his  friend  and 
patron,  Thomas  a  Becket,  John  suggests  that  these  recreations 
are  peculiarly  beneficial  to  men  in  their  circumstances, 
burdened  with  affairs  ;  and  he  puts  his  principles  in  practice, 
by  launching  forth  upon  his  lengthy  work  of  learned  and 
philosophic  disquisition. 

To  supplement  this  outline  of  John's  appreciation  of  the 
Classics,  it  will  be  interesting  to  look  into  the  literary  inter- 
pretation of  a  classical  poem,  from  the  pen  of  one  of  his 
contemporaries.  So  little  is  known  of  the  author,  Bernard 
Silvestris,  that  he  usually  has  been  confused  with  his  more 
famous  fellow,  Bernard  of  Chartres.  We  may  refer  to  both 

1  Polycraticus,  Prologus  (Migne,  Pat.  Lai.  199,  col.  385). 


Il6  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vi 

of  them  again.1  Here  our  business  is  solely  with  the 
Commentum  Bernardi  Silvestris  super  sex  libros  Aeneidos 
VirgiUi?  The  writer  draws  from  the  Saturnalia  of  the  fifth- 
century  grammarian,  Macrobius ;  but  his  allegorical  inter- 
pretation of  the  Aeneid  seems  to  be  his  own.  He  finds  in 
the  Aeneid  a  twofold  consideration,  in  that  its  author  meant 
to  teach  philosophic  truth,  and  at  the  same  time  was  not 
inattentive  to  the  poetic  plot. 

"  Since  then  Virgil  in  this  poem  is  both  philosopher  and  poet, 
we  shall  first  expound  the  purpose  and  method  of  the  poet.  .  .  . 
His  aim  is  to  unfold  the  calamities  of  Aeneas  and  other  Trojans, 
and  the  labours  of  the  exiles.  Herein  disregarding  the  truth  of 
history  as  told  by  Dares  the  Phrygian,3  and  seeking  to  win  the 
favour  of  Augustus,  he  adorns  the  facts  with  figments.  For  Virgil, 
greatest  of  Latin  poets,  wrote  in  imitation  of  Homer,  greatest  of 
Greek  poets.  As  Homer  in  the  Iliad  narrates  the  fall  of  Troy  and 
in  the  Odyssey  the  exile  of  Ulysses ;  so  Virgil  in  the  second  Book 
briefly  relates  the  overthrow  of  Troy,  and  in  the  rest  the  labours  of 
Aeneas.  Consider  the  twin  order  of  narration,  the  natural  and  the 
artistic  (artificialem).  The  natural  is  when  the  narrative  proceeds 
according  to  the  sequence  of  events,  telling  first  what  happened 
first.  Lucan  and  Statius  keep  to  this  order.  The  artistic  is  when 
we  begin  in  the  middle  of  the  story,  and  thence  revert  to  the 
commencement.  Terence  writes  thus,  and  Virgil  in  this  work.  It 
would  have  been  the  natural  order  to  have  described  first  the 
destruction  of  Troy,  and  then  brought  the  Trojans  to  Crete,  from 
Crete  to  Sicily,  and  from  Sicily  to  Libya.  But  he  first  brings  them 
to  Dido,  and  introduces  Aeneas  relating  the  overthrow  of  Troy  and 
the  other  things  that  he  has  suffered.4 

"  Up  to  this  point  we  show  how  he  proceeds :  next  let  us 
observe  why  he  does  it  so.  With  poets  there  is  the  reason  of  use- 
fulness, as  with  a  satirist ;  the  reason  of  pleasure,  as  with  a  writer  of 
comedies ;  and  again  these  two  combined,  as  with  the  historical 
poet  As  Horace  says : 

'  Aut  prodesse  volunt  aut  delectare  poetae, 
Aut  simul  et  iucunda  et  idonea  dicere  vitae.' 

"  This  kind  of  a  historical  poem  is  shown  by  its  figurative  and 

1  Post,  Chapter  XXXVI.,  in. 

*  I  draw  upon  the  extracts  given  in  the  thesis  of  M.  Demimuid,  De  Bernardo 
Carnotensi  grammatico  professore  et  interprete  Virgilii  (Paris,  1873),  who,  as 
appears  by  his  title,  confuses  the  two  Bernards. 

3  The  author  of  a  bastard  epitome  on  the  Trojan  War,  see  post,  Chapter 
XXXII.,  iv. 

4  The  above,  in  substance,  is  taken  from  Macrobius. 


CHAP,  xxx         SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  117 

polished  diction  and  in  the  various  mischances  and  deeds  narrated. 
If  any  one  will  study  to  imitate  it  he  will  gain  skill  in  writing. 
The  narrative  also  contains  instances  and  arguments  for  following 
the  right  and  avoiding  what  is  evil.  Hence  a  twofold  profit  to  the 
reader :  skill  in  writing,  gained  through  imitation,  and  prudence  in 
conduct,  drawn  from  example  and  precept.  For  instance,  in  the 
labours  of  Aeneas  we  have  an  example  of  endurance ;  and  one  of 
piety,  in  his  affection  for  Anchises  and  Ascanius.  From  the 
reverence  which  he  shows  the  gods,  from  the  oracles  which  he 
supplicates,  from  the  sacrifices  which  he  offers,  from  the  vows  and 
prayers  which  he  pours  forth,  we  feel  drawn  to  religion :  while 
through  Dido's  unbridled  love,  we  are  recalled  from  desire  for  the 
forbidden." 

The  above  is  excellent,  but  not  particularly  original. 
It  shows,  however,  that  Bernard  could  appreciate  the  Aeneid 
in  this  way.  His  allegorical  interpretation  is  of  a  piece  with 
current  mediaeval  methods.  Yet  to  take  a  poem  allegorically 
was  not  distinctively  mediaeval  ;  for  Homer  and  other  poets 
had  been  thus  expounded  from  the  days  of  Plato,  who  did  not 
himself  approve.  With  Bernard,  each  Book  of  the  Aeneid 
represents  one  of  the  ages  of  man,  the  first  Book  betokening 
infancy,  the  second  boyhood,  and  so  forth.  Allegorical 
etymologies  are  applied  to  the  names  of  the  personages  ;  and 
in  general  the  whole  natural  course  and  setting  of  the  poem 
is  taken  allegorically.  "  The  sea  is  the  human  body  moved 
and  tossed  by  drunkenness  and  lusts,  which  are  represented 
by  waves."  Aeneas,  to  wit,  the  human  soul  joined  to  its 
body,  comes  to  Carthage,  the  mundane  city  where  Dido 
reigns,  which  is  lust  ;  this  allegory  is  unfolded  in  detail. 
So  the  interpretation  ambles  on,  not  more  and  not  less 
jejune  than  such  ingenuities  usually  are. 

Classical  studies  reached  their  zenith  in  the  twelfth 
century.  For  in  every  way  that  century  surpassed  its  pre- 
decessors ;  and  in  classical  studies  it  excelled  the  thirteenth, 
which  devoted  to  them  a  smaller  portion  of  its  intellectual 
energies.  The  twelfth  century,  to  be  sure,  was  prodigiously 
interested  in  dialectic  and  theology.  Yet  these  had  not 
quite  engulfed  the  humanities  ;  nor  had  any  newly  awakened 
interest  in  physical  or  experimental  science  distracted  the 
eyes  of  men  from  the  charms  of  the  ancient  written  page. 


118  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

The  change  took  place  in  the  thirteenth  century.  Its  best 
intellectual  efforts,  north  of  the  Alps  at  least,  were  directed 
to  the  study  and  theological  appropriation  of  the  Aristotelian 
encyclopaedia  of  metaphysics  and  universal  knowledge.1  The 
effect  of  Aristotle  was  totally  unliterary.  And  the  minds 
of  men,  absorbed  in  mastering  this  giant  mass  of  knowledge 
and  argument,  ceased  to  regard  literary  form  and  the 
humane  aspects  of  Latin  literature. 

Until  the  thirteenth  century,  dialectic  and  theology  were 
not  completely  severed  from  belles  lettres.  The  Platonic- 
Augustinian  theology  of  the  twelfth  century  had  been 
idealizing  and  imaginative,  not  to  say  poetical.  Such  an 
interesting  exponent  of  it  as  Hugo  of  St.  Victor  appears  as 
a  literary  personage,  despite  his  stinted  advocacy  of  classical 
study.  One  notes  that  for  his  time  the  chief  single  source 
of  physical  knowledge  was  the  Latin  version  of  the  Timaeus, 
certainly  not  a  prosaic  composition.  Thus,  for  the  twelfth 
century,  an  effective  cause  of  the  continuance  of  the  study  of 
letters  lay  herein  :  whatever  branch  of  natural  knowledge 
might  allure  the  student,  he  could  not  draw  it  bodily  from 
a  serious  but  unliterary  repository,  like  the  Physics  or  De 
animalibus  of  Aristotle,  which  were  not  yet  available  ;  he 
must  follow  his  bent  through  the  writings  of  various  Latin 
poets  as  well  as  prose-writers.  In  fine,  the  sources  of  profane 
knowledge  open  to  the  twelfth  century  were  literary  in  their 
nature,  and  might  form  part  of  the  literature  which  would  be 
read  by  a  student  of  grammar  or  rhetoric. 

One  sees  this  in  John  of  Salisbury.  There  may  have 
been  a  few  men  who  knew  more  than  he  did  of  some 
particular  topic.  But  his  range  and  readiness  of  knowledge 
were  unique.  And  it  is  evident  from  his  writings  that  his 
knowledge  (except  in  logic)  had  no  special  or  scientific 
source,  but  was  derived  from  a  promiscuous  reading  of 
Latin  literature.  As  a  result,  he  is  himself  a  literary  man. 
One  may  say  much  the  same  of  his  younger  contemporary, 
Alanus  de  Insulis.2  He  too  has  gathered  knowledge  from 
literary  sources,  and  he  himself  is  one  of  the  best  Latin 
poets  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Another  extremely  poetic 

1  Post,  Chapter  XXXVII. 
*  Ante,  Chapter  XXIX.,  n.,  and  post,  Chapter  XXXVI.,  in. 


CHAP,  xxx         SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  119 

philosopher  was  Bernard  Silvestris,  the  interpreter  of  Virgil. 
His  De  mundi  unitate  is  a  Pantheistic  exposition  of  the 
Universe ;  it  is  also  a  poem ;  and  incidentally  it  affords 
another  illustration  of  the  general  fact,  that  before  the  works 
of  Aristotle  were  made  known  and  expounded  in  the 
thirteenth  century,  all  kinds  of  natural  and  quasi-philosophic 
knowledge  were  drawn  from  a  variety  of  writings,  some  of 
them  poor  enough  from  any  point  of  view,  but  none  of  them 
distinctly  scientific  and  unliterary,  like  the  works  of  Aristotle. 
Formal  logic  or  dialectic,  as  cultivated  by  Abaelard  for 
example,  appears  as  an  exception.  It  had  been  specialized 
and  more  scientifically  treated  than  any  branch  of  sub- 
stantial knowledge  ;  for  indeed  it  was  based  on  the  logical 
treatises  of  Aristotle,  most  of  which  were  in  use  before 
Abaelard's  death,  and  all  of  which  were  known  to  Thierry 
of  Chartres  and  John  of  Salisbury.1 

The  contrast  between  the  cathedral  school  of  Chartres 
and  the  University  of  Paris  illustrates  the  change  from  the 
twelfth  to  the  thirteenth  century.  The  former  has  been 
spoken  of  in  a  previous  chapter,  where  its  story  was  brought 
down  to  the  times  of  its  great  teachers,  Bernard  and  Thierry, 
of  whom  we  shall  have  to  speak  in  connection  with  the 
teaching  of  grammar  and  the  reading  of  classical  authors. 
The  school  flourished  exceedingly  until  the  middle  of  the 
twelfth  century.2  By  that  time  the  schools  of  Paris  had 
received  an  enormous  impetus  from  the  popularity  of 
Abaelard,  and  scholars  had  begun  to  push  thither  from  all 
quarters.  But  it  was  not  till  the  latter  part  of  the  century 
that  the  University,  with  its  organization  of  Masters  and 
Faculties,  began  visibly  to  emerge  out  of  the  antecedent 
cathedral  school.3  Chartres  was  a  home  of  letters ;  and 
there  Latin  literature  was  read  enthusiastically.  But  in 

1  Post,  Chapter  XXXVI.,  i. 

2  For  a  successor  or  friendly  rival  to  Chartres,  in  the  interest  taken  in  grammar 
and  classical  literature,  one  should  properly  look  to  Orleans,  where  apparently 
those  studies  continued  to  flourish.     Cf.  L.  Delisle,  "  Les  Ecoles  d'Orleans  au 
douzieme  siecle,''  Annuaire- Bulletin  de  la  Societt  de  FHistoire  de  France,  t.  vii. 
(1869),  p.  139  sqq.     In  a  Bataille  des  septs  arts,  by  Henri  d'Andeli,  of  the  first 
half  of  the  thirteenth  century,   Logic,  from  its  stronghold  of  Paris,  vanquishes 
Grammar,  whose  stronghold  is  Orleans.     In  the  conflict,  with  much  symbolic 
truth,  Aristotle  overthrows  Priscian,  Histoire  litUraire  de  la  France,  t.  xxiii.  p. 
225.  3  Post,  Chapter  XXXVII. 


120  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

Paris  Abaelard  was  pre-eminently  a  dialectician  ;  and  after 
he  died,  through  those  decades  when  the  University  was 
coming  into  existence,  the  tide  of  study  set  irresistibly 
toward  theology  and  metaphysics.  Students  and  masters 
of  the  Faculty  of  Arts  outnumbered  all  the  other  Faculties  ; 
nevertheless,  counting  not  by  tumultuous  numbers,  but  by 
intellectual  strength,  the  great  matter  was  Theology,  and  the 
majority  of  the  Masters  in  the  Arts  were  students  in  the 
divine  science.  The  Arts  were  regarded  as  a  preparatory 
discipline.  So  through  its  great  period,  which  roughly 
coincides  with  the  thirteenth  century,  the  University  of 
Paris  was  for  all  Europe  the  supreme  seat  of  Dialectic, 
Metaphysics,  and  Theology,  and  yet  no  kindly  nurse  of 
belles  lettres. 

The  tendencies  of  Oxford  were  not  quite  the  same  as 
those  of  Paris,  yet  Latin  literature  as  such  does  not  seem  to 
have  been  cultivated  there  for  its  own  fair  sake.  This 
apparently  was  unaffected  by  the  fact  that  a  movement  for 
"  close "  or  exact  scholarship  existed  at  the  English 
university.  Grosseteste,  its  first  great  chancellor,  teacher 
and  inspirer,  unquestionably  introduced,  or  encouraged,  the 
study  of  Greek  ;  and  his  famous  pupil,  Roger  Bacon,  was  a 
serious  Greek  scholar,  and  wrote  a  grammar  of  that  tongue. 
But  neither  Grosseteste  nor  Bacon  appears  to  have  been 
moved  by  any  literary  interest  in  Greek  literature  ;  both  one 
and  the  other  urged  the  importance  of  Greek,  and  of  Hebrew 
too  and  Arabic,  in  order  to  reach  a  surer  knowledge 
of  Scripture  and  Aristotle.  They  sought  to  open  the 
veritable  founts  of  theology  and  natural  knowledge,  an 
intelligent  aim  indeed,  but  quite  unliterary.  In  spirit  both 
these  men  belong  to  the  thirteenth  century,  not  to  the 
twelfth.1 

In  Italy,  one  does  not  find  that  the  passage  from  the 
twelfth  to  the  thirteenth  century  displays  the  decline  in 
classical  studies  which  is  apparent  north  of  the  Alps.  The 
reasons  seem  obvious.  The  passion  for  metaphysical 
theology  did  not  invade  this  land  of  practical  ecclesiasticism 
and  urban  living,  where  pagan  antiquity,  dumb,  broken,  and 
defaced,  yet  everywhere  surviving,  was  the  medium  of  life 

See  post,  Chapter  XLI.  and  XLII.  for  the  work  of  Grosseteste. 


CHAP,  xxx         SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  121 

and  thought  and  temperamental  inclination  in  the  thirteenth 
as  well  as  in  the  twelfth  century.  Nor  was  Italy  as  yet 
becoming  scientific,  or  greatly  interested  in  physical 
hypothesis ;  although  medicine  was  cultivated  in  various 
centres,  Salerno,  for  example,  and  Bologna.  But  for  the 
twelfth,  and  for  the  thirteenth  century  as  well,  Italy's  great 
intellectual  achievement  was  in  the  two  closely  neighbouring 
sciences  of  canon  and  civil  law.  These  made  the  University 
of  Bologna  as  pre-eminent  in  law  as  Paris  was  in  theology. 
There  had  been  schools  of  grammar  and  rhetoric  at  Bologna 
and  Ravenna,  before  the  lecturing  of  Irnerius  on  the 
Pandects  drew  to  the  first-named  town  the  concourse  of 
mature  and  seemly  students  who  were  gradually  to  organize 
themselves  into  a  university.1  Thus  at  Bologna  law 
flourished  and  grew  great,  springing  upward  from  an 
antecedent  base  of  grammatical  if  not  literary  studies.  The 
study  of  the  law  never  cut  itself  away  from  this  foundation. 
For  the  exigencies  of  legal  business  demanded  training  in 
the  scrivener's  and  notarial  arts  of  inditing  epistles  and 
drawing  documents,  for  which  the  ars  dictaminis,  to  wit,  the 
art  of  composition  was  of  primary  utility.  This  ars,  teaching 
as  it  did  both  the  general  rules  of  composition  and  the  more 
specific  forms  of  legal  or  other  formal  documents,  pertained 
to  law  as  well  as  grammar.  Of  the  latter  study  it  was 
perhaps  in  Italy  the  main  element,  or,  rather,  end.  But  even 
without  this  hybrid  link  of  the  dictamen,  grammar  was  needed 
for  the  interpretation  of  the  Pandects  ;  and  indeed  some  of 
the  glosses  of  Irnerius  and  other  early  glossators  are 
grammatical  rather  than  legal  explanations  of  the  text. 
We  should  bear  in  mind  that  this  august  body  of  juris- 
prudential  law  existed  not  in  the  inflated  statutory  Latin  of 
Justinian's  time,  but  in  the  sonorous  and  correct  language 
-of  the  earlier  empire,  when  the  great  Jurists  lived,  as  well 
as  Quintilian.  Accordingly  a  close  study  of  the  Pandects 
required,  as  well  as  yielded,  a  knowledge  of  classical 
Latinity.  Thus  law  tended  to  foster,  rather  than  repress, 
grammar  and  rhetoric  ;  and  had  no  unfavourable  effect  on 
classical  studies.  And  even  as  such  studies  "  flourished  "  in 
Italy  in  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries,  they  did  not 

1  Cf.  post,  Chapter  XXXIII.  and  XXXVII. 


122  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

cease  to  "  flourish,"  there  in  the  thirteenth,  in  the  same 
general  though  rather  dull  and  uncreative  way.  For  it  will 
hereafter  appear  that  the  productions  of  the  Latin  poets  and 
rhetoricians  of  Italy  were  below  the  literary  level  of  those 
composed  north  of  the  Loire  in  France,  or  in  England. 


II 

From  the  days  of  the  Roman  Empire,  the  study  of 
grammar  was,  and  never  ceased  to  be,  the  basis  of  the 
conscious  and  rational  knowledge  of  the  Latin  tongue.  The 
Roman  boys  studied  it  at  Rome  ;  the  Latin -speaking 
provincials  studied  it,  and  all  people  of  education  who 
remained  in  the  lands  of  western  Europe  which  once  had 
formed  part  of  the  Empire  ;  its  study  was  renewed  under 
Charlemagne  ;  he  and  Alcuin  and  all  the  scholars  of  the 
ninth  century  were  deeply  interested  in  what  to  them 
represented  tangible  Latinity,  and  in  fact  was  to  be  a  chief 
means  by  which  their  mediaeval  civilization  should  maintain 
its  continuity  with  its  source.  For  grammar  was  most 
instrumental  in  preserving  mediaeval  Latin  from  violent 
deflections,  which  would  have  left  the  ancient  literature  as 
the  literature  of  a  forgotten  tongue.  Had  mediaeval  Latin 
failed  to  keep  itself  veritable  Latin  ;  had  it  instead  suffered 
transmutation  into  local  Romance  dialects,  the  Latin  classics, 
and  all  that  hung  from  them,  might  have  become  as  unknown 
to  the  Middle  Ages  as  the  Greek,  and  even  have  been  lost 
forever.  It  was  the  study  of  Latin  grammar,  with  classic 
texts  to  illustrate  its  rules,  that  kept  Latin  Latin,  and 
preserved  standards  of  universal  usage  throughout  western 
Europe,  by  which  one  language  was  read  and  spoken 
everywhere  by  educated  people.  From  century  to  century 
this  language  suffered  modification,  and  varied  according  to 
the  knowledge  and  training  of  those  who  used  it ;  yet  its 
changes  were  never  such  as  to  destroy  its  identity  as  a 
language,  or  prevent  the  Latin  writer  of  one  age  or  country 
from  understanding  whatever  in  any  land  or  century  had 
been  written  in  that  perennial  tongue. 

Therefore  fortunately,  as  the  Carolingian  scholars  studied 


CHAP,  xxx         SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  123 

Latin  grammar,  so  likewise  did  those  of  all  succeeding 
mediaeval  generations,  thereby  holding  themselves  to  at  least 
a  homogeneity,  though  not  an  unvarying  uniformity,  of  usage. 
Evidently,  however,  the  method  of  grammatical  instruction 
had  to  vary  with  the  needs  of  the  learners  and  the  teachers' 
skill.  The  Romans  prattled  Latin  on  their  mothers'  knees  ; 
and  so,  with  gradually  widening  deflections,  did  the  Latinized 
provincials.  Neither  Roman  nor  Provincial  prattled  Cicer- 
onian periods,  or  used  quite  the  vocabulary  of  Virgil ;  yet  it 
was  Latin  that  they  talked.  Thenceforward  there  was  to  be 
a  difference  between  the  people  who  lived  in  countries  where 
Romance  dialects  had  emerged  from  the  spoken  Latin  and 
prevailed,  and  those  people  who  spoke  a  Teuton  speech. 
Although  always  drawing  away,  the  natal  speech  of  Romance 
peoples  was  so  like  Latin,  that  in  learning  it  they  seemed 
rather  to  correct  their  vulgar  tongue  than  to  acquire  a  new 
language.  So  it  was  in  the  Christian  parts  of  Spain,  in 
Gaul,  and,  above  all,  in  Italy,  where  the  vulgar  dialects  were 
tardiest  in  taking  distinctive  form.  Nevertheless,  as  the 
Romance  dialects,  for  instance  in  the  country  north  of  the 
Loire,  developed  into  the  various  forms  of  what  is  called  Old 
French,  young  people  at  school  would  have  to  learn  Latin  as 
a  quasi-foreign  tongue.  Across  the  Rhine  in  Germany  boys 
ordinarily  had  to  learn  it  at  school,  as  a  strange  language, 
just  as  they  must  to-day ;  and  every  effort  was  devoted  to 
this  end.1  It  was  not  likely  that  the  grammars  composed 
for  Roman  boys,  or  at  least  for  boys  who  spoke  Latin  from 
their  infancy,  would  altogether  meet  the  needs  of  German,  or 
even  French,  youth.  Yet  only  gradually  and  slowly  in  the 
Middle  Ages  were  grammars  put  together  to  make  good 
the  insufficiencies  of  Donatus  and  Priscian. 

The    former    was    the    teacher    of    St.    Jerome.       He 
composed    a    short    work,    in   the    form    of   questions    and 

1  Cf.  Specht,  Geschichtc  des  Unterrichtswesens  in  Deutschland,  etc.  (Stutt- 
gard,  1885),  p.  75  and  passim. 

Yet  how  soon  and  with  what  childish  prattle  youths  might  begin  to 
speak  and  write  Latin  is  touchingly  shown  by  a  boy's  letter,  written  from  a 
monastic  school,  to  his  parents.  It  just  asks  for  various  little  things,  and  its 
superscription  is  :  "  Parentibus  suis  A.  agnus  ablactatus  pium  balatum"  :  which 
seems  to  mean  :  "To  his  parents,  A,  a  weaned  lamb,  sends  a  loving  bah."  This 
and  other  curious  little  letters  are  ascribed  to  one  Robertus  Metensis  (tir 
A.D.  900)  (Migne  132,  col.  533). 


124  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

answers,  explaining  the  eight  parts  of  speech,  but  giving  no 
rules  of  gender,  or  forms  of  declension  and  conjugation, 
needed  for  the  instruction  of  those  who,  unlike  the  Roman 
youth,  could  not  speak  the  language.  This  little  book  went 
by  the  name  of  the  Ars  minor.  The  same  grammarian 
composed  a  more  extensive  work,  the  third  book  of  which 
was  called  the  Barbarismus,  after  its  opening  chapter.  It 
defined  the  figures  of  speech  (figurae,  locutiones\  and  was 
much  used  through  the  mediaeval  period. 

The  Ars  minor  explained  in  simple  fashion  the  elements 
of  speech.  But  the  Institutiones  grammaticae  of  Priscian,  a 
contemporary  of  Cassiodorus,  offered  a  mine  of  knowledge. 
Of  its  eighteen  books  the  first  sixteen  were  devoted  to  the 
parts  of  speech  and  their  forms,  considered  under  the 
variations  of  gender,  declension,  and  conjugation.  The 
remaining  two  treated  of  construct™  or  syntax.  As  early  as 
the  tenth  century  Priscian  was  separated  into  these  two 
parts,  which  came  to  be  known  as  Priscianus  major  and 
minor.  The  Priscian  manuscripts,  whose  name  is  legion, 
usually  present  the  former.  Diffuse  in  language,  confused 
in  arrangement,  and  overladen  perhaps  with  its  thousands  of 
examples,  it  was  berated  for  its  labyrinthine  qualities  even  in 
the  Middle  Ages  ;  yet  its  sixteen  books  remained  the  chief 
source  of  etymological  knowledge.  Priscianus  minor  was 
less  widely  used. 

The  grammarians  of  the  ninth,  tenth,  and  eleventh 
centuries  followed  Donatus  and  Priscian,  making  extracts 
from  their  works,  or  abridgements,  and  now  and  then 
introducing  examples  of  deviation  from  the  ancient  usage. 
The  last  came  usually  from  the  Vulgate  text  of  Scripture, 
which  sometimes  departed  from  the  idioms  or  even  word- 
forms  approved  by  the  old  authorities.1  The  Ars  minor  of 
Donatus  became  enveloped  in  commentaries  ;  but  Priscian 
was  so  formidable  that  in  these  early  centuries  he  was 
merely  glossed,  that  is,  annotated  in  brief  marginal  fashion. 

1  See  Thurot,  Histoire  des  doctrines  grammaticales  au  moyen  dge  ;  Notices  et 
extraits  des  MSS.  vol.  22,  part  2,  p.  85.  For  what  is  said  in  the  preceding 
and  following  pages  the  writer's  obligations  are  deep  to  this  well-known  work  of 
Thurot,  and  to  Reichling's  edition  of  the  Doctrinale  of  Alexander  de  Villa-Dei 
(Man.  Germ,  paedagogicdy  XII.,  Berlin,  1893).  Paetow's  .^rft  Course  at  Medieval 
Universities  (University  of  Illinois,  1910)  treats  learnedly  of  these  matters. 


CHAP,  xxx          SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  125 

It  would  be  tedious  to  dwell  upon  mediaeval 
grammatical  studies.  But  the  tendencies  characterizing 
them  in  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  may  be  in- 
dicated briefly.  The  substance  of  the  Prisdanus  major 
was  followed  by  mediaeval  grammarians.  That  is  to  say, 
while  admitting  certain  novelties,1  they  adhered  to  its 
rules  and  examples  relating  to  the  forms  of  words,  their 
declension  and  conjugation.  But  the  Prisdanus  minor, 
although  used,  was  departed  from.  In  the  first  place  its 
treatment  of  its  subject  (syntax)  was  confused  and 
inadequate.  There  was,  however,  a  broader  reason  for  seek- 
ing rules  elsewhere.  Mediaeval  Latin,  in  its  progress  as  a 
living  or  quasi-living  language,  departed  from  the  classical 
norms  far  more  in  syntax  and  composition  than  in  word- 
forms.  The  latter  continued  much  the  same  as  in  antiquity. 
But  the  popular  and  so  to  speak  Romance  tendencies  of 
mediaeval  Latin  brought  radical  changes  of  word-order  and 
style,  which  worked  back  necessarily  upon  the  rules  of 
syntax.  These  had  been  but  hazily  stated  by  the  old 
writers,  and  the  task  of  constructing  an  adequate  Latin 
syntax  remained  undone.  It  was  a  task  of  vital  importance 
for  the  preservation  of  the  Latin  tongue.  Word-forms  alone 
will  not  preserve  the  continuity  of  a  language  ;  it  is  essential 
that  their  use  in  speech  and  writing  should  be  kept 
congruous  through  appropriate  principles  of  syntax.  Such 
were  intelligently  formulated  by  mediaeval  grammarians. 
The  result  was  not  exactly  what  it  would  have  been  had 
the  task  been  carried  out  in  the  fourth  century :  yet  it  has 
endured  in  spite  of  the  attacks,  pseudo-attacks  indeed,  of 
the  dnquecento ;  and  the  mediaeval  treatment  of  Latin 
syntax  is  the  basis  of  the  modern  treatment.  One  may 
add  that  syntax  or  construct™  was  taken  broadly  as 
embracing  not  only  the  agreements  of  number  and  gender, 
and  the  governing2  of  cases,  but  also  the  order  of  words 
in  a  sentence,  which  had  changed  so  utterly  between  the 
time  of  Cicero  and  Thomas  Aquinas. 

These  general  statements  find  illustration  in  the  famous 
Doctrinale  of  Alexander  de  Villa-Dei,  whose  author  was 

1  See  Thurot,  o.c.  p.  204  sqq. 
3  Regere>  a  mediaeval  term  not  used  in  this  sense  by  Priscian. 


126  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

born  in  Normandy  in  the  latter  half  of  the  twelfth  century. 
He  studied  at  Paris,  and  in  course  of  time  was  summoned 
by  the  Bishop  of  Dol  to  instruct  his  nepotes  in  grammar. 
While  acting  as  their  tutor,  he  appears  to  have  helped 
their  memory  by  setting  his  rules  in  rhyme  ;  and  the  bishop 
asked  him  to  write  a  Summa  of  grammar  in  some  such 
fashion.  Complying,  he  composed  the  Doctrinale  in  the 
year  1 1 99,  putting  his  work  into  leonine  or  rhyming 
hexameter,  to  make  it  easier  to  memorize.  Rarely  has  a 
school-book  met  with  such  success.  It  soon  came  into  use 
in  Paris  and  elsewhere,  and  for  some  three  hundred  years 
was  the  common  manual  of  grammatical  teaching  through- 
out western  Europe.  It  was  then  attacked  and  apparently 
driven  from  the  field  by  the  so-called  Humanists,  who, 
however,  failed  to  offer  anything  better  in  its  place,  and 
plagiarized  from  the  work  which  they  professed  to 
execrate.1 

The  etymological  portions  of  the  Doctrinale  follow  the 
teachings  of  the  Priscianus  major  \  the  part  devoted  to 
syntax,  or  construct™,  shows  traces  of  the  influence  of  the 
Priscianus  minor.  But  Alexander's  treatment  of  syntax  is 
more  systematic  and  elaborate  than  Priscian's  ;  and  he  did 
not  hesitate  to  defer  to  the  Vulgate  and  other  Christian 
Latin  writings.  Thus  he  made  his  work  conform  to  con- 
temporary usage,  which  its  purpose  was  to  set  forth.  He 
did  the  same  in  the  section  on  Prosody,  in  which  he  says 
that  the  ancient  metricians  distinguished  a  number  of  feet 
no  longer  used,  and  he  will  confine  himself  to  six — the 
dactyl,  spondee,  trochee,  anapaest,  iambus,  and  tribrach.8  In 
contradiction  to  classical  usage  he  condemns  elision  ;3  and 
in  his  chapter  on  accent  he  throws  over  the  ancient  rules  : 

"  Accentus  normas  legitur  posuisse  vetustas  ; 
Non  tamen  has  credo  servandas  tempore  nostro.4 

Alexander  was  not  really  an  innovator.     He  followed 

1  See  the  Einleitung  to  Reichling's  edition  of  the  Doctrinale  already  referred 
to  ;  also  Thurot,  De  Alexandra  de  Villa.- Dei  dottrinali  (Paris,  1850).  The  chief 
mediaeval  rival  of  the  Doctrinale  was  the  Graecismus  of  Eberhard  of  Bethune, 
written  a  little  later.  See  Paetow,  o.c.  p.  38. 

*  Doctrinale,  line  1561  sqq. 

3  Doctrinale^  1603  sqq. 

4  Doctrinale,  2330-2331. 


CHAP,  xxx         SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  127 

previous  grammarians  in  condemning  elision,  and  in  what  he 
says  of  quantity  and  accent  In  his  syntax  he  endeavoured 
to  set  forth  rules  conforming  to  the  best  Latin  usage  of  his 
time,  like  other  mediaeval  grammarians  before  him.  He 
was  indeed  vehement  in  his  advocacy  of  recent  and  Christian 
authors  as  standards  of  writing,  and  he  inveighed  against 
the  scholars  of  Orleans,  who  read  the  Classics,  and  would 
have  us  sacrifice  to  the  gods  and  observe  the  indecent 
festivals  of  Faunus  and  Jove.1  But  others  defended  the 
Orleans  school,  and  perhaps  still  regarded  the  Classics  as 
the  best  arbiters  of  grammar  and  eloquence.  There  exist 
thirteenth-century  grammars  which  follow  Priscian  more 
closely  than  Alexander  does.2  Yet  his  work  represents  the 
dominant  tendencies  of  his  time. 

Twelfth  and  thirteenth  century  grammarians  recom- 
mended to  their  pupils  a  variety  of  reading,  in  which 
mediaeval  and  early  Christian  compositions  held  as  large 
a  place  as  Virgil  and  Ovid.  The  Doctrinale  advocates  no 
work  more  emphatically  than  Petrus  Riga's  Aurora^  a 
versified  paraphrase  of  Scripture.  Its  author  was  a  chorister 
in  Rheims,  and  died  in  I2O9-8  The  works  of  scholastic 
philosophers  were  not  cited  as  frequently  as  the  com- 
positions of  verse-writers  ;  yet  mediaeval  grammarians  were 
influenced  by  the  language  of  philosophy,  and  drew  from 
its  training  principles  which  they  applied  to  their  own 
science.  Grammar  could  not  help  becoming  dialectical  when 
the  intellectual  world  was  turning  to  logic  and  metaphysics. 
Commencing  in  the  twelfth  century,  overmasteringly  in  the 
thirteenth,  logic  penetrated  grammar  and  compelled  an 
application  of  its  principles.  Often  grammarians  might 
better  have  looked  to  linguistic  usage  than  to  dialectic  ;  yet 
if  grammar  was  to  become  a  rational  science,  it  had  to 
systematize  itself  through  principles  of  logic,  and  make  use 
of  dialectic  in  its  endeavour  to  state  a  reason  for  its  rules. 
Those  who  applied  logic  to  grammar  at  least  endeavoured 
to  distinguish  between  the  two,  not  always  fruitfully.  But 

1  See  passage  in  Reichling's  Einleitung,  p.  xxvii. 

2  See  e.g.  Une  Gratnmaire  latine  intdite  du  XIII'  siic/e,  par  Ch.  Fierville 
(Paris,  1886). 

3  See   Reichling,    o.c.    Einleitung,   p.    xix ;  Thurot,    Not.  ct  extr.  xxii.  2, 
p.  112  sqq. 


128  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

a  real  difference  could  not  fail  to  assert  itself  inasmuch  as 
logic  was  in  truth  of  universal  application,  while  mediaeval 
grammar  never  ceased  to  be  the  grammar  of  the  Latin 
language.  Nevertheless  its  terminology  was  largely  drawn 
from  logic.1 

So  dialectic  brought  both  good  and  ill,  proving  itself 
helpful  in  the  regulation  of  syntax,  but  banefully  affecting 
grammarians  with  the  conviction  that  language  was  the 
creature  of  reason,  and  must  conform  to  principles  of  logic. 
One  likewise  notes  with  curious  interest,  that,  from  their 
dialectic  training  apparently,  grammarians  first  found  as 
many  species  of  grammar  as  languages,2  and  then  forsook 
this  idea  for  the  view  that,  in  order  to  be  a  science,  grammar 
must  be  universal,  or,  as  they  phrased  it,  one,  and  must 
possess  principles  not  applicable  specially  to  Greek  or  Latin, 
but  to  congruous  construction  in  the  abstract',  "de  constructione 
congrua  secundum  quod  abstrahit  ab  omni  lingua  speciali," 
are  the  words  of  the  English  thirteenth-century  philosopher 
and  grammarian,  Robert  Kilwardby.3  A  like  idea  affected 
Roger  Bacon,  who  composed  a  Greek  grammar,4  which 
appears  to  have  been  intended  as  the  first  part  of  a  work 
upon  the  grammars  of  the  learned  languages  other  than 
Latin.  It  was  adapted  to  afford  a  grounding  in  the  elements 
of  Greek  :  yet  it  touches  matters  in  a  way  showing  that 
the  writer  had  thought  deeply  on  the  affinities  of  languages 
and  the  common  principles  of  grammar.  Of  this  the  follow- 
ing passage  is  evidence  : 

"Therefore,  because  I  wish  to  treat  of  the  properties  of  Greek 
grammar,  it  should  be  known  that  there  are  differences  in  the 
Greek  language,  to  be  hereafter  noted  in  giving  the  names  of  these 
dialects  (idiomata).  And  I  call  them  idiomata  and  not  linguas, 
because  they  are  not  different  languages,  but  different  properties 
which  are  peculiarities  (idiomata)  of  the  same  language.5  Wishing 

1  See  e.g.  Thurot,  o.c.  p.  176  sqq.  ;  p.  216  sqq. 

2  Thurot,  o.c.  pp.  126-127.  3  Thurot,  o.c.  p.  127. 

4  The  Greek  Grammar  of  Roger  Bacon,  ed.  by  Nolan  and  Hirsch  (Cambridge, 
1902). 

6  Bacon  defines  idioma  "as  the  determined  peculiarity  (proprietas)  of 
language,  which  one  gens  uses  after  its  custom  ;  and  another  gens  uses  another 
idioma  of  the  same  language  "  ( Greek  Grammar,  p.  26).  Dialect  is  the  modern 
term. 


CHAP,  xxx          SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  129 

to  set  forth  Greek  grammar,  for  the  use  of  the  Latins,  it  is  necessary 
to  compare  it  with  Latin  grammar,  because  I  commonly  speak 
Latin  myself,  seeing  that  the  crowd  does  not  know  Greek ;  also 
because  grammar  is  of  one  and  the  same  substance  in  all  languages, 
although  varying  in  its  non-essentials  (accidentaliter\  also  because 
Latin  grammar  in  a  certain  special  way  is  derived  from  Greek,  as 
Priscian  says,  and  other  grammarians." l 

The  dialecticizing  of  grammar  took  place  in  the  north, 
under  influences  radiating  from  Paris,  the  chief  dialectic 
centre.  These  did  not  deeply  affect  grammatical  studies 
in  Italy,  or  in  the  Midi  of  France,  which  in  some  respects 
exhibited  like  intellectual  tendencies.  Grammar  was 
zealously  studied  in  Italy,  but  it  did  not  there  become 
either  speculative  or  dialectical.  To  be  sure  northern 
manuals  were  used,  especially  the  Doctrinale ;  but  the  study 
remained  practical,  an  art  rather  than  a  science,  and  its 
chief  element,  or  end,  was  the  ars  dictaminis  or  dictandi. 
The  grammatical  treatises  of  Italians  were  treatises  upon 
this  art  of  epistolary  composition  and  the  proper  ways  of 
drawing  documents.  These  works  were  studied  also  in 
the  North,  where  the  ars  dictaminis  was  by  no  means 
neglected.2 

Latin  grammar,  although  over-dialecticized  in  the 
North,  and  in  Italy  made  very  practical,  remained  of 
necessity  the  foundation  of  classical  studies,  and  of  mediaeval 
literary  effort,  in  prose  and  verse.  As  the  basis  of  liberal 
studies,  it  had  no  truer  home  than  the  cathedral  school  of 
Chartres.8  Contemporary  writers  picture  the  manner  in 
which  this  study  was  there  made  to  perform  its  most  liberal 
office,  under  favourable  mediaeval  conditions,  in  the  first 

1  Greek  Grammar,  p.  27.     Bacon  appears  to  have  followed  Priscian  chiefly. 
As  to  whether  he  used  Byzantine  models,  or  other  sources,  see  the  Introduction 
to  Nolan  and  Hirsch's  edition  of  the  Greek  Grammar.     These  thoughts  inspiring 
Bacon's  Grammar  became  a  veritable  metaphysics  in  the  Grammatica  speculativa 
ascribed  to  Duns  Scotus,  see  post,  Chapter  XLII. 

2  Cf.  L.  Rockinger,  '« Die  Ars  Dictandi  in  Italien,"  Sitzungsber.  bayerisch. 
Akad.,  1 86 1,  pp.   98-151.      For  examples  of  these  dictamina,   see  L.   Delisle, 
"  Dictamina  Magistri  Berardi  de  Neapoli"  (a  papal  notary  equally  versed  in  law 
and  rhetoric),  Notices  et  txtraits  des  MSS.,  etc.,  vol.   27,  part  2,  p.   87  sqq.  ; 
Ch.  V.  Langlois,  "  Formulaires  de  lettres,"  etc.,  Not.  et  ext.  vol.  32  (2),  p.  i  sqq.  ; 
ibid.  vol.  34  (l),  p.  I  sqq.  and  p.  305  sqq.  and  vol.  35  (2),  p.  409  sqq. 

3  For  the  history  of  this  school  in  the  eleventh  century,  see  ante,  Chapter 
XII.  in. 

VOL.  II  K 


ijo  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND 

half  of  the  twelfth  century.  The  time  antedates  the 
&*etrimmltt  and  one  notes  at  once  that  the  Chartrian 
masters  used  the  ancient  grammatical  authorities.  This 
is  shown  by  the  Fftmttmc&om  of  Thierry,  who  was  head- 
master (jdhinfliau)  and  then  Chancellor  there  for  a  number 
of  years  between  1120  and  1150.  As  its  name  implies, 
the  work  was  a  manual,  or  rather  an  encyclopaedia,  of  the 
Seven  Arts.  Thierry  compiled  it  from  the  writings  of  the 
"  chief  doctors  on  the  arts."  He  transcribed  the  An  minor 
of  Donates  and  then  portions  of  his  larger  work.  Having 
commended  this  author  for  his  conciseness  and  subtDty, 
Thierry  next  copied  out  the  whole  of  Prisdan.  As  text- 
books for  the  second  branch  of  the  Trivinm,  he  gives 
Cicero  s  J/t  iMiMMfUHt  rktt&riat  lion  2%  RStftoricontm  4uf 
Haraaamm.  Kbri  /,  De  fnartitioitf  mrmtoria  dialogms,  and  con- 
chides  with  the  rhetorical  writings  of  Martianus  Capella 
and  J.  Severianus.1 

~  So  much  for  the  books.  Now  for  the  method  of  teach- 
ing as  described  by  John  of  Salisbury.  He  gives  the 
practice  of  Bernard  of  Chartres,  Thierry's  elder  brother, 
who  was  scholasticus  and  Qianceflot  before  him,  in  the 
first  quarter  of  the  twelfth  century.  John  has  been  advocat- 
ing the  study  of  grammar  as  the  fmndamatinm  atqme  radix 
of  those  exauses  by  which  virtue  and  philosophy  are 
reached;  and  he  is  advising  a  generous  reading  of  the 
Classics  by  the  student,  and  their  constant  use  by  the 
ptofessor,  to  illustrate  his  teaching. 

"This  method  was  followed  by  Bernard  of  Chartres,  ex**disa- 
MUI  imdh  mr  flnaJfcnfcffJJnr  iTrfi  i  in  •  wr  nr  fimfKm  By  citations  from 
the  authors  be  showed  what  was  simple  and  regular;  he  brought 
into  reBef  the  grammatical  figures,  the  rhetorical  f*donT\  the 
mlattxn  of  sophissiy,  and  pnirtrd  out  how  the  text  in  hand  bore 
•poo  other  studies;  not  that  be  sought  to  teach  everything  in  a 
single  session,  for  be  kept  in  mind  die  rapacity  of  his  audience. 
He  im.dh*Md  flmuxiuus  and  utouriety  of  diction,  and  a  fitting 
use  of  congruous  figures.  Realizing  that  practise  strengthens 


*  The  ^pMhBdhv  «aasls  IB  iHumacnpe.     I  hcve  taken  the  above  firm 
OtroL  Us  £aOa  A  rfci*n  mm  mtytm  Sgt  fOtaitRS,   1895!.  PL  231    *ff- 
appeals  to  hwe  writte*  a  rnai»r»tiiiij  am.  Ckems  KktUnt,      See 
pp.  41-46. 


CHAP,  xxx          SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  131 

memory  and  sharpens  faculty,  he  urged  his  pupils  to  imitate  what 
they  had  heard,  inciting  some  by  admonitions,  others  by  •liii 


and  penalties.  Each  pupil  recited  the  next  day  something  from 
what  he  had  heard  on  the  preceding.  The  evening  exercise,  called 
the  dtclinatio,  was  filled  with  such  an  abundance  of  grammar  that 
any  one,  of  fair  intelligence,  by  attending  it  for  a  year,  would  have 
at  his  ringers'  ends  the  art  of  writing  and  speaking,  and  would 
know  the  meaning  of  all  words  in  common  use.  But  since  no 
day  and  no  school  ought  to  be  vacant  of  religion,  Bernard  would 
select  for  study  a  subject  edifying  to  faith  and  morals.  The 
closing  part  of  this  decUnatio,  or  rather  philosophical  recitation, 
was  stamped  with  piety  :  the  souls  of  the  dead  were  commended, 
a  penitential  Psalm  was  recited,  and  the  Lord's  Prayer. 

"  For  those  boys  who  had  to  write  exercises  in  prose  or  verse, 
he  selected  the  poets  and  orators,  and  showed  how  they  should 
be  imitated  in  the  unking  of  words  and  the  elegant  ending  of 
passages.  If  any  one  sewed  another's  cloth  into  his  garment,  he 
was  reproved  for  the  theft,  but  usually  was  not  punished.  Yet 
Bernard  gentry  pointed  out  to  awkward  borrowers  that  whoever 
imitated  the  ancients  (majorcs)  should  himself  become  worthy  of 
imitation  by  posterity.  He  impressed  upon  his  pupils  the  virtue 
of  economy,  and  the  values  of  things  and  words  :  he  explained 
where  a  meagreness  and  tenuity  of  diction  was  fitting,  and  where 
copiousness  or  even  excess  should  be  allowed,  and  the  advantage 
of  due  measure  everywhere.  He  admonished  them  to  go  through 
the  histories  and  poems  with  diligence,  and  dairy  to  fix  passages  in 
their  memory.  He  advised  them,  in  reading,  to  avoid  the  super- 
fluous, and  confine  themselves  to  the  works  of  distinguished 
authors.  For,  he  said  (quoting  from  QuintiHan)  that  to  follow  out 
what  every  contemptible  person  has  said,  is  irksome  and  vain- 
glorious, and  destructive  of  the  capacity  which  should  remain  free 
for  better  things.  To  the  same  effect  he  cited  Augustine,  and 
remarked  that  the  ancients  thought  it  a  virtue  in  a  grammarian  to 
be  ignorant  of  something.  But  since  in  school  exercises  nothing 
is  more  useful  than  to  practise  what  should  be  accomplished  by  the 
art,  his  scholars  wrote  daily  in  prose  and  verse,  and  proved  them- 
selves in  discussions."  * 

This  passage  indicates  with  what  generous  use  of  the 
auctores  Bernard  expounded  grammar  and  explained  the 
orators  and  poets  ;  how  he  assigned  portions  of  their  works 
for  memorizing,  and  with  what  care  he  corrected  his  pupils' 
prose  and  metrical  compositions,  criticizing  their  know- 
ledge and  their  taste.  He  was  a  man  mindful  of  his 

1  Metalogicta,  L  cap.  ZZIT.  (Migne,  Pa*.  Lot.  199,  coL  853-856). 


132  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

Christian  piety  toward  the  dead  and  living,  but  caring 
greatly  for  the  Classics,  and  loving  study.  "  The  old  man 
of  Chartres  (senex  Carnotensis\"  says  John  of  Salisbury, 
meaning  Bernard,  "  named  wisdom's  keys  in  a  few  lines, 
and  though  I  am  not  taken  with  the  sweetness  of  the 
metre,  I  approve  the  sense  : 

4  Mens  humilis,  studium  quaerendi,  vita  quieta, 
Scrutinium  taciturn,  paupertas,  terra  aliena.   .  .   .' " l 

Bernard,  Thierry,  and  other  masters  and  scholars  of 
their  school,  as  the  advocates  of  classical  education,  detested 
the  men  called  by  John  of  Salisbury  Cornificiani,  who 
were  for  shortening  the  academic  course,  as  one  would  say 
to-day,  so  that  the  student  might  finish  it  up  in  two  or 
three  years,  and  proceed  to  the  business  of  life.  A  good 
many  in  the  twelfth  century  adopted  this  notion,  and  turned 
from  the  pagan  classics,  not  as  impious,  but  as  a  waste 
of  time.  Some  ol  the  good  scholars  of  Chartres  lost  heart, 
among  them  William  of  Conches  and  a  certain  Richard, 
both  teachers  of  John  of  Salisbury.  They  had  followed 
Bernard's  methods  ;  "  but  when  the  time  came  that  so  many 
men,  to  the  great  prejudice  of  truth,  preferred  to  seem, 
rather  than  be,  philosophers  and  professors  of  the  arts, 
engaging  to  impart  the  whole  of  philosophy  in  less  than 
three  years,  or  even  two,  then  my  masters  vanquished  by 
the  clamour  of  the  ignorant  crowd,  stopped.  Since  then, 
less  time  has  been  given  to  grammar.  So  it  has  come 
about  that  those  who  profess  to  teach  all  the  arts,  both 
liberal  and  mechanical,  are  ignorant  of  the  first  of  them, 
without  which  vainly  will  one  try  to  get  the  rest." 2 

Upon  these  people  who  seemed  charlatans,  and  yet  may 
have  represented  tendencies  of  the  coming  time,  Thierry, 
Gilbert  de  la  Porree,8  and  John  of  Salisbury  poured  their 
sarcasms.  The  controversy  may  have  clarified  Bernard's 
consciousness  of  the  value  of  classical  studies  and  deepened 
his  sense  of  obligation  to  the  ancients,  until  it  drew  from 
him  perhaps  the  finest  of  mediaeval  utterances  touching  the 

1  Polycraticus,  vii.  13  (Migne  199,  col.  666). 

2  Metalogicus,  i.  24  (Migne  199,  col.  856). 

8  Cf.  Clerval,  o.c.  p.  211  sqq.  and  p.  227  sqq. 


CHAP,  xxx          SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  133 

matter :  "  Bernard  of  Chartres  used  to  say  that  we  were  like 
dwarfs  seated  on  the  shoulders  of  giants.  If  we  see  more 
and  further  than  they,  it  is  not  due  to  our  own  clear  eyes  or 
tall  bodies,  but  because  we  are  raised  on  high  and  upborne 
by  their  gigantic  bigness."  l 

Echoes  of  this  same  controversy — have  they  ever  quite 
died  away? — are  heard  in  letters  of  the  scholarly  Peter  of 
Blois,  who  was  educated  at  Paris  in  the  middle  of  the  twelfth 
century,  became  a  secretary  of  Henry  Plantagenet  and  spent 
the  greater  part  of  his  life  in  England,  dying  about  the  year 
1 200.  He  writes  to  a  friend  : 

"You  greatly  commend  your  nephew,  saying  that  never  have 
you  found  a  man  of  subtler  vein  :  because,  forsooth,  skimming  over 
grammar,  and  skipping  the  reading  of  the  classical  authors,  he  has 
flown  to  the  trickeries  of  the  logicians,  where  not  in  the  books 
themselves  but  from  abstracts  and  note-books,  he  has  learned 
dialectic.  Knowledge  of  letters  cannot  rest  on  such,  and  the 
subtilty  you  praise  may  be  pernicious.  For  Seneca  says,  nothing  is 
more  odious  than  subtilty  when  it  is  only  subtilty.  Some  people, 
without  the  elements  of  education,  would  discuss  point  and  line 
and  superficies,  fate,  chance  and  free-will,  physics  and  matter  and 
the  void,  the  causes  of  things  and  the  secrets  of  nature  and  the 
sources  of  the  Nile  !  Our  tender  years  used  to  be  spent  in  rules  of 
grammar,  analogies,  barbarisms,  solecisms,  tropes,  with  Donatus, 
Priscian,  and  Bede,  who  would  not  have  devoted  pains  to  these 
matters  had  they  supposed  that  a  solid  basis  of  knowledge  could  be 
got  without  them.  Quintilian,  Caesar,  Cicero,  urge  youths  to  study 
grammar.  Why  condemn  the  writings  of  the  ancients  ?  it  is  written 
that  in  antiquis  est  scientia.  You  rise  from  the  darkness  of  ignorance 
to  the  light  of  science  only  by  their  diligent  study.  Jerome  glories 
in  having  read  Origen ;  Horace  boasts  of  reading  Homer  over  and 
over.  It  was  much  to  my  profit,  when  as  a  little  chap  I  was  studying 
how  to  make  verses,  that,  as  my  master  bade  me,  I  took  my  matter 
not  from  fables  but  from  truthful  histories.  And  I  profited  from 
the  letters  of  Hildebert  of  Le  Mans,  with  their  elegance  of  style  and 
sweet  urbanity ;  for  as  a  boy  I  was  made  to  learn  some  of  them  by 
heart.  Besides  other  books,  well  known  in  the  schools,  I  gained 
from  keeping  company  with  Trogus  Pompeius,  Josephus,  Suetonius, 
Hegesippus,  Quintus  Curtius,  Tacitus  and  Livy,  all  of  whom  throw 
into  their  histories  much  that  makes  for  moral  edification  and  the 
advance  of  liberal  science.  And  I  read  other  books,  which  had 
nothing  to  do  with  history — very  many  of  them.  From  all  of  them 

1  Metalogicus,  iii.  4  (Migne  199,  col.  900). 


134  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

we  may  pluck  sweet  flowers,  and  cultivate  ourselves  from  their 
urbane  suavity  of  speech." 1 

In  another  letter  Peter  writes  to  his  bishop  of  Bath,  as 
touching  the  accusation  of  some  "  hidden  detractor,"  that  he, 
Peter,  is  but  a  useless  compiler,  who  fills  letters  and  sermons 
with  the  plunder  of  the  ancients  and  Holy  Writ : 

"  Let  him  cease,  or  he  will  hear  what  he  does  not  like ;  for  I 
am  full  of  cracks,  and  can  hold  in  nothing,  as  Terence  says.  Let 
him  try  his  hand  at  compiling,  as  he  calls  it. — But  what  of  it ! 
Though  dogs  may  bark  and  pigs  may  grunt,  I  shall  always  pattern 
on  the  writings  of  the  ancients ;  with  them  shall  be  my  occupation  ; 
nor  ever,  while  I  am  able,  shall  the  sun  find  me  idle."  2 

It  is  evident  how  broadly  Peter  of  Blois,  or  John  of 
Salisbury,  or  the  Chartrians,  were  read  in  the  Latin  Classics. 
Peter  mentions  even  Tacitus,  a  writer  not  thought  to  have 
been  much  read  in  the  Middle  Ages.  We  have  been  looking 
at  the  matter  rather  in  regard  to  poetry  and  eloquence — 
belles  lettres.  But  one  may  also  note  the  same  broad 
reading  (among  the  few  who  read  at  all)  on  the  part  of  those 
who  sought  for  the  ethical  wisdom  of  the  ancients.  This  is 
apparent  (perhaps  more  apparent  than  real)  with  Abaelard, 
who  is  ready  with  a  store  of  antique  ethical  citations.3  It 
is  also  borne  witness  to  by  the  treatise  Moralis  philosophia 
de  honesto  et  uttli,  placed  among  the  works  of  Hildebert  of 
Le  Mans,4  but  probably  from  the  pen  of  William  of  Conches, 
grammaticus  post  Bernardum  Carnotensem  opulentissimus, 
as  John  of  Salisbury  calls  him.5  In  some  manuscripts  it  is 
entitled  Summa  moralium  philosophorum,  quite  appropriately. 
One  might  hardly  compare  it  for  organic  inclusiveness  with 
the  Christian  Summa  of  Thomas  Aquinas  ;  but  it  may  very 
well  be  likened  to  the  more  compact  Sentences  of  the 
Lombard 6  which  were  so  solidly  put  together  about  the 
same  time.  The  Lombard  drew  his  Sentences  from  the 
writings  of  the  Church  Fathers  ;  William's  work  consists  of 
moral  extracts,  mainly  from  Cicero,  Seneca,  Sallust,  Terence, 

1  Pctrus  Blesensis,  Epist.  101  (Migne  207,  col.  312). 

2  Epist.  92  (Migne  207,  col.  289).     These  letters  are  cited  by  Clerval. 

3  See/w/,  Chapter  XXXVI.  I. 

4  Migne,  Pat.  Lot.  171,  col.  1007-1056. 

6  Metalogicus,  i.  5.  8  See  post,  Chapter  XXXV.  I. 


CHAP,  xxx          SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  135 

Horace,  Lucan,  and  Boethius.  The  first  part,  De  honesto, 
reviews  Prudentia,  Justitia,  Fortitude,  and  under  these  a 
number  of  particular  virtues  in  correspondence  with  which 
the  extracts  are  arranged.  The  De  utili  considers  the 
adventitious  goods  of  circumstance  and  fortune. 

The  extracts  forming  the  substance  of  this  work  were 
intelligently  selected  and  smoothly  joined  ;  and  the  treatise 
was  much  used  by  those  who  studied  the  antique  philosophy 
of  life.  It  was  drawn  upon,  for  instance,  by  that  truculent 
and  well-born  Welshman,  Giraldus  Cambrensis,  in  his  De 
instructione  principum,  which  the  author  wrote  partly  to  show 
how  evilly  Henry  Plantagenet  performed  the  functions  of  a 
king.  This  irrepressible  claimant  of  St.  David's  See  had 
been  long  a  prickly  thorn  for  Henry's  side.1  But  he  was  a 
scholar,  and  quotes  from  the  whole  range  of  the  Latin 
Classics. 

Ill 

When  a  man  is  not  a  mere  transcriber,  but  puts  something 
of  himself  into  the  product  of  his  pen,  his  work  will  reflect 
his  personality,  and  may  disclose  the  various  factors  of  his 
spiritual  constitution.  To  discover  from  the  writings  of 
mediaeval  scholars  the  effect  of  their  classical  studies  upon 
their  characters  is  of  greater  interest  than  to  trace  from  their 
citations  the  authors  read  by  them.  Such  a  compilation  as 
the  Summa  moralium  which  has  just  been  noticed,  while 
plainly  disclosing  the  latter  information,  tells  nothing  of  the 
personality  of  him  who  strung  the  extracts  together.  Yet 
he  had  read  writings  which  could  hardly  have  failed  to 
influence  him.  Cicero  and  Seneca  do  not  leave  their  reader 
unchanged,  especially  if  he  be  seeking  ethical  instruction. 
And  there  was  a  work  known  to  this  particular  compiler 
which  moved  men  in  the  Middle  Ages.  Deep  must  have 
been  the  effect  of  that  book  so  widely  read  and  pondered  on 
and  loved,  the  De  consolatione  of  Boethius  with  its  intimate 
consolings,  its  ways  of  reasoning  and  looking  upon  life,  its 
setting  of  the  intellectual  above  the  physical,  its  insistence 

1  The  works  of  Giraldus  Cambrensis  are  published  in  Master  of  Rolls  Series, 
21,  in  eight  volumes.  The  last  contains  the  De  instructione  principum.  Giraldus 
lived  from  about  1147  to  1220. 


136  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vr 

that  mind  rather  than  body  makes  the  man.  Imagine  it 
brought  home  to  a  vigorous  struggling  personality — imagine 
Alfred  reading  and  translating  it,  and  adding  to  it  from  the 
teachings  of  his  own  experience.1  The  study  of  such  a  book 
might  form  the  turning  of  a  mediaeval  life ;  at  least  could 
not  fail  to  temper  the  convulsions  of  a  soul  storm-driven 
amid  unreconcilable  spiritual  conflicts. 

One  may  look  back  even  to  the  time  of  Alfred  or 
Charlemagne  and  note  suggestions  coming  from  classical 
reading.  For  instance,  the  antique  civilization  being 
essentially  urban,  words  denoting  qualities  of  disciplined  and 
polished  men  had  sprung  from  city  life,  as  contrasted  with 
rustic  rudeness.  Thus  the  word  urbanitas  passed  over  into 
mediaeval  use  when  the  quality  itself  hardly  existed  outside 
of  the  transmitted  Latin  literature.  For  an  Anglo-Saxon  or 
a  Frank  to  use  and  even  partly  comprehend  its  significance 
meant  his  introduction  to  a  new  idea.  Alcuin  writes  to 
Charlemagne  that  he  knows  how  it  rejoices  the  latter  to 
meet  with  zeal  for  learning  and  church  discipline,  and  how 
pleasing  to  him  is  anything  which  is  seasoned  with  a  touch 
of  wit — urbanitatis  sale  concilium?  And  again,  in  more 
curious  phrase,  he  compliments  a  certain  worthy  upon  his 
metrical  exposition  of  the  creed,  "wherein  I  have  found 
gold-spouting  whirlpools  (aurivomos  gurgites)  of  spiritual 
meanings  abounding  with  gems  of  scholastic  wit  (scholasticae 
urbanitatis}"  s  Though  doubtless  this  "  scholastic  wit "  was 
flat  enough,  it  was  something  for  these  men  to  get  the  notion 
of  what  was  witty  and  entertaining  through  a  word  so 
vocalized  with  city  life  as  urbanitas,  a  word  that  we  have 
seen  used  quite  knowingly  by  the  more  sophisticated  scholar, 
Peter  of  Blois. 

Again,  it  is  matter  of  common  observation  that  a 
feeling  for  nature's  loveliness  depends  somewhat  on  the 
growth  of  towns.  But  mediaeval  men  constantly  had  the 
idea  suggested  to  them  by  the  classic  poetry  of  city-dwelling 
poets.  Here  are  some  lines  by  Alcuin  or  one  of  his  friends, 
expressing  sentiments  which  never  came  to  them  from  the 
woods  with  which  they  were  disagreeably  familiar : 

1  Ante,  Chapter  VIII.  2  Akuin,  Ep.  80  (Migne  100,  col.  260). 

3  Alcuin,  Ep.  113,  ad  Paulinum  patriarcham  (Migne  100,  col.  341). 


CHAP,  xxx          SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  137 

"  O  mea  cella,  mihi  habitatio,  dulcis,  amata, 
Semper  in  aeternum,  o  mea  cella,  vale. 
Undique  te  cingit  ramis  resonantibus  arbos, 
Silvula  florigeris  semper  onusta  comis."  J 

These  are  little  hints  of  the  effect  of  the  antique  literature 
upon  men  who  still  were  somewhat  rough-hewn.  Advancing 
a  century  and  a  half,  the  influence  of  classic  study  is  seen, 
as  it  were,  "  in  the  round  "  in  Gerbert.2  It  is  likewise  clear 
and  full  in  John  of  Salisbury,  of  whom  we  have  spoken,  and 
shall  speak  again.3  For  an  admirable  example,  however,  of 
the  subtle  working  of  the  antique  literature  upon  character 
and  temperament,  we  may  look  to  that  scholar-prelate 
whose  letters  the  youthful  Peter  of  Blois  studied  with  profit, 
Hildebert  of  Lavardin,  Bishop  of  Le  Mans,  and  Archbishop 
of  Tours.  He  shows  the  effect  of  the  antique  not  so 
strikingly  in  the  knowledge  which  he  possessed  or  the 
particular  opinions  which  he  entertained,  as  in  the  balance 
and  temperance  of  his  views,  and  incidentally  in  his  fine 
facility  of  scholarship. 

Hildebert  was  born  at  Lavardin,  a  village  near  the 
mouth  of  the  Loire,  about  the  year  1055.  He  belonged  to 
an  unimportant  but  gentle  family.  Dubious  tradition  has  it 
that  one  of  his  teachers  was  Berengar  of  Tours,  and  that  he 
passed  some  time  in  the  monastery  of  Cluny,  of  whose  great 
abbot,  Hugh,  he  wrote  a  life.  It  is  more  probable  that  he 
studied  at  Le  Mans.  But  whatever  appears  to  have  been 
the  character  of  his  early  environment,  Hildebert  belongs 
essentially  to  the  secular  clergy,  and  never  was  a  monk. 
While  comparatively  young,  he  was  made  head  of  the 
cathedral  school  of  Le  Mans,  and  then  archdeacon.  In  the 
year  1096,  the  old  bishop  of  Le  Mans  died,  and  Hildebert, 
then  about  forty  years  of  age,  was  somewhat  quickly  chosen 
his  successor,  by  the  clergy  and  people  of  the  town,  in  spite 
of  the  protests  of  certain  of  the  canons  of  the  cathedral. 
The  none  too  happy  scholar-bishop  found  himself  at  once  a 
powerless  but  not  negligible  element  of  a  violently  com- 
plicated feudal  situation.  There  was  the  noble  Helias, 

1  Traube,  Poetae  Lat.  Aevi  Carolini  (Man.  Ger»t.),i,  p.  243.     Cf.  "  Versus  in 
laude  Larii  laci,"  by  Paulus  Diaconus,  ibid.  p.  42. 

2  Ante,  Chapter  XII.  3  Post,  Chapter  XXXVI.  in. 


138  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

Count  of  Maine,  who  was  holding  his  domain  against  Robert 
de  Bellesme,  the  latter  slackly  supported  by  William  Rufus 
of  England,  who  claimed  the  overlordship  of  the  land. 
Helias  reluctantly  acquiesced  in  Hildebert's  election.  Not 
so  Rufus,  who  never  ceased  to  hate  and  persecute  the  man 
that  had  obtained  the  see  which  had  been  in  the  gift  of  his 
father,  William  the  Conqueror.  It  happened  soon  after  that 
Count  Helias  was  taken  prisoner  by  his  opponent,  and  was 
delivered  over  to  Rufus  at  Rouen.  But  Fulk  of  Anjou  now 
thrust  himself  into  this  feudal  melee>  appeared  at  Le  Mans, 
entered,  and  was  acknowledged  as  its  lord.  He  left  a  garri- 
son, and  departed  before  the  Red  King  reached  the  town. 
The  latter  began  its  siege,  but  soon  made  terms  with  Fulk,  by 
which  Le  Mans  was  to  be  given  to  Rufus,  Helias  was  to 
be  set  free,  and  many  other  matters  were  left  quite  unsettled. 
Now  Rufus  entered  the  town  (1098),  where  Hildebert 
nervously  received  him  ;  Helias,  set  free  by  the  King,  offered 
to  become  his  feudal  retainer ;  Rufus  would  have  none  of 
him ;  so  Helias  defied  the  King,  and  was  permitted  to  go  his 
way  by  that  strange  man,  who  held  his  knightly  honour  sacred, 
but  otherwise  might  commit  any  atrocity  prompted  by  rage 
or  greed.  It  was  well  for  Helias  that  trouble  with  the  French 
King  now  drew  Rufus  to  the  north.  The  next  year,  1099, 
Rufus  in  England  heard  that  the  Count  had  renewed  the 
war,  and  captured  Le  Mans,  except  the  citadel.  He  hurried 
across  the  channel,  rushed  through  the  land,  entered  Le 
Mans,  and  passed  on  through  it,  chasing  Helias.  But  the 
war  languished,  and  Rufus  returned  to  Le  Mans,  or  to  what 
was  left  of  it.  Hildebert  had  cause  to  tremble.  He  had 
met  the  King  on  the  latter's  hurried  arrival  from  England 
for  the  war.  Rufus  had  spoken  him  fair.  But  now,  at  Le 
Mans,  he  was  accused  before  the  monarch  of  complicity  in 
the  revolt.  Quickly  flared  the  King's  anger  against  the  man 
whom  he  never  had  ceased  to  detest.  He  ordered  him  to 
pull  down  the  towers  of  his  cathedral,  which  rose  threaten- 
ing and  massive  over  the  city's  ruins  and  the  citadel  of  the 
King.  What  could  the  defenceless  bishop  do  to  avert 
disgrace  and  the  desolation  of  his  beloved  church  ?  Words 
were  left  him,  but  they  did  not  prove  effectual.  Rufus 
commanded  him  to  choose  between  immediate  compliance 


CHAP,  xxx          SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  139 

and  going  to  England,  there  to  submit  himself  to  the  judg- 
ment of  the  English  bishops.  He  accepted  the  latter 
alternative,  and  followed  the  King,  leaving  his  diocese  ruined 
and  his  people  dispersed.  In  England,  Rufus  dangled  him 
along  between  fear  and  hope,  till  at  last  the  disheartened 
prelate  returned  to  the  Continent,  having  ambiguously 
consented  to  pull  down  those  towers.  But  instead,  he  set  to 
work  to  repair  the  devastation  of  his  diocese.  The  reiterated 
mandate  of  the  King  was  not  long  in  following  him,  and 
this  time  coupled  with  an  accusation  of  treason.  Hildebert's 
state  was  desperate.  His  clergy  were  forbidden  to  obey 
him,  his  palace  was  sacked,  his  own  property  destroyed. 
Such  were  William's  methods  of  persuasion.  Then  the 
King  proposed  that  the  bishop  should  purge  himself  by  the 
ordeal  of  hot  iron.  Hildebert,  the  bishop,  the  theologian, 
the  scholar,  was  almost  on  the  verge  of  taking  up  the 
challenge,  when  a  letter  from  Yves,  the  saintly  Bishop  of 
Chartres,  dissuaded  him.  At  this  moment,  with  ruin  for  his 
portion,  and  no  escape,  an  arrow  ended  the  Red  King's  life 
in  the  New  Forest.  It  was  the  year  of  grace  1 100. 

Now,  what  a  change !  Henry  Beauclerc  was  from  the 
first  his  friend,  as  William  Rufus  to  the  last  had  been  his 
enemy.  Hitherto  Hildebert  has  appeared  weakly  endeavour- 
ing to  elude  destruction,  and  perhaps  with  no  unshaken 
loyalty  in  his  bosom  toward  any  cause  except  his  dire 
necessities.  Henceforth,  sailing  a  calmer  sea,  he  repays 
Henry's  favour  with  adherence  and  admiration.  He  has  no 
support  to  offer  Anselm  of  Canterbury,  still  struggling  with 
the  English  monarchy  over  investitures ;  nor  has  he  one 
word  of  censure  for  the  clever  cold-eyed  scholar  King  who 
kept  his  brother,  Robert  of  Normandy,  a  prisoner  for 
twenty-eight  years  till  he  died. 

Hildebert  had  still  thirty  years  of  life  before  him  ;  nor 
were  they  all  to  be  untroubled.  Shortly  after  the  Red 
King's  death,  he  made  a  voyage  to  Rome,  to  obtain  the  papal 
benediction.  To  judge  from  his  poems,  he  was  deeply 
impressed  with  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  city.  Returning  he 
devoted  himself  to  the  affairs  of  his  diocese  and  to  rebuilding 
the  cathedral  and  other  churches  of  Le  Mans.  In  1125,  in 
spite  of  his  unwillingness,  for  he  was  seventy  years  old,  he 


140  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

was  enthroned  Archbishop  of  Tours,  where  he  was  to  be 
worried  by  disputes  with  Louis  le  Gros  of  France  over 
investitures.  But  he  acquitted  himself  with  vigour,  especially 
through  his  letters.  A  famous  one  relates  to  this  struggle 
of  his  closing  years  : 

"  In  adversity  it  is  a  comfort  to  hope  for  happier  times.  Long 
has  this  hope  flattered  me ;  and  as  the  harvest  in  the  fields  cheers 
the  countryman,  the  expectation  of  a  fair  season  has  comforted  my 
soul.  But  now  I  no  longer  hope  for  the  clearing  of  the  cloudy 
weather,  nor  see  where  the  storm-driven  ship,  on  whose  deck  I  sit, 
may  gain  the  harbour  of  rest. 

"Friends  are  silent;  silent  are  the  priests  of  Jesus  Christ. 
And  those  also  are  silent  through  whose  prayers  I  thought  the  king 
would  be  reconciled  with  me.  I  thought  indeed,  but  in  their 
silence  the  king  has  added  to  the  pain  of  my  wounds.  Yet  it  was 
theirs  to  resist  the  injury  to  the  canonical  institutes  of  the  Church. 
Theirs  was  it,  if  the  matter  had  demanded  it,  to  raise  a  wall  before 
the  house  of  Israel.  Yet  with  the  most  serene  king  there  is  call 
for  exhortation  rather  than  threat,  for  advice  rather  than  command, 
for  instruction  rather  than  the  rod.  By  these  he  should  have  been 
drawn  to  agree,  by  these  reverently  taught  not  to  sheath  his  arrows 
in  an  aged  priest,  nor  make  void  the  canonical  laws,  nor  persecute 
the  ashes  of  a  church  already  buried,  ashes  in  which  I  eat  the 
bread  of  grief,  in  which  I  drink  the  cup  of  mourning,  from  which 
to  be  snatched  away  and  escape  is  to  pass  from  death  to  life. 

"  Yet  amid  these  dire  straits,  anger  has  never  triumphed  over 
me,  that  I  should  raise  a  hue  and  cry  against  the  anointed  of  the 
Lord,  or  wrest  peace  from  him  with  the  strong  hand  and  by  the 
arm  of  the  Church.  Suspect  is  the  peace  to  which  high  potentates 
are  brought  not  by  love,  but  by  force.  Easily  is  it  broken,  and 
sometimes  the  final  state  is  worse  than  the  first.  There  is  another 
way  by  which,  Christ  leading,  I  can  better  reach  it.  I  will  cast 
my  thought  upon  the  Lord,  and  He  will  give  me  the  desire  of  my 
heart.  The  Lord  remembered  Joseph,  forgotten  by  Pharaoh's 
chief  butler  when  prosperity  had  returned  to  him  ;  He  remembered 
David  abandoned  by  his  own  son.  Perhaps  He  will  remember 
even  me,  and  bring  the  tossing  ship  to  rest  on  the  desired  shore. 
He  it  is  who  looks  upon  the  petition  of  the  meek,  and  does  not 
spurn  their  prayers.  He  it  is  in  whose  hand  the  hearts  of  kings 
are  wax.  If  I  shall  have  found  grace  in  His  eyes,  I  shall  easily 
obtain  the  grace  of  the  king  or  advantageously  lose  it.  For  to 
offend  man  for  the  sake  of  God  is  to  win  God's  grace." l 

1  Ep.  ii.  33  (Migne  171,  col.  256).     For  the  Latin  text  of  this  letter  see  post, 
Chapter  XXXI. 


CHAP,  xxx          SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  141 

Hildebert  was  a  classical  scholar,  and  in  his  time  un- 
matched as  a  writer  of  Latin  prose  and  verse.  Many  of  his 
elegiac  poems  survive,  some  of  them  so  antique  in  sentiment 
and  so  correct  in  metre  as  to  have  been  taken  for  products 
of  the  pagan  period.  One  of  the  best  is  an  elegy  on  Rome 
obviously  inspired  by  his  visit  to  that  city  of  ruins : 

"  Par  tibi,  Roma,  nihil,  cum  sis  prope  tota  ruina." 
Its  closing  lines  are  interesting : 

"  Hie  superum  formas  superi  mirantur  et  ipsi, 

Et  cupiunt  fictis  vultibus  esse  pares. 
Non  potuit  natura  deos  hoc  ore  creare 

Quo  miranda  deum  signa  creavit  homo. 
Vultus  adest  his  numinibus,  potiusque  coluntur 

Artificum  studio  quam  deitate  sua. 
Urbs  felix,  si  vel  dominis  urbs  ilia  careret, 

Vel  dominis  esset  turpe  carere  fide  ! " 

Such  phrases,  such  frank  admiration  for  the  idols  ot 
pagan  Rome,  are  startling  from  the  pen  of  a  contemporary 
of  St.  Bernard.  The  spell  of  the  antique  lay  on  Hildebert, 
as  on  others  of  his  time.  "  The  gods  themselves  marvel  at 
their  own  images,  and  desire  to  equal  their  sculptured  forms. 
Nature  was  unable  to  make  gods  with  such  visages  as  man 
has  created  in  these  wondrous  images  of  the  gods.  There 
is  a  look  (yultus)  about  these  deities,  and  they  are  worshipped 
for  the  skill  of  the  sculptor  rather  than  for  their  divinity."  * 
Hildebert  was  not  only  a  bishop,  he  was  a  Christian ; 
but  the  sense  and  feeling  of  ancient  Rome  had  entered  into 
him.  Besides  the  poem  just  quoted,  he  wrote  another, 
either  in  Rome  or  after  his  return,  Christian  in  thought  but 
most  antique  in  sympathy  and  turn  of  phrase. 

"  Dum  simulacra  mihi,  dum  numina  vana  placerent, 
Militia,  populo,  moenibus  alta  fui  ; 

ruit  alta  senatus 
Gloria,  procumbunt  templa,  theatra  jacent." 

The  antique  feeling  of  these  lines  is  hardly  balanced  by 
the  expressed  sentiment :  "  plus  Caesare  Petrus  !  " 2  And 
again  we  hear  the  echo  of  the  antique  in 

1  For  the  entire  poem,  which  is  of  interest  throughout,  see  post,  Chapter 
XXXII.  i. 

2  For  the  poem  see  Haureau,  Melanges  pottiques  d*  Hildebert  de  Lavardin, 
p.  64  (Paris,  1882). 


142  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

"  Nil  artes,  nil  pura  fides,  nil  gloria  linguae, 
Nil  fons  ingenii,  nil  probitas  sine  re."  l 

Hildebert  has  also  a  poem  "  On  his  Exile,"  perhaps 
written  while  in  England  with  the  Red  King.  Quite  in 
antique  style  it  sings  the  loss  of  friends  and  fields,  gardens 
and  granaries,  which  the  writer  possessed  while  prospera  fata 
smiled.  Then 

"  Jurares  superos  intra  mea  vota  teneri ! " 

— a  very  antique  sentiment.  But  the  Christian  faith  of  the 
despoiled  and  exiled  bishop  reasserts  itself  as  the  poem 
closes.2  Did  Hildebert  also  write  the  still  more  palpably 
"  antique  "  elegiacs  on  Hermaphrodite,  and  other  questionable 
subjects  ? 3  That  is  hard  to  say.  He  may  or  may  not 
have  been  the  author  of  a  somewhat  scurrilous  squib  against 
a  woman  who  seems  to  have  sent  him  verses : 

"  Femina  perfida,  femina  sordida,  digna  catenis. 

"  O  miserabilis,  insatiabilis,  insatiata, 
Desine  scribere,  desine  mittere,  carmina  blandia, 
Carmina  turpia,  carmina  mollia,  vix  memoranda, 
Nee  tibi  mittere,  nee  tibi  scribere,  disposui  me. 

"  Mens  tua  vitrea,  plumbea,  saxea,  ferrea,  nequam, 
Fingere,  fallere,  prodere,  perdere,  rem  putat  aequam."  4 

With  all  his  classical  leanings,  the  major  part  of 
Hildebert  was  Christian.  His  theological  writings  which 
survive,  his  zeal  against  certain  riotous  heretics,  and  in 
general  his  letters,  leave  no  doubt  of  this.  It  is  from  the 
Christian  point  of  view  that  he  gives  his  sincerest  counsels  ; 
it  is  from  that  that  he  balances  the  advantages  of  an  active 
or  contemplative  life,  the  claims  of  the  Christian  vita  activa 
and  vita  contemplativa.  Yet  his  classic  tastes  gave  temper- 
ance to  his  Christian  views,  and  often  drew  him  to  sheer 
scholarly  pleasures  and  to  an  antique  consideration  of  the 
incidents  of  life. 

How  sweetly  the  elements  were  mixed  in  him  appears 
in  a  famous  letter  written  to  William  of  Champeaux,  that 

1  Haureau,  o.c.  p.  56.  2  Ibid.  p.  82.  3  Ibid.  p.  144. 

4  Migne,  Pat.  Lat.  171,  col.  1428.  This  volume  of  Migne  also  contains  the 
poems  criticized  and  (some  of  them)  edited  by  Haureau  in  the  book  already 
referred  to. 


CHAP,  xxx          SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  143 

Goliath  of  realism  whom  Abaelard  discomfited  in  the  Paris 
schools.  The  unhappy  William  retreated  a  little  way 
across  the  Seine,  and  laid  the  foundations  of  the  abbey  of 
St.  Victor  in  the  years  between  1 108  and  1113.  He  sought 
to  abandon  his  studies  and  his  lectures,  and  surrender  himself 
to  the  austere  salvation  of  his  soul,  and  yet  scarcely  with  such 
irrevocable  purpose  as  would  rebuff  the  temperate  advice  of 
Hildebert's  letter  proffered  with  tactful  understanding. 

"  Over  thy  change  of  life  my  soul  is  glad  and  exults,  that  at 
length  it  has  come  to  thee  to  determine  to  philosophize.  For  thou 
hadst  not  the  true  odour  of  a  philosopher  so  long  as  thou  didst  not 
cull  beauty  of  conduct  from  thy  philosophic  knowledge.  Now,  as 
honey  from  the  honeycomb,  thou  hast  drawn  from  that  a  worthy 
rule  of  living.  This  is  to  gather  all  of  thee  within  virtue's 
boundaries,  no  longer  huckstering  with  nature  for  thy  life,  but 
attending  less  to  what  the  flesh  is  able  for,  than  to  what  the  spirit 
wills.  This  is  truly  to  philosophize;  to  live  thus  is  already  to 
enter  the  fellowship  of  those  above.  Easily  shall  thou  come  to 
them  if  thou  dost  advance  disburdened.  The  mind  is  a  burden 
to  itself  until  it  ceases  to  hope  and  fear.  Because  Diogenes  looked 
for  no  favour,  he  feared  the  power  of  no  one.  What  the  cynic 
infidel  abhorred,  the  Christian  doctor  far  more  amply  must  abhor, 
since  his  profession  is  so  much  more  fruitful  through  faith.  For 
such  are  stumbling-blocks  of  conduct,  impeding  those  who  move 
toward  virtue. 

"  But  the  report  comes  that  you  have  been  persuaded  to  abstain 
from  lecturing.  Hear  me  as  to  this.  It  is  virtue  to  furnish  the 
material  of  virtue.  Thy  new  way  of  life  calls  for  no  partial  sacrifice, 
but  a  holocaust.  Offer  thyself  altogether  to  the  Lord,  since  so  He 
sacrificed  Himself  for  thee.  Gold  shines  more  when  scattered  than 
when  locked  up.  Knowledge  also  when  distributed  takes  increase, 
and  unless  given  forth,  scorning  the  miserly  possessor,  it  slips  away. 
Therefore  do  not  close  the  streams  of  thy  learning."1 

Eventually  William  followed  this,  or  other  like  advice. 
One  sees  Hildebert's  sympathetic  point  of  view  ;  he  entirely 
approves  of  William's  renunciation  of  the  world — a  good 
bishop  of  the  twelfth  century  might  also  have  wished  to 
renounce  its  troublous  honours !  Yes,  William  has  at  last 
turned  to  the  true  and  most  disburdened  way  of  living.  But 
this  abandonment  of  worldly  ends  entails  no  abandonment 
of  Christian  knowledge  or  surrender  of  the  cause  of  Christian 

1  Hildebert,  Epis.  i.  I  (Migne  171,  col.  141). 


144  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

learning.     Nay,  let  William  resume,  and  herein  give  himself 
to  God's  will  without  reserve. 

So  the  letter  presents  a  temperate  and  noble  view  of  the 
matter,  a  view  as  sound  in  the  twentieth  century  as  in  the 
twelfth.  And  a  like  broad  consideration  Hildebert  brings  to 
a  more  particular  discussion  of  the  two  modes  of  Christian 
living,  the  vita  activa  and  the  vita  contemplativa,  Leah  and 
Rachel,  Martha  and  Mary.  He  amply  distinguishes  these 
two  ways  of  serving  God  from  any  mode  of  life  with  selfish 
aims.  It  happened  that  a  devout  monk  and  friend  of  Hilde- 
bert was  made  abbot  of  the  monastery  of  St.  Vincent,  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Le  Mans.  The  administrative  duties  of 
an  abbot  might  be  as  pressing  as  a  bishop's,  and  this  good 
man  deplored  his  withdrawal  from  a  life  of  more  complete 
contemplation.  So  Hildebert  wrote  him  a  long  discursive 
letter,  of  which  our  extracts  will  give  the  thread  of  argument : 

"You  bewail  the  peace  of  contemplation  which  is  snatched 
away,  and  the  imposed  burden  of  active  responsibilities.  You  were 
sitting  with  Mary  at  the  feet  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  when  lo,  you  were 
ordered  to  serve  with  Martha.  You  confess  that  those  dishes  which 
Mary  receives,  sitting  and  listening,  are  more  savoury  than  those 
which  zealous  Martha  prepares.  In  these,  indeed,  is  the  bread  of 
men,  in  those  the  bread  of  angels." 

And  Hildebert  descants  upon  the  raptures  of  the  vita 
contemplativa>  of  which  his  friend  is  now  bereft. 

"  The  contemplative  and  the  active  life,  my  dearest  brother,  you 
sometimes  find  in  the  same  person,  and  sometimes  apart.  As  the 
examples  of  Scripture  show  us.  Jacob  was  joined  to  both  Leah 
and  Rachel;  Christ  teaches  in  the  fields,  anon  He  prays  on  the 
mountains ;  Moses  is  in  the  tents  of  the  people,  and  again  speaks 
with  God  upon  the  heights.  So  Peter,  so  Paul  Again,  action 
alone  is  found,  as  in  Leah  and  Martha,  while  contemplation  gleams 
in  Mary  and  Rachel.  Martha,  as  I  think,  represents  the  clergy  of 
our  time,  with  whom  the  press  of  business  closes  the  shrine  of  con- 
templation, and  dries  up  the  sacrifice  of  tears. 

"  No  one  can  speak  with  the  Lord  while  he  has  to  prattle 
with  the  whole  world.  Such  a  prattler  am  I,  and  such  a  priest, 
who  when  I  spend  the  livelong  day  caring  for  the  herds,  have  not  a 
moment  for  the  care  of  souls.  Affairs,  the  enemies  of  my  spirit, 
come  upon  me ;  they  claim  me  for  their  own,  they  thieve  the  private 
hour  of  prayer,  they  defraud  the  services  of  the  sanctuary,  they 
irritate  me  with  their  stings  by  day  and  infest  my  sleep ;  and  what 


CHAP,  xxx  SPELL  OF  THE  CLASSICS  145 

I  can  scarcely  speak  of  without  tears,  the  creeping  furtive  memory 
of  disputes  follows  me  miserable  to  the  altar's  sacraments, — all  such 
are  even  as  the  vultures  which  Abraham  drove  away  from  the 
carcases  (Gen.  xv.  n). 

"  Nay  more,  what  untold  loss  of  virtue  is  entailed  by  these 
occupations  of  the  captive  mind !  While  under  their  power  we  do 
not  even  serve  with  Martha.  She  ministered,  but  to  Christ ;  she 
bustled  about,  but  for  Christ.  We  truly,  who  like  Martha  bustle 
about,  and,  like  Martha,  minister,  neither  bustle  about  for  Christ  nor 
minister  to  Him.  For  if  in  such  bustling  ministry  thou  seekest  to 
win  thine  own  desire,  art  taken  with  the  gossip  of  the  mob,  or  with 
pandering  to  carnal  pleasures,  thou  art  neither  the  Martha  whom 
thou  dost  counterfeit  nor  the  Mary  for  whom  thou  dost  sigh. 

"  In  that  case,  dearest  brother,  you  would  have  just  cause  for 
grief  and  tears.  But  if  you  do  the  part  of  Martha  simply,  you  do 
well ;  if,  like  Jacob,  you  hasten  to  and  fro  between  Leah  and 
Rachel,  you  do  better ;  if  with  Mary  you  sit  and  listen,  you  do  best. 
For  action  is  good,  whose  pressing  instancy,  though  it  kill  contem- 
plation, draws  back  the  brother  wandering  from  Christ.  Yet  it  is 
better,  sometimes  seated,  to  lay  aside  administrative  cares,  and 
amid  the  irksome  nights  of  Leah,  draw  fresh  life  from  Rachel's 
loved  embrace.  From  this  intermixture  the  course  to  the  celestials 
becomes  more  inclusive,  for  thereby  the  same  soul  now  strives  for 
the  blessedness  of  men  and  anon  participates  in  that  of  the  angels. 
But  of  the  zeal  single  for  Mary,  why  should  I  speak  ?  Is  not  the 
Saviour's  word  enough,  'Mary  hath  chosen  the  best  part,  which 
shall  not  be  taken  from  her.' " 

And  in  closing,  Hildebert  shows  his  friend  the  abbot  that 
for  him  the  true  course  is  to  follow  Jacob  interchanging 
Leah  and  Rachel ;  and  then  in  the  watches  of  his  pastoral 
duties  the  celestial  vision  shall  be  also  his.1 

Could  any  one  adjust  more  fairly  this  contest,  so  insistent 
throughout  the  annals  of  mediaeval  piety,  between  active 
duties  and  heavenly  contemplation  ?  The  only  solution  for 
abbot  and  bishop  was  to  join  Leah  with  Rachel.  And  how 
clearly  Hildebert  sees  the  pervasive  peril  of  the  active  life, 
that  the  prelate  be  drawn  to  serve  his  pleasures  and  not 
Christ.  Many  souls  of  prelates  had  that  cast  into  hell ! 

In  theory  Hildebert  is  clear  as  day,  and  altogether 
Christian,  so  far  as  we  have  followed  the  counsels  of  these 
letters.  But  in  fact  the  quiet  life  had  for  him  a  temptation, 
to  which  he  yielded  himself  more  generously  than  to  any  of 

1  Hildebert,  Ep.  i.  22  (Migne  171,  col.  197). 
VOL.  II  L 


146  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

the  grosser  lures  of  his  high  prelacy.  This  temptation,  so 
alluring  and  insidious,  so  fairly  masked  under  the  proffer  of 
learning  leading  to  fuller  Christian  knowledge,  was  of  course 
the  all  too  beloved  pagan  literature,  and  the  all  too  humanly 
convincing  plausibilities  of  pagan  philosophy.  Hildebert's 
writings  evince  that  kind  of  classical  scholarship  which 
springs  only  from  great  study  and  great  love.  His  soul 
does  not  appear  to  have  been  riven  by  a  consciousness  of  sin 
in  this  behoof.  Sometimes  he  passes  so  gently  from  Chris- 
tian to  pagan  ethics,  as  to  lead  one  to  suspect  that  he  did 
not  deeply  feel  the  inconsistency  between  them.  Or  again, 
he  seems  satisfied  with  the  moral  reasonings  of  paganism, 
and  sets  them  forth  without  a  qualm.  For  there  was  the 
antique  pagan  side  of  our  good  bishop  ;  and  how  pagan 
thoughts  and  views  of  life  had  become  a  part  of  Hildebert's 
nature,  appears  in  a  most  interesting  letter  written  to  King 
Henry,  consoling  him  upon  the  loss  of  his  son  and  the  noble 
company  so  gaily  sailing  from  Normandy  in  that  ill-starred 
White  Ship  in  the  year  1 120. 

Hildebert  begins  reminding  the  King  how  much  more  it 
is  for  a  monarch  to  rule  himself  than  others.  Hitherto  he 
has  triumphed  over  fortune,  if  fortune  be  anything  ;  now  she 
has  wounded  him  with  her  sharpest  dart.  Yet  that  cannot 
penetrate  the  well-guarded  mind.  It  is  wisdom  not  to  vaunt 
oneself  in  prosperity,  nor  be  overwhelmed  with  grief  in 
adversity.  Hildebert  then  reasons  on  the  excellence  of 
man's  nature  and  will ;  he  speaks  of  the  effect  of  Adam's  sin 
in  loss  of  grace  and  entailment  of  misery  on  the  human  race. 
He  quotes  from  the  Old  Testament  and  from  Virgil.  Then 
he  proceeds  more  specifically  with  his  fortifying  arguments. 
Their  sum  is,  let  the  breast  of  man  abound  in  weapons  of 
defence  and  contemn  the  thrusts  of  fortune  ;  there  is  nothing 
over  which  the  triumphant  soul  may  not  triumph. 

"  Unhappy  he  who  lacks  this  armament ;  and  most  unhappy  he 
who  besides  does  not  know  it.  Here  Democritus  found  matter  for 
laughter,  Demosthenes  (sic)  matter  for  tears.  Far  be  it  from  thee 
that  the  chance  cast  of  things  should  affect  thee  so,  and  the  loss  of 
wisdom  follow  the  loss  of  offspring.  Thou  hast  suffered  on  dry 
land  more  grievous  shipwreck  than  thy  son  in  the  brine,  if  fortune's 
storm  has  wrested  wisdom  from  the  wise." 


CHAP,  xxx  SPELL  OF  THE   CLASSICS  147 

After  a  while  Hildebert  passes  on  to  consider  what  is 
man,  and  wherein  consists  his  welfare  : 

"  To  any  one  carefully  considering  what  man  is,  nothing  will 
seem  more  probable  than  that  he  is  a  divine  animal,  distinguished 
by  a  certain  share  of  divinity  (numinis).  By  bone  and  flesh  he 
smacks  of  the  earth.  By  reason  his  affinity  to  God  is  shown. 
Moses,  inspired,  certifies  that  by  this  prerogative  man  was  created 
in  the  image  of  God.  Whence  it  also  follows  for  man,  that  he 
should  through  reason  recognize  and  love  his  true  good.  Now 
reason  teaches  that  what  pertains  to  virtue  is  the  true  good,  and 
that  it  is  within  us.  The  things  we  temporally  possess  are  good 
only  by  opinion  (ppinione,  i.e.  not  ratione),  and  these  are  about  us. 
What  is  about  us  is  not  within  our  jus  but  another's  (alterius  juris 
sunt).  Chance  directs  them ;  they  neither  come  nor  stand  under 
our  arbitrament.  For  us  they  are  at  the  lender's  will  (j>recarid),  like 
a  slave  belonging  to  another.1  Through  such,  true  felicity  is  neither 
had  nor  lost.  Indeed  no  one  is  happy,  no  one  is  wretched  by 
reason  of  what  is  another's.  It  is  his  own  that  makes  a  man's  good 
or  ill,  and  whatever  is  not  within  him  is  not  his  own." 

Then  Hildebert  speaks  of  dignities,  of  wife  and  child, 
of  the  fruits  of  the  earth  and  riches — bona  vaga,  bona  sunt 
pennata  haec  omnia.  Men  quarrel  and  struggle  about  all 
these  things — ecce  vides  quanta  mundus  laboret  insania? 

No  one  need  point  out  how  much  more  natural  this 
reasoning  would  have  been  from  the  lips  of  Seneca  than 
from  those  of  an  archiepiscopal  contemporary  of  St.  Bernard. 
One  may,  however,  comment  on  the  patent  fact  that  this 
reflection  of  the  antique  in  Hildebert's  ethical  consolation 
reflects  a  manner  of  reasoning  rather  than  an  emotional 
mood,  and  in  this  it  is  an  instance  of  the  general  fact  that 
mediaeval  methods  of  reasoning  consciously  or  unconsciously 
followed  the  antique  ;  while  the  emotion,  the  love  and  yearning, 
of  mediaeval  religion  was  more  largely  the  gift  of  Christianity. 

1  A  technical  illustration  from  Roman  law. 

2  Hildeberti,   Ep.    ii.    12    (Migne    171,    col.    172-177).       Compare    Ep.   \. 
17,  consoling  a  friend  on  loss  of  place  and  dignities.      Hildebert's  works  are 
in  vol.   1 7 1  of  Migne's  Pat.  Lat.     A  number  of  his  poems  are  more  carefully 
edited  by  llaurcau  in  Notices  et  extraits  des  MSS.,  etc.,  vol.  28,  ii.  p.  289  sqq.  ; 
and  some  of  them  in  vol.  29,  ii.  p.  231  sqq.  of  the  same  series.     The  matter  is 
more  conveniently  given  by  Haureau  in  his  Melanges  poMques  d1  Hildebert  de 
Lavardin.     On  the  man  and  his  writings  see  De  servillers,  Hildebert  et  son  temps 
(Paris,    1876) ;   Hebert    Duperron,    De    Venerabilis   Hildeberti  vita   et   scriptis 
(Bajocis,   1855) ;  also  vol.    xi.   of  Hist.   lit.   de  la  France  ;   and   (best  of  all) 
Dieudonne,  Hildebert  de  Lavardin,  sa  vie,  ses  lettres,  etc.  (Paris,  1898). 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

EVOLUTION    OF    MEDIAEVAL    LATIN    PROSE 

CLASSICAL  antiquity  lay  far  back  of  the  mediaeval  period, 
while  in  the  nearer  background  pressed  the  centuries  of 
transition,  the  time  of  the  Church  Fathers.  The  patristic 
material  and  a  crude  knowledge  of  the  antique  passed  over 
to  the  early  Middle  Ages.  Mediaeval  progress  was  to 
consist,  very  largely,  in  the  mastery  and  appropriation  of 
the  one  and  the  other. 

The  varied  illustration  of  these  propositions  has  filled  a 
large  portion  of  this  work.  In  this  and  the  next  chapter 
we  are  concerned  with  literature,  properly  speaking ;  and 
with  the  effect  of  the  Classics,  the  pure  literary  antique, 
upon  mediaeval  literary  productions.  The  latter  are  to  be 
viewed  as  literature  ;  not  considering  their  substance,  but 
their  form,  their  composition,  style,  and  temperamental 
shading,  qualities  which  show  the  faculties  and  temper  of 
their  authors.  We  are  to  discover,  if  we  can,  wherein  the 
qualities  of  mediaeval  literature  reflect  the  Latin  Classics,  or 
in  any  way  betray  their  influence. 

It  is  an  affair  of  dull  diligence  to  learn  what  Classics 
were  read  by  the  various  mediaeval  writers  ;  and  likewise  is 
it  a  dull  affair  to  note  in  mediaeval  writings  the  direct 
borrowing  from  the  Classics  of  fact,  opinion,  sentiment,  or 
phrase.  Such  borrowing  was  incessant,  resorted  to  as  of 
course  wherever  opportunity  offered  and  the  knowledge  was 
at  hand.  It  would  not  commonly  occur  to  a  mediaeval 
writer  to  state  in  his  own  way  what  he  could  take  from  an 
ancient  author,  save  in  so  far  as  change  of  medium — from 
prose  to  verse,  or  from  Latin  to  the  vernacular — compelled 

148 


CHAP,  xxxi       MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  149 

him.  So  the  church  builders  in  Rome  never  thought  of 
hewing  new  blocks  of  stone,  or  making  new  columns,  when 
some  ancient  palace  or  temple  afforded  a  quarry.  The 
details  of  such  spoliations  offer  little  interest  in  comparison 
with  the  effect  of  antique  architecture  upon  later  styles. 
So  we  should  like  to  discover  the  effect  of  the  ancient 
compositions  upon  the  mediaeval,  and  observe  how  far  the 
faculties  and  mental  processes  of  classic  authors,  incorporate 
in  their  writings,  were  transmitted  to  mediaeval  men,  to 
become  incorporate  in  theirs. 

Unless  you  are  Virgil  or  Cicero,  you  cannot  write  like 
Virgil  or  Cicero.  Writing,  real  writing,  that  is  to  say, 
creative  self-expressive  composition,  is  the  personal  product 
and  closely  mirrored  reflex  of  the  writer's  temperament  and 
mentality.  It  gives  forth  indirectly  the  influences  which 
have  blended  in  him,  education  and  environment,  his  past 
and  present.  His  personality  makes  his  style,  his  untrans- 
mittable  style.  Yet  a  group  of  men  affected  by  the  same 
past,  and  living  at  the  same  time  and  place,  or  under 
like  spiritual  influences,  may  show  a  like  faculty  and  taste. 
Having  more  in  common  with  one  another  than  with  men 
of  other  time,  their  mental  processes,  and  therefore  their 
ways  of  writing,  will  present  more  common  qualities. 
Around  and  above  them,  as  well  as  through  their  natal  and 
acquired  faculties,  sweeps  the  genius  of  the  language,  itself 
the  age-long  product  of  a  like-minded  race.  In  harmony 
with  it,  not  in  opposition  and  repugnancy,  each  writer  must, 
if  he  will  write  that  language,  shape  his  more  personal 
diction. 

Obviously  the  personal  elements  in  classic  writings  were 
no  more  capable  of  transmission  than  the  personal  qualities 
of  the  writers.  Likewise,  the  genius  of  the  Latin  language, 
though  one  might  think  it  fixed  in  approved  compositions, 
changed  with  the  spiritual  fortune  of  the  Roman  people, 
and  constantly  transmitted  an  altered  self  and  novel  tenets 
of  construction  to  control  the  linguistic  usages  of  succeeding 
men.  None  but  himself  could  have  written  Cicero's  letters. 
No  man  of  Juvenal's  time  could  have  written  the  Aeneid, 
nor  any  man  of  the  time  of  Diocletian  the  histories  of 
Tacitus.  There  were,  however,  common  elements  in  these 


ISO  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vr 

compositions,  all  of  them  possessing  certain  qualities  which 
are  associated  with  classical  writing.  These  may  be  difficult 
to  formulate,  but  they  become  clear  enough  in  contrast  with 
the  qualities  of  mediaeval  Latin  literature.  The  mediaeval 
man  did  not  feel  and  reason  like  a  contemporary  of  Virgil 
or  Cicero  ;  he  had  not  the  same  training  in  Greek  literature  ; 
he  did  not  have  the  same  definitude  of  conception,  did  not 
care  so  much  that  a  composition  should  have  limit  and  the 
unity  springing  from  adherence  to  a  single  topic  ;  he  did 
not,  in  fine,  stand  on  the  same  level  of  attainment  and 
faculty  and  taste  with  men  of  the  Augustan  time.  He  had 
his  own  heights  and  depths,  his  own  temperament  and 
predilections,  his  own  capacities.  Reading  the  Classics  had 
not  transformed  him  into  Cicero  or  Seneca,  or  set  his  feet  in 
the  Roman  Forum.  His  feet  wandered  in  the  ways  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  whatever  he  wrote  in  prose  or  verse,  in 
Latin  or  in  his  own  vernacular,  was  himself  and  of  himself, 
and  but  indirectly  due  to  the  antecedent  influences  which  had 
been  transmuted  even  in  entering  his  nature  and  becoming 
part  of  his  temper  and  faculty. 

Any  consideration  of  the  knowledge  and  appreciation  of 
the  Classics  in  the  Middle  Ages  would  be  followed  naturally 
by  a  consideration  of  their  effect  upon  mediaeval  com- 
position ;  which  in  turn  forms  part  of  any  discussion  of  the 
literary  qualities  of  mediaeval  Latin  literature.  But  inas- 
much as  mediaeval  form  and  diction  tend  to  remove  further 
and  further  from  classical  standards,  the  whole  discussion  may 
seem  a  lucus  a  non  lucendo  for  all  the  light  it  throws  upon 
the  effect  of  the  Classics  on  mediaeval  literature.  Our  best 
plan  will  be  to  note  the  beginnings  of  mediaeval  Latinity  in 
that  post -Augustan  and  largely  patristic  diction  which 
had  been  enriched  and  reinvigorated  with  many  phrases 
from  daily  speech ;  and  then  to  follow  the  living  if 
sluggish  river  as  it  moves  on,  receiving  increment  along 
its  course,  its  currents  mottled  with  the  silt  of  mediaeval 
Italy,  France,  Germany.  We  shall  suppose  this  flood  to 
divide  in  rivers  of  Latin  prose  and  verse ;  and  we  may 
follow  them,  and  see  where  they  overflow  their  channels, 
carrying  antique  flotsam  into  the  ample  marshes  of  vernacular 
poetry. 


CHAP,  xxxi       MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  151 

There  has  always  been  a  difference  in  diction  between 
speech  and  literature.  At  Rome,  Cicero  and  Caesar,  and  of 
course  the  poets,  did  not,  in  writing,  use  quite  the  language 
of  the  people.  All  the  words  of  daily  speech  were  not 
taken  into  the  literary  or  classical  vocabulary,  which  had 
often  quite  other  words  of  its  own.  Moreover  the  writers, 
in  forming  their  prose  and  verse  and  constructing  their 
compositions,  were  affected  deeply  by  their  study  of  Greek 
literature.1  If  Caesar,  Cicero,  Virgil,  and  their  friends  spoke 
differently  from  the  Roman  shopkeepers,  there  was  a  still 
greater  difference  between  their  writings  and  the  parlance  of 
the  town. 

No  one  need  be  told  that  it  was  the  spoken,  and  not 
the  classical  Latin,  which  in  Italy,  Spain,  Provence,  and 
Northern  France  developed  into  Italian,  Spanish,  Provencal, 
and  French.  On  the  other  hand,  the  descent  of  written 
mediaeval  Latin  from  the  classical  diction  or  the  popular 
speech,  or  both,  is  not  so  clear,  or  at  least  not  so  simple. 
It  cannot  be  said  that  mediaeval  Latin  came  straight  from 
the  classical ;  and  manifestly  it  cannot  have  sprung  from 
the  popular  spoken  Latin,  like  the  Romance  tongues, 
without  other  influence  or  admixture  ;  because  then,  instead 
of  remaining  Latin,  it  would  have  become  Romance  ;  which 
it  did  not.  Evidently  mediaeval  Latin,  the  literary  and  to 
some  extent  the  spoken  medium  of  educated  men  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  must  have  carried  classic  strains,  or  have  kept 
itself  Latin  by  the  study  of  Latin  grammar  and  a  conscious 
adherence  to  a  veritable,  if  not  classical,  Latin  diction. 
The  mediaeval  reading  of  the  Classics,  and  the  earnest  and 
constant  study  of  Latin  grammar  spoken  of  in  the  previous 
chapter,  were  the  chief  means  by  which  mediaeval  Lat'n 
maintained  its  Latinity.  Nevertheless,  while  it  kept  the 
word  forms  and  inflections  of  classical  Latin,  with  most  of 
the  classical  vocabulary,  it  also  took  up  an  indefinite  supple- 

1  It  is  well  known  that  the  great  Latin  prose,  in  spite  of  variances  of  stylistic 
intent  and  faculty  among  the  individual  writers,  was  an  artistic,  not  to  say 
artificial  creation,  formed  under  the  influence  of  Greek  models.  Cicero  is  the 
supreme  example  of  this,  and  he  is  also  the  greatest  of  all  Latin  prose  writers. 
After  his  time  some  great  writers  (e.g.  Tacitus,  Quintilian)  preserved  a  like 
tradition  ;  others  (e.g.  Seneca)  paid  less  attention  to  it.  And  likewise  on  through 
the  patristic  period,  and  the  Middle  Ages  too,  some  men  endeavoured  to  preserve 
a  classic  style,  while  others  wrote  more  naturally. 


152  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

ment  of  words  from  the  spoken  Latin  of  the  late  imperial  or 
patristic  period. 

In  order  to  understand  the  genesis  and  qualities  of 
mediaeval  Latin,  one  must  bear  in  mind  (as  with  most  things 
mediaeval)  that  its  immediate  antecedents  lie  in  the  transi- 
tional fourth,  fifth,  and  sixth  centuries,  and  not  in  the 
classical  period.1  Those  centuries  went  far  toward  declassi- 
cizing  Latin  prose,  by  departing  from  the  balanced  structure 
of  the  classic  sentences  and  introducing  words  from  the 
spoken  tongue.  The  style  became  less  correct,  freer,  and 
better  suited  to  the  expression  of  the  novel  thoughts  and 
interests  coming  with  Christianity.  The  change  is  seen  in 
the  works  of  the  men  to  whom  it  was  largely  due,  Tertullian, 
Jerome,  and  other  great  patristic  writers.2  Such  men  knew 
the  Classics  well,  and  regarded  them  as  literary  models,  and 
yet  wrote  differently.  For  a  new  spirit  was  upon  them  and 
new  necessities  of  expression,  and  they  lived  when,  even 
outside  of  Christian  circles,  the  classic  forms  of  style  were 
loosening  with  the  falling  away  of  the  strenuous  intellectual 
temper,  the  poise,  the  self-reliance  and  the  self-control 
distinguishing  the  classical  epoch. 

The  stylistic  genius  of  Augustine  and  Jerome  was  not 
the  genius  of  the  formative  beginnings  of  the  Romance 
tongues,  with,  for  instance,  its  inability  to  rely  on  the  close 
logic  of  the  case  ending,  and  its  need  to  help  the  meaning 
by  the  more  explicit  preposition.  Yet  the  spirit  of  these 
two  great  men  was  turning  that  way.  They  were  not 
classic  writers,  but  students  of  the  Classics,  who  assisted 
their  own  genius  by  the  study  of  what  no  longer  was 
themselves.  So  in  the  following  centuries  the  most  careful 
Latin  writers  are  students  of  the  Classics,  and  do  not  study 
Jerome  and  Augustine  for  style.  Yet  their  writings  carry 
out  the  tendencies  beginning  (or  rather  not  beginning)  with 
these  two. 

It  was  not  in  diction  alone  that  the  Fathers  were  the 
forerunners  of  mediaeval  writers.  Classic  Latin  authors,  both 

1  Even  as  it  is  necessary,  in  order  to  appreciate  some  of  the  methods  of  the 
Latin  classical  poetry,  to  realize  that  their  immediate  antecedents  lay  in  Greek 
Alexandrian  literature  rather  than  in  the  older  Greek  Classics. 

2  See  Taylor,  Classical  Heritage,  chapter  viii. 


CHAP,  xxxi       MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  PROSE  153 

from  themselves  and  through  their  study  of  Greek  literature, 
had  the  sense  and  faculty  of  form.  Their  works  maintain  a 
clear  sequence  of  thought,  along  with  strict  pertinency  to 
the  main  topic,  or  adherence  to  the  central  current  of  the 
narrative,  avoiding  digression  and  refraining  from  excessive 
amplification.  The  classic  writer  did  not  lose  himself  in  his 
subject,  or  wander  with  it  wherever  it  might  lead  him.  But 
in  patristic  writings  the  subject  is  apt  to  dominate  the  man, 
draw  him  after  its  own  necessities,  or  by  its  casual  sugges- 
tions cause  him  to  digress.  The  Fathers  in  their  polemic 
or  expository  works  became  prolix  and  circumstantial,  intent, 
like  a  lawyer  with  a  brief,  on  proving  every  point  and 
leaving  no  loophole  to  the  adversary.  In  their  works 
literary  unity  and  strict  sequence  of  argument  may  be  cast 
to  the  winds.  Above  all,  as  it  seems  to  us,  and  as  it  would 
have  seemed  to  Caesar  or  Cicero  or  Tacitus,  allegorical 
interpretation  carries  them  at  its  own  errant  and  fantastic 
will  into  footless  mazes. 

Yet  whoever  will  understand  and  appreciate  the  writings 
of  the  Fathers  and  of  the  mediaeval  generations  after  them, 
should  beware  of  inelastic  notions.  The  question  of  unity 
hangs  on  what  the  writer  deems  the  veritable  topic  of  his 
work,  and  that  may  be  the  universal  course  of  the  providence 
of  God,  which  was  the  subject  of  Augustine's  Civitas  Dei. 
Indeed,  the  infinite  relationship  of  any  Christian  topic  was 
like  enough  to  break  through  academic  limits  of  literary 
unity.  Likewise,  the  proper  sequence  of  thought  depends 
on  what  constitutes  the  true  connection  between  one  matter 
and  another  ;  it  must  follow  what  with  the  writer  are  the 
veritable  relationships  of  his  topics.  If  the  visible  facts  of  a 
man's  environment  and  the  narratives  of  history  are  to  him 
primarily  neither  actual  facts  nor  literal  narratives,  but 
symbols  and  allegories  of  spiritual  things,  then  the  true 
sequence  of  thought  for  him  is  from  symbol  to  symbol  and 
from  allegory  to  allegory.  He  is  justified  in  ignoring  the 
apparent  connection  of  visible  facts  and  the  logic  of  the 
literal  story,  and  in  surrendering  himself  to  that  sequence 
of  thought  which  follows  what  is  for  him  the  veritable 
significance  of  the  matter. 

Yet  here  we  must  apply  another  standard  besides  that 


154  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

of  the  writer's  conception  of  his  subject's  significance.  He 
should  be  wise,  and  not  foolish.  Other  men  and  later  ages 
will  judge  him  according  to  their  own  best  wisdom.  And 
with  respect  to  the  writings  of  the  Fathers  viewed  as 
literature,  the  modern  critic  cannot  fail  to  see  them  entering 
upon  that  course  of  prolixity  which  in  mediaeval  writings  will 
develop  into  the  endless  ;  looking  forward,  he  will  see  their 
errant  habits  resolving  into  the  mediaeval  lack  of  determined 
topic,  and  their  symbolically  driven  sequences  of  thought 
turning  into  the  most  ridiculous  topical  transitions,  as  the 
less  cogent  faculties  of  later  men  permit  themselves  to  be 
suggested  any  whither. 

The  Fathers  developed  their  distinguishing  qualities  of 
style  and  language  under  the  demands  of  the  topics  absorbing 
them,  and  the  influence  of  modes  of  feeling  coming  with 
Christianity.  They  were  compelling  an  established  language 
to  express  novel  matter.  In  the  centuries  after  them, 
further  changes  were  to  come  through  the  linguistic 
tendencies  moulding  the  evolution  of  the  Romance  tongues, 
through  the  counter  influence  of  the  study  of  grammar  and 
rhetoric,  and  also  through  the  ignorance  and  intellectual 
limitations  of  the  writers.  But  as  with  the  Latin  of  the 
Fathers,  so  with  the  Latin  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  change 
of  style  and  language  was  intimately  and  spiritually 
dependent  upon  the  minds  and  temperaments  of  the  writers 
and  the  qualities  of  the  subjects  for  which  they  were  seeking 
an  expression.  A  profound  influence  in  the  evolution  of 
mediaeval  Latin  was  the  continual  endeavour  of  the  mediaeval 
genius  to  express  the  thoughts  and  feelings  through  which  it 
was  becoming  itself.  With  impressive  adequacy  and  power 
the  Christian  writers  of  the  Middle  Ages  moulded  their 
inherited  and  acquired  Latin  tongue  to  utter  the  varied 
matters  which  moved  their  minds  and  lifted  up  their  hearts. 
We  marvel  to  see  a  language  which  once  had  told  the 
stately  tale  of  Rome  here  lowered  to  fantastic  incident  and 
dull  stupidity,  then  with  almost  gospel  simplicity  telling  the 
moving  story  of  some  saintly  life  ;  again  sonorously  uttering 
thoughts  to  lift  men  from  the  earth  and  denunciations 
crushing  them  to  hell  ;  quivering  with  hope  and  fear  and 
love,  and  chanting  the  last  verities  of  the  human  soul. 


CHAP,  xxxi       MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  155 

As  to  the  evolution  of  various  styles  of  written  Latin 
from  the  close  of  the  patristic  period  on  through  the 
following  centuries,  one  may  premise  the  remark  that  there 
would  commonly  be  two  opposite  influences  upon  the  writer  ; 
that  of  the  genius  of  his  native  tongue,  and  that  of  his 
education  in  Latinity.  If  he  lived  in  a  land  where  Teutonic 
speech  had  never  given  way  to  the  spoken  Latin  of  the 
Empire,  his  native  tongue  would  be  so  different  from  the 
Latin  which  he  learned  at  school,  that  while  it  might  impede, 
it  could  hardly  draw  to  its  own  geniu ;  the  learned  language. 
But  in  Romance  countries  there  was  no  such  absolute 
difference  between  the  vernacular  and  the  Latin,  and  the 
analytic  genius  of  the  growing  Romance  dialects  did  not  fail 
to  affect  the  latter.  Accordingly  in  France,  for  example,  the 
spoken  Latin  dialect,  or  one  may  say  the  genius  that  was 
forming  the  old  French  dialects  to  what  they  were  to  be, 
tends  to  break  up  the  ancient  periods,  to  introduce  the 
auxiliary  verb  in  the  place  of  elaborate  inflections,  and  rely 
on  prepositions  instead  of  case  endings,  which  were  dis- 
appearing and  whose  force  was  ceasing  to  be  felt.  One 
result  was  to  simplify  the  order  of  words  in  a  sentence  ; 
for  it  was  not  possible  to  move  a  noun  with  its  accompanying 
preposition  wherever  it  had  been  feasible  to  place  a  noun 
whose  relation  to  the  rest  of  the  sentence  was  felt  from  its 
case  ending.  Gregory  of  Tours  is  the  famous  example  of 
these  tendencies,  with  his  Historia  francorum,  an  ideal 
forerunner  of  Froissart.  He  became  Bishop  of  Tours  in  the 
year  573.  In  his  writings  he  followed  the  instincts  of  the 
inchoate  Romance  tongues.  He  acknowledges  and  perhaps 
overstates  his  ignorance  of  Latin  grammar  and  the  rules  of 
composition.  Such  ignorance  was  destined  to  become  still 
blanker  ;  and  ignorance  in  itself  was  a  disintegrating  in- 
fluence upon  written  Latin,  and  also  gave  freer  play  to  the 
gathering  tendencies  of  Romance  speech. 

Evidently,  had  all  these  influences  worked  unchecked, 
they  would  have  obliterated  Latinity  from  mediaeval  Latin. 
Grammatical  and  rhetorical  education  countered  them 
effectively,  and  the  mighty  genius  of  the  ancient  language 
endured  in  the  extant  masterpieces.  Nevertheless  the  spirit 
of  classical  Latinity  was  never  again  to  be  a  spontaneous 


156  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

creative  power.  The  most  that  men  thenceforth  could  do 
was  to  study,  and  endeavour  to  imitate,  the  forms  in  which 
it  had  embodied  its  living  self. 

In  brief,  some  of  the  chief  influences  upon  the  writing 
of  Latin  in  the  Middle  Ages  were :  the  classical  genius 
dead,  leaving  only  its  works  for  imitation  ;  the  school 
education  in  Latin  grammar  and  rhetoric  ;  endeavour  to 
follow  classic  models  and  write  correctly  ;  inability  to  do  so 
from  lack  of  capacity  and  knowledge  ;  conscious  disregard 
of  classicism ;  the  spirit  of  the  Teutonic  tongues  clogging 
Latinity,  and  that  of  the  Romance  tongues  deflecting  it  from 
classical  constructions  ;  and  finally,  the  plastic  faculties  of 
advancing  Christian  mediaeval  civilization  educing  power 
from  confusion,  and  creating  modes  of  language  suited  to 
express  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  mediaeval  men. 

The  life,  that  is  to  say  the  living  development,  of 
mediaeval  Latin  prose,  was  to  lie  in  the  capacity  of  suc- 
cessive generations  of  educated  men  to  maintain  a  sufficient 
grammatical  correctness,  .while  at  the  same  time  writing 
Latin,  not  classically,  but  in  accordance  with  the  necessities 
and  spirit  of  their  times.  There  resulted  an  enormous 
literature  which  was  not  dead,  nor  altogether  living,  and 
lacked  throughout  the  spontaneity  of  writings  in  a  mother 
tongue  ;  for  Latin  was  not  the  speech  of  hearth  and  home, 
nor  everywhere  the  tongue  of  the  market-place  and  camp. 
But  it  was  the  language  of  mediaeval  education  and  acquired 
culture  ;  it  was  the  language  also  of  the  universal  church, 
and,  above  all  other  tongues,  expressed  the  thoughts  by 
which  men  were  saved  or  damned.  More  profoundly  than 
any  vernacular  mediaeval  literature,  the  Latin  literature  of  the 
Middle  Ages  expresses  the  mediaeval  mind.  It  thundered 
with  the  authority  that  held  the  keys  of  heaven  ;  it  was 
resonant  with  feeling,  and  through  long  centuries  gave  voice 
to  emotions,  shattering,  terror-stricken,  convulsively  loving. 
When,  say  with  the  close  of  the  eleventh  century,  the 
mediaeval  peoples  had  absorbed  with  power  the  teachings  of 
patristic  Christianity,  and  had  undergone  some  centuries  of 
Latin  schooling,  and  when  under  these  two  chief  influences 
certain  distinctive  and  homogeneous  ways  of  thinking, 
feeling,  and  looking  upon  life,  had  been  reached  ;  when,  in 


CHAP,  xxxi       MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  157 

fine,  the  Middle  Ages  had  become  themselves  and  had 
evolved  a  genius  that  could  create, — then  and  from  that  time 
appears  the  adaptability  and  power  of  mediaeval  Latin  to 
serve  the  ends  of  intellectual  effort  and  the  expression  of 
emotion. 

To  estimate  the  literary  qualities  of  classical  Latin  is  a 
simpler  task  than  to  judge  the  Latinity  and  style  of  the 
Latin  literature  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Classic  Latin  prose 
has  a  common  likeness.  In  general  one  feels  that  what 
Cicero  and  Caesar  would  have  rejected,  Tacitus  and 
Quintilian  would  not  have  admitted.  The  syntax  of  these 
writers  shows  still  greater  uniformity.  No  such  common 
likeness,  or  avoidance  of  stylistic  aberration  and  gram- 
matical solecism,  obtains  in  mediaeval  prose  or  verse.  The 
one  and  the  other  include  many  kinds  of  Latin,  and  vary  from 
century  to  century,  diversified  in  idiom  and  deflected  from 
linguistic  uniformity  by  influences  of  race  and  native  speech, 
of  ignorance  and  knowledge.  He  who  would  appreciate 
mediaeval  Latin  will  be  diffident  of  academic  standards,  and 
mistrust  his  classical  predilections  lest  he  see  aberration  and 
barbarism  where  he  might  discover  the  evolution  of  new 
constructions  and  novel  styles  ;  lest  he  bestow  encomium 
upon  clever  imitations  of  classical  models,  and  withhold  it 
from  more  living  creations  of  the  mediaeval  spirit.  He  will 
realize  that  to  appreciate  mediaeval  Latin  literature,  he  must 
shelve  his  Virgil  and  his  Cicero.1 

The  following  pages  do  not  offer  themselves  even  as  a 
slight  sketch  of  mediaeval  Latin  literature.  Their  purpose 
is  to  indicate  the  stages  of  development  of  the  prose  and  the 
phases  of  evolution  of  the  verse  ;  and  to  illustrate  the  way  in 
which  antique  themes  and  antique  knowledge  passed  into 
vernacular  poetry.  Classical  standards  will  supply  us  less 
with  a  point  of  view  than  with  a  point  of  departure. 

1  A  palpable  difficulty  in  judging  mediaeval  Latin  literature  is  its  bulk. 
The  extant  Latin  classics  could  be  tucked  away  in  a  small  corner  of  it.  Every 
well-equipped  student  of  the  Classics  has  probably  read  them  all.  One  mortal 
life  would  hardly  suffice  to  read  a  moderate  part  of  mediaeval  Latin.  And, 
finally,  while  there  are  histories  of  the  classic  literature  in  every  modern  tongue, 
there  exists  no  general  work  upon  mediaeval  Latin  writings  regarded  as  literature. 
Ebert's  indispensable  Allgemeine  Geschichte  der  Literatur  des  Mittelalters  ends 
with  the  tenth  century.  The  author  died.  Within  the  scope  of  its  purpose  Dr. 
Sandys'  History  of  Classical  Scholarship  is  compact  and  good. 


158  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

Nothing  more  need  be  said  of  the  Latin  of  the  Church 
Fathers  and  Gregory  of  Tours.  But  one  must  refer  to  the 
Carolingian  period,  in  order  to  appreciate  the  Latin  styles  of 
the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries. 

The  revival  of  education  and  classical  scholarship  under 
the  strong  rule  and  fostering  care  of  the  greatest  of  mediaeval 
monarchs  has  not  always  been  rightly  judged.  The  vision 
of  that  prodigious  personality  ruling,  christianizing,  striving 
to  civilize  masses  of  barbarians  and  barbarized  descendants 
of  Romans  and  provincials  ;  at  the  same  time  with  eager 
interest  endeavouring  to  revive  the  culture  of  the  past,  and 
press  it  into  the  service  of  the  Christian  faith  ;  the  striking 
success  of  his  endeavours,  men  of  learning  coming  from 
Ireland,  England,  Spain,  and  Italy,  creating  a  peripatetic 
centre  of  knowledge  at  the  imperial  court,  and  establish- 
ing schools  in  many  a  monastery  and  episcopal  residence 
— all  this  has  never  failed  to  arouse  enthusiasm  for  the 
great  achievement,  and  has  veiled  the  creative  deadness  of 
it  all,  a  deadness  which  in  some  provinces  of  intellectual 
endeavour  was  quite  veritably  moribund,  while  in  others  it 
betokened  the  necessary  preparation  for  creative  epochs  to 
come.1 

Carolingian  scholarship  was  directed  to  the  mastery  of 
Latin.  Grammar  was  taught,  and  the  rules  of  composition. 
Then  the  scholars  were  bidden,  or  bade  themselves,  do 
likewise.  So  they  wrote  verse  or  prose  according  to  their 
school  lessons.  They  might  write  correctly ;  but  they  had 
no  style  of  their  own.  This  was  hopelessly  true  as  to  their 
metrical  verses  ; 2  it  was  only  somewhat  less  tangibly  true  of 
their  prose.  The  "  classic "  of  the  period,  in  the  eyes  of 
modern  classical  scholars  and  also  in  the  opinion  of  the 
mediaeval  centuries,  is  Einhard's  Life  of  Cliarlemagne. 
Numberless  encomiums  have  been  passed  on  it,  and  justly 
too.  It  was  an  excellent  imitation  of  Suetonius's  Life  of 
Augustus ;  and  the  writer  had  made  a  careful  study  of 
Caesar  and  Livy.3  There  is  no  need  to  quote  from  a  writing 
so  accessible  and  well  known.  Yet  one  remark  may  be 
added  to  what  others  have  said  :  if  Einhard's  composition 

1  Ante,  Chapter  X.  2  Post,  Chapter  XXXII.,  I. 

3  See  Sandys,  History  of  Classical  Scholarship,  i.  463-464. 


CHAP,  xxxi       MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  159 

was  an  excellent  copy  of  classical  Latin  it  was  nothing  else  ; 
it  has  no  stylistic  individuality.1 

Turning  from  this  famous  biography,  we  will  illustrate 
our  point  by  quoting  from  the  letters  of  him  who  stands  as 
the  type  of  the  Carolingian  revival,  the  Anglo-Saxon  Alcuin. 
All  praise  to  this  noble  educational  coadjutor  of  Charlemagne  ; 
his  learning  was  conscientious  ;  his  work  was  important,  his 
character  was  lovable.  His  affectionate  nature  speaks  in  a 
letter  to  his  former  brethren  at  York,  where  his  home  had 
been  before  he  entered  Charlemagne's  service.  Here  is  a 
sentence  : 

"  O  omnium  dilectissimi  patres  et  fratres,  memores  mei  estote ; 
ego  vester  ero,  sive  in  vita,  sive  in  morte.  Et  forte  miserebitur  mei 
Deus,  ut  cujus  infantiam  aluistis,  ejus  senectutem  sepeliatis.  " 2 

It  were  invidious  to  find  fault  with  this  Latin,  in  which 
the  homesick  man  expresses  his  hope  of  sepulture  in  his  old 
home.  Note  also  the  balance  of  the  following,  written  to  a 
sick  friend  : 

"  Gratias  agamus  Deo  Jesu,  vulneranti  et  medenti,  flagellanti  et 
consolanti.  Dolor  corporis  salus  est  animae,  et  infirmitas  temporalis, 
sanitas  perpetua.  Libenter  accipiamus,  patienter  feramus  voluntatem 
Salvatoris  nostri."3 

This  too  is  excellent,  in  language  as  in  sentiment.  So 
is  another,  and  last,  sentence  from  our  author,  in  a  letter 
congratulating  Charlemagne  on  his  final  subjugation  of  the 
Huns,  through  which  the  survivors  were  brought  to  a 
knowledge  of  the  truth  : 

"  Qualis  erit  tibi  gloria,  O  beatissime  rex,  in  die  aeternae  retribu- 
tionis,  quando  hi  omnes  qui  per  tuam  sollicitudinem  ab  adolatriae 
cultura  ad  cognoscendum  verum  Deum  conversi  sunt,  te  ante 
tribunal  Domini  nostri  Jesu  Christi  in  beata  sorte  stantem 
sequentur ! "  4 

Again,  the  only  trouble  is  stylelessness.      In  fine,  an  absence 

1  There  was  no  attempt  at  classicism  in  the  narrative  in  which  he  recounted 
the  Translation  of  the  relics  of  the  martyrs  Marcellinus  and  Peter  from  Rome  to 
his  own  new  monasteiy  at  Seligenstadt  (Migne  104,  col.  537-594).     It  was  an 
entertaining  story  of  a  pious  theft,  and  one  may  be  sure  that  he  wrote  it  more 
easily,  and  in  a  style  more  natural  to  himself  than  that  shown  in  his  consciously 
imitative  masterpiece. 

2  Ep.  vi.  (Migne  100,  col.  146).  *  Ep.  xxxii.  (Migne  100,  col.  187). 
4  Ep.  xxxiii.  (Migne  100,  col.  187). 


160  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

of  quality  characterizes  Carolingian  prose,  of  which  a  last 
example  may  be  taken  from  the  Spaniard  Theodulphus,  Bishop 
of  Orleans,  "  an  accomplished  Latin  poet,"  and  an  educator 
yielding  in  importance  to  Alcuin  alone.  The  sentence  is 
from  an  official  admonition  to  the  clergy,  warning  them  to 
attach  more  value  to  salvation  than  to  lucre : 

"  Admonendi  sunt  qui  negotiis  ac  mercationibus  rerum  invigilant, 
ut  non  plus  terrenam  quam  viam  cupiant  sempiternam.  Nam  qui 
plus  de  rebus  terrenis  quam  de  animae  suae  salute  cogitat,  valde  a 
via  veritatis  aberrat." l 

Evidently  there  was  a  good  knowledge  of  Latin  among 
these  Carolingians,  who  laboured  for  the  revival  of  education 
and  the  preservation  of  the  Classics.  The  nadir  of  classical 
learning  falls  in  the  succeeding  period  of  break-up,  confusion, 
and  dawning  re-adjustment.  In  the  century  or  two  following 
the  year  850,  the  writers  were  too  unskilled  in  Latin  and 
often  too  cumbered  by  it,  to  manifest  in  their  writings  that 
unhampered  and  distinctive  reflex  of  a  personality  which  we 
term  style.  A  rare  exception  would  appear  in  such  a  potent 
scholar  as  Gerbert,  who  mastered  whatever  he  learned,  and 
made  it  part  of  his  own  faculties  and  temperament.  His 
letters,  consequently,  have  an  individual  style,  however  good 
or  bad  we  may  be  disposed  to  deem  it2 

Accordingly,  until  after  the  millennial  year  Latin  prose 
shows  little  beyond  a  clumsy  heaviness  resulting  from  the 
writer's  insufficient  mastery  of  his  medium  ;  and  there  are 
many  instances  of  barbarism  and  corruption  of  the  tongue 
without  any  compensating  positive  qualities.  A  dreadful 
example  is  afforded  by  the  Chronicon  of  Benedictus,  a  monk 
of  St.  Andrews  in  Monte  Soracte,  who  lived  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  tenth  century.  He  relates,  as  history,  the  fable 
of  Charlemagne's  journey  to  the  Holy  Land  ;  and  his  own 
eyes  may  have  witnessed  the  atrocious  times  of  John  XII., 
of  whom  he  speaks  as  follows  : 

"  Inter  haec  non  multum  tenipus  Agapitus  papa  decessit  (an. 
956).  Octabianus  in  sede  sanctissima  susceptus  est,  et  vocatus  est 
Johannes  duodecimi  pape.  Factus  est  tarn  lubricus  sui  corporis,  et 
tarn  audaces,  quantum  nunc  in  gentilis  populo  solebat  fieri.  Habe- 

1   Capitttla  ad  Prcsbyteros  (Migne  105,  col.  202). 
2  See  ante,  Chapter  XII. 


CHAP,  xxxi        MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  161 

bat  consuetudinem  sepius  venandi  non  quasi  apostolicus  sed  quasi 
homo  ferus.  Erat  enim  cogitio  ejus  vanum ;  diligebat  collectio 
feminarum,  odibiles  aecclesiarum,  amabilis  juvenis  ferocitantes. 
Tanta  denique  libidine  sui  corporis  exarsit,  quanta  nunc  (non  ?) 
possumus  enarrare." l 

No  need  to  draw  further  from  this  writing,  which  is 
characterized  throughout  by  crass  ignorance  of  grammar  and 
all  else  pertaining  to  Latin.  It  has  no  individual  qualities  ; 
it  has  no  style.  Leaving  this  example  of  illiteracy,  let  us 
turn  to  a  man  of  more  knowledge,  Odo,  one  of  the  greatest 
of  the  abbots  of  Cluny,  who  died  in  the  year  943.  He  left 
lengthy  writings,  one  of  them  a  bulky  epitome  of  the  famous 
Moralia  of  Gregory  the  Great.2  More  original  were  his 
three  dull  books  of  Collationes,  or  moral  comments  upon  the 
Scriptures.  They  open  with  a  heavy  note  which  their 
author  might  have  drawn  from  the  dark  temperament  of 
that  great  pope  whom  he  so  deeply  admired ;  but  the 
language  has  a  leaden  quality  which  is  not  Gregory's,  but 
Odo's. 

"  Auctor  igitur  et  judex  hominum  Deus,  licet  ab  ilia  felicitate 
paradisi  genus  nostrum  juste  repulerit,  suae  tamen  bonitatis  memor, 
ne  totus  reus  homo  quod  meretur  incurrat,  hujus  peregrinationis 
molestias  multis  beneficiis  demulcet." 

And,  again,  a  little  further  on  : 

"  Omnis  vero  ejusdem  Scripturae  intentio  est,  ut  nos  ab  hujus 
vitae  pravitatibus  compescat.  Nam  idcirco  terribilibus  suis  sententiis 
cor  nostrum,  quasi  quibusdam  stimulis  pungit,  ut  homo  terrorepulsatus 
expavescat,  et  divina  judicia  quae  aut  voluptate  carnis  aut  terrena 
sollicitudine  discissus  oblivisci  facile  solet,  ad  memoriam  reducat."  8 

1  Chronicon,  cap.  35  (Migne  139,  col.  46).     The  sense  is  easy  to  follow,  but 
the  impossible  constructions  render  an  exact  translation  quite  impossible.     It  is 
doubtful  whether  this  Benedictus  was  an  Italian.     The  Italian  writing  of  this 
period,  like  that  of  Liutprand,  is  easier  than  among  more  painful  students  north 
of  the  Alps.     But  otherwise  its  qualities  are  rarely  more  pronounced.     Ease  is 
shown,  however,  in  the  Chronicon  Venetum  of  John  the  Deacon  (d.  cir.  1008). 
See  ante,  Chapter  XIII.,  III. 

2  Migne  133.     This  work  fills  four  hundred  columns  in  Migne.     On  Odo  see 
ante,  Chapter  XII.,  II. 

3  Odo  of  Cluny,  Collationes,  lib.  i.  cap.  i.  (Migne  133,  col.  519  and  520). 

"  Therefore  God,  Creator  and  Judge  of  mankind,  although  He  have  justly  driven 
our  race  from  that  felicity  of  Paradise,  yet  mindful  of  His  goodness,  lest  man  all  guilt 
should  incur  what  he  deserves,  softens  the  sorrows  of  this  pilgrimage  with  many 
benefits.  .  .  .  Indeed  the  purpose  of  that  same  Scripture  is  to  press  us  from  the 

VOL.  II  M 


162  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

One  feels  the  dull  heaviness  of  this.  Odo,  like  many  of 
his  contemporaries,  knew  enough  of  Latin  grammar,  and  had 
read  some  of  the  Classics.  But  he  had  not  mastered  what 
he  knew,  and  his  knowledge  was  not  converted  into  power. 
The  tenth  century  was  still  painfully  learning  the  lessons 
of  its  Christian  and  classical  heritage.  A  similar  lack  of 
personal  facility  may  be  observed  in  Ruotger's  biography  of 
Bruno,  the  worthy  brother  of  the  great  emperor  Otto  I.,  and 
Archbishop  of  Cologne.  Bruno  died  in  965,  and  Ruotger, 
who  had  been  his  companion,  wrote  his  Life  without  delay. 
It  has  not  the  didactic  ponderousness  of  Odo's  writing,  but 
its  language  is  clumsy.  The  following  passage  is  of  interest 
as  showing  Bruno's  education  and  the  kind  of  learned  man 
it  made  him. 

"  Deinde  ubi  prima  grammaticae  artis  rudimenta  percepit,  sicut 
ab  ipso  in  Dei  omnipotentis  gloriam  hoc  saepius  ruminante  didicimus, 
Prudentium  poetam  tradente  magistro  legere  coepit.  Qui  sicut  est 
et  fide  intentioneque  catholicus,  et  eloquentia  veritateque  prae- 
cipuus,  et  metrorum  librorumque  varietate  elegantissimus,  tanta  mox 
dulcedine  palato  cordis  ejus  complacuit,  ut  jam  non  tantum 
exteriorum  verborum  scientiam,  verum  intimi  medullam  sensus,  et 
nectar  ut  ita  dicam  liquidissimum,  majori  quam  dici  possit  aviditate 
hauriret.  Postea  nullum  penitus  erat  studiorum  liberalium  genus 
in  omni  Graeca  vel  Latina  eloquentia,  quod  ingenii  sui  vivacitatem 
aufugeret.  Nee  vero,  ut  solet,  aut  divitiarum  affluentia,  aut  turbarum 
circumstrepentium  assiduitas,  aut  ullum  aliunde  subrepens  fastidium 
ab  hoc  nobili  otio  animum  ejus  unquam  avertit.  .  .  .  Saepe  inter 
Graecorum  et  Latinorum  doctissimos  de  philosophiae  sublimitate 
aut  de  cujuslibet  in  ilia  florentis  disciplinae  subtilitate  disputantes 
doctus  interpres  medius  ipse  consedit,  et  disputantibus  ad  plausum 
omnium,  quo  nihil  minus  amaverat,  satisfecit."1 

The  gradual  improvement  in  the  writing  of  Latin  in  the 

depravities  of  this  life.  For  to  that  end  with  its  dreadful  utterances,  as  with  so 
many  goads,  it  pricks  our  heart,  that  man  struck  by  fear  may  shudder,  and  may 
recall  to  memory  the  divine  judgments  which  he  is  wont  so  easily  to  forget,  cut 
off  by  lust  of  the  flesh  and  the  solicitudes  of  earth." 

1  Ruotgerus,  Vita  Brunonis,  cap.  4  and  6 ;  Pertz,  Mon.  Germ.  Script,  iv.  p.  254, 
and  Migne  134,  col.  944  and  946.  A  translation  of  this  passage  is  given  ante, 
Vol.  I.,  p.  310.  See  ibid.,  p.  314,  for  the  scholarship  and  writings  of  Hermannus 
Contractus,  an  eleventh-century  German.  Ruotger's  clumsy  Latin  is  outdone  by 
the  linguistic  involutions  of  the  Life  of  Wenceslaus,  the  martyr  duke  of  Bohemia, 
written  toward  the  close  of  the  tenth  century  by  Gumpoldus,  Bishop  of  Mantua, 
who  seems  to  have  cultivated  classical  rhetoric  most  disastrously  (Pertz,  Mon. 
Germ.  Script,  iv.  p.  211,  and  in  Migne  135,  col.  923  sqq. }. 


CHAP,  xxxi        MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  163 

Middle  Ages,  and  the  evolution  of  distinctive  mediaeval 
styles,  did  not  result  from  a  larger  acquaintance  with  the 
Classics,  or  a  better  knowledge  of  grammar  and  school 
rhetoric.  The  range  of  classical  reading  might  extend,  or 
from  time  to  time  contract,  and  Donatus  and  Priscian  were 
used  in  the  ninth  century  as  well  as  in  the  twelfth.  It  is 
true  that  the  study  of  grammar  became  more  intelligent  in 
the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries,  and  its  teachers  deferred 
less  absolutely  to  the  old  rules  and  illustrations.  They 
recognized  Christian  standards  of  diction  :  first  of  all  the 
Vulgate ;  next,  early  Christian  poets  like  Prudentius  ;  and 
then  gradually  the  mediaeval  versifiers  who  wrote  and  won 
approval  in  the  twelfth  century.  Thus  grammar  sought  to 
follow  current  usage.1  This  endeavour  culminated  at  the 
close  of  the  twelfth  century  in  the  Doctrinale  of  Alexander 
of  Villa  Dei.2  Before  this,  much  of  the  best  mediaeval 
Latin  prose  and  verse  had  been  written,  and  the  period  most 
devoted  to  the  Classics  had  come  and  was  already  waning. 
That  period  was  this  same  twelfth  century.  During  its 
earlier  half,  Latinity  gained  doubtless  from  such  improvement 
in  the  courses  of  the  Trivium  as  took  place  at  Chartres,  for 
example,  an  improvement  connected  with  the  intellectual 
growth  of  the  time.  But  the  increase  in  the  knowledge  of 
Latin  was  mainly  such  as  a  mature  man  may  realize  within 
himself,  if  he  has  kept  up  his  Latin  reading,  however  little  he 
seem  to  have  added  to  his  knowledge  since  leaving  his  Alma 
Mater. 

So  the  development  of  mediaeval  Latin  prose  (and  also 
verse)  advanced  with  the  maturing  of  mediaeval  civilization. 
That  which  was  at  the  same  time  a  living  factor  in  this 
growth  and  a  result  of  it,  was  the  more  organic  appropriation 
of  the  classical  and  Christian  heritages  of  culture  and  religion. 
As  intellectual  faculties  strengthened,  and  men  drew  power 
from  the  past,  they  gained  facility  in  moulding  their  Latin 

1  From  Thurot,  Notices  et  extraits,  etc.,  22  (2),  p.  87,  and  p.  341  sqq.,  one 
may  see  that  the  principles  of  construction  stated  by  mediaeval  grammarians 
followed  the  usage  of  mediaeval  writers  in  adopting  a  simpler  or  more  natural 
order  than  that  of  classical  prose.     An  extract,  for  example,  from  an  eleventh- 
century  MSS.  indicates  the  simple  order  which  this  grammarian  author  approved  : 
£.g.   "  Johannes  hodie  venit  de  civitate  ;  Petrus,  quem  Arnulfus  genuit  et  nutrivit, 
intellexit  multa"  (Thurot,  p.  87). 

2  Ante,  Chapter  XXX.,  II. 


164  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

to  their  purposes.  Writings  begin  to  reflect  the  personalities 
of  the  writers  ;  the  diction  ceases  to  be  that  of  clumsy  or 
clever  school  compositions,  and  presents  an  evolution  of 
tangible  mediaeval  styles.  Henceforth,  although  a  man  be 
an  eager  student  of  the  Classics,  like  John  of  Salisbury  for 
example,  and  try  to  imitate  their  excellences,  he  will  still 
write  mediaeval  Latin,  and  with  a  personal  style  if  he  be  a 
strong  personality.  The  classical  models  no  longer  trammel, 
but  assist  him  to  be  more  effectively  himself  on  a  higher 
plane. 

If  mediaeval  civilization  is  to  be  regarded  as  that  which 
the  peoples  of  western  Europe  attained  under  the  two 
universal  influences  of  Christianity  and  antique  culture, 
then  nothing  more  mediaeval  will  be  seen  than  mediaeval 
Latin.  To  make  it,  the  antique  Latin  had  been  modified 
and  reinspired  and  loosed  by  the  Christian  energies  of  the 
Fathers ;  and  had  then  passed  on  to  peoples  who  never 
had  been,  or  no  longer  were,  antique.  They  barbarized  the 
language  down  to  the  rudeness  of  their  faculties.  As  they 
themselves  advanced,  they  brought  up  Latin  with  them,  as 
it  were,  from  the  depths  of  the  ninth  and  tenth  centuries, 
but  a  Latin  which  in  the  crude  natures  of  these  men  had 
been  stripped  of  classical  quality ;  a  Latin  barbarous  and 
naked,  and  ready  to  be  clothed  upon  with  novel  qualities 
which  should  make  it  a  new  creature.  Throughout  all  this 
process,  while  Latin  was  sinking  and  re-emerging,  it  was 
worked  upon  and  inspired  by  the  spirit  of  the  uses  to  which 
it  was  predominantly  applied,  which  were  those  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church  and  of  the  intimacies  of  the 
Christian  soul,  pressing  to  expression  in  the  learned  tongue 
which  they  were  transforming. 

In  considering  the  Latin  writings  of  the  Middle  Ages 
one  should  bear  in  mind  the  differences  between  Italy  and 
the  North  with  respect  to  the  ancient  language.  These 
were  important  through  the  earlier  Middle  Ages,  when 
modes  of  diction  sufficiently  characteristic  to  be  called 
styles,  were  forming.  The  men  of  Latin-sodden  Italy 
might  have  a  fluent  Latin  when  those  of  the  North  still 
had  theirs  to  learn.  Thus  there  were  Italians  in  the 
eleventh  century  who  wrote  quite  a  distinctive  Latin 


CHAP,  xxxi       MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  165 

prose.1    Among  them  were  St.  Peter  Damiani,  and  St.  Anselm 
of  Aosta,  Bee,  and  Canterbury. 

The  former  died  full  of  virtue  in  the  year  1072.  We 
have  elsewhere  observed  his  character  and  followed  his 
career.2  He  was,  to  his  great  anxiety,  a  classical  scholar, 
who  had  earned  large  sums  as  a  teacher  of  rhetoric  before 
natural  inclination  and  fears  for  his  soul  drove  him  to  an 
ascetic  life.  He  was  a  master  of  the  Latin  which  he  used. 
His  style  is  intense,  eloquent,  personal  to  himself  as  well 
as  suited  to  his  matter,  and  reflects  his  ardent  character 
and  keen  perceptions.  The  following  is  a  rhetorical  yet 
beautiful  description  of  a  "  last  leaf,"  taken  from  one  of 
his  compositions  in  praise  of  the  hermit  way  of  salvation. 

"Videamus  in  arbore  folium  sub  ipsis  pruinis  hiemalibus 
lapsabundum,  et  consumpto  autumnalis  clementiae  virore,  jamjam 
pene  casurum,  ita  ut  vix  ramusculo,  cui  dependet,  inhaereat,  sed 
apertissima  levis  ruinae  signa  praetendat :  inhorrescunt  flabra, 
venti  furentes  hie  inde  concutiunt,  brumalis  horror  crassi  aeris 
rigore  densatur:  atque,  ut  magis  stupeas,  defluentibus  reliquis 
undique  foliis  terra  sternitur,  et  depositis  comis  arbor  suo  decore 
nudatur ;  cum  illud  solum  nullo  manente  permaneat,  et  velut 
cohaeredum  superstes  in  fraternae  possessionis  jura  succedat. 
Quid  autem  intelligendum  in  hujus  rei  consideratione  relinquitur, 
nisi  quia  nee  arboris  folium  potest  cadere,  nisi  divinum  praesumat 
imperium  ?  "  3 

1  So  likewise  in  regard  to  verse,  the  perfected  two-syllable  rhyme  came  first 
in  Italy,  and  more  slowly  in  the  North,  although  the  North  was  to  produce  better 
Latin  poetry.  *  Ante,  Chapters  XL,  iv.,  and  XVI. 

3  Optfsc.  xiv.,  De  ordine  erimitarum  (Migne  145,  col.  329). 

"  We  may  see  upon  a  tree  a  leaf  ready  to  succumb  beneath  the  wintry  frosts, 
and,  with  the  sap  of  autumnal  clemency  consumed,  even  now  about  to  fall,  so 
that  it  barely  cleaves  to  the  twig  it  hangs  from,  but  displays  most  evident  signs 
of  (its)  light  ruin.  The  blasts  are  quivering,  wild  winds  strike  it  from  all  sides, 
the  mid-winter  horror  of  heavy  air  congeals  with  cold  ;  and  that  you  may 
marvel  the  more,  the  ground  is  strewn  with  the  rest  of  the  leaves  everywhere 
flowing  down,  and,  with  its  locks  laid  low,  the  tree  is  stripped  of  its  grace  ;  yet 
that  alone,  none  other  remaining,  endures,  and,  as  the  survivor  of  co-heirs, 
succeeds  to  the  rights  of  the  brotherhood's  possession.  What  then  is  left  to  be 
understood  from  consideration  of  this  thing,  save  that  a  leaf  of  a  tree  cannot  fall 
unless  it  receive  beforehand  the  divine  command  ?  " 

This  description  is  rhetorically  elaborated  ;  but  Damiani  commonly  wrote 
more  directly,  as  in  this  sentence  from  a  letter  to  a  nobleman,  in  which  Damiani 
urges  him  not  to  fail  in  his  duty  to  his  mother  through  affection  for  his  wife  : 
"  Sed  forte  dices  :  mater  mea  me  frequenter  exasperat,  duns  verbis  meum  et  uxoris 
meae  corda  perturbat ;  non  possumus  tot  injuriarum  probra  perferre,  non  valemus 
austeritatis  ejus  et  severae  correptionis  molestias  tolerare  "  (Ep.  vii.  3  ;  Migne 
144,  col.  466).  This  needs  no  translation. 


166  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

Anselm's  diction,  in  spite  of  its  frequent  cloister 
rhetoric,  has  a  simple  and  modern  word-order.  An  account 
has  already  been  given  of  his  life  and  of  his  thoughts,  so 
beautifully  sky-blue,  unpurpled  with  the  crimson  of  human 
passion,  which  made  the  words  of  Augustine  more  veritably 
incandescent.1  The  great  African  was  the  strongest 
individual  influence  upon  Anselm's  thought  and  language. 
But  the  latter's  style  has  departed  further  from  the  classical 
sentence,  and  of  itself  indicates  that  the  writer  belongs 
neither  to  the  patristic  period  nor  to  the  Carolingian  time, 
busied  with  its  rearrangement  of  patristic  thought.  The 
following  is  from  his  Proslogion  upon  the  existence  of  God. 
Through  this  discourse,  Deity  and  the  Soul  are  addressed 
in  the  second  person  after  the  manner  of  Augustine's 
Confessions. 

"Excita  nunc,  anima  mea,  et  erige  totum  intellectum  tuum, 
et  cogita  quantum  potes  quale  et  quantum  sit  illud  bonum  (i.e. 
Deus).  Si  enim  singula  bona  delectabilia  sunt,  cogita  intente 
quam  delectabile  sit  illud  bonum  quod  continet  jucunditatem 
omnium  bonorum ;  et  non  qualem  in  rebus  creatis  sumus  experti, 
sed  tanto  differentem  quanto  differt  Creator  a  creatura.  Si  enim 
bona  est  vita  creata,  quam  bona  est  vita  creatrix !  Si  jucunda  est 
salus  facta,  quam  jucunda  est  salus  quae  fecit  omnem  salutem  !  Si 
amabilis  est  sapientia  in  cognitione  rerum  conditarum,  quam 
amabilis  est  sapientia  quae  omnia  condidit  ex  nihilo !  Denique,  si 
multae  et  magnae  delectationes  sunt  in  rebus  delectabilibus,  qualis 
et  quanta  delectatio  est  in  illo  qui  fecit  ipsa  delectabilia  ! "  2 

In  a  more  emotional  passage  Anselm  arouses  in  his 
soul  the  terror  of  the  Judgment.  It  is  from  a  "  Meditatio  "  : 

1  Ante,  Chapter  XI.,  IV. 

2  Proslogion,  cap.  24  (Migne  158,  col.  239). 

"  Awaken  now,  my  soul,  and  rouse  all  thy  mind,  and  consider,  as  thou  art 
able,  of  what  nature  and  how  great  is  that  Good  (God).  For  if  single  goods  are 
objects  of  delight,  consider  intently  how  delightful  is  that  good  which  contains 
the  joy  of  all  goods ;  and  not  such  as  in  things  created  we  have  tried,  but 
differing  as  greatly  as  differs  the  Creator  from  the  creature.  For  if  life 
created  is  good,  how  good  is  the  life  creatrix  !  If  joyful  is  the  salvation  wrought, 
how  joyful  is  the  salvation  which  wrought  all  salvation  !  If  lovely  is  wisdom 
in  the  knowledge  of  things  created,  how  lovely  is  the  wisdom  which  created 
all  from  nothing.  In  fine,  if  there  are  many  and  great  delectations  in  things 
delightful,  of  what  quality  and  greatness  is  delectation  {i.e.  the  delectation  that 
we  take)  in  Him  who  made  the  delights  themselves  ! " 

The  reader  may  observe  that  the  word-order  of  Anselm's  Latin  is  preserved 
almost  unchanged  in  the  translation. 


CHAP,  xxxi       MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  167 

"Taedet  animam  meam  vitae  meae;  vivere  erubesco,  mori 
pertimesco.  Quid  ergo  restat  tibi,  o  peccator,  nisi  ut  in  tota  vita 
tua  plores  totam  vitam  tuam,  ut  ipsa  tota  se  ploret  totam  ?  Sed 
est  in  hoc  quoque  anima  mea  miserabiliter  mirabilis  et  mirabili- 
ter  miserabilis,  quia  non  tantum  dolet  quantum  se  noscit;  sed 
sic  secura  torpet,  velut  quid  patiatur  ignoret.  O  anima  sterilis, 
quid  agis?  quid  torpes,  anima  peccatrix?  Dies  judicii  venit, 
juxta  est  dies  Domini  magnus,  juxta  et  velox  nimis,  dies  irae 
dies  ilia,  dies  tribulationis  et  angustiae,  dies  calamitatis  et  miseriae, 
dies  tenebrarum  et  caliginis,  dies  nebulae  et  turbinis,  dies  tubae 
et  clangoris.  O  vox  diei  Domini  amara !  Quid  dormitas,  anima 
tepida  et  digna  evomi  ?  " x 

Damiani  wrote  in  the  middle  of  the  eleventh  century, 
Anselm  in  the  latter  part.  The  northern  lands  could  as  yet 
show  no  such  characteristic  styles,2  although  the  classically 
educated  German,  Lambert  of  Hersfeld,  wrote  as  correctly 
and  perspicuously  as  either.  His  Annals  have  won  admira- 
tion for  their  clear  and  correct  Latinity,  modelled  upon 
the  styles  of  Sallust  and  Livy.  He  died  in  1077,  the  year 
of  Canossa,  his  Annals  covering  the  conflict  between  Henry 
IV.  and  Hildebrand  up  to  that  event.  The  narrative  moves 
with  spirit,  as  one  may  see  by  reading  his  description 
of  King  Henry  and  his  consort  struggling  through  Alpine 
ice  and  snow  to  reach  that  castle  never  to  be  forgotten,  and 
gain  absolution  from  the  Pope  before  the  ban  should  have 
completed  Henry's  ruin.3 

For   the    North,  the   best    period   of    mediaeval    Latin, 

1  "  Meditatio  II."  (Migne  158,  col.  722). 

"  My  soul  is  offended  with  my  life.  I  blush  to  live  ;  I  fear  to  die.  What 
then  remains  for  thee,  O  sinner,  save  that  all  thy  life  thou  weepest  over  all  thy 
life,  that  it  all  may  lament  its  whole  self.  But  in  this  also  is  my  soul  miserably 
wonderful  and  wonderfully  miserable,  since  it  does  not  grieve  as  much  as  it  knows 
itself  (i.e.  to  the  full  extent  of  its  self-knowledge)  but  secure,  is  listless  as  if  it 
knew  not  what  it  may  be  suffering.  O  barren  soul,  what  art  thou  doing  ?  why  art 
thou  drowsing,  sinner  soul  ?  The  Day  of  Judgment  is  coming,  near  is  the  great 
day  of  the  Lord,  near  and  too  swift  the  day  of  wrath,  (that  day ! )  day  of  tribulation 
and  distress,  day  of  calamity  and  misery,  day  of  shades  and  darkness,  day  of 
cloud  and  whirlwind,  day  of  the  trump  and  the  roar  !  O  voice  of  the  day  of 
the  Lord — harsh  !  Why  sleepest  thou,  soul  lukewarm  and  fit  to  be  spewed 
out  ?  " 

2  Perhaps  it  may  seem  questionable  to  treat  Anselm  as  an  Italian,  since  he 
left  Lombardy  when  a  young  man.      Undoubtedly  his  theological  interests  were 
affected  by  his  northern  environment.     But  his  temperament  and  language,  his 
diction,  his  style,  seem  to  me  more  closely  connected  with  native  temperament. 

3  Annals  for  the  year  1077  (Migne  146,  col.  1234  sqq.) ;  also  in  Mon.  Germ. 
Script,  iii. 


168  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v. 

prose  as  well  as  verse,  opens  with  the  twelfth  century.  It 
was  indeed  the  great  literary  period  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
For  the  vernacular  literatures  flourished  as  well  as  the 
Latin.  Provencal  literature  began  as  the  eleventh  century 
closed,  and  was  stifled  in  the  thirteenth  by  the  Albigensian 
Crusade.  So  the  twelfth  was  its  great  period.  Likewise 
with  the  Old  French  literature :  except  the  Roland  which 
is  earlier,  the  chief  chansons  de  geste  belong  to  the  twelfth 
century  ;  also  the  romances  of  antiquity,  to  be  spoken  of 
hereafter  ;  also  the  romances  of  the  Round  Table,  and  a 
great  mass  of  diansons  and  fabliaux.  The  Old  German — 
or  rather,  Mittd  Hochdeutsch — literature  touches  its  height 
as  the  century  closes  and  the  next  begins,  in  the  works  of 
Heinrich  von  Veldeke,  Gottfried  von  Strassburg,  Wolfram 
von  Eschenbach,  and  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide. 

The  best  Latin  writers  of  the  century  lived,  or  sojourned, 
or  were  educated,  for  the  most  part  in  the  France  north  of 
the  Loire.  Not  that  all  of  them  were  natives  of  that 
territory  ;  for  some  were  German  born,  some  saw  the  light 
in  England,  and  the  birthplace  of  many  is  unknown.  Yet 
they  seem  to  belong  to  France.  Nearly  all  were  ecclesiastics, 
secular  or  regular.  Many  of  them  were  notables  in  theology, 
like  Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  Abaelard,  Alanus  de  Insulis  (Lille)  ; 
many  were  poets  as  well,  like  Alanus  and  Hildebert  and  John 
of  Salisbury  too  ;  one  was  a  thunderer  on  the  earth,  and  a 
most  deft  politician,  Bernard  of  Clairvaux.  Some  again  are 
known  only  as  poets,  sacred  or  profane,  like  Adam  of  St. 
Victor,  and  Walter  of  Chatillon — but  of  these  hereafter. 
The  best  Latin  prose  writing  of  this,  or  any  other,  mediaeval 
period,  had  its  definite  purpose,  metaphysical,  theological,  or 
pietistic  ;  and  the  writers  have  been  or  will  be  spoken  of 
in  connection  with  their  specific  fields  of  intellectual  achieve- 
ment or  religious  fervour.  Here,  without  discussing  the  men 
or  their  works,  some  favourable  examples  of  their  writing 
will  be  given. 

In  the  last  passage  quoted  from  Anselm,  the  reader 
must  have  felt  the  working  of  cloister  rhetoric,  and  have 
noticed  the  antitheses  and  rhymes,  to  which  mediaeval  Latin 
lent  itself  so  readily.  Yet  it  is  a  slight  affair  compared  with 
the  confounding  sonorousness,  the  flaring  pictures,  and 


CHAP,  xxxi       MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  PROSE  169 

terrifying  climaxes  of  St.  Bernard  when  preaching  upon  the 
same  topic — the  Judgment  Day.  In  one  of  his  famous 
sermons  on  Canticles,  the  saint  has  been  suggesting  to  his 
audience,  the  monks  of  Clara  Vallis,  that  although  the  Father 
might  ignore  faults,  not  so  the  Dominus  and  Creator :  "  et 
qui  parcit  filio,  non  parcet  figmento,  non  parcet  servo 
nequam."  Listen  to  the  carrying  out  and  pointing  of  this 
thought : 

"Pensa  cujus  sit  formidinis  et  horroris  tuum  atque  omnium 
contempsisse  factorem,  offendisse  Dominum  majestatis.  Majestatis 
est  timeri,  Domini  est  timeri,  et  maxima  hujus  majestatis,  hujusque 
Domini.  Nam  si  reum  regiae  majestatis,  quamvis  humanae, 
humanis  legibus  plecti  capite  sancitum  sit,  quis  finis  contemnentium 
divinam  omnipotentiam  erit  ?  Tangit  montes,  et  fumigant ;  et  tarn 
tremendam  majestatem  audet  irritare  vilis  pulvisculus,  uno  levi 
flatu  mox  dispergendus,  et  minime  recolligendus  ?  Ille,  ille 
timendus  est,  qui  postquam  accident  corpus,  potestatem  habet 
mittere  et  in  gehennam.  Paveo  gehennam,  paveo  judicis  vultum, 
ipsis  quoque  tremendum  angelicis  potestatibus.  Contremisco  ab 
ira  potentis,  a  facie  furoris  ejus,  a  fragore  ruentis  mundi,  a  con- 
flagratione  elementorum,  a  tempestate  valida,  a  voce  archangeli,  et 
a  verbo  aspero.  [Feel  the  climax  of  this  sentence,  which  tells  the 
end  of  the  sinner.]  Contremisco  a  dentibus  bestiae  infernalis,  a 
ventre  inferi,  a  rugientibus  praeparatis  ad  escam.  Horreo  vermem 
rodentem,  et  ignem  torrentem,  fumum,  et  vaporem,  et  sulphur,  et 
spiritum  procellarum ;  horreo  tenebras  exteriores.  Quis  dabit 
capiti  meo  aquam,  et  oculis  meis  fontem  lacrymarum  ut  praeveniam 
fletibus  fletum,  et  stridorem  dentium,  et  manuum  pedumque  dura 
vincula,  et  pondus  catenarum  prementium,  stringentium,  urentium, 
nee  consumentium  ?  Heu  me,  mater  mea !  utquid  me  genuisti 
filium  doloris,  filium  amaritudinis,  indignationis  et  plorationis 
aeternae  ?  Cur  exceptus  genibus,  cur  lactatus  uberibus,  natus  in 
combustionem,  et  cibus  ignis  ?  " 1 

As  one  recovers  from  the  sound  and  power  of  this  high- 
wrought  passage,  he  notices  how  readily  it  might  be  turned 
into  the  form  of  a  Latin  hymn  ;  and  also  how  very  modern 
is  its  sequence  of  words.  Bernard's  Latin  could  whisper 

1  Sermo  xvi.  (Migne  183,  col.  851).  The  power  of  this  passage  keeps  it 
from  being  hysterical.  But  the  monkish  hysteria,  without  the  power,  may  be 
found  in  the  writings  of  St.  Bernard's  jackal,  William  of  St.  Thierry,  printed 
in  Migne,  Pat.  Lat.  1 80.  Notice  his  Meditationes,  for  example ;  also  his 
De  contemplando  Deo,  printed  among  St.  Bernard's  works  (Migne  184,  col. 
365  W.). 


170  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

intimate  love,  as  well  as  thunder  terror.      He  says,  preaching 
on  the  medicina,  the  healing  power,  of  Jesu's  name  : 

"Hoc  tibi  electuarium  habes,  o  anima  mea,  reconditum  in 
vasculo  vocabuli  hujus  quod  est  Jesus,  salutiferum,  certe,  quodque 
nulli  unquam  pesti  tuae  inveniatur  inefficax."1 

With  the  music  of  this  prose  one  may  compare  the 
sweet  personal  plaint  of  the  following : 

"Felices  quos  abscondit  in  tabernaculo  suo  in  umbra  alarum 
suarum  sperantes,  donee  transeat  iniquitas.  Caeterum  ego  infelix, 
pauper  et  nudus,  homo  natus  ad  laborem,  implumis  avicula  pene 
omni  tempore  nidulo  exsulans,  vento  exposita  et  turbini,  turbatus 
sum  et  motus  sum  sicut  ebrius,  et  omnis  conscientia  mea  devorata 
est."  2 

Extracts  can  give  no  idea  of  Bernard's  literary  powers, 
any  more  than  a  small  volume  could  tell  the  story  of  that 
life  which,  so  to  speak,  was  magna  pars  of  all  contemporary 
history.  But  since  he  was  one  of  the  best  of  Latin  letter- 
writers,  one  should  not  omit  an  example  of  his  varied 
epistolary  style,  which  can  be  known  in  its  compass  only 
from  a  large  reading  of  his  letters.  The  following  is  a  short 
letter,  written  to  win  back  to  the  cloister  a  delicately  nurtured 
youth  whose  parents  had  lured  him  out  into  the  world. 

"  Doleo  super  te,  fili  mi  Gaufride,  doleo  super  te.  Et  merito. 
Quis  enim  non  doleat  florem  juventutis  tuae,  quern  laetantibus 
angelis  Deo  illibatum  obtuleras  in  odorem  suavitatis,  nunc  a 
daemonibus  conculcari,  vitiorum  spurcitiis,  et  saeculi  sordibus 
inquinari  ?  Quomodo  qui  vocatus  eras  a  Deo,  revocantem  diabolum 
sequeris,  et  quern  Christus  trahere  coeperat  post  se,  repente  pedem 
ab  ipso  introitu  gloriae  retraxisti  ?  In  te  experior  nunc  veritatem 
sermonis  Domini,  quern  dixit :  Inimici  hominis,  domestic!  ejus 
(Matt.  x.  36).  Amici  tui  et  proximi  •  tui  adversum  te  appro- 
pinquaverunt,  et  steterunt.  Revocaverunt  te  in  fauces  leonis,  et  in 
portis  mortis  iterum  collocaverunt  te.  Collocaverunt  te  in  obscuris, 
sicut  mortuos  saeculi :  et  jam  parum  est  ut  descendas  in  ventrem 
inferi ;  jam  te  deglutire  festinat,  ac  rugientibus  praeparatis  ad  escam 
tradere  devorandum. 

"Revertere,  quaeso,  revertere,  priusquam  te  absorbeat  profundum, 
et  urgeat  super  te  puteus  os  suum  ;  priusquam  demergaris,  unde 
ulterius  non  emergas ;  priusquam  ligatis  manibus  et  pedibus  pro- 
jiciaris  in  tenebras  exteriores,  ubi  est  fletus  et  stridor  dentium  ; 

1  Sermo  xv.  (Migne  183,  col.  847).     Translated  ante,  Vol.  I.,  p.  411. 
2  Ep.  xii.,  ad  Guigonem  (Migne  182,  col.  116). 


CHAP,  xxxi       MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  171 

priusquam  detrudaris  in  locum  tenebrosum,  et  opertum  mortis 
caligine.  Erubescis  forte  redire,  quia  ad  horam  cessisti.  Erubesce 
fugam,  et  non  post  fugam  reverti  in  proelium,  et  rursum  pugnare. 
Necdum  finis  pugnae,  necdum  ab  invicem  dimicantes  acies 
discesserunt :  adhuc  victoria  prae  manibus  est.  Si  vis,  nolumus 
vincere  sine  te,  nee  tuam  tibi  invidemus  gloriae  portionem.  Laeti 
occuremus  tibi,  laetis  te  recipiemus  amplexibus,  dicemusque : 
Epulari  et  gaudere  oportet,  quia  hie  films  noster  mortuus  fuerat,  et 
revixit;  perierat,  et  inventus  est  "  (Luc.  xv.  3 a).1 

The  argument  of  this  letter  is,  from  the  standpoint  of 
Bernard's  time,  as  resistless  as  the  style.  Did  it  win  back 
the  little  monk  ?  Many  wonderful  examples  of  loving 
expression  could  be  drawn  from  Bernard's  letters  ; 2  but 
instead  an  instance  may  be  given  of  his  none  too  subtle  way 
of  uttering  his  hate  :  "  Arnaldus  de  Brixia,  cujus  conversatio 
mel  et  doctrina  venenum,  cui  caput  columbae,  cauda 
scorpionis  est,  quern  Brixia  evomuit,  Roma  exhorruit, 
Francia  repulit,  Germania  abominatur,  Italia  non  vult 
recipere,  fertur  esse  vobiscum." s  And  then  he  proceeds  to 
warn  his  correspondent  of  the  danger  of  intercourse  with 
this  arch-enemy  of  the  Church. 

Considering  that  Latin  was  a  tongue  which  youths 
learned  at  school  rather  than  at  their  mothers'  knees,  such 
writing  as  Bernard's  is  a  triumphant  recasting  of  an  ancient 
language.  One  notices  in  him,  as  generally  with  mediaeval 
religious  writers,  the  influence  of  the  Vulgate,  which  was 
mainly  in  the  language  of  St.  Jerome — of  Jerome  when  not 
writing  as  a  literary  virtuoso,  but  as  a  scholar  occupied  with 
rendering  the  meaning,  and  willing  to  accept  such  linguistic 
innovations  as  served  his  purpose.4  But  beyond  this 
influence,  one  sees  how  masterful  is  Bernard's  diction, 
quite  freed  from  observance  of  classical  principles,  quite 
of  the  writer  and  his  time,  adapting  itself  with  ease  and 
power  to  the  topic  and  character  of  the  composition,  and 
always  expressive  of  the  personality  of  the  mighty  saint. 

1  Bernard,  Ep.  112,  ad  Gaufridum  (Migne  182,  col.  255).     For  translation 
see  ante,  Vol.  I.,  p.  398. 

2  E.g.  Ep.  i.  and  144  (Migne  182,  col.  70  and  300). 

3  Ep.    196,  ad  Guidonem  (Migne   182,  col.  363).     Translated  ante,  Vol.  I., 
p.  401.     See  also  the  preceding  letter,  195. 

4  As    to  Jerome's   two   styles   see   Goelzer,    La   Latiniti  de   St.    Jerome, 
Introduction. 


172  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

Hildebert  of  Le  Mans  was  a  few  years  older  than  St. 
Bernard.  As  an  example  of  his  prose  a  letter  may  be 
cited,  of  which  the  translation  has  been  given.  It  was 
written  in  1128,  when  he  was  Archbishop  of  Tours,  in 
protest  against  the  encroachments  of  the  royal  power  of  the 
French  king,  Louis  the  Fat,  upon  the  rights  of  the  Archi- 
episcopacy  of  Tours  in  the  matter  of  ecclesiastical  appoint- 
ments within  that  diocese  : 

"  In  adversis  nonnullum  solatium  est,  tempora  sperare  laetiora. 
Diutius  spes  haec  mini  blandita  est,  et  velut  agricolam  messis  in 
herba,  sic  animum  meum  prosperitatis  expectatio  confortavit. 
Caeterum  jam  nihil  est  quo  serenitatem  nimbosi  temporis  exspectem, 
nihil  est  quo  navis,  in  cujus  puppi  sedeo,  crebris  agitata  turbinibus, 
portum  quietis  attingat. 

"Silent  amici,  silent  sacerdotes  Jesu  Christi.  Denique  silent 
et  illi  quorum  suffragio  credidi  regem  mecum  in  gratiam  rediturum. 
Credidi  quidem,  sed  super  dolorem  vulnerum  meorum  rex,  illis 
silentibus,  adjecit.  Eorum  tamen  erat  gravamini  ecclesiae  canonicis 
obviare  institutis  Eorum  erat,  si  res  postulasset,  opponere  murum 
pro  domo  Israel.  Verum  apud  serenissimum  regem  opus  est 
exhortatione  potius  quam  increpatione,  consilio  quam  praecepto, 
doctrina  quam  virga.  His  ille  conveniendus  fuit,  his  reverenter 
instruendus,  ne  sagittas  suas  in  sene  compleret  sacerdote,  ne 
sanctiones  canonicas  evacuaret,  ne  persequeretur  cineres  Ecclesiae 
jam  sepultae,  cineres  in  quibus  ego  panem  doloris  manduco,  in 
quibus  bibo  calicem  luctus,  de  quibus  eripi  et  evadere,  de  morte  ad 
vitam  transire  est. 

"  Inter  has  tamen  angustias,  nunquam  de  me  sic  ira  triumphavit, 
ut  aliquem  super  Christo  Domini  clamorem  deponere  vellem,  seu 
pacem  ipsius  in  manu  forti  et  brachio  Ecclesiae  adipisci.  Suspecta 
est  pax  ad  quam,  non  amore  sed  vi,  sublimes  veniunt  potestates. 
Ea  facile  rescindetur,  et  fiunt  aliquando"  novissima  pejora  prioribus. 
Alia  est  via  qua  compendiosius  ad  earn  Christo  perducente  pertingam. 
Jactabo  cogitatum  meum  in  Domino,  et  ipse  dabit  mini  petitionem 
cordis  mei.  Recordatus  est  Dominus  Joseph,  cujus  pincerna 
Pharaonis  oblitus,  dum  prospera  succederent,  interveniendi  pro  eo 
curam  abjecit.  .  .  .  Fortassis  recordabitur  et  mei,  atque  in 
desiderate  littore  navem  sistet  fluctuantem.  Ipse  enim  est  qui 
respicit  in  orationem  humilium,  et  non  spernit  preces  eorum.  Ipse 
est  in  cujus  manu  corda  regum  cerea  sunt.  Si  invenero  gratiam  in 
oculis  ejus,  gratiam  regis  vel  facile  consequar,  vel  utiliter  amittam. 
Siquidem  offendere  hominem  proper  Deum  lucrari  est  gratiam 
Del" l 

1  Ep,  ii.  33  (Migne  171,  col.  256).     Translation  ante,  Chapter  XXX.,  ill. 


CHAP,  xxxi       MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  173 

John  of  Salisbury  (11 10-1180),  much  younger  than 
Hildebert  and  a  little  younger  than  Bernard,  seems  to  have 
been  the  best  scholar  of  his  time.  With  the  Classics  he  is 
as  one  in  the  company  of  friends  ;  he  cites  them  as  readily 
as  Scripture ;  their  sententiae  have  become  part  of  his  views 
of  life.  John  was  an  eager  humanist,  who  followed  his 
studies  to  whatever  town  and  to  the  feet  of  whatsoever 
teacher  they  might  lead  him.  So  he  listened  to  Abaelard 
and  many  others.  His  writing  is  always  lively  and  often 
forcible,  especially  when  vituperating  the  set  who  despised 
classic  reading.  His  most  vivacious  work,  the  Metalogicus^ 
was  directed  against  their  unnamed  prophet,  whom  he  dubs 
"  Cornificus."  1  Its  opening  passage  is  of  interest  as  John's 
exordium,  and  because  a  somewhat  consciously  intending 
stylist  like  our  John  is  likely  to  exhibit  his  utmost  virtuosity 
in  the  opening  sentences  of  an  important  work  : 

"  Adversus  insigne  donum  naturae  parentis  et  gratiae,  calumniam 
veterem  et  majorum  nostrorura  judicio  condemnatam  excitat 
improbus  litigator,  et  conquirens  undique  imperitiae  suae  solatia, 
sibi  proficere  sperat  ad  gloriam,  si  multos  similes  sui,  id  est  si  eos 
viderit  imperitos ;  habet  enim  hoc  proprium  arrogantiae  tumor,  ut  se 
commetiatur  aliis,  bona  sua,  si  qua  sunt,  efferens,  deprimens  aliena ; 
defectumque  proximi,  suum  putet  esse  profectum.  Omnibus  autem 
recte  sapientibus  indubium  est  quod  natura,  clementissima  parens 
omnium,  et  dispositissima  moderatrix,  inter  caetera  quae  genuit 
animantia,  hominem  privilegio  rationis  extulit,  et  usu  eloquii 
insignivit :  id  agens  sedulitate  officiosa,  et  lege  dispositissima,  ut 
homo  qui  gravedine  faeculentioris  naturae  et  molis  corporeae 
tarditate  premebatur  et  trahebatur  ad  ima,  his  quasi  subvectus  alis, 
ad  alta  ascendat,  et  ad  obtinendum  verae  beatitudinis  bravium, 
omnia  alia  felici  compendio  antecebat.  Dum  itaque  naturam 
fecundat  gratia,  ratio  rebus  perspiciendis  et  examinandis  invigilat ; 
naturae  sinus  excutit,  metitur  fructus  et  efficaciam  singulorum :  et 
innatus  omnibus  amor  boni,  naturali  urgente  se  appetitu,  hoc,  aut 
solum,  aut  prae  caeteris  sequitur,  quod  percipiendae  beatitudini 
maxime  videtur  esse  accommodum." 2 


1  See  ante,  Chapter  XXX.,  i. 

2  "Against    that    signal    gift    of    parent    nature    and    grace,     a    shameless 
wrangler  has  stirred  up  an  old  calumny,   condemned  by  the  judgment  of  our 
ancestors  ;  and,   seeking    everywhere    comfort    for    his    ignorance,   he    hopes  to 
advance    himself   toward    glory,    if  he  shall    see    many  like  himself,  see  them 
ignorant,  that  is  to  say.      For  he  has  this  special  tumour  of  arrogance,  that  he 
would  be  making  himself  the  equal  of  others,  exalting  his  own  good  qualities  (if 


174  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vi 

One  perceives  the  effect  of  classical  studies  ;  yet  the 
passage  is  good  twelfth-century  Latin,  quite  different  from 
the  compositions  of  the  Carolingian  epoch,  those,  for  example, 
from  the  pen  of  Alcuin,  who  had  studied  the  Classics  like 
John,  but  unlike  him  had  no  personal  style.  One  gains 
similar  impressions  from  the  diction  of  the  Polycraticus,  a 
lengthy,  discursive  work  in  which  John  surprises  us  with  hfs 
classical  equipment.  Although  containing  many  quoted 
passages,  it  is  not  made  of  extracts  strung  together  ;  but 
reflects  the  sentiments  or  tells  the  opinions  of  ancient 
philosophers  in  the  writer's  own  way.  The  following  shows 
John's  knowledge  of  early  Greek  philosophers,  and  is  a  fair 
example  of  his  ordinary  style  : 

"  Alterum  vero  philosophorum  genus  est,  quod  lonicum  dicitur 
et  a  Graecis  ulterioribus  traxit  originem.  Horum  princeps  fuit 
Thales  Milesius,  unus  illorum  septem,  qui  dicti  sunt  sapientes.  Iste 
cum  rerum  naturam  scrutatus,  inter  caeteros  emicuisset,  maxime 
admirabilis  exstitit,  quod  astrologiae  numeris  comprehensis,  soils  et 
lunae  defectus  praedicebat.  Huic  successit  Anaximander  ejus 
auditor,  qui  Anaximenem  discipulum  reliquit  et  successorem. 
Diogenes  quoque  ejusdem  auditor  exstitit,  et  Anaxagoras,  qui 
omnium  rerum  quas  videmus,  effectorem  divinum  animum  docuit. 
Ei  successit  auditor  ejus  Archelaiis,  cujus  discipulus  Socrates  fuisse 
perhibetur,  magister  Platonis,  qui,  teste  Apuleio,  prius  Aristoteles 
dictus  est,  sed  deinde  a  latitudine  pectoris  Plato,  et  in  tantam 
eminentiam  philosophiae,  et  vigore  ingenii,  et  studii  exercitio,  et 
omnium  morum  venustate,  eloquii  quoque  suavitate  et  copia 
subvectus  est,  ut  quasi  in  throno  sapientiae  residens,  praecepta 
quadam  auctoritate  visus  est,  tarn  antecessoribus  quam  successoribus 

they  exist),  and  depreciating  those  of  others.     And  he  deems  his  neighbour's 
defect  to  be  his  own  advancement. 

"  Now  it  is  indubitable  to  all  truly  wise,  that  Nature,  kindest  parent  of  all, 
and  best-ordering  directress,  among  the  other  living  beings  which  she  brought 
forth,  distinguished  man  with  the  prerogative  of  reason  and  ennobled  him  with 
the  exercise  of  eloquence  (or  '  with  the  use  of  speech ')  :  executing  this  with 
unremitting  zeal  and  best-ordering  decree,  in  order  that  man  who  was  pressed 
and  dragged  to  the  lowest  by  the  heaviness  of  a  clodlike  nature  and  the  slowness 
of  corporeal  bulk,  borne  aloft  as  it  were  by  these  wings  might  ascend  to  the 
heights,  and  by  obtaining  the  crown  of  true  blessedness  excel  all  others  in  happy 
reward.  While  Grace  thus  fecundates  Nature,  Reason  watches  over  the  matters  to 
be  inspected  and  considered  ;  Nature's  bosom  gives  forth,  metes  out  the  fruits 
and  faculty  of  individuals  ;  and  the  inborn  love  of  good,  stimulating  itself  by  its 
natural  appetite,  follows  this  (i.e.  the  good)  either  solely  or  before  all  else,  since 
it  seems  best  adapted  to  the  bliss  descried"  (Metal,  i.  i  ;  Migne  199,  col.  825). 
These  translations  are  kept  close  to  the  original,  in  order  to  show  the  construction 
of  the  sentences. 


CHAP,  xxxi       MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  175 

philosophis,  imperare.  Et  primus  quidem  Socrates  universam 
philosophiam  ad  corrigendos  componendosque  mores  flexisse 
memoratur,  cum  ante  ilium  omnes  physicis,  id  est  rebus  naturalibus 
perscrutandis,  maximam  operam  dederint." * 

These  extracts  from  the  writings  of  saints  and  scholars 
may  be  supplemented  by  two  extracts  from  compositions  of 
another  class.  The  mediaeval  chronicle  has  not  a  good 
reputation.  Its  credulity  and  uncritical  spirit  varied  with 
the  time  and  man.  Little  can  be  said  in  favour  of  its 
general  form,  which  usually  is  stupidly  chronological,  or 
annalistic.  The  example  of  classical  historical  composition 
was  lost  on  mediaeval  annalists.  Yet  their  work  is  not  always 
dull ;  and,  by  the  twelfth  century,  their  diction  had  become 
as  mediaeval  as  that  of  the  theologian  rhetoricians,  although 
it  rarely  crystallizes  to  personal  style  by  reason  of  the 
insignificance  of  the  writers.  A  well-known  work  of  this 
kind  is  the  Gesta  Dei  per  Francos,  by  Guibert  of  Nogent, 
who  wrote  his  account  of  the  First  Crusade  a  few  years  after 
its  turmoil  had  passed  by.  The  following  passage  tells  of 
proceedings  upon  the  conclusion  of  Urban's  great  crusading 
oration  at  the  Council  of  Clermont  in  1099  : 

"Peroraverat  vir  excellentissimus,  et  omnes  qui  se  ituros  voverant, 
beati  Petri  potestate  absolvit,  eadem,  ipsa  apostolica  auctoritate 
firmavit,  et  signum  satis  conveniens  hujus  tarn  honestae  professionis 
instituit,  et  veluti  cingulum  militiae,  vel  potius  militaturis  Deo 
passionis  Dominicae  stigma  tradens,  crucis  figuram,  ex  cujuslibet 

1  "  There  is  another  class  of  philosophers  called  the  Ionic,  and  it  took  its 
origin  from  the  more  remote  Greeks.  The  chief  of  these  was  Thales  the 
Milesian,  one  of  those  seven  who  were  called  'wise.'  He,  when  he  had 
searched  out  the  nature  of  things,  shone  among  his  fellows,  and  especially  stood 
forth  as  admirable  because,  comprehending  the  laws  of  astrology,  he  predicted 
eclipses  of  the  sun  and  moon.  To  him  succeeded  his  hearer,  Anaximander,  who 
(in  turn)  left  Anaximenes  as  disciple  and  successor.  Diogenes,  likewise  his 
hearer,  arose  and  Anaxagoras  who  taught  that  the  divine  mind  was  the  author  of 
all  things  that  we  see.  To  him  succeeded  his  pupil  Archelaus,  whose  disciple  is 
said  to  have  been  Socrates,  the  master  of  Plato,  who,  according  to  Apuleius,  was 
first  called  Aristotle,  but  then  Plato  from  his  breadth  of  chest,  and  was  borne 
aloft  to  such  height  of  philosophy,  by  vigour  of  genius,  by  assiduity  of  study,  by 
graciousness  in  all  his  ways,  and  by  sweetness  and  force  of  eloquence,  that,  as  if 
seated  on  the  throne  of  wisdom,  he  has  seemed  to  command  by  a  certain 
ordained  authority  the  philosophers  before  and  after  him.  And  indeed  Socrates 
is  said  to  have  been  the  first  to  have  turned  universal  philosophy  to  the 
improvement  and  ordering  of  manners ;  since  before  him  all  had  devoted 
themselves  chiefly  to  physics,  that  is  to  examining  the  things  of  nature" 
(Polycraticus,  vii.  5  ;  Migne  199,  col.  643). 


176  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

materiae  panni,  tunicis,  byrris  et  palliis  iturorum,  assui  mandavit. 
Quod  si  quis,  post  hujus  signi  acceptionem,  aut  post  evidentis  voti 
pollicitationetn  ab  ista  benevolentia,  prava  poenitudine,  aut  ali- 
quorum  suorum  affectione  resileret,  ut  exlex  perpetuo  haberetur 
omnino  praecepit,  nisi  resipisceret ;  idemque  quod  omiserat  foede 
repeteret.  Praeterea  omnes  illos  atroci  damnavit  anathemate,  qui 
eorum  uxoribus,  filiis,  aut  possessionibus,  qui  hoc  Dei  iter 
aggrederentur,  per  integrum  triennii  tempus,  molestiam  auderent 
inferre.  Ad  extremum,  cuidam  viro  omnimodis  laudibus  efferendo, 
Podiensis  urbis  episcopo,  cujus  nomen  doleo  quia  neque  usquam 
reperi,  nee  audivi,  curam  super  eadem  expeditione  regenda 
contulit,  et  vices  suas  ipsi,  super  Christiani  populi  quocunque 
venirent  institutione,  commisit.  Unde  et  manus  ei,  more 
apostolorum,  data  pariter  benedictione,  imposuit.  Quod  ille  quam 
sagaciter  sit  exsecutus,  docet  mirabilis  opens  tanti  exitus."1 

This  Frenchman  Guibert  is  almost  vivacious.  A  certain 
younger  contemporary  of  his,  of  English  birth,  could  con- 
struct his  narrative  quite  as  well.  Ordericus  Vitalis 
(d.  1 142)  is  said  to  have  been  born  at  Wroxeter,  though 
he  spent  most  of  his  life  as  monk  of  St.  Evroult  in 
Normandy.  There  he  wrote  his  Historia  Ecclesiastica  of 
Normandy  and  England.  His  account  of  the  loss  of  the 
White  Ship  in  1 120  tells  the  story  : 

"Thomas,  filius  Stephani,  regem  adiit,  eique  marcum  auri 
offerens,  ait :  '  Stephanus,  Airardi  filius,  genitor  meus  fuit,  et  ipse 

1  "The  most  excellent  man  concluded  his  oration,  and  by  the  power  of  the 
blessed  Peter  absolved  all  who  had  taken  the  vow  to  go,  and  by  the  same 
apostolic  authority  confirmed  it ;  and  he  instituted  a  suitable  sign  of  this  so 
honourable  vow ;  and  as  a  badge  of  soldiering  (or  knighthood),  or  rather,  of 
being  about  to  soldier,  for  God,  he  took  the  mark  of  the  Lord's  Passion,  the 
figure  of  a  cross,  made  from  material  of  any  kind  of  cloth,  and  ordered  it  to  be 
sewed  upon  the  tunics  and  cloaks  of  those  about  to  go.  But  if  any  one,  after 
receiving  this  sign,  or  after  making  open  promise,  should  draw  back  from  that 
good  intent,  by  base  repenting  or  through  affection  for  his  kin,  he  ordained  that 
he  should  be  held  an  outlaw  utterly  and  perpetually,  unless  he  turn  and  set 
himself  again  to  the  neglected  performance  of  his  pledge. 

"  Furthermore,  with  terrible  anathema  he  damned  all  who  within  the  term  of 
three  years  should  dare  to  do  ill  to  the  wives,  children,  or  property  of  those 
setting  forth  on  this  journey  of  God.  And  finally  he  committed  to  a  certain  and 
praiseworthy  man  (a  bishop  of  some  city  on  the  Po,  whose  name  I  am  sorry 
never  to  have  found  or  heard)  the  care  and  regulation  of  the  expedition,  and 
conferred  his  own  authority  upon  him  over  the  tribute  (?)  of  Christian  people 
wherever  they  should  come.  Whereupon  giving  his  benediction,  in  the 
apostolic  manner,  he  placed  his  hands  upon  him.  How  sagaciously  that  one 
executed  the  behest,  is  shown  by  the  marvellous  outcome  of  so  great  an 
undertaking "  (Guibert  of  Nogent,  Gesta  Dei  per  Francos,  ii.  2  ;  Migne  1 56, 
coL  702). 


CHAP,  xxxi       MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  177 

in  omni  vita  sua  patri  tuo  in  mari  servivit.  Nam  ilium,  in  sua 
puppe  vectum,  in  Angliam  conduxit,  quando  contra  Haraldum 
pugnaturus,  in  Angliam  perrexit.  Hujusmodi  autem  officio  usque 
ad  mortem  famulando  ei  placuit,  et  ab  eo  multis  honoratus 
exeniis,  inter  contribules  suos  magnifice  floruit.  Hoc  feudum, 
domine  rex,  a  te  require,  et  vas  quod  Candida-Navis  appellatur, 
merito  ad  regalem  famulatum  optime  instructum  habeo.'  Cui  rex 
ait :  '  Gratum  habeo  quod  petis.  Mihi  quidem  aptam  navim 
elegi,  quam  non  mutabo ;  sed  filios  meos,  Guillelmum  et  Richardum, 
quos  sicut  me  diligo,  cum  multa  regni  mei  nobilitate,  nunc  tibi 
commendo.' 

"  His  auditis,  nautae  gavisi  sunt,  filioque  regis  adulantes,  vinum 
ab  eo  ad  bibendum  postulaverunt.  At  ille  tres  vini  modios  ipsis 
dari  praecepit.  Quibus  acceptis,  biberunt,  sociisque  abundanter 
propinaverunt,  nimiumque  potantes  inebriati  sunt.  Jussu  regis 
multi  barones  cum  filiis  suis  puppim  ascenderunt,  et  fere  trecenti, 
ut  opinor,  in  infausta  nave  fuerunt.  Duo  siquidem  monachi 
Tironis,  et  Stephanus  comes  cum  duobus  militibus,  Guillelmus 
quoque  de  Rolmara,  et  Rabellus  Camerarius,  Eduardus  de 
Salesburia,  et  alii  plures  inde  exierunt,  quia  nimiam  multitudinem 
lascivae  et  pompaticae  juventutis  inesse  conspicati  sunt.  Periti 
enim  remiges  quinquaginta  ibi  erant,  et  feroces  epibatae,  qui  jam 
in  navi  sedes  nacti  turgebant,  et  suimet  prae  ebrietate  immemores, 
vix  aliquem  reverenter  agnoscebant.  Heu  !  quamplures  illorum 
mentes  pia  devotione  erga  Deum  habebant  vacuas 

'  Qui  maris  immodicas  moderatur  et  aeris  iras.' 

Unde  sacerdotes,  qui  ad  benedicendos  illos  illuc  accesserant,  alios- 
que  ministros  qui  aquam  benedictam  deferebant,  cum  dedecore  et 
cachinnis  subsannantes  abigerunt;  sed  paulo  post  derisionis  suae 
ultionem  receperunt. 

"  Soli  homines,  cum  thesauro  regis  et  vasis  merum  ferentibus, 
Thomae  carinam  implebant,  ipsumque  ut  regiam  classem,  quae 
jam  aequora  sulcabat,  summopere  prosequeretur,  commonebant. 
Ipse  vero,  quia  ebrietate  desipiebat,  in  virtute  sua,  satellitumque 
suorum  confidebat,  et  audacter,  quia  omnes  qui  jam  praecesserant 
praeiret,  spondebat.  Tandem  navigandi  signum  dedit.  Porro 
schippae  remos  baud  segniter  arripuerunt,  et  alia  laeti,  quia  quid 
eis  ante  oculos  penderet  nesciebant,  armamenta  coaptaverunt, 
navemque  cum  impetu  magno  per  pontum  currere  fecerunt. 
Cumque  remiges  ebrii  totis  navigarent  conatibus,  et  infelix 
gubernio  male  intenderet  cursui  dirigendo  per  pelagus,  ingenti 
saxo  quod  quotidie  fluctu  recedente  detegitur  et  rursus  accessu 
maris  cooperitur,  sinistrum  latus  Candidae-Navis  vehementer  illisum 
est,  confractisque  duabus  tabulis,  ex  insperato,  navis,  proh  dolor ! 
subversa  est.  Omnes  igitur  in  tan  to  discrimine  simul  exclamaverunt ; 

VOL.  II  N 


i;8  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

sed  aqua  mox  implente  ora,  pariter  perierunt.  Duo  soli  virgae 
qua  velum  pendebat  manus  injecerunt,  et  magna  noctis  parte 
pendentes,  auxilium  quodlibet  praestolati  sunt.  Unus  erat  Rotho- 
magensis  carnifex,  nomine  Beroldus,  et  alter  generosus  puer, 
nomine  Goisfredus,  Gisleberti  de  Aquila  filius. 

"Tune  luna  in  signo  Tauri  nona  decima  fuit,  et  fere  ix  horis 
radiis  suis  mundum  illustravit,  et  navigantibus  mare  lucidum 
reddidit.  Thomas  nauclerus  post  primam  submersionem  vires 
resumpsit,  suique  memor,  super  undas  caput  extulit,  et  videns 
capita  eorum  qui  ligno  utcunque  inhaerebant,  interrogavit :  '  Filius 
regis  quid  devenit?'  Cumque  naufragi  respondissent  ilium  cum 
omnibus  collegis  suis  deperisse:  'Miserum,'  inquit,  'est  amodo 
meum  vivere.'  Hoc  dicto,  male  desperans,  maluit  illic  occumbere, 
quam  furore  irati  regis  pro  pernicie  prolis  oppetere,  seu  longas  in 
vinculis  poenas  lucre  "  l 

1  Hist,  ecclesiastica,  pars  iii.  lib.  xii.  cap.  14  (Migne  188,  col.  889-892). 
"  Thomas,  son  of  Stephen,  approached  the  king,  and  offering  him  a  mark  of 
gold,  said  :  '  Stephen,  son  of  Airard,  was  my  sire,  and  all  his  life  he  served  thy 
father  (William  the  Conqueror)  on  the  sea.  For  him,  borne  on  his  ship,  he 
conveyed  to  England,  when  he  proceeded  to  England  in  order  to  make  war  on 
Harold.  In  this  manner  of  service  serving  him  until  death  he  gave  him  satis- 
faction, and  honoured  with  many  rewards  from  him,  he  nourished  grandly  among 
his  people.  This  privilege,  lord  king,  I  claim  of  thee,  and  the  vessel  which  is 
called  White  Ship  I  have  ready,  fitted  out  in  the  best  manner  for  royal  needs.' 
To  whom  the  king  said  :  '  I  grant  your  petition.  For  myself  indeed  I  have 
selected  a  proper  ship,  which  I  shall  not  change ;  but  my  sons,  William  and 
Richard,  whom  I  cherish  as  myself,  with  much  nobility  of  my  realm,  I  commend 
now  to  thee.' 

"  Hearing  these  words  the  sailors  were  merry,  and  bowing  down  before  the 
king's  son,  asked  of  him  wine  to  drink.  He  ordered  three  measures  of  wine  to 
be  given  them.  Receiving  these  they  drank  and  pledged  their  comrades'  health 
abundantly,  and  with  deep  potations  became  drunk.  At  the  king's  order  many 
barons  with  their  sons  went  aboard  the  ship,  and  there  were  about  three  hundred,  as 
I  opine,  in  that  fatal  bark.  Then  two  monks  of  Tiron,  and  Count  Stephen  with 
two  knights,  also  William  of  Rolmar,  and  Rabellus  the  chamberlain,  and  Edward 
of  Salisbury,  and  a  number  of  others,  went  out  from  it,  because  they  saw  such 
a  crowd  of  wanton  showy  youth  aboard.  And  fifty  tried  rowers  were  there  and 
insolent  marines,  who  having  seized  seats  in  the  ship  were  brazening  it,  forgetting 
themselves  through  drunkenness,  and  showed  respect  for  scarcely  any  one.  Alas  ! 
how  many  of  them  had  minds  void  of  pious  devotion  toward  God  ! — '  Who 
tempers  the  exceeding  rages  of  the  sea  and  air. '  And  so  the  priests,  who  had 
gone  up  there  to  bless  them,  and  the  other  ministrants  who  bore  the  holy  water, 
they  drove  away  with  derision  and  loud  guffaws ;  but  soon  after  they  paid  the 
penalty  of  their  mocking. 

"  Only  men,  with  the  king's  treasure  and  the  vessels  holding  the  wine,  filled 
the  keel  of  Thomas ;  and  they  pressed  him  eagerly  to  follow  the  royal  fleet 
which  was  already  cutting  the  waves.  And  he  himself,  because  he  was  silly  from 
drink,  trusted  in  his  skill  and  that  of  his  satellites,  and  rashly  promised  to 
outstrip  all  who  were  now  ahead  of  him.  Then  he  gave  the  word  to  put  to  sea. 
At  once  the  sailors  snatched  their  oars,  and  glad  for  another  reason  because  they 
did  not  know  what  hung  before  their  eyes,  they  adjusted  their  tackle,  and  made 
the  ship  start  over  the  sea  with  a  great  bound.  Now  while  the  drunken  rowers 


CHAP,  xxxi       MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  i?g 

Our  examples  thus  far  belong  to  the  twelfth  century. 
As  touching  its  successor,  it  will  be  interesting  to  observe 
the  qualities  of  two  opposite  kinds  of  writing,  the  one  spring- 
ing from  the  intellectual  activities,  and  the  other  from  the 
religious  awakening,  of  the  time.  In  the  thirteenth  century, 
scientific  and  scholastic  writing  was  of  representative  import- 
ance, and  deeply  affected  the  development  of  Latin  prose. 
Very  different  in  style  were  the  Latin  stories  and  vitae  of 
the  blessed  Francis  of  Assist  and  other  saints,  composed 
in  Italy. 

Roger  Bacon,  of  whom  there  will  be  much  to  say,  com- 
posed most  of  his  extant  works  about  the  year  I26/.1  His 
language  is  often  rough  and  involved,  from  his  impetuosity 
and  eagerness  to  utter  what  was  in  him.  But  it  is  always 
vigorous.  He  took  pains  to  say  just  what  he  meant,  and 
what  was  worth  saying  ;  and  frequently  rewrote  his  sentences. 
His  writings  show  little  rhetoric  ;  yet  they  are  stamped  with 
a  Baconian  style,  which  has  a  cumulative  force.  The  word- 
order  is  modern  with  scarcely  a  trace  of  the  antique.  Per- 
haps we  may  say  that  he  wrote  Latin  like  an  Englishman 
of  vehement  temper  and  great  intellect.  He  is  powerful  in 
continuous  exposition ;  yet  instances  of  his  general,  and 
very  striking  statements,  will  illustrate  his  diction  at  its  best. 
In  the  following  sentence  he  recognizes  the  progressiveness 
of  knowledge,  a  rare  idea  in  the  Middle  Ages  : 

were  putting  forth  all  their  strength,  and  the  wretched  pilot  was  paying  slack 
attention  to  steering  his  course  over  the  gulf,  upon  a  great  rock  which  daily  is 
uncovered  by  the  ebbing  wave  and  again  is  covered  when  the  sea  is  at  flood, 
the  left  side  of  White  Ship  struck  violently,  and  with  two  timbers  smashed,  all 
unexpectedly  the  ship,  alas  !  was  capsized.  All  cried  out  together  in  such  a 
catastrophe ;  but  the  water  quickly  filling  their  mouths,  they  perished  alike. 
Two  only  cast  their  hands  upon  the  boom  from  which  hung  the  sail,  and  clinging 
to  it  a  great  part  of  the  night,  waited  for  some  aid.  One  was  a  butcher  of 
Rouen  named  Berold,  and  the  other  a  well-born  lad  named  Geoffrey,  son  of 
Gislebert  of  Aquila. 

"  The  moon  was  then  at  its  nineteenth  in  the  sign  of  the  Bull,  and  lighted 
the  earth  for  nearly  nine  hours  with  its  beams,  making  the  sea  bright  for  navigators. 
Captain  Thomas  after  his  first  submersion  regained  his  strength,  and  bethinking 
himself,  pushed  his  head  above  the  waves,  and  seeing  the  heads  of  those  clinging 
to  some  piece  of  wood,  asked,  '  What  has  become  of  the  king's  son  ? '  When  the 
shipwrecked  answered  that  he  had  perished  with  all  his  companions,  '  Miserable,' 
said  he,  'is  my  life  henceforth.'  Saying  this,  and  evilly  despairing,  he  chose  to 
sink  there,  rather  than  meet  the  fury  of  the  king  enraged  for  the  destruction  of 
his  child,  or  undergo  long  punishment  in  chains." 

1  Post,  Chapter  XLI. 


i8o  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

"Nam  semper  posteriores  addiderunt  ad  opera  priorum,  et 
multa  correxerunt,  et  plura  mutaverunt,  sicut  maxime  per  Aristotelem 
patet,  qui  omnes  sententias  praecedentium  discussit"1 

Again,  he  animadverts  upon  the  duty  of  thirteenth- 
century  Christians  to  supply  the  defects  of  the  old 
philosophers : 

"Quapropter  antiquorum  defectus  deberemus  nos  posteriores 
supplere,  quia  introivimus  in  labores  eorum,  per  quos,  nisi  simus 
asini,  possumus  ad  meliora  excitari ;  quia  miserrimum  est  semper 
uti  inventis  et  nunquam  inveniendis."  2 

Speaking  of  language,  he  says  : 

"  Impossibile  est  quod  proprietas  unius  linguae  servetur  in  alia."  3 
("The  idioms  of  one  language  cannot  be  preserved  in  a  transla- 
tion.") And  again  :  "  Omnes  philosophi  fuerunt  post  patriarchas  et 
prophetas  .  .  .  et  legerunt  libros  prophetarum  et  patriarcharum 
qui  sunt  in  sacro  textu."4  ("The  philosophers  of  Greece  came 
after  the  prophets  of  the  Old  Testament  and  read  their  works 
contained  in  the  sacred  text.") 

In  the  first  of  these  sentences  Bacon  shows  his  linguistic 
insight ;  in  the  second  he  reflects  an  uncritical  view  enter- 
tained since  the  time  of  the  Church  Fathers  ;  in  both,  he 
writes  with  an  order  of  words  requiring  no  change  in  an 
English  translation. 

In  his  time,  Bacon  had  but  a  sorry  fame,  and  his  works 
no  influence.  The  writings  of  his  younger  contemporary 
Thomas  Aquinas  exerted  greater  influence  than  those  of  any 
man  after  Augustine.  They  represent  the  culmination  of 
scholasticism.  He  was  Italian  born,  and  his  language, 
however  difficult  the  matter,  is  lucidity  itself.  It  is  never 
rhetorical ;  but  measured,  temperate,  and  balanced  ;  properly 
proceeding  from  the  mind  which  weighed  every  proposition 
in  the  scales  of  universal  consideration.  Sometimes  it  gains 
a  certain  fervour  from  the  clarity  and  import  of  the  state- 
ment which  it  so  lucidly  conveys.  In  article  eighth,  of  the 
first  Questio,  of  Pars  Prima  of  the  Summa  theologiae> 
Thomas  thus  decides  that  Theology  is  a  rational  (argumen- 
tative?) science : 

"  Respondeo  dicendum  quod,  sicut  aliae  scientiae  non  argu- 

1   Opus  majus,  pars  i.  cap.  6.  2  Op.  ma/.  iL  cap.  14. 

3  Op.  maj.  iii.  I.  4  Op.  maj.  ii.  14. 


CHAP,  xxxi        MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  181 

mentantur  ad  sua  principia  probanda,  sed  ex  principiis  argumen- 
tantur  ad  ostendendum  alia  in  ipsis  scientiis ;  ita  haec  doctrina  non 
argumentatur  ad  sua  principia  probanda,  quae  sunt  articuli  fidei ; 
sed  ex  eis  procedit  ad  aliquid  aliud  ostendendum ;  sicut  Apostolus 
i  ad  Cor.  xv.,  ex  resurrectione  Christi  argumentatur  ad  resur- 
rectionem  communem  probandam. 

"  Sed  tamen  considerandum  est  in  scientiis  philosophicis,  quod 
inferiores  scientiae  nee  probant  sua  principia,  nee  contra  negantem 
principia  disputant,  sed  hoc  relinquunt  superiori  scientiae :  suprema 
vero  inter  eas,  scilicet  metaphysica,  disputat  contra  negantem  sua 
principia,  si  adversarius  aliquid  concedit :  si  autem  nihil  concedit, 
non  potest  cum  eo  disputare,  potest  tamen  solvere  rationes  ipsius. 
Unde  sacra  scriptura  (i.e.  Theology),  cum  non  habeat  superiorem, 
disputat  cum  negante  sua  principia :  argumentando  quidem,  si 
adversarius  aliquid  concedat  eorum  quae  per  divinam  revelationem 
habentur ;  sicut  per  auctoritates  sacrae  doctrinae  disputamus  contra 
hereticos,  et  per  unum  articulum  contra  negantes  alium.  Si  vero 
adversarius  nihil  credat  eorum  quae  divinitus  revelantur,  non 
remanet  amplius  via  ad  probandum  articulos  fidei  per  rationes, 
sed  ad  solvendum  rationes,  si  quas  inducit,  contra  fidem.  Cum 
enim  fides  infallibili  veritati  innitatur,  impossibile  autem  sit  de 
vero  demonstrari  contrarium,  manifestum  est  probationes  quae 
contra  fidem  inducuntur,  non  esse  demonstrationes,  sed  solubilia 
argumenta."1 

Of  a  different  intellectual  temperament  was  John  of 
Fidanza,  known  as  St.  Bonaventura.2  He  also  was  born  and 
passed  his  youth  in  Italy.  This  sainted  General  of  the 
Franciscan  Order  was  a  few  years  older  than  the  great 
Dominican,  who  was  his  friend.  Both  doctors  died  in  the 
year  1274.  Bona Ventura's  powers  of  constructive  reasoning 
were  excellent.  His  diction  is  clear  and  beautiful,  and  elo- 
quent with  a  spiritual  fervour  whenever  the  matter  is  such  as 
to  evoke  it.  His  account  of  how  he  came  to  write  his  famous 
little  Itinerarium  mentis  in  Deum  is  full  of  temperament. 

"Cum  igitur  exemplo  beatissimi  patris  Francisci  hanc  pacem 
anhelo  spiritu  quaererem,  ego  peccator,  qui  loco  ipsius  patris 
beatissimi  post  eius  transitum  septimus  in  generali  fratrum  ministerio 
per  omnia  indignus  succedo ;  contigit,  ut  nutu  divino  circa  Beati 
ipsius  transitum,  anno  trigesimo  tertio  ad  montem  Alvernae 
tanquam  ad  locum  quietum  amore  quaerendi  pacem  spiritus 
declinarem,  ibique  existens,  dum  mente  tractarem  aliquas  mentales 

1  For  translation  see  post,  Chapter  XXXIV. 
3  Post,  Chapter  XXXVIII. 


1 82  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

ascensiones  in  Deum,  inter  alia  occurrit  illud  miraculum,  quod  in 
praedicto  loco  contigit  ipsi  beato  Francisco,  de  visione  scilicet 
Seraph  alati  ad  instar  Crucifixi.  In  cuius  consideratione  statim 
visum  est  mihi,  quod  visio  ilia  praetenderet  ipsius  patris  suspensionem 
in  contemplando  et  viam,  per  quam  pervenitur  ad  earn."1 

And  Bonaventura  at  the  end  of  his  Itinerarium  speaks 
of  the  perfect  passing  of  Francis  into  God  through  the  very 
mystic  climax  of  contemplation,  concluding  thus  : 

"  Si  autem  quaeras,  quomodo  haec  fiant,  interroga  gratiam,  non 
doctrinam ;  desiderium,  non  intellectum ;  gemitum  orationis,  non 
studium  lectionis ;  sponsum,  non  magistrum ;  Deum,  non  hominem ; 
caliginem,  non  claritatem ;  non  lucem,  sed  ignem  totaliter  inflam- 
mantem  et  in  Deum  excessivis  unctionibus  et  ardentissimis 
affectionibus  transferentem." z 

Bonaventura's  fervent  diction  will  serve  to  carry  us  over 
from  the  more  unmitigated  intellectuality  of  Bacon  and 
Thomas  to  the  simpler  matter  of  those  personal  and  pious 
narratives  from  which  may  be  drawn  concluding  illustrations 
of  mediaeval  Latin  prose.  Some  of  the  authors  will  show 
the  skill  which  comes  from  training ;  others  are  quite 
innocent  of  grammar,  and  their  Latin  has  made  a  happy 
surrender  to  the  genius  of  their  vernacular  speech,  which 
was  the  lingua  vulgaris  of  northern  Italy. 

One  of  the  earliest  biographers  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi 
was  Thomas  of  Celano,  a  skilled  Latinist,  who  was  enraptured 
with  the  loveliness  of  Francis's  life.  His  diction  is  limpid 
and  rhythmical.  A  well-known  passage  in  his  Vita  prima 
(for  he  wrote  two  Lives)  tells  of  Francis's  joyous  assurance  of 
the  great  work  which  God  would  accomplish  through  the 
simple  band  who  formed  the  beginnings  of  the  Order.  This 
assurance  crystallized  in  a  vision  of  multitudes  hurrying  to 
join.  Francis  speaks  to  the  brethren  : 

"  Confortamini,  charissimi,  et  gaudete  in  Domino,  nee,  quia 
pauci  videmini,  efficiamini  tristes.  Ne  vos  deterreat  mea,  vel  vestra 
simplicitas,  quoniam  sicut  mihi  a  Domino  in  veritate  ostensum  est, 
in  maximam  multitudinem  faciet  vos  crescere  Deus,  et  usque  ad 
fines  orbis  multipliciter  dilatabit.  Vidi  multitudinem  magnam 
hominum  ad  nos  venientium,  et  in  habitu  sanctae  conversationis 
beataeque  religionis  regula  nobiscum  volentium  conversari ;  et  ecce 

1  Itiiierarium  mentis  in  Deum,  Prologus,  2. 
2  Ibid.  cap.  vii.  6.     For  translations  see  post,  Chapter  XXXVIII. 


CHAP,  xxxi       MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   PROSE  183 

adhuc  sonitus  eorum  est  in  auribus  meis,  euntium,  et  redeuntium 
secundum  obedientiae  sanctae  mandatum :  vidique  vias  ipsorum 
multitudine  plenas  ex  omni  fere  natione  in  his  partibus  convenire. 
Veniunt  Francigenae,  festinant  Hispani,  Teuthonici,  et  Anglici 
currunt,  et  aliarum  diversarum  linguarum  accelerat  maxima 
multitude. 

"Quod  cum  audissent  fratres,  repleti  sunt  gaudio  Salvatoris 
sive  propter  gratiam,  quam  dominus  Deus  contulerat  sancto  suo, 
sive  quia  proximorum  lucrum  sitiebant  ardenter,  quos  desiderabant 
ut  salvi  essent,  in  idipsum  quotidie  augmentari." l 

We  feel  the  flow  and  rhythm,  and  note  the  agreeable 
balancing  of  clauses.  Francis  died  in  1226.  The  Vita 
prima  by  Celano  was  approved  by  Gregory  IX.  in  1229. 
Already  other  matter  touching  the  saint  was  gathering  in 
anecdote  and  narrative.  Much  of  it  was  brought  together 
in  the  so-called  Speculum  perfectionis,  which  has  been  con- 
fidently but  very  questionably  ascribed  to  Francis's  personal 
disciple,  Brother  Leo.  Brother  Leo,  or  whoever  may  have  been 
the  narrator  or  compiler,  was  no  scholar  ;  his  Latin  is  naively 
incorrect,  and  has  also  the  simplicity  of  Gospel  narrative. 
Indeed  this  Latin  is  as  effectively  "  vulgarized  "  as  the  Greek 
of  Matthew's  Gospel.  An  interesting  passage  tells  with 
what  loving  wisdom  Francis  interpreted  a  text  of  Scripture : 

"  Manente  ipso  apud  Senas  venit  ad  eum  quidam  doctor  sacrae 
theologiae  de  ordine  Praedicatorum,  vir  utique  humilis  et  spiritualis 
valde.  Quum  ipse  cum  beato  Francisco  de  verbis  Domini  simul 
aliquamdiu  contulissent  interrogavit  eum  magister  de  illo  verbo 
Ezechielis :  Si  non  annuntiaveris  impio  impietatem  suam  animam 
ejus  de  manu  tua  requiram.  Dixit  enim  :  '  Multos,  bone  pater,  ego 
cognosco  in  peccato  mortali  quibus  non  annuntio  impietatem 
eorum,  numquid  de  manu  mea  ipsorum  animae  requirentur  ? ' 

"  Cui  beatus  Franciscus  humiliter  dixit  se  esse  idiotam  et  ideo 
magis  expedire  sibi  doceri  ab  eo  quam  super  scripturae  sententiam 
respondere.  Tune  ille  humilis  magister  adjecit :  '  Frater,  licet  ab 
aliquibus  sapientibus  hujus  verbi  expositionem  audiverim,  tamen 
Hbenter  super  hoc  vestrum  perciperem  intellectum.'  Dixit  ergo 
beatus  Franciscus :  '  Si  verbum  debeat  generaliter  intelligi,  ego 
taliter  accipio  ipsum  quod  servus  Dei  sic  debet  vita  et  sanctitate  in 
seipso  ardere  vel  fulgere  ut  luce  exempli  et  lingua  sanctae  con- 
versationis  omnes  impios  reprehendat.  Sic,  inquam,  splendor  ejus 
et  odor  famae  ipsius  annuntiabit  omnibus  iniquitates  eorum.' 

"  Plurimum  itaque  doctor  ille  aedificatus  recedens  dixit  sociis 

1    Vita pritna,  cap.  xi.      Translated  ante,  Vol.  I.,  p.  427,  note  I. 


1 84  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

beati  Francisci :  '  Fratres  mei,  theologia  hujus  viri  puritate  et 
contemplatione  subnixa  est  aquila  volans,  nostra  vero  scientia  ventre 
graditur  super  terram.'"1 

Another  passage  has  Francis  breaking  out  in  song  from 
the  joy  of  his  love  of  Christ : 

"  Ebrius  amore  et  compassione  Christi  beatus  Franciscus 
quandoque  talia  faciebat,  nam  dulcissima  melodia  spiritus  intra 
se  ipsum  ebulliens  frequenter  exterius  gallice  dabat  sonum  et  vena 
divini  susurrii  quam  auris  ejus  suscipiebat  furtive  gallicum  erumpebat 
in  jubilum. 

"Lignum  quandoque  colligebat  de  terra  ipsumque  sinistro 
brachio  superponens  aliud  lignum  per  modum  arcus  in  manu 
dextera  trahebat  super  illud,  quasi  super  viellam  vel  aliud  instru- 
mentum  atque  gestus  ad  hoc  idoneos  faciens  gallice  cantabat  de 
Domino  Jesu  Christo.  Terminabatur  denique  tota  haec  tripudiatio 
in  lacrymas  et  in  compassionem  passionis  Christi  hie  jubilus 
solvebatur. 

"In  his  trahebat  continue  suspiria  et  ingeminatis  gemitibus 
eorum  quae  tenebat  in  manibus  oblitus  suspendebatur  ad  caelum."5 

This  Latin  is  as  childlike  as  the  Old  Italian  of  the 
Fioretti  of  St.  Francis;  it  has  a  like  word -order,  and  one 
might  almost  add,  a  like  vocabulary.  The  simple,  ignorant 
writer  seems  as  if  held  by  a  direct  and  personal  inspiration 
from  the  familiar  life  of  the  sweet  saint.  His  language 
reflects  that  inspiration,  and  mirrors  his  own  childlike 
character.  Hence  he  has  a  style,  direct,  effective,  moving 
to  tears  and  joy,  like  his  impression  of  the  blessed  Francis. 

A  not  dissimilar  kind  of  childlike  Latin  could  attain  to 
a  remarkable  symmetry  and  balance.  The  Legenda  aurea 
is  before  us,  written  by  the  Dominican  Jacobus  a  Voragine, 
by  race  a  Genoese,  and  living  toward  the  close  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  This  book  was  the  most  popular 
compend  of  saints'  lives  in  use  in  the  later  Middle  Ages. 
Its  stories  are  told  with  fascinating  naivete.  We  cite  the 
opening  sentences  from  its  chapter  on  the  Annunciation, 
just  to  show  the  harmony  and  balance  of  its  periods.  The 
passage  is  exceptional  and  almost  formal  in  these  qualities  : 

"Annunciatio  dominica  dicitur,  quia  in  tali  die  ab  angelo 
adventus  filii  Dei  in  carnem  fuit  annuntiatus,  congruum  enim  fuit, 

1  Spec,  perfections,  ed.  Sabatier,  cap.  53.     Transkted  ante,  Vol.  I.,  p.  427. 
*  Ibid.  cap.  93.     Translated  ante,  VoL  I.,  p.  432. 


CHAP,  xxxi        MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  PROSE  185 

ut  incarnationem  praecederet  angelica  annuntiatio,  triplici  ratione. 
Primo  ratione  ordinis  connotandi,  ut  scilicet  ordo  reparations 
responderet  ordini  praevaricationis.  Unde  sicut  dyabolus  tentavit 
mulierem,  ut  earn  pertraheret  ad  dubitationem  et  per  dubitationem 
ad  consensum  et  per  consensum  ad  lapsum,  sic  angelus  nuntiavit 
virgini,  ut  nuntiando  excitaret  ad  fidem  et  per  fidem  ad  consensum 
et  per  consensum  ad  concipiendum  Dei  filium.  Secundo  ratione 
ministerii  angelici,  quia  enim  angelus  est  Dei  minister  et  servus  et 
beata  virgo  electa  erat,  ut  esset  Dei  mater,  et  congruum  est 
ministrum  dominae  famulari,  conveniens  fuit,  ut  beatae  virgini 
annuntiatio  per  angelum  fieret.  Tertio  ratione  lapsus  angelici 
reparandi.  Quia  enim  incarnatio  non  tantum  faciebat  ad  repara- 
tionem  humani  lapsus,  sed  etiam  ad  reparationem  ruinae  angelicae, 
ideo  angeli  non  debuerunt  excludi.  Unde  sicut  sexus  mulieris 
non  excluditur  a  cognitione  mysterii  incarnationis  et  resurrectionis, 
sic  etiam  nee  angelicus  nuntius.  Imo  Deus  utrumque  angelo 
mediante  nuntiat  mulieri,  scilicet  incarnationem  virgini  Mariae  et 
resurrectionem  Magdelenae."1 

These  extracts  bring  us  far  into  the  thirteenth  century. 
Two  hundred  years  later,  mediaeval  Latin  prose,  if  one 
may  say  so,  sang  its  swan  song  in  that  little  book  which 
is  a  last,  sweet,  and  composite  echo  of  all  mellifluous 
mediaeval  piety.  Yet  perhaps  this  De  imitatione  Christi  of 
Thomas  a  Kempis  can  scarcely  be  classed  as  prose,  so  full 
is  it  of  assonances  and  rhythms  fit  for  chanting. 

1  Cap.  li.,  ed.  Graesse. 

"Annunciation  Sunday  (Advent)  is  so  called,  because  on  that  day  by  an 
angel  the  advent  of  the  Son  of  God  in  the  flesh  was  announced,  for  it  was 
fitting  that  the  angelical  annunciation  should  precede  the  incarnation,  for 
a  threefold  reason.  For  the  first  reason,  of  betokening  the  order,  that  to 
wit  the  order  of  reparation  should  answer  to  the  order  of  transgression. 
Accordingly  as  the  devil  tempted  the  woman,  that  he  should  draw  her  to 
doubt  and  through  doubt  to  consent  and  through  consent  to  fall,  so  the 
angel  announced  to  the  Virgin,  that  by  announcing  he  should  arouse  her  to  faith 
and  through  faith  to  consent  and  through  consent  to  conceiving  God's  son.  For 
the  second  reason,  of  the  angelic  ministry,  because  since  the  angel  is  God's 
minister  and  servant,  and  the  blessed  Virgin  was  chosen  in  order  that  she  might 
be  God's  mother,  and  it  is  fitting  that  the  minister  should  serve  the  mistress,  so 
it  was  proper  that  the  annunciation  to  the  blessed  Virgin  should  take  place  through 
an  angel.  For  the  third  reason,  of  repairing  the  angelical  fall.  Because  since 
the  incarnation  was  made  not  only  for  the  reparation  of  the  human  fall,  but  also 
for  the  reparation  of  the  angelical  catastrophe,  therefore  the  angels  ought  not  to 
be  excluded.  Accordingly  as  the  sex  of  the  woman  does  not  exclude  her  from 
knowledge  of  the  mystery  of  the  incarnation  and  resurrection,  so  also  neither  the 
angelical  messenger.  Behold,  God  twice  announces  to  a  woman  by  a  mediating 
angel,  to  wit  the  incarnation  to  the  Virgin  Mary  and  the  resurrection  to  the  ,tf 
Magdalene."  The  order  of  the  Latin  words  is  scarcely  changed  in  the  trans- 
lation. 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

EVOLUTION    OF    MEDIAEVAL    LATIN    VERSE 

I.  METRICAL  VERSE. 
II.  SUBSTITUTION  OF  ACCENT  FOR  QUANTITY. 

III.  SEQUENCE-HYMN  AND  STUDENT-SONG. 

IV.  PASSAGE  OF  THEMES  INTO  THE  VERNACULAR. 

IN  mediaeval  Latin  poetry  the  endeavour  to  preserve  a 
classical  style  and  the  irresistible  tendency  to  evolve  new 
forms  are  more  palpably  distinguishable  than  in  the  prose. 
For  there  is  a  visible  parting  of  the  ways  between  the  reten- 
tion of  the  antique  metres  and  their  fruitful  abandonment 
in  verses  built  of  accentual  rhyme.  Moreover,  this  formal 
divergence  corresponds  to  a  substantial  difference,  inasmuch 
as  there  was  usually  a  larger  survival  of  antique  feeling  and 
allusion  in  the  mediaeval  metrical  attempts  than  in  the 
rhyming  poems. 

As  in  the  prose,  so  in  the  poetry,  the  lines  of  development 
may  be  followed  from  the  Carolingian  time.  But  a  difference 
will  be  found  between  Italy  and  the  North  ;  for  in  Italy  the 
course  was  quicker,  but  a  less  organic  evolution  resulted  in 
verse  less  excellent  and  less  distinctly  mediaeval.  By  the 
end  of  the  eleventh  century  Latin  poetry  in  Italy,  rhyming 
or  metrical,  seems  to  have  drawn  itself  along  as  far  as  it  was 
destined  to  progress ;  but  in  the  North  a  richer  growth 
culminates  a  century  later.  Indeed  the  most  originative  line 
of  evolution  of  mediaeval  Latin  verse  would  seem  to  have 
been  confined  to  the  North,  in  the  main  if  not  exclusively. 

The  following  pages  offer  no  history  of  mediaeval  Latin 
poetry,  even  as  the  previous  chapter  made  no  attempt  to 
sketch  the  history  of  the  prose.  Their  object  is  to  point 

1 86 


CHAP,  xxxii      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  187 

out  the  general  lines  along  which  the  verse -forms  were 
developed,  or  were  perhaps  retarded.  Three  may  be  dis- 
tinguished. The  first  is  marked  by  the  retention  of  quantity 
and  the  endeavour  to  preserve  the  ancient  measures.  In 
the  second,  accent  and  rhyme  gradually  take  the  place  of 
metre  within  the  old  verse-forms.  The  third  is  that  of  the 
Sequence,  wherein  the  accentual  rhyming  hymn  springs  from 
the  chanted  prose,  which  had  superseded  the  chanting  of  the 
final  a  of  the  Alleluia.1 


I 

The  lover  of  classical  Greek  and  Latin  poetry  knows  the 
beautiful  fitness  of  the  ancient  measures  for  the  thought  and 
feeling  which  they  enframed.  If  his  eyes  chance  to  fall  on 
some  twelfth-century  Latin  hymn,  he  will  be  struck  by  its 
different  quality.  He  will  quickly  perceive  that  classic  forms 
would  have  been  unsuited  to  the  Christian  and  romantic 
sentiment  of  the  mediaeval  period,2  and  will  realize  that 
some  vehicle  besides  metrical  verse  would  have  been  needed 
for  this  thoroughly  declassicized  feeling,  even  had  metrical 
quantity  remained  a  vital  element  of  language,  instead  of 
passing  away  some  centuries  before.  Metre  was  but  resus- 
citation and  convention  in  the  time  of  Charlemagne.  Yet  it 
kept  its  sway  with  scholars,  and  could  not  lack  votaries  so 
long  as  classical  poetry  made  part  of  the  Ars  grammatica 
or  was  read  for  delectation.  Metrical  composition  did  not 
cease  throughout  the  Middle  Ages.  But  it  was  not  the  true 
mediaeval  style,  and  became  obviously  academic  as  accentual 
verse  was  perfected  and  made  fit  to  carry  spiritual  emotion. 

1  In  order  that  no  reader  may  be  surprised  by  the  absence  of  discussion  of  the 
antique  antecedents  of  the  more  particular  genres  of  mediaeval  poetry  (Latin  and 
Vernacular),  I  would  emphasize  the  impossibility  of  entering  upon  such  exhaust- 
less  topics.      Probably  the  very  general  assumption  will  be  correct  in  most  cases, 
that  genres  of  mediaeval  poetry  (e.g.  the  Conflicts  or  Dtbats  in  Latin  and  Old 
French)  revert  to  antecedents  sufficiently  marked  for  identification,  in  the  antique 
Latin  (or  Greek)  poetry,  or  in  the  (extant  or  lost)  productions  of  the  "low" 
Latin  period  from  the  third  century  downward.     An  idea  of  the  difficulty  and 
range  of  such  matters  may  be  gained  from  Jeanroy,  Les  Origines  de  la  potsie 
lyrique  en  France  an  moyen  dge  (Paris,  1889),  and  the  admirable  review  of  this 
work  by  Gaston  Paris  in  the  Journal  des  savants  for  1891  and  1892  (four  articles). 
Cf.  also  Batiouchkof  in  Romania,  xx.  (1891),  pages  I  sqq.  and  513  sqq. 

2  Cf.  Taylor,  Classical  Heritage  of  the  Middle  Ages,  chap.  ix. 


1 88  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

Nevertheless  the  simpler  metres  were  cultivated  successfully 
by  the  best  scholars  of  the  twelfth  century. 

Most  of  the  Latin  poetry  of  the  Carolingian  period  was 
metrical,  if  we  are  to  judge  from  the  mass  that  remains. 
Reminiscence  of  the  antique  enveloped  educated  men,  with 
whom  the  mediaeval  spirit  had  not  reached  distinctness  of 
thought  and  feeling.  So  the  poetry  resembled  the  contem- 
porary sculpture  and  painting,  in  which  the  antique  was 
still  unsuperseded  by  any  new  style.  Following  the  antique 
metres,  using  antique  phrase  and  commonplace,  often  copy- 
ing antique  sentiment,  this  poetry  was  as  dull  as  might  be 
expected  from  men  who  were  amused  by  calling  each  other 
Homer,  Virgil,  Horace,  or  David.  Usually  the  poets  were 
ecclesiastics,  and  interested  in  theology  ; l  but  many  of  the 
pieces  are  conventionally  profane  in  topic,  and  as  humanistic 
as  the  Latin  poetry  of  Petrarch.2  Moreover,  just  as  Petrarch's 
Latin  poetry  was  still-born,  while  his  Italian  sonnets  live,  so 
the  Carolingian  poetry,  when  it  forgets  itself  and  falls  away 
from  metre  to  accentual  verse,  gains  some  degree  of  life.  At 
this  early  period  the  Romance  tongues  were  not  a  fit  poetic 
vehicle,  and  consequently  living  thoughts,  which  with  Dante 
and  Petrarch  found  voice  in  Italian,  in  the  ninth  century 
began  to  stammer  in  Latin  verses  that  were  freed  from  the 
dead  rules  of  quantity,  and  were  already  vibrant  with  a  vital 
feeling  for  accent  and  rhyme.3 

Through  the  tenth  century  metrical  composition  became 
rougher,  yet  sometimes  drew  a  certain  force  from  its  rudeness. 
A  good  example  is  the  famous  Waltarius,  or  Waltharilied,  of 
Ekkehart  of  St.  Gall,  composed  in  the  year  960  as  a  school 
exercise.4  The  theme  was  a  German  story  found  in  ver- 
nacular poetry.  Ekkehart's  hexameters  have  a  strong  Teuton 
flavour,  and  doubtless  some  of  the  vigour  of  his  paraphrase 
was  due  to  the  German  original. 

1  There  is  much  verse  from  noted  men,  Alcuin,  Paulus  Diaconus,  Walafrid 
Strabo,  Rabanus  Maurus,  Theodulphus.     It  is  all  to  be  found  in  the  collection  of 
Diimmler  and  Traube,  Poetae  Latini  aevi  Carolini  (Man.  Germ,  1880-1896). 

2  It  is  amusing  to  find  a  poem  by  Walafrid  Strabo  turning  up  as  a  favourite 
among    sixteenth -century   humanists.       The    poem   referred   to,    "  De   cultura 
hortorum  "  (Poet.  Lot.  aev.  Car.  ii.  335-350),  is  a  poetic  treatment  of  gardening, 
reminiscent  of  the  Georgics,  but  not  imitating  their  structure.      It  has  many  allu- 
sions to  pagan  mythology. 

3  Post,  p.  193  sqq.  *  Ante,  Vol.  I.,  p.  147. 


CHAP,  xxxn      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  189 

The  metrical  poems  of  the  eleventh  century  have  been 
spoken  of  already,  especially  the  more  interesting  ones 
written  in  Italy.1  Most  of  the  Latin  poetry  emanating  from 
that  classic  land  was  metrical,  or  so  intended.  Frequently 
it  tells  the  story  of  wars,  or  gives  the  Gesta  of  notable  lives, 
making  a  kind  of  versified  biography.  One  feels  as  if  verse 
was  employed  as  a  refuge  from  the  dead  annalistic  form. 
This  poetry  was  a  semi-barbarizing  of  the  antique,  without 
new  formal  or  substantial  elements.  Italy,  one  may  say, 
never  became  essentially  and  creatively  mediaeval :  the  pres- 
sure of  antique  survival  seems  to  have  barred  original 
development ;  Italians  took  little  part  in  the  great  mediaeval 
military  religious  movements,  the  Crusades ;  no  strikingly 
new  architecture  arose  with  them ;  their  first  vernacular 
poetry  was  an  imitation  or  a  borrowing  from  Provence  and 
France  ;  and  by  far  the  greater  part  of  their  Latin  poetry 
presents  an  uncreative  barbarizing  of  the  antique  metres. 

These  remarks  find  illustration  in  the  principal  Latin 
poems  composed  in  Italy  in  the  twelfth  century.  Among 
them  one  observes  differences  in  skill,  knowledge,  and 
tendency.  Some  of  the  writers  made  use  of  leonine 
hexameters,  others  avoided  the  rhyme.  But  they  were  all 
akin  in  lack  of  excellence  and  originality  both  in  composition 
and  verse-form.  There  was  the  monk  Donizo  of  Canossa, 
who  wrote  the  Vita  of  the  great  Countess  Matilda  ; 2  there 
was  William  of  Apulia,  Norman  in  spirit  if  not  in  blood, 
who  wrote  of  the  Norman  conquests  in  Apulia  and  Sicily ; 8 
also  the  anonymous  and  barbarous  De  bello  et  excidio  urbis 

1  Ante,  Chapter  XL,  in. 

2  The  following  leonine  hexameters  are  attributed  to  Donizo  : 

4 '  Chrysopolis  dudum  Graecorum  dicitur  usu, 
Aurea  sub  lingua  sonat  haec  Urbs  esse  Latina, 
Scilicet  Urbs  Parma,  quia  grammatica  manet  alta, 
Artes  ac  septem  studiose  sunt  ibi  lectae. ' ' 

Muratori,  Antiquitatcs>  iii.  p.  912. 

3  William  was  a  few  years  older  than  Donizo,  and  died  about  the  yearki  100. 
His  hero  is  Robert  Guiscard,  and  his  poem  closes  with  this  bid  for  the  favour  of 
his  son,  Roger  : 

"  Nostra,  Rogere,  tibi  cognoscis  carmina  scribi, 
Mente  tibi  laeta  studuit  parere  Poeta  : 
Semper  et  auctores  hilares  meruere  datores  ; 
Tu  duce  Romano  Dux  dignior  Octaviano, 
Sis  mini,  quaeso,  boni  spes,  ut  fuit  ille  Maroni." 

Muratori,  Scriptorcs,  v.  247-248. 


I9o  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

Comensis,  in  which  is  told  the  destruction  of  Como  by  Milan 
between  1118  and  II27;1  then  the  metrically  jingling 
Pisan  chronicle  narrating  the  conquest  of  the  island  of 
Majorca,  and  beginning  (like  the  Aeneid\)  with 

"  Arma,  rates,  populum  vindictam  coelitus  octam 
Scribimus,  ac  duros  terrae  pelagique  labores."  2 

We  also  note  Peter  of  Ebulo,  with  his  narrative  in 
laudation  of  the  emperor  Henry  VI.,  written  about  1 1 94  ; 
Henry  of  Septimella  and  his  elegies  upon  the  checkered 
fortunes  of  divers  great  men  ; 3  and  lastly  the  more  famous 
Godfrey  of  Viterbo,  of  probable  German  blood,  and  notary 
or  scribe  to  three  successive  emperors,  with  his  cantafable 
Pantheon  or  Memoria  saecularum?  Godfrey's  poetry  is 
rhymed  after  a  manner  of  his  own. 

In  the  North,  or  more  specifically  speaking  in  the  land 
of  France  north  of  the  Loire,  the  twelfth  century  brought 
better  metrical  poetry  than  in  Italy.  Yet  it  had  something 
of  the  deadness  of  imitation,  since  the  vis  vivida  of  song  had 
passed  over  into  rhyming  verse.  Still  from  the  academic 
point  of  view,  metre  was  the  proper  vehicle  of  poetry  ;  as 
one  sees,  for  instance,  in  the  Ars  versificatoria  of  Matthew 
of  Vendome,5  written  toward  the  close  of  the  twelfth  century. 
"  Versus  est  metrica  descriptio,"  says  he,  and  then  elaborates 
his,  for  the  most  part  borrowed,  definition  :  "  Verse  is  metrical 
description  proceeding  concisely  and  line  by  line  through 
the  comely  marriage  of  words  to  flowers  of  thought,  and 
containing  nothing  trivial  or  irrelevant."  A  neat  conception 
this  of  poetry ;  and  the  same  writer  denounces  leonine 
rhyming  as  unseemly,  but  praises  the  favourite  metre  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  the  elegiac  ;  for  he  regards  the  hexameter 
and  pentameter  as  together  forming  the  perfect  verse.  It 
was  in  this  metre  that  Hildebert  wrote  his  almost  classic 

1  Muratori,  Script,  v.  407-457. 

2  Muratori,  Script,  vi.  110-161  ;  also  in  Migne. 

3  Written  at  the  close  of  the  twelfth  century.     On  these  people  see  Ronca, 
Cultura  medioevalc  e  poesia  Latino,  cF  //a/za*(Rome,  1892). 

4  Muratori,  vii.  pp.  349-482  ;  Waitz,  Man.  Germ.  xxii.  1-338.     Godfrey  lived 
from  about  1120  to  the  close  of  the  century.     The  Pantheon  was  completed  in 
1185.      Cf.   L.   Delisle,    Instructions  du  comitt  des  travaux  historiques,   etc.  ; 
Literature  latine,  p.  41  (Paris,  1890). 

6  Matthaei  Vindocinensis  ars  versificatoria,  L.  Bourgain  (Paris,  1879). 


CHAP,  xxxu      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  191 

elegy  over  the  ruins  of  Rome.  A  few  lines  have  been 
quoted  from  it ; l  but  the  whole  poem,  which  is  not  long,  is 
of  interest  as  one  of  the  very  best  examples  of  a  mediaeval 
Latin  elegy  : 

"  Par  tibi,  Roma,  nihil,  cum  sis  prope  tola  ruina  ; 

Quam  magni  fueris  Integra  fracta  doces. 
Longa  tuos  fastus  aetas  destruxit,  et  arces 

Caesaris  et  superum  templa  palude  jacent. 
I  lie  labor,  labor  ille  ruit  quern  dirus  Araxes 

Et  stantem  tremuit  et  cecidisse  dolet ; 
Quern  gladii  regum,  quern  provida  cura  senatus, 

Quem  superi  rerum  constituere  caput ; 
Quern  magis  optavit  cum  crimine  solus  habere 

Caesar,  quam  socius  et  pius  esse  socer, 
Qui,  crescens  studiis  tribus,  hostes,  crimen,  amicos 

Vi  domuit,  secuit  legibus,  emit  ope  ; 
In  quern,  dum  fieret,  vigilavit  cura  priorum  : 

Juvit  opus  pietas  hospitis,  unda,  locus. 
Materiem,  fabros,  expensas  axis  uterque 

Misit,  se  muris  obtulit  ipse  locus. 
Expendere  duces  thesauros,  fata  favorem, 

Artifices  studium,  totus  et  orbis  opes. 
Urbs  cecidit  de  qua  si  quicquam  dicere  dignum 

Moliar,  hoc  potero  dicere  :  Roma  fuit. 
Non  tamen  annorum  series,  non  flamma,  nee  ensis 

Ad  plenum  potuit  hoc  abolere  decus. 
Cura  hominum  potuit  tantam  componere  Romam 

Quantam  non  potuit  solvere  cura  deum. 
Confer  opes  marmorque  novum  superumque  favorem, 

Artificum  vigilent  in  nova  facta  manus, 
Non  tamen  aut  fieri  par  stanti  machina  muro, 

Aut  restaurari  sola  ruina  potest. 
Tantum  restat  adhuc,  tantum  ruit,  ut  neque  pars  stans 

Aequari  possit,  diruta  nee  refici. 
Hie  superum  formas  superi  mirantur  et  ipsi, 

Et  cupiunt  fictis  vultibus  esse  pares. 
Non  potuit  natura  deos  hoc  ore  creare 

Quo  miranda  deum  signa  creavit  homo. 
Vultus  adest  his  numinibus,  potiusque  coluntur 

Artificum  studio  quam  deitate  sua. 
Urbs  felix,  si  vel  dominis  urbs  ilia  careret, 

Vel  dominis  esset  turpe  carere  fide."  2 

The  elegiac  metre  was  used  by  Abaelard  in  his  didactic 

1  Ante,  Chapter  XXX.,  in. 

2  Text  from  Haureau,  Les  Melanges  poetiques  d' ' Hildebert  de  Lavardin,  p.  60 ; 
also  in  Notices  des  manuscrits  de  la  bib.  not.  t.  28,  2nd  part  (1878),  p.  331. 


192  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

poem  to  his  son  Astralabius,1  and  by  John  of  Salisbury  in 
his  Entheticus.  The  hexameter  also  was  a  favourite  measure, 
used,  for  instance,  by  Alanus  of  Lille  in  the  Antidaudianus , 
perhaps  the  noblest  of  mediaeval  narrative  or  allegorical 
poems  in  Latin.2  Another  excellent  composition  in  hexa- 
meter was  the  Alexandreis  of  Walter,  born,  like  Alanus, 
apparently  at  Lille,  but  commonly  called  of  Chatillon.  As 
poets  and  as  classical  scholars,  these  two  men  were  worthy 
contemporaries.  Walter's  poem  follows,  or  rather  enlarges 
upon  the  Life  of  Alexander  by  Quintus  Curtius.3  He  is 
said  to  have  written  it  on  the  challenge  of  Matthew  of 
Vendome,  him  of  the  Ars  versificatoria.  The  Ligurinus  of 
a  certain  Cistercian  Gunther  is  still  another  good  example 
of  a  long  narrative  poem  in  hexameters.  It  sets  forth  the 
career  of  Frederick  Barbarossa,  and  was  written  shortly  after 
the  opening  of  the  thirteenth  century.  Its  author,  like 
Walter  and  Alanus,  shows  himself  widely  read  in  the 
Classics.4 

The  sapphic  was  a  third  not  infrequently  attempted 
metre,  of  which  the  De  planctu  naturae  of  Alanus  contains 
examples.  This  work  was  composed  in  the  form  of  the  De 
consolatione  philosophiae  of  Boethius,  where  lyrics  alternate 
with  prose.  The  general  topic  was  Nature's  complaint  over 
man's  disobedience  to  her  laws.  The  author  apostrophizes 
her  in  the  following  sapphics : 

"  O  Dei  proles,  genitrixque  rerum, 
Vinculum  mundi,  stabilisque  nexus, 
Gemma  terrenis,  speculum  caducis, 

Lucifer  orbis. 

Pax,  amor,  virtus,  regimen,  potestas, 
Ordo,  lex,  finis,  via,  dux,  origo, 
Vita,  lux,  splendor,  species,  figura 

Regula  mundi. 

1  I  laureau  gives  a  critical  text  of  the   Carmen  ad  Astralabium  filium,  in 
Notices  et  extraits,  etc.,  34,  part  ii.,  p.  153  sqq.      Other  not  unpleasing  instances 
of  elegiac  verse  are  afforded  by  the   poems  of  Baudri,  Abbot  of  Bourgueil  (d. 
1 1 30).     They  are  occasional  and  fugitive  pieces — nugae,  if  we  will.      See   L. 
Delisle,  Romania,  i.  22-50. 

2  The  substance  of  this  poem  has  been  given  ante,  Chapter  XXIX.     On 
Alanus  see  also  post,  Chapter  XXXVI.,  in. 

3  It  is  printed  in  Migne  209.     Cf.  post,  p.  230,  note  I. 

4  The  Ligurinus  is  printed  in  tome  212  of  Migne's  Patrol.   Lot.     On  its 
author  see    Pannenborg,  Forschungen  zur  deutschen   Geschichte,   Band   ii.   pp. 
161-301,  and  Band  xiii.  pp.  225-331  (Gottingen,  1871  and  1873). 


CHAP,  xxxn      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  193 

Quae  tuis  mundum  moderas  habenis, 
Cuncta  concordi  stabilita  nodo 
Nectis  et  pacis  glutino  maritas 

Coelica  terris. 

Quae  noys  (vovs)  plures  recolens  ideas 
Singulas  rerum  species  monetans, 
Res  togas  formis,  chlamidemque  formae 

Pollice  formas. 

Cui  favet  coelum,  famulatur  aer, 
Quam  colit  Tellus,  veneratur  unda, 
Cui  velut  mundi  dominae  tributum 

Singula  solvunt. 

Quae  diem  nocti  vicibus  catenans 
Cereum  solis  tribuis  diei, 
Lucido  lunae  speculo  soporans 

Nubila  noctis. 

Quae  polum  stellis  variis  inauras, 
Aetheris  nostri  solium  serenans 
Siderum  gemmis,  varioque  coelum 

Milite  complens. 
Quae  novis  coeli  faciem  figuris 
Protheans  mutas  aridumque  vulgus 
Aeris  nostri  regione  donans, 

Legeque  stringis. 
Cujus  ad  nutum  juvenescit  orbis, 
Silva  crispatur  folii  capillo, 
Et  tua  florum  tunicata  veste, 

Terra  superbit. 

Quae  minas  ponti  sepelis,  et  auges, 
Syncopans  cursum  pelagi  furori 
Ne  soli  tractum  tumulare  possit 

Aequoris  aestus."  a 

Practically  all  of  our  examples  have  been  taken  from 
works  composed  in  the  twelfth  century,  and  in  the  land 
comprised  under  the  name  of  France.  The  pre-excellence 
of  this  period  will  likewise  appear  in  accentual  rhyming 
Latin  poetry,  which  was  more  spontaneous  and  living  than 
its  loftily  descended  relative. 


II 

The  academic  vogue  of  metre  in  the  early  Middle  Ages 
did  not  prevent  the  growth  of  more  natural  poetry.      The 

1  Alanus  de  Insulis,  De  planctu  naturae  (Migne  210,  col.  447).  A  transla- 
tion of  the  work  has  been  made  by  D.  M.  Moffat  (New  York,  1908).  For 
other  examples  of  Sapphic  and  Alcaic  verses  see  Haureau  in  Notices  et  extraits, 
etc.,  31  (2),  p.  165  sqq. 

VOL.  II  O 


I94  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

Irish  had  their  Gaelic  poems  ;  people  of  Teutonic  speech  had 
their  rough  verse  based  on  alliteration  and  the  count  of  the 
strong  syllables.  The  Romance  tongues  emerging  from  the 
common  Latin  were  as  yet  poetically  untried.  But  in  the 
proper  Latin,  which  had  become  as  unquantitative  and 
accentual  as  any  of  its  vulgar  forms,  there  was  a  tonic  poetry 
that  was  no  longer  unequipped  with  rhyme. 

Three  rhythmic  elements  made  up  this  natural  mode  of 
Latin  versification:  the  succession  of  accented  and  unaccented 
syllables ;  the  number  of  syllables  in  a  line ;  and  that 
regularly  recurring  sameness  of  sound  which  is  called  rhyme. 
The  source  of  the  first  of  these  seems  obvious.  Accent 
having  driven  quantity  from  speech,  came  to  supersede  it  in 
verse,  with  the  accented  syllable  taking  the  place  of  the  long 
syllable  and  the  unaccented  the  place  of  the  short.  In  the 
Carolingian  period  accentual  verse  followed  the  old  metrical 
forms,  with  this  exception  :  the  metrical  principle  that  one 
long  is  equivalent  to  two  shorts  was  not  adopted.  Conse- 
quently the  number  of  syllables  in  the  successive  lines  of  an 
accentual  strophe  would  remain  the  same,  where  in  the 
metrical  antecedent  they  might  have  varied.  This  is  also 
sufficient  to  account  for  the  second  element,  the  observance 
of  regularity  in  the  number  of  syllables.  For  this  regularity 
seems  to  follow  upon  the  acceptance  of  the  principle  that  in 
rhythmic  verse  an  accented  syllable  is  not  equal  to  two 
unaccented  ones.  The  query  might  perhajjs  be  made  why 
this  Latin  accentual  verse  did  not  take  up  the  principle  of 
regularity  in  the  number  of  strong  syllables  in  a  line,  like 
Old  High  German  poetry  for  example,  where  the  number  of 
unaccented  syllables,  within  reasonable  limits,  is  indifferent. 
A  ready  answer  is  that  these  Latin  verses  were  made  by 
people  of  Latin  speech  who  had  been  acquainted  with 
metrical  forms  of  poetry,  in  which  the  number  of  syllables 
might  vary,  but  was  never  indifferent ;  for  the  metrical  rule 
was  rigid  that  one  long  was  equivalent  to  two  short ;  and  to 
no  more  and  no  less.  Hence  the  short  syllables  were  as 
fixed  in  number  as  the  long.1 

1  Wilhclm  Meyer,  a  leading  authority  upon  mediaeval  Latin  verse-structure, 
derives  the  principle  of  a  like  number  of  syllables  in  every  line  from  eastern 
Semitic  influence  upon  the  early  Christians.  See  Fraguienta  Bur  ana  (Berlin, 


CHAP,  xxxii      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  195 

The  origin  of  the  third  element,  rhyme,  is  in  dispute. 
In  some  instances  it  may  have  passed  into  Greek  and  Latin 
verses  from  Syrian  hymns.1  But  on  the  other  hand  it  had 
long  been  an  occasional  element  in  Greek  and  Latin 
rhetorical  prose.  Probably  rhyme  in  Latin  accentual  verse 
had  no  specific  origin.  It  gradually  became  the  sharpening, 
defining  element  of  such  verse.  Accentual  Latin  lent  itself 
so  naturally  to  rhyme,  that  had  not  rhyme  become  a  fixed 
part  of  this  verse,  there  indeed  would  have  been  a  fact  to 
explain. 

These,  then,  were  the  elements :  accent,  number  of 
syllables,  and  rhyme.  Most  interesting  is  the  development 
of  verse-forms.  Rhythmic  Latin  poetry  came  through  the 
substitution  of  accent  for  quantity,  and  probably  had  many 
prototypes  in  the  old  jingles  of  Roman  soldiers  and 
provincials,  which  so  far  as  known  were  accentual,  rather 
than  metrical.  Christian  accentual  poetry  retained  those 
simple  forms  of  iambic  and  trochaic  verse  which  most  readily 
submitted  to  the  change  from  metre  to  accent,  or  perhaps 
one  should  say,  had  for  centuries  offered  themselves  as 
natural  forms  of  accentual  verse.  Apparently  the  change 
from  metre  to  accent  within  the  old  forms  gradually  took 
place  between  the  sixth  and  the  tenth  centuries.  During 
this  period  there  was  slight  advance  in  the  evolution  of  new 
verses  ;  nor  was  the  period  creative  in  other  respects,  as 
we  have  seen.  But  thereafter,  as  the  mediaeval  centuries 
advanced  from  the  basis  of  a  mastered  patristic  and  antique 
heritage,  and  began  to  create,  there  followed  an  admirable 
evolution  of  verse-forms :  in  some  instances  apparently 
issuing  from  the  old  metrico-accentual  forms,  and  in  others 
developing  independently  by  virtue  of  the  faculty  of  song 
meeting  the  need  of  singing. 

This  factor  wrought  with  power — the  human  need  and 
cognate  faculty  of  song,  a  need  and  faculty  stimulated  in  the 
Middle  Ages  by  religious  sentiment  and  emotion.  In  the 

1901),  pp.  151,  1 66.  That  may  have  had  its  effect ;  but  I  do  not  see  the  need 
of  any  cause  from  afar  to  account  for  the  syllabic  regularity  of  Latin  accentual 
verse. 

1  Again  Wilhelm  Meyer's  view  :  see  I.e.  and  the  same  author's  "  Anfange 
der  latein.  und  griech.  rhythmischen  Dichtung,"  Abhand.  der  Bairish.  Akad. 
Philos.,  philol.  Masse,  1886. 


196  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vi 

fusing  of  melody  and  words  into  an  utterance  of  song — at  last 
into  a  strophe — music  worked  potently,  shaping  the  com- 
position of  the  lines,  moulding  them  to  rhythm,  insisting  upon 
sonorousness  in  the  words,  promoting  their  assonance  and 
at  last  compelling  them  to  rhyme  so  as  to  meet  the  stress, 
or  mark  the  ending,  of  the  musical  periods.  Thus  the 
exigencies  of  melody  helped  to  evoke  the  finished  verse, 
while  the  words  reciprocating  through  their  vocal  capabilities 
and  through  the  inspiration  of  their  meaning,  aided  the 
evolution  of  the  melodies.  In  fine,  words  and  melody,  each 
quickened  by  the  other,  and  each  moulding  the  other  to 
itself,  attained  a  perfected  strophic  unison  ;  and  mediaeval 
musician-poets  achieved  at  last  the  finished  verses  of  hymns 
or  Sequences  and  student-songs. 

There  were  two  distinct  lines  of  evolution  of  accentual 
Latin  verse  in  the  Middle  Ages  ;  and  although  the  faculty 
of  song  was  a  moving  energy  in  both,  it  worked  in  one  of 
them  more  visibly  than  in  the  other.  Along  the  one  line 
accentual  verse  developed  pursuant  to  the  ancient  forms, 
displacing  quantity  with  accent,  and  evolving  rhyme.  The 
other  line  of  evolution  had  no  connection  with  the  antique. 
It  began  with  phrases  of  sonorous  prose,  replacing  inarticulate 
chant  These,  under  the  influence  of  music,  through  the 
creative  power  of  song,  were  by  degrees  transformed  to 
verse.  The  evolution  of  the  Sequence-hymn  will  be  the 
chief  illustration.  With  the  finished  accentual  Latin  poetry 
of  the  twelfth  century  it  may  become  impossible  to  tell 
which  line  of  rhythmic  evolution  holds  the  antecedent  of  a 
given  poem.  In  truth,  this  final  and  perfected  verse  may 
often  have  a  double  ancestry,  descending  from  the  rhythms 
which  had  superseded  metre,  and  being  also  the  child  of 
mediaeval  melody.  Yet  there  is  no  difficulty  in  tracing  by 
examples  the  two  lines  of  evolution. 

To  illustrate  the  strain  of  verse  which  took  its  origin  in 
the  displacement  of  metre  by  accent  and  rhyme,  we  must  look 
back  as  far  as  Fortunatus.  He  was  born  about  the  year 
530  in  northern  Italy,  but  he  passed  his  eventful  life  among 
Franks  and  Thuringians.  A  scholar  and  also  a  poet,  he 
had  a  fair  mastery  of  metre  ;  yet  some  of  his  poems  evince 
the  spirit  of  the  coming  mediaeval  time  both  in  sentiment 


CHAP,  xxxii      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  197 

and  form.  He  wrote  two  famous  hymns,  one  of  them  in  the 
popular  trochaic  tetrameter,  the  other  in  the  equally  simple 
iambic  dimeter.  The  first,  a  hymn  to  the  Cross,  begins  with 
the  never-to-be-forgotten 

"  Pange,  lingua,  gloriosi  proelium  certaminis  "  ; 
and  has  such  lines  as 

"  Crux  fidelis,  inter  omnes  arbor  una  nobilis 

Dulce  lignum,  dulce  clavo  dulce  pondus  sustinens ! " 

In  these  the  mediaeval  feeling  for  the  Cross  shows  itself, 
and  while  the  metre  is  correct,  it  is  so  facile  that  one  may 
read  or  sing  the  lines  accentually.  In  the  other  hymn,  also 
to  the  Cross,  assonance  and  rhyme  foretell  the  coming 
transformation  of  metre  to  accentual  verse.  Here  are  the 
first  two  stanzas  : 

"  Vexilla  regis  prodeunt, 

Fulget  crucis  mysterium, 

Quo  carne  carnis  conditor 

Suspensus  est  patibulo. 

Confixa  clavis  viscera 
Tendens  manus,  vestigia 
Redemtionis  gratia 
Hie  immolata  est  hostia." 

Passing  to  the  Carolingian  epoch,  some  lines  from  a 
poem  celebrating  the  victory  of  Charlemagne's  son  Pippin 
over  the  Avars  in  796,  will  illustrate  the  popular  trochaic 
tetrameter  which  had  become  accentual,  and  already  tended 
to  rhyme  : 

"  Multa  mala  iam  fecerunt  ab  antico  tempore, 
Fana  dei  destruxerunt  atque  monasteria, 
Vasa  aurea  sacrata,  argentea,  fictilia."  l 

Next  we  turn  to  a  piece  by  the  persecuted  and  interesting 
Gottschalk,  written  in  the  latter  part  of  the  ninth  century. 
A  young  lad  has  asked  for  a  poem.  But  how  can  he  sing, 
the  exiled  and  imprisoned  monk  who  might  rather  weep  as  the 
Jews  by  the  waters  of  Babylon  ? 2  yet  he  will  sing  a  hymn 

1  Poet.  Lai.  aev.   Car.   i.   116.      Cf.  Ebert,  Gesch.  etc.  ii.  86.      For  similar 
verses  see  those  on  the  battle  at  Fontanetum  (A.D.  841),  Poet.  Lot.  aev.  Car. 
ii.  138,  and  the  carmen  against  the  town  of  Aquilegia,  ibid.  p.  150. 

2  Cf.  ante,  Vol.  I.,  pp.  227,  228. 


198  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

to  the  Trinity,  and  bewail  his  piteous  lot  before  the  highest 
pitying  Godhead  The  verses  have  a  lyric  unity  of  mood, 
and  are  touching  with  their  sad  refrain.  Their  rhyme,  if  not 
quite  pure,  is  abundant  and  catching,  and  their  nearest 
metrical  affinity  would  be  a  trochaic  dimeter. 

"  i.  Ut  quid  tubes,  pusiole, 
quart  mandas,  filiole, 
carmen  dulce  me  cantare, 
cum  sim  longe  exul  valde 

intra  mare  ? 
o  cur  tubes  canere  ? 

2.  Magis  mihi,  misenile, 
flere  Hbet,  pnerule, 

plus  plorare  quam  cantare 
carmen  tale,  rubes  quale, 

amor  care, 
o  cor  tubes  canere  ? 

3.  Mallem  scias,  pusiUule, 
at  velles  tu,  fratercule, 
pio  corde  condolere 
mihi  atque  prona  mente 

conlugere. 
o  cur  tubes  canere  ? 

4.  Scis,  divine  tyruncule, 
scis,  superne  clientule, 
hie  din  me  exulare, 
rnulta  die  sive  nocte 

toJerare. 
o  cur  rubes  canere  ? 

5.  Scis  captive  plebicule 
Israhelt  cognomine 
praeceptum  in  Babilone 
decantare  extra  longe 

fines  lude. 
o  cur  iubes  canere  ? 

6.  Non  potuerunt  utique, 
nee  debuerunt  itaque 
carmen  dulce  corarn  gente 
aliene  nostri  terre 

resonare. 
o  cur  iubes  canere  ? 

7.  Sed  quia  vis  omnimode, 

segregie, 


CHAP,  xxxii      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  199 

canam  patri  filioque 
simul  atque  procedente 

ex  utroque. 
hoc  cano  ultronee. 

8.  Benedictus  es,  domine, 
pater,  nate,  paraclite, 
deus  trine,  deus  une, 
deus  summe,  deus  pie, 

deus  iuste. 
hoc  cano  spontanee. 

9.  Exul  ego  diuscule 

hoc  in  mare  sum,  domine  : 
annos  nempe  duos  fere 
nosti  fore,  sed  iam  iamque 

miserere, 
hoc  rogo  humillime. 

10.   Interim  cum  pusione 

psallam  ore,  psallam  mente, 
psallam  voce  (psallam  corde , 
psallam  die,  psallam  nocte 

carmen  dulce 
tibi,  rex  piissime.  " 1 

Gottschalk  (and  for  this  it  is  hard  to  love  him)  was  one 
of  the  initiators  of  the  leonine  hexameter,  in  which  a  syllable 
in  the  middle  of  the  line  rhymes  with  the  last  syllable. 
"  Septeno  Augustas  decimo  praeeunte  Kalendas  " 

is  the  opening  hexameter  in  his  Epistle  to  his  friend 
Ratramnus.2  To  what  horrid  jingle  such  verses  could  attain 
may  be  seen  from  some  leonine  hexameter-pentameters  of 
two  or  three  hundred  years  later,  on  the  Fall  of  Troy, 
beginning : 

"  Viribus,  arte,  minis,  Danaum  clara  Troja  ruinis, 
Annis  bis  quinis  fit  rogus  atque  cinis."  * 

1  Tranbe,    Poetae  Lot.   acvi  Car.   iii.   p.   731.     Cf.    Ebert,    Gesch.  etc.  ii. 
169  and  325. 

2  Poet.  Lai.  aev.  Car.  iii.  733. 

3  Da  Meril,  Pots us  populairc;  latines,  L  400. 

Perhaps  the  most  successful  attempt  to  write  hexameters  containing  rhymes  or 
assonances  is  the  twelfth-century  poem  of  Bernard  Morlanensis,  a  monk  of  Cluny, 
beginning  with  the  famous  lines  : 

"  Hora  novissima,  tempora  pessima  sunt,  vigilemus. 

Ecce  minaciter  imminet  arbiter  ille  supremus." 

Bernardi  Morlanensis,  De  contemptu  mundi,  ed.  by  Thos.  Wright,  Master  of 
the  Rolls  Series,  vol.  59  (ii.),  1872.  Bernard  says  in  his  Preface,  as  to  his 
measures :  "Id  genus  metri,  turn  dactylum  continuum  except  is  finalibus,  torn 
etiam  sonoritatem  leonicam  serrans.  . 


200  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

Hector  and  Troy,  and  the  dire  wiles  of  the  Greeks  never 
left  the  mediaeval  imagination.  A  poem  of  the  early  tenth 
century,  which  bade  the  watchers  on  Modena's  walls  be 
vigilant,  draws  its  inspiration  from  that  unfading  memory, 
and  for  us  illustrates  what  iambics  might  become  when 
accent  had  replaced  quantity.  The  lines  throughout  end  in 
a  final  rhyming  a. 

"  O  tu,  qui  servas  armis  ista  moenia, 
Noli  donnire,  moneo,  sed  vigila. 
Dum  Hector  vigil  extitit  in  Troia, 
Non  earn  cepit  fraudulenta  Graecia." l 

And  from  a  scarcely  later  time,  for  it  also  is  of  the  tenth 
century,  rise  those  verses  to  Roma,  that  old  "  Roma  aurea  et 
eterna,"  and  forever  "  caput  mundi,"  sung  by  pilgrim  bands  as 
their  eyes  caught  the  first  gleam  of  tower,  church,  and  ruin  : 

"  O  Roma  nobilis,  orbis  et  domina, 
Cunctarum  urbium  excellentissima, 
Roseo  martyrum  sanguine  rubea, 
Albis  et  virginum  liliis  Candida : 
Salutem  dicimus  tibi  per  omnia, 
Te  benedicimus  :  salve  per  secula."  2 

This  verse,  which  still  lifts  the  heart  of  whosoever  hears 
or  reads  it,  may  close  our  examples  of  mediaeval  verses 
descended  from  metrical  forms.  It  will  be  noticed  that 
all  of  them  are  from  the  early  mediaeval  centuries ;  a 
circumstance  which  may  be  taken  as  a  suggestion  of  the 
fact  that  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  earlier  accentual 
Latin  poetry  was  composed  in  forms  in  which  accent  simply 
had  displaced  the  antique  quantity. 


Ill 

We  turn  to  that  other  genesis  of  mediaeval  Latin  verse, 
arising  not  out  of  antique  forms,  but  rather  from  the 
mediaeval  need  and  faculty  of  song.  In  the  chief  instance 
selected  for  illustration,  this  line  of  evolution  took  its 

1  "  Carmina  Mutinensia,"  Poet.  Lot.  aev.  Car.  iii.  703.  The  poem  has  forty- 
two  lines,  of  which  the  above  are  the  first  four.  The  usual  date  assigned  is  924, 
but  Traube  in  Poet.  aev.  Car.  has  put  it  back  to  892. 

8  See  further  text  and  discussion  in  Traube,  "O  Roma  nobilis,"  Abhand. 
Bairish.  Akad.  Pkilos.,  philol.  Klasse,  1891. 


CHAP,  xxxn      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  201 

inception  in  the  exigencies  and  inspiration  of  the  Alleluia 
chant  or  jubilation.  During  the  celebration  of  the  Mass,  as  the 
Gradual  ended  in  its  last  Alleluia,  the  choir  continued  chanting 
the  final  syllable  of  that  word  in  cadences  of  musical  exultings. 
The  melody  or  cadence  to  which  this  final  a  of  the  Alleluia 
was  chanted,  was  called  the  sequentia.  The  words  which 
came  to  be  substituted  for  its  cadenced  reiteration  were 
called  the  prosa.  By  the  twelfth  century  the  two  terms 
seem  to  have  been  used  interchangeably.  Thus  arose  the 
prose  Sequence,  so  plastic  in  its  capability  of  being  moulded 
by  melody  to  verse.  Its  songful  qualities  lay  in  the 
sonorousness  of  the  words  and  in  their  syllabic  corre- 
spondence with  the  notes  of  the  melody  to  which  they  were 
sung.1 

In  the  year  860,  Norsemen  sacked  the  cloister  ot 
Jumieges  in  Normandy,  and  a  fleeing  brother  carried  his 
precious  Antiphonary  far  away  to  the  safe  retreat  of  St.  Gall. 
There  a  young  monk  named  Notker,  poring  over  its 
contents,  perceived  that  words  had  been  written  in  the  place 
of  the  repetitions  of  the  final  a  of  the  Alleluia.  Taking  the 
cue,  he  set  to  work  to  compose  more  fitting  words  to 
correspond  with  the  notes  to  which  this  final  a  was  sung. 
So  these  lines  of  euphonious  and  fitting  words  appear  to 
have  had  their  beginning  in  Notker's  scanning  of  that 
fugitive  Antiphonary,  and  his  devising  labour.  Their  primary 
purpose  was  a  musical  one ;  for  they  were  a  device — 
mnemotechnic,  if  one  will — to  facilitate  the  chanting  of 
cadences  previously  vocalized  with  difficulty  through  the 
singing  of  one  simple  vowel  sound.  Notker  showed  his 
work  to  his  master,  I  so,  who  rejoiced  at  what  his  gifted 
pupil  had  accomplished,  and  spurred  him  on  by  pointing 
out  that  in  his  composition  one  syllable  was  still  sometimes 
repeated  or  drawn  out  through  several  successive  notes. 
One  syllable  to  each  note  was  the  principle  which  Notker 
now  set  himself  to  realize  ;  and  he  succeeded. 

1  The  verbal  Sequence  or  prosa  was  thus  a  species  or  trope.  Tropes  were 
interpolations  or  additions  to  the  older  text  of  the  Liturgy.  The  Sequences  were 
the  tropes  appended  to  the  last  Alleluia  of  the  Gradital,  the  psalm  chanted  in 
the  celebration  of  the  Mass,  between  the  reading  of  the  Epistle  and  the  Gospel. 
Cf.  Leon  Gautier,  Pohic  liturgique  an  moyen  dget  chap.  iii.  (Paris,  1 886) ;  ibid. 
(Euvres  pottiqucs  d  Adam  de  Saint  Victor,  p.  281  sqq,  (3rd  ed.,  Paris,  1894). 


202  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

He  composed  some  fifty  Sequences.  In  his  work,  as 
well  as  in  that  of  others  after  him,  the  device  of  words 
began  to  modify  and  develop  the  melodies  themselves 
Sometimes  Notker  adapted  his  verbal  compositions  to  those 
cadences  or  melodies  to  which  the  Alleluia  had  long  been 
sung ;  sometimes  he  composed  both  melody  and  words  ;  or, 
again,  he  took  a  current  melody,  sacred  or  secular,  to  which 
the  Alleluia  never  had  been  sung,  and  composed  words  for 
it,  to  be  chanted  as  a  Sequence.  In  these  borrowed  melodies, 
as  well  as  in  those  composed  by  Notker,  the  musical  periods 
were  more  developed  than  in  the  Alleluia  cadences.  Thus 
the  musical  growth  of  the  Sequences  was  promoted  by 
the  use  of  sonorous  words,  while  the  improved  melodies 
in  turn  drew  the  words  on  to  a  more  perfect  rhythmic 
ordering. 

Notker  died  in  912.  His  Sequences  were  prose,  yet 
with  a  certain  parallelism  in  their  construction  ;  and,  even 
with  Notker  in  his  later  years,  the  words  began  to  take  on 
assonances,  chiefly  in  the  vowel  sound  of  a.  Thereafter  the 
melodies,  seizing  upon  the  words,  as  it  were,  by  the  principle 
of  their  syllabic  correspondence  to  the  notation,  moulded 
them  to  rhythm  of  movement  and  regularity  of  line ; 
while  conversely  with  the  better  ordering  of  the  words  for 
singing,  the  melodies  in  turn  made  gain  and  progress, 
and  then  again  reacted  on  the  words,  until  after  two 
centuries  there  emerged  the  finished  verses  of  an  Adam  of 
St.  Victor. 

Thus  these  Sequences  have  become  verse  before  our 
eyes,  and  we  realize  that  it  is  the  very  central  current  of 
the  evolution  of  mediaeval  Latin  poetry  that  we  have  been 
following.  How  free  and  how  spontaneous  was  this 
evolution  of  the  Sequence.  It  was  the  child  of  the  Christian 
Middle  Ages,  seeing  the  light  in  the  closing  years  of  the 
ninth  century,  but  requiring  a  long  period  of  growth  before  it 
reached  the  glory  of  its  climacteric.  It  was  born  of  musical 
chanting,  and  it  grew  as  song,  never  unsung  or  conceived  of 
as  severable  from  its  melody.  Only  as  it  attained  its 
perfected  strophic  forms,  it  necessarily  made  use  of  trochaic 
and  other  rhythms  which  long  before  had  changed  from 
quantity  to  accent  and  so  had  passed  on  into  the  verse- 


CHAP,  xxxn      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  203 

making  habitudes  of  the  Middle  Ages.1  If  there  be  any 
Latin  composition  in  virtue  of  origin  and  growth  absolutely 
un-antique,  it  is  the  mediaeval  Sequence,  which  in  its  final 
forms  is  so  glorious  a  representative  of  the  mediaeval  Hymn. 
And  we  shall  also  see  that  much  popular  Latin  poetry, 
"  Carmina  Burana "  and  student-songs,  were  composed  in 
verses  and  often  sung  to  tunes  taken — or  parodied — from 
the  Sequence-hymns  of  the  Liturgy. 

There  were  many  ways  of  chanting  Sequences.  The 
musical  phrases  of  the  melodies  usually  were  repeated  once, 
except  at  the  beginning  and  the  close  ;  and  the  Sequence 
would  be  rendered  by  a  double  choir  singing  antiphonally. 
Ordinarily  the  words  responded  to  the  repetition  of  the 
musical  phrases  with  a  parallelism  of  their  own.  The  lines 
(after  the  first)  varied  in  length  by  pairs,  the  second  and 
third  lines  having  the  same  number  of  syllables,  the  fourth 
and  fifth  likewise  equal  to  each  other,  but  differing  in 
length  from  the  second  and  third  ;  and  so  on  through  the 
Sequence,  until  the  last  line,  which  commonly  stood  alone 
and  differed  in  length  from  the  preceding  pairs.  The 
Sequence  called  "  Nostra  tuba  "  is  a  good  example.  Probably 
it  was  composed  by  Notker,  and  in  his  later  years  ;  for  it  is 
filled  with  assonances,  and  exhibits  a  regular  parallelism  of 
structure. 

"  Nostra  tuba 

Regatur  fortissime  Dei  dextra  et  preces  audiat 
Aura  placatissima  et  serena  ;  ita  enim  nostra 
Laus   erit  accepta,  voce  si  quod  canimus,  canat  pariter  et  pura  con- 

scientia. 
Et,  ut  haec   possimus,  omnes  divina   nobis  semper  flagitemus  adesse 

auxilia. 


1  On  the  Sequence  see  Leon  Gautier,  Pohie  liturgiqtte  au  moyen  dge 
(Paris,  1886),  passim,  and  especially  the  comprehensive  summary  in  the  notes 
from  p.  154  to  p.  159.  Also  see  Schubiger,  Die  Sangerschule  St.  Callus  (1858), 
in  which  many  of  Notker's  Sequences  are  given  with  the  music  ;  also  v.  Winter- 
feld,  "  Die  Dichterschule  St.  Callus  und  Reichenau,"  Neve  Jahrbiicher  f.  d, 
klassisch.  Altertum,  Bd.  v.  (1900),  p.  341  sqq. 

The  present  writer  has  found  Wilhelm  Meyer's  Fragnienta  Burana  (Berlin, 
1901)  most  suggestive;  and  in  all  matters  pertaining  to  mediaeval  Latin  verse- 
forms,  use  has  been  made  of  the  same  writer's  exhaustive  study :  "  Ludus  de 
Antichristo  und  iiber  lat.  Rythmen,"  Sitzungsber.  Bairisch.  Akad.  Philos.,  philoL 
IClasse,  1882.  See  also  Ch.  Thurot,  "  Notices,  etc.,  de  divers  MSS.  latins  pour 
servir  a  1'histoire  des  doctrines  grammaticales  au  moyen  age,"  in  vol.  xxii.  (2)  of 
Notices  et  extraits  des  MSS.  pp.  417-457. 


204  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

O  bone  Rex,  pie,  juste,  misericors,  qui  es  via  et  janua, 
Portas  regni,  quaesumus,  nobis  reseres,  dimittasque  facinora 

Ut  laudemus  nomen  nunc  tuum  atque  per  cuncta  saecula."  l 

Here,  after  the  opening,  the  first  pair  has  seventeen 
syllables,  and  the  next  pair  twenty-six.  The  last  pair 
quoted  has  twenty  ;  and  the  final  line  of  seventeen  syllables 
has  no  fellow.  A  further  rhythmical  advance  seems  reached 
by  the  following  Sequence  from  the  abbey  of  St.  Martial  at 
Limoges.  It  may  have  been  written  in  the  eleventh  century. 
It  is  given  here  with  the  first  and  second  line  of  the  couplets 
opposite  to  each  other,  as  strophe  and  antistrophe  ;  and  the 
lines  themselves  are  divided  to  show  the  assonances  (or 
rhymes)  which  appear  to  have  corresponded  with  pauses  in 
the  melody : 

"(i)  Canat  omnis  turba 

(2a)  Fonte  renata  (zb)  Laude  jucunda 

Spiritusque  gratia  et  mente  perspicua 

(3#)  Jam  restituta  (3^)  Sicque  jactura 
pars  est  decima  coelestis  ilia 

fuerat  quae  culpa  completur  in  laude 

perdita.  divina. 

(40)  Ecce  praeclara  (46)  Enitet  ampla 

dies  dominica  per  orbis  spatia, 

(50)  Exsultat  in  qua  (5^)  Quia  destructa 

plebs  omnis  redempta,  mors  est  perpetua."  2 

A  Sequence  of  the  eleventh  century  will  afford  a  final 
illustration  of  approach  to  a  regular  strophic  structure,  and 
of  the  use  of  the  final  one-syllable  rhyme  in  a,  throughout 
the  Sequence : 


1  "  May  our  trumpet  be  guided  mightily  by  God's  right  hand,  and  may  He  hear 
our  prayers  with  gentle  and  tranquil  ear  :  for  our  praise  will  be  accepted  if  what 
we  sing  with  the  voice  a  pure  conscience  sings  likewise.     And  that  we  may  be 
able,  let  us  all  beseech  divine  aid  to  be  always  present  with  us.  ...  O  good  King, 
kind,  just,  and  pitying,  who  art  the  way  and  the  door,  unlock  the  gates  of  the 
kingdom  for  us,  we  beg,  and   pardon  our  offences,  that  we  may   praise   thy 
name  now  and  through  all  the  ages." 

2  G.  M.  Dreves,  "  Die  Prosen  der  Abtei  St.  Martial  zu  Limoges,"  p.  59  (vol. 
vii.   of  Dreves's  Analecta  hymnica  medii  aevi;  Leipzig,    1889).      "Let  every 
band  sing  with  fount  renewed  and  the  Spirit's  grace  with  joyful  praise  and  clear 
mind.     Now  is  made  good  the  tenth  part  (i.e.    the  fallen  angels),  undone  by 
fault ;  and  thus  that  celestial  casting  out  is  made  good  in  divine  praise.     Lo  ! 
the  bright  day  of  the  Lord  gleams  through  the  broad  spaces  of  the  world  :  in 
which  all  the  redeemed  people  exult  because  everlasting  death  is  destroyed." 


CHAP,  xxxii      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   VERSE  205 


"  Alleluia, 
Turma,  proclama  leta ; 

Laude  canora, 
Facta  prome  divina, 

Jam  instituta 
Superna  disciplina, 


Christi  sacra 

Per  magnalia 
Es  quia  de  morte  liberata 

Ut  destructa 

Inferni  claustra 
Januaque  cell  patefacta ! 

3 

Jam  nunc  omnia 
Celestia 
Terrestria 

Virtute  gubernat  eterna. 
In  quibus  sua 
Judicia 
Semper  equa 
Dat  auctoritate  paterna/' 


As  the  eleventh  century  closed  and  the  great  twelfth 
century  dawned,  the  forces  of  mediaeval  growth  quickened 
to  a  mightier  vitality,  and  distinctively  mediaeval  creations 
appeared.  Our  eyes,  of  course,  are  fixed  upon  the  northern 
lands,  where  the  Sequence  grew  from  prose  to  verse,  and 
where  derivative  or  analogous  forms  of  popular  poetry 
developed  also.  Up  to  this  time,  throughout  mediaeval 
life  and  thought,  progress  had  been  somewhat  uncrowned 
with  palpable  achievement.  Yet  the  first  brilliant  creations 
of  a  master-workman  are  the  fruit  of  his  apprentice  years, 
during  which  his  progress  has  been  as  real  as  when  his 
works  begin  to  make  it  visible.  So  it  was  no  sudden  birth 

1  Published  by  Boucherie,  "Melanges  Latins,  etc.,"  Revue  des  langues 
romanes,  t.  vii.  (1875),  p.  35. 

"  Alleluia  !  O  flock,  proclaim  joy  ;  with  melodious  praise  utter  deeds  divine 
now  fixed  by  revealed  doctrine.  Through  the  great  sacrifice  of  Christ  thou  art 
liberated  from  death  ;  the  gates  of  hell  destroyed,  opened  are  heaven's  doors. 
Now  He  rules  all  things  celestial  and  terrestrial  by  eternal  power  ;  wherein  by 
the  Father's  authority  He  gives  judgment  always  just." 


206  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

of  power,  but  rather  faculties  ripening  through  apprentice 
centuries,  which  illumine  the  period  opening  about  the  year 
noo.  This  period  would  carry  no  human  teaching  if 
its  accomplishment  in  institutions,  in  philosophy,  in  art 
and  poetry,  had  been  a  heaven -blown  accident,  and  not  the 
fruit  of  antecedent  discipline. 

The  poetic  advance  represented  by  the  Sequences  of 
Adam  of  St.  Victor  may  rouse  our  admiration  for  the  poet's 
genius,  but  should  not  blind  our  eyes  to  the  continuity  of 
development  leading  to  it  Adam  is  the  final  artist  and  his 
work  a  veritable  creation  ;  yet  his  antecedents  made  part  ot 
his  creative  faculty.  The  elements  of  his  verses  and  the 
general  idea  and  form  of  the  sequence  were  given  him  ; — all 
honour  to  the  man's  holy  genius  which  made  these  into 
poems.  The  elements  referred  to  consisted  in  accentual 
measures  and  in  the  two-syllabled  Latin  rhyme  which 
appears  to  have  been  finally  achieved  by  the  close  of  the 
eleventh  century.1  In  using  them  Adam  was  no  borrower, 
but  an  artist  who  perforce  worked  in  the  medium  of  his  art 
Trochaic  and  iambic  rhythms  then  constituted  the  chief 
measures  for  accentual  verse,  as  they  had  for  centuries,  and 
do  still.  For,  although  accentual  rhythms  admit  dactyls 
and  anapaests,  these  have  not  proved  generally  serviceable. 
Likewise  the  inevitable  progress  of  Latin  verse  had  developed 
assonances  into  rhymes ;  and  indeed  into  rhymes  of  two 
syllables,y  for  Latin  words  lend  themselves  as  readily  to 
rhymes  of  two  syllables  as  English  words  to  rhymes  of  one. 

There  existed  also  the  idea  and  form  of  the  Sequence, 
consisting  of  pairs  of  lines  which  had  reached  assonance  and 
some  degree  of  rhythm,  and  varied  in  length,  pair  by  pair, 
following  the  music  of  the  melodies  to  which  they  were 
sung.  For  the  Sequence -melody  did  not  keep  to  the  same 
recurring  tune  throughout,  but  varied  from  couplet  to 
couplet  In  consequence,  a  Sequence  by  Adam  of  St 
Victor  may  contain  a  variety  of  verse-forms.  Moreover,  a 
number  of  the  Sequences  of  which  he  may  have  been  the 
author  show  survivals  of  the  old  rhythmical  irregularities, 
and  of  assonance  as  yet  unsuperseded  by  pure  rhyme. 

1  See  Gautier,  Potsie  liturgiqtu,  p.    147  sqq.     It  came  somewhat  earlier  in 
Italy.     See  Ronca,  Culture.  mediocvaU,  etc.,  p.  348  sqq.  (Rome,  1892). 


CHAP,  xxxii      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  207 

Before  giving  examples  of  Adam's  poems,  a  tribute 
should  be  paid  to  his  great  forerunner  in  the  art  of  Latin 
verse.  Adam  doubtless  was  familiar  with  the  hymns1  of 
the  most  brilliant  intellectual  luminary  of  the  departing 
generation,  one  Peter  Abaelard,  whom  he  may  have  seen 
in  the  flesh.  Those  once  famous  love-songs,  written  for 
Helo'fse,  perished  (so  far  as  we  know)  with  the  love  they 
sang.  Another  fate — and  perhaps  Abaelard  wished  it  so — 
was  in  store  for  the  many  hymns  which  he  wrote  for  his 
sisters  in  Christ,  the  abbess  and  her  nuns.  They  still  exist,2 
and  display  a  richness  of  verse-forms  scarcely  equalled  even 
by  the  Sequences  of  Adam.  In  the  development  of  Latin 
verse,  Abaelard  is  Adam's  immediate  predecessor  ;  his  verses 
being,  as  it  were,  just  one  stage  inferior  to  Adam's  in 
sonorousness  of  line,  in  certainty  of  rhythm,  and  in  purity  ol 
rhyme. 

The  "  prose  "  Sequences  were  not  the  direct  antecedents 
of  Abaelard's  hymns.  Yet  both  sprang  from  the  freely 
devising  spirit  of  melody  and  song  ;  and  therefore  those 
hymns  are  of  this  free-born  lineage  more  truly  than  they  are 
descendants  of  antique  forms.  To  be  sure,  every  possible 
accentual  rhythm,  built  as  it  must  be  of  trochees,  iambics, 
anapaests,  or  dactyls,  has  unavoidably  some  antique 
quantitative  antecedent ;  because  the  antique  measures 
exhausted  the  possibilities  of  syllabic  combination.  Yet 
antecedence  is  not  source,  and  most  of  Abaelard's  verses  by 
their  form  and  spirit  proclaim  their  genesis  in  the  creative 
exigencies  of  song  as  loudly  as  they  disavow  any  antique 
parentage. 

For  example,  there  may  be  some  far  echo  of  metrical 
asclepiads  in  the  following  accentual  and  rhyme-harnessed 
twelve-syllable  verse : 


"  Advenit  veritas,  umbra  praeteriit, 
Post  noctem  claritas  diei  subiit, 


1  While  Sequences  may  be  called  hymns,  all  hymns  are  not  Sequences.  For 
the  hymn  is  the  general  term  designating  a  verbal  composition  sung  in  praise 
of  God  or  His  saints.  A  Sequence  then  would  be  a  hymn  having  a  peculiar 
history  and  a  certain  place  in  the  Liturgy. 

J  Contained  in  Migne  178,  col.  1771  sgg.  They  have  not  been  properly 
edited  or  even  fully  published. 


208  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

Ad  ortum  rutilant  superni  luminis 
Legis  mysteria  plena  caliginis." 

But  the  echo  if  audible  is  faint,  and  surely  no  antique  whisper 
is  heard  in 

"  Est  in  Rama 
Vox  audita 
Rachel  flentis 
Super  natos 
Interfectos 
Ejulantis." 
Nor  in 

"  Golias  prostratus  est, 
Resurrexit  Dominus, 
Ense  jugulatus  est 

Hostis  proprio ; 
Cum  suis  submersus  est 
Ille  Pharao." 

The  variety  of  Abaelard's  verse  seems  endless.  One  or 
two  further  examples  may  or  may  not  suggest  any  ante- 
cedents in  those  older  forms  of  accentual  verse  which 
followed  the  former  metres : 

"  Ornarunt  terram  germina, 
Nunc  caelum  luminaria. 
Sole,  luna,  stellis  depingitur, 
Quorum  multus  usus  cognoscitur." 

In  this  verse  the  first  two  lines  are  accentual  iambic 
dimeters  ;  while  the  last  two  begin  each  with  two  trochees, 
and  close  apparently  with  two  dactyls.  The  last  form  of 
line  is  kept  throughout  in  the  following : 

"  Gaude  virgo  virginum  gloria, 
Matrum  decus  et  mater,  jubila, 
Quae  commune  sanctorum  omnium 
Meruisti  conferre  gaudium." 

Next  come  some  simple  five-syllable  lines,  with  a  catch- 
ing rhyme : 

"  Lignum  amaras 
Indulcat  aquas 
Eis  immissum. 
Omnes  agones 
Sunt  sanctis  dulces 
Per  crucifixum." 


CHAP,  xxxn      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  209 

In  the  following  lines  of  ten  syllables  a  dactyl  appears 
to  follow  a  trochee  twice  in  each  line  : 

"Tuba  Domini,  Paule,  maxima, 
De  caelestibus  dans  tonitrua, 
Hostes  dissipans,  cives  aggrega. 

Doctor  gentium  es  praecipuus, 
Vas  in  poculum  factus  omnibus, 
Sapientiae  plenum  haustibus." 

These  examples  of  Abaelard's  rhythms  may  close  with 
the  following  curiously  complicated  verse  : 

"  Tu  quae  carnem  edomet 

Abstinentiam, 
Tu  quae  carnem  decoret 

Continentiam, 

Tu  velle  quod  bonum  est  his  ingeris 
Ac  ipsum  perficere  tu  tribuis. 

Instrumenta 

Sunt  his  tua 
Per  quos  mira  peragis, 

Et  humana 

Moves  corda 
Signis  et  prodigiis." 

In  general,  one  observes  in  these  verses  that  Abaelard 
does  not  use  a  pure  two-syllable  rhyme.  The  rhyme  is 
always  pure  in  the  last  syllable,  and  in  the  penult  may 
either  exist  as  a  pure  rhyme  or  simply  as  an  assonance,  or 
not  at  all.1 

Probably  Abaelard  wrote  his  hymns  in  1 1 30,  perhaps 
the  very  year  when  Adam  as  a  youth  entered  the  convent 
of  St.  Victor,  lying  across  the  Seine  from  Paris.  The  latter 
appears  to  have  lived  until  1192.  Many  Sequences  have 
been  improperly  ascribed  to  him,  and  among  the  doubtful  ones 
are  a  number  having  affinities  with  the  older  types.  These 
may  be  anterior  to  Adam ;  for  the  greater  part  of  his 
unquestionable  Sequences  are  perfected  throughout  in  their 
versification.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  one  would  expect 
some  progression  in  works  composed  in  the  course  of  a  long 

1  Reference  should  also  be  made  to  the  six  laments  (planctus)  composed 
by  Abaelard  (Migne  178,  col.  1817-1823).  They  are  powerful  elegies,  and 
exhibit  a  richness  and  variety  of  poetic  measures.  It  may  be  mentioned  that  the 
pure  two-syllable  rhyme  is  found  in  hymns  ascribed  to  Saint  Bernard. 

VOL.  II  P 


2io  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

life  devoted  to  such  composition — a  life  covering  a  period 
when  progressive  changes  were  taking  place  in  the  world  of 
thought  beyond  St.  Victor's  walls.  We  take  three  examples 
of  these  Sequences.  The  first  contains  occasional  assonance 
in  place  of  rhyme,  and  uses  many  rhymes  of  one  syllable. 
It  appears  to  be  an  older  composition  improperly  ascribed 
to  Adam.  The  second  is  unquestionably  his,  in  his  most 
perfect  form  ;  the  third  may  or  may  not  be  Adam's  ;  but  is 
given  for  its  own  sake  as  a  lovely  lyric.1 

The  first  example,  probably  written  not  much  later  than 
the  year  1 1  oo,  was  designed  for  the  Mass  at  the  dedication 
of  a  church.  The  variety  in  the  succession  of  couplets  and 
strophes  indicates  a  corresponding  variation  in  the  melody. 


"  Clara  chorus  dulce  pangat  voce  nunc  alleluia, 
Ad  aeterni  regis  laudem  qui  gubernat  omnia ! 

2 

Cui  nos  universalis  social  Ecclesia, 

Scala  nitens  et  pertingens  ad  poli  fastigia ; 

3 

Ad  honorem  cujus  laeta  psallamus  melodia, 
Persolventes  hodiernas  laudes  illi  debitas. 

4 

O  felix  aula,  quam  vicissim 
Confrequentant  agmina  coelica, 

Divinis  verbis  alternatim 
Jungentia  mellea  cantica ! 

5 

Domus  haec,  de  qua  vetusta  sonuit  historia 
Et  moderna  protestatur  Christum  fari  pagina : 
'  Quoniam  elegi  earn  thronum  sine  macula, 
'  Requies  haec  erit  mea  per  aeterna  saecula. 

6 

Turris  supra  montem  sita, 
Indissolubili  bitumine  fundata 
Vallo  perenni  munita, 
Atque  aurea  columna 

1  Leon  Gautier,  the  editor  of  the  CEuvres  poetiques  d"  Adam  de  Saint-  Victor, 
in  his  third  edition  of  1894,  has  thrown  out  from  among  Adam's  poems  our  first 
and  third  examples.  On  Adam  see  ante,  Chapter  XXIX.,  n. 


CHAP,  xxxn      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  211 

Miris  ac  variis  lapidibus  distincta, 
Stylo  subtili  polita ! 

7 

Ave,  mater  praeelecta, 
Ad  quam  Christus  fatur  ita 

Prophetae  facundia : 

'  Sponsa  mea  speciosa, 

'  Inter  filias  formosa, 

'  Supra  solem  splendida  ! 


'  Caput  tuum  ut  Carmelus 
'  Et  ipsius  comae  tinctae  regis  uti  purpura  j 

'  Oculi  ut  columbarum, 
'  Genae  tuae  punicorum  ceu  malorum  fragmina  ' 

9 

'  Mel  et  lac  sub  lingua  tua,  favus  stillans  labia ; 
4  Collum  tuum  ut  columna,  turris  et  eburnea  ! : 


Ergo  nobis  Sponsae  tuae 
Famulantibus,  o  Christe,  pietate  solita 

Clemens  adesse  dignare 
Et  in  tuo  salutari  nos  ubique  visita. 

ii 

Ipsaque  mediatrice,  summe  rex,  perpetue, 

Voce  pura 
Flagitamus,  da  gaudere  Paradisi  gloria. 

Alleluia ! "  1 

The  second  example  is  Adam's  famous  Sequence  for 
St.  Stephen's  Day,  which  falls  on  the  day  after  Christmas. 
It  is  throughout  sustained  and  perfect  in  versification,  and 
in  substance  a  splendid  hymn  of  praise. 


"  Heri  mundus  exultavit 
Et  exultans  celebravit 

Christi  natalitia ; 
Heri  chorus  angelorum 
Prosecutus  est  coelorum 

Regem  cum  laetitia. 

1  Gautier,  CEuvres  pottiqties  cCAdam  cU  Saint- Victor ;  i.  174. 


212  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK 


Protomartyr  et  levita, 
Clams  fide,  clarus  vita, 

Clarus  et  miraculis, 
Sub  hac  luce  triumphavit 
Et  triumphans  insultavit 

Stephanus  incredulis. 

3 

Fremunt  ergo  tanquam  ferae 

Quia  victi  defecere 
Lucis  adversarii : 
Falsos  testes  statuunt, 
Et  linguas  exacuunt 
Viperarum  filii. 

4 

Agonista,  nulli  cede, 
Certa  certus  de  mercede, 
Persevera,  Stephane ; 
Insta  falsis  testibus, 
Confuta  sermonibus 
Synagogam  Satanae. 

5 

Testis  tuus  est  in  coelis, 
Testis  verax  et  fidelis, 

Testis  innocentiae. 
Nomen  habes  coronati : 
Te  tormenta  decet  pati 

Pro  corona  gloriae. 


Pro  corona  non  marcenti 
Perfer  brevis  vim  tormenti 

Te  manet  victoria. 
Tibi  fiet  mors  natalis, 
Tibi  poena  terminalis 

Dat  vitae  primordia. 


Plenus  Sancto  Spiritu, 
Penetrat  intuitu 
Stephanus  coelestia. 
Videns  Dei  gloriam, 
Crescit  ad  victoriam, 
Suspirat  ad  praemia. 


CHAP.  »xii      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  213 


En  a  dextris  Dei  stantem, 
Jesum  pro  te  dimicantem, 

Stephane,  considera : 
Tibi  coelos  reserari, 
Tibi  Christum  revelari, 

Clama  voce  libera. 

9 

Se  commendat  Salvatori, 
Pro  quo  dulce  ducit  mori 

Sub  ipsis  lapidibus. 

Saulus  servat  omnium 

Vestes  lapidantium, 

Lapidans  in  omnibus. 

ro 

Ne  peccatum  statuatur 
His  a  quibus  lapidatur, 
Genu  ponit,  et  precatur, 

Condolens  insaniae. 
In  Christo  sic  obdormivit, 
Qui  Christo  sic  obedivit, 
Et  cum  Christo  semper  vivit, 

Martyrum  primitiae." 

.  i 

The  last  example,  in  honour  of  St.  Nicholas's  Day,  is  a 
lovely  poem  by  whomsoever  written.  Its  verses  are  extremely 
diversified.  It  begins  with  somewhat  formal  chanting  of  the 
saint's  virtues,  in  dignified  couplets.  Suddenly  it  changes  to 
a  joyful  lyric,  and  sings  of  a  certain  sweet  sea-miracle  wrought 
by  Nicholas.  Then  it  spiritualizes  the  conception  of  his 
saintly  aid  to  meet  the  call  of  the  sin-tossed  soul.  It  closes 
in  stately  manner  in  harmony  with  its  liturgical  function. 

i 

"  Congaudentes  exultemus  vocali  concordia 
Ad  beati  Nicolai  festiva  solemnia  ! 


Qui  in  cunis  adhuc  jacens  servando  jejunia 
A  papilla  coepit  summa  promereri  gaudia. 

3 

Adolescens  amplexatur  litterarum  studia, 
Alienus  et  immunis  ab  omni  lascivia. 

1  Gautier,  o.f.  3rd  edition,  p.  87. 


214  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

4 

Felix  confessor,  cujus  fuit  dignitatis  vox  de  coelo  nuntia  ! 
Per  quam  provectus,  praesulatus  sublimatur  ad  summa  fastigia. 

5 

Erat  in  ejus  animo  pietas  eximia, 
Et  oppressis  impendebat  multa  beneficia. 


Auro  per  eum  virginum  tollitur  infamia, 
Atque  patris  earumdem  levatur  inopia. 

7 

Quidam  nautae  navigantes, 
Et  contra  fluctuum  saevitiam  luctantes, 

Navi  pene  dissoluta, 

Jam  de  vita  desperantes, 
In  tanto  positi  periculo,  clamantes 

Voce  dicunt  omnes  una  : 

8 

'O  beate  Nicolae, 

Nos  ad  maris  portum  trahe 

De  mortis  angustia. 
Trahe  nos  ad  portum  maris, 
Tu  qui  tot  auxiliaris, 
Pietatis  gratia.' 

9 

Dum  clamarent,  nee  incassum, 
'  Ecce '  quidam  dicens,  '  assum 

Ad  vestra  praesidia.' 
Statim  aura  datur  grata 
Et  tempestas  fit  sedata  : 

Quieverunt  maria. 


Nos,  qui  sumus  in  hoc  mundo, 
Vitiorum  in  profundo 

Jam  passi  naufragia, 
Gloriose  Nicolae 
Ad  salutis  portum  trahe, 

Ubi  pax  et  gloria. 


I  Ham  nobis  unctionem 
Impetres  ad  Dominum, 
Prece  pia, 


CHAP,  xxxn      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  215 

Qua  sanavit  laesionem 
Multorum  peccaminum 
In  Maria. 

12 

Hujus  festum  celebrantes  gaudeant  per  saecula, 
Et  coronet  eos  Christus  post  vitae  curricula  !  "  l 

The  foregoing  examples  of  religious  poetry  may  be 
supplemented  by  illustrations  of  the  parallel  evolution  of 
more  profane  if  not  more  popular  verse.  Any  priority  in 
time,  as  between  the  two,  should  lie  with  the  former  ;  though 
it  may  be  the  truer  view  to  find  a  general  synchronism  in 
the  secular  and  religious  phases  of  lyric  growth.  But 
priority  of  originality  and  creativeness  certainly  belongs  to 
that  line  of  lyric  evolution  which  sprang  from  religious 
sentiments  and  emotions.  For  the  vagrant  clerkly  poet  of 
the  Court,  the  roadside,  and  the  inn,  used  the  forms  of  verse 
fashioned  by  the  religious  muse  in  the  cloister  and  the  school. 
Thus  the  development  of  secular  Latin  verse  presents  a 
derivative  parallel  to  the  essentially  primary  evolution  of  the 
Sequence  or  the  hymn. 

It  was  in  Germany  that  the  composition  of  Sequences 
was  most  zealously  cultivated  during  the  century  following 
Notker's  death ;  and  it  was  in  Germany  that  the  Sequence, 
in  its  earlier  forms,  exerted  most  palpable  influence  upon 
popular  songs.2  In  these  so-called  Modi  (Modus  =  song),  as 
in  the  Sequence,  rhythmical  compositions  may  be  seen 
progressing  in  the  direction  of  regular  rhythm,  rhyme,  and 
strophic  form.  As  in  the  Sequences,  the  tune  moulded  the 
words,  which  in  turn  influenced  the  melody.  The  following 
is  from  the  Modus  Ottinc,  a  popular  song  composed  about 

1  Gautier,  o.c.  1st  edition,  i.  201. 

2  Did  the  Sequence  exert  an  influence  upon  Hrotsvitha,  the  tiresome  but 
unquestionably  immortal  nun  of  Gandersheim,  who  flourished  in  the  middle  and 
latter  part  of  the  tenth  century  ?     She  wrote  narrative  poems,  like  the  Gesta 
Ottonis  (Otto  I. )  in  leonine  hexameters.      Her  pentameter  lines  also  commonly 
have  a  word  in  the  middle  rhyming  with  the  last  syllable  of  the  line.     But  it  is 
in  those  famous  pious  plays  of  hers,  formed  after  the  models  of  Terence,  that  we 
may  look  for  a  kind  of  writing  corresponding  to  that  which  was  to  progress  to 
clearer  form  in  the  Sequence.     Without  discussing  to  what  extent  the  Latin  of 
these  plays  may  be  called  rhythmical,  one  or  two  things  are  clear.     It  is  filled 
with  assonances  and  rude  rhymes,  usually  of  one  syllable.     It  has  no  clear  verse- 
structure,  and  the  utterances  of  the  dramatis  personae  apparently  observe  no 
regularity  in  the  number  of  syllables,  such  as  lines  of  verse  require. 


216  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

the  year  1000  in  honour  of  a  victory  of  Otto  III.  over  the 
Hungarians  : 

11  His  incensi  belia  iremunt,  arma  poscunt,  hostes  vocant,  signa  secuntur, 

tubis  canunt. 
Clamor  passim  oritur  et  milibus  centum  Theutones  inmiscentur. 

Pauci  cedunt,  plures  cadunt,  Francus  instat,  Parthus  fugit ;    vulgus 

exangue  undis  obstat ; 
Licus  rubens  sanguine  Danubio  cladem  Parthicam  ostendebat." 

Another  example  is  the  Modus  florum  of  approximately 
the  same  period,  a  song  about  a  king  who  promised  his 
daughter  to  whoever  could  tell  such  a  lie  as  to  force  the 
king  to  call  him  a  liar.  It  opens  as  follows : 

;     "  Mendosam  quam  cantilenam  ago, 
puerulis  commendatam  dabo, 
quo  modules  per  mendaces  risum 
auditoribus  ingentem  ferant. 

Liberali  s  et  decora 
cuidam  regi  erat  nata 
quam  sub  lege  hujusmodi 
procis  opponit  quaerendam." 


Here  the  rhyme  still  is  rude  and  the  rhythm  irregular. 
The  following  dirge,  written  thirty  or  forty  years  later  on 
the  death  of  the  German  emperor,  Henry  II.,  shows 
improvement : 

"  Lamentemur  nostra,  Socii,  peccata, 
amentemur  et  ploremus  !     Quare  tacemus  ? 

Pro  iniquitate  corruimus  late  ; 
scimus  coeli  hinc  oftensum  regem  immensum. 
Heinnco  requiem,  rex  Christe,  dona  perennem."2 

We  may  pass  on  into  the  twelfth  century,  still  following 
the  traces  of  that  development  of  popular  verse  which 
paralleled  the  evolution  of  the  Sequence.  We  first  note 

1  For  these  and  other  songs,  written  after  the  manner  of  Sequences,  see  Du 
Meril,  Palsies  pop.  lot.  i.  p.  273  sqq.  They  are  also  printed  by  Piper  in 
Nathtrage  zur  dlteren  deutschen  Lit.  (Deutsche  Nat.  Lit.)  p.  206  sqq.  and  p.  234 
sqq.  See  also  W.  Meyer,  Fragmcnta  JSurana,  p.  1 74  sqq.  and  Ebert,  Allgemeine 
Gesch.  etc.  ii.  343  sqq. 

8  Du  Meril,  ibid.  i.  p.  285. 


CHAP,  xxxn      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   VERSE  217 

some  catchy  rhymes  of  a  German  student  setting  out  for 
Paris  in  quest  of  learning  and  intellectual  novelty : 

"  Hospita  in  Gallia  nunc  me  vocant  studia. 
Vadam  ergo ;  flens  a  tergo  socios  relinquo. 
Plangite  discipuli,  lugubris  discidii  tempore  propinquo. 
Vale,  dulcis  patria,  suavis  Suevorum  Suevia  ! 

Salve  dilecta  Francia,  philosophorum  curia  ! 

Suscipe  discipulum  in  te  peregrinum, 

Quern  post  dierum  circulum  remittes  Socratinum."  l 

This  Suabian,  singing  his  uncouth  Latin  rhymes,  and 
footing  his  way  to  Paris,  suggests  the  common,  delocalized 
influences  which  were  developing  a  mass  of  student-songs, 
"  Carmina  Burana,"  or  "  Goliardic "  poetry.  The  authors 
belonged  to  that  large  and  broad  class  of  clerks  made  up  of 
any  and  all  persons  who  knew  Latin.  The  songs  circulated 
through  western  Europe,  and  their  home  was  everywhere,  if 
not  their  origin.  Some  of  them  betray,  as  more  of  them  do 
not,  the  author's  land  and  race.  Frequently  of  diabolic 
cleverness,  gibing,  amorous,  convivial,  they  show  the  virtuosity 
in  rhyme  of  their  many  makers.  Like  the  hymns  and  later 
Sequences,  they  employed  of  necessity  those  accentual 
measures  which  once  had  their  quantitative  prototypes  in 
antique  metres.  But,  again  like  the  hymns  and  Sequences, 
they  neither  imitate  nor  borrow,  but  make  use  of  trochaic, 
iambic,  or  other  rhythms  as  the  natural  and  unavoidable 
material  of  verse.  Their  strophes  are  new  strophes,  and  not 
imitations  of  anything  in  quantitative  poetry.  So  these 
songs  were  free-born,  and  their  development  was  as  in- 
dependent of  antique  influence  as  the  melodies  which  ever 
moulded  them  to  more  perfect  music.  Many  and  divers 
were  their  measures.  But  as  that  great  strophe  of  Adam's 
Heri  mundus  exultavit  (the  strophe  of  the  Stabat  Mater}  was 
of  mightiest  dominance  among  the  hymns,  so  for  these 
student-songs  there  was  also  one  measure  that  was  chief.  This 
was  the  thirteen-syllable  trochaic  line,  with  its  lilting  change 
of  stress  after  the  seventh  syllable,  and  its  pure  two-syllable 
rhyme.  It  is  the  line  of  the  Confessio  poetae,  or  Confessio 
Goliae^  where  nests  that  one  mediaeval  Latin  verse  which 
everybody  still  knows  by  heart : 

1  Wil.  Meyer,  Fragmenta  Burana,  p.  1 80. 


218  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

"  Meum  est  prop>ositum  in  taberna  mori, 
Vinum  sit  appositum  morientis  ori, 
Tune  cantabunt  laetius  angelorum  chori, 
'  Sit  Deus  propitius  huic  potatori.'  " 

It  is  also  the  line  of  the  quite  charming  Phyllis  and 
Flora  of  the  Carmina  Burana  : 

"  Erant  ambae  virgines  et  arnbae  reginae, 
Phyllis  coma  libera,  Flora  compto  crine  : 
Non  sunt  formae  virginum,  sed  formae  divinae, 
Et  respondent  facie  luci  matutinae." l 

Another  common  measure  is  the  twelve-syllable  dactylic 
line  of  the  famous  Apocalypsis  Goliae  Episcopi  : 

"  Ipsam  Pythagorae  formam  aspicio, 
Inscriptam  artium  schemate  vario. 
An  extra  corpus  sit  haec  revelatio, 
Utrum  in  corpore,  Deus  scit,  nescio. 
In  fronte  micuit  ars  astrologica  : 
Dentium  seriem  regit  grammatica  ; 
In  lingua  pulcrius  vernat  rhetorica, 
Concussis  aestuat  in  labiis  logica." 

An  example  of  the  not  infrequent  eight-syllable  line  is 
afforded  by  that  tremendous  satire  against  papal  Rome, 
beginning : 

"  Propter  Sion  non  tacebo, 
Sed  ruinam  Romae  flebo, 
Quousque  justitia 
Rursus  nobis  oriatur, 
Et  ut  lampas  accendatur 
Justus  in  ecclesia." 

Here  the  last  line  of  the  verse  has  but  seven  syllables, 
as  is  the  case  in  the  following  verse  of  four  lines  : 

"Vinum  bonum  et  suave, 
Bonis  bonum,  pravis  prave, 
Cunctis  dulcis  sapor,  ave, 

Mundana  laetitia  ! " 

But  the  eight-syllable  lines  may  be  kept  throughout,  as 
in  the  following  lament  over  life's  lovely,  pernicious  charm, 
so  touching  in  its  expression  of  the  mortal  heartbreak  of 
mediaeval  monasticism : 

1  The  best  text  of  the  "  Phillidis  et  Florae  altercatio "  is  Haureau's  in 
Notices  et  exfratts,  32  (i),  p.  259  sqq.  The  same  article  has  some  other  disputes 
or  causae,  e.g.  causa  pauperis  scholaris  cum  presbytero,  p.  289. 


CHAP,  xxxn      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  219 

"  Heu  !  Heu  !  mundi  vita, 
Quare  me  delectas  ita  ? 
Cum  non  possis  mecum  stare, 
Quid  me  cogis  te  amare  ? 

Vita  mundi,  res  morbosa, 
Magis  fragilis  quam  rosa, 
Cum  sis  tola  lacrymosa, 
Cur  es  mihi  graciosa  ? "  1 


IV 

Our  consideration  of  the  different  styles  of  mediaeval 
Latin  prose  and  the  many  novel  forms  of  mediaeval  Latin 
verse  has  shown  how  radical  was  the  departure  of  the  one 
and  the  other  from  Cicero  and  Virgil.  Through  such 
changes  Latin  continued  to  prove  itself  a  living  language. 
Yet  its  vitality  was  doomed  to  wane  before  the  rivalry  of 
the  vernacular  tongues.  The  vivida  vis,  the  capability  of 
growth,  had  well-nigh  passed  from  Latin  when  Petrarch 
was  born.  In  endeavouring  to  maintain  its  supremacy  as  a 
literary  vehicle  he  was  to  hold  a  losing  brief,  nor  did  he 
strengthen  his  cause  by  attempting  to  resuscitate  a  classic 
style  of  prose  and  metre.  The  victory  of  the  vernacular 
was  announced  in  Dante's  De  vulgari  eloquentia  and 
demonstrated  beyond  dispute  in  his  Divina  Commedia. 

A  long  and  for  the  most  part  peaceful  and  unconscious 
conflict  had  led  up  to  the  victory  of  what  might  have  been 
deemed  the  baser  side.  For  Latin  was  the  sole  mediaeval 
literature  that  was  born  in  the  purple,  with  its  stately  lineage 
of  the  patristic  and  the  classical  back  of  it.  Latin  was 
the  language  of  the  Roman  world  and  the  vehicle  of  Latin 
Christianity.  It  was  the  language  of  the  Church  and  its 
clergy,  and  the  language  of  all  educated  people.  Naturally 

1  Du  Meril,  Poesies  pop.  lat.  ii.  p.  108  sqq.  The  piece  is  a  cento,  and  its  tone 
changes  and  becomes  brutal  further  on.  The  poems,  from  which  are  taken  the 
preceding  citations,  are  to  be  found  in  Wright's  Latin  Poems  commonly  attributed 
to  Walter  Mapes  (London,  1841,  Camden  Society) ;  Carmina  Burana,  ed.  J.  A. 
Schmeller  ;  "Gedichte  auf  K.  Friedrich  I.  (archipoeta),"  in  vol.  iii.  of  Grimm's 
Kleinere  Schriften.  Cf.  also  Hubatsch,  Die  lateinischen  Vagantcnlieder  (Gorlitz, 
1870).  The  best  texts  of  many  of  these  and  other  "  Carmina  Burana,"  and  such 
like  poems,  are  to  be  found  in  the  contributions  of  Haur&iu  to  the  Notices  et 
extraits,  etc.  ;  especially  in  tome  29  (2),  pp.  231-368  ;  tome  31  (I),  p.  51  sqq. 


220  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

the  entire  contents  of  existing  and  progressive  Christian  and 
antique  culture  were  contained  in  the  mediaeval  Latin 
literature,  the  literature  of  religion  and  of  law  and  govern- 
ment, of  education  and  of  all  serious  knowledge.  It  was  to 
be  the  primary  literature  of  mediaeval  thought ;  from  which 
passed  over  the  chief  part  of  whatever  thought  and 
knowledge  the  vernacular  literatures  were  to  receive.  For 
scholars  who  follow,  as  we  have  tried  to,  the  intellectual  and 
the  deeper  emotional  life  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  Latin 
literature  yields  the  incomparably  greater  part  of  the 
material  of  our  study.  It  has  been  our  home  country,  from 
which  we  have  made  casual  excursions  into  the  vernacular 
literatures. 

These  existed,  however,  from  the  earliest  mediaeval 
periods,  beginning,  if  one  may  say  so,  in  oral  rather  than 
written  documents.  We  read  that  Charlemagne  caused  a 
book  to  be  made  of  Germanic  poems,  which  till  then 
presumably  had  been  carried  in  men's  memories.  The 
Hildebrandslied  is  supposed  to  have  been  one  of  them.1  In 
the  Norse  lands,  the  Eddas  and  the  matter  of  the  Sagas 
were  repeated  from  generation  to  generation,  long  before 
they  were  written  down.  The  habit,  if  not  the  art,  of 
writing  came  with  Christianity  and  the  Latin  education 
accompanying  it.  Gradually  a  written  literature  in  the 
Teutonic  languages  was  accumulated.  Of  this  there  was 
the  heathen  side,  well  represented  in  Anglo-Saxon  and  the 
Norse ;  while  in  Old  High  German  the  Hildebrandslied 
remains,  heathen  and  savage.  Thereafter,  a  popular  and 
even  national  or  rather  racial  poetry  continued,  developed, 
and  grew  large,  notwithstanding  the  spread  of  Latin 
Christianity  through  Teutonic  lands.  Of  this  the 
Niebelungenlied  and  the  Gudrun  are  great  examples.  But 
individual  still  famous  poets,  who  felt  and  thought  as 
Germans,  were  also  composing  sturdily  in  their  vernacular 
— a  lack  of  education  possibly  causing  them  to  dictate 
(dictieren,  dichteri)  rather  than  to  write.  Of  these  the 
greatest  were  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach  and  Walther  von 
der  Vogelweide.  With  them  and  after  them,  or  following 
upon  the  Niebelungenlied,  came  a  mass  of  secular  poetry, 

1  Ante,  Vol.  I.,  p.  145. 


CHAP,  xxxn      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  221 

some  of  which  was  popular  and  national,  reflecting  Germanic 
story,  while  some  of  it  was  courtly,  transcribing  the  courtly 
poetry  which  by  the  twelfth  century  flourished  in  Old 
French. 

Thus  bourgeoned  the  secular  branches  of  German 
literature.  On  the  other  hand,  from  the  time  of  Christianity's 
introduction,  the  Germans  felt  the  need  to  have  the  new 
religion  presented  to  them  in  their  own  tongues.  The 
labour  of  translation  begins  with  Ulfilas,  and  is  continued 
with  conscientious  renderings  of  Scripture  and  Latin 
educational  treatises,  and  also  with  such  epic  paraphrase 
as  the  Heliand  and  the  more  elegiac  poems  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  Cynewulf.1  Also,  at  least  in  Germany,  there  comes 
into  existence  a  full  religious  literature,  not  stoled  or  mitred, 
but  popular,  non-academic,  and  non-liturgical ;  of  which 
quantities  remain  in  the  Middle  High  German  of  the 
thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries.2 

Obviously  the  Romance  vernacular  literatures  had  a 
different  commencement.  The  languages  were  Latin, 
simply  Latin,  in  their  inception,  and  never  ceased  to  be 
legitimate  continuations  and  developments  of  the  popular 
or  Vulgar  Latin  of  the  Roman  Empire.  But  as  the  speech 
of  children,  women,  and  unlettered  people,  they  were  not 
thought  of  as  literary  media.  All  who  could  write  under- 
stood perfectly  the  better  Latin  from  which  these  popular 
dialects  were  slowly  differentiating  themselves.  And  as 
they  progressed  to  languages,  still  their  life  and  progress 
lay  among  peoples  whose  ancestral  tongue  was  the  proper 
Latin,  which  all  educated  men  and  women  still  understood 
and  used  in  the  serious  business  of  life. 

But  sooner  or  later  men  will  talk  and  sing  and  think 
and  compose  in  the  speech  which  is  closest  to  them.  The 
Romance  tongues  became  literary  through  this  human  need 
of  natural  expression.  There  always  had  been  songs  in  the 
old  Vulgar  Latin  ;  and  such  did  not  cease  as  it  gradually 
became  what  one  may  call  Romance.  Moreover,  the  clergy 
might  be  impelled  to  use  the  popular  speech  in  preaching  to 

1  Ante,  Chapter  IX.,  M.  and  in. 

2  For  generous  samples  of  it,  see  Geistliche  Lit.  des  Mittelalttrs,  ed.  P.  Piper 
(Deutsche  National  Literatur). 


222  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

the  laity,  or  some  unlearned  person  might  compose  religious 
verses.  Almost  the  oldest  monument  of  Old  French  is 
the  hymn  in  honour  of  Ste.  Eulalie.  Then  as  civilization 
advanced  from  the  tenth  to  the  twelfth  century,  in  southern 
and  northern  France  for  example,  and  the  langue  (foe  and 
the  langue  doil  became  independent  and  developed  languages, 
unlearned  men,  or  men  with  unlearned  audiences,  would 
unavoidably  set  themselves  to  composing  poetry  in  these 
tongues.  In  the  North  the  chansons  de  geste  came  into 
existence  ;  in  the  South  the  knightly  Troubadours  made 
love-lyrics.  Somehow,  these  poems  were  written  down,  and 
there  was  literature  for  men's  eyes  as  well  as  for  men's  ears. 

In  the  twelfth  century  and  the  thirteenth,  the  audiences 
for  Romance  poetry,  especially  through  the  regions  of 
southern  and  northern  France,  increased  and  became 
diversified.  They  were  made  up  of  all  classes,  save  the 
brute  serf,  and  of  both  sexes.  The  chansons  de  geste  met 
the  taste  of  the  feudal  barons  ;  the  Arthurian  Cycle  charmed 
the  feudal  dames;  the  coarse  fabliaux  pleased  the  bourgeoisie; 
and  chansons  of  all  kinds  might  be  found  diverting  by  various 
people.  If  the  religious  side  was  less  strongly  represented, 
it  was  because  the  closeness  of  the  language  to  the  clerkly 
and  liturgical  Latin  left  no  such  need  of  translations  as  was 
felt  from  the  beginning  among  peoples  of  Germanic  speech. 
Still  the  Gospels,  especially  the  apocryphal,  were  put  into 
Old  French,  and  miracles  de  Notre  Dame  without  number  ; 
also  legends  of  the  saints,  and  devout  tales  of  many  kinds. 

The  accentual  verses  of  the  Romance  tongues  had  their 
source  in  the  popular  accentual  Latin  verse  of  the  later 
Roman  period.  Their  development  was  not  unrelated  to 
the  Latin  accentual  verse  which  was  superseding  metrical 
composition  in  the  centuries  extending,  one  may  say,  from 
the  fifth  to  the  eleventh.  Divergences  between  the  Latin 
and  Romance  verse  would  be  caused  by  the  linguistic 
evolution  through  which  the  Romance  tongues  were  becoming 
independent  languages.  Nor  was  this  divergence  uninfluenced 
by  the  fact  that  Romance  poetry  was  popular  and  usually 
concerned  with  topics  of  this  life,  while  Latin  poetry  in  the 
most  striking  lines  of  its  evolution  was  liturgical ;  and  even 
when  secular  in  topic  tended  to  become  learned,  since  it  was 


CHAP,  xxxii      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN   VERSE  223 

the  product  of  the  academically  educated  classes.  Much  of 
the  vernacular  (Romance  as  well  as  Germanic)  poetry  in  the 
Middle  Ages  was  composed  by  unlearned  men  who  had  at 
most  but  a  speaking  acquaintance  with  Latin,  and  knew 
little  of  the  antique  literature.  This  was  true,  generally,  of 
the  Troubadours  of  Provence,  of  the  authors  of  the  Old 
French  chansons  de  geste>  and  of  such  a  courtly  poet  as 
Chretien  de  Troies ;  true  likewise  of  the  great  German 
Minnesingers,  epic  poets  rather,  Gottfried  von  Strassburg, 
Wolfram  von  Eschenbach,  and  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide. 

On  the  other  hand,  vernacular  poetry  might  be  written 
by  highly  learned  men,  of  whom  the  towering  though  late 
example  would  be  Dante  Alighieri.  An  instance  somewhat 
nearer  to  us  at  present  is  Jean  Clopinel  or  de  Meun,  the 
author  of  the  second  part  of  the  Roman  de  la  rose.  His 
extraordinary  Voltairean  production  embodies  all  the  learning 
of  the  time  ;  and  its  scholar-author  was  a  man  of  genius,  who 
incorporated  his  learning  and  the  fruit  thereof  very  organically 
in  his  poem. 

But  here,  at  the  close  of  our  consideration  of  the 
mediaeval  appreciation  of  the  Classics,  and  the  relations 
between  the  Classics  and  mediaeval  Latin  literature,  we  are 
not  occupied  with  the  very  loose  and  general  question  of  the 
amount  of  classical  learning  to  be  found  in  the  vernacular 
literatures  of  western  Europe.  That  was  a  casual  matter 
depending  on  the  education  and  learning,  or  lack  thereof,  of 
the  author  of  the  given  piece.  But  it  may  be  profitable  to 
glance  at  the  passing  over  of  antique  themes  of  story  into 
mediaeval  vernacular  literature,  and  the  manner  of  their 
refashioning.  This  is  a  huge  subject,  but  we  shall  not  go 
into  it  deeply,  or  pursue  the  various  antique  themes  through 
their  endless  propagations. 

Antique  stories  aroused  and  pointed  the  mediaeval 
imagination  ;  they  made  part  of  the  never-absent  antique 
influence  which  helped  to  bring  the  mediaeval  peoples  on 
and  evoke  in  them  an  articulate  power  to  fashion  and  create 
all  kinds  of  mediaeval  things.  But  with  antique  story  as 
with  other  antique  material,  the  Middle  Ages  had  to  turn  it 
over  and  absorb  it,  and  also  had  to  become  themselves  with 
power,  before  they  could  refashion  the  antique  theme  or 


224  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

create  along  its  lines.  All  this  had  taken  place  by  the 
middle  of  the  twelfth  century.  As  to  choice  of  matter, 
twelfth-century  refashioners  would  either  select  an  antique 
theme  suited  to  their  handling,  or  extract  what  appealed  to 
them  from  some  classic  story.  In  the  one  case  as  in  the 
other  they  might  recast,  enlarge,  or  invent  as  their  faculties 
permitted. 

Mediaeval  taste  took  naturally  to  the  degenerate  pro- 
ductions of  the  late  antique  or  transition  centuries.  The 
Greek  novels  seem  to  have  been  unknown,  except  the 
Apollonius  of  Tyre.1  But  the  congenially  preposterous  story 
of  Alexander  by  the  Pseudo-Callisthenes  was  available  in  a 
sixth-century  Latin  version,  and  was  made  much  of.  Equally 
popular  was  the  debasement  and  intentional  distortion  of  the 
Tale  of  Troy  in  the  work  of  "  Dares  "  and  "  Dictys  "  ;  other 
tales  were  aptly  presented  in  Ovid's  Metamorphoses ;  and 
the  stories  of  Hero  and  Leander,  of  Pyramus  and  Thisbe,  of 
Narcissus,  Orpheus,  Cadmus,  Daedalus,  were  widely  known 
and  often  told  in  the  Middle  Ages. 

The  mediaeval  writers  made  as  if  they  believed  these 
tales.  At  least  they  accepted  them  as  they  would  have 
their  own  audiences  accept  their  recasting,  with  little  reflec- 
tion as  to  whether  truth  or  fable.  But  was  the  work  of 
the  refashioners  conscious  fiction  ?  Scarcely,  when  it  simply 
recast  the  old  story  in  mediaevalizing  paraphrase  ;  but  when 
the  poet  went  on  and  wove  out  of  ten  lines  a  thousand,  he 
must  have  known  himself  devising. 

The  mediaeval  treatment  of  classic  themes  of  history  and 
epic  poetry  shows  how  the  Middle  Ages  refashioned  and 
reinspired  after  their  own  image  whatever  they  took  from 
the  antique.  If  it  was  partly  their  fault,  it  was  also  their 
unavoidable  misfortune  that  they  received  these  great  themes 
in  the  literary  distortions  of  the  transition  centuries.  Doubt- 
less they  preferred  encyclopaedic  dulness  to  epic  unity ; 

1  For  this  novel,  a  Greek  original  is  usually  assumed  ;  but  the  Middle  Ages 
had  it  only  in  a  sixth-century  Latin  version.  It  was  copied  inJourdaindeBlaie, 
a  chanson  de  geste.  See  Hagen,  Der  Roman  von  Konig  Apollonius  in  seinen 
vcrschiedenen  Bearbeitungen  (Berlin,  1878).  The  other  Greek  novels  doubtless 
would  have  been  as  popular  had  the  Middle  Ages  known  them.  In  fact,  the 
Ethiopica  of  Heliodorus,  and  others  of  these  novels,  did  become  popular  enough 
through  translations  in  the  sixteenth  century. 


CHAP,  xxxii      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  225 

they  loved  fantasy  rather  than  history,  and  of  course  de- 
lighted in  the  preposterous,  as  they  found  it  in  the  Latin 
version  of  the  Life  and  Deeds  of  Alexander.  As  for  the 
Tale  of  Troy,  the  real  Homer  never  reached  them  :  and 
perhaps  mediaeval  peoples  who  were  pleased,  like  Virgil's 
Romans,  to  draw  their  origins  from  Trojan  heroes,  would 
have  rejected  Homer's  story  just  as  "  Dares  "  and  "  Dictys," 
whoever  they  were,  did.1  The  true  mediaeval  rifacimenti, 
to  wit,  the  retellings  of  these  tales  in  the  vernacular,  mirror 
the  mediaeval  mind,  the  mediaeval  character,  and  the  whole 
panorama  of  mediaeval  life  and  fantasy. 

The  chief  epic  themes  drawn  from  the  antique  were  the 
Tales  of  Troy  and  Thebes  and  the  story  of  Aeneas.  In 
verse  and  prose  they  were  retold  in  the  vernacular  literatures 
and  also  in  mediaeval  Latin.2  We  shall,  however,  limit  our 
view  to  the  primary  Old  French  versions,  which  formed  the 
basis  of  compositions  in  German,  Italian,  English,  as  well  as 
French.  They  were  composed  between  1150  and  1170  by 
Norman- French  trouveres.  The  names  of  the  authors  of 
the  Roman  de  Thebes  and  the  Eneas  are  unknown  ;  the 
Roman  de  Troie  was  written  by  Benoit  de  St.  More. 

These  poems  present  a  universal  substitution  of  mediaeval 
manners  and  sentiment.  For  instance,  one  observes  that 
the  epic  participation  of  the  pagan  gods  is  minimized,  and 
in  the  Roman  de  Troie  even  discarded  ;  necromancy,  on  the 

1  Hugo  of  St.  Victor  says  in  the  twelfth  century  :  "  Apud  gentiles  primus 
Darhes  Phrygius  Trojanam  historian)  edidit,  quam  in  foliis  palmarum  ab  eo 
scriptam  esse  ferunt  "  (Erud.  didas.  iii.  cap.  3  ;  Migne  176,  col.  767). 

On  the  Trojan  origin  of  the  Franks,  Britons,  and  other  peoples,  see  Joly  in 
his  "  Benoit  de  St.  More  et  le  Roman  de  Troie,"  pp.  606-635  (Mem,  de  la  Soc.  des 
Antiquaires  de  Normandie,  vol.  vii.  3me  sen,  1869)  ;  also  Graf,  Roma  nella 
memoria,  etc.,  del  media  aevo.  The  Trojan  origin  of  the  Franks  was  a  common- 
place in  the  early  Middle  Ages,  see  e.g.  Aimoinus  of  Fleury  in  beginning  of 
his  Historia  Francorum,  Migne  139,  col.  637. 

On  Dares  the  Phrygian  and  Dictys  the  Cretan  see  "  Dares  and  Dictys,"  N.  El. 
Griffin  (Johns  Hopkins  Studies,  Baltimore,  1907)  ;  Taylor,  Classical  Heritage^ 
pp.  40  and  360  (authorities) ;  also,  generally,  L.  Constans,  "  L'Epope'e  antique," 
in  Petit  de  Julleville's  Histoire  de  la  langne  et  de  la  littfrature  francaise,  vol.  u 
(Paris,  1896). 

a  Joseph  of  Exeter  or  de  Iscano,  as  he  is  called,  at  the  close  of  the  twelfth* 
century  composed  a  Latin  poem  in  six  books  of  hexameters  entitled  De  bello 
Trojano.  It  is  one  of  the  best  mediaeval  productions  in  that  metre.  The 
author  followed  Dares,  but  his  diction  shows  a  study  of  Virgil,  Ovid,  Statius,  and 
Claudian.  See  J.  J.  Jusserand,  De  Josepho  Exoniensi  vel  Iscano  (Paris,  1877); 
A.  Sarradin,  De  Josepho  Iscano,  Belli  Trojani,  etc.  (Versailles,  1878). 

VOL.  II  O 


226  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

other  hand,  abounds.  A  more  interesting  change  is  the 
transformation  of  the  love  episode.  That  had  become  an 
epic  adjunct  in  Alexandrian  Greek  literature  as  early  as  the 
third  century  before  Christ.  It  existed  in  the  antique 
sources  of  all  these  mediaeval  poems.  Nevertheless  the 
romantic  narratives  of  courtly  love  in  the  latter  are  mediaeval 
creations. 

The  Eneas  relates  the  love  of  Lavinia  for  the  hero,  most 
correctly  reciprocated  by  him.  The  account  of  it  fills  four- 
teen hundred  lines,  and  has  no  precedent  in  Virgil's  poem, 
which  in  other  respects  is  followed  closely.  Lavinia  sees 
Aeneas  from  her  tower,  and  at  once  understands  a  previous 
discourse  of  her  mother  on  the  subject  of  love.  She  utters 
love's  plaints,  and  then  faints  because  Aeneas  does  not  seem 
to  notice  her.  After  which  she  passes  a  sleepless  night. 
The  next  morning  she  tells  her  mother,  who  is  furious,  since 
she  favours  Turnus  as  a  suitor.  The  girl  falls  senseless,  but 
coming  to  herself  when  alone,  she  recalls  love's  stratagems, 
and  attaches  a  letter  to  an  arrow  which  is  shot  so  as  to  fall 
at  Aeneas's  feet.  Aeneas  reads  the  letter,  and  turns  and 
salutes  the  fair  one  furtively,  that  his  followers  may  not  see. 
Then  he  enters  his  tent  and  falls  so  sick  with  love  that  he 
takes  to  his  bed.  The  next  day  Lavinia  watches  for  him, 
and  thinks  him  false,  till  at  last,  pale  and  feeble,  he  appears, 
and  her  heart  acquits  him  ;  amorous  glances  now  fly  back 
and  forth  between  them.1 

To  have  this  jaded  jilt  grow  sick  with  love  is  a  little  too 
much  for  us,  and  Aeneas  is  absurd  ;  but  the  universal  human 
touches  us  quite  otherwise  in  the  sweet  changing  heart  of 
Briseida  in  the  Roman  de  Troie.  There  is  no  ground  for 
denying  to  Benoit  of  St.  More  his  meed  of  fame  for  creating 
this  charming  person  and  starting  her  upon  her  career. 
Following  "  Dares,"  Benoit  calls  her  Briseida  ;  but  she 
becomes  the  Griseis  of  Boccaccio's  Filostrato  ;  and  what 
good  man  does  not  sigh  and  love  her  under  the  name  of 
Cressid  in  Chaucer's  poem,  though  he  may  deplore  her 
somewhat  brazen  heartlessness  in  Shakespeare's  play. 

It  is   not  given  to   all  men,  or  women,  in  presence  or 
absence,  in  life  and  death,  to  love  once  and  forever.      One  has 
1  Eneas,  ed.  by  Salverda  de  Grave  (Halle,  1891),  lines  7857-9262. 


CHAP,  xxxn      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  227 

the  stable  heart,  another's  fancy  is  quickly  turned.  Sometimes, 
of  course,  our  moral  sledge-hammers  should  be  brought  to 
bear  ;  but  a  little  hopeless  smile  may  be  juster,  as  we  sigh 
"  she  (it  is  more  often  "  he  ")  couldn't  help  it."  Such  was 
Briseida,  the  sweet,  loving,  helpless — coquette  ?  jilt  ?  flirt  ? 
these  words  are  all  too  belittling  to  tell  her  truly.  Benoit 
knew  better.  He  took  her  dry-as-dust  characterization  from 
"  Dares  " ;  he  gave  it  life,  and  then  let  his  fair  creature  do 
just  the  things  she  might,  without  ceasing  to  be  she. 

The  abject  "  Dares "  (Benoit  may  have  had  a  better 
story  under  that  name)  in  his  catalogue  of  characters  has 
this  :  "  Briseidam  formosam,  alta  statura,  candidam,  capillo 
flavo  et  molli,  superciliis  junctis,  oculis  venustis,  corpore 
aequali,  blandam,  affabilem,  verecundam,  animo  simplici  [O 
ye  gods  !],  piam."  He  makes  no  other  mention  of  this  tall, 
graceful  girl,  with  her  lovely  eyes  and  eyebrows  meeting 
above,  her  modest,  pleasant  mien,  and  simple  soul ;  for 
simple  she  was,  and  therein  lies  the  direst  bit  of  truth  about 
her.  For  it  is  simple  and  uncomplex  to  take  the  colour  of 
new  scenes  and  faces,  and  of  new  proffered  love  when  the 
old  is  far  away. 

Now  see  what  Benoit  does  with  this  dust  :  Briseida  is 
the  daughter  of  Calchas,  a  Trojan  seer  who  had  passed  over 
to  the  Greeks,  warned  by  Apollo.  He  is  in  the  Grecian 
host,  but  his  daughter  is  in  Troy.  Benoit  says,  she  was 
engaging,  lovelier  and  fairer  than  the  fleur  de  Us — though 
her  eyebrows  grew  rather  too  close  together.  "  Beaux  yeux  " 
she  had,  "  de  grande  maniere,"  and  charming  was  her  talk,  and 
faultless  her  breeding  as  her  dress.  Much  was  she  loved 
and  much  she  loved,  although  her  heart  changed  ;  and  she 
was  very  loving,  simple,  and  kind  : 

"  Molt  fu  amee  et  molt  ameit, 
Mes  sis  corages  li  changeit ; 
Et  si  esteit  molt  amorose, 
Simple  et  almosniere  et  pitose."  1 

Calchas  wants  his  daughter,  and  Priam  decides  to  send 

1  Roman  de  Trote,  5257-5270,  ed.  Joly  ;  "  Benoit  de  St.  More  et  le  Roman 
de  Troie,  etc.,"  Mem.  de  la  Soc.  des  Antiquaires  de  Normandie,  vol.  vii.  3me  ser., 
1869.  On  its  sources  see  also  L.  Constans,  in  Petit  de  Julleville's  Hist,  de  la 
lang ue  et  de  la  Hit.  fran$ aise,  vol.  i.  pp.  188-220. 


228  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

her.  There  is  truce  between  the  armies.  Troilus,  Troy's 
glorious  young  knight,  matchless  in  beauty,  in  arms  second 
only  to  his  brother  Hector,  is  beside  himself.  He  loves 
Briseida,  and  she  him.  What  tears  and  protestations,  and 
what  vows  !  But  the  girl  must  go  to  her  father. 

On  the  morrow  the  young  dame  has  other  cares — to  see 
to  the  packing  of  her  lovely  dresses  and  put  on  the  loveliest 
of  them  ;  over  all  she  threw  a  mantle  inwoven  with  the 
flowers  of  Paradise.  The  Trojan  ladies  add  their  tears  to 
the  damsel's  ;  for  she  is  ready  to  die  of  grief  at  leaving  her 
lover.  Benoit  assures  us  that  she  will  not  weep  long ;  it  is 
not  woman's  way,  he  continues  somewhat  mediaevally. 

The  brilliant  cortege  is  met  by  one  still  more  distinguished 
from  the  Grecian  host.  Troilus  must  turn  back,  and  the 
lady  passes  to  the  escort  of  Diomede.  She  was  young  ;  he 
was  impetuous  ;  he  looks  once,  and  then  greets  her  with  a 
torrential  declaration  of  love.  He  never  loved  before  !  !  He 
is  hers,  body  and  soul  and  high  emprize.  Briseida  speaks 
him  fair : 

"  At  this  time  it  would  be  wrong  for  me  to  say  a  word  of  love. 
You  would  deem  me  light  indeed  !  Why,  I  hardly  know  you  !  and 
girls  so  often  are  deceived  by  men.  What  you  have  said  cannot 
move  a  heart  grieving,  like  mine,  to  lose  my — friend,  and  others 
whom  I  may  never  see  again.  For  one  of  my  station  to  speak  to 
you  of  love  !  I  have  no  mind  for  that.  Yet  you  seem  of  such  rank 
and  prowess  that  no  girl  under  heaven  ought  to  refuse  you.  It  is 
only  that  I  have  no  heart  to  give.  If  I  had,  surely  I  could  hold 
none  dearer  than  you.  But  I  have  neither  the  thought  nor^  power, 
and  may  God  never  give  it  to  me  ! " l 

One  need  not  tell  the  flash  of  joy  that  then  was 
Diomede's,  nor  the  many  troubles  that  were  to  be  his  before 
at  last  Briseida  finds  that  her  heart  has  indeed  turned  to  this 
new  lover,  always  at  hand,  courting  danger  for  her  sake,  and 
at  last  wounded  almost  to  death  by  Troilus's  spear.  The  end 
of  the  story  is  assured  in  her  first  discreetly  halting  words. 

Enough  has  been  said  to  show  how  far  Benoit  was  from 
Omers  qui  fu  clers  merveillos,  and  what  a  story  in  some 
thirty  thousand  lines  he  has  made  of  the  dry  data  of  "  Dares  " 
and  "  Dictys."  His  Briseida,  with  her  changing  heart,  was  to 

1  Roman  de  Troie,  13235  sqq. 


CHAP,  xxxn      MEDIAEVAL  LATIN  VERSE  229 

rival  steadier -minded  but  not  more  lovable  women  of 
mediaeval  fiction — Iseult  or  Guinevere.  And  although  the 
far-off  echo  of  Briseid's  name  comes  from  the  ancient  cen- 
turies, none  the  less  she  is  as  entirely  a  mediaeval  creation 
as  Lancelot's  or  Tristram's  queen.  Thus  the  Middle  Ages 
took  the  antique  narrative,  and  created  for  themselves  within 
the  altered  lines  of  the  old  tale.1 

The  transformation  of  themes  of  epic  story  in  vernacular 
mediaeval  versions  is  paralleled  by  mediaeval  refashionings 
of  historical  subjects  which  had  been  fictionized  before  the 
antique  period  closed.  A  chief  example  is  the  romance  of 
Alexander  the  Great.  The  antique  source  was  the  con- 
queror's Life  and  Deeds,  written  by  one  who  took  the 
name  of  Alexander's  physician,  Callisthenes.  The  author 
was  some  Egyptian  Greek  of  the  first  century  after  Christ. 
His  work  is  preposterous  from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  and 
presents  a  succession  of  impossible  marvels  performed  by 
the  somewhat  indistinguishable  heroes  of  the  story.  Its 
qualities  were  reflected  in  the  Latin  versions,  which  in  turn 
were  drawn  upon  by  the  Old  French  rhyming  romancers. 

1  The  Roman  de  Thebes,  the  third  of  these  large  poems,  is  temperate  in  the 
adaptation  and  extension  of  its  theme.  Its  ten  thousand  or  more  lines  of  eight- 
syllable  rhyming  verse  are  no  longer  than  the  Thebaid  of  Statius,  and  as  a  narra- 
tive make  quite  as  interesting  reading.  Statius,  who  lived  under  Domitian, 
was  a  poet  of  considerable  skill,  but  with  no  genius  for  the  construction  of  an 
epic.  His  work  reads  well  in  patches,  but  does  not  move.  Several  books  are 
taken  up  with  getting  the  Argive  army  in  motion,  and  when  the  reader  and 
Jove  himself  are  wearied,  it  moves  on — to  the  next  halt.  And  so  forth  through 
the  whole  twelve  books.  See  Nisard,  j?tudes  surles  poetes  latins  de  la  decadence, 
vol.  i.  p.  261  sqq.  (2nd  ed.,  Paris,  1849)  ;  Pichon,  Hist,  de  la  litt.  lat.  p.  606 
(2nd  ed.,  Paris,  1898).  The  Roman  de  Thebes  was  not  drawn  directly  from  the 
work  of  Statius,  but  through  the  channels,  apparently,  of  intervening  prose 
compendia.  It  also  evidently  drew  from  other  works,  as  it  contains  matters  not 
found  in  Statius's  Thebaid.  It  is  easy,  if  not  inspiring  reading.  The  style  is 
clear,  and  the  narrative  moves.  Of  course  it  presents  a  general  mediaevalizing  of 
the  manners  of  Statius's  somewhat  fustian  antique  heroes ;  it  introduces  courtly 
love  (e.g.  the  love  between  Parthonopeus  and  Antigone,  lines  3793  sqq.\  mediaeval 
commonplaces,  and  feudal  customs.  It  drops  the  antique  conception  of  accursed 
fate  as  a  fundamental  motive  of  the  plot,  substituting  in  its  place  the  varied  play 
of  romantic  and  chivalric  sentiment. 

Leopold  Constans  has  made  the  Roman  de  Thebes  his  own.  Having  followed 
the  story  of  Oedipus  through  the  Middle  Ages  in  his  Ltgende  cTCEtiipe,  etc.  (Paris, 
1881)  he  has  corrected  some  of  his  views  in  his  critical  edition  of  the  poem,  "  Le 
Roman  de  Thebes,"  2  vols.,  1890  (Soc.  des  anciens  textes  franfais),  and  has 
treated  the  same  matters  more  popularly  in  Petit  de  Julleville's  Hist,  de  la  languc  et 
de  la  litt.  francaise,  vol.  i.  pp.  170-188.  These  works  fully  discuss  the  sources,  date, 
and  language  of  the  poem,  and  the  later  redactions  in  prose  and  verse  through 
Europe. 


230  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

The  latter  mediaevalized  and  feudalized  the  tale.  Nor  were 
they  halted  by  any  absurdity,  or  conscious  of  the  character- 
lessness of  the  puppets  of  the  tale.1 

Further  to  pursue  the  fortunes  of  antique  themes  in 
mediaeval  literature  would  lead  us  beyond  bounds.  Yet 
mention  should  be  made  of  the  handling  of  minor  narratives, 
as  the  Metamorphoses  of  Ovid.  They  were  very  popular, 
and  from  the  twelfth  century  on,  paraphrases  or  refashionings 
were  made  of  many  of  them.  These  added  to  the  old  tale 
the  interesting  mediaeval  element  of  the  moral  or  didactic 
allegory.  The  most  prodigious  instance  of  this  moralizing 
of  Ovid  was  the  work  of  Chretien  L£gouais,  a  French 
Franciscan  who  wrote  at  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth 
century.  In  some  seventy  thousand  lines  he  presented  the 
stories  of  the  Metamorphoses,  the  allegories  which  he 
discovered  in  them,  and  the  moral  teaching  of  the  same.2 

Equally  interesting  was  the  application  of  allegory  to 
Ovid's  Ars  amatoria.  The  first  translators  treated  this 
frivolous  production  as  an  authoritative  treatise  upon  the  art 
of  winning  love.  So  it  was  perhaps,  only  Ovid  was  amusing 
himself  by  making  a  parable  of  his  youthful  diversions. 
Mediaeval  imitators  changed  the  habits  of  the  gilded  youth 
of  Rome  to  suit  the  society  of  their  time.  But  they  did 
more,  being  votaries  of  courtly  love.  Such  love  in  the 
Middle  Ages  had  its  laws  which  were  prone  to  deduce  their 
lineage  from  Ovid's  verses.  But  its  uplifted  spirit  revelled 
in  symbolism  ;  and  tended  to  change  to  spiritual  allegory 
whatever  authority  it  imagined  itself  based  upon,  even  though 
the  authority  were  a  book  as  dissolute,  when  seriously 
considered,  as  the  Ars  amatoria.  It  is  strange  to  think  of 
this  poem  as  the  very  far  off  street-walking  prototype  of  De 
Lorris's  Roman  de  la  rose. 

1  On    Pseudo  -  Callisthenes    see  Paul  Meyer,  Alexandre  le   Grand  dans  la 
literature  franfaise  du  moyen  dge  (Paris,  1 886) ;  Taylor,  Classical  Heritage,  etc., 
pp.  38  and  360.    In  the  last  quarter  of  the  twelfth  century  Walter  of  Lille,  called 
also   Walter  of  Chatillon,  wrote  his  Alexandreis  in  ten  books  of  easy-flowing 
hexameters.     It  is  printed  in  Migne,  Pat.  Lat.  209,  col.  463-572.     Cf.  ante, 
page   192.      His  work  shows  that    a  mediaeval    scholar- poet  could    reproduce 
a  historical    theme  quite  soberly.       His    poem   was    read  by  other  bookmen ; 
but  the  Alexander  of  the  Middle  Ages  remained  the  Alexander  of  the  fabulous 
vernacular  versions. 

2  See  Gaston  Paris,  "  Chretien  Le"gouais  et  autres  imitateurs  d'Ovide,"  Hist, 
lift,  de  la  France,  t.  xxix.,  pp.  455-525. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 

MEDIAEVAL    APPROPRIATION    OF    THE    ROMAN    LAW 

I.  THE  FONTES  JURIS  CIVILIS. 

II.  ROMAN  AND  BARBARIAN  CODIFICATION. 

III.  THE  MEDIAEVAL  APPROPRIATION. 

IV.  CHURCH  LAW. 

V.  POLITICAL  THEORIZING. 

CLASSICAL  studies,  and  the  gradual  development  of  mediaeval 
prose  and  verse,  discussed  in  the  preceding  chapters,  illustrate 
modes  of  mediaeval  progress.  But  of  all  examples  of 
mediaeval  intellectual  growth  through  the  appropriation  of 
the  antique,  none  is  more  completely  illuminating  than  the 
mediaeval  use  of  Roman  law.  As  with  patristic  theology 
and  antique  philosophy,  the  Roman  law  was  crudely  taken 
and  then  painfully  learned,  till  in  the  end,  vitally  and  broadly 
mastered,  it  became  even  a  means  and  mode  of  mediaeval 
thinking.  Its  mediaeval  appropriation  illustrates  the  legal 
capacity  of  the  Middle  Ages  and  their  concern  with  law  both 
as  a  practical  business  and  an  intellectual  interest. 


I 

Primitive  law  is  practical ;  it  develops  through  the 
adjustment  of  social  exigencies.  Gradually,  however,  in  an 
intelligent  community  which  is  progressing  under  favouring 
influences,  some  definite  consciousness  of  legal  propriety, 
utility,  or  justice,  makes  itself  articulate  in  statements  of 
general  principles  of  legal  right  and  in  a  steady  endeavour 
to  adjust  legal  relationships  and  adjudicate  actual  con- 
troversies in  accordance.  This  endeavour  to  formulate  just 

231 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

and  useful  principles,  and  decide  novel  questions  in  accordance 
with  them,  and  enunciate  new  rules  in  harmony  with  the 
body  of  the  existing  law,  is  jurisprudence,  which  thus  works 
always  for  concord,  co-ordination,  and  system. 

There  was  a  jurisprudential  element  in  the  early  law  of 
Rome.  The  Twelve  Tables  are  trenchant  announcements 
of  rules  of  procedure  and  substantial  law.  They  have  the 
form  of  the  general  imperative :  "  Thus  let  it  be ;  If  one 
summons  [another]  to  court,  let  him  go;  As  a  man  shall 
have  appointed  by  his  Will,  so  let  it  be ;  When  one  makes  a 
bond  or  purchase,1  as  the  tongue  shall  have  pronounced  it,  so 
let  it  be."  These  statements  of  legal  rules  are  far  from 
primitive ;  they  are  elastic,  inclusive,  and  suited  to  form  the 
foundation  of  a  large  and  free  legal  development  And  the 
consistency  with  which  the  law  of  debt  was  carried  out  to 
its  furthest  cruel  conclusion,  the  permitted  division  of  the 
body  of  the  defaulting  debtor  among  several  creditors,2  gave 
earnest  of  the  logic  which  was  to  shape  the  Roman  law  in 
its  humaner  periods.  Moreover,  there  is  jurisprudence  in 
the  arrangement  of  the  Laws  of  the  Twelve  Tables.  Never- 
theless the  jurisprudential  element  is  still  but  inchoate. 

The  Romans  were  endowed  with  a  genius  for  law. 
Under  the  later  Republic  and  the  Empire,  the  minds  of 
their  jurists  were  trained  and  broadened  by  Greek  philosophy 
and  the  study  of  the  laws  of  Mediterranean  peoples  ;  Rome 
was  becoming  the  commercial  as  well  as  social  and  political 
centre  of  the  world.  From  this  happy  combination  of  causes 
resulted  the  most  comprehensive  body  of  law  and  the  noblest 
jurisprudence  ever  evolved  by  a  people.  The  great  juris- 
consults of  the  Empire,  working  upon  the  prior  labours  of 
long  lines  of  older  praetors  and  jurists,  perfected  a  body  of 
law  of  well-nigh  universal  applicability,  and  throughout 
logically  consistent  with  general  principles  of  law  and  equity, 
recognized  as  fundamental.  These  were  in  part  suggested 
by  Greek  philosophy,  especially  by  Stoicism  as  adapted  to 
the  Roman  temperament.  They  represented  the  best  ethics, 

1  The  words  "  nexum  mandphimqne "  are  more  formal  and  special  than  the 
English  given  above. 

*  The  early  law  had  as  yet  devised  no  execution  against  the  debtor's 
property. 


CHAP,  xxxin     ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  233 

the  best  justice  of  the  time.  As  principles  of  law,  however, 
they  would  have  hung  in  the  air,  had  not  the  practical  as 
well  as  theorizing  genius  of  the  jurisconsults  been  equal  to 
the  task  of  embodying  them  in  legal  propositions,  and  apply- 
ing the  latter  to  the  decision  of  cases.  Thus  was  evolved 
a  body  of  practical  rules  of  law,  controlled,  co-ordinated, 
and,  as  one  may  say,  universalized  through  the  constant 
logical  employment  of  sound  principles  of  legal  justice.1 

The  Roman  law,  broadly  taken,  was  heterogeneous  in 
origin,  and  complex  in  its  modes  of  growth.  The  great 
jurisconsults  of  the  Empire  recognized  its  diversity  of  source, 
and  distinguished  its  various  characteristics  accordingly. 
They  assumed  (and  this  was  a  pure  assumption)  that  every 
civilized  people  lived  under  two  kinds  of  law,  the  one  its 
own,  springing  from  some  recognized  law-making  source 
within  the  community  ;  the  other  the  jus  gentium,  or  the 
law  inculcated  among  all  peoples  by  natural  reason  or 
common  needs. 

The  supposed  origin  of  the  jus  gentium  was  not  simple. 
Back  in  the  time  of  the  Republic  it  had  become  necessary 
to  recognize  a  law  for  the  many  strangers  in  Rome,  who  were 
not  entitled  to  the  protection  of  Rome's  jus  civile.  The 
edict  of  the  praetor  Peregrinus  covered  their  substantial 
rights,  and  sanctioned  simple  modes  of  sale  and  lease  which 
did  not  observe  the  forms  prescribed  by  the  jus  civile.  So 
this  edict  became  the  chief  source  of  \ht  jus  gentium  so-called, 
to  wit,  of  those  liberal  rules  of  law  which  ignored  the 
peculiar  formalities  of  the  stricter  law  of  Rome.  Probably 
foreign  laws,  that  is  to  say,  the  commercial  customs  of  the 
Mediterranean  world,  were  in  fact  recognized ;  and  their 
study  led  to  a  perception  of  elements  common  to  the  laws 
of  many  peoples.  At  all  events,  in  course  of  time  the  jus 
gentium  came  to  be  regarded  as  consisting  of  universal  rules 
of  law  which  all  peoples  might  naturally  follow. 

1  The  jurisconsults  whose  opinions  were  authoritative  flourished  in  the  second 
and  third  centuries.  The  great  five  were  Gaius,  Julian,  Papinian,  Ulpian, 
Paulus.  Inasmuch  as  these  jurisconsults  of  the  Empire  were  members  of  the 
Imperial  (or,  later,  Praetorian)  Auditory,  they  were  judges  in  a  court  of  last 
resort,  and  their  "responsa"  were  decisions  of  actual  cases.  They  subsequently 
"  digested  "  them  in  their  books.  See  Munroe  Smith,  "  Problems  of  Roman  Legal 
History,"  Columbia  Law  Review,  1904,  p.  538. 


234  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

The  recognition  of  these  simple  modes  of  contracting 
obligations,  and  perhaps  the  knowledge  that  certain  rules  of 
law  obtained  among  many  peoples,  fostered  the  concep- 
tion of  common  or  natural  justice,  which  human  reason 
was  supposed  to  inculcate  everywhere.  Such  a  concep- 
tion could  not  fail  to  spring  up  in  the  minds  of  Roman 
jurists  who  were  educated  in  Stoical  philosophy,  the  ethics 
of  which  had  much  to  say  of  a  common  human  nature. 
Indeed  the  idea  naturalis  ratio  was  in  the  air,  and  the 
thought  of  common  elements  of  law  and  justice  which 
naturalis  ratio  inter  omnes  homines  constituit,  lay  so  close  at 
hand  that  it  were  perhaps  a  mistake  to  try  to  trace  it  to 
any  single  source.  Practically  the  jus  gentium  became 
identical  with  jus  naturale,  which  Ulpian  imagined  as  taught 
by  nature  to  all  animals  ;  the  jus  gentium,  however,  belonged 
to  men  alone.1 

Thus  rules  which  were  conceived  as  those  of  the  jus 
gentium  came  to  represent  the  principles  of  rational  law,  and 
impressed  themselves  upon  the  development  of  the  jus  civile. 
They  informed  the  whole  growth  and  application  of  Roman 
law  with  a  breadth  of  legal  reason.  And  conceptions  of  a 
jus  naturale  and  a  jus  gentium  became  cognate  legal  fictions, 
by  the  aid  of  which  praetor  and  jurisconsult  might  justify 
the  validity  of  informal  modes  of  contract.  In  their  appli- 
cation, judge  and  jurist  learned  how  and  when  to  disregard 
the  formal  requirements  of  the  older  and  stricter  Roman  law, 
and  found  a  way  to  the  recognition  of  what  was  just  and 
convenient.  These  fictions  agreed  with  the  supposed  nature 
and  demands  of  aequitas,  which  is  the  principle  of  progressive 
and  discriminating  legal  justice.  Law  itself  (Jus)  was  iden- 

1  Dig.  i.  I  ("De  Just,  et  jure")  I.  See  Savigny,  System  deshcutigen  romischen 
Rechts,  i.  p.  109  sqq.  Apparently  some  of  the  jurists  (e.g.  Gaius,  Ins.  i.  i)  draw 
no  substantial  distinctions  between  they«j  naturale  and  the/wj  gentium.  Others 
seem  to  distinguish.  With  the  latter,  jus  naturale  might  represent  natural  or 
instinctive  principles  of  justice  common  to  all  men,  and  jus  gentium,  the  laws 
and  customs  which  experience  had  led  men  to  adopt.  For  instance,  libertas  is 
jure  naturali,  while  dominatio  or  servitus  is  introduced  ex  gentium  jure  (Dig. 
i.  5,  4  ;  Dig.  xii.  6,  64).  Jus  gentium  represented  common  expediency,  but  its 
institutions  (e.g.  servitus)  might  or  might  not  accord  with  natural  justice.  For 
manumissio  as  well  as  servitus  was  ex  jure  gentium  (Dig.  i.  I,  4),  and  so  were 
common  modes  and  principles  of  contract.  Ulpian's  notion  of  the  jus  naturale 
as  pertaining  to  all  animals,  and  jus  gentium  as  belonging  to  men  alone,  was  but 
a  catching  classification,  and  did  not  represent  any  commonly  followed  distinction. 


CHAP,  xxxm     ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  235 

tical  with  aequitas  conceived  (after  Celsus's  famous  phrase) 
as  the  ars  boni  et  aequi. 

The  Roman  law  proper,  the  jus  civile,  had  multifarious 
sources.  First  the  leges,  enacted  by  the  people  ;  then  the 
plebiscita,  sanctioned  by  the  Plebs  ;  the  senatus  consulta, 
passed  by  the  Senate ;  the  constitutiones  and  rescripta  * 
principum,  ordained  by  the  Emperor.  Excepting  the 
rescripta,  these  (to  cover  them  with  a  modern  expression) 
were  statutory.  They  were  laws  announced  at  a  specific 
time  to  meet  some  definite  exigency.  Under  the  Empire,  the 
constitutiones  prindpum  became  the  most  important,  and 
then  practically  the  only  kind  of  legal  enactment. 

Two  or  three  other  sources  of  Roman  law  remain  for 
mention  :  first,  the  edicta  of  those  judicial  magistrates, 
especially  the  praetors,  who  had  the  authority  to  issue  them. 
In  his  edict  the  praetor  announced  what  he  held  to  be  the 
law  and  how  he  would  apply  it.  The  edict  of  each  successive 
praetor  was  a  renewal  and  expansion  or  modification  of 
that  of  his  predecessor.  Papinian  calls  this  source  of  law 
the  "jus  praetorium,  which  the  praetors  have  introduced  to 
aid,  supplement,  or  correct  the  jus  civile  for  the  sake  of 
public  utility." 

Next,  the  responsa  or  auctoritas  jurisprudentium,  by 
which  were  intended  the  judicial  decisions  and  the  authority 
of  the  legal  writings  of  the  famous  jurisconsults.  Imperial 
rescripts  recognized  these  responsa  as  authoritative  for  the 
Roman  courts  ;  and  some  of  the  emperors  embodied 
portions  of  them  in  formally  promulgated  collections, 
thereby  giving  them  the  force  of  law.  Justinian's  Digest 
is  the  great  example  of  this  method  of  codification.2  One 
need  scarcely  add  that  the  authoritative  writings  and 
responsa  of  the  jurisconsults  extended  and  applied  the  jus 
gentium,  that  is  to  say,  the  rules  and  principles  of  the  best- 
considered  jurisprudence,  freed  so  far  as  might  be  from 

1  Constitutio   is   the   more  general  term,  embracing  whatever   the  emperor 
announces   in  writing  as   a   law.     The  term  rescript    properly   applies    to  the 
emperor's  written  answers  to  questions  addressed  to  him  by  magistrates,  and  to 
the  decisions  of  his  Auditory  rendered  in  his  name. 

2  For   this    whole   matter,    see    vol.    i.    of   Savigny's    System   des   heutigen 
romischen  Rechts ;  Gaius,  Institutes,  the  opening  paragraphs  ;  and  the  first  two 
chapters  of  the  first  Book  of  Justinian's  Digest, 


236  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

the  formal  peculiarities  of  the  jus  civile  strictly  speaking. 
And  the  same  was  true  of  the  praetorian  edict.  The 
Roman  law  also  gave  legal  effect  to  inveterata  consuetude, 
the  law  which  is  sanctioned  by  custom  :  "  for  since  the 
laws  bind  us  because  established  by  the  decision  of  the 
people,  those  unwritten  customs  which  the  people  have 
approved  are  binding."  * 

Simply  naming  the  sources  of  Roman  law  indicates  the 
ways  in  which  it  grew,  and  the  part  taken  by  the  juris- 
consults in  its  development  as  a  universal  and  elastic 
system.  It  was  due  to  their  labours  that  legal  principles 
were  logically  carried  out  through  the  mass  of  enactments 
arid  decisions  ;  that  is,  it  was  due  to  their  large  considera- 
tion of  the  body  of  existing  law,  that  each  novel  decision — 
each  case  of  first  impression — should  be  a  true  legal 
deduction,  and  not  a  solecism  ;  and  that  even  the  new 
enactments  should  not  create  discordant  law.  And  it  was 
due  to  their  labours  that  as  rules  of  law  were  called  forth, 
they  were  stated  clearly  and  in  terms  of  well-nigh  universal 
applicability. 

The  Laws  of  the  Twelve  Tables  showed  the  action  of 
legal  intelligence  and  the  result  of  much  experience.  They 
sanctioned  a  large  contractual  freedom,  if  within  strict 
forms ;  they  stated  broadly  the  right  of  testamentary 
disposition.  Many  of  their  provisions,  which  commonly 
were  but  authoritative  recognitions,  were  expressions  of 
basic  legal  principles,  the  application  of  which  might  be 
extended  to  meet  the  needs  of  advancing  civic  life.  And 
through  the  enlargement  of  this  fundamental  collection  of 
law,  or  deviating  from  it  in  accordance  with  principles  which 
it  implicitly  embodied,  the  jurists  of  the  Republic  and  the 
first  centuries  of  the  Empire  formed  and  developed  a  body 
of  private  and  public  law  from  which  the  jurisprudence  of 
Europe  and  America  has  never  even  sought  to  free  itself. 

Roman  jurisprudence  was  finally  incorporated  in 
Justinian's  Digest,  which  opens  with  a  statement  of  the 
most  general  principles,  even  those  which  would  have 
hung  in  the  air  but  for  the  Roman  genius  of  logical  and 
practical  application  to  the  concrete  instance.  "  Jus  est  ars 

1  Dig.  i.  3,  32. 


CHAP,  xxxin     ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  237 

boni  et  aequi  " — it  is  better  to  leave  these  words  untranslated, 
such  is  the  wealth  of  significance  and  connotation  which 
they  have  acquired.  "  Justitia  est  constans  et  perpetua 
voluntas  jus  suum  cuique  tribuendi.  Juris  praecepta  sunt 
haec :  honeste  vivere,  alterum  non  laedere,  suum  cuique 
tribuere.  Jurisprudentia  est  divinarum  atque  humanarum 
rerum  notitia,  justi  atque  injusti  scientia." 

The  first  pregnant  phrase  is  from  the  older  jurist 
Celsus  ;  the  longer  passage  is  by  the  later  Ulpian,  and 
may  be  taken  as  an  expansion  of  the  first  Both  the  one 
and  the  other  expressed  the  most  advanced  and  philosophic 
ethics  of  the  ancient  world.  They  are  both  in  the  first 
chapter  of  the  Digest,  wherein  they  become  enactments. 
An  extract  from  Paulus  follows :  ''''Jus  has  different  mean- 
ings ;  that  which  is  always  aequum  ac  bonum  is  called  jus, 
to  wit,  the  jus  naturale :  jus  also  means  the  jus  civile,  that 
which  is  expedient  (utile)  for  all  or  most  in  any  state. 
And  in  our  state  we  have  also  the  praetorian  jus''  This 
passage  indicates  the  course  of  the  development  of  the 
Roman  law  :  the  fundamental  and  ceaselessly  growing  core 
of  specifically  Roman  law,  the  jus  civile ;  its  continual 
equitable  application  and  enlargement,  which  was  the 
praetor's  contribution  ;  and  the  constant  application  of  the 
aequum  ac  bonum,  observed  perhaps  in  legal  rules  common 
to  many  peoples,  but  more  surely  existing  in  the  high 
reasoning  of  jurists  instructed  in  the  best  ethics  and 
philosophy  of  the  ancient  world,  and  learned  and  practised 
in  the  law. 

Now  notice  some  of  the  still  general,  but  distinctly 
legal,  rather  than  ethical,  rules  collected  in  the  Digest : 
The  laws  cannot  provide  specifically  for  every  case  that 
may  arise  ;  but  when  their  intent  is  plain,  he  who  is 
adjudicating  a  cause  should  proceed  ad  similia,  and  thus 
declare  the  law  in  the  case.1  Here  is  stated  the  general 
and  important  formative  principle,  that  new  cases  should 
be  decided  consistently  and  eleganter,  which  means  logically 
and  in  accordance  with  established  rules.  Yet  legal 
solecisms  will  exist,  perhaps  in  a  statute  or  in  some  rule 
of  law  evoked  by  a  special  exigency.  Their  application 

1  Dig.  i.  3,  10,  and  12. 


238  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

is  not  to  be  extended.  For  them  the  rule  is :  "  What  has 
been  accepted  contra  rationem  juris,  is  not  to  be  drawn  out 
(producendum}  to  its  consequences,"  l  or  again  :  "  What  was 
introduced  not  by  principle,  but  at  first  through  error,  does 
not  obtain  in  like  cases."  2 

These  are  true  principles  making  for  the  consistent 
development  of  a  body  of  law.  Observe  the  scope  and 
penetration  of  some  other  general  rules  :  "  Nuptias  non 
concubitus,  sed  consensus  facit."  *  This  goes  to  the  legal 
root  of  the  whole  conception  of  matrimony,  and  is  still  the 
recognized  starting-point  of  all  law  upon  that  subject. 
Again  :  "  An  agreement  to  perform  what  is  impossible  will 
not  sustain  a  suit."  4  This  is  still  everywhere  a  fundamental 
principle  of  the  law  of  contracts.  Again :  "  No  one  can 
transfer  to  another  a  greater  right  than  he  would  have 
himself,"5  another  principle  of  fundamental  validity,  but, 
of  course,  like  all  rules  of  law  subject  in  its  application  to 
the  qualifying  operation  of  other  legal  rules. 

Roman  jurisprudence  recognized  the  danger  of  definition  : 
"  Omnis  definitio  in  jure  civili  periculosa  est."  e  Yet  it  could 
formulate  admirable  ones ;  for  example :  "  Inheritance  is 
succession  to  the  sum  total  (universum  jus}  of  the  rights  of 
the  deceased." 7  This  definition  excels  in  the  completeness 
of  its  legal  view  of  the  matter,  and  is  not  injured  by  the 
obvious  omission  to  exclude  those  personal  privileges  and 
rights  of  the  deceased  which  terminate  upon  his  death. 

Thus  we  note  the  sources  and  constructive  principles 
of  the  Roman  law.  We  observe  that  while  certain  of  the 
former  might  be  called  "  statutory,"  the  chief  means  and 
method  of  development  was  the  declarative  edict  of  the 
praetor  and  the  trained  labour  of  the  jurisconsults.  In 
these  appears  the  consummate  genius  of  Roman  juris- 
prudence, a  jurisprudence  matchless  in  its  rational  conception 
of  principles  of  justice  which  were  rooted  in  a  philosophic 
consideration  of  human  life  ;  matchless  also  in  its  carrying 
through  of  such  principles  into  the  body  of  the  law  and 
the  decision  of  every  case. 

1  Dig.  i.  3,  14.         2  Ibid.  39.         3  Dig.  1.  17,  30. 
4  Dig.  1.  17,  31.         5  Ibid.  54.          6  Ibid.  202. 
7  Dig.  1.  1 6,  24;  Ibid.  17,  62. 


CHAP,  xxxni      ROMAN   AND  CANON  LAW  239 


II 

The  Roman  law  was  the  creation  of  the  genius  of 
Rome  and  also  the  product  of  the  complex  civilization  of 
which  Rome  was  the  kinetic  centre.  As  the  Roman  power 
crumbled,  Teutonic  invaders  established  kingdoms  within 
territories  formerly  subject  to  Rome  and  to  her  law — a 
law,  however,  which  commonly  had  been  modified  to  suit 
the  peoples  of  the  provinces.  Those  territories  retained 
their  population  of  provincials.  The  invaders,  Burgundians, 
Visigoths,  and  Franks,  planting  themselves  in  the  different 
parts  of  Gaul,  brought  their  own  law,  under  which  they 
continued  to  live,  but  which  they  did  not  force  upon  the 
provincial  population.  On  the  contrary,  Burgundian  and 
Visigothic  kings  promulgated  codes  of  Roman  law  for  the 
latter.  And  these  represent  the  forms  in  which  the  Roman 
law  first  passed  over  into  modes  of  acceptance  and  applica- 
tion no  longer  fully  Roman,  but  partly  Teutonic  and 
incipiently  mediaeval.  They  exemplify,  moreover,  the  fact, 
so  many  aspects  of  which  have  been  already  noticed,  of 
transitional  and  partly  barbarized  communities  drawing 
from  a  greater  past  according  to  their  simpler  needs. 

One  may  say  that  these  codes  carried  on  processes  of 
decline  from  the  full  creative  genius  of  Roman  jurisprudence, 
which  had  irrevocably  set  in  under  the  Empire  in  the 
fourth  and  fifth  centuries.  The  decline  lay  in  a  weakening 
of  the  intellectual  power  devoted  to  the  law  and  its 
development.  The  living  growth  of  the  praetorian  edict 
had  long  since  come  to  an  end  ;  and  now  a  waning  juris- 
prudential  intelligence  first  ceased  to  advance  the  develop- 
ment of  law,  and  then  failed  to  save  from  desuetude  the 
achieved  jurisprudence  of  the  past.  So  the  jurisprudential 
and  juridical  elements  (jus)  fell  away  from  the  law,  and 
the  imperial  constitutions  (leges}  remained  the  sole  legal 
vehicle  and  means  of  amendment.  The  need  of  codification 
was  felt,  and  that  preserving  and  eliminating  process  was 
entered  upon. 

Roman  codification  never  became  a  reformulation.  The 
Roman  Codex  was  a  collection  of  existing  constitutions.  A 


240  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

certain  jurist  ("  Gregorianus  ")  made  an  orderly  and  compre- 
hensive collection  of  such  as  early  as  the  close  of  Diocletian's 
reign  ;  it  was  supplemented  by  the  work  of  another  jurist 
("  Hermogenianus  ")  in  the  time  of  Constantine.  Each  com- 
pilation was  the  work  of  a  private  person,  who,  without 
authority  to  restate,  could  but  compile  the  imperial  con- 
stitutions. The  same  method  was  adopted  by  the  later 
codifications,  which  were  made  and  promulgated  under 
imperial  decree.  There  were  two  which  were  to  be  of 
supreme  importance  for  the  legal  future  of  western  Europe, 
the  Theodosian  Code  and  the  legislation  of  Justinian.  The 
former  was  promulgated  in  438  by  Theodosius  II.  and 
Valentinianus.  The  emperors  formally  announce  that  "  in 
imitation  (ad  similitudinem)  of  the  Code  of  Gregorianus  and 
Hermogenianus  we  have  decreed  that  all  the  Constitutions 
should  be  collected "  which  have  been  promulgated  by 
Constantine  and  his  successors,  including  ourselves.1  So 
the  Theodosian  Code  contains  many  laws  of  the  emperors 
who  decreed  it.2  It  was  thus  a  compilation  of  imperial 
constitutions  already  in  existence,  or  decreed  from  year  to 
year  while  the  codification  was  in  process  (429-438). 
Every  constitution  is  given  in  the  words  of  its  original 
announcement,  and  with  the  name  of  the  emperor. 
Evidently  this  code  was  not  a  revision  of  the  law. 

The  codification  of  Justinian  began  with  the  promulga- 
tion of  the  Codex  in  529.  That  was  intended  to  be  a  com- 
pilation of  the  constitutions  contained  in  the  previous  codes 
and  still  in  force,  as  well  as  those  which  had  been  decreed 
since  the  time  of  Theodosius.  The  compilers  received 
authority  to  omit,  abbreviate,  and  supplement.  The  Codex 
was  revised  and  promulgated  anew  in  534.  The  constitu- 
tions which  were  decreed  during  the  remainder  of  Justinian's 
long  reign  were  collected  after  his  death  and  published  as 
Novellae.  So  far  there  was  nothing  radically  novel.  But, 
under  Justinian,  life  and  art  seemed  to  have  revived  in  the 
East ;  and  Tribonian,  with  the  others  who  assisted  in  these 
labours,  had  larger  views  of  legal  reform  and  jurisprudential 

1  Cod.  Theod.  (ed.  by  Mommsen  and  Meyer)  i.  I,  5. 

2  With  the  Theodosian  Code  the  word  lex,  leges,  begins  to  be  used  for  the 
constitutiones  or  other  decrees  of  a  sovereign. 


CHAP,  xxxm     ROMAN   AND  CANON   LAW  241 

conservation  than  the  men  who  worked  for  Theodosius. 
Justinian  and  his  coadjutors  had  also  serious  plans  for 
improving  the  teaching  of  the  law,  in  the  furtherance  of 
which  the  famous  little  book  of  Institutes  was  composed 
after  the  model,  and  to  some  extent  in  the  words,  of  the 
Institutes  of  Gaius.  It  was  published  in  533. 

The  great  labour,  however,  which  Justinian  and  his 
lawyers  were  as  by  Providence  inspired  to  achieve  was  the 
encyclopaedic  codification  of  the  jurisprudential  law.  Part 
of  the  emperor's  high-sounding  command  runs  thus  : 

"We  therefore  command  you  to  read  and  sift  out  from  the 
books  pertaining  to  the  jus  Romanum  composed  by  the  ancient 
learned  jurists  (antiqui  prudentes\  to  whom  the  most  sacred 
emperors  granted  authority  to  indite  and  interpret  the  laws,  so 
that  the  material  may  all  be  taken  from  these  writers,  and  incon- 
gruity avoided — for  others  have  written  books  which  have  been 
neither  used  nor  recognized.  When  by  the  favour  of  the  Deity  this 
material  shall  have  been  collected,  it  should  be  reared  with  toil 
most  beautiful,  and  consecrated  as  the  own  and  most  holy  temple 
of  justice,  and  the  whole  law  (totum  jus)  should  be  arranged  in 
fifty  books  under  specific  titles." l 

The  language  of  the  ancient  jurists  was  to  be  preserved 
even  critically,  that  is  to  say,  the  compilers  were  directed 
to  emend  apparent  errors  and  restore  what  seemed  "  verum 
et  optimum  et  quasi  ab  initio  scriptum."  It  was  not  the 
least  of  the  providential  mercies  connected  with  the  compila- 
tion of  this  great  body  of  jurisprudential  law,  that  Justinian 
and  his  commission  did  not  abandon  the  phrasing  of  the  old 
jurisconsults,  and  restate  their  opinions  in  such  language  as 
we  have  a  sample  of  in  the  constitution  from  which  the 
above  extract  is  taken.  This  jurisprudential  part  of 
Justinian's  Codification  was  named  the  Digest  or  Pandects? 

Inasmuch  as  Justinian's  brief  reconquest  of  western 
portions  of  the  Roman  Empire  did  not  extend  north  of  the 
Alps,  his  codification  was  not  promulgated  in  Gaul  or 

1  From  the  constitution   directing   the   compilation  of   the  Digest,  usually 
cited  as  Deo  auctore, 

2  The  original  plan  of  Theodosius  embraced  the  project  of  a  Codex  of  the 
jurisprudential  law.      See  his  constitution  of  the  year  429  in  Theod.  C.  i.  i,  5. 
Had  this  been  carried  out,  as  it  was  not,  Justinian's  Digest  would  have  had  a 
forerunner. 

VOL.  II  R 


242  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

Germany.  Even  in  Italy  his  legislation  did  not  maintain 
itself  in  general  dominance,  especially  in  the  north  where 
the  Lombard  law  narrowed  its  application.  Moreover, 
throughout  the  peninsula,  the  Pandects  quickly  became  as  if 
they  were  not,  and  fell  into  desuetude,  if  that  can  be  said  of 
a  work  which  had  not  come  into  use.  This  body  of  juris- 
prudential  law  was  beyond  the  legal  sense  of  those  monarchi- 
cally-minded  and  barbarizing  centuries,  which  knew  law  only 
as  the  command  of  a  royal  lawgiver.  The  Codex  and  the 
Novellae  were  of  this  nature.  They,  and  not  the  Digest, 
represent  the  influence  upon  Italy  of  Justinian's  legislation 
until  the  renewed  interest  in  jurisprudence  brought  the 
Pandects  to  the  front  at  the  close  of  the  eleventh  century. 
But  Codex  and  Novellae  were  too  bulky  for  a  period  that 
needed  to  have  its  intellectual  labours  made  easy.  From 
the  first,  the  Novellae  were  chiefly  known  and  used  in  the 
condensed  form  given  them  in  the  excellent  Epitome  of 
Jutianus,  apparently  a  Byzantine  of  the  last  part  of  Justinian's 
reign.1  The  cutting  down  and  epitomizing  of  the  Codex 
is  more  obscure  ;  probably  it  began  at  once  ;  the  incomplete 
or  condensed  forms  were  those  in  common  use.2 

It  is,  however,  with  the  Theodosian  Code  and  certain 
survivals  of  the  works  of  the  great  jurists  that  we  have 
immediately  to  do.  For  these  were  the  sources  of  the 
•codes  enacted  by  Gothic  and  Burgundian  kings  for  their 
Roman  or  Gallo-Roman  subjects.  Apparently  the  earliest 
of  them  was  prepared  soon  after  the  year  502,  at  the  com- 
mand of  Gondebaud,  King  of  the  Burgundians.  This,  which 
later  was  dubbed  the  Papianus*  was  the  work  of  a  skilled 
Roman  lawyer,  and  seems  quite  as  much  a  text-book  as  a 
code.  It  set  forth  the  law  of  the  topics  important  for  the 
Roman  provincials  living  in  the  Burgundian  kingdom,  not 
merely  making  extracts  from  its  sources,  but  stating  their 
contents  and  referring  to  them  as  authorities.  These  sources 

1  Juliani  epitome  Latino.  Novellarum  Justiniani,  ed.  by  G.  Haenel  (Leipzig, 

1873)- 

2  Conrat,  Ges.  der  Qitellen  und  Lit.   des  rbm.  Rechts,  pp.   48-59,  and   161 
sqq,  ;   Mommsen,   Zeitschrift  fur  Rechtsges.  21    (1900),  Roman.  Abteilung,  pp. 

I50-I55- 

3  Ed.  by  Bluhme,  Man.  Germ,  leges,  iii.   579-630.     Cf.  Tardif,  Sources  du 
droit  franfats,  124-128.      A  code  of  Burgundian  law  had  already  been  made. 


CHAP,  xxxni     ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  243 

were  substantially  the  same  as  those  used  by  the  Visigothic 
Breviarium,  which  was  soon  to  supersede  the  Papianus  even 
in  Burgundy. 

Breviarium  was  the  popular  name  of  the  code  enacted  by 
the  Visigothic  king  Alaric  II.  about  the  year  506  for  his 
provinciates  in  the  south  of  Gaul.1  It  preserved  the  integrity 
of  its  sources,  giving  the  texts  in  the  same  order,  and  with 
the  same  rubrics,  as  in  the  original.  The  principal  source 
was  the  Theodosian  Code ;  next  in  importance  the  collections 
of  Novellae  of  Theodosius  and  succeeding  emperors  :  a  few 
texts  were  taken  from  the  Codes  of  "  Gregorianus "  and 
"  Hermogenianus."  These  parts  of  the  Breviarium  consisted 
of  leges,  that  is,  of  constitutions  of  the  emperors.  Two 
sources  of  quite  a  different  character  were  also  drawn  upon. 
One  was  the  Institutes  of  Gaius,  or  rather  an  old  epitome 
which  had  been  made  from  it.  The  other  was  the  Sententiae 
of  Paulus,  the  famous  "  Five  Books  of  Sentences  ad  filium" 
This  work  of  elementary  jurisprudence  deserved  its  great 
repute ;  yet  its  use  in  the  Breviarium  may  have  been  due  to 
the  special  sanction  which  had  been  given  it  in  one  of  the 
constitutions  of  the  Theodosian  Code,  also  taken  over  into 
the  Breviarium  :  "  Pauli  quoque  sententias  semper  valere 
praecipimus."  *  The  same  constitution  confirmed  the  Insti- 
tutes of  Gaius,  among  other  great  jurisconsults.  Presum- 
ably these  two  works  were  the  most  commonly  known  as 
well  as  the  clearest  and  best  of  elementary  jurisprudential 
compositions. 

An  interesting  feature  of  the  Breviarium,  and  destined 
to  be  of  great  importance,  was  the  Interpretatio  accompany- 
ing all  its  texts,  except  those  drawn  from  the  epitome  of 
Gaius.  This  was  not  the  work  of  Alaric's  compilers, 
but  probably  represents  the  approved  exposition  of  the 
leges,  with  the  exposition  of  the  already  archaic  Sentences 
of  Paulus,  current  in  the  law  schools  of  southern  Gaul  in 
the  fifth  century.  The  Interpretatio  thus  taken  into  the 
Breviarium  had,  like  the  texts,  the  force  of  royal  law,  and 
soon  was  to  surpass  them  in  practice  by  reason  of  its 

1  Edited  by  Haenel,  with  the  epitomes  of  it  in  parallel  columns,  under  the 
name  of  Lex  Romano.  Visigothorum  (Leipzig,  1849).      See  Tardif,  o.c.  129-143. 
8  Cod.  Theod.  i.  4,  3  ;  Brev.  i.  4,  I. 


244  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

perspicuity  and  modernity.  Many  manuscripts  contain  only 
the  Interpretatio  and  omit  the  texts. 

The  Breviarium  became  the  source  of  Roman  law, 
mdeed  the  Roman  law  par  excellence,  for  the  Merovingian 
and  then  the  Carolingian  realm,  outside  of  Italy.  It  was 
soon  subjected  to  the  epitomizing  process,  and  its  epitomes 
exist,  dating  from  the  eighth  to  the  tenth  century :  they 
reduced  it  in  bulk,  and  did  away  with  the  practical  incon- 
venience of  lex  and  interpretatio.  Further,  the  Breviarium^ 
and  even  the  epitomes,  were  glossed  with  numerous  marginal 
or  interlinear  notes  made  by  transcribers  or  students.  These 
range  from  definitions  of  words,  sometimes  taken  from 
Isidore's  Etymologiae,  to  brief  explanations  of  difficulties  in 
the  text1  In  like  manner  in  Italy,  the  Codex  and  Novellae 
of  Justinian  were,  as  has  been  said,  reduced  to  epitomes, 
and  also  equipped  with  glosses. 

These  barbaric  codes  of  Roman  law  mark  the  passage 
of  Roman  law  into  incipiently  mediaeval  stages.  On  the 
other  hand,  certain  Latin  codes  of  barbarian  law  present  the 
laws  of  the  Teutons  touched  with  Roman  conceptions,  and 
likewise  becoming  inchoately  mediaeval. 

Freedom,  the  efficient  freedom  of  the  individual,  belongs 
to  civilization  rather  than  to  barbarism.  The  actual  as  well 
as  imaginary  perils  surrounding  the  lives  of  men  who  do  not 
dwell  in  a  safe  society,  entail  a  state  of  close  mutual 
dependence  rather  than  of  liberty.  Law  in  a  civilized 
community  has  the  twofold  purpose  of  preserving  the 
freedom  of  the  individual  and  of  maintaining  peace.  With 
each  advance  in  human  progress,  the  latter  purpose,  at  least 
in  the  field  of  private  civil  law,  recedes  a  little  farther,  while 

1  On  these  epitomes  and  glosses  see  Conrat,  Ges.  der  Quellen,  etc.,  pp. 
222-252.  Mention  should  be  made  of  the  Edict  of  Theodoric  the  Ostrogoth,  a 
piece  of  legislation  contemporary  with  the  Breviarium  and  the  Papianus.  In 
pursuance  of  Theodoric's  policy  of  amalgamating  Goths  and  Romans,  ihe  Edict 
was  made  for  both  (Barbari  Romanique).  Its  sources  were  substantially  the 
same  as  those  of  the  Breviarium,  except  that  Gaius  was  not  used.  The  sources 
are  not  given  verbatim,  but  their  contents  are  restated,  often  quite  bunglingly. 
Naturally  a  Teutonic  influence  runs  through  this  short  and  incomplete  code, 
which  contains  more  criminal  than  private  law.  No  further  reference  need  be 
made  to  it  because  its  influence  practically  ceased  with  the  reconquest  of  Italy 
by  Justinian.  It  is  edited  by  Bluhme,  in  Mon.  Ger.  leges,  v.  145-169.  See 
as  to  it,  Savigny,  Geschichte  des  rom.  Rechts,  ii.  172-181  ;  Salvioli,  Storia  del 
diritto  italiano,  3rd  ed.,  pp.  45-47. 


CHAP,  xxxin     ROMAN  AND  CANON   LAW  245 

the  importance  of  private  law,  as  compared  with  penal  law, 
constantly  increases. 

The  law  of  uncivilized  peoples  lacks  the  first  of  these 
purposes.  Its  sole  conscious  object  is  to  maintain,  or  at 
least  provide  a  method  of  maintaining  peace ;  it  is  scarcely 
aware  that  in  maintaining  peace  it  is  enhancing  the  freedom 
of  every  individual. 

The  distinct  and  conscious  purpose  of  early  Teutonic 
law  was  to  promote  peace  within  the  tribe,  or  among  the 
members  of  a  warband.  Thus  was  law  regarded  by  the 
people — as  a  means  of  peace.  Its  communication  or 
ordainment  might  be  ascribed  to  a  God  or  a  divine  King. 
But  in  reality  its  chief  source  lay  in  slowly  growing  regula- 
tive custom.1  The  force  of  law,  or  more  technically  speaking 
the  legal  sanction,  lay  in  the  power  of  the  tribe  to  uphold 
its  realized  purpose  as  a  tribe  ;  for  the  power  to  maintain 
its  solidarity  and  organization  was  the  final  test  of  its  law- 
upholding  strength. 

Primarily  the  old  Teutonic  law  looked  to  the  tribe  and 
its  sub-units,  and  scarcely  regarded  the  special  claims  of  an 
individual,  or  noticed  mitigating  or  aggravating  elements 
in  his  culpability — answerability  rather.  It  prescribed  for 
his  peace  and  protection  as  a  member  of  a  family,  or  as 
one  included  within  the  bands  of  Sippe  (blood  relationship)  ; 
or  as  one  of  a  warband  or  a  chiefs  close  follower,  one  of 
his  comitatus.  On  the  other  hand,  the  law  was  stiff,  narrow, 
and  ungeneralized  in  its  recognized  rules.  The  first  Latin 
codifications  of  Teutonic  law  are  not  to  be  compared  for 
breadth  and  elasticity  of  statement  to  the  Law  of  the  Twelve 
Tables.  And  their  substance  was  more  primitive.2 

The  earliest  of  these  first  codifications  was  the  Lex 
Salica,  codified  under  Clovis  near  the  year  500.  Unquestion- 
ably, contact  with  Roman  institutions  suggested  the  idea, 
even  as  the  Latin  language  was  the  vehicle,  of  this  code. 
Otherwise  the  Lex  Salica  is  un-Christian  and  un-Roman, 
although  probably  it  was  put  together  after  Clevis's  baptism. 
It  was  not  a  comprehensive  codification,  and  omitted  much 

1  Cf.  Brunner,  Deutsche  Rechtsgeschichte,  \.  p.  109  sqq, 

2  For  the  characteristics  and  elements  of  early  Teutonic  law  see  Brunner, 
Deutsche  Rechtsgeschichte,  Bd.  i. 


246  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vi 

that  was  common  knowledge  at  the  time ;  which  now 
makes  it  somewhat  enigmatical.  One  finds  in  it  lists  of 
thefts  of  every  sort  of  object  that  might  be  stolen,  and  of 
the  various  injuries  to  the  person  that  might  be  done,  and 
the  sum  of  money  to  be  paid  in  each  case  as  atonement  or 
compensation.  Such  schedules  did  not  set  light  store  on 
life  and  property.  On  the  contrary,  they  were  earnestly 
intended  as  the  most  available  protection  of  elemental 
human  rights,  and  as  the  best  method  of  peaceful  redress. 
The  sums  awarded  as  Wergeld  were  large,  and  were  reckoned 
according  to  the  slain  man's  rank.  By  committing  a 
homicide,  a  man  might  ruin  himself  and  even  his  blood 
relatives  (Sippe),  and  of  course  on  failure  to  atone  might 
incur  servitude  or  death  or  outlawry. 

The  Salic  law  is  scarcely  touched  by  the  law  of  Rome. 
From  this  piece  of  intact  Teutonism  the  codes  of  other 
Teuton  peoples  shade  off  into  bodies  of  law  partially 
Romanized,  that  is,  affected  by  the  provincialized  Roman 
law  current  in  the  locality  where  the  Teutonic  tribe  found 
a  home.  The  codes  of  the  Burgundians  and  the  Visigoths 
in  southern  France  are  examples  of  this  Teutonic-Romanesque 
commingling.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Lombard  codes, 
though  later  in  time,  held  themselves  even  harshly  Teutonic, 
as  opposed  to  any  influence  from  the  law  of  the  conquered 
Italian  population,  for  whom  the  Lombards  had  less  regard 
than  Burgundians  and  Visigoths  had  for  their  subject  pro- 
vincials. Moreover,  as  the  Prankish  realm  extended  its 
power  over  other  Gallo-Teuton  states,  the  various  Teuton 
laws  modified  each  other  and  tended  toward  uniformity. 
Naturally  the  law  of  the  Franks,  first  the  Salic  and  then  the 
partly  derivative  Ribuarian  code,  exerted  a  dominating 
influence.1 

These  Teuton  peoples  regarded  law  as  pertaining  to 
the  tribe.  There  was  little  conscious  intention  on  their  part 
of  forcing  their  laws  on  the  conquered.  When  the  Visigoths 
established  their  kingdom  in  southern  France  they  had  no 
idea  of  changing  the  law  of  the  Gallo-Roman  provincials 
living  within  the  Visigothic  rule  ;  and  shortly  afterwards, 
•when  the  Franks  extended  their  power  over  the  still  Roman 

1  See  Brunner,  Deutsche  Recktsgeschichte,  \.  p.  254  sqq.,  and  338-340. 


CHAP,  xxxin     ROMAN  AND  CANON   LAW  247 

parts  of  Gaul,  and  then  over  Alemanni,  Burgundians,  and 
Visigoths,  they  likewise  had  no  thought  of  forcing  their 
laws  either  upon  Gallo-Romans  or  upon  the  Teuton  people 
previously  dominant  within  a  given  territory.  This  remained 
true  even  of  the  later  Prankish  period,  when  the  Carolingians 
conquered  the  Lombard  kingdom  in  upper  Italy. 

Indeed,  to  all  these  Teutons  and  to  the  Roman  pro- 
vincials as  well,  it  seemed  as  a  matter  of  course  that  tribal 
or  local  laws  should  be  permitted  to  endure  among  the 
peoples  they  belonged  to.  These  assumptions  and  the 
conditions  of  the  growing  Prankish  Empire  evoked,  as  it 
were,  a  more  acute  mobilization  of  the  principle  that  to 
each  people  belonged  its  law.  For  provincials  and  Teuton 
peoples  were  mingling  throughout  the  Prankish  realm,  and 
the  first  obvious  solution  of  the  legal  problems  arising  was 
to  hold  that  provincials  and  Teutons  everywhere  should 
remain  amenable  and  entitled  to  their  own  law,  which  was 
assumed  to  attend  them  as  a  personal  appurtenance.  Of 
course  this  solution  became  intolerable  as  tribal  blood  and 
delimitations  were  obscured,  and  men  moved  about  through 
the  territories  of  one  great  realm.  Archbishop  Agobard  of 
Lyons  remarks  that  one  might  see  five  men  sitting  together, 
each  amenable  to  a  different  law.1  The  escape  from  this 
legal  confusion  was  to  revert  to  the  idea  of  law  and  custom 
as  applying  to  every  one  within  a  given  territory.  The 
personal  principle  gradually  gave  way  to  this  conception  in 
the  course  of  the  ninth,  tenth,  and  eleventh  centuries.2  In 
the  meanwhile  during  the  Merovingian,  and  more  potently 
in  the  Carolingian  period,  king's  law,  as  distinguished  from 
people's  law,  had  been  an  influence  making  for  legal  uni- 
formity throughout  that  wide  conglomerate  empire  which 
acknowledged  the  authority  of  the  Prankish  king  or 
emperor.  The  king's  law  might  emanate  from  the  delegated 
authority,  and  arise  from  the  practices,  of  royal  functionaries  ; 

1  "  Adversus  Gunclobadi  legem,"  c.  4  (Man.  Germ,  leges,  Hi.  504).  As  to 
Agobard  see  ante.  Vol.  I.  p.  232. 

3  The  matter  is  suggested  here  only  in  its  general  aspects.  The  details 
present  every  kind  of  complication  (for  some  purposes  to-day  a  court  will  apply 
the  law  of  the  litigant's  domicile).  The  professio  (frofessus  sum  or  professa  sum), 
by  which  a  man  or  woman  formally  declares  by  what  law  he  or  she  lives, 
remained  common  in  Italy  for  five  centuries  after  Pippin's  conquest,  and  indicates 
the  legal  situation  there,  especially  of  the  Teutonic  newcomers. 


248  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

it  was  most  formally  promulgated  in  Capitularies,  which  with 
Charlemagne  reach  such  volume  and  importance.  Some  of 
these  royal  ordinances  related  to  a  town  or  district  only. 
Others  were  for  the  realm,  and  the  latter  not  only  were 
instances  of  law  applying  universally,  but  also  tended  to 
promote,  or  suggest,  the  harmonizing  of  laws  which  they  did 
not  modify  directly. 

Ill 

The  Roman  law  always  existed  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
Provincialized  and  changed,  it  was  interwoven  in  the  law 
and  custom  of  the  land  of  the  langue  cCoc  and  even  in  the 
customary  law  of  the  lands  where  the  langue  (foil  was 
spoken.  Through  the  same  territory  it  existed  also  in  the 
Breviarium  and  its  epitomes.  There  was  very  little  of  it 
in  England,  and  scarcely  a  trace  in  the  Germany  east  of  the 
Rhine.  In  Italy  it  was  applied  when  not  superseded  by  the 
Lombard  codes,  and  was  drawn  from  works  based  on  the 
Codex  and  Novels  of  Justinian.  But  the  jurisprudential 
law  contained  in  Justinian's  Digest  was  as  well  forgotten  in 
Italy  as  in  any  land  north  of  the  Alps,  where  the  Codifica- 
tion of  Justinian  had  never  been  promulgated.  The  extent 
to  which  the  classic  forms  of  Roman  law  were  known  or 
unknown,  unforgotten  or  forgotten,  was  no  accident  as  of 
codices  or  other  writings  lost  accidentally.  It  hung  upon 
larger  conditions — whether  society  had  reached  that  stage 
of  civilized  exigency  demanding  the  application  of  an 
advanced  commercial  law,  and  whether  there  were  men 
capable  of  understanding  and  applying  it  This  need  and 
the  capacity  to  understand  would  be  closely  joined.1 

The  history  of  the  knowledge  and  understanding  of 
Roman  law  in  the  Middle  Ages  might  be  resolved  into  a 
consideration  of  the  sources  drawn  upon,  and  the  extent  and 
manner  of  their  use,  from  century  to  century.  In  the  fifth 
century,  when  the  Theodosian  Code  was  promulgated,  law 
was  thought  of  chiefly  as  the  mandate  of  a  ruler.  The 

1  One  sees  an  analogy  in  the  fortunes  of  the  Boethian  translations  of  the 
more  advanced  treatises  of  Aristotle's  Organon.  They  fell  into  disuse  (or 
never  came  into  use)  and  so  were  "  lost "  until  they  came  to  light,  i.e.  into  use, 
in  the  last  part  of  the  twelfth  century. 


CHAP,  xxxni     ROMAN   AND  CANON  LAW  249 

Theodosian  Code  was  composed  of  constitutiones  principum. 
Likewise  the  Breviarium,  based  upon  it,  and  other  barbarian 
codes  of  Roman  law,  were  ordained  by  kings  ;  and  so  were 
the  codes  of  Teutonic  law.  For  law,  men  looked  directly 
to  the  visible  ruler.  The  jus,  reasoned  out  by  the  wisdom 
of  trained  jurists,  had  lost  authority  and  interest.  To  be  sure, 
a  hundred  years  later  Justinian's  Commission  put  together  in 
the  Digest  the  body  of  jurisprudential  law ;  but  even  in 
Italy  where  his  codification  was  promulgated,  the  Digest  fell 
still-born.  Never  was  an  official  compilation  of  less  effect 
upon  its  own  time,  or  of  such  mighty  import  for  times  to 
come. 

The  Breviarium  became  par  excellence  the  code  of  Roman 
law  for  the  countries  included  in  the  present  France.  With 
its  accompanying  Interpretatio  it  was  a  work  indicating 
intelligence  on  the  part  of  its  compilers,  whose  chief  care 
was  as  to  arrangement  and  explanation.  But  the  time  was 
not  progressive,  and  a  gathering  mental  decadence  was 
shown  by  the  manner  in  which  the  Breviarium  was  treated 
and  used,  to  wit,  epitomized  in  many  epitomes,  and  practi- 
cally superseded  by  them.  Here  was  double  evidence  of 
decay  ;  for  the  supersession  of  such  a  work  by  such  epitomes 
indicates  a  diminishing  legal  knowledge  in  the  epitomizers, 
and  also  a  narrowing  of  social  and  commercial  needs  in  the 
community,  for  which  the  original  work  contained  much  that 
was  no  longer  useful. 

There  were,  of  course,  epitomes  and  epitomes.  Such  a 
work  as  the  Epitome  Juliani,  in  which  a  good  Byzantine 
lawyer  of  Justinian's  time  presented  the  substance  of  the 
Novellae,  was  an  excellent  compendium,  and  deserved  the 
fame  it  won.  Of  a  lower  order  were  the  later  manipulations 
of  Justinian's  Codex,  by  which  apparently  the  Codex  was 
superseded  in  Italy.  One  of  these  was  the  Summa  Perusina 
of  the  ninth  or  tenth  century,  a  wretched  work,  and  one  of 
the  blindest.1 

Justinian's  Codex  and  Julian's  Epitome  were  equipped 
with  glosses,  some  of  which  are  as  early  as  Justinian's  time  ; 
but  the  greater  part  are  later.  The  glosses  to  Justinian's 
legislation  resemble  those  of  the  Breviarium  before  referred 

1  See  Conrat,  Ges.  der  Quellen,  pp.  182-187. 


250  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

to.  That  is  to  say,  as  the  centuries  pass  downward  toward 
the  tenth,  the  glosses  answer  to  cruder  needs  :  they  become 
largely  translations  of  words,  often  taken  from  Isidore's 
Etymologiae}  Indeed  many  of  them  appear  to  have  had 
merely  a  grammatical  interest,  as  if  the  text  was  used  as  an 
aid  in  the  study  of  the  Latin  language. 

The  last  remark  indicates  a  way  in  which  a  very  super- 
ficial acquaintance  with  the  Roman  law  was  kept  up  through 
the  centuries  prior  to  the  twelfth  :  it  was  commonly  taught 
in  the  schools  devoted  to  elementary  instruction,  that  is  to 
say,  to  the  Seven  Liberal  Arts.  In  many  instances  the 
instructors  had  only  such  knowledge  as  they  derived  from 
Isidore,  that  friend  of  every  man.  That  is,  they  had  no 
special  knowledge  of  law,  but  imparted  various  definitions  to 
their  pupils,  just  as  they  might  teach  them  the  names  of 
diseases  and  remedies,  a  list  of  which  (and  nothing  more) 
they  would  also  find  in  Isidore.  It  was  all  just  as  one 
might  have  expected.  Elementary  mediaeval  education  was 
encyclopaedic  in  its  childish  way  ;  and,  in  accordance  with 
the  methods  and  traditions  of  the  transition  centuries,  all 
branches  of  instruction  were  apt  to  be  turned  to  grammar 
and  rhetoric,  and  made  linguistic,  so  to  speak — mere  subjects 
for  curious  definition.  Thus  it  happened  to  law  as  well  as 
medicine.  Yet  some  of  the  teachers  may  have  had  a  prac- 
tical acquaintance  with  legal  matters,  with  an  understanding 
for  legal  documents  and  skill  to  draw  them  up. 

The  assertion  also  is  warranted  that  at  certain  centres  of 
learning  substantial  legal  instruction  was  given  ;  one  may 
even  speak  of  schools  of  law.  Scattered  information  touching 
all  the  early  mediaeval  periods  shows  that  there  was  no  time 
when  instruction  in  Roman  law  could  not  be  obtained  some- 
where in  western  Europe.  To  refer  to  France,  the  Roman 
law  was  very  early  taught  at  Narbonne  ;  at  Orleans  it  was 
taught  from  the  time  of  Bishop  Theodulphus,  Charlemagne's 
contemporary,  and  probably  the  teaching  of  it  long  continued. 
One  may  speak  in  the  same  way  of  Lyons  ;  and  in  the 
eleventh  century  Angers  was  famed  for  the  study  of  law. 

Our  information  is  less  broken  as  to  an  Italy  where 
through  the  early  Middle  Ages  more  general  opportunities 

1  See  Conrat,  Ges.  der  Quellen,  etc.,  pp.  162-166,  168-182,  192-202,  240-252. 


CHAP.  XXXHI     ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  251 

offered  for  elementary  education,  and  where  the  Roman  law, 
with  Justinian's  Codification  as  a  base,  made  in  general  the 
law  of  the  land.  There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  it  was 
not  taught.  Contemporary  allusions  bear  witness  to  the 
existence  of  a  school  of  law  in  Rome  in  the  time  of  Cassio- 
dorus  and  afterwards,  which  is  confirmed  by  a  statement  of 
the  jurist  Odofredus  in  the  thirteenth  century.  At  Pavia 
there  was  a  school  of  law  in  the  time  of  Rothari,  the  legislat- 
ing Lombard  king  ;  this  reached  the  zenith  of  its  repute  in 
the  eleventh  century.  Legal  studies  also  flourished  at 
Ravenna,  and  succumbed  before  the  rising  star  of  the 
Bologna  school  at  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century.1 
In  these  and  doubtless  many  other  cities2  students  were 
instructed  in  legal  practices  and  formulae,  and  some  substance 
of  the  Roman  law  was  taught.  Extant  legal  documents  of 
various  kinds  afford,  especially  for  Italy,  ample  evidence  of 
the  continuous  application  of  the  Roman  law.3 

As  for  the  merits  and  deficiencies  of  legal  instruction  in 
Italy  and  in  France,  an  idea  may  be  gained  from  the  various 
manuals  that  were  prepared  either  for  use  in  the  schools  of 
law  or  for  the  practitioner.  Because  of  the  uncertainty, 
however,  of  their  age  and  provenance,  it  is  difficult  to  connect 
them  with  a  definite  foyer  of  instruction. 

Until  the  opening  of  the  twelfth  century,  or  at  all  events 
until  the  last  quarter  of  the  eleventh,  the  legal  literature 
evinces  scarcely  any  originality  or  critical  capacity.  There 
are  glosses,  epitomes,  and  collections  of  extracts,  more  or 
less  condensed  or  confused  from  whatever  text  the  compiler 
had  before  him.  Little  jurisprudential  intelligence  appears 
in  any  writings  which  are  known  to  precede  the  close  of  the 
eleventh  century  ;  none,  for  instance,  in  the  epitomes  of  the 
Breviarium  and  the  glosses  relating  to  that  code ;  none  in 

1  See  Salvioli,  Storia  di  diritto  italiano,   3rd  ed.,  1899,  pp.   84-90;   ibid. 
/,'  htruzione  pubblica  in  Italia  net  secoli  VIII.  IX.  X.  ;  Tardif,  Hist,  des  sources 
du  droit  fratifais,  p.    281  sqq.  ;  Savigny,  Geschichte,  etc.,  iv.   pp.    1-9;  Fitting, 
"  Zur  Geschichte  der  Rechtswissenschaft  im  Mittelalter,"  Zeitschriftfur  Rges.  Sav. 
Stiff.,  Roman.  Abteil.,  Bd.  vi.,  1885,  pp.  94-186  ;  ibid.  Juristisc he  Schriften  des 
fruheren  Mittelalters,  108  sqq.  (Halle,  1876). 

2  A  contemporary  notice  speaks  of  the  enormous  number  of  judges,  lawyers, 
and  notaries  in  Milan  about  the  year  1000.     Salvioli,  L'  htruzione  pubblica,  etc., 
p.  78.     It  is  hard  to  imagine  that  no  legal  instruction  could  be  had  there. 

3  The  evidence  is  gathered  in  different  parts  of  Savigny's  Geschichte. 


252  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

those  works  of  Italian  origin  the  material  for  which  was 
drawn  directly  or  indirectly  from  the  Codex  or  Novels  of 
Justinian,  for  instance  the  Summa  Perusina  and  the  Lex 
Romano,  canonice  compta,  both  of  which  probably  belong  to 
the  ninth  century.  Such  compilations  were  put  together 
for  practical  use,  or  perhaps  as  aids  to  teaching. 

Thus,  so  far  as  inference  may  be  drawn  from  the  extant 
writings,  the  legal  teaching  in  any  school  during  this  long 
period  hardly  rose  above  an  uncritical  and  unenlightened 
explanation  of  Roman  law  somewhat  mediaevalized  and 
deflected  from  its  classic  form  and  substance.  There  was 
also  practical  instruction  in  current  legal  forms  and  customs. 
Interest  in  the  law  had  not  risen  above  practical  needs,  nor 
was  capacity  shown  for  anything  above  a  mechanical  handling 
of  the  matter.  Legal  study  was  on  a  level  with  the  other 
intellectual  phenomena  of  the  period. 

In  an  opusculum  *  written  shortly  after  the  middle  of  the 
eleventh  century,  Peter  Damiani  bears  unequivocal,  if  some- 
what hostile,  witness  to  the  study  of  law  at  Ravenna  ;  and  it 
is  clear  that  in  his  time  legal  studies  were  progressing  in 
both  France  and  Italy.  It  is  unsafe  to  speak  more  definitely, 
because  of  the  difficulty  in  fixing  the  time  and  place  of 
certain  rather  famous  pieces  of  legal  literature,  which  show  a 
marked  advance  upon  the  productions  to  be  ascribed  with 
certainty  to  an  earlier  time.  The  reference  is  to  the  Petri 
exceptiones  and  the  Brachylogus.  The  critical  questions  relat- 
ing to  the  former  are  too  complex  even  to  outline  here. 
Both  its  time  and  place  are  in  dispute.  The  ascribed  dates 
range  from  the  third  quarter  of  the  eleventh  century  to  the 
first  quarter  of  the  twelfth,  a  matter  of  importance,  since  the 
opening  of  the  twelfth  century  is  marked  by  the  rise  of  the 
Bologna  school.  As  for  the  place,  some  scholars  still  adhere 
to  the  south  of  France,  while  others  look  to  Pavia  or 
Ravenna.  On  the  whole,  the  weight  of  argument  seems  to 
favour  Italy  and  a  date  not  far  from  IO75.2 

The    Petrus,  as  it    is    familiarly  called,  is  drawn  from 

1  De  parentelae  gradibus,  see  Savigny,  Geschichte,  Bd.  iv.  p.  i  sqq. 

2  See  Savigny,  Geschichte,  Bd.  ii.  pp.  134-163  (the  text  is  published  in  an 
Appendix   to  that  volume,   pp.   321-428);  Conrat,    Ges.   der  Quellen,  etc.,  pp. 
420-549  ;  Tardif,  Hist,  des  sources  du  droit  francais,  pp.  213-246. 


CHAP,  xxxm     ROMAN  AND  CANON   LAW  253 

immediately  prior  and  still  extant  compilations.  The 
compiler  wished  to  give  a  compendious  if  not  systematic 
presentation  of  law  as  accepted  and  approved  in  his  time, 
that  is  to  say,  of  Roman  law  somewhat  mediaevalized  in  tone, 
and  with  certain  extraneous  elements  from  the  Lombard 
codes.  The  ultimate  Roman  sources  were  the  Codification 
of  Justinian,  and  indeed  all  of  it,  Digest,  Codex,  and  Novels, 
the  last  in  the  form  to  which  they  had  been  brought  in 
Julian's  Epitome.  The  purpose  of  the  compilation  is  given 
in  the  Prologue,1  which  in  substance  is  as  follows  : 

"  Since  for  many  divers  reasons,  on  account  of  the  great  and 
manifold  difficulties  in  the  laws,  even  the  Doctors  of  the  laws 
cannot  without  pains  reach  a  certain  opinion,  we,  taking  account 
of  both  laws,  to  wit,  the  jus  civile  and  the  jus  naturale,  unfold  the 
solution  of  controversies  under  plain  and  patent  heads.  Whatever 
is  found  in  the  laws  that  is  useless,  void,  or  contrary  to  equity,  we 
trample  under  our  feet.  Whatever  has  been  added  and  surely  held 
to,  we  set  forth  in  its  integral  meaning  so  that  nothing  may  appear 
unjust  or  provocative  of  appeal  from  thy  judgments,  Odilo ; 2  but 
all  may  make  for  the  vigour  of  justice  and  the  praise  of  God" 

The  arrangement  of  topics  in  the  Petrus  hardly  evinces 
any  clear  design.  The  substance,  however,  is  well  presented. 
If  there  be  a  question  to  be  solved,  it  is  plainly  stated,  and 
the  solution  arrived  at  may  be  interesting.  For  example,  a 
case  seems  to  have  arisen  where  the  son  of  one  who  died 
intestate  had  seized  the  whole  property  to  the  exclusion 
of  the  children  of  two  deceased  daughters.  The  sons  of 
one  daughter  acquiesced.  The  sons  of  the  other  per  placitum 
et  guerram  forced  their  uncle  to  give  up  their  share. 
Thereupon  the  supine  cousins  demanded  to  share  in  what 
had  so  been  won.  The  former  contestants  resisted  on  the 
plea  that  the  latter  had  borne  no  aid  in  the  contest  and  that 
they  had  obtained  only  their  own  portion.  The  decision 
was  that  the  supine  cousins  might  claim  their  heritage  from 
whoever  held  it,  and  should  receive  their  share  in  what  the 

1  This  follows  the  so-called  Tubingen  MSS.,  the  largest  immediate  source  of 
the  Petrus.     As  well-nigh  the  entire  substance  of  the  Petrus  is  drawn  from  the 
immediately  prior  compilations  (which  are  still  unpublished)  its  characteristics  are 
really  theirs. 

2  Apparently  the  chief  magistrate  of  Valence  :  "  Valentinae  civitatis  magistro 
wagnifico. " 


254  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

successful  contestants  had  won  ;  but  that  the  latter  could 
by  counter-actions  compel  them  to  pay  their  share  of  the 
necessary  expenses  of  the  prior  contest.1 

Sometimes  the  Petrus  seems  to  draw  a  general  rule  of 
law  from  the  apparent  instances  of  its  application  in 
Justinian's  Codification.  Therein  certain  formalities  were 
prescribed  in  making  a  testament,  in  adopting  a  son,  or 
emancipating  a  slave.  The  Petrus  draws  from  them  the 
general  principle  that  where  the  law  prescribes  formalities, 
the  transaction  is  not  valid  if  they  are  omitted.2  In  fine, 
unsystematized  as  is  the  arrangement  of  topics,  the  work 
presents  an  advance  in  legal  intelligence  over  mediaeval  law- 
writings  earlier  than  the  middle  of  the  eleventh  century. 

If  the  Petrus  was  adapted  for  use  in  practice,  the 
Brachylogus,  on  the  other  hand,  was  plainly  a  book  of 
elementary  instruction,  formed  on  the  model  of  Justinian's 
Institutes.  But  it  made  use  of  his  entire  codification,  the 
Novels,  however,  only  as  condensed  in  Julian's  Epitome. 
The  influence  of  the  Breviarium  is  also  noticeable  ;  which 
might  lead  one  to  think  that  the  treatise  was  written  in 
Orleans  or  the  neighbourhood,  since  the  Breviarium  was 
not  in  use  in  Italy,  while  the  Codification  of  Justinian  was 
known  in  France  by  the  end  of  the  eleventh  century.  The 
beginning  of  the  twelfth  is  the  date  usually  given  to  the 
Brachylogus.  It  does  not  belong  to  the  Bologna  school  of 
glossators,  but  rather  immediately  precedes  them,  wherever 
it  was  composed.3 

The  Brachylogus,  as  a  book  of  Institutes,  compares 
favourably  with  its  model,  from  the  language  of  which  it 
departed  at  will.  Both  works  are  divided  into  four  libri\ 
but  the  libri  of  the  Brachylogus  correspond  better  to  the 
logical  divisions  of  the  law.  Again,  frequently  the  author 
of  the  Brachylogus  breaks  up  the  chapters  of  Justinian's 
Institutes  and  gives  the  subject-matter  under  more  pertinent 
headings.  Sometimes  the  statements  of  the  older  work 
are  improved  by  rearrangement.  The  definitions  of  the 

1  Petri  cxcepliones,  iii.  69.  '2  Petrus,  i.  66. 

3  See  Conrat,  Ges.  der  Quellen,  etc.,  550-582  ;  Tardif,  Hist,  des  sources,  etc., 
pp.  207-213;  Fitting,  Zeitschrift  fur  Rges.  Bd.  vi.  p.  141.  It  is  edited  by 
Booking  (Berlin,  1829)  under  the  title  of  Corpus  legum  sive  Brachylogus  juris 
civilis. 


CHAP,  xxxiii     ROMAN   AND  CANON   LAW  255 

Brachylogus  are  pithy  and  concise,  even  to  a  fault.  Often 
the  exposition  is  well  adapted  to  the  purposes  of  an 
elementary  text-book,1  which  was  meant  to  be  supplemented 
by  oral  instruction.  On  the  whole,  the  work  shows  that 
the  author  is  no  longer  encumbered  by  the  mass  or  by 
the  advanced  character  of  his  sources.  He  restates  their 
substance  intelligently,  and  thinks  for  himself.  He  is  no 
compiler,  and  his  work  has  reached  the  rank  of  a  treatise. 

The  merits  of  the  Brachylogus  as  an  elementary  text- 
book are  surpassed  by  those  of  the  so-called  Summa  Codicis 
Irnerii,  a  book  which  may  mark  the  beginning  of  the 
Bologna  school  of  law,  and  may  even  be  the  composition  of 
its  founder.  Many  arguments  are  adduced  for  this  author- 
ship.2 The  book  has  otherwise  been  deemed  a  production 
of  the  last  days  of  the  school  of  law  at  Rome  just  before  the 
school  was  broken  up  by  some  catastrophe  as  to  which  there 
is  little  information.  In  that  case  the  work  would  belong 
to  the  closing  years  of  the  eleventh  century,  whereas  the 
authorship  of  Irnerius  would  bring  it  to  the  beginning  of  the 
twelfth.  At  all  events,  its  lucid  jurisprudential  reasoning 
precludes  the  likelihood  of  an  earlier  origin. 

This  Summa  is  an  exposition  of  Roman  law,  following 
the  arrangement  and  titles  of  Justinian's  Codex,  but  making 
extensive  use  of  the  Digest.  It  thus  contains  Roman  juris- 
prudential law,  and  may  be  regarded  as  a  compendious  text- 
book for  law  students,  forming  apparently  the  basis  of  a 
course  of  lectures  which  treated  the  topics  more  at  length.3 
The  author's  command  of  his  material  is  admirable,  and  his 
presentation  masterly.  Whether  he  was  Irnerius  or  some 
one  else,  he  was  a  great  teacher.  His  work  may  be  also 
called  academic,  in  that  his  standpoint  is  always  that  of  the 
Justinianean  law,  although  he  limits  his  exposition  to  those 
topics  which  had  living  interest  for  the  twelfth  century. 
Private  substantial  law  forms  the  chief  matter,  but  procedure 
is  set  forth  and  penal  law  touched  upon.  The  author 

1  For  instance,  Brack,  ii.  12,  "  De  juris  et  fact!  ignorantia,"  is  short  and  clear. 
It  follows  mainly  Digest  xxii.  6. 

2  Summa  Codicis  des  Irnerius^  ed.  by  Fitting  (Berlin,  1894).   See  Introduction, 
and  also  Fitting  in  Zeitschrift  fur  Rechtsgeschichte,  Bd.  xvii.  (1896),  Romanischf 
Abteilung,  pp.  1-96. 

3  Cf.  Summa  Codicis  frnerii,  vii.  23,  and  vii.  31.  I. 


256  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

appreciates  the  historical  development  of  the  Roman  law 
and  the  character  of  its  various  sources — praetorian  law, 
constitutiones  principum,  and  responsa  prudentium.  He  also 
shows  independence,  and  a  regard  for  legal  reasoning  and 
the  demands  of  justice.  While  he  sets  forth  the  jus  civile, 
his  exposition  and  approval  follow  the  dictates  of  the  jus 
nattirale. 

"The  established  laws  are  to  be  understood  benignly,  so  as  to 
preserve  their  spirit,  and  prevent  their  departure  from  equity ;  for 
the  Judge  recognizes  ordainments  as  legitimate  when  they  conform 
to  the  principles  of  justice  (ratio  equitatis).  .  .  .  Interpretation  is 
sometimes  general  and  imperative,  as  when  the  lawgiver  declares 
it :  then  it  must  be  applied  not  only  to  the  matter  for  which  it  is 
announced,  but  in  all  like  cases.  Sometimes  an  interpretation  is 
imperative,  but  only  for  the  special  case,  like  the  interpretation 
which  is  declared  by  those  adjudicating  a  cause.  It  is  then  to  be 
accepted  in  that  cause,  but  not  in  like  instances ;  for  not  by  pre- 
cedents, but  by  the  laws  are  matters  to  be  adjusted.  There  is 
another  kind  of  interpretation  which  binds  no  one,  that  made  by 
teachers  explaining  an  ambiguous  law,  for  although  it  may  be 
admissible  because  sound,  still  it  compels  no  one.  For  every 
interpretation  should  so  be  made  as  not  to  depart  from  justice,  and 
that  all  absurdity  may  be  avoided  and  no  door  opened  to  fraud." * 

One  must  suppose  that  such  concise  statements  were 
explained  and  qualified  in  the  author's  lectures.  But  even 
as  they  stand,  they  afford  an  exposition  of  Roman  principles 
of  interpretation.  Not  only  under  the  Roman  Empire,  but 
subsequently  in  mediaeval  times,  the  Roman  lawyer  or  the 
canonist  did  not  pay  the  deference  to  adjudicated  precedent 
which  is  felt  by  the  English  or  American  judge.  The 
passage  in  the  Codex  which  "  Irnerius "  was  expounding 
commands  that  the  judge,  in  deciding  a  case,  shall  follow 
the  laws  and  the  reasoning  of  the  great  jurists,  rather  than 
the  decision  of  a  like  controversy. 

Since  the  author  of  this  Summa  weighs  the  justice,  the 
reason,  and  the  convenience  of  the  laws,  and  compares  them 
with  each  other,  his  book  is  a  work  of  jurisprudence.  Its 
qualities  may  be  observed  in  its  discussion  of  possession  and 
the  rights  arising  therefrom.  The  writer  has  just  been 

1  Summa  Codicis  Irnerii,  i.  14.  The  corresponding  passages  in  Justinian's 
Codification  are  Dig.  i.  3,  lex  12  and  38,  and  Codex  vii.  45,  lex  13. 


CHAP,  xxxin     ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  257 

expounding  the  usucapio,  an  institution  of  the  jus  civile 
strictly  speaking,  whereby  the  law  of  Rome  in  certain 
instances  protected  and,  after  three  years,  perfected,  the  title 
to  property  which  one  had  in  good  faith  acquired  from  a 
vendor  who  was  not  the  owner  : 

"  Now  we  must  discuss  the  ratio  possessions.  Usucapio  in  the 
jus  civile  hinges  on  possession,  and  ownership  by  the  jus  naturale 
may  take  its  origin  in  possession.  There  are  many  differences  in 
the  ways  of  acquiring  possession,  which  must  be  considered.  And 
since  in  the  constitutiones  and  responsa  prudentium  divers  reasons  are 
adduced  regarding  possession,  my  associates  have  begged  that  I 
would  expound  this  important  and  obscure  subject  in  which  is 
mingled  the  ratio  both  of  the  civil  and  the  natural  law.  So  I  will 
do  my  best.  First  one  must  consider  what  possession  is,  how  it  is 
acquired,  maintained,  or  lost.  Possession  (here  the  author  follows 
Paulus  and  Labeo  in  the  Digest}  is  as  when  one's  feet  are  set  upon 
a  thing,  when  body  naturally  rests  on  body.  To  acquire  possession 
is  to  begin  to  possess.  Herein  one  considers  both  the  fact  and  the 
right.  The  fact  arises  through  ourselves  or  our  representative.  It 
is  understood  differently  as  to  movables  and  as  to  land ;  for  the 
movable  we  take  in  our  hand,  but  we  take  possession  of  a  farm 
by  going  upon  it  with  this  intent  and  laying  hold  of  a  sod.  The 
intent  to  possess  is  crucial.  Thus  a  ring  put  in  the  hand  of  a 
sleeper  is  not  possessed  for  lack  of  intent  on  his  part.  You  possess 
naturally  when  with  mind  and  body  (yours  or  another's  who 
represents  you)  you  hold  or  sit  upon  with  intent  to  possess.  Cor- 
poreal things  you  properly  possess,  and  acquire  possession  of,  by 
your  own  or  your  agent's  hand.  In  the  same  manner  you  retain. 
Incorporeal  things  cannot  be  possessed  properly  speaking,  but  the 
civil  law  accords  a  quasi  possession  of  them." 

Then  follows  a  discussion  of  the  persons  through  whom 
another  may  have  possession,  and  of  the  various  modes  of 
possessing  longa  manu  without  actual  touch : 

"It  is  one  thing  when  the  possession  begins  with  you,  and 
another  when  it  is  transferred  to  you  by  a  prior  possessor :  for 
possession  begins  in  three  ways,  by  occupation,  accession,  and 
transfer.  You  occupy  the  thing  that  belongs  to  no  one.  By 
accession  you  acquire  possession  in  two  ways.  Thus  the  increment 
may  be  possessed,  as  the  fruit  of  thy  handmaid ;  or  the  accession 
consists  in  the  union  with  a  larger  thing  which  is  yours,  as  when 
alluvium  is  deposited  on  your  land.  Again  possession  is  transferred 
to  you," 

voluntarily   or   otherwise.      He   now   discusses    the    various 
VOL.  II  S 


258  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

modes  in  which  possession  is  acquired  by  transfer,  then  the 
nature  of  the  justa  or  injusta  causa  with  which  possession 
may  begin,  and  the  effect  on  the  rights  of  the  possessor,  and 
then  some  matters  more  peculiar  to  the  time  of  Justinian. 
After  which  he  passes  to  the  loss  of  possession,  and  concludes 
with  saying  that  he  has  endeavoured  to  go  over  the  whole 
subject,  and  whatever  is  omitted  or  insufficiently  treated,  he 
begs  that  it  be  laid  to  the  fault  of  humanae  imbecillitatis. 
The  discussion  reads  like  a  carefully  drawn  outline  which  his 
lecture  should  expand.1 

The  knowledge  and  understanding  of  the  Roman  law  in 
the  mediaeval  centuries  should  be  viewed  in  conjunction  with 
the  general  progress  of  intellectual  aptitude  during  the  same 
periods.  The  growth  of  legal  knowledge  will  then  show 
itself  as  a  part  of  mediaeval  development,  as  one  phase 
of  the  flowering  of  the  mediaeval  intellect.  For  the  treat- 
ment of  Roman  law  presents  stages  essentially  analogous  to 
those  by  which  the  Middle  Ages  reached  their  understand- 
ing and  appropriation  of  other  portions  of  their  great 
inheritance  from  classical  antiquity  and  the  Christianity  of 
the  Fathers.  Let  us  recapitulate  :  the  Roman  law,  adapted, 
or  corrupted  if  one  will,  epitomized  and  known  chiefly  in  its 
later  enacted  forms,  was  never  unapplied  nor  the  study  of  it 
quite  abandoned.  It  constituted  a  great  part  of  the  law  of 
Italy  and  southern  France  ;  in  these  two  regions  likewise 
was  its  study  least  neglected.  We  have  observed  the  super- 
ficial and  mainly  linguistic  nature  of  the  glosses  which  this 
early  mediaeval  period  interlined  or  wrote  on  the  margins  of 
the  source-books  drawn  upon,  also  the  rude  and  barbarous 
nature  of  the  earlier  summaries  and  compilations.  They 
were  helps  to  a  crude  practical  knowledge  of  the  law. 
Gradually  the  treatment  seems  to  become  more  intelligent,  a 
little  nearer  the  level  of  the  matter  excerpted  or  made  use 
of.  Through  the  eleventh  century  it  is  evident  that  social 
conditions  were  demanding  and  also  facilitating  an  increase 
in  legal  knowledge  ;  and  at  that  century's  close  a  by  no 
means  stupid  compilation  appears,  the  Petri  exceptiones,  and 
perhaps  such  a  fairly  intelligent  manual  for  elementary 

1  Summa  Codicis  Inurii,  vii.  22  and  23.      The  chief  Justinianean  sources  are 
Dig.  xli.  2,  and  Cod.  xii.  32. 


CHAP,  xxxm     ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  259 

instruction  as  the  BracJiylogus.  These  works  indicate  that 
the  instruction  in  the  law  was  improving.  We  have  also 
the  sparse  references  to  schools  of  law,  at  Rome,  at  Ravenna, 
at  Orleans.  Then  we  come  upon  the  Summa  Codicis  called 
of  Irnerius,  of  uncertain  provenance,  like  the  Petrus  and 
Brachylogus.  But  there  is  no  need  to  be  informed  specifically 
of  its  place  and  date  in  order  to  recognize  its  advance  in 
legal  intelligence,  in  veritable  jurisprudence.  The  writer  was 
a  master  of  the  law,  an  adept  in  its  exposition,  and  his  oral 
teaching  must  have  been  of  a  high  order.  With  this  book 
we  have  unquestionably  touched  the  level  of  the  strong  be- 
ginnings of  the  greatest  of  mediaeval  schools  of  Roman  law. 

Its  seat  was  Bologna,  one  of  the  chief  centres  of  the 
civic  and  commercial  life  of  Lombardy.  The  Lombards 
themselves  had  shown  a  persistent  legal  genius  :  their  own 
Teutonic  codes,  enacted  in  Italy,  had  maintained  themselves 
in  that  land  of  Roman  law  and  custom.  Lombard  codifica- 
tion had  almost  reached  a  jurisprudence  of  its  own,  at  Pavia, 
the  juridical  centre  of  Lombardy.  The  provisions  of  various 
codes  had  been  compared  and  put  together  in  a  sort  of 
Concordia,  as  early  as  the  ninth  century.1  Possibly  the 
rivalry  of  Lombard  law  might  stimulate  those  learned  in  the 
law  of  Rome  to  sharper  efforts  to  expound  it  and  prove  its 
superiority.  Moreover,  all  sides  of  civic  life  and  culture  were 
flourishing  in  that  region  where  novel  commercial  relations 
were  calling  for  a  corresponding  progress  in  the  law,  and 
especially  for  a  better  knowledge  of  the  Roman  law  which 
alone  afforded  provision  for  their  regulation. 

As  some  long  course  of  human  development  approaches 
its  climax,  the  advance  apparently  becomes  so  rapid  as  to 
give  the  impression  of  something  suddenly  happening,  a 
sudden  leap  upward  of  the  human  spirit.  The  velocity  of 
the  movement  seems  to  quicken  as  the  summit  is  neared. 
One  easily  finds  examples,  for  instance  the  fifth  century 
before  Christ  in  Greek  art,  or  the  fourth  century  in  Greek 
philosophy,  or  again  the  excellence  so  quickly  reached 
apparently  by  the  Middle  High  German  poetry  just  about 
the  year  1200.  But  may  not  the  seeming  suddenness  of 

1  See  Salvioli,  Manualf,   etc.,   pp.    65-68 ;    ibid.   L'  Istruzione  pubblica  in 
Italia,  pp.  72-75  ;   Brunner,  Deutsche  Rechtsgeschichte>  i.  p.  387  sqq. 


260  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

the  phenomenon  be  due  to  lack  of  information  as  to 
antecedents  ?  and  the  flare  of  the  final  achievement  even 
darken  what  went  before  ?  Yet,  in  fact,  as  a  movement 
nears  its  climax,  it  may  become  more  rapid.  For,  as  the 
promoting  energies  and  favouring  conditions  meet  in  con- 
junction, their  joint  action  becomes  more  effective.  Forces 
free  themselves  from  cumbrances  and  draw  aid  from  one 
another.  Thus  when  the  gradual  growth  of  intellectual 
faculty  effects  a  conjunction  with  circumstances  which  offer 
a  fair  field,  and  the  prizes  of  life  as  a  reward,  a  rapid  increase 
of  power  may  evince  itself  in  novel  and  timely  productivity. 

This  may  suggest  the  manner  of  the  apparently  sudden 
rise  of  the  Bologna  school  of  Roman  law,  which,  be  it  noted, 
took  place  but  a  little  before  the  time  of  Gratian's  achieve- 
ment in  the  Canon  law,  itself  contemporaneous  with  the 
appearance  of  Peter  Lombard's  novel  Books  of  Sentences} 
The  preparation,  although  obscure,  existed  ;  and  the  school 
after  its  commencement  passed  onward  through  stages  of 
development,  to  its  best  accomplishment,  and  then  into  a 
condition  of  stasis,  if  not  decline.  Irnerius  apparently  was 
its  first  master  ;  and  of  his  life  little  is  known.  He  was  a 
native  of  Bologna.  His  name  as  causidicus  is  attached  to  a 
State  paper  of  the  year  1113.  Thereafter  he  appears  in  the 
service  of  the  German  emperor  Henry  V.  We  have  no 
sure  trace  of  him  after  1 1 1 8,  though  there  is  no  reason  to 
suppose  that  he  did  not  live  and  labour  for  some  further 
years.  He  had  taught  the  Arts  at  Ravenna  and  Bologna 
before  teaching,  or  perhaps  seriously  studying,  the  law.  But 
his  career  as  a  teacher  of  the  law  doubtless  began  before  the 
year  1113,  when  he  is  first  met  with  as  a  man  of  affairs. 
Accounts  agree  in  ascribing  to  him  the  foundation  of  the 
school. 

Unless  the  Summa  Codicis  already  mentioned,  and  a  book 
of  Quaestiones,  be  really  his,  his  glosses  upon  Justinian's 
Digest,  Codex,  and  Novels,  are  all  we  have  of  him  ; 2  of  the 

1  Post,  Chapter  XXXV.,  I. 

2  The  Bologna  school  is  commonly  called  the  school  of  the  glossators.     Their 
work   was  to  expound  the  law  of  Justinian  ;  and  their  glosses,  or  explanatory 
notes,  were  the  part  of  their  writings  which  had  the  most  permanent  influence. 
The  glosses  were  originally  written  between  the  lines  or  on  the  margins  of  the 
codices  of  the  Digest,  Codex,  Novels,  and  Institutes. 


CHAP,  xxxin     ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  261 

rest  we  know  by  report.  The  glosses  themselves  indicate 
that  this  jurist  had  been  a  grammarian,  and  used  the 
learning  of  his  former  profession  in  his  exposition  of  the  law. 
His  interlinear  glosses  are  explanations  of  words,  and  would 
seem  to  represent  his  earlier,  more  tentative,  work  when  he 
was  himself  learning  the  meaning  of  the  law.  But  the 
marginal  glosses  are  short  expositions  of  the  passages  to 
which  they  are  attached,  and  perhaps  belong  to  the  time  of 
his  fuller  command  over  the  legal  material.  They  indicate, 
besides,  a  critical  consideration  of  the  text,  and  even  of  the 
original  connection  which  the  passage  in  the  Digest  held  in 
the  work  of  the  jurisconsult  from  which  it  had  been  taken. 
Some  of  them  show  an  understanding  of  the  chronological 
sequence  of  the  sources  of  the  Roman  law,  e.g.  that  the  law- 
making  power  had  existed  in  the  people  and  then  passed  to 
the  emperors.  These  glosses  of  Irnerius  represent  a  clear 
advance  in  jurisprudence  over  any  previous  legal  comment 
subsequent  to  the  Interpretatio  attached  to  the  Breviarium. 
It  was  also  part  of  his  plan  to  equip  his  manuscripts  of  the 
Codex  with  extracts  taken  from  the  text  of  the  Novels,  and 
not  from  the  Epitome  of  Julian.  He  appears  also  as  a 
lawyer  versed  in  the  practice  of  the  law.  For  he  wrote  a 
book  of  forms  for  notaries  and  a  treatise  on  procedure, 
neither  of  which  is  extant.1 

The  accomplishment  of  the  Bologna  school  may  be 
judged  more  fully  from  the  works,  still  extant,  of  some  of  its 
chief  representatives  in  the  generations  following  Irnerius. 
A  worthy  one  was  Placentinus,  a  native  of  Piacenza.  The 
year  of  his  birth  is  unknown,  but  he  died  in  1192,  after  a 
presumably  full  span  of  life,  passed  chiefly  as  a  student  and 
teacher  of  the  law.  He  taught  in  Mantua  and  Montpellier, 
as  well  as  in  Bologna.  He  was  an  accomplished  jurist  and 
a  lover  of  the  classic  literature.  His  work  entitled  De 
varietate  actionum  was  apparently  the  first  attempt  to  set 
forth  the  Roman  law  in  an  arrangement  and  form  that  did 
not  follow  the  sources.2  He  opens  his  treatise  with  an 

1  Savigny  gives  examples  of  Irnerius's  glosses  in  an  appendix  to  the  fourth 
volume  of  his   Gesehichte.      Pescatore   (Die    Classen  des  Irnerius,   Greifswald, 
1888)  maintains  that  Savigny  overstates  the  difference  between  the  interlinear 
and  the  marginal  glosses  of  Irnerius. 

2  On  Placentinus  see  Savigny,  Gesehichte,  iv.  pp.  244-285. 


262  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

allegory  of  a  noble  dame,  hight  Jurisprudentia,  within  the 
circle  of  whose  sweet  and  honied  utterances  many  eager 
youths  were  thronging.  Placentinus  drew  near,  and  received 
from  her  the  book  which  he  now  gives  to  others.1  This  little 
allegory  savours  of  the  De  consolatione  of  Boethius,  or,  if  one 
will,  of  Capella's  De  nuptiis  Philologiae. 

The  most  admirable  surviving  work  of  Placentinus  is  his 
Summa  of  the  Codex  of  Justinian.  His  autobiographical 
proemium  shows  him  not  lacking  in  self-esteem,  and  tells 
why  he  undertook  the  work.  He  had  thought  at  first  to 
complete  the  Summa  of  Rogerius,  an  older  glossator,  but 
then  decided  to  put  that  book  to  sleep,  and  compose  a  full 
Summa  of  the  Codex  himself,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end. 
This  by  the  favour  of  God  he  has  done ;  it  is  the  work  of 
his  own  hands,  from  head  to  heel,  and  all  the  matter  is  his 
own — not  borrowed.  Next  he  wrote  for  beginners  a  Summa 
of  the  Institutes.  After  which  he  returned  to  his  own  town, 
and  shortly  proceeded  thence  to  Bologna,  whither  he  had 
been  called.  "  There  in  the  citadel  (in  castello]  for  two 
years  I  expounded  the  laws  to  students ;  I  brought  the 
other  teachers  to  the  threshold  of  envy ;  I  emptied  their 
benches  of  students.  The  hidden  places  of  the  law  I  laid 
open,  I  reconciled  the  conflicts  of  enactments,  I  unlocked 
the  secrets  most  potently."  His  success  was  great,  and  he 
was  besought  to  continue  his  course  of  lectures.  He 
complied,  and  remained  two  years  more,  and  then  returned 
to  Montpellier,  in  order  to  compose  a  Summa  of  the  Digest? 
If  indeed  Placentinus  speaks  bombastically  of  his  work,  its 
excellence  excuses  him.  His  well-earned  reputation  as  a 
jurist  and  scholar  long  endured. 

Quaestiones,  Distinctions,  Libri  disputationum,  Summae  of 
the  Codex  or  the  Institutions,  and  other  legal  writings,  are 
extant  in  goodly  bulk  and  number  from  the  Bologna  school. 
The  names  of  the  men  are  almost  legion,  and  many  were  of 
great  repute  in  their  day  both  as  jurists  and  as  men  of 
affairs.  We  may  mention  Azo  and  Accursius,  of  a  little 

1  Proemium  to  De  var.  actionum,  given  by  Savigny,  iv.  p.  540. 

8  This  is  from  the  proemium  attached  to  one  old  edition,  and  is  given  in  Sav. 
Ges.  iv.  p.  245.  In  an  appendix,  p.  542,  Savigny  gives  an  even  more  florid 
proemium  to  the  Summa  Codicis  from  a  manuscript. 


CHAP,  xxxin     ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  263 

later  time.  Azo's  name  appears  in  public  documents  from 
the  year  1190  to  1220 — and  he  may  have  survived  the 
latter  date  by  some  years.  His  works  were  of  such  compass 
and  excellence  as  to  supersede  those  of  his  predecessors. 
His  glosses  still  survive,  and  his  Lectura  on  the  Codex,  his 
Summae  of  the  Codex  and  the  Institutes,  and  his  Quaestiones ', 
and  Brocarda,  the  last  a  sort  of  work  stating  general  legal 
propositions  and  those  contradicting  them.  Azo's  glosses 
were  so  complete  as  to  constitute  a  continuous  exposition  of 
the  entire  legislation  of  Justinian.  His  Summae  of  the 
Codex  and  Institutes  drove  those  of  Placentinus  out  of  use, 
which  we  note  with  a  smile.1 

None  of  the  glossators  is  better  known  than  Accursius. 
He  comes  before  us  as  a  Florentine,  and  apparently  a 
peasant's  son.  He  died  an  old  man  rich  and  famous,  about 
the  year  1260.  Azo  was  his  teacher.  In  1252  he  was 
Podesta  of  Bologna,  which  indicates  the  respect  in  which 
men  held  him.  Villani,  the  Florentine  historian,  describes 
him  as  of  martial  form,  grave,  thoughtful,  even  melancholy  in 
aspect,  as  if  always  meditating ;  a  man  of  brilliant  talents 
and  extraordinary  memory,  sober  and  chaste  in  life,  but 
delighting  in  noble  vesture.  His  hearers  drank  in  the  laws 
of  living  from  his  mien  and  manners  no  less  than  from  the 
dissertations  of  his  mouth.2  Late  in  life  he  retired  to  his  villa, 
and  there  in  quiet  worked  on  his  great  Glossa  till  he  died. 

This  famous,  perhaps  all  too  famous,  Glossa  ordinaria 
was  a  digest  and,  as  it  proved,  a  final  one,  of  the  glosses 
of  his  predecessors  and  contemporaries.  He  drew  not  only 
from  their  glosses,  but  also  on  their  Summae  and  other 
writings.  He  added  a  good  deal  of  his  own.  Great  as 
was  the  feat,  the  somewhat  deadened  talent  of  a  compiler 
shows  in  the  result,  which  flattened  out  the  individual 
labours  of  so  many  jurists.  It  came  at  once  into  general 
use  in  the  courts  and  outside  of  them  ;  for  it  was  a  complete 
commentary  on  the  Justinianean  law,  so  compendious  and 
convenient  that  there  was  no  further  need  of  the  glosses  of 
earlier  men.  This  book  marked  the  turning-point  of  the 
Bologna  school,  after  which  its  productivity  lessened.  Its 

1  On  Azo,  see  Savigny,  Ges.  v.  pp.  1-44. 
*  Quoted  by  Savigny.     On  Accursius  see  Sav.  Ges.  v.  pp.  262-305. 


264  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

work  was  done  :  Codex,  Novels,  and  above  all  the  Pandects 
were  rescued  from  oblivion,  and  fully  expounded,  so  far 
as  the  matter  in  them  was  still  of  interest.  When  the 
labours  of  the  school  had  been  conveniently  heaped  together 
in  one  huge  Glossa,  there  was  no  vital  inducement  to 
do  this  work  again.  The  school  of  the  glossators  was 
functus  officio.  Naturally  with  the  lessening  of  the  call, 
productivity  diminished.  Little  was  left  to  do  save  to 
gloss  the  glosses,  an  epigonic  labour  which  would  not  attract 
men  of  talent.  Moreover,  treating  the  older  glosses,  instead 
of  the  original  text,  as  the  matter  to  be  interpreted  was 
unfavourable  to  progress  in  the  understanding  of  the  latter. 

Yet,  for  a  little,  the  breath  of  life  was  still  to  stir  in 
the  school  of  the  glossators.  There  was  a  man  of  fame, 
a  humanist  indeed,  named  Cino,  whose  beautiful  tomb  still 
draws  the  lover  of  things  lovely  to  Pistoia.  Cino  was  also 
a  jurist,  and  it  came  to  him  to  be  the  teacher  of  one  whose 
name  is  second  to  none  among  the  legists  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  This  was  Bartolus,  born  probably  in  the  year  1314 
at  Sassoferrato  in  the  duchy  of  Urbino.  He  was  a  scholar, 
learned  in  geometry  and  Hebrew,  also  a  man  of  affairs. 
He  taught  the  law  at  Pisa  and  Perugia,  and  in  the  last- 
named  town  he  died  in  1357,  not  yet  forty-four  years  old. 
Bartolus  wrote  and  compiled  full  commentaries  on  the 
entire  Corpus  juris  civilis  ;  and  yet  he  produced  no  work 
differing  in  kind  from  works  of  his  predecessors.  Moreover, 
between  him  and  the  body  of  the  law  rose  the  great  mass 
of  gloss  and  comment  already  in  existence,  through  which 
he  did  not  always  penetrate  to  the  veritable  Corpus.  Yet 
his  labours  were  inspired  with  the  energy  of  a  vigorous 
nature,  and  he  put  fresh  thoughts  into  his  commentaries.1 

The  school  of  glossators  presented  the  full  Roman  law 
to  Europe.  The  careful  and  critical  interpretation  of  the 
text  of  Justinian's  Codification,  of  the  Digest  above  all,  was 
their  great  service.  In  performing  it,  these  jurists  also  had 
educated  themselves  and  developed  their  own  intelligence. 
They  had  also  put  together  in  Summae  the  results  of  their 
own  education  in  the  law.  These  works  facilitated  legal 
study  and  sharpened  the  faculties  of  students  and  professors. 
1  On  Bartolus  see  Savigny,  Ges.  etc.  vi.  pp.  137-184. 


CHAP,  xxxm     ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  265 

Books  of  Quaestiones,  legal  disputations,  works  upon  legal 
process  and  formulae,  served  the  same  ends.1  These  men 
were  deficient  in  historical  knowledge.  Yet  they  compared 
Digest,  Codex,  and  Novels ;  they  tried  to  re-establish  the 
purity  of  the  text  ;  they  weighed  and  they  expounded. 
Theirs  was  an  intellectual  effort  to  master  the  jurisprudence 
of  Rome :  their  labours  constituted  a  renaissance  of  juris- 
prudence ;  and  the  fact  that  they  were  often  men  of  affairs 
as  well  as  professors,  kept  them  from  ignoring  the  practical 
bearings  of  the  matters  which  they  taught. 

The  work  of  the  glossators  may  be  compared  with  that 
of  the  theologian  philosophers  of  the  thirteenth  century — 
Alexander  of  Hales,  Albertus  Magnus,  Thomas  Aquinas — 
who  were  winning  for  the  world  a  new  and  comprehensive 
knowledge  of  Aristotle.  Both  jurists  and  philosophers,  in 
their  different  spheres,  carried  through  a  more  profound 
study,  and  reached  a  more  comprehensive  knowledge,  of  a 
great  store  of  antique  thought,  than  previous  mediaeval 
centuries  conceived  of.  Moreover,  the  interpretation  of 
the  Corpus  juris  was  quite  as  successful  as  the  interpreta- 
tion of  Aristotle.  It  was  in  fact  surer,  because  freer  from 
the  deflections  of  religious  motive.  No  consideration  of 
agreement  or  disagreement  with  Scripture  troubled  the 
glossators'  interpretation  of  the  Digest,  though  indeed  they 
may  have  been  interested  in  finding  support  for  whatever 
political  views  they  held  upon  the  claims  of  emperor  and 
pope.  But  this  did  not  disturb  them  as  much  as  Aristotle's 
opinion  that  the  universe  was  eternal,  worried  Albertus  and 
Aquinas. 

IV 

The  Church,  from  the  time  of  its  first  recognition  by  the 
Roman  Empire,  lived  under  the  Roman  law ; 2  and  the 
constitutions  safeguarding  its  authority  were  large  and 
ample  before  the  Empire  fell.  Constantine,  to  be  sure, 
never  dreamed  of  the  famous  "  Donation  of  Constantine " 

1  Cf.  Savigny,  Ges.  v.  pp.  222-261. 

2  "  Ecclesia  vivit  lege  Romana,"  Lex  Ribuaria,  58.     This  was  universally 
recognized,  although  the  individual  clericus  might  remain  amenable  to  the  law  of 
his  birth. 


266  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

forged  by  a  later  time,  yet  his  enactments  fairly  launched 
the  great  mediaeval  Catholic  Church  upon  the  career  which 
was  to  bring  it  more  domination  than  was  granted  in  this 
pseudo-charter  of  its  power.  A  number  of  Constantine's 
enactments  were  preserved  by  the  Theodosian  Code,  in 
which  the  powers  and  privileges  of  Church  and  clergy  were 
portentously  set  forth. 

The  Theodosian  Code  freed  the  property  of  the  Church 
from  most  fiscal  burdens,  and  the  clergy  from  taxes,  from 
public  and  military  service,  and  from  many  other  obligations 
which  sometimes  the  Code  groups  under  the  head  of  sordida 
munera.  The  Church  might  receive  all  manner  of  bequests, 
and  it  inherited  the  property  of  such  of  its  clergy  as  did 
not  leave  near  relatives  surviving  them.  Its  property 
generally  was  inalienable ;  and  the  clergy  were  accorded 
many  special  safeguards.  Slaves  might  be  manumitted  in 
a  church.  The  church  edifices  were  declared  asylums  of 
refuge  from  pursuers,  a  privilege  which  had  passed  to  the 
churches  from  the  heathen  fanes  and  the  statues  of  the 
emperors.  Constitution  after  constitution  was  hurled 
against  the  Church's  enemies.  The  Theodosian  Code  has 
one  chapter  containing  sixty-six  constitutions  directed 
against  heretics,  the  combined  result  of  which  was  to 
deprive  them,  if  not  of  life  and  property,  at  least  of  protected 
legal  existence. 

Of  enormous  import  was  the  sweeping  recognition  on 
the  Empire's  part  of  the  validity  of  episcopal  jurisdiction. 
No  bishop  might  be  summoned  before  a  secular  court  as  a 
defendant,  or  compelled  to  give  testimony.  Falsely  to 
accuse  one  of  the  clergy  rendered  the  accuser  infamous. 
All  matters  pertaining  to  religion  and  church  discipline 
might  be  brought  only  before  the  bishop's  court,  which 
likewise  had  plenary  jurisdiction  over  controversies  among 
the  clergy.  It  was  also  open  to  the  laity  for  the  settlement 
of  civil  disputes.  The  command  not  to  go  to  law  before 
the  heathen  came  down  from  Paul  (i  Cor.  vi.),  and  together 
with  the  severed  and  persecuted  condition  of  the  early 
Christian  communities,  may  be  regarded  as  the  far  source 
of  the  episcopal  jurisdiction,  which  thus  divinely  sanctioned 
tended  to  extend  its  arbitrament  to  all  manner  of  legal 


CHAP,  xxxni     ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  267 

controversies.1  To  be  sure,  under  the  Christian  Roman 
Empire  the  authority  of  the  Church  as  well  as  its  privileges 
rested  upon  imperial  law.  Yet  the  emperors  recognized, 
rather  than  actually  created,  the  ecclesiastical  authority.  And 
when  the  Empire  was  shattered,  there  stood  the  Church  erect 
amid  the  downfall  of  the  imperial  government,  and  capable 
of  supporting  itself  in  the  new  Teutonic  kingdoms. 

The  constitutions  of  Christian  emperors  did  not  from 
their  own  force  and  validity  become  Ecclesiastical  or  Canon 
law — the  law  relating  to  Christians  as  such,  and  especially 
to  the  Church  and  its  functions.  The  source  of  that  law 
was  God  ;  the  Church  was  its  declarative  organ.  Accept- 
ance on  the  Church's  part  was  requisite  before  any  secular 
law  could  become  a  law  of  the  Church. 

Canon  law  may  be  taken  to  include  theology,  or  may 
be  limited  to  the  law  of  the  organization  and  functions  of 
the  Church  taken  in  a  large  sense  as  inclusive  of  the  laity 
in  their  relations  to  the  religion  of  Christ.2  Obviously 
part  comes  from  Christ  directly,  through  the  Old  Testament 
as  well  as  New.  The  other  part,  and  in  bulk  far  greater, 
emanates  from  His  foundation,  the  Church,  under  the  guid- 
ance of  His  Spirit,  and  may  be  added  to  and  modified  by 
the  Church  from  age  to  age.  It  is  expressed  in  custom, 
universal  and  established,  and  it  is  found  in  written  form 
in  the  works  of  the  Fathers,  in  the  decrees  of  Councils,  in 
the  decretals  of  the  popes,  and  in  the  concordats  and  conven- 
tions with  secular  sovereignties.  From  the  beginning,  canon 
law  tacitly  or  expressly  adopted  the  constitutions  of  the 
Christian  emperors  relating  to  the  Church,  as  well  as  the 
Roman  law  generally,  under  which  the  Church  lived  in  its 
civil  relations. 

The  Church  arose  within  the  Roman  Empire,  and  who 
shall  say  that  its  wonderfully  efficient  and  complete  organiza- 
tion at  the  close  of  the  patristic  period  was  not  the  final 
creation  of  the  legal  and  constructive  genius  of  Rome, 

1  For  these   matters  see   primarily  the  sixteenth   book  of  the   Theodosian 
Code,  and  book  L  chap.   27.     Also  the  suspected  Constitutiones  Sirmondianae 
attached  to  that  Code.     Justinian's  Codex  and  Novellae  add   much.     Zorn,  in 
his  Kirchenrecht,  p.  29  sqq. ,  gives  a  convenient  synopsis  of  the  matter. 

2  One  observes    that  the   opening  chapter  of  Justinian's  Digest  speaks   of 
jurisprudentia  as  knowledge  of  divine  as  well  as  human  matters. 


268  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

newly  inspired  by  the  spirit  of  Christianity  ?  But  the 
centre  of  interest  had  been  transferred  from  earth  to  heaven, 
and  human  aims  had  been  recast  by  the  Gospel  and  the 
understanding  of  it  reached  by  Christian  doctors.  Evidently 
since  the  ideals  of  the  Church  were  to  be  other  than  those 
of  the  Roman  Empire,  the  law  which  it  accepted  or  evolved 
would  have  ideals  different  from  those  of  the  Roman  law. 
If  the  great  Roman  jurists  created  a  legal  formulation  and 
rendering  of  justice  adequate  for  the  highly  developed  social 
and  commercial  needs  of  Roman  citizens,  the  law  of  the 
Church,  while  it  might  borrow  phrases,  rules,  and  even 
general  principles,  from  that  system,  could  not  fail  to  put 
new  meaning  in  them.  For  example,  the  constant  will  to 
render  each  his  due,  which  was  justitia  in  the  Roman  law, 
might  involve  different  considerations  where  the  soul's 
salvation,  and  not  the  just  allotment  of  the  goods  of  this 
world,  was  the  law's  chief  aim.  Again,  what  new  meaning 
might  attach  to  the  honeste  vivere  and  the  alterum  non 
laedere  of  pagan  legal  ethics.  Honeste  vivere  might  mean 
to  do  no  sin  imperilling  the  soul ;  alterum  non  laedere  would 
acquire  the  meaning  of  doing  nothing  to  another  which 
might  impede  his  progress  toward  salvation.  Injuries  to  a 
man  in  his  temporalities  were  less  important. 

Further,  Christianity  although  conceived  as  a  religion 
for  all  mankind,  was  founded  on  a  definite  code  and  revela- 
tion. The  primary  statement  was  contained  in  the  canoni- 
cal books  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments.  These  were 
for  all  men,  universal  in  application  and  of  irrefragable 
validity  and  truth.  Here  was  some  correspondence  to  the 
conception  of  the  jus  gentium  as  representative  of  universal 
principles  of  justice  and  expediency,  and  therefore  as  equiva- 
lent to  the  jus  naturale.  There  was  something  of  logical 
necessity  in  the  transference  of  this  conception  to  the  law 
of  Christ.  Says  Gratian  at  the  beginning  of  his  Decretum : 
"  It  is  jus  naturae  which  is  contained  in  the  Law  and  the 
Gospel,  by  which  every  one  is  commanded  to  do  to  another 
as  he  would  be  done  by,  and  forbidden  to  inflict  on  him 
what  he  does  not  wish  to  happen  to  himself."  Since  the 
Law  and  the  Gospel  represent  the  final  law  of  life  for  all 
men,  they  are  par  excellence  the  jus  naturae,  as  well  as  lex 


CHAP,  xxxui     ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  269 

divina.  Gratian  quotes  from  Augustine  :  "  Divinum  jus  in 
scripturis  divinis  habemus,  humanum  in  legibus  regum." * 
And  then  adds  :  "  By  its  authority  the  jus  naturale  prevails 
over  custom  and  constitution.  Whatever  in  customs  or 
writings  is  contrary  to  the  jus  naturale  is  to  be  held  vain 
and  invalid."  Again  he  says  more  explicitly :  "  Since 
therefore  nothing  is  commanded  by  natural  law  other  than 
what  God  wills  to  be,  and  nothing  is  forbidden  except  what 
God  prohibits,  and  since  nothing  may  be  found  in  the 
canonical  Scripture  except  what  is  in  the  divine  laws,  the 
laws  will  rest  divinely  in  nature  (divine  leges  natura  con- 
sistent). It  is  evident,  that  whatever  is  proved  to  be 
contrary  to  the  divine  will  or  canonical  Scripture,  is  like- 
wise opposed  to  natural  law.  Wherefore  whatever  should 
give  way  before  divine  will  or  Scripture  or  the  divine  laws, 
over  that  ought  the  jus  naturale  to  prevail.  Therefore 
whatever  ecclesiastical  or  secular  constitutions  are  contrary 
to  natural  law  are  to  be  shut  out."  - 

The  canon  law  is  a  vast  sea.  Its  growth,  its  age-long 
agglomerate  accretion,  the  systematization  of  its  huge 
contents,  have  long  been  subjects  for  controversialists  and 
scholars.  Its  sources  were  as  multifarious  as  those  of  the 
Roman  law.  First  the  Scriptures  and  the  early  quasi- 
apostolic  and  pseudo-apostolic  writings ;  then  the  traditions 
of  primitive  Christianity  and  also  the  writings  of  the  Fathers  ; 
likewise  ecclesiastical  customs,  long  accepted  and  legitimate, 
and  finally  the  two  great  written  sources,  the  decretals  or 
decisions  of  the  popes  and  the  decrees  of  councils.  From 
patristic  times  collections  were  made  of  the  last.  These 
collections  from  a  chronological  gradually  acquired  a  topical 
and  more  systemic  arrangement,  which  the  compilers 
followed  more  completely  after  the  opening  of  the  tenth 
century.  The  decisions  of  the  popes  also  had  been  collected, 
and  then  were  joined  to  conciliar  compilations  and  arranged 
after  the  same  topical  plan. 

In  all  of  them  there  was  unauthentic  matter,  accepted 
as  if  its  pseudo-authorship  or  pseudo-source  were  genuine. 
But  in  the  stormy  times  of  the  ninth  century  following  the 

1  Decretum,  i.  dist.  viii.  c.  i. 
2  Decretum,  i.  dist.  ix.  c.  xi.  ;  see  ibid.  dist.  xiii.,  opening. 


270  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

death  of  Charlemagne,  the  method  of  argument  through 
forged  authority  was  exceptionally  creative.  It  produced 
two  masterpieces  which  won  universal  acceptance.  The 
first  was  a  collection  of  false  Capitularies  ascribed  to 
Charlemagne  and  Louis  the  Pious,  and  ostensibly  the  work 
of  a  certain  Benedictus  Levita,  deacon  of  the  Church  of 
Mainz,  who  worked  in  the  middle  of  the  century.  Far 
more  famous  and  important  was  the  book  of  False  Decretals, 
put  together  and  largely  written,  that  is  forged,  about  the 
same  time,  probably  in  the  diocese  of  Rheims,  and  appear- 
ing as  the  work  of  Saint  Isidore  of  Seville.  This  contained 
many  forged  letters  of  the  early  popes  and  other  forged 
matter,  including  the  Epistle  or  "  Donation  "  of  Constantine  ; 
also  genuine  papal  letters  and  conciliar  decrees.  These 
false  collections  were  accepted  by  councils  and  popes,  and 
formed  part  of  subsequent  compilations. 

From  the  tenth  century  onward  many  such  compilations 
were  made,  all  of  them  uncritical  as  to  the  genuineness  of 
the  matter  taken,  and  frequently  ill-arranged  and  discordant. 
They  were  destined  to  be  superseded  by  the  great  work  in 
which  appears  the  better  methods  and  more  highly  trained 
intelligence  developing  at  the  Bologna  School  in  the  first 
part  of  the  twelfth  century.  Its  author  was  Gratianus,  a 
monk  of  the  monastery  of  St.  Felix  at  Bologna.  He  was 
a  younger  contemporary  of  Irnerius  and  of  Peter  Lombard. 
Legend  made  him  the  latter's  brother,  with  some  pro- 
priety ;  for  the  compiler  of  those  epoch-making  Sentences 
represents  the  same  stage  in  the  appropriation  of  the 
patristic  theological  heritage  of  the  Middle  Ages,  that 
Gratian  represents  in  the  handling  of  the  canon  law.  The 
Lombard's  Sentences  made  a  systematic  and  even  harmoniz- 
ing presentation  of  the  theology  of  the  Fathers  in  their 
own  language ;  and  the  equally  immortal  Decretum  of 
Gratian  accomplished  a  like  work  for  the  canon  law. 
This  is  the  name  by  which  his  work  is  known,  but  not  the 
name  he  gave  it.  That  appears  to  have  been  Concordia 
discordantium  canonum^  which  indicates  his  methodical 
presentation  of  his  matter  and  his  endeavour  to  reconcile 
conflicting  propositions. 

The  first  part  of  the  Decretum  was  entitled  "  De  jure 


CHAP,  xxxni     ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  271 

naturae  et  constitutionis."  It  presents  the  sources  of  the 
law,  the  Church's  organization  and  administration,  the 
ordination  and  ranking  of  the  clergy,  the  election  and 
consecration  of  bishops,  the  authority  of  legates  and 
primates.  The  second  part  treats  of  the  procedure  of 
ecclesiastical  courts,  also  the  law  regulating  the  property  of 
the  Church,  the  law  of  monks  and,  the  contract  of  marriage. 
The  third  part  is  devoted  to  the  Sacraments  and  the 
Liturgy. 

Gratian's  usual  method  is  as  follows :  He  will  open 
with  an  authoritative  proposition.  If  he  finds  it  universally 
accepted,  it  stands  as  valid.  But  if  there  are  opposing 
statements,  he  tries  to  reconcile  them,  either  pointing  out 
the  difference  in  date  (for  the  law  of  the  Church  may  be 
progressive),  or  showing  that  one  of  the  discordant  rules 
had  but  local  or  otherwise  limited  application,  or  that 
the  first  proposition  is  the  rule,  while  the  others  make 
the  exceptions.  If  he  still  fails  to  establish  concord,  he 
searches  to  find  which  rule  had  been  followed  in  the  Roman 
Church,  and  accepts  that  as  authoritative.  A  rule  being 
thus  made  certain,  he  proceeds  with  subdivisions  and 
distinctions,  treating  them  as  deductions  from  the  main 
rule  and  adjusting  the  supporting  texts.  Or  he  will  suppose 
a  controversy  (causa)  and  discuss  its  main  and  secondary 
issues.  Throughout  he  accompanies  his  authoritative  matter 
with  his  own  commentary — commonly  cited  as  the  Dicta 
Gratiani}  The  Decretum  was  characterized  by  sagacity 
of  interpretation  and  reconcilement,  by  vast  learning,  and 
clear  ordering  of  the  matter.  Only  it  was  uncritical  as  to 
the  genuineness  of  its  materials  ;  and  a  number  of  Gratian's 
own  statements  were  subsequently  disapproved  in  papal 
decretals.  The  Dicta  Gratiani  never  received  such  formal 
sanction  by  pope  or  council  as  the  writings  of  Roman 
jurists  received  by  being  taken  into  Justinian's  Digest. 

The  papal  decretals  had  become  the  great  source  of 
canonical  law.  Gratian's  work  was  soon  supplemented  by 
various  compilations  known  as  Appendices  ad  Decretum  or 
Decretales  extravagantes,  to  wit,  those  which  the  Decretum 

1  Tardif,  Sources  du  droit  canonique,  p.   175  sqq.t  has  been  chiefly  followed 
here. 


272  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

did  not  contain.  These,  however,  were  superseded  by  the 
collection,  or  rather  codification,  made  at  the  command  of 
the  great  canonist  Gregory  IX.  and  completed  in  the  year 
1234.  This  authoritative  work  preserved  Gratian's  Decretum 
intact,  but  suppressed,  or  abridged  and  reordered,  the 
decretals  contained  in  subsequent  collections.  Arranged 
in  five  books,  it  forms  the  second  part  of  the  Corpus  juris 
canonici.  In  1298  Boniface  VIII.  promulgated  a  supple- 
mentary book  known  as  the  Sextus  of  Boniface.  This 
with  a  new  collection  promulgated  under  the  authority  of 
Clement  V.  in  1313,  called  the  Clementinae,  and  the 
Extravagantes  of  his  successor  John  XXII.  and  certain 
other  popes,  constitute  the  last  portions  of  the  Corpus 
juris  canonici} 

According  to  the  law  of  the  Empire  the  emperor's 
authority  extended  over  the  Church,  its  doctrine,  its  dis- 
cipline, and  its  property.  Such  authority  was  exercised 
by  the  emperors  from  Constantine  to  Justinian.  But  the 
Church  had  always  stood  upon  the  principle  that  it  was 
better  to  obey  God  rather  than  man.  This  had  been 
maintained  against  the  power  of  the  pagan  Empire,  and 
was  not  to  be  sunned  out  of  existence  by  imperial  favour. 
It  was  still  better  to  obey  God  rather  than  the  emperor. 
The  Church  still  should  say  who  were  its  members  and 
entitled  to  participate  in  the  salvation  which  it  mediated. 
Ecclesiastical  authorities  could  excommunicate  ;  that  was 
their  engine  of  coercion.  These  principles  were  incarnate 
in  Ambrose,  Bishop  of  Milan,  withstanding  and  prohibiting 
Theodosius  from  Christian  fellowship  until  he  had  done 
penance  for  the  massacre  at  Thessalonica.  Of  necessity 
they  inhered  in  the  Church  ;  they  were  of  the  essence  of 
its  strength  to  fulfil  its  purpose ;  they  stood  for  the  duly 
constituted  power  of  Christian  resolution  to  uphold  and 
advance  the  peremptory  truth  of  Christ. 

1  On  the  above  matters  see  (with  the  authorities  and  bibliographies  therein 
given)  Maasen,  Geschichte  der  Quellen,  etc.,  der  canonischcn  Rechts  (Bd.  i.,  to  the 
middle  of  the  ninth  century) ;  Tardif,  Sources  du  droit  canonique  (Paris,  1887) ; 
Zorn,  Lehrbuch  des  Kirchenrechts  (Stuttgart,  1888)  ;  Gerlach,  Lehrbuch  des 
catholischen  Kirchenrechts  (5th  edition,  Paderborn,  1890).  Hinschius,  Decretales 
pseudo-Isidorianae  (Leipzig,  1863)  ;  Corpus  juris  canonici,  ed.  by  Friedberg 
(Leipzig,  1879-1881). 


CHAP,  xxxni      ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  273 

So  such  principles  persisted  through  the  time  of  the 
hostile  and  then  the  favouring  Roman  Empire.  And  when 
the  Empire  in  fact  crumbled  and  fell,  what  de  facto  and  de 
jure  authority  was  best  fitted  to  take  the  place  of  the  imperial 
supremacy?  The  Empire  represented  a  universal  secular 
dominion ;  the  Church  was  also  universal,  and  with  a 
universality  now  reaching  out  beyond  the  Empire's  shrinking 
boundaries.  In  the  midst  of  political  fragments  otherwise 
disjoined,  the  Church  endured  as  the  universal  unity.  The 
power  of  each  Teutonic  king  was  great  in  fact  and  law  within 
his  realm.  Yet  he  was  but  a  local  potency,  while  the  Church 
existed  through  his  and  other  realms.  And  when  the  power 
of  one  Teutonic  line  (the  Carolingian)  reached  something 
like  universal  sway,  the  Church  was  also  there  within  and 
without.  It  held  the  learning  of  the  time,  and  the  culture 
which  large-minded  seculars  respected  ;  and  quite  as  much 
as  the  empire  of  Charlemagne,  it  held  the  prestige  of  Rome. 
Witness  the  attitude  of  Charles  Martel  and  Pippin  toward 
Boniface  the  great  apostle,  and  the  attitude  of  Boniface 
toward  the  Gregories  whose  legate  he  proclaimed  himself, 
and  upon  whose  central  authority  he  based  his  claims  to  be 
obeyed.  Through  the  reforms  of  the  Prankish  Church, 
carried  out  by  him  with  the  support  of  Charles  Martel  and 
Pippin,  the  ecclesiastical  supremacy  of  Rome  was  established. 
Charlemagne,  indeed,  from  the  nature  and  necessities  of  his 
own  transcendent  power,  possessed  in  fact  the  ecclesiastical 
authority  of  the  Roman  emperors,  whom  men  deemed  his 
predecessors.  But  after  him  the  secular  power  fell  again 
into  fragments  scarcely  locally  efficient,  while  the  Church's 
universality  of  authority  endured. 

In  the  unstable  fragmentation  of  secular  rule  in  the  ninth 
century,  the  Isidorean  Decretals  presented  the  truth  of  the 
situation  as  it  was  to  be,  although  not  as  it  had  been  in  the 
times  of  the  Church  dignitaries  whose  names  were  forged  for 
that  collection.  And  thereafter,  as  the  Church  recovered 
from  its  tenth -century  disintegration,  it  advanced  to  the 
pragmatic  demonstration  of  the  validity  of  those  false 
Decretals,  on  through  the  tempests  of  the  age  of  Hildebrand 
to  the  final  triumph  of  Innocent  III.  at  the  opening  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  Evidently  the  canon  law,  whatever 

VOL.  II  T 


274  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

might  be  its  immediate  or  remote  source,  drew  its  authority 
from  the  sanction  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  which 
enunciated  it  and  made  it  into  a  body  corresponding  to  the 
Church's  functions.  It  was  what  the  Church  promulgated 
as  the  law  of  the  ecclesiastical  hierarchy  and  the  kingdom 
of  God  on  earth.  It  should  be  the  temporal  and  legal 
counterpart  of  the  Church's  spiritual  purposes.  Its  general 
tendency  and  purpose  was  the  promotion  of  the  Church's 
saving  aim,  which  regarded  all  things  in  the  light  of  their 
relationship  to  life  eternal.  Therefore  the  Church's  law 
could  not  but  define  and  consider  all  worldly  interests,  all 
personal  and  property  rights  and  secular  authority,  with 
constant  regard  to  men's  need  of  salvation.  The  advance- 
ment of  that  must  be  the  final  appellate  standard  of  legal 
right. 

Such  was  the  event.  The  entire  canon  law  might  be 
lodged  within  those  propositions  which  Hildebrand  enunciated 
and  Innocent  III.  realized.  For  the  salvation  of  souls,  all 
authority  on  earth  had  been  entrusted  by  Christ  to  Peter 
and  his  successors.  Theirs  was  the  spiritual  sword  ;  secular 
power,  the  sword  material,  was  to  be  exercised  under  the 
pope's  mandate  and  permission.  No  king  or  emperor,  no 
layman  whatsoever,  was  exempt  from  the  supreme  authority 
of  the  pope,  who  also  was  the  absolute  head  of  the  Church, 
which  had  become  a  monarchy.  "  The  Lord  entrusted  to 
Peter  not  only  the  universal  Church,  but  the  government  of 
the  whole  world,"  writes  Innocent  III.,  whose  pontificate 
almost  made  this  principle  a  fact.  In  private  matters  no 
member  of  the  clergy  could  be  brought  before  a  secular 
court ;  and  the  jurisdiction  of  the  ecclesiastical  courts  over 
the  laity  threatened  to  reduce  the  secular  jurisdiction  to 
narrow  functions.1  The  property  of  the  Church  might  not 
be  taxed  or  levied  on  by  any  temporal  ruler  or  government ; 
nor  could  the  Church's  functions  and  authority  be  controlled 
or  limited  by  any  secular  decree.  Universally  throughout 
every  kingdom  the  Church  was  a  sovereignty,  not  only  in 
matters  spiritual,  but  with  respect  to  all  the  personal  and 

1  Jurisdiction  of  the  ecclesiastical  courts  embraced  marriage  and  divorce, 
wills  and  inheritance,  and,  by  virtue  of  their  surveillance  of  usury  and  vows  and 
oaths,  practically  the  whole  relationship  between  debtor  and  creditor. 


CHAP,  xxxin      ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  275 

material  relationships  that  might  be  connected  in  any  way 
with  the  welfare  of  souls.1 


The  exposition  of  the  Corpus  juris  civilis  in  the  school 
of  the  glossators  was  of  great  moment  in  the  evolution  of 
mediaeval  political  theory,  which  in  its  turn  yields  one  more 
example  of  the  mediaeval  application  of  thoughts  derived 
from  antique  and  patristic  sources.  Political  thinking  in 
the  Middle  Ages  sought  its  surest  foundation  in  theology ; 
then  it  built  itself  up  with  concepts  drawn  from  the  philosophy 
and  social  theory  of  the  antique  world  ;  and  lastly  it  laid 
hold  on  jurisprudence,  using  the  substance  and  reasoning  of 
the  Roman  and  the  Canon  law. 

Mediaeval  ideas  upon  government  and  the  relations 
between  the  individual  and  his  earthly  sovereign,  started 
from  theological  premises,  of  patristic  origin  :  e.  g.  that  the 
universe  and  man  were  made  by  God,  a  miraculous  creation, 
springing  from  no  other  cause,  and  subject  to  no  other 
fundamental  law,  than  God's  unsearchable  will,  which  never 
ceases  to  direct  the  whole  creation  to  the  Creator's  ends. 
A  further  premise  was  the  Scriptural  revelation  of  God's 
purpose  as  to  man,  with  all  the  contents  of  that  revelation 
touching  the  overweening  importance  of  man's  deathless 
soul. 

Unity — the  unity  of  the  creation — springs  from  these 
premises,  or  is  one  of  them.  The  principle  of  this  unity 
is  God's  will.  Within  the  universal  whole,  mankind  also 
constitutes  a  unit,  a  community,  specially  ordained  and 
ordered.  The  Middle  Ages,  following  the  example  of  the 
patristic  time,  were  delivered  over  to  allegory,  and  to  an 
unbridled  recognition  of  the  deductions  of  allegorical 
reasoning.  Mankind  was  a  community.  Mankind  was  also 
an  organism,  the  mystical  body  whereof  the  head  was  Christ 
Here  was  an  allegory  potent  for  foolishness  or  wisdom.  It 

1  Volume  ii.  of  R.  W.  and  A.  J.  Carlyle's  History  of  Mediaeval  Political 
Theory  in  the  West  (1909)  maintains  that  the  statements  of  papal  pretensions 
which  were  incorporated  in  the  recognized  collections  of  Decretals  were  less 
extreme  than  those  emanating  from  the  papacy  under  stress  of  controversy. 


276  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

was  used  to  symbolize  the  mystery  of  the  oneness  of  all 
mankind  in  God,  and  the  organic  co-ordination  of  all  sorts 
and  conditions  of  men  with  one  another  in  the  divine 
commonwealth  on  earth  ;  it  was  also  drawn  out  into  every 
detail  of  banal  anthropomorphic  comparison.  From  John 
of  Salisbury  to  Nicholas  Cusanus,  Occam  and  Dante,  no 
point  of  fancied  analogy  between  the  parts  and  members  of 
the  body  and  the  various  functions  of  Church  and  State  was 
left  unexploited.1 

Mankind  then  is  one  community ;  also  an  organism. 
But  within  the  human  organism  abides  the  duality  of  soul 
and  body ;  and  the  Community  of  Mankind  on  earth  is 
constituted  of  two  orders,  the  spiritual  and  temporal,  Church 
and  State.2  There  must  be  either  co-ordination  between  State 
and  Church,  body  and  soul,  or  subordination  of  the  temporal 
and  material  to  the  eternal  and  spiritual.  To  evoke  an  adjust- 
ment of  what  was  felt  to  be  an  actually  universal  opposition, 
was  the  chief  problem  of  mediaeval  polity,  and  forms  the 
warp  and  woof  of  conflicting  theories.  The  Church  asserted 
a  full  spiritual  supremacy  even  in  things  temporal,  and, 
to  support  the  claim,  brought  sound  arguments  as  well  as 
foolish  allegory — allegory  pretending  to  be  horror-stricken 
at  the  vision  of  an  animal  with  two  heads,  a  bicephalic 
monstrosity.  But  does  not  the  Church  comprise  all  man- 
kind ?  Did  not  God  found  it  ?  Is  not  Christ  its  head, 
and  under  Him  his  vicegerent  Peter  and  all  the  popes  ? 
Then  shall  not  the  pope  who  commands  the  greater,  which 
is  the  spiritual,  much  more  command  the  less,  the  temporal  ? 
And  all  the  argumentation  of  the  two  swords,  delivered  to 
Peter,  comes  into  play.  That  there  are  two  swords  is  but 
a  propriety  of  administration.  Secular  rulers  wield  the 
secular  sword  at  the  pope's  command.  They  are  instruments 

1  See   Gierke,  Political   Theories  of  the  Middle   Ages,  trans,    by  Maitland 
(Cambridge,   1900),  p.  22  sqq.  and  notes.      I  would  express  my  indebtedness  to 
this  book  for  these  pages  on  mediaeval  political  theories.     Dunning's  History  of 
Political  Theories  is  a  convenient  outline  ;  Carlyle's  History  of  Mediaeval  Political 
Theory  gives  the  sources  carefully. 

2  Occasionally  studium  (knowledge,  study,  or  science)  is  introduced  as  a  third 
part  or  element  of  the  human  community  or  of  human  life.     Thus  in  the  famous 
statement  of  Jordanes  of  Osnabriick — the  Romans  received  the  Sacerdotium,  the 
Germans    the    Imperium,    the    French    the    Studium.       See    Gierke,    Political 
Theories,  p.  104,  note  8. 


CHAP,  xxxin      ROMAN   AND  CANON  LAW  277 

of  the  Church.  Fundamentally  the  State  is  an  ecclesiastical 
institution,  and  the  bounds  of  secular  law  are  set  by  the 
law  spiritual :  the  canon  law  overrides  the  laws  of  every 
State.  True,  in  this  division,  the  State  also  is  ordained  of 
God,  but  only  as  subordinate.  And  divinely  ordained 
though  it  be,  the  origin  of  the  State  lies  in  sin  ;  for  sin 
alone  made  government  and  law  needful  for  man.1 

On  the  other  hand,  the  partisans  of  the  State  upheld 
co-ordination  as  the  true  principle.2  The  two  swords 
represent  distinct  powers,  Sacerdotium  and  Imperium.  The 
latter  as  well  as  the  former  is  from  God  ;  and  the  two  are 
co-ordinates,  although  of  course  the  Church  which  wields 
the  spiritual  sword  is  the  higher.  This  theory  creates  no 
bicephalic  monster.  God  is  the  universal  head.  And  even 
as  man  is  body  as  well  as  soul,  the  human  community  is 
State  as  well  as  Church ;  and  the  State  needs  the  emperor 
for  its  head,  as  the  Church  has  the  pope.  The  Roman 
Dominion,  imperium  mundi,  was  legitimate,  and  by  divine 
appointment  has  passed  over  to  the  Roman -German 
emperor.  Other  views  sustaining  the  scheme  of  co-ordina- 
tion upheld  a  plurality  of  states,  rather  than  one  universal 
Imperium.  Of  course  these  opposing  views  of  subordination 
or  co-ordination  of  State  and  Church  took  on  every  shade 
of  diversity. 

As  to  both  Church  and  State,  mediaeval  political  theory 
was  predominantly  monarchical.  Ideally  this  flowed  from 
the  thought  of  God  as  the  true  monarch  of  the  universe. 
Practically  it  comported  with  mediaeval  social  conditions. 
Under  Innocent  III.,  if  not  under  Gregory  VII.,  the  Church 
had  become  a  monarchy  well-nigh  absolute.3  The  pope's 
power  continued  plenary  until  the  great  schism  and  the 
age  of  councils  evoked  by  it.  For  the  secular  state,  the 
common  voice  likewise  favoured  monarchy.  The  unity  of 
the  social  organism  is  best  effected  by  the  singleness  of  its 
head.  Thomas  Aquinas  authoritatively  reasons  thus,  and 

1  Cf.  Gierke,  o.c.  p.  109,  note  16.     But  compare  Carlyle,  o.c.  vol.  ii.   part 
ii.  chaps,  vii.-xi. 

2  Even  toward  the  close  of  the  Middle  Ages  Marsilius  of  Padua  was  almost 
alone  in  positing  the  absolute  supremacy  of  the  State,  says  Gierke. 

3  See  Gierke,  o.c.  p.  144,  note  131,  and  compare  notes  132,  133,  and  183 
for  attacks  upon  the  plenary  power  of  the  pope. 


278  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

Dante  maintains  that  as  the  unifying  principle  is  Will,  the 
will  of  one  man  is  the  best  means  to  realize  it.1  But 
monarchy  is  no  absolute  right  existing  for  the  ruler's 
benefit,  rather  it  is  an  office  to  be  righteously  exercised 
for  the  good  of  the  community.  The  monarch's  power  is 
limited,  and  if  his  command  outrages  law  or  right,  it  is  a 
nullity ;  his  subjects  need  not  obey,  and  the  principle 
applies,  that  it  is  better  to  obey  God  than  man.  Even 
when,  as  in  the  days  of  the  Hohenstaufen,  the  civil  jurists 
claimed  for  the  emperor  the  plenitudo  potestatis  of  a  Roman 
Caesar,  the  opposite  doctrine  held  strong,  which  gave  him 
only  a  limited  power,  in  its  nature  conditioned  on  its 
rightful  exercise. 

Moreover,  rights  of  the  community  were  not  un- 
recognized, and  indeed  were  supported  by  elaborate  theories 
as  the  Middle  Ages  advanced  to  their  climacteric.  The 
thought  of  a  contract  between  ruler  and  people  frequently 
appears,  and  reference  to  the  contract  made  at  Hebron 
between  David  and  the  people  of  Israel  (2  Sam.  v.  3). 
The  civil  jurist  also  looked  back  to  the  principle  of  the 
jus  gentium  giving  to  every  free  people  the  right  to  choose 
a  ruler  ;  also  to  that  famous  text  of  the  Digest,  where, 
through  the  lex  regia,  the  people  were  said  to  have  conferred 
their  powers  upon  the  princeps.2  With  such  thoughts  of 
the  people's  rights  came  theories  of  representation  and  of 
the  monarch  as  the  people's  representative  ;  and  Roman 
corporation  law  supplied  the  rules  for  mediaeval  representa- 
tive assemblies,  lay  and  clerical.3 

The  old  Germanic  state  was  a  conglomerate  of  positive 
law  and  specific  custom,  having  no  existence  beyond  the 
laws,  which  were  its  formative  constituents.  Such  a  con- 
ception did  not  satisfy  mediaeval  publicists,  imbued  with 
antique  views  of  the  State's  further  aims  and  potency.  Nor 
were  all  men  satisfied  with  the  State's  divinely  ordered 
origin  in  human  sinfulness.  An  ultimate  ground  for  its 
existence  was  sought,  commensurate  with  its  broadest  aims. 
Such  was  found,  not  in  positive,  but  in  natural  law — again 

1  Gierke,  o.c.  pp.  31-32,  and  p.  139,  notes  107  and  108. 

*  Dig.  i.  4,  I  ;  Gierke,  o.c.  p.  39  and  pp.  146,  147. 

3  Gierke,  o.c.  p.  64. 


CHAP,  xxxin     ROMAN  AND  CANON  LAW  279 

an  antique  conception.  That  a  veritable  natural  law 
existed,  all  men  agreed  ;  also  that  its  source  lay  back  of 
human  conventions,  somehow  in  the  nature  of  God.  All 
admitted  its  absolute  supremacy,  binding  alike  upon  popes 
and  secular  monarchs,  and  rendering  void  all  acts  and 
positive  laws  contravening  it.  It  must  be  the  State's 
ultimate  constituent  ground. 

God  was  the  source  of  natural  law.  Some  argued  that 
it  proceeded  from  His  will,  as  a  command,  others  that  its 
source  was  eternal  Reason  announcing  her  necessary  and 
unalterable  dictates  ;  again  its  source  was  held  to  lie  more 
definitely  in  the  Reason  that  was  identical  with  God  the 
summa  ratio  in  Deo  existens,  as  Aquinas  puts  it  From 
that  springs  the  Lex  naturalis,  ordained  to  rest  on  the 
participation  of  man,  as  a  rational  creature,  in  the  moral 
order  which  he  perceives  by  the  light  of  natural  reason. 
This  lex  naturalis  (or  jus  naturale)  is  a  true  promulgated 
law,  since  God  implants  it  for  recognition  in  the  minds  of 
men.1  Absolute  unconditional  supremacy  was  ascribed  to 
it,  and  also  to  the  jus  divinum,  which  God  revealed  super- 
naturally  for  a  supramundane  end.  A  cognate  supremacy 
was  ascribed  to  the  jus  commune  gentium,  which  was 
composed  of  rules  of  the  jus  naturale  adapted  to  the 
conditions  of  fallen  human  nature. 

Such  law  was  above  the  State,  to  which,  on  the  other 
hand,  positive  law  was  subject.  Whenever  the  ruler  was 
conceived  as  sovereign  or  absolute,  he  likewise  was  deemed 
above  positive  law,  but  bound  by  these  higher  laws.  They 
were  the  source  and  sanction  of  the  innate  and  indestructible 
rights  of  the  individual,  to  property  and  liberty  and  life 
as  they  were  formulated  at  a  later  period.  It  is  evident 
how  the  recognition  of  such  rights  fell  in  with  the  Christian 
revelation  of  the  absolute  value  of  every  individual  in  and 
for  himself  and  his  immortal  life.  On  the  other  hand, 
certain  rights  of  the  State,  or  the  community,  were  also 
indestructible  and  inalienable  by  virtue  of  the  nature  of 
their  source  in  natural  law.2 

This    abstract    of   political  theory  has    been   stated   in 

1  Gierke,  o.c.  p.  172,  note  256.     Cf.  ante,  p.  268. 
2  See  Gierke,  o.c.  pp.  73-86,  and  corresponding  notes. 


280  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi 

terms  generalized  to  vagueness,  and  with  no  attempt  to 
follow  the  details  or  trace  the  historical  development.  The 
purpose  has  been  to  give  the  general  flavour  of  mediaeval 
thought  concerning  Church  and  State,  and  the  Individual 
as  a  member  of  them  both.  One  observes  how  the  patristic 
and  mediaeval  Christian  thought  mingles  with  the  antique ; 
and  one  may  assume  the  intellectual  acumen  applied  by 
legist,  canonist,  and  scholastic  theologian  to  the  discussion 
and  formulation  of  these  high  arguments.  The  mediaeval 
genius  for  abstractions  is  evident,  and  the  mediaeval  faculty 
of  linking  them  to  the  affairs  of  life ;  clear  also  is  the 
baneful  effect  of  mediaeval  allegory.  Even  as  men  now- 
a-days  are  disposed  to  rest  in  the  apparent  reality  of 
the  tangible  phenomenon,  so  the  mediaeval  man  just  as 
commonly  sought  for  his  reality  in  what  the  phenomenon 
might  be  conceived  to  symbolize.  Therefore  in  the  higher 
political  controversies,  even  as  in  other  interests  of  the 
human  spirit,  argument  through  allegory  was  accepted  as 
legitimate,  if  not  convincing ;  and  a  proper  sequence  of 
thought  was  deemed  to  lie  from  one  symbolical  meaning 
to  another,  with  even  a  deeper  validity  than  from  one 
palpable  fact  to  that  which  followed  from  it 


BOOK   VII 

ULTIMATE    INTELLECTUAL   INTERESTS 
OF     THE     TWELFTH     AND 
THIRTEENTH    CENTURIES 


281 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

SCHOLASTICISM  :    SPIRIT,   SCOPE,   AND   METHOD 

THE  religious  philosophy  or  theology  of  the  Middle  Ages  is 
commonly  called  scholasticism,  and  its  exponents  are  called 
the  scholastics.  The  name  applies  most  properly  to  the 
respectable  academic  thinkers.  These,  in  the  early  Middle 
Ages,  usually  were  monks  living  in  monasteries,  like  St. 
Anselm,  for  instance,  who  was  Abbot  of  Bee  in  Normandy 
before,  to  his  sorrow,  he  was  made  Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 
In  the  thirteenth  century,  however,  while  these  respected 
thinkers  still  were  monks,  or  rather  mendicant  friars,  they 
were  also  university  professors.  Albertus  Magnus  and  St 
Thomas  Aquinas,  the  great  Dominicans,  and  their  friend  St. 
Bonaventura,  who  became  the  head  of  the  Franciscan  Order, 
all  lectured  at  the  University  of  Paris,  the  chief  university 
of  the  Middle  Ages  in  the  domain  of  philosophy  and 
theology.  Moreover,  as  the  scholastics  were  respectable 
and  academic,  so  they  were  usually  orthodox  Churchmen, 
good  Roman  Catholics.  The  conduct  or  opinions  of  some 
of  them,  Abaelard  for  example,  became  suspect  to  the 
Church  authorities  ;  yet  Abaelard,  although  his  book  had 
been  condemned,  kept  within  the  Church's  pale,  and  died  a 
monk  of  Cluny.  There  were  plenty  of  obdurate  heretics  in 
the  Middle  Ages  ;  but  their  bizarre  ideas,  sometimes  coming 
down  from  Manichaean  sources,  were  scarcely  germane  to  the 
central  lines  of  mediaeval  thought.1 

1  Little  will  be  said  in  these  pages  of  palpable  crass  heretics  like  the  Cathari, 
for  example.  The  philosophic  ideas  of  such  seem  gathered  from  the  flotsam  and 
jetsam  of  the  later  antique  world  ;  their  stock  was  not  of  the  best,  and  bore  little 
interesting  fruit  for  later  times.  Such  mediaeval  heresies  present  no  continuous 
evolution  like  that  of  the  proper  scholasticism.  Progress  in  philosophy  and 

283 


284  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vu 

One  hears  of  scholastic  philosophy  and  scholastic 
theology  ;  and  assuredly  these  mediaeval  theologian-philo- 
sophers endeavoured  to  distinguish  between  the  one  and 
the  other  phase  of  the  matters  which  occupied  their  minds. 
The  distinction  was  intelligibly  drawn  and,  in  many  treatises, 
doubtless  affected  the  choice  and  ordering  of  topics. 
Whether  it  was  consistently  observed  in  the  handling  of 
those  topics,  is  another  question,  which  perhaps  should  be 
answered  in  the  negative.  At  all  events,  to  attempt  to 
observe  this  distinction  in  considering  the  ultimate  intel- 
lectual interests  of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries,  might 
sap  the  matter  of  the  human  interest  attaching  to  it,  to 
wit,  that  interest  and  validity  possessed  by  all  serious  effort 
to  know — and  to  be  saved.  These  were  the  motives  of  the 
scholastics,  whether  they  used  their  reason,  or  clung  to 
revelation,  or  did  both,  as  they  always  did. 

Mediaeval  methods  of  thinking  and  topics  of  thought 
are  no  longer  in  vogue.  For  the  time,  men  have  turned 
from  the  discussion  of  universals  and  the  common  unity  or 
separate  individuality  of  mind,  and  are  as  little  concerned 
with  transubstantiation  as  with  the  old  dispute  over 
investitures.  But  the  scholastics  were  men  and  so  are  we. 


theology  came  through  academic  personages,  who  at  all  events  laid  claim  to 
orthodoxy.  All  lines  of  advance  leading  on  to  later  phases  of  philosophic, 
scientific,  and  religious  thought,  lay  within  the  labours  of  such,  some  of  whom, 
however,  were  suspected  or  even  condemned  by  the  Church,  like  Eriugena, 
Abaelard,  or  Roger  Bacon.  But  these  men  did  not  stand  apart  from  orthodox 
academic  circles,  and  were  never  cast  out  by  the  Church.  Thought  and  learning 
in  the  Middle  Ages  were  domiciled  in  monastic,  episcopal,  or  university  circles  ; 
and  these  were  at  least  conventionally  orthodox. 

It  has  been  said,  to  be  sure,  that  the  heresy  of  one  generation  becomes  the 
orthodoxy  of  another ;  but  this  is  true  only  of  tendencies  like  those  of  Abaelard, 
which  represent  the  gradual  expansion  and  clearing  up  of  scholastic  processes. 
For  the  time  they  may  be  condemned,  perhaps  because  of  the  vain  and  contentious 
character  of  the  suspected  thinker ;  but  in  the  end  they  are  recognized  as 
admissible. 

The  Averroists  constitute  an  apparent  exception.  Yet  they  were  a  philosophic 
and  academic  sect,  whose  heresy  consisted  in  an  implicit  following  of  Aristotle 
as  interpreted  by  Averroes.  Moreover,  they  sought  to  save  their  orthodoxy 
by  their  doctrine  of  the  two  kinds  of  truth,  philosophic  and  theological  or 
dogmatic.  It  is  not  clear  that  much  fruitful  thought  came  from  their  school. 
The  positions  of  Siger  de  Brabant,  a  prominent  Averroist  and  contemporary  of 
Aquinas,  are  referred  to  post,  Chapter  XXXVII.  The  best  account  of  Averroism 
is  Mandonnet's  Siger  de  Brabant  et  Paverroisme  latin  au  XIIIe  siecle  (a  second 
edition,  Louvain,  is  in  preparation).  See  also  De  Wulf,  Hist,  of  Medieval 
Philosophy  (3rd.  ed.,  Longmans,  1909)  p.  379  sqq.  with  authorities  cited. 


CHAP,  xxxiv   METHODS  OF  SCHOLASTICISM          285 

Our  humanity  is  one  with  theirs.  Men  are  still  under  the 
necessity  of  reflecting  upon  their  own  existence  and  the 
world  without,  and  still  feel  the  need  to  reach  conclusions 
and  the  impulse  to  formulate  consistently  what  seem  to 
them  vital  propositions.  Herein  we  are  blood  kin  to  Gerbert 
and  Anselm,  to  Abaelard  and  Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  to  Thomas 
Aquinas  as  well  as  Roger  Bacon  :  and  our  highest  nature  is 
one  with  theirs  in  the  intellectual  fellowship  of  human 
endeavour  to  think  out  and  present  that  which  shall  appease 
the  mind.  Because  of  this  kinship  with  the  scholastics,  and 
the  sympathy  which  we  feel  for  the  struggle  which  is  the 
same  in  us  and  them,  their  intellectual  endeavours,  their 
achieved  conclusions,  although  now  appearing  as  but  apt  or 
necessitated  phrases,  may  have  for  us  the  immortal  interest 
of  the  eternal  human. 

Let  us  then  approach  mediaeval  thought  as  man  meets 
man,  and  seek  in  it  for  what  may  still  be  valid,  or  at  least 
real  to  us,  because  agreeing  with  what  we  find  within  our- 
selves. Being  men  as  well  as  scholars,  we  would  win  from 
its  parchment-covered  tomes  those  elements  which  if  they 
do  not  represent  everlasting  verities,  are  at  least  symbols  of 
the  permanent  necessities  of  the  human  mind.  Whatever 
else  there  is  in  mediaeval  thought,  as  touching  us  less 
nearly,  may  be  considered  by  way  of  historical  setting  and 
explanation. 

In  different  men  the  impulse  to  know  bears  different 
relationships  to  the  rest  of  life.  It  sometimes  seems  self- 
impelled,  and  again  palpably  inspired  by  a  motive  beyond 
itself.  In  some  form,  however,  it  winds  itself  into  every 
action  of  our  mental  faculties,  and  no  province  of  life  appears 
untouched  by  this  craving  of  the  mind.  Nevertheless  to 
know  is  not  the  whole  matter ;  for  with  knowledge  comes 
appetition  or  aversion,  admiration  or  contempt,  love  or 
abhorrence ;  and  other  impulses — emotional,  desiderative, 
loving — impel  the  human  creature  to  realize  its  nature  in 
states  of  heightened  consciousness  that  are  not  palpable 
modes  of  knowing,  though  they  may  be  replete  with  all  the 
knowledge  that  the  man  has  gained. 

These  ultimate  cravings  which  we  recognize  in  ourselves, 
inspired  mediaeval  thought.  Its  course,  its  progress,  its 


286  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

various  phases,  its  contents  and  completed  systems,  all 
represent  the  operation  of  human  faculty  pressing  to  expres- 
sion and  realization  under  the  accidental  or  "  historical " 
conditions  of  the  mediaeval  period.  We  may  be  sure  that 
many  kinds  of  human  craving  and  corresponding  faculty 
realized  themselves  in  mediaeval  philosophy,  theology,  piety 
and  mysticism — the  last  a  word  used  provisionally,  until  we 
succeed  in  resolving  it  into  terms  of  clearer  significance. 
And  we  also  note  that  in  these  provinces,  realization  is 
expression.  Every  faculty,  every  energy,  in  man  seeks  to 
function,  to  realize  its  power  in  act.  The  sheer  body — if 
there  be  sheer  body — acts  bodily,  operates,  and  so  makes 
actual  its  powers.  But  those  human  energies  which  are 
informed  with  mind,  realize  themselves  in  ardent  or  rational 
thought,  or  in  uttered  words,  or  in  products  of  the  artfully 
devising  hand.  All  this  clearly  is  expression,  and  corresponds, 
if  it  is  not  one  and  the  same,  with  the  passing  of  energy 
from  potency  to  the  actuality  which  is  its  end  and  consum- 
mation. Thus  love,  seeking  its  end,  thereby  seeks  expression, 
through  which  it  is  enhanced,  and  in  which  it  is  realized. 
Likewise,  impelled  by  the  desire  to  know,  the  faculties  of 
cognition  and  reason  realize  themselves  in  expression  ;  and 
in  expression  each  part  of  rational  knowledge  is  clarified, 
completed,  rendered  accordant  with  the  data  of  observation 
and  the  laws  or  necessities  of  the  mind. 

Human  faculties  form  a  correlated  whole ;  and  this 
composite  human  nature  seeks  to  act,  to  function.  Thus  the 
whole  man  strives  to  realize  the  fullest  actuality  of  his  being, 
and  satisfy  or  express  the  whole  of  him,  and  not  alone  his 
reason,  nor  yet  his  emotions,  or  his  appetites.  This  utter- 
most realization  of  human  being — man's  summum  bonum 
or  summa  necessitas — cannot  unite  the  incompatible  within 
its  synthesis.  It  must  be  kept  a  consistent  ideal,  a  possible 
whole.  Here  the  demiurge  is  the  discriminating  and  con- 
structive intelligence,  which  builds  together  the  permanent 
and  valuable  elements  of  being,  and  excludes  whatever 
cannot  coexist  in  concord  with  them.  Yet  the  intelligence 
does  not  always  set  its  own  rational  activities  as  man's 
furthest  goal  of  realization.  It  may  place  love  above 
reason.  And,  of  course,  its  discriminating  judgment  will 


CHAP,  xxxiv  METHODS  OF  SCHOLASTICISM         287 

be  affected  by  current  knowledge  and  by  dominant  beliefs 
as  to  man  and  his  destiny,  the  universe  and  God. 

Manifestly  whatever  the  thoughtful  idealizing  man  in 
any  period  (and  our  attention  may  at  once  focus  itself  upon 
the  Middle  Ages)  adjudges  to  belong  to  the  final  realization 
of  his  nature,  will  become  an  object  of  intellectual  interest 
for  him  ;  and  he  will  deem  it  a  proper  subject  for  study  and 
meditation.  The  rational,  spiritual,  or  even  physical  ele- 
ments, which  may  enter  and  compose  this,  his  summum 
bonum,  represent  those  intellectual  interests  which  may  be 
termed  ultimate,  for  the  very  reason,  that  they  relate  to 
what  the  thinker  deems  his  beatitude.  These  ultimate 
intellectual  interests  possess  an  absolute  sanction,  for  the 
lack  of  which  whatever  lies  outside  of  them  tends  to  adjudge 
itself  vain. 

The  philosophy,  theology,  and  the  profoundly  felt  and 
reasoned  piety,  of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  made 
up  that  period's  ultimate  intellectual  interests.  We  are  not 
concerned  with  other  matters  occupying  its  attention,  save 
as  they  bore  on  man's  supreme  beatitude,  which  was  held  to 
consist  in  his  everlasting  salvation  and  all  that  might  con- 
stitute his  bliss  in  that  unending  state.  The  elements  of 
this  blessedness  were  not  deemed  to  lie  altogether  in 
rational  cognition  and  its  processes  ;  for  the  conception  of 
the  soul's  beatitude  was  catholic  ;  and  while  with  some  men 
the  intellectual  elements  were  dominant,  with  others  salva- 
tion's summit  was  attained  along  the  paths  of  spiritual 
emotion. 

Obviously,  from  the  side  of  the  emotions,  there  could 
come  no  large  and  lasting  happiness,  unless  emotional  desire 
and  devotion  were  directed  to  that  which  might  also  satisfy 
the  mind,  or  at  all  events,  would  not  conflict  with  its  judg- 
ment. Hence  the  emotional  side  of  the  ultimate  mediaeval 
ideal  was  pietistic ;  because  the  mediaeval  dogmatic  faith 
regarded  the  emotional  impulses  between  one  human  being 
and  another  as  distracting,  if  not  wicked.  Such  mortal 
impulses  were  so  very  difficult  to  harmonize  with  the  eternal 
beatitude  which  consisted  in  the  cognition  and  love  of  God. 
This  principle  was  proclaimed  by  monks  and  theologians,  or 
philosophers  ;  it  was  even  recognized  (although  not  followed) 


288  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

in  the  literature  which  glorified  the  love  of  man  and  woman, 
but  in  which  the  lover-knight  so  often  ends  a  hermit,  and 
the  convent  at  last  receives  his  sinful  mistress.  On  the 
other  hand,  reason,  with  its  practical  and  speculative  know- 
ledge, is  sterile  when  unmixed  with  piety  and  love.  This  is 
the  sum  of  Bonaventura's  fervid  arguments,  and  is  as  clearly, 
if  more  quietly,  recognized  by  Aquinas,  with  whom  fides 
without  caritas  is  informis,  formless,  very  far  indeed  from  its 
true  actuality  or  realization. 

Thus,  for  the  full  realization  of  man's  highest  good  in 
everlasting  salvation,  the  two  complementary  phases  of  the 
human  spirit  had  to  act  and  function  in  concord.  Together 
they  must  realize  themselves  in  such  catholic  expression  as 
should  exclude  only  the  froward  or  evil  elements,  non- 
elements  rather,  of  man's  nature.  Both  represent  ultimate 
mediaeval  interests  and  desires  ;  and  perhaps  deep  down  and 
very  intimately,  even  inscrutably,  they  may  be  one,  even  as 
they  clearly  are  complementary  phases  of  the  human  soul. 
Yet  with  certain  natures  who  perhaps  fail  to  hold  the  balance 
between  them,  the  two  phases  seem  to  draw  apart,  or,  at 
least,  to  evince  themselves  in  distinct  expression,  and  indeed 
in  all  men  they  are  usually  distinguishable. 

Generally  speaking,  the  conception  of  man's  divinely 
mediated  salvation,  and  of  the  elements  of  human  being 
which  might  be  carried  on,  and  realized  in  a  state  of  ever- 
lasting beatitude,  prescribed  the  range  of  ultimate  intellectual 
interests  for  the  Middle  Ages.  The  same  had  been 
despotically  true  of  the  patristic  period.  Augustine  would 
know  God  and  the  soul ;  Ambrose  expressed  equally  em- 
phatic views  upon  the  vanity  of  all  knowledge  that  did  not 
contribute  to  an  understanding  of  the  Christian  Faith.  This 
view  was  held  with  temperamental  and  barbarizing  narrow- 
ness by  Gregory  the  Great.  It  was  admitted,  as  of  course, 
throughout  the  Carolingian  period,  although  humanistically- 
minded  men  played  with  the  pagan  literature.  Nor  was  it 
seriously  disputed  in  the  eleventh  or  twelfth  century,  when 
men  began  to  delight  in  dialectic,  and  some  cared  for  pagan 
literature ;  nor  yet  in  the  thirteenth  when  an  increasing 
number  were  asking  many  things  from  philosophy  and 
natural  knowledge,  which  had  but  distant  bearing  on  the 


CHAP,  xxxiv   METHODS  OF  SCHOLASTICISM         289 

soul's  salvation.  One  of  these  men  was  Roger  Bacon,  whose 
scientific  studies  were  pursued  with  ceaseless  energy.  But 
he  could  also  state  emphatically  the  principle  of  the  worth- 
lessness  of  whatever  does  not  help  men  to  understand  the 
divine  truths  by  which  they  are  saved.  In  Bacon's  time,  the 
love  of  knowledge  was  enlarging  its  compass,  while,  really  or 
nominally  as  the  individual  case  might  be,  the  criterion  of 
relevancy  to  the  Faith  still  obtained,  and  set  the  topics  with 
which  men  should  occupy  themselves.  All  matters  of 
philosophy  or  natural  science  had  to  relate  themselves  to  the 
summum  bonum  of  salvation  in  order  to  possess  ultimate 
human  interest.  Therefore,  if  philosophy  was  to  preserve 
the  strongest  reason  for  its  existence,  it  had  to  remain  the 
handmaid  of  theology.  Still,  to  be  sure,  the  conception  of 
man's  beatitude  would  become  more  comprehensive  with  the 
expansion  and  variegation  of  the  desire  for  knowledge. 

As  the  summum  bonum  of  salvation  prescribed  the  topics 
of  ultimate  intellectual  interest  for  the  Middle  Ages,  so  the 
stress  which  it  laid  upon  one  topic  rather  than  another 
tended  to  direct  their  ordering  or  classification,  as  well  as 
the  proportion  of  attention  devoted  to  each  one.  Likewise 
the  form  or  method  of  presentation  was  controlled  by  the 
authority  of  the  Scriptural  statement  of  the  way  and  means 
of  salvation,  and  the  well-nigh  equally  authoritative  inter- 
pretation of  the  same  by  the  beatified  Fathers.  Thus  the 
nature  of  the  summum  bonum  and  the  character  of  its 
Scriptural  statement  and  patristic  exposition  suggested  the 
arrangement  of  topics,  and  set  the  method  of  their  treatment 
in  those  works  of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  which 
afford  the  most  important  presentations  of  the  ultimate 
intellectual  interests  of  that  time.  Obvious  examples  will 
be  Abaelard's  Sic  et  non  and  his  Theologia,  Hugo  of  St. 
Victor's  De  sacramentis,  the  Lombard's  Books  of  Sentences, 
and  the  Summa  theologiae  of  Thomas  Aquinas. 

It  will  be  seen  in  the  next  chapter  that  the  arrangement 
of  topics  in  these  comprehensive  treatises  differed  from  what 
would  have  been  evolved  through  the  requirements  of  a 
systematic  presentation  of  human  knowledge.  Aquinas  sets 
forth  the  reasons  why  one  mode  of  treatment  is  suitable  to 
philosophy  and  another  to  sacred  science,  and  why  the 

VOL.  II  U 


290  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  VH 

latter  may  omit  matters  proper  for  the  former,  or  treat  them 
from  another  point  of  view.  The  supremacy  of  sacred 
science  is  incidentally  shown  by  the  argument.  In  his 
Contra  Gentiles*  chapter  four,  book  second,  bears  the  title : 
"  Quod  aliter  considerat  de  creaturis  Philosophus  et  aliter 
Theologus "  ("  That  the  philosopher  views  the  creation  in 
one  way  and  the  theologian  in  another").  In  the  text  he 
says : 

"  The  science  (doctrina)  of  Christian  faith  considers  creatures 
so  far  as  there  may  be  in  them  some  likeness  of  God,  and  so  far  as 
error  regarding  them  might  lead  to  error  in  things  divine.  .  .  . 
Human  philosophy  considers  them  after  their  own  kind,  and  its 
parts  are  so  devised  as  to  correspond  with  the  different  classes 
(genera)  of  things  ;  but  the  faith  of  Christ  considers  them,  not  after 
their  own  kind,  as  for  example,  fire  as  fire,  but  as  representing  the 
divine  altitude.  .  .  .  The  philosopher  considers  what  belongs  to 
them  according  to  their  own  nature ;  the  believer  (fidelis)  regards 
in  creatures  only  what  pertains  to  them  in  their  relationship  to  God, 
as  that  they  are  created  by  Him  and  subject  to  Him.  Wherefore 
the  science  of  the  Faith  is  not  to  be  deemed  incomplete,  if  it 
passes  over  many  properties  of  things,  as  the  shape  of  the  heaven 
or  the  quality  of  motion.  ...  It  also  follows  that  the  two  sciences 
do  not  proceed  in  the  same  order.  With  philosophy,  which  regards 
creatures  in  themselves,  and  from  them  draws  on  into  a  knowledge 
of  God,  the  first  consideration  is  in  regard  to  the  creatures  and  the 
last  is  as  to  God.  But  in  the  science  of  faith,  which  views 
creatures  only  in  their  relationship  to  God  (in  ordine  ad  Deum),  the 
first  consideration  is  of  God,  and  next  of  the  creatures." 

Obviously  sacra  doctrina^  which  is  to  say,  tluologia, 
proceeds  differently  from  philosophia  humana,  and  evidently 
it  has  to  do  with  matters  of  ultimate  importance,  and 
therefore  of  ultimate  intellectual  interest.  The  passage 
quoted  from  the  Contra  Gentiles  may  be  taken  as  intro- 
ductory to  the  more  elaborate  statement  at  the  beginning 
of  his  Summa  t/teologiae,  where  Thomas  sets  forth  the 
principles  by  which  sacra  doctrina  is  distinguished  from  the 
philosophicae  disciplinae,  to  wit,  the  various  sciences  of  human 
philosophy : 

"  It  was  necessary  to  human  salvation  that  there  should  be  a 
science  (doctrina)  according  with  divine  revelation,  besides  the 

1  Called  also  his  Summa  pkilosophua,  to  distinguish  it  from  his  Summa 
theologiae. 


CHAP,  xxxiv    METHODS  OF  SCHOLASTICISM          291 

philosophical  disciplines  which  are  pursued  by  human  reason. 
Because  man  was  formed  (ordinatur)  toward  God  as  toward  an  end 
exceeding  reason's  comprehension.  That  end  should  be  known  to 
men,  who  ought  to  regulate  their  intentions  and  actions  toward  an 
end.  Wherefore  it  was  necessary  for  salvation  that  man  should 
know  certain  matters  through  revelation,  which  surpass  human 
reason." 

Thomas  now  points  out  that,  on  account  of  many  errors, 
it  also  was  necessary  for  man  to  be  instructed  through 
divine  revelation  as  to  those  saving  truths  concerning  God 
which  human  reason  was  capable  of  investigating.  He  next 
proceeds  to  show  that  sacra  doctrina  is  science. 

"  But  there  are  two  kinds  of  sciences.  There  are  those  which 
proceed  from  the  principles  known  by  the  natural  light  of  the 
mind,  as  arithmetic  and  geometry.  There  are  others  which  proceed 
from  principles  known  by  the  light  of  a  superior  science :  as  per- 
spective proceeds  from  principles  made  known  through  geometry, 
and  music  from  principles  known  through  arithmetic.  And  sacra 
doctrina  is  science  in  this  way,  because  it  proceeds  from  principles 
known  by  the  light  of  a  superior  science  or  knowledge  which  is  the 
knowledge  belonging  to  God  and  the  beatified.  Thus  as  music 
believes  the  principles  delivered  to  it  by  arithmetic,  so  sacred 
doctrine  believes  the  principles  revealed  to  it  from  God." 

The  question  then  is  raised  whether  sacra  doctrina  is  one 
science,  or  many.  And  Thomas  answers,  that  it  is  one,  by 
reason  of  the  unity  of  its  formal  object  For  it  views  every- 
thing discussed  by  it  as  divinely  revealed  ;  and  all  things 
which  are  subjects  of  revelation  (revelabilia)  have  part  in  the 
formal  conception  of  this  science  ;  and  so  are  comprehended 
under  sacra  doctrina,  as  under  one  science.  Nevertheless  it 
extends  to  subjects  belonging  to  various  departments  of 
knowledge  so  far  as  they  are  knowable  through  divine 
illumination.  As  some  of  these  may  be  practical  and  some 
speculative,  it  follows  that  sacred  science  includes  both  the 
practical  and  the  speculative,  even  as  God  with  the  same 
knowledge  knows  himself  and  also  the  things  He  makes. 

"  Yet  this  science  is  more  speculative  than  practical,  because 
on  principle  it  treats  of  divine  things  rather  than  human  actions, 
which  it  treats  in  so  far  as  man  by  means  of  them  is  directed 
(ordinatur)  to  perfect  cognition  of  God,  wherein  eternal  beatitude 
consists.  This  science  in  its  speculative  as  well  as  practical 


292  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vu 

functions  transcends  other  sciences,  speculative  and  practical. 
One  speculative  science  is  said  to  be  worthier  than  another,  by 
reason  of  its  certitude,  or  the  dignity  of  its  matter.  In  both 
respects  this  science  surpasses  other  speculative  sciences,  because 
the  others  have  certitude  from  the  natural  light  of  human  reason, 
which  may  err ;  but  this  has  certitude  from  the  light  of  the  divine 
knowledge,  which  cannot  be  deceived ;  likewise  by  reason  of  the 
dignity  of  its  matter,  because  primarily  it  relates  to  matters  too  high 
for  reason,  while  other  sciences  consider  only  those  which  are 
subjected  to  reason.  It  is  worthier  than  the  practical  sciences, 
which  are  ordained  for  an  ulterior  end ;  for  so  far  as  this  science  is 
practical,  its  end  is  eternal  beatitude,  unto  which  as  an  ulterior  end 
all  other  ends  of  the  practical  sciences  are  ordained  (ordinantur). 

"  Moreover  although  this  science  may  accept  something  from 
the  philosophical  sciences,  it  requires  them  merely  for  the  larger 
manifestation  of  the  matters  which  it  teaches.  For  it  takes  its 
principles,  not  from  other  sciences,  but  immediately  from  God 
through  revelation.  So  it  does  not  receive  from  them  as  from 
superiors,  but  uses  them  as  servants.  Even  so,  it  uses  them  not 
because  of  any  defect  of  its  own,  but  because  of  the  defectiveness 
of  our  intellect  which  is  more  easily  conducted  (manuducitur)  by 
natural  reason  to  the  things  above  reason  which  this  science 
teaches." 

Thomas  now  shows,  with  scholastic  formalism,  that  God 
is  the  subjectum  of  this  science  ;  since  all  things  in  it  are 
treated  with  reference  to  God  (sub  ratione  Dei),  either 
because  they  are  God  himself,  or  because  they  bear  relation- 
ship (habent  ordinem}  to  God  as  toward  their  cause  and  end 
(principium  et  finem).  The  final  question  is  whether  this 
science  be  argumentative^,  using  arguments  and  proofs ;  and 
Thomas  thus  sets  forth  his  masterly  solution  : 

"  I  reply,  it  should  be  said  that  as  other  sciences  do  not  prove 
their  first  principles,  but  argue  from  them  in  order  to  prove  other 
matters,  so  this  science  does  not  argue  to  prove  its  principles, 
which  are  articles  of  Faith,  but  proceeds  from  them  to  prove  some- 
thing else,  as  the  Apostle,  in  i  Corinthians  xv.,  argues  from  the 
resurrection  of  Christ  to  prove  the  resurrection  of  us  all.  One 
should  bear  in  mind  that  in  the  philosophic  sciences  the  lower 
science  neither  proves  its  own  first  principles  nor  disputes  with 
him  who  denies  them,  but  leaves  that  to  a  higher  science. 
But  the  science  which  is  the  highest  among  them,  that  is 
metaphysics,  does  dispute  with  him  who  denies  its  principles, 
if  the  adversary  will  concede  anything ;  if  he  concede  nothing 


CHAP,  xxxiv   METHODS  OF  SCHOLASTICISM         293 

it  cannot  thus  argue  with  him,  but  can  only  overthrow  his  argu- 
ments. Likewise  sacra  Scriptura  (or  doctrina  or  sacred  science, 
theology),  since  it  owns  no  higher  science,  disputes  with  him 
who  denies  its  principles,  by  argument  indeed,  if  the  adversary  will 
concede  any  of  the  matters  which  it  accepts  through  revelation. 
Thus  through  Scriptural  authorities  we  dispute  against  heretics, 
and  adduce  one  article  against  those  who  deny  another.  But 
if  the  adversary  will  give  credence  to  nothing  which  is  divinely 
revealed,  sacred  science  has  no  arguments  by  which  to  prove  to  him 
the  articles  of  faith,  but  has  only  arguments  to  refute  his  reasonings 
against  the  Faith,  should  he  adduce  any.  For  since  faith  rests  on 
infallible  truth,  its  contrary  cannot  be  demonstrated :  manifestly  the 
proofs  which  are  brought  against  it  are  not  proofs,  but  contro- 
vertible  arguments. 

"  To  argue  from  authority  is  most  appropriate  to  this  science  ; 
for  its  principles  rest  on  revelation,  and  it  is  proper  to  credit  the 
authority  of  those  to  whom  the  revelation  was  made.  Nor  does 
this  derogate  from  the  dignity  of  this  science ;  for  although  proof 
from  authority  based  on  human  reason  may  be  weak,  yet  proof  from 
authority  based  on  divine  revelation  is  most  effective. 

"  Yet  sacred  science  also  makes  use  of  human  reason ;  not 
indeed  to  prove  the  Faith,  because  this  would  take  away  the  merit 
of  believing ;  but  to  make  manifest  other  things  which  may  be 
treated  in  this  science.  For  since  grace  does  not  annul  nature,  but 
perfects  it,  natural  reason  should  serve  faith,  even  as  the  natural 
inclination  conforms  itself  to  love  (caritas).  Hence  sacred  science 
uses  the  philosophers  also  as  authority,  where  they  were  able  to  know 
the  truth  through  natural  reason.  It  uses  authorities  of  this  kind 
as  extraneous  arguments  having  probability.  But  it  uses  the 
authorities  of  the  canonical  Scriptures  arguing  from  its  own 
premises  and  with  certainty.  And  it  uses  the  authorities  of  other 
doctors  of  the  Church,  as  arguing  upon  its  own  ground,  yet  only 
with  probability.  For  our  faith  rests  upon  the  revelation  made  to 
the  Apostles  and  Prophets,  who  wrote  the  canonical  books  ;  and 
not  upon  the  revelation,  if  there  was  any,  made  to  other  doctors." ] 

Mediaeval  thought  was  beset  behind  and  before  by  the 
compulsion  of  its  conditions.  Its  mighty  antecedents  lived 
in  it,  and  wrought  as  moulding  forces.  Well  we  know  them, 
two  in  number,  the  one,  of  course,  the  antique  philosophy  ; 
the  other,  again  of  course,  the  dogmatic  Christian  Faith, 
itself  shot  through  and  through  with  antique  metaphysics,  in 
the  terms  of  which  it  had  been  formulated.  These  two, 

1  Summa  theologiae,  i.  i.,  quaestio  i.  art.  1-8. 


294  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

very  dual  and  yet  joined,  antagonistic  and  again  united, 
constituted  the  form-giving  principles  of  mediaeval  thinking. 
They  were,  speaking  in  scholastic  phrase,  the  substantial  as 
well  as  accidental  forms  of  mediaeval  theology,  philosophy, 
and  knowledge.  Which  means  that  they  set  the  lines  of 
mediaeval  theology  or  philosophy,  and  caused  the  one  and 
the  other  to  be  what  it  became,  rather  than  something  else  ; 
and  also  that  they  supplied  the  knowledge  which  mediaeval 
men  laboured  to  acquire,  and  attempted  to  adjust  their 
thinking  to.  Thus,  through  the  twelfth,  the  thirteenth,  and 
the  fourteenth  centuries,  they  remained  the  inworking 
formal  causes  of  mediaeval  thought ;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  moving  and  efficient  causes  (still  speaking  in 
scholastic-Aristotelian  phrase)  were  the  human  impulses 
which  those  formal  causes  moulded,  or  indeed  suggested,  and 
the  faculties  which  they  trained. 

The  patristic  system  of  dogma  with  the  antique 
philosophy,  set  the  forms  of  mediaeval  expression,  fixed  the 
distinctive  qualities  of  mediaeval  thought,  furnished  its  topics, 
and  even  necessitated  its  problems — in  two  ways  :  First, 
through  the  specific  substance  which  passed  over  and  filled 
the  mediaeval  productions  ;  and  secondly,  simply  by  reason 
of  the  existence  of  such  a  vast  authoritative  body  of  antique 
and  patristic  opinion,  knowledge,  dogma,  which  the  Middle 
Ages  had  to  accept  and  master,  and  beyond  which  the 
substance  of  mediaeval  thinking  was  hardly  destined  to 
advance. 

The  first  way  is  obvious  enough,  inasmuch  as  patristic 
and  antique  matter  palpably  make  the  substance  of  mediaeval 
theology  and  philosophy.  The  second  is  less  obvious,  but 
equally  important.  This  mass  of  dogma,  knowledge,  and 
opinion,  existed  finished  and  complete.  Men  imperfectly 
equipped  to  comprehend  it  were  brought  to  it  by  the 
conviction  that  it  was  necessary  to  their  salvation,  and  then 
gradually  by  the  persuasion  also  that  it  offered  the  only 
means  of  intellectual  progress.  The  struggle  to  master  such 
a  volume  of  knowledge  issuing  from  a  more  creative  past, 
gave  rise  to  novel  problems,  or  promoted  old  ones  to  a  novel 
prominence.  The  problem  of  universals  was  taken  directly 
from  the  antique  dialectic.  It  played  a  monstrous  rdle  in 


CHAP,  xxxiv  METHODS  OF  SCHOLASTICISM         295 

the  twelfth  century  because  it  was  in  very  essence  a 
fundamental  problem  of  cognition,  of  knowing,  and  so 
pressed  upon  men  who  were  driven  by  the  need  to  master 
continually  unfolding  continents  of  thought1  This  is  an 
instance  of  a  problem  transmitted  from  the  past,  but  blown 
up  to  extraordinary  importance  by  mediaeval  intellectual 
conditions.  So  throughout  the  whole  scholastic  range, 
attitude  and  method  alike  are  fixed  by  the  fact  that 
scholasticism  was  primarily  an  appropriation  of  transmitted 
propositions. 

In  considering  the  characteristics  of  mediaeval  thought,  it 
is  well  to  bear  in  mind  these  diverse  ways  in  which  its 
antecedents  made  it  what  it  was  :  through  their  substance 
transmitted  to  it ;  through  the  receptive  attitude  forced  upon 
men  by  existing  accumulations  of  authoritative  doctrine,  and 
the  method  entailed  upon  mediaeval  thought  by  its  scholastic 
rather  than  originative  character.  Also  one  will  not  omit  to 
notice  which  elements  came  from  the  action  of  the  patristic 
body  of  antecedents,  rather  than  from  the  antique  group, 
and  vice  versa. 

Since  the  antique  and  patristic  constituted  well-nigh  the 
whole  substance  of  philosophy  and  theology  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  a  separate  consideration  of  what  was  thus  transmitted 
would  amount  to  a  history  of  mediaeval  thought  from  a 
somewhat  unilluminating  point  of  view.  On  the  other  hand, 
one  may  learn  much  as  to  the  qualities  of  mediaeval  thought 
from  observing  the  attitudes  of  various  men  in  successive 
centuries  toward  Greek  philosophy  and  patristic  theology. 
The  Fathers  had  used  the  concepts  of  the  former  in  the 
construction  of  their  systems  of  acceptance  of  the  Christian 
Faith.  But  the  spirit  of  inquiry  from  which  Greek  philosophy 
had  sprung,  was  very  different  from  the  spirit  in  which  the 
Fathers  used  its  concepts  and  arguments,  in  order  to 
substantiate  what  they  accepted  on  the  authority  of  Scripture 
and  tradition.  It  is  true  that  Greek  philosophy  in  the  Neo- 
Platonism  of  Porphyry  and  lamblicus  was  not  far  from  the 
patristic  attitude  toward  knowledge.  But  the  spirit  of  these 
declining  moods  of  Neo-Platonism  was  not  the  spirit  which 
had  carried  the  philosophy  of  the  Greeks  to  its  intellectual 

»  Pott,  Chapter  XXXVI.  i. 


296  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

culmination  in  Plato  and  Aristotle,  and  to  its  attainment  of 
the  ethically  rational  in  Stoicism  and  the  system  of  Epicurus. 

Thus  patristic  thinking  was  essentially  different  in 
purpose  and  method  from  the  philosophy  which  it  forced  to 
serve  its  uses  ;  and  the  two  differed  by  every  difference  of 
method,  spirit,  and  intent  which  were  destined  to  appear 
among  the  various  kinds  of  mediaeval  thinkers.  But  the 
difference  between  Greek  philosopher  and  Church  Father 
was  deeper  than  any  that  ever  could  exist  among  mediaeval 
men.  Some  of  the  last  might  be  conventionally  orthodox 
and  passionately  pious,  while  others  cared  more  distinctly 
for  the  fruits  of  knowledge.  But  even  these  could  not  be  as 
Greek  philosophers,  because  they  were  accustomed  to  rely 
on  authority,  and  because  they  who  drew  their  knowledge 
from  an  existing  store  would  not  have  the  independence 
and  originality  distinguishing  the  Greeks,  who  had  created 
so  much  of  that  store  from  which  they  drew.1  Moreover, 
while  neither  Plato's  inquiry  for  truth,  nor  Aristotle's  catholic 
search  for  knowledge,  was  isolated  from  its  bearing  on  either 
the  conduct  or  the  event  of  life,  nevertheless  with  them 
rational  inquiry  was  a  final  motive  representing  in  itself  that 
which  was  most  divinely  human,  and  so  the  best  for  man.'2 
But  with  the  philosophers  of  the  Middle  Ages,  it  never  was 
quite  so.  For  the  need  of  salvation  had  worked  in  men's 
blood  for  generations.  And  salvation,  man's  highest  good, 
did  not  consist  in  humanly-attained  knowledge  or  in  virtue 
won  by  human  strength  ;  but  was  divinely  mediated  and 
had  to  be  accepted  upon  authority.  Hence,  even  in  the 
great  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries,  intellectual  inquiry 
was  never  unlimbered  from  bands  of  deference,  nor  ever 
quite  dispassionately  rational  or  unaffected  by  the  mortal 
need  to  attain  a  salvation  which  was  bestowed  or  withheld 
by  God  according  to  His  plan  authoritatively  declared. 

Accordingly  all  mediaeval  variances  of  thought  show 
common  similitudes  :  to  wit,  some  consciousness  of  need  of 

1  Even  the  Averroists  were  more  mediaeval  than  Greek,  inasmuch  as  they 
professed  to  follow  Aristotle  implicitly.     Cf.  post,  Chapter  XXXVII.,  at  the  end. 

2  A    touch    of    "salvation,"   or   salvation's   need,    is    on  Plato   when   his 
"  philosophy  "  becomes  a  consideration  of  death  (^f\irt\  Bavdrov)  and  a  process 
of  growing   as  like  to  God  (ojuoJaxru  6e£)  as  man    can.      Phaedo,   80  E,  and 
Thcaetetus,  176  A. 


CHAP,  xxxiv  METHODS  OF  SCHOLASTICISM          297 

super-rational  and  superhuman  salvation  ;  deference  to  some 
authority ;  and  finally  a  pervasive  scholasticism,  since 
mediaeval  thought  was  of  necessity  diligent,  acceptant, 
reflective,  rather  than  original.  One  will  be  impressed  with 
the  formal  character  of  mediaeval  thought.  For  being  thus 
scholastic,  it  was  occupied  with  devising  forms  through  which 
to  express,  or  re-express,  the  mass  of  knowledge  proffered  to 
it.  Besides,  formal  logic  was  a  prominent  part  of  the 
transmitted  contents  of  antique  philosophy;  and  became 
a  chief  discipline  for  mediaeval  students ;  because  they 
accepted  it  along  with  all  the  rest,  and  found  its  training 
helpful  for  men  burdened  with  such  intellectual  tasks  as 
theirs. 

Within  the  lines  of  these  universal  qualities  wind  the 
divergencies  of  mediaeval  thought ;  and  one  will  notice  how 
they  consist  in  leanings  toward  the  ways  of  Greek  philosophy, 
or  a  reliance  more  or  less  complete  upon  the  contents  and 
method  of  patristic  theology.  One  common  quality,  of 
which  we  note  the  variations,  is  that  of  deference  to  the 
authority  of  the  past  The  mediaeval  scholar  could  hardly 
read  a  classic  poet  without  finding  authoritative  statements 
upon  every  topic  brushed  by  the  poet's  fancy,  and  of  course 
the  matter  of  more  serious  writings,  history,  logic,  natural 
science,  was  implicitly  accepted.  If  the  pagan  learning  was 
thus  regarded,  how  much  more  absolute  was  the  deference  to 
sacred  doctrine.  Here  all  was  authority.  Scripture  was 
the  primary  source  ;  next  came  the  creed,  and  the  dogmas 
established  by  councils  ;  and  then  the  expositions  of  the 
Fathers.  Thus  the  meaning  of  the  authoritative  Scripture 
was  pressed  into  authoritative  dogma,  and  then  authoritatively 
systematized.  The  process  had  been  intellectual  and 
rational,  yet  with  the  driven  rationality  of  Church  Fathers 
struggling  to  formulate  and  express  the  accepted  import  of 
the  Faith  delivered  to  the  saints.  Authority,  faith,  held  the 
primacy,  and  in  two  senses,  for  not  only  was  it  supreme  and 
final,  but  it  was  also  prior  in  initiative  efficiency.  Tertullian's 
certum  est,  quia  impossibile  est,  was  an  extreme  paradox. 
But  Augustine's  credimus  ut  cognoscamus  was  fundamental, 
and  remained  unshaken.  Anselm  lays  it  at  the  basis  of  his 
arguments  ;  with  Bernard  and  many  others  it  is  credo  first 


298  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

of  all,  let  the  intelligere  come  as  it  may,  and  as  it  will 
according  to  the  fulness  of  our  faith.  The  same  principle 
of  faith's  efficient  primacy  is  temperamentally  as  well  as 
logically  fundamental  with  Bonaventura. 

Here  then  was  a  first  general  quality  of  mediaeval 
thought :  deference  to  authority.  Now  for  the  variances. 
Scarcely  diverging,  save  in  emphasis,  from  Augustine  and 
Bonaventura,  are  the  greatest  of  the  schoolmen,  Albert  and 
Thomas.  They  defer  to  authority  and  recognize  the  primacy 
of  faith,  and  yet  they  will,  with  abundant  use  of  reason, 
deliminate  the  respective  provinces  of  grace  and  human 
knowledge,  and  distinguish  the  absolute  authority  of  Scrip- 
ture from  the  statements  even  of  the  saints,  which  may  be 
weighed  and  criticized.  In  secular  philosophy,  these  two 
will,  when  their  faith  admits,  accept  the  views  of  the 
philosophers — Aristotle  above  all — yet  using  their  own 
reason.  They  are  profoundly  interested  in  knowledge  and 
metaphysical  dialectic,  but  follow  it  with  deferential  tempers 
and  believing  Christian  souls. 

Outside  the  company  of  such,  are  men  of  more  independent 
temper,  whose  attitude  tends  to  weaken  the  principle  of 
acceptance  of  authority  in  sacred  doctrine.  The  first  of 
these  was  Eriugena  with  his  explicit  statement  that  reason 
is  greater  than  authority  ;  yet  we  may  assume  that  he  was 
not  intending  to  impugn  Scripture.  Centuries  later  another 
chief  example  is  Abaelard,  whose  dialectic  temper  leads  him 
to  wish  to  prove  everything  by  reason.  Not  that  he  stated, 
or  would  have  admitted  this  ;  yet  the  extreme  rationalizing 
tendency  of  the  man  is  projected  through  such  a  passage 
as  the  following  from  his  Historia  calamitatum,  where  he 
alludes  to  the  circumstances  of  the  composition  of  his  work 
upon  the  Trinity.  He  had  become  a  monk  in  the  monastery 
of  St.  Denis,  but  students  were  still  thronging  to  hear  him, 
to  the  wrath  of  some  of  his  superiors. 

"  Then  it  came  about  that  I  was  brought  to  expound  the  very 
foundation  of  our  faith  by  applying  the  analogies  of  human  reason, 
and  was  led  to  compose  for  my  pupils  a  theological  treatise  on 
the  divine  Unity  and  Trinity.  They  were  calling  for  human  and 
philosophical  arguments,  and  insisting  upon  something  intelligible, 
rather  than  mere  words,  saying  that  there  had  been  more  than 


CHAP,  xxxiv   METHODS  OF  SCHOLASTICISM          299 

enough  of  talk  which  the  mind  could  not  follow;  that  it  was 
impossible  to  believe  what  was  not  understood  in  the  first  place ; 
and  that  it  was  ridiculous  for  any  one  to  set  forth  to  others  what 
neither  he  nor  they  could  rationally  conceive  (intcllectu  capere)" 

And  Abaelard  cites  the  verse  from  Matthew  about  the 
blind  leaders  of  the  blind,  and  goes  on  to  tell  of  the  success 
of  his  treatise,  which  pleased  everybody,  yet  provoked  the 
greater  envy  because  of  the  difficulty  of  the  questions  which 
it  elucidated  ;  and  at  last  envy  blew  up  the  condemnation 
of  his  book,  at  the  Council  of  Soissons,  in  the  year  of  grace 

I  I2I.1 

Here  one  has  the  plain  reversal.  We  must  first  under- 
stand in  order  to  believe.  Doubtless  the  demands  of 
Abaelard's  students  to  have  the  principles  of  the  Christian 
Faith  explained,  that  they  might  be  understood  and  accepted 
rationally,  echoed  the  master's  imperative  intellectual  need. 
Not  that  Abaelard  would  breathe  the  faintest  doubt  of  these 
verities ;  they  were  absolute  and  unquestionable.  He 
accepted  them  upon  authority  just  as  implicitly  (he  might 
think)  as  St.  Bernard.  Herein  he  shows  the  mediaeval 
quality  of  deference.  But  he  will  understand  with  his  mind 
the  profoundest  truths  enunciated  by  authority ;  he  will 
explain  them  rationally,  that  the  mind  may  rationally 
comprehend  them. 

Men  of  an  opposite  cast  of  mind  foresaw  the  outcome  of 
this  rationalization  of  dogma  more  surely  than  the  subtle 
dialectician  for  whom  this  process  was  both  peremptory  and 
proper.  And  the  Church  acted  with  a  true  instinct  in 
condemning  Abaelard  in  spite  of  his  protestations  of  belief, 
just  as  with  a  like  true  instinct  Friar  Bacon's  own  Franciscan 
Order  looked  askance  on  one  whose  mind  was  suspiciously  set 
upon  observation  and  experiment — and  cavilling  at  others. 
Celui-ci  tuera  cela  !  The  ultra-scientific  spirit  is  dangerous  to 
faith — and  Bacon's  asseverations  that  no  knowledge  was  of 
value  save  as  it  helped  the  soul's  salvation,  was  doubtless 
regarded  as  a  conventional  insincerity.  Yet  Roger  Bacon 
had  his  mediaeval  deferences,  as  will  appear.2 

Neither  one  extreme  view  nor  the  other  was  to  represent 

1  Historia  calamitatum,  cap.  9  and  10.     Cf.  post,  p.  3°3- 
-  Post,  Chapter  XLI. 


300  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

the  attitude  of  thoughtful  and  believing  Christendom  ;  not 
William  of  St.  Thierry  and  St  Bernard,  nor  yet  (on  these 
points)  Abaelard  and  Friar  Bacon  should  prevail  ;  but  the 
all-balancing  and  all-considering  Aquinas.  He  will  draw  the 
lines  between  faith  and  reason,  and  bulwark  them  with 
arguments  which  shall  seem  to  render  unto  reason  the  things 
of  reason,  and  unto  faith  its  due.  Yet  it  is  actually  Roger 
Bacon  who  accuses  Thomas  of  making  his  Theology  out  of 
dialectic  and  very  human  reasonings.  It  was  true  ;  and  we 
are  again  reminded  how  variant  views  shaded  into  each  other 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  all  within  certain  lines  of  similarity. 
Practically  all  mediaeval  thinkers  defer  to  authority — more  or 
less  ;  and  all  hold  to  some  principle  of  faith,  to  the  necessity 
of  believing  something,  for  the  soul's  salvation.  There  is 
likewise  some  similarity  in  their  attitudes  toward  intellectual 
interests.  For  all  recognized  their  propriety,  and  gave  credit 
to  the  human  desire  to  know.  Likewise  all  saw  that 
salvation,  the  summum  bonum  for  man,  included  more  than 
intellection  ;  and  felt  that  it  held  some  consummation  of 
other  human  impulses  ;  that  it  held  love — the  love  of  God 
along  with  the  intellectual  ardour  of  contemplation  ;  and  well- 
nigh  all  recognized  also  that  the  faith  held  mystery,  not  to 
be  solved  by  reason.  Thus  all  were  rational — some  more, 
some  less  ;  and  all  were  devotional  and  believing,  pietistic, 
ardent — some  more,  some  less  ;  according  as  the  intellectual 
nature  dominated  over  the  emotional,  or  the  emotions  quelled 
the  conscious  exercise  of  reason,  yet  reached  out  and  upward 
from  what  knowledge  and  reason  had  given  as  a  base  to 
spring  from. 

Thus  the  mediaeval  spirit,  variant  within  its  lines  of  like- 
ness ;  and  of  a  piece  with  it  was  the  field  it  worked  in,  which 
made  its  range  and  scope.  Here  as  well,  a  saving  know- 
ledge of  God  and  the  soul  was  central  and  chief  among 
all  intellectual  interests.  None  denied  this.  Augustine,  the 
universal  prototype  of  the  mediaeval  mind,  had  cried,  "  God 
and  the  soul,  these  will  I  know,  and  these  are  all."  But  wide 
had  been  the  scope  of  his  knowledge  of  God  and  the  soul  ; 
and  in  the  centuries  which  hung  upon  his  words,  wide  also 
was  the  range  of  knowledge  subsumed  under  those  capitals. 
How  would  one  know  God  and  the  soul  ?  Might  one  not 


CHAP,  xxxiv   METHODS  OF  SCHOLASTICISM          301 

know  God  in  all  His  universe,  in  the  height  and  breadth 
thereof,  and  backwards  and  forwards  through  the  reach  of 
time  ?  Might  not  one  also  know  the  soul  in  all  its  operations, 
all  its  queries  and  desires  ;  would  not  it  and  they,  and  their 
activities,  make  up  the  complementary  side  of  knowledge — 
complementary  to  the  primal  object,  God,  known  in  His 
eternity,  in  His  temporal  creation,  in  His  everlasting  govern- 
ance ?  Wide  or  narrow  might  be  the  intellectual  interests 
included  within  a  knowledge  of  God  and  the  soul.  And  while 
many  men  kept  close  to  the  centre  and  saving  nexus  of  these 
potentially  universal  themes,  others  might  become  absorbed 
with  data  of  the  creature-world,  or  with  the  manifold  actions 
of  the  mind  of  man,  so  as  to  forget  to  keep  all  duly  ordered 
and  connected  with  the  central  thought. 

So  the  search  for  knowledge  might  roam  afield.  Like- 
wise as  to  its  motive  ;  practically  with  many  men  it  was,  in 
itself,  a  joy  and  end ;  although  they  might  continue  to 
connect  this  end  formally  with  the  salvation  of  the  soul. 
Roger  Bacon  of  a  surety  was  such  a  one.  Another  was 
Albertus  Magnus.  The  laborious  culling  of  twenty  tomes 
of  universal  knowledge  surely  had  the  joy  of  knowing  as  the 
active  motive.  And  Aquinas  too  ;  no  one  could  be  such  an 
acquisitive  and  reasoning  genius,  without  the  love  of  know- 
ledge in  his  soul.  Yet  Thomas  never  let  this  love  point 
untrue  to  its  goal  of  research  and  devotion,  to  wit,  sacred 
doctrine,  theology,  the  Christian  Faith  in  its  very  widest 
compass,  yet  in  its  unity  of  saving  purpose. 

In  Thomas  Aquinas  the  certitude  of  faith,  the  sense  of 
grace,  the  ardour  of  love,  never  quenched  the  conscious 
action  of  the  reasoning  and  knowing  mind  ;  nor  did 
reasoning  quench  devotion.  A  balance  too,  though  perhaps 
with  one  scale  higher  than  the  other,  was  kept  by 
Bonaventura,  whose  mind  had  reason's  faculty,  but  whose 
heart  burned  perpetually  toward  God.  Another  rationally 
ardent  soul  was  Bonaventura's  intellectual  forerunner,  Hugo 
of  St.  Victor.  In  these  men  intellect  did  not  outstrip  the 
fervours  of  contemplation.  But  such  catholic  balance  did 
not  hold  with  Abaelard  and  Bacon,  who  lacked  the  pietistic 
temperament.  With  others,  conversely,  the  strength  of  the 
pietistic  and  emotional  nature  overbore  the  intellect ;  the 


302  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

mind  was  less  exacting  ;  and  devotional  ardour  used  reason 
solely  for  its  purposes.  The  mightiest  of  these  were  Bernard 
and  Francis.  To  the  same  key  might  chime  the  woman,  St. 
Hildegard  of  Bingen.  We  narrow  down  from  these  to 
hectic  souls  content  with  a  few  thoughts  which  serve  as  a 
basis  for  the  heart's  fervours. 

The  varying  attitudes  of  mediaeval  thinkers  toward 
reason  and  authority,  and  even  their  different  views  upon 
the  limits  of  the  field  of  salutary  knowledge,  are  exemplified 
in  their  methods,  or  rather  in  the  variations  of  their 
common  method.  Here  the  factors  were  again  authority 
and  the  intellect  which  considers  the  authority,  and  in 
terms  of  its  own  rational  processes  reacts  upon  the  proposi- 
tion under  view.  The  intellect  might  simply  accept 
authority ;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  it  might,  through  dialectic, 
seek  a  conclusion  of  its  own.  But  midway  between  a  mere 
acceptance  of  authority,  and  the  endeavour  of  dialectic  for 
a  conclusion  of  its  own,  there  is  the  reasoning  process 
which  perceives  divergence  among  authorities,  compares, 
discriminates,  interprets,  and  at  last  acts  as  umpire.  This 
was  the  combined  and  catholic  scholastic  method.  It 
contained  the  two  factors  of  its  necessary  duality ;  and  its 
variations  (besides  the  gradual  perfecting  of  its  form  from 
one  generation  to  another)  consisted  in  the  predominant 
employment  of  one  factor  or  the  other. 

The  beginning  was  in  the  Carolingian  time,  when 
Rabanus  compiled  his  authorities  from  sources  sacred  and 
profane,  scarcely  discriminating  except  to  maintain  the 
pre-eminence  of  the  sacred  matter.  His  younger  con- 
temporary, Eriugena,  was  a  translator  of  his  own  chief 
source,  Pseudo-Dionysius,  him  of  the  Hierarchies,  Celestial 
and  Ecclesiastical.  Yet  he  composed  also  a  veritable  book, 
De  divisiom  naturae,  in  which  he  put  his  matter  together 
organically  and  with  argument.  And  while  professing  to 
hold  to  the  authority  of  Scripture  and  the  Fathers,  he  not 
only  took  upon  himself  to  select  from  their  statements,  but 
propounded  the  proposition  that  the  authority  which  is  not 
confirmed  by  reason  appears  weak.  Eriugena  made  his 
authorities  yield  him  what  his  reason  required.  His 
argumentative  method  became  an  independent  rehandling  of 


CHAP,  xxxiv  METHODS  OF  SCHOLASTICISM          303 

matter  drawn  from  them.  It  was  very  different  from  the 
plodding  excerpt-gathering  of  Rabanus. 

We  pass  down  the  centuries  to  Anselm.  Contemplative 
and  religious,  his  reverence  for  authority  was  unimpaired  by 
any  conscious  need  to  refashion  its  meaning.  Though  he 
possessed  creative  intellectual  powers,  they  were  incited  and 
controlled  by  his  deep  piety.  Hence  his  works  were  con- 
structed of  original  and  lofty  arguments,  but  such  as  did  not 
infringe  upon  either  the  efficient  or  the  final  priority  of 
faith. 

With  Abaelard  of  many-sided  fame  the  duality  of 
method  becomes  explicit,  and  is,  if  one  may  say  so,  set  by 
the  ears.  On  the  one  hand,  he  advances  in  his  constructive 
theological  treatises  toward  a  portentous  application  of 
reason  to  explain  the  contents  of  the  Christian  Faith  ;  on 
the  other,  somewhat  sardonically,  he  devises  a  scheme  for 
the  employment  and  presentation  of  authorities  upon  these 
sacred  matters,  a  scheme  so  obviously  apt  that  once  made 
known  it  could  not  but  be  followed  and  perfected. 

The  divers  works  of  a  man  are  likely  to  bear  some 
relation  and  resemblance  to  each  other.  Abaelard  was  a 
reasoner,  more  specifically  speaking,  a  dialectician  according 
to  the  ways  of  Aristotelian  logic.  And  in  categories  of 
formal  logic  he  sought  to  rationalize  every  matter  appre- 
hended by  his  mind.  Swayed  by  the  master-interest  of  the 
time,  he  turned  to  theology  ;  and  his  own  nature  impelled 
him  to  apply  a  constructive  dialectic  to  its  systematic 
formulation.  The  result  is  exemplified  in  the  extant  portion 
of  his  Theologia  (mis-called  Introductio  ad  Theologiam\  which 
was  condemned  by  the  Council  of  Sens  in  1141,  the  year 
before  the  master's  death.  The  spirit  of  this  work  appears 
in  the  passage  already  quoted  from  the  Historia  calamitatum, 
referring  to  what  was  substantially  an  earlier  form  of  the 
Theologia}  The  Theologia  argues  for  a  free  use  of  dialectic 
in  expounding  dogma,  especially  in  order  to  refute  those 
heretics  who  will  not  listen  to  authority,  but  demand  reasons. 
Like  Abaelard's  previous  theological  treatises,  it  is  filled  with 

1  Ante,  p.  298.  I  cannot  avoid  referring  to  Abaelard  several  times  before 
considering  the  man  and  his  work  more  specifically,  and  in  the  proper  place  ; 
post,  Chapter  XXXVI.  I. 


304  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOKVII 

citations  of  authority,  principally  Augustine  ;  and  the  reader 
feels  the  author's  hesitancy  to  reveal  that  dialectic  is  the 
architect.  Nor,  in  fact,  is  the  work  an  exclusively  dialectic 
structure  ;  yet  it  illustrates  (if  it  does  not  always  inculcate) 
the  application  of  the  arguments  of  human  reason  to  the 
exposition  and  substantiation  of  the  fundamental  and  most 
deeply  hidden  contents  of  the  Christian  Faith.  Obviously 
Abaelard  was  not  an  initiator  here.  Augustine  had  devoted 
his  life  to  fortifying  the  Faith  with  argument  and  explanation  ; 
Eriugena,  with  a  far  weaker  realization  of  its  contents,  had 
employed  a  more  distorting  metaphysics  in  its  presentation  ; 
and  saintly  Anselm  had  flown  his  veritable  eagle  flights  of 
reason.  But  Abaelard's  more  systematic  work  represents  a 
further  stage  in  the  application  of  independent  dialectic  to 
dogma,  and  an  innovating  freedom  in  the  citation  of  pagan 
philosophers  to  demonstrate  its  philosophic  reasonableness. 
Nevertheless  his  statement  that  he  had  gathered  these 
citations  from  writings  of  the  Fathers,  and  not  from  the 
books  of  the  philosophers  (quorum  pauca  novz),1  shows  that 
he  was  only  using  what  the  Fathers  had  made  use  of  before 
him,  and  also  indicates  the  slightness  of  his  independent 
knowledge  of  Greek  philosophy. 

On  the  other  hand,  Abaelard's  way  of  presenting 
authorities  for  and  against  a  theological  proposition  was 
more  distinctly  original.  He  seems  to  have  been  the  first 
purposefully  to  systematize  the  method  of  stating  the 
problem,  and  then  giving  in  order  the  authorities  on  one  side 
and  the  other — sic  et  non  ;  as  he  entitled  his  famous  work. 
But  the  trail  of  his  nature  lay  through  this  apparently 
innocent  composition,  the  evident  intent  of  which  was  to 
emphasize,  if  not  exaggerate,  the  opposition  among  the 
patristic  authorities,  and  without  a  counterbalancing  attempt 
to  show  any  substantial  accord  among  them.  This,  of 
course,  is  not  stated  in  the  Prologue,  which  however,  like 
everything  that  Abaelard  wrote,  discloses  his  fatal  facility 
of  putting  his  hand  on  the  raw  spot  in  the  matter  ;  which 
unfortunately  is  likely  to  be  the  vulnerable  point  also.  In 
it  he  remarks  on  the  difficulty  of  interpreting  Scripture, 
upon  the  corruption  of  the  text  (a  perilous  subject),  and  the 

1  Introdttctio  ad  theologiant,  lib.  ii.  (Migne  178,  col.  1039). 


CHAP,  xxxiv   METHODS  OF  SCHOLASTICISM          305 

introduction  of  apocryphal  writings.  There  are  discrepancies 
even  in  the  sacred  texts,  and  contradictions  in  the  writings 
of  the  Fathers.  With  a  profuse  backing  of  authority  he 
shows  that  the  latter  are  not  to  be  read  cum  credendi 
necessitate,  but  cum  judicandi  libertate.  Assuredly,  as  to 
anything  in  the  canonical  Scriptures,  "  it  is  not  permitted  to 
say  :  '  The  Author  of  this  book  did  not  hold  the  truth ' ;  but 
rather  '  the  codex  is  false  or  the  interpreter  errs,  or  thou 
dost  not  understand.'  But  in  the  works  of  the  later  ones 
(postenontm,  Abaelard's  inclusive  designation  of  the  Fathers), 
which  are  contained  in  books  without  number,  if  passages 
are  deemed  to  depart  from  the  truth,  the  reader  is  at  liberty 
to  approve  or  disapprove." 

This  view  was  supported  by  Abaelard's  citations  from 
the  Fathers  themselves  ;  and  yet,  so  abruptly  made,  it  was 
not  a  pleasant  statement  for  the  ears  of  those  to  whom  the 
writings  of  the  holy  Fathers  were  sacred.  Nothing  was 
sacred  to  the  man  who  wrote  this  prologue — so  it  seemed  to 
his  pious  contemporaries.  And  who  among  them  could 
approve  of  the  Prologue's  final  utterance  upon  the  method 
and  purpose  of  the  book  ? 

"  Wherefore  we  decided  to  collect  the  diverse  statements  of  the 
holy  Fathers,  as  they  might  occur  to  our  memory,  thus  raising  an 
issue  from  their  apparent  repugnancy,  which  might  incite  the 
teneros  lectores  to  search  out  the  truth  of  the  matter,  and  render 
them  the  sharper  for  the  investigation.  For  the  first  key  to 
wisdom  is  called  interrogation,  diligent  and  unceasing.  ...  By 
doubting  we  are  led  to  inquiry  ;  and  from  inquiry  we  perceive  the 
truth." 

To  use  the  discordant  statements  of  the  Fathers  to 
sharpen  the  wits  of  the  young  !  Was  not  that  to  uncover 
their  shame  ?  And  the  character  of  the  work  did  not 
salve  the  Prologue's  sting.  Abaelard  selected  and  arranged 
his  extracts  from  pagan  as  well  as  Christian  writers,  and 
prepared  sardonic  titles  for  the  questions  under  which  he 
ordered  his  material.  Time  and  again  these  titles  flaunt  an 
opposition  which  the  citations  scarcely  bear  out.  For 
example,  title  iv. :  "  Quod  sit  credendum  in  Deum  solum,  et 
contra  " — certainly  a  flaming  point ;  yet  the  excerpts  display 
merely  the  verb  credere,  used  in  the  palpably  different  senses 
VOL.  II  X 


306  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

borne  by  the  word  "  believe."  There  is  no  real  repugnancy 
among  the  citations.  And  again,  in  title  Iviii. :  "  Quod 
Adam  salvatus  sit,  et  contra" — there  is  no  citation  contra. 
And  the  longest  chapter  in  the  book  (cxvii.)  has  this 
bristling  title  :  "  De  sacramento  altaris,  quod  sit  essentialiter 
ipsa  veritas  carnis  Christi  et  sanguinis,  et  contra." 

Because  of  such  prickly  traits  the  Sic  et  non  did  not 
itself  come  into  common  use.  But  the  suggestions  of  its 
method  once  made,  were  of  too  obvious  utility  to  be 
abandoned.  First,  among  Abaelard's  own  pupils  the  result 
appears  in  Books  of  Sentences,  which,  in  the  arrangement  of 
their  matter,  followed  the  topical  division  not  of  the  Sic  et 
non,  but  of  Abaelard's  TJieologia,  with  its  threefold  division 
of  Theology  into  Fides,  Caritas,  and  Sacramenttim.1  But  the 
arrangement  of  the  J*lieologia  was  not  made  use  of  in  the 
best  and  most  famous  of  these  compositions,  Peter  Lom- 
bard's Sententiarum  libri  quatuor.  This  work  employed  the 
method  (not  the  arrangement)  of  the  Sic  et  non,  and 
expounded  the  contents  of  Faith  methodically,  "  Distinctio  " 
after  "  Distinctio,"  stating  the  proposition,  citing  the 
authorities  bearing  upon  it,  and  ending  with  some  con- 
ciliating or  distinguishing  statement  of  the  true  result  In 
canon  law  the  same  method  was  applied  in  Gratian's 
Decretum,  of  which  the  proper  name  was  Concordia 
discordantium  canonum. 

These  Books  of  Sentences  have  sometimes  been  called 
Sumtnae,  inasmuch  as  their  scope  embraced  the  entire 
contents  of  the  Faith.  But  the  term  Summa  may  properly 
be  confined  to  those  larger  and  still  more  encyclopaedic 
compositions  in  which  this  scholastic  method  reached  its 
final  development.  The  chief  makers  of  these,  the  veritable 
Summae  tlieologiae,  were,  in  order  of  time,  Alexander  of 
Hales,  Albertus  Magnus,  and  Thomas  Aquinas.  The  Books 
of  Sentences  were  books  of  sentences.  The  Summa  pro- 
ceeded by  the  same  method,  or  rather  issued  from  it, 
as  its  consummation  and  perfect  logical  form ;  thus  the 

1  See  Denifle,  "  Die  Sentenzen  Abaelard's  und  die  Bearbeitungen  seiner 
Theologia,"  Archiv  fur  Literatur  und  Kirchengcschichte,  i.  p.  402  sqq.  and  p. 
584  sqq.  Also  Picavet,  "  Abelard  et  Alexander  de  Hales,  createurs  de  la 
methode  scholastique/'  Bib.  de  Ftcole  dts  hautes  etudes,  sciences  religieuses,  t. 
vii.  p.  221  sqq. 


CHAP,  xxxiv  METHODS  OF  SCHOLASTICISM          307 

scholastic  method  arrived  at  its  highest  constructive  energy. 
In  the  Sentences  one  excerpted  opinion  was  given  and 
another  possibly  divergent,  and  at  the  end  an  adjustment 
was  presented.  This  comparative  formlessness  attains  in  the 
Summa  a  serried  syllogistic  structure.  Thomas,  who  finally 
perfects  it,  presents  his  connected  and  successive  topics 
divided  into  quaestiones,  which  are  subdivided  into  articuli, 
whose  titles  give  the  point  to  be  discussed.  He  states  first, 
and  frequently  in  his  own  syllogistic  terms,  the  successive 
negative  arguments;  and  then  the  counter -proposition, 
which  usually  is  a  citation  from  Scripture  or  from  Augustine. 
Then  with  clear  logic  he  constructs  the  true  positive  conclusion 
in  accordance  with  the  authority  which  he  has  last  adduced. 
He  then  refutes  each  of  the  adverse  arguments  in  turn. 

Thus  the  method  of  the  Sentences  is  rendered  dialectic- 
ally  organic  ;  and  with  the  perfecting  of  the  form  of  quaestio 
and  articulus,  and  the  logical  linking  of  successive  topics, 
the  whole  composition,  from  a  congeries,  becomes  a  structure, 
organic  likewise,  a  veritable  Summa,  and  a  Summa  of  a 
science  which  has  unity  and  consistency.  This  science  is 
sacra  doctrina,  tJteologia.  Moreover,  as  compared  with  the 
Sentences,  the  contents  of  the  Summa  are  enormously  enlarged. 
For  between  the  time  of  the  Lombard  and  that  of 
Thomas,  there  has  come  the  whole  of  Aristotle,  and  what  is 
more,  the  mastery  of  the  whole  of  Aristotle,  which  Thomas 
incorporates  in  a  complete  and  organic  statement  of  the 
Christian  scheme  of  salvation.1 


1  Two  extracts,  one  from  the  Sentences  and  one  from  the  Summa,  touching 
the  same  matter,  will  illustrate  the  stage  in  the  scholastic  process  reached  by 
Peter  Lombard,  about  the  year  1150,  and  that  attained  by  Thomas  Aquinas  a 
hundred  years  later. 

The  Lombard's  Four  Books  of  Sentences  are  divided  into  Distinctiones,  with 
sub-titles  to  the  latter.  Distinctio  xlvi.  of  the  first  Book  l>ears  the  general  title : 
"The  opinion  (sententia)  declaring  that  the  will  of  God  which  is  himself,  cannot 
be  frustrated,  seems  to  be  opposed  by  some  opinions."  The  first  subdivision  of 
the  text  begins :  "  Here  the  question  rises.  For  it  is  said  by  the  authorities 
above  adduced  [the  preceding  Distinctio  had  discussed  "  The  will  of  God  which 
is  His  essence,  one  and  eternal "]  that  the  will  of  God,  which  is  himself,  and  is 
called  His  good  pleasure  (betieplacitnm)  cannot  te  frustrated,  because  by  that 
will  fecit  qttaecumque  voluit  in  caelo  el  in  terra,  which — witness  the  Apostle — 
nihil  resistit.  [I  leave  the  Scriptural  quotations  in  Latin,  so  as  to  mark  them.] 
It  is  queried,  therefore,  how  one  should  understand  what  the  Apostle  says 
concerning  the  Lord,  I  Tim.  2  :  Qui  vult  omnes  homines  salvos  fieri.  For  since 
all  are  not  saved,  but  many  are  damned,  that  which  God  wills  to  take  place. 


308  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

seems  not  to  take  place  (become,  fieri},  the  human  will  obstructing  the  will  of  God. 
The  Lord  also  in  the  Gospel  reproaching  the  wicked  city,  Matt,  xxiii.,  says  : 
Quoties  volui  congregare  filios  tuos,  sicut  gallina  congregat  pullos  sues  sub  alis,  et 
noluisti.  Thus  it  might  seem  from  these,  that  the  will  of  God  may  be  over- 
come by  the  will  of  men,  and,  resisted  by  the  unwillingness  of  the  weakest,  the 
Most  Strong  may  prove  unable  to  do  what  He  willed.  Where  then  is  that 
omnipotence  by  which  in  coelo  et  terra,  according  to  the  Prophet,  omnia  quae- 
cumque  voluit  fecit  ?  And  how  does  nothing  withstand  His  will,  if  He  wished 
to  gather  the  children  of  Jerusalem,  and  did  not?  For  these  sayings  seem 
indeed  to  oppose  what  has  been  stated." 

The  second  paragraph  proceeds  :  "  But  let  us  see  the  solution,  and  first  hear 
how  what  the  Lord  said  should  be  understood.  For  it  was  not  intended  to 
mean  (as  Augustine  says,  Enchiridion,  c.  97,  solving  this  question)  that  the  Lord 
wished  to  gather  the  children  of  Jerusalem,  and  did  not  do  what  He  willed 
because  she  would  not ;  but  rather  she  did  not  wish  her  children  to  be  gathered 
by  Him,  yet  in  spite  of  her  unwillingness  (qua  tamen  nolente)  He  gathered  all  He 
willed  of  her  children.  .  .  .  And  the  sense  is :  As  many  as  I  have  gathered  by 
my  will,  always  effective,  I  have  gathered,  thou  being  unwilling.  Hence  it  is 
evident  that  these  words  of  the  Lord  are  not  opposed  to  the  authorities 
referred  to." 

(Paragraph  3)  "Now  it  remains  to  see  how  the  aforesaid  words  do  not  con- 
tradict what  the  Apostle  said  of  the  Lord  :  Vult  omncs  homines  salvos  fieri. 
Because  of  these  words  many  have  wandered  from  the  truth,  saying  that  God  willed 
many  things  which  did  not  come  to  pass.  But  the  saying  is  not  thus  to  be, 
understood,  as  if  God  willed  any  to  be  saved,  and  they  were  not.  For  who  can 
be  so  impiously  foolish  as  to  say  that  God  cannot  change  the  evil  wills  of  men  to 
good  when  and  where  He  will?  Surely  what  is  said  in  Psalm  113,  Quaecumque 
voluit  fecit,  is  not  true,  if  He  willed  anything  and  did  not  accomplish  it.  Or, — 
(and  this  is  still  more  shameful)  for  that  reason  He  did  not  do  it,  because  what 
the  Omnipotent  willed  to  come  to  pass,  the  will  of  man  obstructed.  Hence  when 
we  read  in  Holy  Scripture  velit  omnes  homines  salvos  fieri,  we  should  not  detract 
from  the  will  of  omnipotent  God,  but  understand  the  text  to  mean  that  no  man 
is  saved  except  whom  He  wills  to  be  saved  :  not  that  there  is  no  man  whom 
He  does  not  will  to  be  saved,  but  that  no  man  may  be  saved  except  whom  He 
wills  should  be  saved.  .  .  .  Thus  also  is  to  be  understood  the  text  from  John  i.  : 
Illuminat  omnem  hominem  venientem  in  hunc  mundum  ;  not  as  if  there  is  no 
man  who  is  not  lighted,  but  that  none  is  lighted  save  from  Him.  ..." 

The  next  and  fourth  paragraph  takes  up  the  problem  whether  evil,  that  is  sin, 
takes  place  by  the  will  of  God,  or  He  unwilling  (eo  nolente).  "As  to  this,  divers 
men  thinking  diversely  have  been  found  in  contradiction.  For  some  say  that 
God  wills  evils  to  be  or  become  (esse  vel fieri)  yet  does  not  will  evils.  But  others 
say  that  He  neither  wills  evils  to  be  nor  to  become.  Yet  these  and  those  agree  in 
declaring  that  God  does  not  will  evils.  Yet  each  with  arguments  as  well  as 
authorities  strives  to  make  good  his  assertion. "  We  will  not  follow  the  Lombard 
through  this  thorny  problem.  He  cuts  his  way  with  passages  from  his  chief 
patristic  authority,  Augustine,  and  in  the  end  concludes :  "  Leaving  this  and 
other  like  foolish  opinions,  and  favouring  the  sounder  view,  which  is  more  fully 
sanctioned  by  the  testimonies  of  the  Saints,  we  may  say  that  God  neither  wills 
evils  to  become,  nor  wills  that  they  should  not  become,  nor  yet  is  He  unwilling 
(nolle')  that  they  should  become.  All  that  He  wills  to  become,  becomes,  and  all 
that  He  wills  not  to  become  does  not  become.  Yet  many  things  become  which 
He  does  not  will  to  become,  as  every  evil." 

Thus  the  Lombard.  Now  let  us  see  how  Thomas,  in  his  Summa  theologiae, 
Pars  Prima,  Quaestio  xix.  Articulus  ix.  expounds  the  point :  utrum  voluntas  Dei 
sit  malorum. 

"  As  to  the  ninth  articulus  thus  one  proceeds.  (I)  It  seems  \Videtur,  formula 
for  stating  the  initial  argument  which  will  not  be  approved]  that  the  will  of  God 


CHAP,  xxxiv  METHODS  OF  SCHOLASTICISM          309 

is  [the  cause]  of  evils.  For  God  wills  every  good  that  becomes  (i.e.  comes  into 
existence).  But  it  is  good  that  evils  should  come ;  for  Augustine  says  in  the 
Enchiridion  :  '  Although  those  things  which  are  evils,  in  so  far  as  they  are 
evils,  are  not  goods ;  yet  it  is  good  (bonum)  that  there  should  be  not  only 
goods  (bona)  but  evils.'  Therefore  God  wills  evils." 

"  (2)  Moreover  [Praeterea,  Thomas's  regular  formula  for  introducing  the 
succeeding  arguments,  which  he  will  not  approve]  Dionysius  says,  iv.  cap.  de 
divinis  nominibus  :  '  There  will  be  evil  making  for  the  perfection  of  the 
whole.'  And  Augustine  says  in  the  Enchiridion  :  '  Out  of  all  (things)  the 
admirable  beauty  of  the  universe  arises  ;  wherein  even  that  which  is  called  evil, 
well  ordered  and  set  in  its  place,  commends  the  good  more  highly  ;  since  the 
good  pleases  more,  and  is  the  more  praiseworthy,  when  compared  with  evil.' 
But  God  wills  everything  that  pertains  to  the  perfection  and  grace  of  the 
universe ;  since  this  is  what  God  chiefly  wills  in  His  creation.  Therefore  God 
wills  evils." 

"(3)  Moreover,  the  occurrence  and  non-occurrence  of  evils  (mala  fieri,  et 
non  fieri)  are  contradictory  opposites.  But  God  does  not  will  evils  not  to 
occur ;  because  since  some  evils  do  occur,  the  will  of  God  would  not  be 
fulfilled.  Therefore  God  wills  evils  to  occur." 

"  Sed  contra  est  [Thomas's  formula  for  stating  the  opinion  which  he  will 
approve]  what  Augustine  says  in  his  book  of  Eighty  -  three  Questions :  '  No 
wise  man  is  the  author  of  man's  deterioration  ;  yet  God  is  more  excellent  than 
any  wise  man  ;  much  less  then,  is  God  the  author  of  any  one's  deterioration. 
But  He  is  said  to  be  the  author  when  He  is  spoken  of  as  willing  anything. 
Therefore  man  becomes  worse,  God  not  willing  it.  But  with  every  evil, 
something  becomes  worse.  Therefore  God  does  not  will  evils.' " 

"  Respondeo  dicendum  quod  [Thomas's  formula  for  commencing  his 
elucidation]  since  the  reason  (or  ground  or  cause,  ratio)  of  the  good  is  likewise 
the  reason  of  the  desirable  (as  discussed  previously),  evil  is  opposed  to  good  :  it 
is  impossible  that  any  evil,  as  evil,  should  be  desired,  either  by  the  natural 
appetite  or  the  animal,  or  the  intellectual,  which  is  will.  But  some  evil  may 
be  desired  per  accidens,  in  so  far  as  it  conduces  to  some  good.  And  this  is 
apparent  in  any  appetite.  For  the  natural  impulse  (agens  naturale)  does  not  aim 
at  privation  or  destruction  (corruptio) ;  but  at  form,  to  which  the  privation  of 
another  form  may  be  joined  (i.e.  needed,  conjungitur) ;  and  at  the  generation  of 
one,  which  is  the  destruction  of  another.  Thus  a  lion,  killing  a  stag,  aims  at 
food,  to  which  is  joined  the  killing  of  an  animal.  Likewise  the  fornicator  aims 
at  enjoyment,  to  which  is  joined  the  deformity  of  guilt. 

"Thus  evil  which  is  joined  to  some  good,  is  privation  of  another  good. 
Never,  therefore,  is  evil  desired,  not  even  per  accidens,  unless  the  good  to  which 
the  evil  is  joined  appears  greater  than  the  good  which  is  annulled  through  the 
evil.  But  God  wills  no  good  more  than  His  goodness  ;  yet  He  wills  some  one 
good  more  than  some  other  good.  Hence  the  evil  of  guilt,  which  destroys 
relationship  to  divine  good  (quod privat  ordinem  ad  bonum  divinum),  God  in  no 
way  wills.  But  the  evil  of  natural  defect,  or  the  evil  of  penalty,  He  wills  in 
willing  some  good  to  which  such  evil  is  joined  ;  as,  in  willing  righteousness  He 
wills  penalty ;  and  in  willing  that  the  order  of  nature  be  preserved,  He  wills 
certain  natural  corruptions. 

"  Ad  primum  ergo  dicendtim  [Thomas's  formula  for  commencing  his  reply  to 
the  first  false  argument]  that  certain  ones  have  said  that  although  God  does  not 
will  evils,  He  wills  evils  to  be  or  become  :  because,  although  evils  are  not 
goods,  yet  it  is  good  that  evils  should  be  or  become.  They  said  this  for  the 
reason  that  those  things  which  are  evil  in  themselves,  are  ordained  for  some 
good  ;  and  they  deemed  this  ordainment  involved  in  saying  mala  esse  vel  Juri. 
But  that  is  not  said  rightly.  Because  evil  is  not  ordained  for  good  per  se  but  per 
accidens.  For  it  is  beyond  the  sinner's  intent,  that  good  should  come  of  it ;  just 
as  it  was  beyond  the  intent  of  the  tyrants  that  from  their  persecutions  the 


310  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

patience  of  the  martyrs  should  shine  forth.  And  therefore  it  cannot  be  said  that 
such  ordainment  for  good  is  involved  in  saying  that  it  is  good  for  evil  to  be  or 
become  :  because  nothing  is  adjudged  according  to  what  pertains  to  \\.  per  accidens 
but  according  to  what  pertains  to  it  per  se." 

"  Ad  secundum  dicendum  that  evil  is  not  wrought  for  the  perfection  or 
beauty  of  the  whole  except  per  accidens,  as  has  been  shown.  Hence  this  which 
Dionysius  says  that  evil  makes  for  the  perfection  of  the  whole  may  lead  to  an 
illogical  conclusion." 

"  Ad  tertiu m  dicendum  that  although  the  occurrence  and  non-occurrence  of 
evils  are  opposed  as  contradictories ;  yet  to  will  the  occurrence  and  to  will  the 
non-occurrence  of  evils,  are  not  opposed  as  contradictories,  since  both  one  and 
the  other  may  be  affirmative.  God  therefore  neither  wills  the  occurrence  nor  the 
non-occurrence  of  evils  ;  but  wills  to  permit  their  occurrence.  And  this  is  good." 


CHAPTER    XXXV 

CLASSIFICATION    OF    TOPICS  ;    STAGES   OF    EVOLUTION 

I.  PHILOSOPHIC  CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  SCIENCES  ;  THE  ARRANGE- 
MENT OF  VINCENT'S  ENCYCLOPAEDIA,  OF  THE  LOMBARD'S 
SENTENCES,  OF  AQUINAS'S  SUMMA  THEOLOGIAE. 
II.  THE   STAGES    OF    DEVELOPMENT:    GRAMMAR,    LOGIC,    META- 
LOGICS. 

I 

HAVING  considered  the  spirit,  the  field,  and  the  dual 
method,  of  mediaeval  thought,  there  remain  its  classifications 
of  topics.  The  problem  of  classification  presented  itself  to 
Gerbert  as  one  involved  in  the  rational  study  of  the  ancient 
material.1  But  as  scholasticism  culminated  in  the  twelfth 
and  thirteenth  centuries,  the  problem  became  one  of 
arrangement  and  presentation  of  the  mass  of  knowledge  and 
argument  which  the  Middle  Ages  had  at  length  made  their 
own,  and  were  prepared  to  re-express.  This  ordering  was 
influenced  by  a  twofold  principle  of  classification  ;  for,  as 
abundantly  shown  by  Aquinas,2  theology  in  which  all  is 
ordered  with  reference  to  God,  will  properly  follow  an 
arrangement  of  topics  quite  unsuitable  to  the  natural  or 
human  sciences,  which  treat  of  things  with  respect  to 
themselves.  But  the  mediaeval  practice  was  more  confused 
than  the  theory  ;  because  the  interest  in  human  knowledge 
was  apt  to  be  touched  by  motives  sounding  in  the  need  of 
divine  salvation  ;  and  speculation  could  not  free  itself  of  the 
moving  principles  of  Christian  theology.  On  the  other 
hand,  an  enormous  quantity  of  human  dialectic,  and  a 
prodigious  mass  of  what  strikes  us  as  profane  information,  or 

1  Ante,  Chapter  XII.  -  Ante,  pp.  289  sqq. 

3" 


312  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

misinformation,  was  carried  into  the  mediaeval  Summa,  and 
still  more  into  those  encyclopaedias,  which  attempted  to 
include  all  knowledge,  and  still  were  influenced  in  their  aim 
by  a  religious  purpose.1 

As  the  human  sciences  came  from  the  pagan  antique, 
the  accepted  classifications  of  them  naturally  were  taken 
from  Greek  philosophy.  They  followed  either  the  so-called 
Platonic  division,  into  Physics,  Ethics,  and  Logic,2  or  the 
Aristotelian  division  of  philosophy  into  theoretical  and 
practical.  The  former  scheme,  of  which  it  is  not  certain 
that  Plato  was  the  author,  passed  on  through  the  Stoic  and 
Epicurean  systems  of  philosophy,  was  recognized  by  the 
Church  Fathers,  and  received  Augustine's  approval.  It  was 
made  known  to  the  Middle  Ages  through  Cassiodorus, 
Isidore,  Alcuin,  Rabanus,  Eriugena  and  others. 

Nevertheless  the  Aristotelian  division  of  philosophy  into 
theoretical  and  practical  was  destined  to  prevail.  It  was 
introduced  to  the  western  Middle  Ages  through  Boethius's 
Commentary  on  Porphyry's  Isagogef  and  adopted  by 
Gerbert ;  later  it  passed  over  through  translations  of  Arabic 
writings.  It  was  accepted  by  Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  by 
Albertus  Magnus  and  by  Thomas,  to  mention  only  the 
greatest  names  ;  and  was  set  forth  in  detail  with  explanation 
and  comment  in  a  number  of  treatises,  such  as  Gundissalinus's 
De  divisione  philosophiae^  and  Hugo  of  St.  Victor's  Eruditio 
didascalica?  which  were  formal  and  schematic  introductions 
to  the  study  of  philosophy  and  its  various  branches. 

The  usual  subdivisions  of  these  two  general  parts  of 
philosophy  were  as  follows.  Theoretica  (or  Theorica)  was 
divided  into  (i)  Physics,  or  scientia  naturalis,  (2)  Mathematics, 
and  (3)  Metaphysics  or  Theology,  or  divina  scientiat  as  it 
might  be  called.  Physics  and  Mathematics  were  again 
divided  into  more  special  sciences.  Practica  was  divided 


1  The  Speculum  ma/us  of  Vincent  of   Beauvais   will   afford   the   principal 
example  of  the  resulting  hybrid  arrangement. 

2  Ludwig     Baur,     Dominuus     GundissaJinus,     De    divisione    philosophiac 
(Baeumker's  Bettrage,  Miinster,  1903),  p.  193  sqq.,  to  which  I  am  indebted  for 
what  I  have  to  say  in  the  next  few  pages. 

3  Migne,  Pat.  Lat.  64,  col.  IO  sqq, 

4  These   works   were   written    near   the    middle   of    the    twelfth    century. 
Gundissalinus  was  Archdeacon  of  Segovia  and  drew  upon  Arab  writings. 


CHAP,  xxxv     CLASSIFICATION  OF  TOPICS  313 

commonly  into  Ethics,  Economics,  Politics,  or  into  Ethics 
and  Artes  mechanicae.  There  was  a  difference  of  opinion  as 
to  what  to  do  with  Logic.  It  had,  to  be  sure,  its  position  in 
the  current  Trivium,  along  with  grammar  and  rhetoric.  But 
this  was  merely  current,  and  might  not  approve  itself  on 
deeper  reflection.  Gundissalinus  speaks  of  three  propaedeutic 
sciences,  the  scientiae  eloquentiae,  grammar,  poetics,  and 
rhetoric,  and  then  puts  Logic  after  them  as  a  sdentia  media 
between  these  primary  educational  matters  and  philosophy, 
i.e.  the  whole  range  of  knowledge,  theoretical  and  practical. 
Again,  over  against  philosophia  realis,  which  contains  both  the 
theoretica  (or  speculative?)  and  the  practica,  Thomas  Aquinas 
sets  \.\\Q  philosophia  rationalis,  or  logic;  and  Richard  Kilwardby 
opposes  logica,  the  sdentia  rationalis,  to  practica,  in  his 
division.1 

The  last-named  philosopher  was  the  pupil  and  then  the 
hostile  critic  of  Aquinas,  and  also  became  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  He  was  the  author  of  a  careful  and  elaborate 
classification  of  the  parts  of  philosophy,  entitled  De  ortu  et 
divisione  philosophiae?  In  it,  following  the  broad  distinction 
between  res  divinae  and  res  humanae,  Kilwardby  divides 
philosophy  into  speculativa  and  practica.  Speculativa  is 
divided  into  naturalis  (physics),  mathematica,  and  divina 
(metaphysics).  He  does  not  divide  the  first  and  third  of 
these  ;  but  he  divides  mathematica  into  those  sciences  which 
treat  of  quantity  in  continuity  and  separation  respectively 
(quantitas  continua  and  quantitas  discreta).  The  former 
embrace  geometry,  astronomy  and  astrology,  and  perspective  ; 
the  latter,  music  and  arithmetic.  Practica,  which  is  concerned 
with  res  humanae,  is  divided  into  activa  and  sermodnalis  : 
because  res  humanae  consist  either  of  operationes  or  locutiones. 
The  activa  embraces  Ethics  and  mechanics ;  the  sdentia 
sermodnalis  embraces  grammar,  logic,  and  rhetoric.  Such 
are  Kilwardby's  bare  captions  ;  his  treatise  lengthily  treats 
of  the  interrelations  of  these  various  branches  of  knowledge. 

An  idea  of  the  scholastic  discussion  of  the  classification 
of  sciences  may  be  had  by  following  Albertus  Magnus's 

1  See  L.  Baur,  Gundissalinus,  etc.,  p.  376  sqq. 

2  The  treatise  is  not  printed.      Its  captions  are  given  by  L.   Baur  in  his 
Gundissalinus,  pp.  368-375,  from  which  I  have  borrowed  what  I  give  of  them. 


314  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

ponderous  approach  to  a  consideration  of  logic :  whether  it 
be  a  science,  and,  if  so,  what  place  should  be  allotted  it. 
We  draw  from  the  opening  of  his  liber  on  the  Predicablesf 
that  is  to  say,  his  exposition  of  Porphyry's  Introduction. 
Albert  will  consider  "  what  kind  of  a  science  (qualis  scientia) 
logic  may  be,  and  whether  it  is  any  part  of  philosophy  ;  what 
need  there  is  of  it,  and  what  may  be  its  use  ;  then  of  what 
it  treats,  and  what  are  its  divisions."  The  ancients  seem 
to  have  disagreed,  some  saying  that  logic  is  no  science,  since 
it  is  rather  a  modus  (mode,  manner  or  method)  of  every 
science  or  branch  of  knowledge.  But  these,  continues 
Albertus,  have  not  reflected  that  although  there  are  many 
sciences,  and  each  has  its  special  modus,  yet  there  is  one 
modus  common  to  all  sciences,  pertaining  to  that  which  is 
common  to  them  all :  the  principle,  to  wit,  that  through 
reason's  inquiry,  from  what  is  known  one  arrives  at  know- 
ledge of  the  unknown.  This  mode  or  method  common 
to  every  science  may  be  considered  in  itself,  and  so  may 
be  the  subject  of  a  special  science.  After  further  balancing 
of  the  reasons  and  authorities  pro  and  con,  Albertus  con- 
cludes : 

"  It  is  therefore  clear  that  logic  is  a  special  science  just  as  in 
ironworking  there  is  the  special  art  of  making  a  hammer,  yet  its 
use  pertains  to  everything  made  by  the  ironworker's  craft.  So  this 
process  of  discovering  the  unknown  through  the  known,  is  something 
special,  and  may  be  studied  as  a  special  art  and  science ;  yet  the 
use  of  it  pertains  to  all  sciences." 

He  next  considers  whether  logic  is  a  part  of  philosophy. 
Some  say  no,  since  there  are  (as  they  say)  only  three  divisions 
of  philosophy,  physics,  mathematics,  and  metaphysics  ;  others 
say  that  logic  is  a  modus  of  philosophy  and  not  one  of  its 
divisions.  But,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  shown  by  others  that 
this  view  of  philosophy  omits  the  practical  side,  for 
philosophy's  scope  comprehends  the  truth  of  everything 
which  man  may  understand,  including  the  truth  of  that 
which  is  in  ourselves,  and  strives  to  comprehend  both  truth 

1  Liber  de  praedicabilibus  (tome  I  of  Albertus's  works),  which  in  scholastic 
logic  means  the  five  "  universals,"  genus,  species,  difference,  property,  accident, 
(also  called  the  quinque  voces)  discussed  in  Porphyry's  Introduction  to  the 
Categories.  The  Categories  themselves  are  called  praedicamenta. 


CHAP,  xxxv     CLASSIFICATION   OF  TOPICS  315 

and  the  process  of  advancing  from  the  known  to  a  knowledge 
of  the  unknown.  These  point  out  that 

"...  the  Peripatetics  divided  philosophy  first  into  three  parts,  to 
wit,  into  physicam  generaliter  dictam,  and  etJiicam  genera/iter  dictam 
and  rationale™  likewise  taken  broadly,  \ca\\physicageneralitcrdicta 
that  which  embraces  scientia  naturalis,  disciplinalis,  and  divina  (i.e. 
physics  in  a  narrower  sense,  mathematics  which  is  called  scientia 
disriplinalis,  and  metaphysics  which  is  scientia  divina).  And  I 
call  ethica,  that  which,  broadly  taken,  contains  the  scientia  monastica, 
oeconomica  and  civilis.  And  I  call  that  the  scientia  rationalis,  broadly 
taken,  which  includes  every  mode  of  proceeding  from  the  known 
to  the  unknown.  From  which  it  is  evident  that  logic  is  a  part  of 
philosophy." 

And  finally  it  may  be  shown  that 

"if  anything  is  within  the  scope  of  philosophy  it  must  be  that 
without  which  philosophy  cannot  reach  any  knowledge.  He  who  is 
ignorant  of  logic  can  acquire  no  perfect  cognition  of  the  unknown, 
because  he  is  ignorant  of  the  way  in  which  he  should  proceed  from 
the  known  to  the  unknown." 

From  these  latter  arguments,  approved  by  him  and  in 
part  stated  as  his  own,  Albertus  advances  to  a  classification 
of  the  parts  of  logic,  which  he  makes  to  include  rhetoric, 
poetics,  and  dialectic,  and  to  be  demonstrative,  sophistical  or 
disputatious,  according  to  the  use  to  which  logic  (broadly 
taken)  is  applied  and  the  manner  in  which  it  may  in  each 
case  proceed,  in  advancing  from  the  known  to  some  farther 
ascertainment  or  demonstration.1  Soon  after  this,  in  dis- 
cussing the  subject  of  this  science,  Albertus  points  out  how 
logic  differs  from  rhetoric  and  poetics,  although  with  them 
it  may  treat  of  sermo,  or  speech,  and  be  called  a  scientia 
sermonalis ;  for,  unlike  them,  it  treats  of  sermo  merely  as  a 
means  of  drawing  conclusions,  and  not  in  and  for  itself. 

From  the  purely  philosophical  division  of  the  sciences 
we  pass  to  the  hybrid  arrangement  adopted  by  Vincent  of 
Beauvais,  who  died  in  1264.  This  man  was  a  prodigious 
devourer  of  books,  and  for  a  sufficient  pabulum,  St.  Louis 
set  before  him  his  collection  of  twelve  hundred  volumes. 

1  The  above  gives  the  arguments  of  chapters  i.  nnd  ii.  of  the  work.  One 
notices  that  Albertus  in  this  exposition  of  the  subject  of  Porphyry's  treatise,  is 
using  the  method  which  Thomas  brings  to  syllogistic  perfection  in  his  Stimma. 


316  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

Thereupon  Vincent  compiled  the  most  famous  of  mediaeval 
encyclopaedias,  employing  in  that  labour  enormous  diligence 
and  a  number  of  assistants.  His  ponderous  Speculum  majus 
is  drawn  from  the  most  serviceable  sources,  including  the 
works  of  Albertus,  his  contemporary,  and  great  scholastics 
like  Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  who  were  no  more.  It  consisted 
of  the  Speculum  naturale^  doctrinale,  and  historiale ;  and 
a  fourth,  the  Speculum  morale,  was  added  by  a  later  hand.1 
Turning  its  leaves,  and  reading  snatches  here  and  there, 
especially  from  its  Prologues,  we  shall  gain  a  sufficient 
illustration  of  the  arrangement  of  topics  followed  by  this 
writer,  whose  faculties  seem  to  drown  in  his  shoreless 
undertaking.2 

In  his  turgid  generalis  prologus  to  the  Speculum  naturale, 
Vincent  presents  his  motives  for  collecting  in  one  volume 

"...  certain  flowers  according  to  my  modicum  of  faculty,  gathered 
from  every  one  I  have  been  able  to  read,  whether  of  our  Catholic 
Doctors  or  the  Gentile  philosophers  and  poets.  Especially  have  I 
drawn  from  them  what  seemed  to  pertain  either  to  the  building  up  of 
our  dogma,  or  to  moral  instruction,  or  to  the  incitement  of  charity's 
devotion,  or  to  the  mystic  exposition  of  divine  Scripture,  or  to  the 
manifest  or  symbolical  explanation  of  its  truth.  Thus  by  one 
grand  opus  I  would  appease  my  studiousness,  and  perchance,  by  my 
labours,  profit  those  who,  like  me,  try  to  read  as  many  books  as 
possible,  and  cull  their  flowers.  Indeed  of  making  many  books 
there  is  no  end,  and  neither  is  the  eye  of  the  curious  reader  satisfied, 
nor  the  ear  of  the  auditor." 

He  then  refers  to  the  evils  of  false  copying  and  the 
ascription  of  extracts  to  the  wrong  author.  And  it  seems  to 
him  that  Church  History  has  been  rather  neglected,  while 
men  have  been  intent  on  expounding  knotty  problems. 

1  It  was  printed,  more  than  once,  in  the  late  fifteenth  century  ;    the  most 
readable  edition  is  that  printed  at  Douai  in  1624,  in  four  huge  folios. 

2  Boundless  as  the  work  appears,  neither  in  mental  powers,  nor  learning,  nor 
in   massiveness   of  achievement,   is   its  author  to   be   compared   with   Albertus 
Magnus.     The  De  universe  of  Rabanus  Maurus,  Migne  in,  col.  9-612,  is  in 
its  arrangement  and  method  a  forerunner  of  Vincent's  Speculum.      Later  pre- 
decessors were  the  English  Franciscan  Bartolomaeus,  whose  encyclopaedic  De 
proprtetatibus  rerum  was  written  a  little  before  the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century 
(see  Felder,  Studien  in  Franciscanerorder,  etc.,  pp.  251-253);  and  Lambertus 
Audomarensis  (St.  Omer)  with  his  Liber  floridtts,  a  general  digest  of  knowledge, 
historical,  ecclesiastical,  and  natural,  taken  from  many  writers,  an  account  of  which 
is  given  in  Migne  163,  col.  1004  sqq. 


CHAP,  xxxv     CLASSIFICATION  OF  TOPICS  317 

And  now  considering  how  to  proceed  and  group  his  various 
matters,  Vincent  could  find  no  better  method  than  the  one 
he  has  chosen,  "  to  wit,  that  after  the  order  of  Holy  Scripture, 
I  should  treat  first  of  the  Creator,  next  of  the  creation,  then 
of  man's  fall  and  reparation,  and  then  of  events  (rebus 
gestis}  chronologically."  He  proposes  to  give  a  summary 
of  titles  at  the  end  of  the  work.  Sometimes  he  may  state 
as  his  own,  things  he  has  had  from  his  teachers  or  from  very 
well-known  books ;  and  he  admits  that  he  did  not  have  time 
to  collate  the  gesta  martyrum,  and  so  some  of  the  abstracts 
which  he  gives  of  these  are  not  by  his  own  hand,  but  by  the 
hand  of  scribes  (notariorunt). 

Vincent  proposes  to  call  the  whole  work  Speculum 
majus,  a  Speculum  indeed,  or  an  Imago  mundt,  "  containing 
in  brief  whatever,  from  unnumbered  books,  I  have  been  able 
to  gather,  worthy  of  consideration,  admiration,  or  imitation 
as  to  things  which  have  been  made  or  done  or  said  in  the 
visible  or  invisible  world  from  the  beginning  until  the  end,  and 
even  of  things  to  come"  He  briefly  adverts  to  the  utility  of 
his  work,  and  then  gives  his  motive  for  including  history. 
This  he  thinks  will  help  us  to  understand  the  story  of  Christ ; 
and  from  a  perusal  of  the  wars  which  took  place  "  before  the 
advent  of  our  pacific  King,  the  reader  will  perceive  with 
what  zeal  we  should  fight  against  our  spiritual  foes,  for  our 
salvation  and  the  eternal  glory  promised  us."  From  the 
great  slaughter  of  men  in  many  wars,  may  be  realized  also 
the  severity  of  God  against  the  wicked,  who  are  slain  like 
sheep,  and  perish  body  and  soul.1 

As  to  nature,  Vincent  says : 

"Moreover  I  have  diligently  described  the  nature  of  things, 
which,  I  think,  no  one  will  deem  useless,  who,  in  the  light  of  grace, 
has  read  of  the  power,  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God,  creator,  ruler 
and  preserver,  in  that  same  book  of  the  Creation  appointed  for  us 
to  read." 

Moreover,  to  know  about  things  is  useful  for  preachers 
and  theologians,  as  Augustine  says.  But  Vincent  is 
conscious  of  another  motive  also  : 

1  Here,  of  course,  we  have  the  hands  of  Esau,  but  the  voice  of  Augustine  and 
Orosius  ! 


3i8  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  VH 

"  Verily  how  great  is  even  the  humblest  beauty  of  this  world,  and 
how  pleasing  to  the  eye  of  reason  diligently  considering  not  only 
the  modes  and  numbers  and  orders  of  things,  so  decorously  appointed 
throughout  the  universe,  but  also  the  revolving  ages  which  are 
ceaselessly  uncoiled  through  abatements  and  successions,  and  are 
marked  by  the  death  of  what  is  born.  I  confess,  sinner  as  I  am, 
with  mind  befouled  in  flesh,  that  I  am  moved  with  spiritual  sweet- 
ness toward  the  creator  and  ruler  of  this  world,  and  honour  Him 
with  greater  veneration,  when  I  behold  at  once  the  magnitude,  and 
beauty  and  permanence  of  His  creation.  For  the  mind,  lifting  itself 
from  the  dunghill  of  its  affections,  and  rising,  as  it  is  able,  into  the 
light  of  speculation,  sees  as  from  a  height  the  greatness  of  the 
universe  containing  in  itself  infinite  places  filled  with  the  divers 
orders  of  creatures." 

Here  Vincent  feels  it  well  to  apologize  for  the  limitless- 
ness  of  his  matter,  being  only  an  excerptor,  and  not  really 
knowing  even  a  single  science  ;  and  he  refers  to  the  example 
of  Isidore's  Etymologiae.  He  proceeds  to  enumerate  the 
various  sources  upon  which  he  relies,  and  then  to  summarize 
the  headings  of  his  work  ;  which  in  brief  are  as  follows  : 

The  Creator. 

The  empyrean  heaven  and  the  nature  of  angels ;  the  state  of 
the  good,  and  the  ruin  of  the  proud,  angels. 

The  formless  material  and  the  making  of  the  world,  and  the 
nature  and  properties  of  each  created  being,  according  to  the  order 
of  the  Works  of  the  Six  Days. 

The  state  of  the  first  man. 

The  nature  and  energies  of  the  soul,  and  the  senses  and  parts 
of  the  human  body. 

God's  rest  and  way  of  working. 

The  state  of  the  first  man  and  the  felicity  of  Paradise. 

Man's  fall  and  punishment. 

Sin. 

The  reparation  of  the  Fall. 

The  properties  of  faith  and  other  virtues  in  order,  and  the  gifts 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  the  beatitudes. 

The  number  and  matter  of  all  the  sciences. 

Chronological  history  of  events  in  the  world,  and  memorable 
sayings,  from  tJu  beginning  to  our  time,  with  a  consideration  of  the 
state  of  souls  separated  from  their  bodies,  of  the  times  to  come,  of 
Antichrist,  the  end  of  the  World,  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  the 
glorification  of  the  saints  and  the  punishments  of  the  wicked 

One  may  stand  aghast  at  the  programme.     Yet  practi- 


CHAP,  xxxv     CLASSIFICATION  OF  TOPICS  319 

cally  all  of  it  would  go  into  a  Summa  theologiae,  excepting 
the  human  history,  and  the  matter  of  what  we  should  call 
the  arts  and  sciences !  A  programme  like  this  might  be 
handled  summarily,  according  to  the  broad  captions  under 
which  it  is  stated  ;  or  it  might  be  carried  out  in  such  detail 
as  to  include  all  available  information,  or  opinion,  touching 
every  part  of  every  topic  included  under  these  universal  heads. 
The  latter  is  Vincent's  way.  Practically  he  tries  to  include- 
all  knowledge  upon  everything.  The  first  of  his  tomes  (the 
Speculum  naturale]  is  to  be  devoted  to  a  full  description  of 
the  forms  and  species  of  created  beings,  which  make  up  the 
visible  world.  Yet  it  includes  much  relating  to  beings 
commonly  invisible  ;  for  Vincent  begins  with  a  treatment  of 
the  angels.  He  then  passes  to  a  consideration  of  the  seven 
heavens  ;  and  then  to  the  physical  phenomena  of  nature  ; 
then  on  to  every  known  species  of  plant,  the  cultivation  of 
trees  and  vines,  and  the  making  of  wine  ;  then  to  the  celestial 
bodies,  and  after  this  to  living  things,  birds,  fishes,  savage 
beasts,  reptiles,  the  anatomy  of  animals. — and  at  last  comes 
to  man.  He  discusses  him  body  and  soul,  his  psychology,  and 
the  phenomena  of  sleep  and  waking ;  then  human  anatomy 
— nor  can  he  keep  from  considerations  touching  the  whole 
creation  ;  then  human  generation,  and  a  description  of  the 
countries  and  regions  of  the  earth,  with  a  brief  compendium 
of  history  until  the  time  of  Antichrist  and  the  Last 
Judgment.  Of  course  he  is  utterly  uncritical,  even  the 
pseudo-Turpin's  fictions  as  to  Charlemagne  serving  him  for 
authority. 

Vincent's  Prologue  to  his  second  tome,  the  Speculum 
doctrinale,  briefly  mentions  the  topics  of  the  tota  naturalis 
historia,  contained  in  his  first  giant  tome.  In  that  he  had 
brought  his  matter  down  to  God's  creation  of  humana 
natura,  omnium  rerum  finis  ac  summa — and  its  spoliation 
(destitutid)  through  sin.  Humana  natura  as  constituted  by 
God,  was  a  universitas  of  all  nature  or  created  being, 
corporeal  and  spiritual.  Now 

"in  this  second  part,  in  like  fashion  we  propose  to  treat  of  the 
plenary  restitution  of  that  destitute  nature.  .  .  .  And  since  that 
restitution,  or  restoration,  is  effected  and  perfected  by  doctrina 
(imparted  knowledge,  science),  this  part  not  improperly  is  called 


320  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

the  Speculum  doctrinak.  For  of  a  surety  everything  pertaining  to 
recovering  or  defending  man's  spiritual  or  temporal  welfare  (salutem) 
is  embraced  under  doctrina.  In  this  book,  the  sciences  (doctrinae) 
and  arts  are  treated  thus :  First  concerning  all  of  them  in  general, 
to  wit,  concerning  their  invention,  origin,  and  species ;  and  concern- 
ing the  method  of  acquiring  them.  Then  concerning  the  singular 
arts  and  sciences  in  particular.  And  here  first  concerning  those  of 
the  Trivium,  which  are  devoted  to  language  (grammar,  rhetoric, 
logic) ;  for  without  these,  the  others  cannot  be  learned  or  communi- 
cated. Next  concerning  the  practical  ones  (practica),  because 
through  them,  the  eyes  of  the  mind  being  clarified,  one  ascends  to 
the  speculative  (theorica).  Then  also  concerning  the  mechanical 
ones  ;  since,  as  they  consist  in  making  (operatio\  they  are  joined  by 
affinity  to  the  practica.  Finally  concerning  the  speculative  sciences 
(theoricd),  because  the  end  and  aim  (finis)  of  all  the  rest  is  placed 
by  the  wise  in  them.  And  since  (as  Jerome  says)  one  cannot  know 
the  power  (vis)  of  the  antidote  unless  the  power  of  the  poison  first 
is  understood,  therefore  to  the  reparatio  doctrinalis  of  the  human 
race,  the  subject  of  the  book,  something  is  prefixed  as  a  brief 
epilogue  from  the  former  book,  concerning  the  fall  and  misery  of 
man,  in  which  he  still  labours,  as  the  penalty  for  his  sin,  in 
lamentable  exile." 

So  Vincent  begins  with  the  fall  and  misery  of  man  ; 
the  peccatmn  and  the  supplicium.  Then  he  proceeds  to 
discuss  the  goods  (bond)  which  God  bestows,  like  the  mental 
powers,  by  which  man  may  learn  wisdom,  and  how  to  strive 
against  error  and  vice,  and  be  overcome  solely  by  the  desire 
of  the  highest  and  immutable  good.  He  speaks  also  of  the 
corporeal  goods  bestowed  on  man,  and  the  beauty  and 
utility  of  visible  things  ;  and  then  of  the  principal  evils  ; — 
ignorance  which  corrupts  the  divine  image  in  man,  concupis- 
cence which  destroys  the  divine  similitude,  sickness  which 
destroys  his  original  bodily  immortality.  "  And  the  remedies 
are  three  by  which  these  three  evils  may  be  repelled,  and 
the  three  goods  restored,  to  wit,  Wisdom,  Virtue,  and  Need." 

Here  we  touch  the  gist  of  the  ordering  of  topics  in  the 
Speculum  doctrinale,  which  treats  of  all  the  arts  and 
sciences : 

"  For  the  obtaining  of  these  three  remedies  every  art  and  every 
disciplina  was  invented.  In  order  to  gain  Wisdom,  Theorica  was 
devised ;  and  Practica  for  the  sake  of  virtue ;  and  for  Need's  sake, 
Mechanica.  Theorica  driving  out  ignorance,  illuminates  Wisdom  ; 


CHAP,  xxxv     CLASSIFICATION  OF  TOPICS  321 

Pmctica  shutting  out  vice,  strengthens  Virtue ;  Mecfianica  providing 
against  penury,  tempers  the  infirmities  of  the  present  life.  Theoriea, 
in  all  that  is  and  that  is  not,  chooses  to  investigate  the  true. 
Practica  determines  the  correct  way  of  living  and  the  form  of 
discipline,  according  to  the  institution  of  the  virtues.  Alec/ianica 
occupied  with  fleeting  things,  strives  to  provide  for  the  needs  of  the 
body.  For  the  end  and  aim  of  all  human  actions  and  studies, 
which  reason  regulates,  ought  to  look  either  to  the  reparation  of  the 
integrity  of  our  nature  or  to  alleviating  the  needs  to  which  life  is 
subjected.  The  integrity  of  our  nature  is  repaired  by  Wisdom,  to 
which  Theorica  relates,  and  by  Virtue,  which  Practica  cultivates. 
Need  is  alleviated  by  the  administration  of  temporalities,  to  which 
Mechanica  attends.  Last  found  of  all  is  Logic,  source  of  eloquence, 
through  which  the  wise  who  understand  the  aforesaid  principal 
sciences  and  disciplines,  may  discourse  upon  them  more  correctly, 
truly  and  elegantly ;  more  correctly,  through  Grammar ;  more 
truly  through  Dialectic ;  more  elegantly  through  Rhetoric." * 

Thus  the  entire  round  of  arts  and  sciences  is  connected 
with  man's  corporeal  and  spiritual  welfare,  and  is  made  to 
bear  directly  or  indirectly  on  his  salvation.  All  constitutes 
doctrina,  and  by  doctrina  man  is  saved.  This  is  the  reason 
for  including  the  arts  and  sciences  in  one  tome,  rightly  called 
the  Speculum  doctrinale.  We  need  not  follow  the  detail,  but 
may  view  as  from  afar  the  long  course  ploughed  by  Vincent 
through  his  matter.  He  first  sketches  the  history  of  antique 
philosophy,  and  then  turns  to  books  and  language,  and 
presents  a  glossary  of  Latin  synonyms.  Book  II.  treats  of 
Grammar,  Book  III.  of  Logic,  Book  IV.  of  Practica  scientia 
or  Ethica,  first  giving  pagan  ethics  and  then  passing  on  to 
the  virtues  of  the  monastic  life.  Book  V.  is  a  continuation 
of  this  subject.  Book  VI.  concerns  the  Scientia  oeconomica, 
treating  of  domestic  economy,  then  of  agriculture.  Books 
VII.  and  VIII.  take  up  Politica,  and,  having  discussed 
political  institutions,  proceed  to  a  treatment  of  law — the  law 
of  persons,  things,  and  actions,  according  to  the  canon  and 
the  civil  law.  Books  IX.  and  X.  consider  Crimes — simony, 
heresy,  perjury,  sacrilege,  homicide,  rape,  adultery,  robbery, 
usury.  Book  XI.  is  more  cheerful,  De  arte  mechanics,  and 
tells  of  building,  the  military  art,  navigation,  alchemy,  and 
metals.  Book  XII.  is  Medicine,  and  Books  XIII.  and  XIV. 
discuss  Physics,  in  connection  with  the  healing  art.  Book 

1  The  above  is  from  cap.  9  of  liber  i.  of  the  Speculum  doctrinale. 
VOL.  II  Y 


322  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK™ 

XV.  is  Natural  Philosophy — animals  and  plants.  Book 
XVI.,  De  mathematica,  treats  of  arithmetic,  music,  geometry, 
astronomy,  and  metaphysics  cursorily.  Book  XVII.  likewise 
thins  out  in  a  somewhat  slight  discussion  of  Theology,  which 
was  to  form  the  topic  of  the  tome  that  Vincent  did  not 
write. 

But  Vincent  did  complete  another  tome,  the  Speculum 
historiale.  It  is  a  loosely  chronological  compilation  of 
tradition,  myth,  and  history,  with  discursions  upon  the 
literary  works  of  the  characters  coming  under  review.  It 
would  be  tedious  to  follow  its  excerpted  presentation  of 
the  profane  and  sacred  matter. 

We  may  leave  Vincent,  with  the  obvious  reflection  that 
his  work  is  a  conglomerate,  both  in  arrangement  and  contents. 
It  has  the  pious  aim  of  contributing  to  man's  salvation,  and 
yet  is  an  attempted  universal  encyclopaedia  of  human 
knowledge,  much  of  which  is  plainly  secular  and  mundane. 
The  monstrous  scope  and  dual  purpose  of  the  work  prevented 
any  unity  in  method  and  arrangement.  More  single  in  aim, 
and  better  arranged  in  consequence,  are  the  Sentences  of 
Peter  Lombard  and  the  Summa  theologiae  of  Aquinas.  For 
although  their  scope,  at  least  the  scope  of  the  Summa,  is 
wide,  all  is  ordered  with  respect  to  the  true  aim  of  sacra 
doctrina,  just  as  Thomas  explained  in  the  passage  which  we 
have  already  given. 

The  alleged  principle  of  the  Lombard's  division  strikes 
one  as  curious  ;  yet  he  got  it  from  Augustine  :  Signum  and 
res — the  symbol  and  the  thing :  verily  an  age-long  play  of 
spiritual  tendency  lay  back  of  these  contrasted  concepts. 
Christian  doctrina  related,  perhaps  chiefly,  to  the  significance 
of  signa,  signs,  symbols,  allegories,  mysteries,  sacraments. 
It  was  not  so  strange  that  the  Lombard  made  this  antithesis 
the  ground  of  his  arrangement.  Quite  as  of  course  he 
begins  by  saying  it  is  clear  to  any  one  who  considers,  with 
God's  grace,  that  the  "  contents  of  the  Old  and  New  Law 
are  occupied  either  with  res  or  signa.  For  as  the  eminent 
doctor  Augustine  says  in  his  Doctrina  Christiana,  all  teaching 
is  of  things  or  signs  ;  but  things  also  are  learned  through 
signs.  Properly  those  are  called  res  which  are  not  employed 
in  order  to  signify  something  ;  while  signa  are  those  whose 


CHAP,  xxxv     CLASSIFICATION  OF  TOPICS  323 

use  is  to  signify."  Then  the  Lombard  separates  the 
sacraments  from  other  signa,  because  they  not  only  signify, 
but  also  confer  saving  aid  ;  and  he  points  out  that  evidently 
a  signum  is  also  some  sort  of  a  thing  ;  but  not  everything  is 
a  signum.  He  will  treat  first  of  res  and  then  of  signa. 

As  to  res,  one  must  bear  in  mind,  as  Augustine  says, 
that  some  things  are  to  be  enjoyed  (fruendum\  as  from  love 
we  cleave  to  them  for  their  own  sake  ;  and  others  are  to  be 
used  (utendum)  as  a  means;  and  still  others  to  be  both 
enjoyed  and  used. 

"  Those  which  are  to  be  enjoyed  make  us  blessed  (bcatos) ; 
those  which  are  to  be  used,  aid  us  striving  for  blessedness.  .  .  .  We 
ourselves  are  the  things  which  are  both  to  be  enjoyed  and  used, 
and  also  the  angels  and  the  saints.  .  .  .  The  things  which  are  to 
be  enjoyed  are  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit ;  and  so  the  Trinity  is 
summa  res." 

So  the  Lombard's  first  two  Books  consider  res  in  the 
descending  order  of  their  excellence  ;  the  third  considers  the 
Incarnation,  which,  if  not  itself  a  sacrament,  and  the  chief  and 
sum  of  all  sacraments,  is  the  source  of  those  of  the  New  Law, 
considered  in  the  fourth  Book.  The  scheme  is  single  and 
orderly ;  the  difficulty  will  be  in  actually  arranging  the 
various  topics  within  it.  Endeavouring  to  do  so,  the 
Lombard  in  Book  I.  puts  together  the  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity,  the  three  Persons  composing  it,  and  their  attributes 
and  qualities.  Book  II.  considers  in  order,  the  Angels,  and 
very  briefly,  the  work  of  the  Six  Days  down  to  the  creation 
of  man  ;  then  the  Christian  doctrina  as  to  man  is  presented : 
his  creation  and  its  reasons  ;  the  creation  of  his  anima ;  the 
creation  of  woman  ;  the  condition  of  man  and  woman 
before  the  Fall  ;  their  sin  ;  next  free-will  and  grace.  Book 
III.  treats  of  the  Incarnation,  in  all  the  aspects  in  which  it 
may  be  known,  and  of  the  nature  of  Christ,  His  saving  merit, 
and  the  grace  which  was  in  Him ;  also  of  the  virtues  of 
faith,  hope,  and  charity,  the  seven  gifts  of  the  Spirit,  and  the 
existence  of  them  all  in  Christ.  Book  IV.  considers  the 
Sacraments  of  the  New  Law  :  Baptism,  Confirmation,  the 
Eucharist,  penance,  extreme  unction,  ordination  to  holy 
orders,  marriage.  It  concludes  with  setting  forth  the 
Resurrection  and  the  Last  Judgment. 


324  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  VH 

The  first  chapters  of  Genesis  were  the  ultimate  source  of 
the  Lombard's  actual  arrangement.  And  the  Summa  will 
follow  the  same  order  of  treatment.  One  may  perceive  how 
naturally  the  adoption  of  this  order  came  to  Christian 
theologians  by  glancing  over  Augustine's  De  Genesi  ad 
litteram.1  This  Commentary  was  partially  constructive,  and 
not  simply  exegetical  ;  and  afforded  a  cadre,  or  frame,  of 
topical  ordering,  which  could  readily  be  filled  out  with  the 
contents  of  the  Sentences  or  even  of  the  Summa :  God,  in 
His  unity  and  trinity,  the  Creation,  man  especially,  his  fall, 
the  Incarnation  as  the  saving  means  of  his  restoration,  and 
then  the  Sacraments,  and  the  final  Judgment  unto  heaven 
and  hell.  One  may  say  that  this  was  the  natural  and 
proper  order  of  presenting  the  contents  of  the  Christian 
sacra  doctrina. 

So  the  great  Summa  theologiae  of  Thomas  Aquinas 
adopts  the  same  order  which  the  Lombard  had  followed. 
The  Pars  prima  begins  with  defining  sacra  doctrina?  It 
then  proceeds  to  consider  God — whether  He  exists  ;  then 
treats  of  His  simplicitas  and  perfectio  ;  next  of  His  attributes  ; 
His  bonitas,  infinitas,  immutabilitas,  aeternitas,  unitas  ;  then 
of  our  knowledge  of  Him  ;  then  of  His  knowledge,  and 
therein  of  truth  and  falsity  ;  thereupon  are  considered  the 
divine  will,  love,  justice,  and  pity  ;  the  divine  providence 
and  predestination ;  the  divine  power  and  beatitude. 

All  this  pertains  to  the  unitas  of  the  divine  essence  ; 
and  now  Thomas  passes  on  to  the  Trinitas  personarum,  or 
the  more  distinctive  portions  of  Christian  theology.  He 
treats  of  the  processio  and  relationes  of  the  divinae  Personae, 
and  then  of  themselves — Father,  Son,  Holy  Spirit,  and 
then  of  their  essential  relationship  and  properties.  Next  he 
discusses  the  missio  of  the  divine  Persons,  and  the  relations 
between  God  and  His  Creation.  First  comes  the  consideration 
of  the  principle  of  creation,  the  processio  creaturarum  a  Deo, 
and  of  the  nature  of  created  things,  with  some  discussion  of 
evil,  whether  it  be  a  thing. 

Among  created  beings,  Thomas  treats  first  of  angels,  and 
at  great  length  ;  then  of  the  physical  creation,  in  its  order — 
the  work  of  the  six  days,  but  with  no  great  detail.  Then 

1  Migne,  Pat.  Lat.  34,  col.  246-485.  *  Ante,  p.  290. 


CHAP,  xxxv     CLASSIFICATION  OF  TOPICS  325 

man,  created  of  spiritual  and  corporeal  substance his 

complex  nature  is  to  be  analysed  and  fathomed  to  its 
depths.  Thomas  discusses  the  union  of  the  anima  ad  corpus  ; 
then  the  powers  of  the  anima,  in  generali  and  in  speciali — the 
intellectual  faculties,  the  appetites,  the  will  and  its  freedom 
of  choice  ;  how  the  anima  knows — the  full  Aristotelian  theory 
of  cognition  is  given.  Next,  more  specifically  as  to  the 
creation  of  the  soul  and  body  of  the  first  man,  and  the 
nature  of  the  image  and  similitude  of  God  within  him  ;  then 
as  to  man's  condition  and  faculties  while  in  a  state  of 
innocence  ;  also  as  to  Paradise. 

This  closes  the  treatment  of  the  creatio  et  distinctio 
rerum ;  and  Thomas  passes  to  their  gubernatio,  and  the 
problem  of  how  God  conserves  and  moves  the  corporeal 
and  spiritual  ;  then  concerning  the  action  of  one  creature 
on  another,  and  how  the  angels  are  ranged  in  hierarchies, 
and  although  purely  spiritual  beings,  minister  to  men  and 
guard  them  ;  then  concerning  the  action  of  corporeal  things, 
concerning  fate,  and  the  action  of  men  upon  men. 

Here  ends  Pars  prima.  The  first  section  of  the  second 
part  (Prima  secundae)  begins.  In  a  short  Prologue  Thomas 
says  : 

"  Because  man  is  made  in  the  image  of  God,  that  is,  free  in  his 
thought  and  will,  and  able  to  act  through  himself  (perse  potestativum), 
after  what  has  been  said  concerning  the  Exemplar,  God,  and  every- 
thing proceeding  from  the  divine  power  according  to  His  will,  it 
remains  for  us  to  consider  His  image,  to  wit,  man,  in  so  far  as  he  is 
the  source  or  cause  (prinripiwri)  of  his  own  works,  having  free-will 
and  power  over  them." 

Hereupon  Thomas  takes  up  in  order  :  the  ultimate  end 
of  man  ;  the  nature  of  man's  beatitude,  and  wherein  it  con- 
sists, and  how  it  may  be  attained  ;  then  voluntary  and 
involuntary  acts,  and  the  nature  and  action  of  will  ;  then 
fruition,  intention,  election,  deliberation,  consent,  and  actions 
good  and  bad,  flowing  from  the  will ;  then  the  passions  ; 
concupiscence  and  pleasure,  sadness,  hope  and  despair,  fear, 
anger ;  next  habits  (habitus)  and  the  virtues,  intellectual, 
cardinal,  theological ;  the  gifts  of  the  Spirit,  and  the 
beatitudes  ;  the  vices,  and  sin,  and  penalty.  Thereupon  it 
becomes  proper  to  consider  the  external  causes  (principid) 


326  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

of  acts  :  "  The  external  cause  (jprincipiuwi)  moving  toward 
good  is  God  ;  who  instructs  us  through  law,  and  aids  us 
through  grace.  Therefore  we  must  speak,  first  of  law,  then 
of  grace."  So  Thomas  discusses  :  the  essentia  of  law,  and 
the  different  kinds  of  law — lex  aeterna,  lex  naturalis,  lex 
kumana — their  effect  and  validity  ;  then  the  precepts  of  the 
Old  Law  (of  the  Old  Testament) ;  then  as  to  the  law  of  the 
Gospel  and  the  need  of  grace  ;  and  lastly,  concerning  grace 
and  human  merit. 

The  Secunda  secundae  (the  second  division  of  the  second 
part)  opens  with  a  Prologue,  in  which  the  author  says  that, 
having  considered  generally  the  virtues  and  vices,  and  other 
things  pertaining  to  the  matter  of  ethics,  it  is  needful  to 
consider  these  same  matters  more  particularly,  each  in  turn  ; 
"  for  general  moral  statements  (sermones  morales  universales) 
are  less  useful,  inasmuch  as  actions  are  always  in  particu- 
larzbus"  A  more  special  statement  of  moral  rules  may 
proceed  in  two  ways  :  the  one  from  the  side  of  the  moral 
material,  discussing  this  or  that  virtue  or  vice  ;  the  other 
considers  what  applies  to  special  orders  (speciales  status]  of 
men,  for  instance  prelates  and  the  lower  clergy,  or  men 
devoted  to  the  active  or  contemplative  religious  life.  "  We 
shall,  therefore,  consider  specially,  first  what  applies  to  all 
conditions  of  men,  and  then  what  applies  to  certain  orders 
(determinates  status)"  Thomas  adds  that  it  will  be  best  to 
consider  in  each  case  the  virtue  and  corresponding  gift,  and 
the  opposing  vice,  together  ;  also  that  "  virtues  are  reducible 
to  seven,  the  three  theological,1  and  the  four  cardinal  virtues. 
Of  the  intellectual  virtues,  one  is  Prudence,  which  is  numbered 
with  the  cardinal  virtues  ;  but  ars  does  not  pertain  to  morals, 
which  relate  to  what  is  to  be  done,  while  ars  is  the  correct 
faculty  of  making  things  (recta  ratio  factibilium)?'  The 
other  three  intellectual  virtues,  sapientia,  intellectus,  et  scientia, 
bear  the  names  of  certain  gifts  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  are 

1  The  three  theological  virtues  are  fides,  spes,  and  carifas.  They  are  called 
thus  because  Deum  habent  pro  objecto  ;  and  because  they  are  poured  (infitndun- 
tur)  into  us  by  God  alone.  They  are  distinguished  from  the  moral  and  intel- 
lectual virtues  because  their  object  surpasses  our  reason,  while  the  object  of  the 
moral  and  intellectual  virtues  can  be  comprehended  by  human  reason  (S«mma, 
Pars  prima  secundae,  Quaestio  Ixii. ,  Art.  I  -4). 

3  ?£«  Aterd  \6yov  dXr/floOs  Troiijrurf*  Arist.  Nick.  Efhits,  vi.  4. 


CHAP,  xxxv     CLASSIFICATION  OF  TOPICS  327 

considered  with  them.  Moral  virtues  are  all  reducible  to 
the  cardinal  virtues ;  and  therefore,  in  considering  each 
cardinal  virtue,  all  the  virtues  related  to  it  are  considered, 
and  the  opposite  vices." 

This  classification  of  the  virtues  seems  anything  but 
clear.  And  perhaps  the  weakest  feature  of  the  Summa  is 
this  scarcely  successful  ordering,  or  combination,  of  the 
Aristotelian  virtues  with  those  more  germane  to  the  Chris- 
tian scheme.  However  this  may  be,  the  author  of  the 
Summa  proceeds  to  consider  in  order :  fides,  and  the  gifts 
(dona)  of  intellectus  and  scienlia  which  correspond  to  the 
virtue  faith  ;  next  the  opposing  vices  :  infidelitas,  haeresis, 
aposiasia,  blasphemia,  and  caecitas  mentis  (spiritual  blindness). 
Next  in  order  come  the  virtue  spes,  and  the  corresponding 
gift  of  the  Spirit,  timor,  and  the  opposing  vices  of  desperatio 
and  praesumptio}  Next,  caritas,  with  its  dilectio,  its  gaudium, 
its  pax,  its  misericordia,  its  beneficentia  and  eleemosyna,  and 
its  correctio  fraterna  ;  then  the  opposite  vices,  odium,  acedia, 
invidia,  discordia,  contentio,  schisma,  bellum,  rixa,  seditio, 
scandalum.  Next  the  donum  sapientiae,  and  its  opposite, 
stultitia ;  next,  prudentia,  and  its  correspondent  gift,  con- 
silium  ;  and  its  connected  vices,  imprudentia,  negligentia,  and 
its  evil  semblances,  dolus  and  fraus. 

Says  Thomas  :  Consequenter  post  prudentiam  consideran- 
dum  est  de  Justitia.  Whereupon  follows  a  juristic  treat- 
ment otjus,justitia,judicium,  restitutio,  acceptio  personarum  ; 
then  homicide  and  other  crimes  recognized  by  law.  Then 
come  the  virtues,  connected  with  justitia,  to  wit,  religio,  and 
its  acts,  devotio,  oratio,  adoratio,  sacrificium,  oblatio,  decimae, 
votum,  juramentum ;  then  the  vices  opposed  to  religio : 
superstitio,  idolatria,  tentatio  Dei,  perjurium,  sacrilegium. 
simonia.  Next  is  considered  the  virtue  of  pietas ;  then 
observantia,  with  its  parts,  i.e.  dulia  (service),  obedientia,  and 
its  opposite,  inobedientia.  N&xt,  gratia  (thanks)  or  gratitude, 
and  its  opposite,  ingratitude  ;  next,  vindicatio  (punishment)  ; 
next,  veritas,  with  its  opposites,  hypocrisis,  jactantia  (boasting), 
and  ironia ;  next,  amicitia,  with  the  vices  of  adulatio  and 
litigium.  Next,  the  virtue  of  liberalitas,  and  its  vices, 

1  One  notes  that  these  two,  like  many  other  of  the  vices  enumerated,  are 
vices  in  that  they  are  extremes,  in  the  Aristotelian  sense. 


328  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

avaritia  and  prodigalitas  ;  next,  epieikeia  (aequitas).  Finally, 
closing  this  discussion  of  all  that  is  connected  with  Justitia, 
Thomas  speaks  of  its  corresponding  gift  of  the  Spirit,  pietas. 

Now  comes  the  third  cardinal  virtue,  Fortitude — under 
which  martyrium  is  the  type  of  virtuous  act ;  inttmiditas 
and  audacia  are  the  two  vices.  Then  the  parts  of  Fortitude, 
to  wit,  magnanimitas,  magnificentia,  patientia,  perseverantia, 
and  the  obvious  opposing  vices.  Next,  the  fourth  cardinal 
virtue,  Temperantia,  its  obvious  opposing  vices,  and  its  parts, 
to  wit,  verecundia,  honestas,  abstinentia,  sobrietas,  castitas, 
dementia,  modestia,  humilitas,  and  the  various  appropriate 
acts  and  opposing  vices  related  to  these  special  virtues. 

So  far,1  Thomas  has  been  considering  the  virtues  proper 
for  all  men  ;  and  now  he  comes  to  those  specially  pertaining 
to  certain  kinds  of  men,  according  to  their  gifts  of  grace, 
their  modes  of  life,  or  the  diversity  of  their  offices,  or 
stations.  Of  the  special  virtues  related  to  gifts  of  grace,  the 
first  is  prophetia,  next  raptus  (vision),  then  gratia  linguarum, 
and  gratia  miraculorum.  After  this,  the  vita  activa  and  con- 
templativa,  with  their  appropriate  virtues,  are  considered. 
And  then  Thomas  proceeds  to  speak  De  officiis  et  statibus 
hontinum,  and  their  respective  virtues. 

Here  ends  the  Secunda  secundae,  and  Pars  tertia  opens 
with  this  Prologue  : 

"Inasmuch  as  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  (as  witnesseth  the 
Angel,  populum  suum  salvum  faciens  a  peccatis  eoruni)  has  shown  in 
himself  the  way  of  truth,  through  which  we  are  able  to  come  to  the 
beatitude  of  immortal  life  by  rising  again,  it  is  necessary,  for  the 
consummation  of  the  whole  theological  matter,  after  the  considera- 
tion of  the  final  end  of  human  life,  and  of  the  virtues  and  vices, 
that  our  attention  should  be  fixed  upon  the  Saviour  of  all  and  His 
benefactions  to  the  human  race. 

"As  to  which,  first  one  must  consider  the  Saviour  himself; 
secondly,  His  sacraments,  by  which  we  obtain  salvation  ;  thirdly, 
concerning  the  end  (finis),  immortal  life,  to  which  we  come  by 
rising  again  through  Him. 

"  As  to  the  first,  one  has  to  consider  the  mystery  of  the  Incarna- 
tion, in  which  God  was  made  man  for  our  salvation,  and  then  those 
things  that  were  done  and  suffered  by  our  Saviour,  that  is,  God 
incarnate." 

1  We  are  at  Quaestio  clxxi.  of  Secunda  secundae. 


CHAP,  xxxv         STAGES  OF  EVOLUTION  329 

This  Prologue  indicates  sufficiently  the  order  of  topics  in 
the  Pars  tertia  of  the  Summa,  through  Quaestio  xc.,  at 
which  point  the  hand  of  the  Angelic  Doctor  was  folded  to 
eternal  rest.  He  was  then  considering  penance,  the  fourth 
in  his  order  of  Sacraments.  All  that  he  had  to  say  as  to 
the  person,  and  attributes,  and  acts  and  passion  of  Christ 
had  been  written  ;  and  he  had  considered  the  Sacraments  of 
baptism,  confirmation,  and  the  eucharist ;  he  was  occupied 
with  poenitentia ;  and  still  other  sacraments  remained,  as 
well  as  his  final  treatment  of  the  matters  which  lie  beyond 
the  grave.  So  he  left  his  work  unfinished,  and,  in  spite  of 
many  efforts,  unfinishable  by  any  of  his  pupils  or  successors.1 


II 

Inasmuch  as  the  matter  of  their  thoughts  was  trans- 
mitted to  the  men  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  was  not  drawn 
from  their  own  observation  or  constructive  reasoning,  the 
fundamental  intellectual  endeavour  for  mediaeval  men  was 
to  apprehend  and  make  their  own,  and  re-express.  Their 
intellectual  progress  followed  this  process  of  appropriation, 
and  falls  into  three  stages — learning,  organically  appro- 
priating, and  re-expressing  with  added  elements  of  thought. 
Logically,  and  generally  in  time,  these  three  stages  were 
successive.  Yet,  of  course,  they  overlapped,  and  may  be 
observed  progressing  simultaneously.  Thus,  for  example, 
what  was  known  of  Aristotle  at  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth 
century  was  slight  compared  with  the  knowledge  of  his 
philosophy  that  was  opened  to  western  Europe  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  twelfth  and  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth. 
And  while,  by  the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century,  the  elements 
of  Aristotle's  logic  had  been  thoroughly  appropriated,  the 
substantial  Aristotelian  philosophy  had  still  to  be  learned  and 
mastered,  before  it  could  be  reformulated  and  re-expressed 
as  part  of  mediaeval  thought. 

1  The  order  which  Thomas  would  have  followed  in  the  unfinished  conclusion 
of  his  Summa  theologiae,  may  be  inferred  from  the  order  of  the  last  half  of 
Book  IV.  of  his  Contra  Gentiles,  or  indeed  from  the  last  part  of  the  fourth  Book 
of  the  Lombard's  Sentences. 


330  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

Looking  solely  to  the  outer  form,  the  three  stages  of 
mediaeval  thought  are  exemplified  in  the  Scriptural  Com- 
mentary of  the  later  Carolingian  time,  in  the  twelfth-century 
Books  of  Sentences,  and  at  last  in  the  more  organic  Summa 
theologiae.  With  this  significant  evolution  and  change  of 
outer  form,  proceeded  the  more  substantial  evolution 
consisting  in  learning,  appropriating,  and  re-expressing  the 
inherited  material.  In  both  cases,  these  three  stages  were 
necessitated  by  the  greatness  of  the  transmitted  matter  ;  for 
the  intellectual  energies  of  the  mediaeval  period  were  fully 
occupied  with  mastering  the  data  proffered  so  pressingly, 
with  presenting  and  re-presenting  this  superabundant 
material,  and  recasting  it  in  new  forms  of  statement, 
which  were  also  expressions,  or  realizations,  of  the  mediaeval 
genius.  So  the  mediaeval  product  may  be  regarded  as 
given  by  the  past,  and  by  the  same  token  necessitated 
and  controlled.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  each  stage  of 
intellectual  progress  rendered  possible  the  next  one. 

The  first  stage  of  learning  is  represented  by  the 
Carolingian  period,  which  we  have  considered.  It  was  then 
that  the  patristic  material  was  extracted  from  the  writings 
of  the  Fathers,  and  rearranged  and  reapplied,  to  meet  the 
needs  of  the  time.  The  mastery  of  this  material  had 
scarcely  made  such  vital  progress  as  to  enable  the  men  of 
the  ninth  and  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries  to  re-express  it 
largely  in  terms  of  their  own  thinking.  In  the  ninth  century, 
Eriugena  affords  an  extraordinary  exception  with  his  drastic 
restatement  of  what  he  had  drawn  from  Pseudo-Dionysius 
and  others  ;  and  at  the  end  comes  Anselm,  whose  genius 
is  metaphysically  constructive.  But  Anselm  touches  the 
coming  time ;  and  the  springs  of  Eriugena's  genius  are 
hidden  from  us. 

As  for  the  antique  thought  during  these  Carolingian 
centuries,  Eriugena  dealt  in  his  masterful  way  with  what  he 
knew  of  it  through  patristic  and  semi-patristic  channels. 
But  let  us  rather  seek  it  in  the  curriculum  of  the  Trivium 
and  Quadrivium.  What  progress  Gerbert  made  in  the 
Quadrivium,  that  is,  in  the  various  branches  of  mathematics 
which  he  taught,  has  been  noted,  and  to  what  extent  his 
example  was  followed  by  his  pupil  Fulbert,  at  the  cathedral 


CHAP,  xxxv         STAGES  OF  EVOLUTION  331 

school  of  Chartres.1  The  courses  of  the  Trivium — grammar, 
rhetoric,  logic — demand  our  closer  attention  ;  for  they  were 
the  key  of  the  situation.  We  must  keep  in  mind  that  we 
are  approaching  mediaeval  thought  from  the  side  of  the  innate 
human  need  of  intellectual  expression — the  impulse  to  know 
and  the  need  to  formulate  one's  conceptions  and  express 
them  consistently.  For  mediaeval  men  the  first  indispensable 
means  to  this  end  was  grammar,  including  rhetoric,  and  the 
next  was  logic  or  dialectic.  The  Latin  language  contained 
the  sum  of  knowledge  transmitted  to  the  Middle  Ages. 
And  it  had  to  be  learned.  This  was  true  even  in  Italy  and 
Spain  and  France,  where  each  year  the  current  ways  of 
Romance  speech  were  departing  more  definitely  from  the 
parent  stock  ;  it  was  more  patently  true  in  the  countries  of 
Teutonic  speech.  Centuries  before,  the  Roman  youth  had 
studied  grammar  that  they  might  speak  and  write  correctly. 
Now  it  was  necessary  to  study  Latin  grammar,  to  wit,  the 
true  forms  and  literary  usages  of  the  Latin  tongue,  in  order 
to  acquire  any  branch  of  knowledge  whatsoever,  and  express 
one's  corresponding  thoughts.  And  men  would  not  at  first 
distinguish  sharply  between  the  mediating  value  of  the 
learned  tongue  and  the  learning  which  it  held.2 

Thus  grammar,  the  study  of  the  Latin  language, 
represented  the  first  stage  of  knowledge  for  mediaeval  men. 
This  was  to  remain  true  through  all  the  mediaeval  centuries  ; 
since  all  youths  who  became  scholars  had  to  learn  the 
language  before  they  could  study  what  was  contained  in  it 
alone.  One  may  also  say,  and  yet  not  speak  fantastically, 

1  Ante,  Chapter  XII. 

2  There  were,  of  course,  attempts  at  translation,  notably  those  of  Notker  the 
German  (see  ante,  Vol.  I.,  p.   308)  and  Alfred's  translation  of  Boethius's  De 
consolatione.      But  such  were  made  only  of  the  popular  parts  of  Scripture  (e.g. 
the  Psalms)  or  of  veiy  elementary  profane  treatises.     To  what  extent  Notker's 
translations  were  used,  is  hard  to  say.      But  at  all  events  any  one  really  seeking 
learning,  studied  and  worked  and  thought  in  the  medium  of  Latin  ;  for  the  hulk 
of  the  patristic  writings  never  were  translated  ;  and  when  the  works  of  Aristotle 
had  at  last  reached  the  Middle  Ages  in  the  Latin  tongue,  they  were  studied  in 
that  tongue.     Because  of  the  crudeness  of  the  vernacular  tongues,    the    Latin 
classics  were  even  more  untranslatable  in  the  tenth  or  eleventh  century  than  now. 

One  may  add,  that  it  was  fortunate  for  the  progress  of  mediaeval  learning 
that  Latin  was  the  one  language  used  by  all  scholars  in  all  countries.  This 
facilitated  the  diffusion  of  knowledge.  How  slow  and  painful  would  have  been 
that  diffusion  if  the  different  vernacular  tongues  had  been  used  in  their 
respective  countries,  for  serious  writing. 


332  THE  MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

that  grammar,  the  study  of  the  correct  use  of  the  language 
itself,  corresponded  spiritually  with  the  main  intellectual 
labour  of  the  Carolingian  period.  Alcuin's  attention  is 
commonly  fixed  upon  the  significance  of  language,  Latin  of 
course.  And  the  labours  of  his  pupil  Rabanus,  and  the 
latter's  pupil  Walafrid,  are  as  it  were  devoted  to  the 
grammar  of  learning.  That  is  to  say,  they  read  and 
endeavour  to  understand  the  works  of  the  Fathers ;  they 
compare  and  collate,  and  make  volumes  of  extracts,  which 
they  arrange  for  the  most  part  as  Scripture  commentaries  ; 
commentaries,  that  is,  upon  the  significance  of  the  canonical 
writings  which  were  the  substance  of  all  wisdom,  but  needed 
much  explication.  Such  works  were  the  very  grammar  of 
knowledge,  being  devoted  to  the  exposition  of  the  meaning 
of  the  Scriptures  and  the  vast  burden  of  patristic  thought. 
A  like  purpose  was  evinced  in  the  efforts  of  the  great 
emperor  himself  to  re-establish  schools  of  grammar,  in 
order  that  the  Scriptures  might  be  more  correctly  understood, 
and  the  expositions  of  the  holy  Fathers.  In  fine,  just  as 
knowledge  of  the  Latin  tongue  was  the  end  and  aim  of 
grammar,  so  a  correct  understanding  of  what  was  contained 
in  Latin  books  was  the  aim  of  the  intellectual  labours  of 
this  period.  It  all  represented  the  first  stage  in  the 
mediaeval  acquisition  of  knowledge,  or  in  the  presentation  or 
expression  of  the  same  ;  and  thus  the  first  stage  in  the 
mediaeval  endeavour  to  realize  the  human  impulse  to  know. 
The  next  course  of  the  Trivium  was  logic  ;  and  likewise 
its  study  will  represent  truly  the  second  stage  in  the 
mediaeval  realization  of  the  human  impulse  to  know,  to  wit, 
the  second  stage  in  the  appropriation  and  expression  of  the 
knowledge  transmitted  from  the  past.  We  have  spoken  at 
some  length  of  the  logical  studies  of  Gerbert,  and  his 
endeavours  to  adjust  his  thinking  and  classify  the  branches 
of  knowledge  by  means  of  formal  logic.1  Those  discussions 
of  his  which  seem  somewhat  puerile  to  us,  were  essential 
to  his  endeavours  to  formulate  what  he  had  learned,  and 
present  it  as  rational  and  ordered  knowledge.  Logic  is 
properly  the  stage  succeeding  grammar  in  the  formulation  of 
rational  knowledge.  At  least  it  was  for  men  of  Gerbert's 

1  Ante,  Chapter  XII.,  i. 


CHAP,  xxxv         STAGES  OF  EVOLUTION  333 

time,  and  the  following  centuries.  Rightly  enough  they 
looked  on  logic  as  a  scientia  sermotionalis,  which  on  one  side 
touched  sheer  linguistics,  and  on  the  other,  had  for  its  field 
the  further  processes  of  reason.  Thus  Hugo  of  St.  Victor, 
Abaelard's  very  great  contemporary,  says  : 

"  Logic  is  named  from  the  Greek  word  logos,  which  has  a  two- 
fold interpretation.  For  logos  means  either  sermo  or  ratio ;  and 
therefore  logic  may  be  termed  either  a  scientia  sermotionalis  or  a 
scientia  rationalis.  Logica  rationalis  embraces  dialectic  and  rhetoric, 
and  is  called  discretiva  (argumentative  and  exercising  judgment) ; 
logica  sermotionalis  is  the  genus  which  includes  grammar,  dialectic 
and  rhetoric,  to  wit,  discursive  science  (disertiva}."  * 

The  close  connection  between  grammar  and  logic  is 
evident.  Logic  treats  of  language  used  in  rational  expression, 
as  well  as  of  the  reasoning  processes  carried  on  in  language. 
Its  elementary  chapters  teach  a  rational  use  of  language, 
whereby  men  may  reach  a  more  deeply  consistent  expression 
of  their  thoughts  than  is  gained  from  grammar.  Yet 
grammar  also  is  logic,  and  based  on  logical  principles.  All 
this  is  exemplified  in  the  logical  treatises  composing  the 
Aristotelian  Organon,  whicli  the  Middle  Ages  used.  First 
comes  Porphyry's  Isagoge,  which  clearly  is  bound  up  in 
language.  Likewise  Aristotle's  Categories  treat  of  the  rational 
and  consistent  use  of  language,  or  of  what  may  be  stated  in 
language.  Next  it  is  obvious  that  the  De  interpretatione 
treats  of  language  used  to  express  thought,  its  generic 
function.  The  more  advanced  treatises  of  the  Organon,  the 
Prior  and  Posterior  Analytics,  the  Topics,  and  Sophistical 
Elenchi,  treat  directly  and  elaborately  of  the  reasoning 
processes  themselves.  So  one  perceives  the  grammatical 
affinities  of  the  simpler  treatises  in  the  Organon.  The  more 
advanced  ones  seem  to  stand  to  them  as  oratorical  rhetoric 
stands  to  elementary  grammar.  For  the  Analytics,  Topics, 
and  Sophistical  Elenchi  are  a  kind  of  eristic,  training  the 
student  to  use  the  processes  of  thought  and  their  expression 
in  order  to  attain  an  end,  commonly  argumentative.  The 
prior  treatises  have  taught  the  elements,  as  it  were  the 
orthography  and  etymology  of  the  rational  expression  of 
thought  in  language  ;  the  latter  (even  as  syntax  and  rhetoric), 

1  Eruditio  didascalica,  \.  cap.  12  (Migne,  Pat.  Lot.  176,  col.  750). 


334  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

train  the  student  in  the  use  of  these  elements.  And  one 
observes  a  nice  historical  fitness  in  the  fact  that  only  the 
simpler  treatises  of  the  Organon  were  in  common  use  in  the 
early  Middle  Ages,  since  they  alone  were  necessary  to  the 
first  stage  in  the  appropriation  of  the  substance  of  patristic 
and  antique  thought.  The  full  Organon  was  rediscovered, 
and  retaken  into  use  in  the  middle  or  latter  part  of  the 
twelfth  century,  when  men  had  progressed  to  a  more  organic 
appropriation  of  the  patristic  material  and  what  they  knew 
of  the  antique  philosophy. 

Thus  in  mediaeval  education,  and  in  the  successive  order 
of  appropriating  the  patristic  and  the  antique,  logic  stood  on 
grammar's  shoulders.  It  was  grammar's  rationalized  stage, 
and  treated  language  as  the  means  of  expressing  thought 
consistently  and  validly  ;  that  is,  so  as  not  to  contravene  the 
necessities  of  that  whereof  it  was  the  vehicle.  And  since 
language  thus  treated  was  in  accord  with  rational  thought,  it 
would  accord  with  the  realities  to  which  thought  corresponds  ; 
and  might  be  taken  as  expressing  them.  This  last  reflection 
introduces  metaphysics. 

And  properly.  For  the  three  stages  in  the  mediaeval 
appropriation  and  expression  of  knowledge  were  grammar, 
logic,  metaphysics.  Logic  has  to  do  with  the  processes  of 
thought  ;  with  the  positing  of  premises  and  the  drawing  of 
the  conclusion.  It  does  not  necessarily  consider  whether 
the  contents  of  its  premises  represent  realities.  This  is 
matter  for  ontology,  metaphysics.  Now  mediaeval  meta- 
physics, which  were  those  of  Greek  philosophy,  were  extremely 
pre-Kantian,  in  assuming  a  correspondence  between  the 
necessities  or  conclusions  of  thought  and  the  supreme 
realities,  God  and  the  Universe.  Nor  did  mediaeval  logic 
doubt  that  its  processes  could  elucidate  and  express  the 
veritable  natures  of  things.  So  mediaeval  logic  readily 
wandered  into  the  province  of  metaphysics,  and  ignored  the 
line  between  the  two. 

Yet  there  is  little  metaphysics  in  the  Organon  ;  none  in 

its  simpler  treatises.      So  there  was  none  in  the  elementary 

logical  instruction  of  the  schools  before  the  twelfth  century 

at  least.1      One  may  always  distinguish  between  logic  and 

1  Cf.  Abelson,  The  Seven  Liberal  Arts  (New  York,  1906). 


CHAP,  xxxv         STAGES  OF  EVOLUTION  335 

metaphysics  ;  and  it  is  to  our  purpose  to  do  so  here.  For 
as  we  have  taken  logic  to  represent  the  second  stage  in  the 
mediaeval  appropriation  of  knowledge,  so  metaphysics, 
poised  in  turn  on  logic's  shoulders,  is  very  representative  of 
the  third  stage,  to  wit,  the  stage  of  systematic  and  organic 
re-expression  of  the  ancient  matter,  with  elements  added  by 
the  great  schoolmen. 

Metaphysics  was  very  properly  the  final  stage.  The 
grammatical  represented  an  elementary  learning  of  what  the 
past  had  transmitted  ;  the  logical  a  further  retrying  of  the 
matter,  an  attempt  to  understand  and  express  it,  formulate 
parts  of  it  anew,  with  deeper  consistency  of  expression. 
Then  follows  the  attempt  for  final  and  universal  consistency : 
final  inasmuch  as  thought  penetrates  to  the  nature  of  things 
and  expresses  realities  and  the  relationships  of  realities  ;  and 
universal,  in  that  it  seeks  to  order  and  systematize  all  its 
concepts,  and  bring  them  to  unity  in  a  Summa — a  perfected 
scheme  of  rational  presentation  of  God  and  His  creation. 
This  will  be,  largely  speaking,  the  final  endeavour  of  the 
mediaeval  man  to  ease  his  mind,  and  realize  his  impulse  to 
know  and  express  himself  with  uttermost  consistency. 

So  for  mediaeval  men,  metaphysics  stood  on  logic's 
shoulders  and  represented  the  final  completion  of  their 
thought,  in  a  universal  system  and  scheme  of  God  and  man 
and  things.1  But  the  first  part  of  this  proposition  had  not 
been  true  with  Greek  philosophy.  Metaphysics  is  properly 
occupied  with  being,  in  its  ultimate  essence  and  relationships  ; 
with  the  consistent  putting  together  of  things,  to  wit,  the 
presentation  or  expression  of  them  so  as  not  to  disagree 
with  any  of  the  data  recognized  as  pertinent.  The  thinker 
considers  profoundly,  seeking  to  penetrate  the  ultimate 
reality  and  relationships  of  things,  through  which  a  universal 
whole  is  constituted.  This  makes  ontology,  metaphysics — 
the  science  of  being,  of  causes,  and  so  the  science  of  the  first 
Cause,  God.  Aristotle  called  this  the  "first"  philosophy, 
because  lying  at  the  base  of  all  branches  of  knowledge,  and 

1  I  am  speaking  generally,  that  is  to  say,  omitting  for  the  present  the  aberrant 
or  special  or  intrusive  tendencies  found  in  a  man  like  Roger  Bacon,  for  example. 
They  were  of  importance  for  what  was  to  come  thereafter  ;  but  are  not  broadly 
representative  of  the  Middle  Ages. 


336  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

depending  on  nothing  beyond  itself.  Some  time  after  his 
death,  the  Peripatetics  and  then  the  Neo-Platonists  called 
this  first  science  by  the  name  of  Metaphysics,  "  after "  or 
"  beyond  "  physics,  if  one  will,  perhaps  because  of  the  actual 
order  of  treatment  in  the  schools. 

The  term  Metaphysics  is  vague  enough  ;  either  "  first " 
philosophy  or  "  ontology "  is  preferable.  Yet  as  to  Greek 
philosophy  the  term  has  apt  historical  suggestiveness.  For 
it  did  come  after  physics  in  time,  and  was  in  fact  evoked 
by  the  imperfect  method  and  consequent  contradictions 
of  the  earlier  philosophies.  From  the  beginning,  Greek 
philosophy  drove  straight  at  the  cause  or  origin  of  things — 
surely  the  central  problem  of  metaphysics.  Thales  and  the 
other  lonians  began  with  rational,  though  crude,  hypotheses 
as  to  the  sources  of  the  universe.  These  were  first  attempts 
to  reach  a  consistent  expression  of  its  origin  and  nature. 
Each  succeeding  philosopher  considered  further,  from  the 
vantage-ground  of  the  recognized  inconsistencies  or  inade- 
quacies in  the  theories  of  his  predecessors.  He  was  thus 
led  on  to  consider  more  profoundly  the  essential  relationships 
of  things,  the  very  truth  of  their  relationships,  and  on  and 
on  into  the  problem  of  their  being.  For  the  verity  of  rela- 
tions must  be  according  to  the  verity  of  being  of  the  things 
related.  The  world  about  us  consists  in  relationships,  of 
antecedents  and  sequences,  of  cause  and  effect ;  and  our 
thought  of  it  is  made  up  of  consistencies  or  contradictions, 
which  last  we  struggle  to  eliminate,  or  to  transform  to 
consistencies. 

These  early  philosophers  looked  only  to  the  Aristotelian 
material  cause  for  the  origin  and  cause  of  things ;  yet 
reflection  plunged  them  deeper  into  a  consideration  of  the 
nature  of  being  and  relationships.  The  other  causes  were 
evoked  by  Anaxagoras  and  then  by  Plato,  and  by  them 
were  led  into  the  arena  of  debate  ;  and  philosophers  dis- 
cussed the  efficient  and  final  cause  as  well  as  the  material. 
Such  discussions  are  recognized  by  Plato,  and  finally  by 
Aristotle  as  relating  to  the  first  principles  of  cognition  and 
being,  and  so  as  constituting  metaphysics.  The  constant 
search  for  a  deeper  consistency  of  explanation  had  led  on 
and  on  through  a  manifold  consideration  of  those  palpable 


CHAP,  xxxv         STAGES  OF  EVOLUTION  337 

relationships  which  make  up  the  visible  world  ;  it  had  dis- 
closed the  series  of  necessary  assumptions  required  by  those 
visible  relationships  ;  and  thus  the  search  for  causality  and 
origins,  and  essential  relationships,  became  one  and  the 
same — metaphysics. 

Metaphysics  was  not  ineptly  called  so,  since  it  had  in 
time  come  after  the  cruder  physical  hypotheses.  But  such 
was  not  the  order  of  mediaeval  intellectual  progress.  The 
Middle  Ages  passed  through  no  preliminary  course  of 
physical  hypotheses,  explanatory  of  the  universe.  Not 
physics,  but  logic  (introduced  by  grammar)  led  up  to  the 
final  construction — or  rather  adoption  and  reconstruction — of 
ultimate  hypotheses  as  to  God  and  man,  led  up  to  the  all- 
ordering  and  all-compassing  Theologia.  Metalogics^  rather 
than  Metaphysics,  would  be  the  proper  name  for  these  final 
expressions  or  actualizations  of  the  mediaeval  impulse  to 
know. 


VOL.  II 


CHAPTER    XXXVI 

TWELFTH-CENTURY    SCHOLASTICISM 

I.  THE  PROBLEM  OF  UNIVERSALS  :    ABAELARD. 
II.  THE  MYSTIC  STRAIN:     HUGO  AND  BERNARD. 
III.  THE  LATER  DECADES:  BERNARD  SILVESTRIS  ;  GILBERT  DE  LA 
PORREE  ;  WILLIAM  OF  CONCHES  ;  JOHN  OF  SALISBURY,  AND 
ALANUS  OF  LILLE. 


FROM  the  somewhat  elaborate  general  considerations  which 
have  occupied  the  last  two  chapters,  we  turn  to  the 
representative  manifestations  of  mediaeval  thought  in  the 
twelfth  century.  These  belong  in  part  to  the  second  or 
"  logical,"  and  in  part  to  the  third  or  "  meta-logical,"  stage 
of  the  mediaeval  mind.  The  first  or  "  grammatical  "  stage 
was  represented  by  the  Carolingian  period  ;  and  in  reviewing 
the  mental  aspects  of  the  eleventh  century,  we  entered  upon 
the  second  stage,  that  of  logic,  or  dialectic,  to  use  the  more 
specific  mediaeval  term.  Toward  the  close  of  the  tenth 
century  Gerbert  was  found  strenuously  occupying  himself 
with  logic,  and  using  it  as  a  means  of  ordering  the  branches 
of  knowledge.  At  the  end  of  the  eleventh,  Anselm  has  not 
only  considered  certain  logical  problems,  but  has  vaulted 
over  into  constructive  metaphysical  theology.  Looking 
back  over  Anselm's  work,  from  the  vantage-ground  of  the 
twelfth  century's  further  reflections,  one  may  be  conscious 
of  a  certain  genial  youthfulness  in  his  reliance  upon  single 
arguments,  noble  and  beautiful  soarings  of  the  spirit,  which 
however  pay  little  regard  to  the  firmness  of  the  premises 
from  which  they  spring,  and  still  less  to  a  number  of  cognate 

338 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS     339 

and  pertinent  considerations,  which  the  twelfth  century  was 
to  analyze. 

Anselm's  thoughts  perhaps  overleaped  logic.  At  all 
events  he  appears  only  occasionally  absorbed  with  its  formal 
problems.  Yet  he  lived  in  a  time  of  dawning  logical  con- 
troversy. Roscellin  was  even  then  blowing  up  the  problem 
of  universals,  a  problem  occasioned  by  the  entering  of 
mediaeval  thought  upon  the  "  logical  "  stage  of  its  appropria- 
tion of  the  patristic  and  antique. 

The  problem  of  universals,  or  general  ideas,  from  the 
standpoint  of  logic,  lies  at  the  basis  of  consistent  thinking. 
It  reverts  to  the  time  when  Aristotle's  assertion  of  the  pre- 
eminently real  existence  of  individuals  broke  away  from 
the  Platonic  doctrine  of  Ideas.  For  the  early  mediaeval 
philosophers,  it  took  its  rise  in  a  famous  passage  in 
Porphyry's  Introduction  to  the  Categories,  the  concluding 
sentence  of  which,  as  translated  into  Latin  by  Boethius,  puts 
the  question  thus  :  "  Mox  de  generibus  et  speciebus  illud 
quidem  sive  subsistant  sive  in  nudis  intellectibus  posita 
sint,  sive  subsistentia  corporalia  sint  an  incorporalia,  et 
utrum  separata  a  sensibilibus  an  in  sensibilibus  posita  et 
circa  haec  consistentia,  dicere  recusabo."  "  Next  as  to  genera 
and  species,  do  they  actually  exist  or  are  they  merely  in 
thought ;  are  they  corporeal  or  incorporeal  existences  ;  are 
they  separate  from  sensible  things  or  only  in  and  of  them  ? 
— I  refuse  to  answer,"  says  Porphyry  ;  "  it  is  a  very  lofty 
business,  unsuited  to  an  elementary  work." 

Thus,  in  three  pairs  of  crude  alternatives,  the  question 
came  over  to  the  early  Middle  Ages.  The  men  of  the 
Carolingian  period  took  one  position  or  another,  without 
sensing  its  difficulties,  or  observing  how  it  lay  athwart  the 
path  of  knowledge.  Students  were  not  as  yet  attempting 
such  a  dynamic  appropriation  of  the  ancient  material  as 
would  evoke  this  veritable  problem  of  cognition.  Even 
Gerbert  at  the  close  of  the  tenth  century  was  still  so  busy 
with  the  outer  forms  and  figments  of  logic  that  he  had 
no  time  to  enter  on  those  ulterior  problems  where  logic 
links  itself  to  metaphysics.  One  Roscellin,  living  and 
teaching  apparently  at  Besangon  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
eleventh  century,  seems  to  have  been  the  first  to  attack  the 


340  THE  MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

currently  accepted  "  realism "  with  some  sense  of  the 
matter's  thorny  intricacies.  With  his  own  "  nominalistic " 
position  we  are  acquainted  only  through  his  adversaries,  who 
imputed  to  him  views  which  a  thoughtful  person  could 
hardly  have  entertained — that  universals  were  merely  words 
and  breath  {flatus  vocis).  Roscellin  seems  at  all  events 
to  have  been  a  man  strongly  held  by  the  reality  of 
individuals,  and  one  who  found  it  difficult  to  ascribe  a 
sufficient  intellectual  actuality  to  the  general  idea  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  perception  of  things  and  the  demands 
of  the  concepts  of  their  individual  existences.  His  logical 
difficulties  impelled  him  to  theological  heresy.  The  unity 
in  the  Trinity  became  an  impossibility ;  he  could  only  con- 
ceive of  three  beings,  just  as  he  might  think  of  three  angels  ; 
and  he  would  have  spoken  of  three  Gods  had  usage  not 
forbidden  it,  says  St.  Anselm.1  As  it  was,  he  said  enough 
to  draw  on  him  the  condemnation  of  a  Council  held  at 
Soissons  in  1092,  before  which  he  quailed  and  recanted. 
For  the  remainder  of  his  life  he  so  constrained  the  expression 
of  his  thoughts  as  to  ensure  his  safety. 

One  may  say  that  Plato's  theory  of  ideas  was  a  meta- 
physical presentation  of  the  universe,  sounding  in  conceptions 
of  reality.  But  for  the  Middle  Ages,  the  problem  whether 
genera  and  species  exist  when  abstracted  from  their  par- 
ticulars, sprang  from  logical  controversy.  It  was  a  prob- 
lem of  cognition,  cognizance,  understanding :  how  should 
one  understand  and  analyze  the  contents  of  a  statement, 
e.g.  Socrates  is  a  man.  Moreover,  it  was  a  fundamental 
and  universal  problem  of  cognition  ;  for  it  was  not  merely 
occupied,  like  all  mental  processes,  with  bringing  data  to 
consistent  formulation,  but  pertained  to  those  processes  them- 
selves by  which  any  and  all  data  are  stated  or  formulated. 
It  touched  every  formulation  of  truth,  asking,  in  fine,  how 
are  we  to  think  our  statements  ?  The  philosophers  of  the 

1  St  Anselm,  Epist.  lib.  iii.  41,  ad  Fulconem  (Migne,  Pat.  Lot.  158, 
coL  1192).  So  Roscellin  showed  in  his  own  case  how  problems  primarily 
logical  could  pass  over  to  metaphysics  or  theology.  Likewise,  although  on  the 
other  side  of  the  controversy,  one,  Odo  of  Tournai,  a  good  contemporary  realist, 
found  realism  an  efficient  aid  in  explaining  the  transmission  of  original  sin  ;  since 
for  him  all  men  formed  but  one  substance,  which  was  infected  once  for  all  by 
the  sin  of  the  first  parents.  Cf.  Haureau,  Hist,  de  la  philosophic  scholastique,  L 
pp.  297-308  ;  De  Wulf,  Hist,  of  Medieval  Philosophy,  p.  156,  3rd  ed. 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS     341 

eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries,  however,  did  not  view  this 
problem  as  one  pertaining  to  the  mind's  processes,  and  as 
having  to  do  solely  with  the  understanding  of  the  contents 
of  a  statement.  Rather,  even  as  Plato  had  done,  they 
approached  it  as  if  it  were  a  problem  of  modes  of  existence  ; 
and  for  this  very  reason  it  had  pushed  Roscellin  into 
theological  error. 

The  discussion  was  to  pass  through  various  stages  ;  and 
each  stage  may  seem  to  us  to  represent  the  point  reached  by 
the  thinker  in  his  analysis  of  his  conscious  meaning  in 
stating  a  proposition.  Moreover,  each  solution  may  be 
valid  for  him  who  gives  it,  because  of  its  correspondence  to 
the  meaning  of  his  utterances  so  far  as  he  has  analyzed 
them.  But  mediaeval  men  could  not  take  it  in  this  way. 
Their  intellectual  task  lay  in  appropriating,  and  in  their  own 
way  re-expressing,  all  that  had  come  to  them  from  an 
authoritative  past.  The  problem  of  universals  had  been 
stated  by  a  great  authority,  who  put  it  as  pertaining  to  the 
objective  reality  of  genera  and  species.  How  then  might 
mediaeval  men  take  it  otherwise,  especially  when  at  all 
events  it  pertained  in  all  verity  to  their  endeavour  to  grasp 
and  re-express  the  contents  of  transmitted  truth  ?  It  became 
for  a  while  the  crucial  problem,  the  answer  to  which  might 
indicate  the  thinker's  general  intellectual  attitude.  Far  from 
keeping  to  logic,  to  the  organon  or  instrumental  part  of  the 
mediaeval  endeavour  to  know,  it  wound  itself  through  meta- 
physics and  theology.  Obviously  the  thinker's  answer  to 
the  problem  would  bear  relation  to  his  thoughts  upon  the 
transcendent  reality  of  spiritual  essences. 

The  men  who  first  became  impressed  with  the  importance 
of  this  problem,  gave  extreme  answers  to  it,  sometimes 
crassly  denying  the  real  existence  of  universals,  but  more 
often  hailing  them  as  antecedent  and  all-permeating  realities. 
If  Roscellinus  took  the  former  position,  a  pupil  of  his, 
William  of  Champeaux,  held  the  extreme  opposite  view, 
when  both  he  and  the  twelfth  century  were  still  young. 
One  may,  however,  bear  in  mind  that  as  the  views  of  the 
older  nominalist  are  reported  only  by  his  enemies,  so  our 
knowledge  of  William's  lucubrations  comes  mainly  from  the 
exacerbated  pen  of  Peter  Abaelard. 


342  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vu 

William  held  apparently  "  that  the  same  thing,  in  its 
totality  and  at  the  same  time,  existed  in  its  single  individuals, 
among  which  there  was  no  essential  difference,  but  merely 
a  variety  of  accidents."  *  Abaelard  appears  to  have  performed 
a  reductio  ad  absurdum  upon  this  view  that  the  total  genus 
exists  in  each  individual.  He  pointed  out  that  in-  such  case 
the  total  genus  Jioino  would  at  the  same  time  exist  in 
Socrates  and  also  in  Plato,  when  one  of  them  might  be  in 
Rome  and  the  other  in  Athens.  "  At  this  William  changed 
his  opinion,"  continues  Abaelard,  "  and  taught  that  the  genus 
existed  in  each  individual  not  essentialiter  but  indifferenter 
or  [as  some  texts  read]  indrvidualiter?  Which  seems  to 
mean  that  William  no  longer  held  that  the  total  genus 
existed  in  each  individual  actually,  but  "  indistinguishably," 
or  "  individually." 

And  the  students  flocked  away  with  Abaelard,  he  also 
says ;  and  William  fled  the  lecture  chair.  William  and 
Peter ;  shall  we  say  of  them  arcades  ambo  ?  This  would  be 
but  a  harmless  depreciation  of  Abaelard,  in  the  face  of  the 
universal  and  correct  tradition  as  to  his  epoch-making 
intellectual  progressiveness.  Indeed  it  might  be  well  to  let 
the  phrase  sound  in  our  ears,  just  for  the  reminder's  sake, 
that  Abaelard  was,  like  William,  a  man  of  logic,  although  far 
more  expert  both  in  manipulating  the  dialectic  processes 
and  in  applying  them  to  theology. 

Before  endeavouring  briefly  to  reconstruct  the  intellectual 
qualities  of  Abaelard  from  his  writings,  let  us  see  how  the 
famous  open  letter  to  a  friend,  in  giving  an  apologetic  story 
of  the  writer's  life,  discloses  the  fatalities  of  his  character. 
This  Historia  calamitatum  suarum  makes  it  plain  enough 
why  the  crises  of  his  life  were  all  of  them  catastrophes — even 
leaving  out  of  view  his  liaison  with  Helol'se  and  its  penalty. 
A  fatal  impulse  to  annoy  seems  to  drive  him  from  fate  to 
fate;  the  old  word  of  Heraclitus  ?J0o9  av&parrrq)  Sai/iav 
(character  is  a  man's  genius)  was  so  patently  true  of  him. 
Much  that  he  said  was  to  receive  orthodox  approval  after 
his  time.  Quite  true.  It  has  often  been  remarked,  that  the 
heresy  of  one  age  is  the  accepted  doctrine  of  the  next,  even 
within  the  Church.  But  would  the  heretic  have  been  persona 

1  Abaelard,  Hist,  calamitatitm,  chap.  2. 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS     343 

grata  to  the  later  time  ?  Perhaps  not.  Peter  Abaelard  at 
all  events  would  have  led  others  and  himself  a  life  of  thorns 
in  the  thirteenth  century,  or  the  fourteenth  had  he  been 
born  again,  when  some  of  his  methods  and  opinions  had 
become  accepted  commonplace.  Did  he  have  an  eye  for 
logical  and  human  truth  more  piercing  than  his  twelfth- 
century  fellows  ?  Apparently.  Was  his  need  to  speak  out 
his  truth  so  much  the  more  imperative  than  theirs  ? 
Possibly.  At  all  events,  he  was  certainly  possessed  with  an 
inordinate  impulsion  to  undo  his  rivals.  He  sits  down 
before  their  fortress  walls  by  night,  and  when  they  see  him 
there,  they  know  not  whether  they  look  on  friend  or  foe — in 
this  auditor.  They  will  find  out  soon  enough.  He  studied 
dialectic  under  William  of  Champeaux  at  Paris,  as  all  men 
were  to  know.  He  got  what  William  had  to  teach,  and 
moved  on,  to  lecture  in  Melun  and  elsewhere.  Then  he 
returned  and  sat  at  William's  feet  awhile  to  learn  rhetoric,  as 
he  announced.  But  quickly  he  rose  up,  and  assailed  his 
master's  doctrine  of  universals,  and  overthrew  him,  as  we 
have  seen.  The  victim's  friends  made  Abaelard's  eristically 
won  lecturer's  seat  a  prickly  one.  He  left  Paris  for  a  while, 
and  then  returned  and  taught  on  Mount  St.  Genevieve,  out- 
side the  city. 

Up  to  this  time  he  had  not  been  known  to  study 
theology.  But  in  1 1 1 3,  at  the  age  of  thirty-four,  he  went 
to  Laon  to  listen  to  a  famous  theologian  named  Anselm, 
who  himself  had  studied  at  Bee  under  a  greater  Anselm. 
Says  Abaelard  in  his  Historia  calamitatum  :  "  So  I  came  to 
this  old  man,  whose  repute  was  a  tradition,  rather  than 
merited  by  talent  or  learning.  Any  one  who  brought  his 
uncertainties  to  him,  went  away  more  uncertain  still !  He 
was  a  marvel  in  the  eyes  of  his  hearers,  but  a  nobody  before 
a  questioner.  He  had  a  wonderful  word  flow,  but  the  sense 
was  contemptible  and  the  reasoning  abject"  Well,  I  didn't 
listen  to  him  long,  Abaelard  intimates  ;  but  began  to  absent 
myself  from  his  lectures,  and  was  brought  to  task  by  his 
auditors,  to  whom  jokingly  I  said,  I,  too,  could  lecture  on 
Scripture  ;  and  I  was  taken  up.  Nothing  loath,  the  next 
day  I  lectured  to  them  on  the  passage  they  had  chosen  from 
Ezekiel's  obscure  prophecies.  So,  all  unprepared,  and  trusting 


344  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  VH 

in  my  genius,  I  began  to  lecture,  at  first  to  sparse  audiences, 
but  they  quickly  grew.  Such  is  the  substance  of  Abaelard's 
own  account,  and  he  goes  on  to  tell  how  "  the  old  man 
aforesaid  was  violently  moved  with  envy,"  and  shortly 
Abaelard  had  to  take  his  lecturings  elsewhere.  He  returned 
to  Paris,  and  we  have  the  episode  of  Helo'fse,  for  whom,  as 
his  life  went  on,  he  evinced  a  devoted  affection.1 

Now  he  is  monk  in  the  abbey  of  St.  Denis ;  and  there 
again  he  lectures,  and  takes  up  certain  themes  against 
Roscellinus,  whom  he  seems  to  resurrect  from  the  quiet  of 
old  age  to  make  a  target  of.  This  old  man,  too,  hits  back, 
and  other  vicious  people  blow  up  a  cloud  of  envy,  until  the 
gifted  lecturer  finds  himself  an  accused  before  the  Council  of 
Soissons,  and  his  book  condemned.  Untaught  by  the 
burning  of  his  book,  Abaelard  returns  to  his  convent,  and 
proceeds  to  unearth  statements  of  the  Venerable  Bede  show- 
ing that  Dionysius  the  Areopagite  who  heard  Paul  preach, 
was  not  the  St.  Denis  who  became  patron  saint  of  France, 
and  founder  of  the  great  abbey  which  even  now  was 
sheltering  a  certain  Abaelard,  and  drawing  power  and 
revenue  from  the  fame  of  its  reputed  almost  apostolic 
founder.  Its  abbot  and  monks  did  not  care  to  have  the 
abbey  walls  undermined  by  truth,  and  Abaelard  was  hunted 
forth  from  among  them. 

It  was  after  this  that  he  made  for  himself  a  lonely 
refuge,  which  he  named  the  Paraclete,  not  far  from  Troyes, 
and  thither  again  his  pupils  followed  him  in  swarms,  and 
built  their  huts  around  him  in  the  wilderness.  But  still 
mightier  foes — or  their  phantoms — rise  against  this  hunted 
head.  The  Historia  seems  to  allude  to  St.  Norbert  and  to 
St.  Bernard.  Whatever  the  storm  was,  it  was  escaped  by 
flight  to  a  remote  Breton  convent  which — still  for  his  sins  ! — 
had  chosen  Abaelard  its  abbot.  There  in  due  course  they 
tried  to  murder  him,  and  again  he  fled,  this  time  back  to  his 
congenial  sphere,  the  schools  of  Paris,  where  he  lectured, 
now  at  the  summit  of  fame,  to  enthusiastic  multitudes  of 
students.  Some  years  pass,  and  then  the  pious  jackal, 
William  of  St.  Thierry,  rouses  his  lion  Bernard  to  contend 
with  Abaelard  and  crush  him,  not  with  dialectic,  at  the 

*  Ante,  Chapter  XXV. 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS    345 

Council  of  Sens  in  1141.  In  a  year  he  died,  a  broken  man, 
in  Cluny's  shelter.  The  conflict  had  not  been  of  his  seeking. 
Perhaps,  had  he  been  less  vain,  he  might  have  avoided  it. 
When  it  was  upon  him,  the  unhappy  athlete  of  the  schools 
found  himself  a  pigmy  matched  against  the  giant  of 
Clairvaux — the  Thor  and  Loki  of  the  Church  !  Whether  or 
not  the  unequal  battle  raises  Abaelard  in  our  esteem,  its 
outcome  commends  him  to  our  pity  ;  and  all  our  sympathy 
stays  with  him  to  the  last  days  of  a  life  that  was,  as  if 
physically,  crushed.  This  accumulation  of  sad  fortune  bears 
witness  enough  to  the  character  of  the  man  on  whose  neck 
it  did  not  fall  by  accident.  Now  let  us  try  to  reconstruct 
him  intellectually. 

We  have  heretofore  observed  the  genius  and  noted  the 
somewhat  swaddling  dialectic  categories  of  a  certain  eager 
intellect  bearing  the  name  of  Gerbert.1  Abaelard's  mental 
processes  have  advanced  beyond  such  logical  stammerings. 
He  and  his  time  are  in  the  fulness  of  youth,  and  feel  the 
strength  and  joyful  assurance  of  an  intellectual  progress,  to 
be  brought  about  by  a  new-found  proficiency  in  dialectic. 
In  the  first  half  of  the  twelfth  century,  the  intellectual  genius 
of  the  time — and  Abaelard  was  its  quintessence — knew 
itself  advancing  by  this  means  in  truth.  A  like  intellectual 
consciousness  had  rejoiced  the  disputants  in  Plato's  academy, 
under  the  inspiration  of  that  beautiful  reasoner's  exquisite 
dialectic.  The  one  time,  like  the  other,  was  justified  in 
its  confidence.  For  in  such  epochs,  language,  reasoning, 
and  knowledge  advance  with  equal  step  ;  thought  clears  up 
with  linguistic  and  logical  analysis  ;  it  becomes  clear  and 
illuminated  because  more  distinctly  conscious  of  the  char- 
acter of  its  processes,  and  the  nature  of  statement.  There 
is  thus  a  veritable  progress,  at  least  in  the  methodology 
of  truth. 

In  Abaelard's  time  men  had  already  studied  grammar, 
the  grammar  of  the  Latin  tongue,  and  the  quasi-grammar  of 
rearrangement  and  first  painful  learning  of  the  knowledge 
which  it  held.  They  had  studied  logic  too,  its  simpler 
elements,  those  which  consist  mainly  in  a  further  clearing 
up  of  the  meanings  of  language.  Some  men — Anselm  of 

1  Ante,  Chapter  XII.,   I. 


346  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

Canterbury  —  had  already  made  sudden  flights  beyond 
grammar,  and  out  of  logic's  pale.  And  the  labour  of  logical 
and  organic  appropriation,  with  some  reconstruction  of  the 
ancient  material,  was  to  go  on  in  this  first  half  of  the  twelfth 
century,  when  Hugo  of  St.  Victor  lived  as  well  as  Abaelard. 
Progress  by  means  of  dialectic  controversy,  and  first  attempts 
at  systematic  construction,  mark  this  period  intellectually. 
Abaelard  lived  and  moved  and  had  his  being  in  dialectic. 
The  further  interest  of  Theology  was  lent  him  by  the  spirit 
of  his  time.  Through  the  medium  of  the  one  he  reasoned 
analytically  ;  and  in  the  province  of  the  other  he  applied  his 
reasoning  constructively,  using  patristic  materials  and  the 
fragments  of  Greek  philosophy  scattered  through  them. 
Thus  Abaelard,  a  true  man  of  the  twelfth  century,  passes 
on  through  logic  to  theology  or  metaphysics. 

For  the  completeness  of  his  logical  knowledge  he  lived 
and  worked  twenty  or  thirty  years  too  soon.  He  was 
unacquainted  with  the  more  elaborate  logical  treatises  of 
Aristotle,  to  wit,  the  Prior  and  Posterior  Analytics,  the 
Topics,  and  Sophistical  Elenchi.  The  sources  of  his 
own  treatises  upon  Dialectic  are  Porphyry's  Introduction, 
Aristotle's  Categories  and  De  interpretation,  and  certain 
treatises  of  Boethius.1  A  first  result  of  the  elementary  and 
quasi-grammatical  character  of  the  sources  of  logic  upon 
which  he  drew,  is  that  the  connection  between  logic  and 
grammar  is  very  plain  with  him.  Note,  for  example,  this 
paragraph  of  his,  the  substance  of  which  is  drawn  from 
Aristotle's  Categories  : 

"  But  neither  can  substances  be  compared,2  since  comparison 
relates  to  attribute,  and  not  to  substance;  so  it  is  shown  that 
comparison  lies  not  as  to  nouns,  but  as  to  their  attributes.  Thus 
we  say  whiter  but  not  whitenesser.  Much  more  are  substances 
which  have  no  attribute  (adjaeentiani)  immune  from  comparison. 
More  or  less  cannot  be  predicated  of  nouns  (nomina  substantiva). 
For  one  cannot  say  more  man  or  less  man,  as  more  or  less  white" 3 


1  Abaelard's  Dialectica  was  published  by  Cousin,  Outrages  intdits  cFAbtlard 
(Paris,  1836).  For  a  thorough  exposition  of  Abaelard's  logic  see  Prantl,  Ges. 
der  Logik,  ii.  p.  160  sqq. 

1  I.e.  as  positive,  comparative,  and  superlative. 

3  Cousin,  Ouvr,  intdits,  p.  175.  Cf.  Aristotle's  Categories,  ii.  v.  20.  The 
opening  of  Pars  tertia  of  Abaelard's  Dialectica  (in  Cousin's  edition,  p.  324  sqq.) 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS    347 

Evidently  this  elementary  sort  of  logic,  whether  with 
Aristotle  or  Abaelard,  represents  a  clearing  up  of  the  mind 
on  current  modes  of  expression.  And  sometimes  from  such 
studies  men  make  discoveries  like  that  of  Moliere's  Bourgeois 
Gentilhomme,  who  discovered  that  he  had  always  been 
talking  prose.  Some  of  the  points  on  which  the  minds  of 
Abaelard's  contemporaries  required  clarification,  would  be 
foolish  word-play  to  ourselves,  as,  for  instance,  whether  the 
significance  of  the  sentence  homo  est  animal  is  contained  in 
the  subject,  copula,  or  predicate,  or  only  in  all  three  ;  and 
whether  when  a  word  is  spoken,  the  very  same  word  and 
the  whole  of  it  comes  to  the  ears  of  all  the  hearers  at  the 
same  time :  "  utrum  ipsa  vox  ad  aures  diversorum  simul 
et  tota  aequaliter  veniat."  1  Such  questions,  as  was  observed 
regarding  the  problems  of  logical  arrangement  in  Gerbert's 
mind,  may  be  pertinent  and  reasonable  enough,  if  viewed  in 
connection  with  the  intellectual  conditions  of  a  period  ;  just 
as  many  questions  now  make  demand  on  us  for  solution, 
being  links  in  the  chain  of  our  knowledge,  or  manner  of 
reasoning.  But  future  men  may  pass  them  by  as  not  lying 
in  their  path  to  progressive  knowledge  of  the  universe  and 
man. 

So  the  problem  of  universals  was  still  cardinal  with 
Abaelard  and  his  fellow-logicians,  who  through  logic  were 
advancing,  as  they  believed,  along  the  path  of  objective 
truth.  Its  solution  would  determine  the  nature  of  the 
categories  into  which  logic  was  fitting  whatever  might  be 
enunciated  or  expressed.  The  inquiry  represented  an 
ultimate  analysis  of  statement,  of  the  general  nature  of 
propositions  ;  and  also  related  to  their  assumed  corre- 
spondence with  realities.  What  William  of  Champeaux  had 
unqualifiedly  alleged,  Abaelard  tried  to  determine  more 
analytically,  to  wit,  the  value  of  the  proposition  "  si  aliquid 
sit  ea  res  quae  est  species,  id  est  vel  homo  vel  equus  et 
caetera,  sit  quaelibet  res  quae  eorum  genus  est,  veluti  animal 
aut  corpus  aut  substantia," — if  species  be  something,  as  man, 

affords  an  interesting  example  of  this  logical  analysis  and  reconstruction  of 
statement,  which  seems  to  originate  in  sheer  grammar,  and  then  advance 
beyond  it. 

1  Cousin,  o.c.  pp.  190,  192. 


348  THE  MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

horse,  and  so  forth,  then  that  which  is  the  genus  of  these 
may  be  something,  as  animal,  body,  or  substance.1 

Abaelard's  discussion  of  this  matter  is  a  discussion  of 
the  true  content  of  propositions.  His  conclusion  is  not  so 
clear  as  to  have  occasioned  no  dispute.  One  must  not  think 
of  him  as  an  Aristotelian — for  he  knew  little  of  the  sub- 
stantial philosophy  of  Aristotle.  Our  dialectician  had 
absorbed  more  of  Plato,  through  turbid  patristic  channels 
and  the  current  translation  of  the  Timaeus.  So  his  solution 
of  the  question  of  genus  and  species  may  prove  an  analytic 
bit  of  eclecticism,  an  imagined  reconcilement  of  the  two 
great  masters.  The  universal  or  general  is,  says  he,  "  quod 
natum  est  de  pluribus  praedicari,"  that  which  is  by  its  nature 
adapted  to  be  predicated  of  a  number  of  things.  The 
universal  consists  neither  in  things  as  such  nor  in  words  as 
such  ;  it  consists  rather  in  general  predicability  ;  it  is  sermo, 
sermo  praedicabilis ,  that  which  may  be  stated,  as  a  predicate, 
of  many.  As  such  it  is  not  a  mere  word  :  sermo  is  not 
merely  vox ;  that  is  not  the  true  general  predicable.  On  the 
other  hand,  one  thing  cannot  be  the  predicate  of  another  ; 
res  de  re  non  praedicatur :  therefore  sermo  is  not  res.  Yet 
Abaelard  does  not  limit  the  existence  of  the  universal  to 
the  concept  of  him  who  thinks  it.  It  surely  exists  in  the 
individuals,  since  substantia  specierum  is  not  different  from 
the  essentia  individuorum.  But  does  not  the  general  con- 
cept exist  as  an  objective  unity  ?  Apparently  Abaelard 
would  answer  :  Yes,  it  does  thus  exist  as  a  common  sameness 
(consimilitudo). 

All  this  is  anything  but  clear.  And  the  various  twelfth- 
century  opinions  on  universals  no  longer  possess  human 
interest.  It  is  hard  for  us  to  distinguish  between  them,  or 
understand  them  clearly,  or  state  them  intelligibly.  They 
are  bound  up  in  a  phraseology  untranslatable  into  modern 
language,  because  the  discussion  no  longer  corresponds  to 
modern  ways  of  thought.  But  one  is  interested  in  the 
human  need  which  drove  Abaelard  and  his  fellows  upon  the 
horns  of  this  problem,  and  in  the  nature  of  their  endeavours 
to  formulate  their  thought  so  as  to  escape  those  opposing 
horns — of  an  extreme  realism  which  might  issue  in  pantheism, 
1  Cousin,  o.e.  p.  331. 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS    349 

and    an    extreme    nominalism    which    seemed    to    deprive 
predication  of  substance  and  validity.1 

So  much  for  Abaelard  as  sheer  logician,  formal  adjuster 
of  the  instrumental  processes  of  thinking.  Dialectic  was  for 
him  a  first  stage  in  the  actualization  of  the  impulse  to  know, 
and  bring  knowledge  to  consistent  expression.  It  was  also 
his  way  of  approach  to  the  further  systematic  presentation 
of  his  thoughts  upon  God  and  man,  human  society  and 
justice,  divine  and  human. 

"  A  new  calumny  against  me,  have  my  rivals  lately  devised, 
because  I  write  upon  the  dialectic  art;  affirming  that  it  is  not 
lawful  for  a  Christian  to  treat  of  things  which  do  not  pertain  to  the 
Faith.  Not  only  they  say  that  this  science  does  not  prepare  us 
for  the  Faith,  but  that  it  destroys  faith  by  the  implications  of  its 
arguments.  But  it  is  wonderful  if  I  must  not  discuss  what  is 
permitted  them  to  read.  If  they  allow  that  the  art  militates  against 
faith,  surely  they  deem  it  not  to  be  science  (scientia).  For  the 
science  of  truth  is  the  comprehension  of  things,  whose  species  is  the 
wisdom  in  which  faith  consists.  Truth  is  not  opposed  to  truth. 
For  not  as  falsehood  may  be  opposed  to  falsity,  or  evil  to  evil,  can 
the  true  be  opposed  to  the  true,  or  the  good  to  the  good ;  but 
rather  all  good  things  are  in  accord.  All  knowledge  is  good,  even 
that  which  relates  to  evil,  because  a  righteous  man  must  have  it. 
Since  he  should  guard  against  evil,  it  is  necessary  that  he  should 
know  it  beforehand :  otherwise  he  could  not  shun  it.  Though  an 
act  be  evil,  knowledge  regarding  it  is  good ;  though  it  be  evil  to 
sin,  it  is  good  to  know  the  sin,  which  otherwise  we  could  not  shun. 
Nor  is  the  science  malhematica  to  be  deemed  evil,  whose  practice 
(astrology)  is  evil.  Nor  is  it  a  crime  to  know  with  what  services 
and  immolations  the  demons  may  be  compelled  to  do  our  will,  but 
to  use  such  knowledge.  For  if  it  were  evil  to  know  this,  how 
could  God  be  absolved,  who  knows  the  desires  and  cogitations  of 
all  His  creatures,  and  how  the  concurrence  of  demons  may  be 
obtained  ?  If  therefore  it  is  not ;  wrong  to  know,  but  to  do,  the 
evil  is  to  be  referred  to  the  act  and  not  to  the  knowledge.  Hence 
we  are  convinced  that  all  knowledge,  which  indeed  comes  from 
God  alone  and  from  His  bounty,  is  good.  Wherefore  the  study  of 
every  science  should  be  conceded  to  be  good,  because  that  which  is 
good  comes  from  it ;  and  especially  one  must  insist  upon  the  study 
of  that  doctrina  by  which  the  greater  truth  is  known.  This  is 
dialectic,  whose  function  is  to  distinguish  between  every  truth  and 

1  Prantl's  Geschichte  der  Logik,  vol.  ii.,  contains  an  exhaustive  discussion  of 
the  various  phases  of  this  controversy  :  its  language  is  little  less  difficult  than 
that  of  the  twelfth-century  word-twisters. 


350  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOKVII 

falsity :  as  leader  in  all  knowledge  it  holds  the  primacy  and  rule  of 
all  philosophy.  The  same  also  is  shown  to  be  needful  to  the 
Catholic  Faith,  which  cannot  without  its  aid  resist  the  sophistries  of 
schismatics." l 

In  this  passage  the  man  himself  is  speaking,  and  dis- 
closing his  innermost  convictions.  For  Abaelard's  nature 
was  set  upon  understanding  all  things  through  reason,  even 
the  mysteries  of  the  Faith.  He  does  not  say,  or  quite  think, 
that  he  will  disbelieve  whatever  he  cannot  understand  ;  but 
his  reasoning  and  temper  point  to  the  conclusion.  This  was 
obviously  true  of  Abaelard's  ethical  opinions ;  his  enemies 
said  it  was  true  of  his  theology.  Such  a  man  would 
naturally  plead  for  freedom  of  discussion,  even  for  freedom 
of  conclusion ;  but  within  certain  bounds  ;  for  who  in  the 
twelfth  century  could  maintain  that  heretics  or  infidels  did 
rightly  in  rejecting  the  Christian  Faith?  Yet  Abaelard 
says  heretics  should  be  compelled  (coercendi)  by  reason 
rather  than  force.2  And  he  could  at  least  conceive  of  the 
rejection  of  the  Faith  upon,  say,  imperfect  rational  grounds. 
In  his  dialogue  between  Philosopher,  Jew,  and  Christian,  the 
Christian  says  to  the  Philosopher :  One  cannot  argue 
against  you  from  the  authority  of  Scripture,  which  you  do 
not  recognize  ;  for  no  one  can  be  refuted  save  with  arguments 
drawn  from  what  he  admits :  Nemo  quippe  argui  nisi  ex 
concessis  potest?  However  this  sounded  in  Abaelard's  time, 
the  same  was  enunciated  by  Thomas  Aquinas  after  him,  in 
a  passage  already  given.4  But  it  is  doubtful  whether 
Thomas  would  have  cared  to  follow  Abaelard  in  some  of 
the  arguments  of  his  Ethics  or  Book  called,  Know  Thyself,  in 
which  he  maintains  that  no  act  is  a  sin  unless  the  actor  was 
conscious  of  its  sinfulness  ;  and  therefore  that  killing  the 
martyrs  could  not  be  imputed  as  sin  to  those  persecutors 
who  deemed  themselves  thereby  to  be  doing  a  service 
acceptable  to  God.6 

The  titles  given  by  Abaelard  to  his  various  treatises  are 
indicative  of  the  critical  insistency  of  his  nature.      He  called 

1  Cousin,  o.e.  pp.  434,  435. 

2  Theologia  Christiana,  iv.  (Migne  178,  col.  1284). 
3  Migne,  Pat.  Lat.  178,  col.  1641. 

*  Ante,  p.  292. 
5  Scito  te  ipsum,  cap.  13  (Migne  178,  col.  653). 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS    351 

his  Ethica,  Scito  te  ipsum,  Know  Thyself:  understand  thy 
good  and  ill  intentions,  and  what  may  be  vice  or  virtue  in 
thee.  Through  the  book,  the  discussion  of  right  and  wrong 
directs  itself  as  pertinaciously  to  considerations  of  human 
nature  as  was  possible  in  an  age  when  theological  dogma 
held  the  final  criteria  of  human  conduct.  And  Abaelard  is 
capable  of  a  lofty  insight  touching  the  relationship  between 
God  and  man. 

"  Penitence,"  says  he,  "  is  truly  fruitful  when  grief  and  contrition 
proceed  from  love  of  God,  regarded  as  benignant,  rather  than  from 
fear  of  penalties.  Sin  cannot  endure  with  this  groaning  and  con- 
trition of  heart :  for  sin  is  contempt  of  God,  or  consent  to  evil, 
and  the  love  of  God  in  inspiring  our  groaning,  suffers  no  ill." * 

Possibly  when  reading  the  Scito  te  ipsum  one  is  con- 
scious of  a  dialectician  drawing  distinctions,  rather  than  of 
a  moralist  searching  the  heart  of  the  matter.  Everything 
is  set  forth  so  reasonably.  Yet  Abaelard's  impartial  delight 
in  a  rational  view  of  belief  and  conduct  shows  nowhere 
quite  as  obviously  as  in  his  Dialogue  between  Philosopher 
and  Jew  and  Christian.  Each  in  turn  is  made  to  set  forth 
the  best  arguments  his  position  admits  of.  The  author  does 
his  best  for  each,  and  perhaps  seems  temperamentally 
drawn  to  the  position  of  the  Philosopher,  whom  he  permits 
to  call  the  Jews  stultos  and  the  Christians  insanos.  This 
philosopher  naturally  is  no  Greek  of  Plato's  or  Aristotle's 
time,  but  a  good  Roman,  who  regards  moralis  philosophia  as 
the  finis  omnium  disciplinarum,  and  hangs  all  intellectual 
considerations  upon  a  discussion  of  the  summum  bonum. 
His  well-worn  arguments  are  put  with  earnestness.  He 
deprecates  the  blind  acceptance  of  beliefs  by  children  from 
their  fathers,  and  the  narrowness  of  mind  which  keeps  men 
from  perceiving  the  possible  truth  in  others'  opinions  : 

"  so  that  whomsoever  they  see  differing  from  themselves  in  belief, 
they  deem  alien  from  the  mercy  of  God.  Thus  condemning  all 
others,  they  vaunt  themselves  alone  as  blessed.  Long  reflecting  on 
this  blindness  and  pride  of  the  human  race,  I  have  unceasingly 
besought  the  Divine  Pity  that  He  would  deign  to  draw  me  forth 
from  this  miserable  Charibdian  whirlpool  of  error,  and  guide  me  to 

1  Scito  te  ipsum,  cap.  19  (Migne  178,  col.  664). 


352  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

a  port  of  safety.  So  you  [addressing  both  Jew  and  Christian] 
behold  me  solicitous  and  attentive  as  a  disciple,  to  the  documents 
of  your  arguments." l 

The  qualities  cultivated  by  dialectic,  and  the  impartial 
rational  temper,  here  displayed,  reappear  in  the  works  of 
Abaelard  devoted  to  sacred  doctrine.  Enough  has  been 
said  of  the  method  and  somewhat  captious  qualities  of  the 
Sic  et  non?  Unquestionably  its  manner  of  presenting  the 
contradictory  opinions  of  the  Fathers,  without  any  attempt 
to  reconcile  them,  tended  to  bring  into  view  the  difficulties 
inhering  in  the  formulation  of  Christian  belief.  And  indeed 
the  book  made  prominent  all  the  diabolic  insoluble  problems 
of  the  Faith,  or  rather  of  life  itself  and  any  view  of  God  and 
man :  Predestination,  for  example  ;  whether  God  causes 
evil ;  whether  He  is  omnipotent ;  whether  He  is  free.  The 
Lombard's  Sentences  and  Thomas's  Summa  considered  all 
these  questions  ;  but  they  strove  to  solve  them  ;  and 
Thomas  did  solve  every  one,  leaving  no  loose  ends  to  his 
theology.  More  potently  than  Abaelard  did  the  Angelic 
Doctor  employ  dialectic  in  his  finished  scheme.  With  him, 
this  propaedeutic  discipline,  this  tool  of  truth,  perfectly 
performs  its  task  of  construction.  So  also  Abaelard 
intended  to  work  with  it ;  but  his  somewhat  unconsidered 
use  of  the  tool  did  not  meet  the  approval  of  his  con- 
temporaries. Accordingly,  in  his  more  constructive  theo- 
logical treatises  his  impulse  to  know  and  state  appears 
finally  actualized  in  the  systematic  formulation  of  convictions 
upon  topics  of  ultimate  interest,  to  wit,  theology,  the 
contents  of  the  Christian  Faith,  the  full  relationship  of  God 
and  man.  Did  he  sever  theology  from  philosophy?  Nay, 
rather,  with  him  theology  was  ultimate  philosophy. 

Several  times  Abaelard  rewrote  what  was  substantially 
the  same  general  work  upon  Theology.  In  one  of  its 
earliest  forms  it  was  burnt  by  the  Council  of  Soissons 
in  II2I.3  In  another  form  it  exists  under  the  title 
Theologia  Christiana  ; 4  and  the  first  part  of  its  apparently 

1  Migne  178,  col.  1615.  2  Ante,  pp.  304  sqq, 

3  This    has    been    published    by   Stolzle :    Abaelards    1121    zu    Soissons 
verurteilter  Tractatus  de  Unitate  et  Trinitate  divina  (1891). 

4  Migne   178,  col.    1123-1330;    Cousin  and  Jourdain,  P.  Abaelardi  opera, 
"•  PP-  357-566  (1859). 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS    353 

final    revision   is    now    improperly   entitled,   Introductio   ad 
theologiam. * 

The  first  Book  of  the  Theologia  Christiana  is  an  exposition 
of  the  Trinity,  not  clinched  in  syllogisms,  but  consisting 
mainly  of  an  orderly  presentation  of  the  patristic  authorities 
supporting  the  author's  view  of  the  matter.  The  testimonies 
of  profane  writers  are  also  given.  Liber  II.  opens  by  saying 
that  in  the  former  part  of  the  work  "  we  have  collected  the 
testimonia  of  prophets  and  philosophers,  in  support  of  the 
faith  of  the  Holy  Trinity."  Hereupon,  by  the  same  method 
of  adducing  authorities,  Abaelard  proceeds  to  refute  those 
who  had  blamed  him  for  citing  the  pagan  philosophers. 
He  marshals  his  supporting  excerpts  from  the  Fathers,  and 
remarks  :  "  That  nothing  is  more  needful  for  the  defence  of 
our  faith  than  that  as  against  the  importunities  of  all  the 
infidels  we  should  have  witness  from  themselves  wherewith 
to  refute  them."  Then  he  points  to  the  moral  worth  of 
some  of  the  philosophers,  to  their  true  teaching  of  the  soul's 
immortality,  and  quotes  Horace's 

"  Oderunt  peccare  boni  virtutis  amore." 

He  continues  at  some  length  setting  forth  their  well- 
nigh  evangelical  virtue,  and  speaks  of  the  Gospel  as  refor- 
mat™ legis  naturalis. 

At  the  beginning  of  Liber  III.  comes  the  statement: 
"  We  set  the  faith  of  the  blessed  Trinity  as  the  foundation 
of  all  good."  Whereupon  Abaelard  breaks  out  in  a  de- 
nunciation of  those  who  misuse  dialectic ;  but  again  he 
passes  to  a  defence  of  the  art  as  an  art  and  branch  of  know- 
ledge, and  shows  its  need  as  a  weapon  against  those  wranglers 
who  will  be  quieted  neither  by  the  authority  of  the  saints 
nor  the  philosophers :  against  whom,  he,  Abaelard,  trusting 
in  the  divine  aid,  will  turn  this  weapon  as  David  did  the 
sword  of  Goliath.  He  now  states  the  true  object  of  his 
work  :  "  First  then  is  to  be  set  forth  the  theme  of  our  whole 
labour,  and  the  sum  of  faith ;  the  unity  of  the  divine 
substance  and  the  Trinity  of  persons,  which  are  in  God, 
and  are  one  God.  Next  we  state  the  objections  to  our 
theses,  and  then  the  solutions  of  those  objections."  And  he 

1  Migne  178,  col.  979-1 1 14  ;  Cousin  and  Jourdain,  o.c.  pp.  1-149- 
VOL.  II  2   A 


354  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vu 

gives  the  substance  of  the  Athanasian  Creed.  From  this 
point,  his  work  becomes  more  dialectical  and  constructive, 
although  of  course  continuing  to  quote  authorities.  He  is 
emboldened  to  discuss  the  deepest  mysteries,  the  very 
penetralia  of  the  Trinity,  and  in  a  way  which  might  well 
alarm  men  like  Bernard,  who  desired  acceptance  of  the 
Faith,  with  rhetoric,  but  without  discussion.  To  be  sure 
Abaelard  pauses  to  justify  himself  by  reverting  to  his 
apologetic  purpose  :  "  Heretics  must  be  coerced  with  reason 
rather  than  by  force."  However  this  may  be,  the  work 
henceforth  shows  the  passing  on  of  logic  to  the  exercise  of 
its  architectonic  functions  in  constructing  a  systematic 
theological  metaphysics. 

The  miscalled  Introductio  ad  theologiam,  as  might  be 
expected  of  a  last  revision  of  the  author's  Theology,  is  a 
more  organic  work.  In  the  Prologue,  Abaelard  speaks  of 
it  as  a  Summa  sacrae  eruditionis  or  an  Introductio  to  Divine 
Scripture.  And  again  he  states  the  justifying  purpose  of 
his  labour,  or  rather  puts  it  into  the  mouths  of  his  disciples 
who  have  asked  for  such  a  work  from  him  :  "  Since  our 
faith,  the  Christian  Faith,  seems  entangled  in  such  difficult 
questions,  and  to  stand  apart  from  human  reason  (et  ab 
humana  ratione  longius  absistere),  it  should  be  fortified  by 
so  much  the  stronger  arguments,  especially  against  the 
attacks  of  those  who  call  themselves  philosophers."  Con- 
tinuing, Abaelard  protests  that  if  in  any  way,  for  his  sins, 
he  should  deviate  from  the  Catholic  understanding  and 
statement,  he  will  on  seeing  his  error  revise  the  same,  like 
the  blessed  Augustine. 

The  work  itself  opens  with  a  statement  of  its  intended 
divisions :  "  In  three  matters,  as  I  judge,  rests  the  sum 
of  human  salvation  :  Fides  >  caritas,  and  sacramentum  "  ;  and 
he  gives  his  definition  of  faith,  which  was  so  obnoxious  to 
Bernard  and  others,  as  the  existimatio  rerum  non  apparentium. 
The  three  extant  Books  do  not  conclude  the  treatment  even 
of  the  first  of  these  three  topics.  But  one  readily  sees  that 
were  the  work  complete,  its  arrangement  might  correspond 
with  that  of  Thomas's  Summa}  One  may  reiterate  that  it 
was  more  constructively  argumentative  than  the  Tlieologia 
i  Ante,  Chapter  XXXV.,  i. 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS    355 

Christiana,  even  in  the  manner  of  using  the  cited  authorities. 
For  instance,  Abaelard's  mind  is  fixed  on  the  analogy 
between  the  Neo-Platonic  Trinity  of  Deus,  nous,  and  anima 
mundi,  and  that  of  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost.  The 
nous  fitly  represents  Christ,  who  is  the  Sapientia  Dei — which 
Abaelard  sets  forth  ;  but  then  with  even  greater  insistency 
he  identifies  the  Holy  Spirit  with  the  world-soul.  Nothing 
gave  a  stronger  warrant  to  the  accusations  of  heresy  brought 
against  him  than  this  last  doctrine,  with  which  he  was 
obsessed.  Yet  what  roused  St.  Bernard  and  his  jackals 
was  not  so  much  any  particular  opinion  of  Abaelard,  as  his 
dialectic  and  critical  spirit,  which  insisted  upon  understand- 
ing and  explaining,  before  believing.  "  The  faith  of  the 
righteous  believes ;  it  does  not  dispute.  But  that  man, 
suspicious  of  God  (Deum  habens  suspectum},  has  no  mind 
to  believe  what  his  reason  has  not  previously  argued." l 

Still,  when  Bernard  says  that  faith  does  not  discuss,  but 
believes,  he  states  a  conviction  of  his  mind,  a  conviction 
corresponding  with  an  inner  need  of  his  own  to  formulate 
and  express  his  thought.  Only,  with  Abaelard  the  need 
to  consider  and  analyse  was  more  consciously  imperative. 
He  could  not  avoid  the  constant  query :  How  shall  I  think 
this  thing — this  thing,  for  example,  which  is  declared  by 
revelation  ?  Just  as  other  questioning  spirits  in  other  times 
might  be  driven  upon  the  query :  How  shall  we  think  these 
things  which  are  disclosed  by  the  variegated  walls  of  our 
physical  environment?  Those  yield  data,  or  refuse  them, 
and  force  the  mind  to  put  many  queries,  and  come  to  some 
adjustment.  So  experience  presents  data  for  adjustment, 
just  as  dogma,  Scripture,  revelation  present  that  which 
reason  must  bring  within  the  action  of  its  processes,  and 
endeavour  to  find  rational  expression  for. 

II 

The  greatest  dialectician  of  the  early  twelfth  century 
felt  no  problems  put  him  by  the  physical  world.  That  did 
not  attract  his  inquiry ;  it  did  not  touch  the  reasonings 
evolved  by  his  self-consciousness,  any  more  than  it  impressed 

1  Bernard,  Ep.  338  (Migne  182,  col.  542). 


356  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOKVH 

the  fervid  mind  of  his  great  adversary,  St.  Bernard.  The 
natural  world,  however,  stirred  the  mind  of  Abaelard's  con- 
temporary, Hugo  of  St.  Victor.1  Its  colours  waved  before 
his  reveries,  and  its  visible  sublimities  drew  his  mind  aloft 
to  the  contemplation  of  God  :  for  him  its  things  were  all  the 
things  of  God — opus  conditionis  or  opus  restaurationis  ;  ~  the 
work  of  foundation,  whereby  God  created  the  physical  world 
for  the  support  and  edification  of  its  crowning  creature  man  ; 
and  the  work  of  restoration,  to  wit,  the  incarnation  of  the 
Word,  and  all  its  sacraments. 

Hugo  was  a  Platonic  and  very  Christian  theologian. 
He  would  reason  and  expound,  and  yet  was  well  aware  that 
reason  could  not  fathom  the  nature  of  God,  or  bring  man 
to  salvation.  "  Logic,  mathematics,  physics  teach  some 
truth,  yet  do  not  reach  that  truth  wherein  is  the  soul's  safety, 
without  which  whatever  is  is  vain." 3  So  Hugo  was  not 
primarily  a  logician,  like  Abaelard  ;  nor  did  he  care  chiefly 
for  the  kind  of  truth  which  might  be  had  through  logic. 
Nevertheless  the  productions  of  his  short  life  prove  the 
excellence  of  his  mind  and  his  large  enthusiasm  for 
knowledge. 

As  Hugo  was  the  head  of  the  school  of  St.  Victor  for 
some  years  before  his  death,  certain  of  his  works  cover 
topics  of  ordinary  mediaeval  education,  secular  and  religious  ; 
while  others  advance  to  a  more  profound  expression  of  the 
intellectual,  or  spiritual,  interests  of  their  author.  For 
elementary  religious  instruction,  he  composed  a  veritable 
book  of  Sentences?  which  preceded  the  Lombard's  in  time, 
but  was  later  than  Abaelard's  Sic  et  non.  Without  striking 
features,  it  lucidly  and  amiably  carried  out  its  general 
purpose  of  setting  forth  the  authoritative  explanations  of  the 
elements  of  the  Christian  Faith.  The  writer  did  not  hesitate 
to  quote  opposing  views,  which  were  not  heralded,  however, 

1  Whose  sacramental  theory  of  the  Creation  has  already  been  given  at  length, 
ante,  Chapter  XXVIII.     For  the  incidents  of  Hugo's  life  see  the  same  chapter. 
Bibliography,  note  to  page  61.     See  also  Ostler,  "Die  Psychologic  des  Hugo 
von  St.  Viktor"  (Baeumker's Beitrtige,  Minister,  1906). 

2  De  script,  cap.  2  (Migne  175,  col.  u). 

3  De  script,  cap.  2  (Migne  175,  col.  10). 

4  Sumtna    sententiarum     (Migne    176,    col.    42-174);    also  under  title  of 
Tractatus  theologicus,  wrongly  ascribed  to  Hildebert  of  Lavardin,  in  Migne  171, 
col.  1067-1150. 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS    357 

by  such  danger-signals  of  contradiction  as  flare  from  the 
chapter  headings  of  the  Sic  et  non. 

The  corresponding  treatise  upon  profane  learning — the 
Eruditio  didascalica — is  of  greater  interest.1  It  commences 
in  elementary  fashion,  as  a  manual  of  study :  "  There  are 
two  things  by  which  we  gain  knowledge,  to  wit,  reading 
and  meditation  ;  reading  comes  first."  The  book  is  to  be 
a  guide  to  the  student  in  the  study  both  of  secular  and 
divine  writings  ;  it  teaches  how  to  study  the  artes,  and  then 
how  to  study  the  Scriptures.2  Even  in  this  manual,  Hugo 
shows  himself  a  meditative  soul,  and  one  who  seeks  to  base 
his  most  elementary  expositions  upon  the  nature  and  needs 
of  man.  The  mind,  says  he,  is  distracted  by  things  of 
sense,  and  does  not  know  itself.  It  is  renewed  through 
study,  so  that  it  learns  again  not  to  look  without  for  what 
itself  affords.  Learning  is  life's  solace,  which  he  who  finds 
is  happy,  and  he  who  makes  his  own  is  blessed.3 

For  Hugo,  philosophy  is  that  which  investigates  the 
rationes  of  things  human  and  divine,  seeking  ever  the  final 
wisdom,  which  is  knowledge  of  the  primaeval  ratio :  this 
distinguishes  philosophy  from  the  practical  sciences,  like 
agriculture :  it  follows  the  ratio ,  and  they  administer  the 
matter.  Again  and  again,  Hugo  returns  to  the  thought 
that  the  object  of  all  human  actiones  and  studia  is  to  restore 
the  integrity  of  our  nature  or  mitigate  its  weaknesses,  restore 
the  image  of  the  divine  similitude  in  us,  or  minister  to  the 
needs  of  life.  This  likeness  is  renewed  by  speculatio  veritatis, 
or  exercitium  virtutis* 

Such  is  a  pretty  broad  basis  of  theory  for  a  high  school 
manual.  Hugo  proceeds  to  set  forth  the  scheme,  rather 
than  the  substance,  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  pausing 
occasionally  to  admonish  the  reader  to  hold  no  science 
vile,  since  knowledge  always  is  good  ;  and  he  points  out 
that  all  knowledge  hangs  together  in  a  common  coher- 
ency. He  sketches 6  the  true  student's  life :  Whoever  seeks 

1  Migne  176,  col.  740-838. 

2  I  think  of  no  previous  work  so  closely  resembling  the  Enid,  didas.  as  the 
Institutiones  divinarum  et  saecularum  lectionum  of  Cassiodorus. 

3  Erud.  did.  i.  2. 

4  Here  one  sees  the  source  of  much  that  we  quoted  from  Vincent  de  Beauvais, 
ante,  Chapter  XXXV.,  I.  6  Lib.  iii.  cap.  13  syy. 


358  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOKVII 

learning,  must  not  neglect  discipline  !  He  must  be  humble, 
and  not  ashamed  to  learn  from  any  one  ;  he  must  observe 
decent  manners,  and  not  play  the  fool  and  make  faces  at 
lecturers  on  divinity,  for  thereby  he  insults  God.  Yea,  and 
let  him  mind  the  example  of  the  ancient  sages,  who  for 
learning's  sake  spurned  honours,  rejected  riches,  rejoiced  in 
insults,  deserted  the  companionship  of  men,  and  gave 
themselves  up  to  philosophy  in  desert  solitudes,  that  they 
might  be  more  free  for  meditation.  Diligent  search  for 
wisdom  in  quietude  becomes  a  scholar ;  and  likewise 
poverty,  and  likewise  exile  :  he  is  very  delicate  who  clings 
to  his  fatherland  ;  "  He  is  brave  to  whom  every  land  is 
home  (patria] ;  and  he  is  perfect  to  whom  the  whole  world 
is  an  exile  ! "  1 

Hugo  has  much  to  say  of  the  pulchritudo  and  the  decor 
of  the  creature-world.  But  with  him  the  world  and  its 
beauty  point  to  God.  One  should  observe  it  because  of 
its  suggestiveness,  the  visible  suggesting  the  invisible. 
Hugo  has  already  been  followed  in  his  argument  that  the 
world,  in  its  veriest  reality,  is  a  symbol.2  Here  we  follow 
him  along  his  path  of  knowledge,  which  leads  on  and 
upward  from  cogitatio,  through  meditatio,  to  contemplatio. 
The  steps  in  Hugo's  scheme  are  rational,  though  the 
summit  lies  beyond.  This  path  to  truth,  leading  on  from 
the  visible  symbol  to  the  unseen  power,  is  for  him  the 
reason  and  justification  of  study  ;  drawing  to  God  it  makes 
for  man's  salvation. 

Hugo  has  put  perhaps  his  most  lucid  exposition  of 
the  three  grades  of  knowledge  into  the  first  of  his  Nineteen 
Sermons  on  Ecclesiastes?  He  is  fond  of  certain  numbers, 
and  here  his  thought  revolves  in  categories  of  the  number 
three.  Solomon  composed  three  works,  the  Proverbs, 
Ecclesiastes,  and  Canticles.  In  the  first,  he  addresses  his 
son  paternally,  admonishing  him  to  pursue  virtue  and  shun 
vice  ;  in  the  second,  he  shows  the  grown  man  that  nothing 
in  the  world  is  stable ;  finally,  in  Canticles,  he  brings  the 
consummate  one,  who  has  spurned  the  world,  to  the 
Bridegroom's  arms. 

1  Erud.  did.  iii.  cap.  20.     Cf.  ante,  p.  63. 

2  Ante,  Chapter  XXVIII.  3  Migne,  Pat.  Lot.  175,  col.  115  sqq. 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS    359 

"  Three  are  the  modes  of  cognition  (visiones}  belonging  to  the 
rational  soul :  cogitation,  meditation,  contemplation.  It  is  cogita- 
tion when  the  mind  is  touched  with  the  ideas  of  things,  and  the 
thing  itself  is  by  its  image  presented  suddenly,  either  entering 
the  mind  through  sense  or  rising  from  memory.  Meditation  is 
the  assiduous  and  sagacious  revision  of  cogitation,  and  strives  to 
explain  the  involved,  and  penetrate  the  hidden.  Contemplation  is 
the  mind's  perspicacious  and  free  attention,  diffused  everywhere 
throughout  the  range  of  whatever  may  be  explored.  There  is  this 
difference  between  meditation  and  contemplation :  meditation 
relates  always  to  things  hidden  from  our  intelligence ;  contempla- 
tion relates  to  things  made  manifest,  either  according  to  their 
nature  or  our  capacity.  Meditation  always  is  occupied  with  some 
one  matter  to  be  investigated ;  contemplation  spreads  abroad  for 
the  comprehending  of  many  things,  even  the  universe.  Thus 
meditation  is  a  certain  inquisitive  power  of  the  mind,  sagaciously 
striving  to  look  into  the  obscure  and  unravel  the  perplexed. 
Contemplation  is  that  acumen  of  intelligence  which,  keeping  all 
things  open  to  view,  comprehends  all  with  clear  vision.  Thus 
contemplation  has  what  meditation  seeks. 

"  There  are  two  kinds  of  contemplation :  the  first  is  for 
beginners,  and  considers  creatures ;  the  kind  which  comes  later, 
belongs  to  the  perfect,  and  contemplates  the  Creator.  In  the 
Proverbs,  Solomon  proceeds  as  through  meditation.  In  Ecclesiastes 
he  ascends  to  the  first  grade  of  contemplation.  In  the  Song  of 
Songs  he  transports  himself  to  the  final  grade.  In  meditation 
there  is  a  wrestling  of  ignorance  with  knowledge ;  and  the  light  of 
truth  gleams  as  in  a  fog  of  error.  So  fire  is  kindled  with  difficulty 
in  a  heap  of  green  wood ;  but  then  fanned  with  stronger  breath, 
the  flame  burns  higher,  and  we  see  volumes  of  smoke  rolling  up, 
with  flame  flashing  through.  Little  by  little  the  damp  is  exhausted, 
and  the  leaping  fire  dispels  the  smoke.  Then  victrix  flamma 
darting  through  the  heap  of  crackling  wood,  springs  from  branch 
to  branch,  and  with  lambent  grasp  catches  upon  every  twig ;  nor 
does  it  rest  until  it  penetrates  everywhere  and  draws  into  itself  all 
that  it  finds  which  is  not  flame.  At  length  the  whole  combustible 
material  is  purged  of  its  own  nature  and  passes  into  the  similitude 
and  property  of  fire;  then  the  din  is  hushed,  and  the  voracious 
fire  having  subdued  all,  and  brought  all  into  its  own  likeness, 
composes  itself  to  a  high  peace  and  silence,  finding  nothing  more 
that  is  alien  or  opposed  to  itself.  First  there  was  fire  with  flame 
and  smoke;  then  fire  with  flame,  without  smoke;  and  at  last 
pure  fire  with  neither  flame  nor  smoke." 

So  the  victrix  flamma  achieves  the  three  stages  of 
spiritual  insight,  fighting  its  way  through  the  smoke  of 


360  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOKVII 

cogitation,  through  the  smoke  and  flame  of  meditation, 
and  at  last  through  the  flame  of  creature  contemplation, 
to  the  high  peace  of  God,  where  all  is  love's  ardent  vision, 
without  flame  or  smoke.  It  is  thus  through  the  grades  of 
knowledge  that  the  soul  reaches  at  last  that  fulness  of 
intelligence  which  may  be  made  perfect  and  inflamed  with 
love,  in  the  contemplation  of  God.  All  knowledge  is 
good  according  to  its  grade  ;  only  let  it  always  lead  on  to 
God,  and  with  humility.  Hugo  makes  his  principles  clear 
at  the  opening  of  his  commentary  on  the  Celestial  Hierarchy 
of  Dionysius.1 

"  The  Jews  seek  a  sign,  and  the  Greeks  wisdom.  There  was  a 
certain  wisdom  which  seemed  such  to  them  who  knew  not  the 
true  wisdom.  The  world  found  it,  and  began  to  be  puffed  up, 
thinking  itself  great  in  this.  Confiding  in  its  wisdom,  it  presumed, 
and  boasted  that  it  would  attain  the  highest  wisdom.  .  .  .  And 
it  made  itself  a  ladder  of  the  face  of  the  creation,  shining  toward 
the  invisible  things  of  the  Creator.  .  .  .  Then  those  things  which 
were  seen  were  known,  and  there  were  other  things  which  were 
not  known ;  and  through  those  which  were  manifest  they  expected 
to  reach  those  which  were  hidden ;  and  they  stumbled  and  fell 
into  the  falsehoods  of  their  own  imaginings.  ...  So  God  made 
foolish  the  wisdom  of  this  world;  and  He  pointed  out  another 
wisdom,  which  seemed  foolishness,  and  was  not.  For  it  preached 
Christ  crucified,  in  order  that  truth  might  be  sought  in  humility. 
But  the  world  despised  it,  wishing  to  contemplate  the  works  of 
God,  which  He  had  made  to  be  marvelled  at,  and  it  did  not  wish 
to  venerate  what  He  had  set  for  imitation.  Neither  did  it  look 
to  its  own  disease,  and  seek  a  medicine  with  piety ;  but  presuming 
on  a  false  health,  it  gave  itself  over  with  vain  curiosity  to  the  study 
of  alien  matters." 

This  study  made  the  wisdom  of  the  world,  whereby  it 
devised  the  arts  and  sciences  which  we  still  learn.  But  the 
world  in  its  pride  did  not  read  aright  the  great  book  of 
nature.  It  had  not  the  knowledge  of  the  true  Exemplar, 
for  the  sanitation  of  its  inner  vision,  to  wit,  the  flesh  of  the 
eternal  Word  in  the  humanity  of  Jesus. 

"  There  were  two  images  (simulacra}  set  for  man,  in  which  he 
might  perceive  the  unseen :  one  consisting  of  nature,  the  other  of 
grace.  The  former  image  was  the  face  of  this  world ;  the  latter 

1   Migne,  Pat.  Lot.  175,  col.  923  sqq. 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS     361 

was  the  humanity  of  the  Word.  And  God  is  shown  in  both,  but 
He  is  not  understood  in  both;  since  the  appearance  of  nature 
discloses  the  artificer,  but  cannot  illuminate  the  eyes  of  him  who 
contemplates  it." 

Hugo  then  classifies  the  sciences  in  the  usual  Aristotelian 
way,  and  shows  that  Christian  theology  is  the  end  of  all 
philosophy.  The  first  part  of  philosophia  theorica  is 
mathematics,  which  speculates  as  to  the  visible  forms  of 
visible  things.  The  second  is  physics,  which  scrutinizes  the 
invisible  causes  of  visible  things.  The  third,  theology,  alone 
contemplates  invisible  substances  and  their  invisible  natures. 
Herein  is  a  certain  progression  ;  and  the  mind  mounts  to 
knowledge  of  the  true.  Through  the  visible  forms  of  visible 
things,  it  comes  to  invisible  causes  of  visible  things  ;  and 
through  the  invisible  causes  of  visible  things,  it  ascends  to 
invisible  substances,  and  to  knowing  their  natures.  This 
is  the  summit  of  philosophy  and  the  perfection  of  truth. 
In  this,  as  already  said,  the  wise  of  this  world  were  made 
foolish  ;  because  proceeding  by  the  natural  document  alone, 
making  account  only  of  the  elements  and  appearance  of  the 
world,  they  missed  the  instructive  instances  of  Grace  :  which 
in  spite  of  humble  guise  afford  the  clearer  insight  into 
truth. 

This  is  Hugo's  scheme  of  knowledge  ;  it  begins  with 
cogitatio>  then  proceeds  through  meditatio  to  contemplatio 
of  the  creature  world,  and  finally  of  the  Creator.  The  arts 
and  sciences,  as  well  as  the  face  of  nature,  afford  a  simu- 
lacrum of  the  unseen  Power  ;  but  all  this  knowledge  by 
itself  will  not  bring  man  to  the  perfect  knowledge  of  God. 
For  this  he  needs  the  exemplaria  of  Grace,  shown  through 
the  incarnation  of  the  Word.  Only  by  virtue  of  this  added 
means,  may  man  attain  to  perfect  contemplation  of  the 
truth  of  God.  That  end  and  final  summit  is  beyond 
reason's  reach  ;  but  the  attainment  of  rational  knowledge 
makes  part  of  the  path  thither.  Keen  as  was  Hugo's 
intellectual  nature,  his  interest  in  reason  was  coupled  with 
a  deeper  interest  in  that  which  reason  might  neither  include 
nor  understand.  The  intellect  does  not  include  the  emotional 
and  immediately  desiderative  elements  of  human  nature  ; 
neither  can  it  comprehend  the  infinite  which  is  God ;  and 


362  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

Hugo  drew  toward  God  not  only  through  his  intellect,  but 
likewise  through  his  desiderative  nature,  with  its  yearnings 
of  religious  love.  That  love  with  him  was  rational,  since 
its  object  satisfied  his  mind  as  far  as  his  mind  could 
comprehend  it. 

So  Hugo's  intellectual  interests  were  connected  with  the 
emotional  side  of  human  nature,  and  also  led  up  to  what 
transcended  reason.  Thus  they  led  to  what  was  a  mystery 
because  too  great  for  human  reason,  and  they  included 
that  which  also  was  somewhat  of  a  mystery  to  reason 
because  lying  partly  outside  its  sphere.  Hugo  is  an  instance 
of  the  intellectual  nature  which  will  not  rest  in  reason's  pro- 
vince, but  feels  equally  impelled  to  find  expression  for  matters 
that  either  exceed  the  mind,  or  do  not  altogether  belong  to 
it.  Such  an  intellect  is  impelled  to  formulate  its  convictions 
in  regard  to  these  ;  its  negative  conviction  that  it  cannot 
comprehend  them,  and  why  it  cannot  ;  and  its  more  positive 
conviction  of  their  value — of  the  absolute  worth  of  God, 
and  of  man's  need  of  Him,  and  of  the  love  and  fear  by 
which  men  may  come  close  to  Him,  or  avoid  His  wrath. 

What  Hugo  has  had  to  say  as  to  cogitation,  meditation, 
and  contemplation,  represents  his  analysis  of  the  stages  by 
which  a  sufficing  sense  may  be  reached  of  the  Creator  and 
His  world  of  creature-kind.  In  this  final  wisdom  and  ardour 
of  contemplation,  both  human  reason  and  human  love  have 
part.  The  intellect  advances  along  its  lines,  considering 
the  world,  and  drawing  inferences  as  to  the  unseen  Being 
who  created  and  sustains  it.  Mind's  unaided  power  will 
not  reach.  But  by  the  grace  of  God,  supremely  manifested 
in  the  Incarnation,  the  man  is  humbled,  and  his  heart  is 
touched  and  drawn  to  love  the  power  of  the  divine  pity  and 
humility.  The  lesson  of  the  Incarnation  and  its  guiding 
grace,  emboldens  the  heart  and  enlightens  the  mind  ;  and 
the  man's  faculties  are  strengthened  and  uplifted  to  the 
contemplation  of  God,  wherein  the  mind  is  satisfied  and  the 
heart  at  rest. 

We  have  here  the  elements  of  piety,  intellectual  and 
devotional.  Hugo  is  an  example  of  their  union  ;  they  also 
preserve  their  equal  weight  in  Aquinas.  But  because  Hugo 
emphasizes  the  limitations  of  the  intellect,  and  so  ardently 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS     363 

recognizes  the  heart's  yearning  and  immediacy  of  appercep- 
tion, he  is  what  is  styled  a  mystic  ;  a  term  which  we  are 
now  in  a  position  to  consider,  and  to  some  extent  exchange 
for  other  phrases  of  more  definite  significance.1 

Quite  to  avoid  the  term  is  not  possible,  inasmuch  as  the 
conception  certainly  includes  what  is  mysterious  because 
unknowable  through  reason.  For  it  includes  a  sense  of 
the  supreme,  a  sense  of  God,  who  is  too  great  for  human 
reason  to  comprehend,  and  therefore  a  mystery.  And  it 
includes  a  yearning  toward  God,  the  desire  of  Him,  and  the 
feeling  of  love.  The  last  is  also  mysterious,  in  that  it  has 
not  exclusive  part  with  reason,  but  springs  as  well  from 
feeling.  Yet  the  essence  or  nature  of  this  spirit  of  piety 
which  we  would  analyse,  consists  in  consciousness  of  the 
reality  of  the  object  of  its  yearning  or  devotion.  Not 
altogether  through  induction  or  deduction,  but  with  an 
irrational  immediacy  of  conviction,  it  feels  and  knows  its 
object.  In  place  of  the  knowledge  which  is  mediated  through 
rational  processes,  is  substituted  a  conviction  upheld  by 
yearning,  love's  conviction  indeed,  of  the  reality  and  presence 
of  that  which  is  all  the  greater  and  more  worthy  because  it 
baffles  reason.  And  the  final  goal  attainable  by  this 
mystic  love  is,  even  as  the  goal  of  other  love,  union  with 
the  Beloved. 

The  mystic  spirit  is  an  essential  part  of  all  piety  or 
religion,  which  relates  always  and  forever  to  the  rationally 
unknown,  and  therefore  mysterious.  Without  a  consciousness 
of  mystery,  there  can  be  neither  piety  nor  religion.  Nor  can 
there  be  piety  without  some  devotion  to  God,  nor  the 
deepest  and  most  ardent  forms  of  piety,  without  fervent 
love  of  God.  This  devotion  and  this  love  supply  strength 
of  conviction,  creating  a  realness  of  communion  with 
the  divine,  and  an  assurance  of  the  soul's  rest  and  peace 
therein.  But  that  the  intellect  has  part,  Hugo  abundantly 
demonstrates.  One  must  have  perceptions,  and  thought's 
severest  wrestlings — cogitatio  and  meditatio — before  reaching 
that  first  stage  of  wide  and  sure  intelligence,  which  relates 

1  The  following  consideration  of  the  mysticism  of  Christian  theologians  is 
not  intended  to  include  other  forms  of  "mysticism  ''  (Pantheistic,  poetical,  patho- 
logical, neurotic,  intellectual,  and  sensuous)  within  or  without  the  Christian  pale. 


364  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

to  the  creature  world,  and  affords  a  broad  basis  of  assurance, 
whence  at  last  the  soul  shall  spring  to  God.  Intellectual 
perceptions  and  rational  knowledge,  and  all  the  mind's 
puttings  together  of  its  data  in  inductions  and  deductions 
and  constructions,  form  a  basis  for  contemplation,  and  yield 
material  upon  which  the  emotional  side  of  human  nature 
may  exercise  itself  in  yearning  and  devotion.  Herein  the 
constructive  imagination  works  ;  which  is  intellectual  faculty 
illuminated  and  impelled  by  the  emotions. 

This  spirit  actualizes  itself  in  the  power  and  scope  of 
its  resultant  conviction,  by  which  it  makes  real  to  itself  the 
qualities,  attributes,  and  actions  of  its  object,  God,  and  the 
nature  of  man's  relationship  or  union  with  the  divine.  In 
its  final  energy,  when  only  partly  conscious  of  its  intellectual 
inductions,  it  discards  syllogisms,  quite  dissatisfied  with  their 
devious  and  hesitating  approach.  Instead,  by  the  power  of 
love,  it  springs  directly  to  its  God.  Nevertheless  the  soul 
which  feels  the  inadequacy  of  reason  even  to  voice  the 
soul's  desires,  will  seek  means  of  expression  wherein  reason 
still  will  play  a  submerged  part.  The  soul  is  seeking  to 
express  what  is  not  altogether  expressible  in  direct  and 
rational  statement.  It  seeks  adumbrations,  partial  unveilings 
of  its  sentiments,  which  shall  perhaps  make  up  in  warmth 
of  colour  what  they  lack  in  definiteness  of  line.  In  fine,  it 
seeks  symbols.  Such  symbolism  must  be  large  and  elastic, 
in  order  to  shadow  forth  the  soul's  relations  with  the  Infinite  ; 
it  must  also  be  capable  of  carrying  passion,  that  it  may 
satisfy  the  soul's  craving  to  give  voice  to  its  great  love. 

In  Greek  thought  as  well  as  in  the  Hellenizing  Judaism 
of  a  Philo,  symbolism,  or  more  specifically  speaking,  alle- 
gorical interpretation,  was  obviously  apologetic,  seeking  to 
cloud  in  naturalistic  interpretations  the  doings  of  the  rather 
over-human  gods  of  Greece.1  But  it  sprang  also  from  the 
unresting  need  of  man  to  find  expression  for  that  sense  of 
things  which  will  not  fit  definite  statement.  This  was  the 
need  which  became  creative,  and  of  necessity  fancifully 
creative,  with  Plato.  Though  he  would  have  nothing  to  do 
with  falsifying  apologetics,  all  the  more  he  felt  the  need  of 
allegories,  to  suggest  what  his  dialectic  could  not  formulate. 

1  Ante,  p.  42  sqq. 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS     365 

In  the  early  times  of  the  Church  militant  of  Christ,  alle- 
gorical interpretation  was  exploited  to  defend  the  Faith  ;  in 
the  later  patristic  period,  the  Faith  had  so  far  triumphed, 
that  allegory  as  a  sword  of  defence  and  attack  might  be 
sheathed,  or  just  allowed  to  glitter  now  and  then  half-drawn. 
But  piety's  other  need,  with  increasing  energy,  compelled 
the  use  of  symbols  and  articulate  allegory  to  express  the 
directly  inexpressible.  Thereafter  through  the  Middle  Ages, 
while  the  use  of  allegory  as  a  defence  against  the  Gentiles 
slumbered,  so  much  more  the  other  need  of  it,  and  the  sense 
of  the  universal  symbolism  of  material  things,  filled  the 
minds  of  men  ;  and  in  age-long  answer  to  this  need,  alle- 
gory, symbolism,  became  part  of  the  very  spirit  of  the 
mediaeval  time. 

Thus  it  became  the  universal  vehicle  of  pious  expression : 
it  may  be  said  almost  to  have  co-extended  with  all  mediaeval 
piety.  It  was  ardently  loving,  as  with  St.  Bernard ;  it 
might  be  filled  with  scarlet  passion,  as  with  Mechthild  of 
Magdeburg  ;  or  it  might  be  used  in  the  self-conscious,  and 
yet  inspired  vision -pictures  of  Hildegard  of  Bingen.  And 
indeed  with  almost  any  mediaeval  man  or  woman,  it  might 
keep  talking,  as  a  way  of  speech,  obtrusively,  conventionally, 
ad  nauseam.  For  indeed  in  treatise  after  treatise  even  of 
the  better  men,  allegory  seems  on  the  one  hand  to  become 
very  foolish  and  perverse,  banal,  intolerably  talking  on  and 
on  beyond  the  point ;  or  again  we  sense  its  mechanism, 
hear  the  creaking  of  its  jaws,  while  no  living  voice  emerges, — 
and  we  suspect  that  the  mystery  of  life,  if  it  may  not  be 
compassed  by  direct  statement,  also  lies  deeper  than  alle- 
gorical conventions. 

Hugo's  great  De  sacramentis  showed  the  equipoise  of 
intellectual  and  pietistic  interests  in  him,  and  the  Platonic 
quality  of  his  mind's  sure  sense  of  the  reality  of  the  super- 
sensual.1  Other  treatises  of  his  show  his  yearning  piety,  and 
the  Augustinian  quality  of  his  soul,  "  made  toward  thee,  and 
unquiet  till  it  rests  in  thee."  The  De  area  Noe  morali?  that 
is  to  say,  the  Ark  of  Noah  viewed  in  its  moral  significance, 
is  charming  in  its  spiritual  refinement,  and  interesting  in  its 

i  Ante,  Chapter  XXVIII. 
2  Migne,  Pat.  Lat.  176,  col.  617-680. 


366  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

catholic   intellectual    reflections.      The   Prologue  presents  a 
situation  : 

"As  I  was  sitting  once  among  the  brethren,  and  they  were 
asking  questions,  and  I  replying,  and  many  matters  had  been  cited 
and  adduced,  it  came  about  that  all  of  us  at  once  began  to  marvel 
vehemently  at  the  unstableness  and  disquiet  of  the  human  heart ; 
and  we  began  to  sigh.  Then  they  pleaded  with  me  that  I 
would  show  them  the  cause  of  such  whirlings  of  thought  in  the 
human  heart ;  and  they  besought  me  to  set  forth  by  what  art  or 
exercise  of  discipline  this  evil  might  be  removed.  I  indeed 
wished  to  satisfy  my  brethren,  so  far  as  God  might  aid  me,  and 
untie  the  knot  of  their  questions,  both  by  authority  and  by 
argument.  I  knew  it  would  please  them  most  if  I  should  compose 
my  matter  to  read  to  them  at  table. 

"  It  was  my  plan  to  show  first  whence  arise  such  violent  changes 
in  man's  heart,  and  then  how  the  mind  may  be  led  to  keep  itself  in 
stable  peace.  And  although  I  had  no  doubt  that  this  is  the  proper 
work  of  grace,  rather  than  of  human  labour,  nevertheless  I  know 
that  God  wishes  us  to  co-operate.  Besides  it  is  well  to  know  the 
magnitude  of  our  weakness  and  the  mode  of  its  repairing,  since  so 
much  the  deeper  will  be  our  gratitude. 

"The  first  man  was  so  created,  that  if  he  had  not  sinned,  he 
would  always  have  beheld  in  present  contemplation  his  Creator's 
face,  and  by  always  seeing  Him,  would  have  loved  Him  always,  and, 
by  loving,  would  always  have  clung  close  to  Him,  and  by  clinging 
to  Him  who  was  eternal,  would  have  possessed  life  without  end. 
Evidently  the  one  true  good  of  man  was  perfect  knowledge  of  his 
Creator.  But  he  was  driven  from  the  face  of  the  Lord,  since  for 
his  sin  he  was  struck  with  the  blindness  of  ignorance,  and  passed 
from  that  intimate  light  of  contemplation  ;  and  he  inclined  his 
mind  to  earthly  desires,  as  he  began  to  forget  the  sweetness  of  the 
divine.  Thus  he  was  made  a  wanderer  and  fugitive  over  the  earth. 
A  wanderer  indeed,  because  of  disordered  concupiscence ;  and  a 
fugitive,  through  guilty  conscience,  which  feels  every  man's  hand 
against  it.  For  every  temptation  will  overcome  the  man  who  has 
lost  God's  aid. 

"  So  man's  heart  which  had  been  kept  secure  by  divine  love, 
and  one  by  loving  one,  afterwards  began  to  flow  here  and  there 
through  earthly  desires.  For  the  mind  which  knows  not  to  love  its 
true  good,  is  never  stable  and  never  rests.  Hence  restlessness,  and 
ceaseless  labour,  and  disquiet,  until  the  man  turns  and  adheres  to 
Him.  The  sick  heart  wavers  and  quivers  ;  the  cause  of  its  disease 
is  love  of  the  world ;  the  remedy,  the  love  of  God." 

Hugo's  object  is  to  give  rest  to  the  restless  heart,  by 
directing  its  love  to  God.  One  still  bears  in  mind  his  three 


CH.XXXVI  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS    367 

plains  of  knowledge,  forming  perhaps  the  three  stages  of 
ascent,  at  the  top  of  which  is  found  the  knowledge  that  turns 
to  divine  contemplation  and  love.  There  may  be  a  direct 
and  simple  love  of  God  for  simple  souls  ;  but  for  the  man 
of  mind,  knowledge  precedes  love. 

"  In  two  ways  God  dwells  in  the  human  heart,  to  wit,  through 
knowledge  and  through  love  ;  yet  the  dwelling  is  one,  since  every 
one  who  knows  Him,  loves,  and  no  one  can  love  without  knowing. 
Knowledge  through  cognition  of  the  Faith  erects  the  structure  ;  love 
through  virtue,  paints  the  edifice  with  colour." l 

Then  make  a  habitation  for  God  in  thy  heart.  This  is 
the  great  matter,  and  indeed  all :  for  this,  Scripture  exists, 
and  the  world  was  made,  and  God  became  flesh,  through 
His  humility  making  man  sublime.  The  Ark  of  Noah  is 
the  type  of  this  spiritual  edifice,  as  it  is  also  the  type  of  the 
Church. 

The  piety  and  allegory  of  this  work  rise  as  from  a  basis 
of  knowledge.  The  allegory  indeed  is  drawn  out  and  out, 
until  it  seems  to  become  sheer  circumlocution.  This  was 
the  mediaeval  way,  and  Hugo's  too,  alas !  We  will  not 
follow  further  in  this  treatise,  nor  take  up  his  De  area  Noe 
mystica?  which  carries  out  into  still  further  detail  the 
symbolism  of  the  Ark,  and  applies  it  to  the  Church  and  the 
people  of  God.  Hugo  has  also  left  a  colloquy  between  man 
and  his  soul  on  the  true  love,  which  lies  in  spiritual 
meditation.8  But  it  is  clear  that  the  reaches  of  Hugo's 
yearning  are  still  grounded  in  intellectual  considerations, 
though  these  may  be  no  longer  present  in  the  mind  of  him 
whose  consciousness  is  transformed  to  love. 

One  may  discern  the  same  progression,  from  painful 
thought  to  surer  contemplation,  and  thence  to  the  heart's 
devoted  communion,  in  him  whom  we  have  called  the  Thor 
and  Loki  of  the  Church.  No  twelfth -century  soul  loved 
God  more  zealously  than  St.  Bernard.  He  was  not  strong 
in  abstract  reasoning.  His  mind  needed  the  compulsion  of 

1  De  area  Noe  morali,  \.  cap.  2  (Migne  176,  col.  621). 

2  Migne  176,  col.  681-703.     With  Hugo's  pupil,  Richard  of  St.  Victor,  this 
constant   allegory,   especially  the  constant  allegorical  use  of  Scripture   names, 
becomes  pedantic,  frecieux,  impossible.     See  e.g.  his  Benjamin  major  in  Migne 
196,  col.  64-202. 

3  De  arrha  animae,  Migne  176,  col.  951-970. 


368  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

the  passions  to  move  it  to  sublime  conclusions.  Commonly 
he  is  dubbed  a  mystic.  But  his  piety  and  love  of  God 
poise  themselves  on  a  basis  of  consideration  before  springing 
to  soar  on  other  wings.  In  his  De  consideration^  Bernard 
explains  that  word  in  the  sense  given  by  Hugo  to  meditatio, 
while  he  uses  contemplatio  very  much  as  Hugo  does.  It 
applies  to  things  that  have  become  certain  to  the  mind, 
while  "  consideratio  is  busy  investigating.  In  this  sense 
contemplatio  may  be  defined  as  the  true  and  certain  intuition 
of  the  mind  (intuitus  animt)  regarding  anything,  or  the  sure 
apprehension  of  the  true :  while  consideratio  is  thought 
intently  searching,  or  the  mind's  endeavour  to  track  out  the 
true."  2 

Contemplatio^  even  though  it  forget  itself  in  ecstasy,  must 
be  based  on  prior  consideration ;  then  it  may  take  wings  of 
its  own,  or  rather  (with  orthodox  Hugo  and  Bernard)  wings 
of  grace,  and  fly  to  the  bosom  of  its  God.  This  flight  is  the 
immediacy  of  conviction  and  the  ecstasy  which  follows. 
One  may  even  perceive  the  thinking  going  on  during  the 
soul's  outpour  of  love.  For  the  mind  still  supports  the 
soul's  ardour  with  reasonings,  original  or  borrowed,  as 
appears  in  the  second  sermon  of  that  long  series  preached 
by  Bernard  on  Canticles  to  his  own  spiritual  elite  of 
Clairvaux.3  The  saintly  orator  is  yearning,  yearning  for 
Christ  Himself;  he  will  have  naught  of  Moses  or  Isaiah; 
nor  does  he  desire  dreams,  or  care  for  angels'  visits  :  ipse, 
ipse  me  osculetur,  cries  his  soul  in  the  words  of  Canticles — let 
Him  kiss  me.  The  phrasing  seems  symbolical  ;  but  the 
yearning  is  direct,  and  at  least  rhetorically  overmastering. 
The  emotion  is  justified  by  its  reasons.  They  lie  in  the 
personality  of  Christ  and  Bernard's  love  of  Him,  rising  from 
all  his  knowledge  of  Him,  even  from  his  experience  of  Jesus' 
whisperings  to  the  soul.  He  knows  how  vastly  Jesus  sur- 
passes the  human  prophets  who  prefigured  or  foretold  Him : 
ipsos  longe  superat  Jesus  meus — the  word  meus  is  love's  very 
articulation.  The  orator  cries :  "  Listen  !  Let  the  kissing 

1  Migne  182,  col.  727-808.     A  translation  is  announced  by  George  Lewis  in 
the  Oxford  Library  of  Translations. 

2  De  consid.  lib.  ii.  cap.  2. 

3  Migne  183,  col.  7895^.     Chapter  XVII.,  ant*,  is  devoted  to  Bernard,  and 
his  letters  and  sermons. 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS     369 

mouth  be  the  Word  assuming  flesh  ;  and  the  mouth  kissed 
be  the  flesh  which  is  assumed ;  then  the  kiss  which  is 
consummated  between  them  is  the  persona  compacted  of 
the  two,  to  wit,  the  mediator  of  God  and  men,  the  man 
Christ  Jesus." 

This  identical  allegory  goes  back  to  Origen's  Commentary 
on  Canticles.  Bernard  has  kindled  it  with  an  intimate  love 
of  Jesus,  which  is  not  Origen's.  But  the  thought  explains 
and  justifies  Bernard's  desire  to  be  kissed  by  the  kiss  of  His 
mouth,  and  so  to  be  infolded  in  the  divine  love  which  "  gave 
His  only-begotten  Son,"  and  also  became  flesh.  Os  osculans 
signifies  the  Incarnation  :  one  realizes  the  emotional  power 
which  that  saving  thought  would  take  through  such  a 
metaphor.  At  the  end  of  his  sermon,  Bernard  sums  up  the 
conclusion,  so  that  his  hearers  may  carry  it  away : 

"It  is  plain  that  this  holy  kiss  was  a  grace  needed  by  the 
world,  to  give  faith  to  the  weak,  and  satisfy  the  desire  of  the  perfect. 
The  kiss  itself  is  none  other  than  the  mediator  of  God  and  men,  the 
man  Christ  Jesus,  who  with  the  Father  and  the  Holy  Spirit  lives 
and  reigns  God,  per  omnia  saecula  saeculorum.  Amen." 


Ill 

There  is  small  propriety  in  speaking  of  these  men  of  the 
first  half  of  the  twelfth  century  as  Platonists  or  Aristotelians  ; 
nor  is  there  great  interest  in  trying  to  find  in  Plato  or 
Aristotle  or  Plotinus  the  specific  origin  of  any  of  their 
thoughts.  They  were  apt  to  draw  on  the  source  nearest 
and  most  convenient ;  and  one  must  remember  that  their 
immediate  philosophic  antecedents  were  not  the  distinct 
systems  of  Plato  and  Aristotle  and  Plotinus,  but  rather  the 
late  pagan  eras  of  eclecticism,  followed  by  that  strongly 
motived  syntheticism  of  the  Church  Fathers  which  selected 
whatever  might  accord  with  their  Christian  scheme.  So 
Abaelard  must  not  be  called  an  Aristotelian.  Neither  he 
nor  his  contemporaries  knew  what  an  Aristotelian  was,  and 
when  they  called  Abaelard  Peripateticus,  they  meant  one 
skilled  in  the  logic  which  was  derived  from  the  simpler 
treatises  of  Aristotle's  Organon.  Nor  will  we  call  Hugo  a 
VOL.  II  2  B 


370  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

Platonist,  in  spite  of  his  fine  affinities  with  Plato  ;  for  many 
of  Hugo's  thoughts,  his  classification  of  the  sciences  for 
example,  pointed  back  to  Aristotle. 

Abaelard,  Hugo,  St.  Bernard  suggest  the  triangulation 
of  the  epoch's  intellectual  interests.  Peter  Lombard,  some- 
what their  junior,  presents  its  compend  of  accepted  and 
partly  digested  theology.  He  took  his  method  from 
Abaelard,  and  drew  whole  chapters  of  his  work  from  Hugo  ; 
but  his  great  source,  which  was  also  theirs,  was  Augustine. 
The  Lombard  was,  and  was  to  be,  a  representative  man  ;  for 
his  Sentences  brought  together  the  ultimate  problems  which 
exercised  the  minds  of  the  men  of  his  time  and  after. 

The  early  and  central  decades  of  the  twelfth  century 
offer  other  persons  who  may  serve  to  round  out  our  general 
notion  of  the  character  of  the  intellectual  interests  which 
occupied  the  period  before  the  rediscovery  of  Aristotle,  that 
is,  of  the  substantial  Aristotelian  encyclopaedia  of  knowledge. 
Among  such  Adelard  of  Bath  (England)  was  somewhat  older 
than  Abaelard.  His  keen  pursuit  of  knowledge  made  him 
one  of  its  early  pilgrims  to  Spain  and  Greece.  He  compiled 
a  book  of  Quaestiones  naturales,  and  another  called  De  eodem 
et  diverse*  in  which  he  struggled  with  the  problem  of  uni- 
versals,  and  with  palpable  problems  of  psychology.  His 
cosmology  shows  a  genial  culling  from  the  Timaeus  fragment 
of  Plato,  and  such  other  bits  of  Greek  philosophy  as  he  had 
access  to. 

Adelard  was  influenced  by  the  views  of  men  who  taught 
or  studied  at  Chartres.  Bernard  of  Chartres,  the  first  of  the 
great  Chartrian  teachers  of  the  early  twelfth  century,2  wrote 
on  Porphyry,  and  after  his  death  was  called  by  John  of  Salis- 
bury perfectissimus  inter  Platonicos  saeculi  nostri.  He  was 
one  of  those  extreme  realists  whose  teachings  might  bear 
pantheistic  fruit  in  his  disciples  ;  he  had  also  a  Platonistic 
imagination,  leading  him  to  see  in  Nature  a  living  organism. 
Bernard's  younger  brother,  Thierry,  also  called  of  Chartres, 
extended  his  range  of  studies,  and  compiled  numerous  works 
on  natural  knowledge,  indicating  his  wide  reading  and  recep- 
tive nature.  His  realism  brought  him  very  close  to  pantheism, 

1  Ed.  by  Willner  {Baeumker's  Bcitrage>  Miinster,  1903). 
2  See  ante,  Chapter  XXX.,  i. 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS     371 

which   indeed    flowered  poetically  in  his  admirer   or   pupil, 
Bernard  Silvestris  of  Tours. 

If  we  should  analyze  the  contents  of  the  latter's  De 
mundi  universitate,  it  might  be  necessary  to  affirm  that  the 
author  was  a  dualistic  thinker,  in  that  he  recognized  two  first 
principles,  God  and  matter  ;  and  also  that  he  was  a  pantheist, 
because  of  the  way  in  which  he  sees  in  God  the  source  of 
Nature :  "  This  mind  (nous)  of  the  supreme  God  is  soul 
(intellectus),  and  from  its  divinity  Nature  is  born."1  One 
should  not,  however,  drive  the  heterogeneous  thoughts  of 
these  twelfth-century  people  to  their  opposite  conclusions. 
A  moderate  degree  of  historical  insight  should  prevent  our 
interpreting  their  gleanings  from  the  past  by  formulas  of  our 
own  greater  knowledge.  Doubtless  their  books — Hugo's  as 
well  as  Thierry's  and  Bernard  Silvester's — have  enough  of 
contradiction  if  we  will  probe  for  it  with  a  spirit  not  their 
own.  But  if  we  will  see  with  their  eyes  and  perceive  with 
their  feelings,  we  shall  find  ourselves  resting  with  each  of 
them  in  some  unity  of  personal  temperament ;  and  t/iat, 
rather  than  any  half-borrowed  thought,  is  Hugo  or  Thierry 
or  Bernard  Silvestris.  Silvester's  book,  De  mundi  universi- 
tate,  sive  Megacosmus  et  microcosmus,  is  a  half  poem,  like 
Boethius's  De  consolatione  and  a  number  of  mediaeval  pro- 
ductions to  which  there  has  been  occasion  to  allude.  It  is 
fruitless  to  dissect  such  a  composite  of  prose  and  verse.  In 
it  Natura  speaks  to  Nous,  and  then  Nous  to  Natura ;  the 
four  elements  come  into  play,  and  nine  hierarchies  of  angels  ; 
the  stars  in  their  firmaments,  and  the  genesis  of  things  on 
earth ;  Physics  and  her  daughters,  Theorica  and  Practica, 
and  all  the  figures  of  Greek  mythology.  An  analysis  of 
such  a  book  will  turn  it  to  nonsense,  and  destroy  the  breath 
of  that  twelfth-century  temperament  which  loved  to  gather 
driftwood  from  the  wreckage  of  the  ancient  world  of  thought. 
Thus  perhaps  they  expected  to  draw  to  themselves,  even 
from  the  pagan  flotsam,  some  congenial  explanation  of  the 
universe  and  man. 


1  Bernardus  Silvestris,  De  mundi  universitate,  i.  2  (ed.  by  Barach  and 
Wrobel  ;  Innsbruck,  1876).  As  to  Bernard  Silvestris,  see  Clerval,  Ecoles  de 
Chartres  au  moyen  dge,  p.  259  sqq.  and  passim  ;  also  Haur&u  (who  confuses 
him  with  Bernard  of  Chartres),  Hist,  de  la  phil.  scholastique,  ii.  407  sqq. 


372  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

(A  far  more  acute  thinker  was  Gilbert  de  la  Porr^e,1  who 
taught  at  Chartres  for  a  number  of  years,  before  advancing 
upon  Paris  in  1141.  He  next  became  Bishop  of  Poictiers,  and 
died  in  1154.  Like  Abaelard,  he  was  primarily  a  logician, 
and  occupied  himself  with  the  problem  of  universals,  taking 
a  position  not  so  different  from  Abaelard's.  Like  Abaelard 
also,  Gilbert  was  brought  to  task  before  a  council,  in  which 
St  Bernard  sought  to  be  the  guiding,  scilicet,  condemning 
spirit.  But  the  condemnation  was  confined  to  certain  sen- 
tences, which  when  cut  from  their  context  and  presented  in 
distorting  isolation,  the  author  willingly  sacrificed  to  the 
flames.  He  refused,  some  time  afterwards,  to  discuss  his 
views  privately  with  the  Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  saying  that  the 
latter  was  too  inexpert  a  theologian  to  understand  them. 
Gilbert's  most  famous  work,  De  sex  principiis,  attempted  to 
complete  the  last  six  of  Aristotle's  ten  Categories,  which  the 
philosopher  had  treated  cursorily ;  it  was  almost  to  rival  the 
work  of  the  Stagirite  in  authority,  for  instance,  with  Albertus 
Magnus,  who  wrote  a  Commentary  upon  it  in  the  same 
spirit  with  which  he  commented  on  the  logical  treatises  of 
the  Organon. 

In  the  same  year  with  Gilbert  (1154)  died  a  man  of 
different  mental  tendencies,  William  of  Conches,2  who  like- 
wise had  been  a  pupil  of  Bernard  of  Chartres.  He  was  for 
a  time  the  tutor  of  Henry  Plantagenet.  William  was 
interested  in  natural  knowledge,  and  something  of  a  humanist. 
He  made  a  Commentary  on  the  Timaeus,  and  wrote  various 
works  on  the  philosophy  of  Nature,  in  which  he  wavered 
around  an  atomistic  explanation  of  the  world,  yet  held  fast 
to  the  Biblical  Creation,  to  save  his  orthodoxy.  He  also 
pursued  the  study  of  medicine,  which  was  a  specialty  at 
Chartres  ;  through  the  treatises  of  Constantinus  Africanus 3 
he  had  some  knowledge  of  the  pathological  theories  of  Galen 
and  Hippocrates.  For  his  interest  in  physical  knowledge, 

1  See    Haureau,    Hist.    etc.    ii.    447-472 ;    R.    L.    Poole,    Illustrations  oj 
Mediaeval  Thought,  chap,  vi      His  Liber  de  sex  principiis  is  printed  in  Migne 
1 88,  col.  1257-1270. 

2  Werner,  "  Die  Kosmologie  und  Naturlehre  des  scholastischen  Mittelalters, 
mil  specialler  Beziehung  auf  Wilhelm  von  Conches,"  Sitzungsb.  K.  Akad.,  philos. 
Klassc,   1873,    Bd.  Ixxv.  ;    Haureau,   Hist.   etc.  i.   431-446;    ibid.   Singular-He's 
littiraires,  etc.  *  Ante,  VoL  L,  p.  251. 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS     373 

he  may  be  regarded  as  a  precursor  of  Roger  Bacon.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  was  a  humanist  in  his  strife  against  those 
"  Cornificiani "  who  would  know  no  more  Latin  than  was 
needful  ; l  and  he  compiled  from  the  pagan  moralists  a  sort  of 
Summa.  It  is  called,  in  fact,  a  Summa  moralium  philoso- 
phorum  (an  interesting  title,  connecting  it  with  the  Christian 
Summae  sententiarutn)?  It  treats  the  virtues  under  the 
head  of  de  honesto  ;  and  under  that  of  de  utile,  reviews  the 
other  good  things  of  mind,  body,  and  estate.  It  also  dis- 
cusses whether  there  may  be  a  conflict  between  the  twnestum 
and  the  utile. 

These  men  of  the  first  half  of  the  twelfth  century  lived 
before  the  new  revealing  of  the  Aristotelian  philosophy  and 
natural  knowledge  coming  at  the  century's  close.  Their 
muster  is  finally  completed  by  two  younger  men,  the  one  an 
Englishman  and  the  other  a  Lowlander.  The  youthful  years 
of  both  synchronize  with  the  old  age  of  the  men  of  whom 
we  have  been  speaking.  For  John  of  Salisbury  was  born 
not  far  from  the  year  1115,  and  died  in  1 1 80  ;  and  Alanus 
de  Insulis  (Lille)  was  probably  born  in  1128,  and  lived  to 
the  beginning  of  the  next  century.  They  are  spiritually 
connected  with  the  older  men  because  they  were  taught  by 
them,  and  because  they  had  small  share  in  the  coming 
encyclopaedic  knowledge.  But  they  close  the  group :  John 
of  Salisbury  closing  it  by  virtue  of  his  critical  estimate  of  its 
achievement ;  Alanus  by  virtue  of  his  final  rehandling  of  the 
body  of  intellectual  data  at  its  disposal,  to  which  he  may 
have  made  some  slight  addition.  Abaelard  knew  and  used 
the  simpler  treatises  of  the  Aristotelian  Organon  of  logic. 
He  had  not  studied  the  Analytics  and  the  Topics,  and  of 
course  was  unacquainted  with  the  body  of  Aristotle's  philo- 
sophy outside  of  logic.  John  of  Salisbury  and  Alanus  know 
the  entire  Organon  ;  but  neither  one  nor  the  other  knows 
the  rest  of  Aristotle,  which  Alexander  of  Hales  was  the  first 
to  make  large  use  of. 

John  of  Salisbury,  Little  John,  Johannes  Parvus,  as  he 
was  called,  was  the  best  classical  scholar  of  his  time.8  His 

1  Ante,  Chapter  XXX.,  I. 

8  Under   another  title,  Moralis  philosophia  de  honesto  et  utt'te,  it  has  been 
ascribed  to  Hildebert  of  Lavardin,  Migne  171,  col.  1007-1056. 
3  For  examples  of  John's  Latin,  see  ante,  p.  173. 


374  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

was  an  acute  and  active  intellect,  which  never  tired  of 
hearing  and  weighing  the  views  of  other  men.  He  was, 
moreover,  a  man  of  large  experience,  travelling  much,  and 
listening  to  all  the  teachers  prominent  in  his  youth.  Also  he 
was  active  in  affairs,  being  at  one  time  secretary  to  Thibaut, 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  then  the  intimate  of  Becket, 
of  Henry  II.,  and  Pope  Adrian  IV.!  A  finished  scholar, 
who  knew  not  one  thing,  but  whatever  might  be  known, 
and  was  enlightened  by  the  training  of  the  world,  Little 
John  critically  estimates  the  learning  and  philosophy  of  the 
men  he  learns  from.  Having  always  an  independent  point 
of  view  he  makes  acute  remarks  upon  it  all,  and  admirable 
contributions  to  the  sum  of  current  thought.  But  chiefly  he 
seems  to  us  as  one  who  looks  with  even  eye  upon  whatsoever 
comes  within  his  vision.  He  knows  the  weaknesses  of  men 
and  the  limitations  of  branches  of  discipline  ;  knows,  for 
instance,  that  dialectic  is  sterile  by  itself,  but  efficient  as  an 
aid  to  other  disciplines.  So,  as  to  logic,  John  keeps  his  own 
point  of  view,  and  is  always  reasonable  and  practical.1 
Likewise,  with  open  mind,  he  considers  what  there  may  be 
in  the  alleged  science  of  the  Mathematicians,  i.e.  diviners 
and  astrologers.  He  uses  such  phrases  as  "  probabilia  quidem 
sunt  haec  .  .  .  sed  tamen  the  venom  lies  under  the  honey ! " 
For  this  science  sets  a  fatal  necessity  on  things,  and  would 
even  intrude  into  the  knowledge  of  the  future  reserved  for 
God's  majesty.  And  as  John  considers  the  order  of  events 
to  come,  and  the  diviner's  art,  cornua  succrescunt — the  horns 
of  more  than  one  dilemma  grow.2 

John  knew  more  than  any  man  of  the  ancient  philosophies.3 
For  himself,  of  course  he  loved  knowledge  ;  yet  he  would 
not  dissever  it  from  its  value  in  the  art  of  living.  "  Wisdom 
indeed  is  a  fountain,  from  which  pour  forth  the  streams 
which  water  the  whole  earth  ;  they  fill  not  alone  the  garden 
of  delights  of  the  divine  page,  but  flow  on  to  the  Gentiles, 
and  do  not  altogether  fail  even  the  Ethiopians.  ...  It  is 

1  See  e.g.  his  treatment  of  logic  in  Lib.   III.  and  IV.  of  the  Metalogicus 
(Migne  199). 

2  Polycraticus,  ii.  19-21  sqq.     There  is  now  a  critical  edition  of  this  work 
by  C.  C.  J.  Webb  (Joannis  Saresberiensis  Policratici  libri    VIII.  ;    Clarendon 
Press,  1910). 

8  Polycraticus,  lib.  vii. ,  is  devoted  to  a  history  of  antique  philosophy. 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS     375 

certain  that  the  faithful  and  wise  reader,  who  from  love  keeps 
learning's  watch,  escapes  vice  and  draws  near  to  life."1 
Philosophy  is  the  moderatrix  omnium  (a  favourite  phrase 
with  John) ;  the  true  philosopher,  as  Plato  says,  is  a  lover  of 
God  :  and  so  philosophia  is  amor  divinitatis.  Its  precept  is 
to  love  God  with  all  our  strength,  and  our  neighbour  as 
ourselves  :  "  He  who  by  philosophizing  has  reached  c/taritas, 
has  attained  philosophy's  true  end." 2  John  goes  on  to  show 
how  deeply  they  err  who  think  philosophy  is  but  a  thing  of 
words  and  arguments  :  many  of  those  who  multiply  words, 
by  so  doing  burden  the  mind.  Virtue  inseparably  accom- 
panies wisdom  ;  this  is  John's  sum  of  the  matter.  Clearly 
he  is  not  always,  or  commonly,  wrestling  with  ultimate 
metaphysical  problems  ;  he  busies  himself,  acutely  but  not 
metaphysically,  with  the  wisdom  of  life.  He  too  can  use 
the  language  of  piety  and  contemplation.  In  the  sixth 
chapter  of  his  De  septem  septenis  (The  seven  Sevens)  he 
gives  the  seven  grades  of  contemplation — meditatio,  soli- 
loquium,  circumspectio,  ascensto,  revelatio,  emissio,  inspiration 
He  presents  the  matter  succinctly,  thus  perhaps  giving  clarity 
to  current  pietistic  phraseology. 

Alanus  de  Insulis  was  a  man  of  renown  in  his  life-time, 
and  after  his  death  won  the  title  of  Doctor  Universalis. 
Although  the  fame  of  scholar,  philosopher,  theologian,  poet, 
may  have  uplifted  him  during  his  years  of  strength,  he  died 
a  monk  at  Citeaux,  in  the  year  1202.  Fame  came  justly 
to  him,  for  he  was  learned  in  the  antique  literature,  and  a 
gifted  Latin  poet,  while  as  thinker  and  theologian  he  made 
skilful  and  catholic  use  of  his  thorough  knowledge  of 
whatever  the  first  half  of  the  twelfth  century  had  achieved 
in  thought  and  system.  Elsewhere  he  has  been  considered 
as  a  poet ; 4  here  we  merely  observe  his  position  and 
accomplishment  in  matters  of  salvation  and  philosophy.8 

Alanus  possessed  imagination,  language,  and  a  faculty 
of  acute  exposition.  His  sentences,  especially  his  definitions, 

1  Polycratuus,  vii.  cap.  10.  *  Polycrat.  vii.  cap.  u. 

3  Migne  199,  col.  955. 

*  Ante,  Chapter  XXIX.,  n.  and  XXXII.,  I. 

6  The  works  of  Alanus  are  collected  in  Migne,  Pat,  Lot.  210.  Wh»t  follows 
in  the  text  is  much  indebted  to  M.  Baumgartner,  "Die  Philosophic  des  Alanus 
de  Insulis"  (Baeumker's  Beitrage,  MUnster,  1896). 


376  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  VH 

are  pithy,  suggestive,  and  vivid.  He  projected  much  thought 
as  well  as  fantasy  into  his  poem,  Antidaudtanus,  and  his 
cantafable,  De  planctu  naturae.  He  showed  himself  a  man 
of  might,  and  insight  too,  in  his  Contra  haereticos.  His 
suggestive  pithiness  of  diction  lends  interest  to  his  encyclo- 
paedia of  definitions,  Distinctiones  dictionum  theologicalium  ; 
and  his  keen  power  of  reasoning  succinctly  from  axiomatic 
premises  is  evinced  in  his  De  arte  fidei  catholicae. 

The  intellectual  activities  of  Alanus  fell  in  the  latter 
decades  of  the  twelfth  century,  when  mediaeval  thought 
seemed  for  the  moment  to  be  mending  its  nets,  and  preparing 
for  a  further  cast  in  the  new  waters  of  Aristotelianism. 
Alanus  is  busy  with  what  has  already  been  won  ;  he  is 
unconscious  of  the  new  greater  knowledge,  which  was 
preparing  its  revelations.  He  is  not  even  a  man  of  the 
transition  from  the  lesser  to  the  greater  intellectual  estate; 
but  is  rather  a  final  compendium  of  the  lesser.  Himself  no 
epoch-making  reasoner,  he  uses  the  achievements  of  Abaelard 
and  Hugo,  of  Gilbert  de  la  Porre"e  and  William  of  Conches, 
and  others.  Neither  do  his  works  unify  and  systematize  the 
results  of  his  studies.  He  is  rather  a  re-phraser.  Yet  his 
refashioning  is  not  a  mere  thing  of  words  ;  it  proceeds  with 
the  vitalizing  power  of  the  man's  plastic  and  creative 
temperament.  One  may  speak  of  him  as  keen  and  acquisi- 
tive intellectually,  and  creative  through  his  temperament. 

Alanus  shows  a  catholic  receptivity  for  all  the  mingled 
strains  of  thought,  Platonic,  Aristotelian,  Neo-Platonic  and 
Pythagorean,  which  fed  the  labours  of  his  predecessors.  He 
has  studied  the  older  sources,  the  Timaeus  fragment,  also 
Apuleius  and  Boethius  of  course.  His  chief  blunder  is  his 
misconception  of  Aristotle  as  a  logician  and  confuser  of 
words  (verborum  turbator} — a  phrase,  perhaps,  consciously 
used  with  poetic  license.  For  he  has  made  use  of  much 
that  came  originally  from  the  Stagirite.  Within  his  range 
of  opportunity,  Alanus  was  a  universal  reader,  and  his 
writings  discover  traces  of  the  men  of  importance  from 
Pseudo-Dionysius  and  Eriugena  down  to  John  of  Salisbury 
and  Gundissalinus. 

These  remarks  may  take  the  place  of  any  specific  pre- 
sentation of  Alanus's  work  in  logic,  of  his  view  of  universals, 


CH.  xxxvi  TWELFTH-CENTURY  SCHOLASTICS     377 

of  his  notions  of  physics,  of  nature,  of  matter  and  form,  of 
man's  mind  and  body,  and  of  the  Triune  Godhead.1  In  his 
cosmology,  however,  we  may  note  his  imaginatively  original 
employment  of  the  conception  or  personification  of  Nature. 
God  is  the  Creator,  and  Nature  is  His  creature,  and  His  vice- 
regent  or  vicarious  maker,  working  the  generation  and  decay 
of  things  material  and  changeable.2  This  thought,  imagi- 
natively treated,  makes  a  good  part  of  the  poetry  of  the 
De  planctu  and  the  Antidaudianus.  The  conception  with 
him  is  full  of  charming  fantasy,  and  we  look  back  through 
Bernardus  Silvestris  and  other  writers  to  Plato's  divine 
fooling  in  the  Tiwaeus,  not  as  the  specific,  but  generic,  origin 
of  such  imaginative  views  of  the  contents  and  generation  of 
the  world.  Such  imaginings  were  as  fantasy  to  science, 
when  compared  with  the  solid  and  comprehensive  con- 
sideration of  the  material  world  which  was  to  come  a  few 
years  after  Alanus's  death  through  the  encyclopaedic 
Aristotelian  knowledge  presented  in  the  works  of  Alexander 
of  Hales  and  Albertus  Magnus. 

1  AH  this  is  thoroughly  done  by  Baumgartner,  o.c. 
2  See  Baumgartner,  p.  76  sqq.  and  citations. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII 

THE    UNIVERSITIES,    ARISTOTLE,    AND    THE    MENDICANTS 

INTELLECTUALLY,  the  thirteenth  century  in  western  Europe 
is  marked  by  three  closely  connected  phenomena :  the 
growth  of  Universities,  the  discovery  and  appropriation  of 
Aristotle,  and  the  activities  of  Dominicans  and  Franciscans. 
These  movements  were  universal,  in  that  the  range  of  none 
of  them  was  limited  by  racial  or  provincial  boundaries. 
Yet  a  line  may  still  be  drawn  between  Italy,  where  law  and 
medicine  were  cultivated,  and  the  North,  where  theology  with 
logic  and  metaphysics  were  supreme.  Absorption  in  these 
subjects  produced  a  common  likeness  in  the  intellectual 
processes  of  men  in  France,  England,  and  Germany,  whose 
writings  were  to  be  no  longer  markedly  affected  by  racial 
idiosyncrasies.  This  was  true  of  the  logical  controversy 
regarding  universals,  so  prominent  in  the  first  part  of  the 
twelfth  century.  It  was  very  true  of  the  great  intellectual 
movement  of  the  later  twelfth  and  the  thirteenth  centuries,  to 
wit,  the  coming  of  Aristotle  to  dominance,  in  spite  of  the 
counter-currents  of  Platonic  Augustinianism. 

The  men  who  followed  the  new  knowledge  had  slight 
regard  for  ties  of  home,  and  travelled  eagerly  in  search  of 
learning.  So,  even  as  from  far  and  wide  those  who  could 
study  Roman  law  came  to  Bologna,  the  study  of  theology 
and  all  that  philosophy  included  drew  men  to  Paris.  Thither 
came  the  keen-minded  from  Italy  and  from  England  ;  from 
the  Low  Countries  and  from  Germany ;  and  from  the  many 
very  different  regions  now  covered  by  the  name  of  France. 
Wherever  born  and  of  whatever  race,  the  devotees  of 
philosophy  and  theology  at  some  period  of  their  career  reached 

378 


CHAP,  xxxvn        THE  NEW  KNOWLEDGE  379 

Paris,  learned  and  taught  there,  and  were  affected  by  the 
universalizing  influence  of  an  international  aggregate  of 
scholarship.  So  had  it  been  with  Breton  Abaelard,  with 
German  Hugo,  and  with  Lombard  Peter  ;  so  with  English 
John,  hight  of  Salisbury.  And  in  the  following  times 
of  culmination,  Albertus  Magnus  comes  in  his  maturity 
from  Germany ;  and  his  marvellous  pupil  Thomas,  born  of 
noble  Norman  stock  in  southern  Italy,  follows  his  master, 
eventually  to  Paris.  So  Bonaventura  of  lowly  mid-Italian 
birth  likewise  learns  and  teaches  there ;  and  that  unique 
Englishman,  Roger  Bacon,  and  after  him  Duns  Scotus. 
These  few  greatest  names  symbolize  the  centralizing  of 
thought  in  the  crowded  and  huddled  lecture-rooms  of  the 
City  on  the  Seine. 

The  origins  of  the  great  mediaeval  Universities  can 
scarcely  be  accommodated  to  simple  statement.  Their  history 
is  frequently  obscure,  and  always  intricate  ;  and  the  selection 
of  a  specific  date  or  factor  as  determining  the  inception,  or 
distinctive  development,  of  these  mediaeval  creations  is  likely 
to  be  but  arbitrary.  They  had  no  antique  prototype : 
nothing  either  in  Athens  or  Rome  ever  resembled  these 
corporations  of  masters  and  students,  with  their  authoritative 
privileges,  their  fixed  curriculum,  and  their  grades  of  formally 
certified  attainment.  Even  the  Alexandria  of  the  Ptolemies, 
with  all  the  pedantry  of  its  learned  litterateurs  and  their 
minute  study  of  the  past,  has  nothing  to  offer  like  the 
scholastic  obsequiousness  of  the  mediaeval  University,  which 
sought  to  set  upon  one  throne  the  antique  philosophy  and 
the  Christian  revelation,  that  it  might  with  one  and  the  same 
genuflection  bow  down  before  them  both.  It  behoves  us 
to  advert  to  the  conditions  influencing  the  growth  of 
Universities,  and  give  a  little  space  to  those  which  were  chief 
among  them. 

The  energetic  human  advance  distinguishing  the  twelfth 
century  in  western  Europe  exhibits  among  its  most  obvious 
phenomena  an  increased  mobility  in  all  classes  of  society,  and 
a  tendency  to  gather  into  larger  communities  and  form  strong 
corporate  associations  for  profit  or  protection.  New  towns 
came  into  being,  and  old  ones  grew  apace.  Some  of 
them  in  the  north  of  Europe  wrested  their  freedom  from 


380  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

feudal  lords  ;  and  both  in  the  north  and  south,  municipalities 
attained  a  more  complex  organization,  while  within  them 
groups  of  men  with  common  interests  formed  themselves 
into  powerful  guilds.  As  strangers  of  all  kinds — merchants, 
craftsmen,  students — came  and  went,  their  need  of  protection 
became  pressing,  and  was  met  in  various  ways. 

No  kind  of  men  were  more  quickly  touched  by  the 
new  mobility  than  the  thousands  of  youthful  learners  who 
desired  to  extend  their  knowledge,  or,  in  some  definite  field, 
perfect  their  education.  In  the  eleventh  century,  such  would 
commonly  have  sought  a  monastery,  near  or  far.  In  the 
twelfth  and  then  in  the  thirteenth,  they  followed  the  human 
currents  to  the  cities,  where  knowledge  flourished  as  well  as 
trade,  and  tolerable  accommodation  might  be  had  for  teachers 
and  students.  Certain  towns,  some  for  more,  some  for  less, 
obvious  reasons,  became  homes  of  study.  Bologna,  Paris, 
Oxford  are  the  chief  examples.  Irnerius,  famed  as  the 
founder  of  the  systematic  study  of  the  Roman  law,  and 
Gratian,  the  equally  famous  orderer  of  the  Canon  law,  taught 
or  wrote  at  Bologna  when  the  twelfth  century  was  young. 
Their  fame  drew  crowds  of  laymen  and  ecclesiastics,  who 
desired  to  equip  themselves  for  advancement  through  the 
business  of  the  law,  civil  or  ecclesiastical.  At  the  same  time, 
hundreds,  which  grew  to  thousands,  were  attracted  to  the 
Paris  schools — the  school  of  Notre  Dame,  where  William  of 
Champeaux  held  forth  ;  the  school  of  St.  Victor,  where  he 
afterwards  established  himself,  and  where  Hugo  taught ;  and 
the  school  of  St  Genevieve,  where  Abaelard  lectured  on 
dialectic  and  theology.  These  were  palpable  gatherings 
together  of  material  for  a  University.  What  first  brought 
masters  and  students  to  Oxford  a  few  decades  later  is  not  so 
clear.  But  Oxford  had  been  an  important  town  long  before 
a  University  lodged  itself  there. 

In  the  twelfth  century,  citizenship  scarcely  protected  one 
beyond  the  city  walls.  A  man  carried  but  little  safety  with 
him.  Only  an  insignificant  fraction  of  the  students  at 
Bologna,  and  of  both  masters  and  students  at  Paris  and 
Oxford,  were  citizens  of  those  towns.  The  rest  had  come 
from  everywhere.  Paris  and  Bologna  held  an  utterly 
cosmopolitan,  international,  concourse  of  scholar-folk.  And 


CHAP,  xxxvu       THE  NEW  KNOWLEDGE  381 

these  scholars,  turbulent  enough  themselves,  and  dwelling 
in  a  turbulent  foreign  city,  needed  affiliation  there,  and 
protection  and  support.  Organization  was  an  obvious 
necessity,  and  if  possible  the  erection  of  a  civitas  within  a 
civitas,  a  University  within  a  none  too  friendly  town.  This 
was  the  primal  situation,  and  the  primal  need.  Through 
somewhat  different  processes,  and  under  different  circum- 
stances, these  exigencies  evoked  a  University  in  Bologna, 
Paris,  and  Oxford.1 

In  Italy,  where  the  instincts  of  ancient  Rome  never  were 
extinguished,  where  some  urban  life  maintained  itself  through 
the  early  helpless  mediaeval  centuries,  where  during  the  same 
period  an  infantile  humanism  did  not  cease  to  stammer  ; 
where  "  grammar  "  was  studied  and  taught  by  laymen,  and 
the  "  ars  dictaminis "  practised  men  in  the  forms  of  legal 
instruments,  it  was  but  natural  that  the  new  intellectual 
energies  of  the  twelfth  century  should  address  themselves  to 
the  study  of  the  Roman  law,  which,  although  debased  and 
barbarized,  had  never  passed  into  desuetude.  And  inasmuch 
as  abstract  theology  did  not  attract  the  Italian  temperament 
or  meet  the  conditions  of  papal  politics  in  Italy,  it  was 
likewise  natural  that  ecclesiastical  energies  should  be  directed 
to  the  equally  useful  and  closely  related  canon  law.  Such 
studies  with  their  practical  ends  could  best  be  prosecuted  at 
some  civic  centre.  In  the  first  part  of  the  twelfth  century, 
Irnerius  lectured  at  Bologna  upon  the  civil  law  ;  a  generation 
later,  Gratian  published  his  Decretum  there.  The  specific 
reasons  inducing  the  former  to  open  his  lectures  in  that  city 
are  not  known  ;  but  a  large  and  thrifty  town  set  at  the 
meeting  of  the  great  roads  from  central  Italy  to  the  north 
and  east,  was  an  admirable  place  for  a  civil  doctor  and  his 
audience,  as  the  event  proved.  Gratian  was  a  monk  in  a 

1  What  I  havefelt  obliged  to  say  upon  the  organization  of  mediaeval  Universities, 
I  have  largely  drawn  from  Rashdall's  Universities  of  Europe  in  the  Aliddle  Ages 
(Oxford,  1895).  The  subject  is  too  large  and  complex  for  independent  investi- 
gation, except  of  the  most  lengthy  and  thorough  character.  Extracts  from 
illustrative  mediaeval  documents,  with  considerable  information  touching  mediaeval 
Universities,  are  brought  together  by  Arthur  O.  Norton  in  his  Mediaeval  Univer- 
sities (Readings  in  the  History  of  Education,  Harvard  University,  1909).  For 
the  Paris  University,  the  most  important  source  is  the  Chartularium  Uttivtrsitatis 
Parisiensis,  ed.  by  Denifle  and  Chatelain  (1889-1891).  See  also  Ch.  Thnrot, 
D  Organisation  de  Fenseignement  dans  PUniversiti  de  Paris  (Paris,  1850),  and 
Denifle,  Die  Universitdten  des  Mittelalters  (Berlin,  1885). 


382  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

Bologna  convent,  and  may  have  listened  to  Irnerius.  The 
publication  of  his  Decretum  from  Bologna,  by  that  time  (cir. 
1142)  famous  for  jurisprudence,  lent  authority  to  this  work, 
whose  universal  recognition  was  to  enhance  in  turn  Bologna's 
reputation. 

From  the  time  of  this  inception  of  juristic  studies,  the 
talents  of  the  doctors,  and  the  city's  fame,  drew  a  prodigious 
concourse  of  students  from  all  the  lands  of  western  Europe. 
The  Doctors  of  the  Civil  and  Canon  Laws  organized 
themselves  into  one,  and  subsequently  into  two,  Colleges. 
Apparently  they  had  become  an  efficient  association  by  the 
third  quarter  of  the  twelfth  century.  But  the  University  of 
Bologna  was  to  be  constituted  par  excellence,  not  of  one  or 
more  colleges  of  doctors,  but  of  societies  of  students.  The 
persons  who  came  for  legal  instruction  were  not  boys  getting 
their  first  education  in  the  Arts.  They  were  men  studying 
a  profession,  and  among  them  were  many  individuals  of 
wealth  and  consequence,  holding  perhaps  civil  or  ecclesiastic 
office  in  the  places  whence  they  came.  The  vast  majority  had 
this  in  common,  that  they  were  foreigners,  with  no  civil  rights 
in  Bologna.  It  behoved  them  to  organize  for  their  protection 
and  mutual  support,  and  for  the  furtherance  of  the  purposes 
for  which  they  had  come.  That  a  body  of  men  in  a  foreign 
city  should  live  under  the  law  of  their  own  home,  or  the  law 
of  their  own  making,  did  not  appear  extraordinary  in  the 
twelfth  century.  It  was  not  so  long  since  the  principle  that 
men  carried  the  law  of  their  home  with  them,  had  been 
widely  recognized,  and  in  all  countries  the  clergy  still  lived 
under  the  law  of  the  Church.  The  gains  accruing  from  the 
presence  of  a  great  number  of  foreign  students  might  induce 
the  authorities  of  Bologna  to  permit  them  to  organize  as 
student  guilds,  and  regulate  their  affairs  by  rules  of  their 
own,  even  as  was  done  by  other  guilds  in  most  Italian 
cities.  At  Bologna  the  power  of  Guelf  and  Ghibeline  clubs, 
and  of  craftsmen's  guilds,  rivalled  that  of  the  city  magistrates. 

There  is  some  indirect  evidence  that  these  students  first 
divided  themselves  into  four  Nationes.  If  so,  the  arrangement 
did  not  last.  For  by  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century 
they  are  found  organized  in  two  Universitates,  or  corpora- 
tions, a  Universitas  Citramontanorum  and  a  Universitas 


CHAP,  xxxvii       THE   NEW  KNOWLEDGE  383 

Ultramontanorum  ;  each  under  its  own  Rector.  These  two 
corporations  of  foreign  students  constituted  the  University. 
The  Professors  did  not  belong  to  them,  and  therefore  were 
not  members  of  the  University.  Indeed  they  fought  against 
the  recognition  of  this  University  of  students,  asserting  that 
the  students  were  but  their  pupils.  But  the  students 
prevailed,  strong  in  their  numbers,  and  in  the  weapon  which 
they  did  not  hesitate  to  use,  that  of  migration  to  another 
city,  which  cut  off  the  incomes  of  the  Professors  and 
diminished  the  repute  and  revenue  of  Bologna.  So  great 
became  the  power  of  the  student  body,  that  it  brought  the 
Professors  to  complete  subjection,  paying  them  their  salaries, 
regulating  the  time  and  mode  of  lecturing,  and  compelling 
them  to  swear  obedience  to  the  Rectors.  The  Professors 
protested,  but  submitted.  To  make  good  its  domination 
over  them,  and  its  independence  as  against  the  city,  the 
student  University  migrated  to  Arezzo  in  1215  and  to  Padua 
in  I222.1 

In  origin  as  well  as  organization,  the  University  of  Paris 
differed  from  Bologna.  It  was  the  direct  successor  of  the 
cathedral  school  of  Notre  Dame.  This  had  risen  to 
prominence  under  William  of  Champeaux.  But  Abaelard 
drew  to  Paris  thousands  of  students  for  William's  hundreds 
(or  at  least  hundreds  for  William's  tens)  ;  and  Abaelard  at 
the  height  of  his  popularity  taught  at  the  school  of  St. 
Genevieve,  across  the  Seine.  Therefore  this  school  also, 
although  fading  out  after  Abaelard's  time,  should  be  regarded 
as  a  causal  predecessor  of  the  Paris  University.  So,  for  that 
matter,  should  the  neighbouring  school  of  St.  Victor,  founded 
by  the  discomfited  William  ;  for  its  reputation  under  Hugo 
and  Richard  drew  devout  students  from  near  and  far,  and 
augmented  the  scholastic  fame  of  Paris. 

It  was  both  the  privilege  and  duty  of  the  Chancellor 
of  Notre  Dame  to  license  competent  Masters  to  open  schools 
near  the  cathedral.  In  the  course  of  time,  these  Masters 
formed  an  Association,  and  assumed  the  right  to  admit  to 

1  What  has  been  said  applies  to  the  Bologna  Law  University.  That  had  been 
preceded  by  a  school  of  Arts,  and  later  there  grew  up  a  flourishing  school  of 
Medicine,  where  surgery  was  also  taught.  These  schools  became  affiliated 
Universities,  but  never  equalled  the  Law  University  in  importance. 


384  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

their  Society  the  licentiates  of  the  Chancellor,  to  wit,  the  new 
Masters  who  were  about  to  begin  to  teach.  In  the  decades 
following  Abaelard's  death,  the  Masters  who  lectured  in  the 
vicinity  of  Notre  Dame  increased  in  number.  They  spread 
with  their  schools  beyond  the  island,  and  taught  in  houses 
on  the  bridges.  They  were  Masters,  that  is,  teachers,  in  the 
Arts.  As  the  twelfth  century  gave  way  to  the  thirteenth, 
interest  in  the  Arts  waned  before  the  absorbing  passion  for 
metaphysical  theology.  This  was  a  higher  branch  of  study, 
for  which  the  Arts  had  come  to  be  looked  on  as  a  preparation. 
So  the  scholars  of  the  schools  of  Arts  became  impatient  to 
graduate,  that  is,  to  reach  the  grade  of  Master,  in  order  to 
pass  on  to  the  higher  study  of  theology.  A  result  was  that 
the  course  of  study  in  the  Arts  was  shortened,  while  Masters 
multiplied  in  number.  Their  Society  seems  to  have  become 
a  definite  and  formal  corporate  body  or  guild,  not  later  than 
the  year  1175.  Herein  was  the  beginning  of  the  Paris 
University.  It  had  become  a  studium  generate,  like  Bologna, 
because  there  were  many  Masters,  and  students  from  every- 
where were  admitted  to  study  in  their  schools. 

Gradually  the  University  came  to  full  corporate  existence. 
From  about  1210,  written  statutes  exist,  passed  by  the 
Society  of  Masters  ;  at  the  same  date  a  Bull  of  Innocent 
III.  recognizes  the  Society  as  a  Corporation.  Then  began 
a  long  struggle  for  supremacy,  between  the  Masters  and  the 
Chancellor :  it  was  the  Chancellor's  function  to  grant  the 
licence  to  become  a  Master ;  but  it  was  the  privilege  of  the 
Society  to  admit  the  licentiate  to  membership.  The  action 
of  both  being  thus  requisite,  time  alone  could  tell  with 
whom  the  control  eventually  should  rest.  Was  the  self- 
governing  University  to  prevail,  or  the  Chancellor  of  the 
Cathedral  ?  The  former  won  the  victory. 

The  Masters  in  Arts  constituted  par  excellence  the 
University,  because  they  far  outnumbered  the  Masters  in 
the  upper  Faculties  of  Theology,  Law,  and  Medicine.  They 
were  the  dominant  body  ;  what  they  decided  on,  the  other 
Faculties  acquiesced  in.  These  Masters  in  Arts,  besides 
being  numerous,  were  young,  not  older  than  the  law  students 
at  Bologna.  With  their  still  younger  students,1  they  made 

1  The  Masters  who  taught  were  called  Regentes. 


CHAP,  xxxvn       THE   NEW  KNOWLEDGE  385 

the  bulk  of  the  entire  University,  and  were  the  persons  who 
most  needed  protection  in  their  lawful  or  unlawful  conduct 
At  some  indeterminate  period  they  divided  themselves  into  the 
four  Nattones,  French,  Normans,  Picards,  and  English.  They 
voted  by  Nationes  in  their  meetings  ;  but  from  a  period 
apparently  as  early  as  their  organization,  a  Rector  was 
elected  for  all  four  Nationes,  and  not  one  Rector  for  each. 
There  were,  however,  occasional  schisms  or  failures  to  agree. 
It  was  to  be  the  fortune  of  the  Rector  thus  elected  to 
supplant  the  Chancellor  of  the  Cathedral  as  the  real  head  of 
the  University. 

The  vastly  greater  number  of  the  Masters  in  Arts  were 
actually  students  in  the  higher  Faculties  of  Theology,  Law,1 
or  Medicine,  for  which  graduation  in  the  Arts  was  the 
ordinary  prerequisite.  The  Masters  or  Doctors  of  these 
three  higher  Faculties,  at  least  from  the  year  1213, 
determined  the  qualifications  of  candidates  in  their  depart- 
ments. Nevertheless  the  Rector  of  the  Faculty  of  Arts 
continued  his  advance  toward  the  headship  of  the  whole 
University.  The  oath  taken  by  the  Bachelors  in  the  Arts, 
of  obedience  to  that  Faculty  and  its  Rector,  was  strengthened 
in  1256,  so  as  to  bind  the  oath-taker  so  long  as  he  should 
continue  a  member  of  the  University. 

The  University  had  not  obtained  its  privileges  without 
insistence,  nor  without  the  protest  of  action  as  well  as  word. 
Its  first  charter  of  privileges  from  the  king  was  granted  in 
1 200,  upon  its  protests  against  the  conduct  of  the  Provost 
of  Paris  in  attacking  riotous  students.  Next,  in  combating 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  Chancellor,  it  obtained  privileges  from 
the  Pope;  and  in  1229,  upon  failure  to  obtain  redress  for 
an  attack  from  the  Provost's  soldiers,  ordered  by  the  queen, 
Blanche  of  Castile,  the  University  dispersed.  Thus  it  re- 
sorted to  the  weapon  by  which  the  University  of  Bologna 
had  won  the  confirmation  of  its  rights.  In  the  year  1231 
the  great  Papal  Bull,  Parens  scientiarum,  finally  confirmed 
the  Paris  University  in  its  contentions  and  demands :  the 
right  to  suspend  lectures  was  sanctioned,  whenever  satisfac- 
tion for  outrage  had  been  refused  for  fifteen  days  ;  likewise 

1  Both  civil  and  canon  law  were  studied  till  1219,  when  a  Bull  of  Honor iu* 
III.  forbade  the  study  of  the  former  at  Paris. 

VOL.  II  2  C 


386  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

the  authority  of  the  University  to  make  statutes,  and  expel 
members  for  a  breach  of  them.  The  Chancellor  of  Notre 
Dame  and  the  Bishop  of  Paris  were  both  constrained  by 
the  same  Bull. 

A  different  struggle  still  awaited  the  University,  in 
which  it  was  its  good  fortune  not  to  be  altogether  success- 
ful ;  for  it  was  contending  against  instruments  of  intellectual 
and  spiritual  renovation,  to  wit,  the  Mendicant  Orders.  The 
details  are  difficult  to  unravel  at  this  distance  of  time.  But 
the  Dominicans  and  Franciscans,  in  the  lifetime  of  their 
founders,  established  themselves  in  Paris,  and  opened 
schools  of  theology.  Their  Professors  were  licensed  by  the 
Chancellor,  and  yet  seem  to  have  been  unwilling  to  fall  in 
with  the  customs  of  the  University,  and,  for  example,  cease 
from  teaching  and  disperse,  when  it  saw  fit  to  do  so.  The 
doctors  of  the  theological  Faculty  became  suspicious,  and 
opposed  the  admission  of  Mendicants  to  the  theological 
Faculty.  The  struggle  lasted  thirty  years,  until  the 
Dominicans  obtained  two  chairs  in  that  Faculty,  and  the 
Franciscans  perhaps  the  same  number,  on  terms  which 
looked  like  a  victory  for  the  Orders,  but  in  fact  represented 
a  compromise ;  for  the  Mendicant  doctors  in  the  end 
apparently  submitted  to  the  statutes  of  the  University.1 

The  origin  of  Oxford  University  was  different,  and  one 
may  say  more  adventitious  than  that  of  Paris  or  Bologna. 
For  Oxford  was  not  the  capital  of  a  kingdom,  nor  is  it 
known  to  have  been  an  ancient  seat  of  learning.  The  city 
was  not  even  a  bishop's  seat,  a  fact  which  had  a  marked 
effect  upon  the  constitution  of  the  University.  The  old 
town  lay  at  the  edge  of  Essex  and  Mercia,  and  its  position 
early  gave  it  importance  politically,  or  rather  strategically, 
and  as  a  place  of  trade.  How  or  whence  came  the  nucleus 
of  Masters  and  students  that  should  grow  into  a  University 
is  unknown.  An  interesting  hypothesis 2  is  that  it  was  a 
colony  from  Paris,  shaken  off  by  some  academic  or  political 
disturbance.  This  surmise  has  been  connected  with  the 
year  1167.  Some  evidence  exists  of  a  school  having 
existed  there  before.  Next  comes  a  distinct  statement 
from  the  year  1185,  of  the  reading  of  a  book  before  the 

1  See  post,  p.  399.  2  Mr.  Rashdall's. 


CHAP,  xxxvn       THE   NEW  KNOWLEDGE  387 

Masters  and  students.1  After  this  date  the  references 
multiply.  In  1209,  one  has  a  veritable  "dispersion,"  in 
protest  against  the  hanging  of  some  scholars.  A  charter 
from  the  papal  legate  in  1214  accords  certain  privileges, 
among  others  that  a  clerk  arrested  by  the  town  should  be 
surrendered  on  demand  of  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln  ~  or  the 
Archdeacon,  or  the  Chancellor,  whom  the  Bishop  shall  set  over 
the  scholars.  This  document  points  to  the  beginning  of  the 
chancellorship.  The  title  probably  was  copied  from  Paris ; 
but  in  Oxford  the  office  was  to  be  totally  different.  The 
Paris  Chancellor  was  primarily  a  functionary  of  a  great 
cathedral,  who  naturally  maintained  its  prerogatives  against 
the  encroachments  of  university  privilege.  But  at  Oxford 
there  was  no  cathedral ;  the  Chancellor  was  the  head  of  the 
University,  probably  chosen  from  its  Masters,  and  had 
chiefly  its  interests  at  heart. 

Making  allowance  for  this  important  difference  in  the 
Chancellor's  office,  the  development  of  the  University  closely 
resembled  that  of  Paris.  Its  first  extant  statute,  of  the  year 
1252,  prescribes  that  no  one  shall  be  licensed  in  Theology 
who  has  not  previously  graduated  in  the  Arts.  To  the 
same  year  belongs  a  settlement  of  disputes  between  the 
Irish  and  northern  scholars.  The  former  were  included  in 
the  Australes  or  southerners,  one  of  the  two  Nationes  com- 
posing the  Faculty  of  Arts.  The  Australes  included  the 
natives  of  Ireland,  Wales,  and  England  south  of  the  Trent ; 
the  other  Natio,  the  Boreales,  embraced  the  English  and 
Scotch  coming  from  north  of  that  river.  But  the  division 
into  Nationes  was  less  important  than  in  the  cosmopolitan 
University  of  Paris,  and  soon  ceased  to  exist.  The  Faculty 
of  Arts,  however,  continued  even  more  dominant  than  at 
Paris.  There  was  no  serious  quarrel  with  the  Mendicant 
Orders,  who  established  themselves  at  Oxford — the  Domini- 
cans in  1 22 1,  and  the  Franciscans  three  years  later. 

The  curriculum  of  studies  appears  much  the  same  at 
both  Universities,  and,  as  followed  in  the  middle  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  may  be  thus  summarized.  For  the 
lower  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts,  four  or  five  years  were 

1  Rashdall,  o.c.  ii.  p.  341. 
2  Oxford  ky  in  the  diocese  of  Lincoln. 


388  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v» 

required ;  and  three  or  four  years  more  for  the  Master's 
privileges.  The  course  of  study  embraced  grammar 
(Priscian),  also  rhetoric,  and  in  logic  the  entire  Organon  of 
Aristotle,  preceded  by  Porphyry's  Isagoge^  and  with  the 
Sexprincipia  of  Gilbert  de  la  Porree  added  to  the  course. 
The  mathematical  branches  of  the  Ouadrivium  also  were 
required :  arithmetic,  music,  geometry,  and  astronomy. 
And  finally  a  goodly  part  of  the  substantial  philosophy  of 
Aristotle  was  studied,  with  considerable  choice  permitted  to 
the  student  in  his  selection  from  the  works  of  the 
philosopher.  At  Oxford  he  might  choose  between  the 
Physics  or  the  De  coelo  et  mwido,  or  the  De  anima  or  the 
De  animalibus.  The  Metaphysics  and  Ethics  or  Politics 
were  also  required  before  the  Bachelor  could  be  licensed 
as  a  Master. 

In  Theology  the  course  of  study  was  extremely  lengthy, 
especially  at  Paris,  where  eight  years  made  the  minimum, 
and  the  degree  of  Doctor  was  not  given  before  the  candi- 
date had  reached  the  age  of  thirty-five.  The  chief  sub- 
jects were  Scripture  and  the  Sentences  of  Peter  Lombard. 
Besides  which,  the  candidate  had  to  approve  himself  in 
sermons  and  disputations.  The  latter  might  amount  to  a 
trial  of  nerve  and  endurance,  as  well  as  proficiency  in  learn- 
ing, since  the  candidate  was  expected  to  militare  in  sckolis, 
against  a  succession  of  opponents  from  six  in  the  morning 
till  six  in  the  evening,  with  but  an  hour's  refreshment  at 
noon.1 

In  spite  of  the  many  resemblances  of  Oxford  to  Paris 
in  organization  and  curriculum,  the  intellectual  tendencies 
of  the  two  Universities  were  not  altogether  similar.  At 
Paris,  speculative  theology,  with  metaphysics  and  other 
branches  of  "  philosophy,"  regarded  as  its  adjuncts,  were  of 
absorbing  interest.  At  Oxford,  while  the  same  matters 
were  perhaps  supreme,  a  closer  scholarship  in  language  or 

1  For  the  course  of  medicine  and  the  list  of  books  studied  or  lectured  on, 
especially  at  Montpellier,  from  which  we  have  the  most  complete  list,  see  Rash- 
dall,  ii.  p.  1 1 8  sgf.  and  ibid.  p.  780.  In  Hanard  Studies  in  Classical  Philology, 
vol.  rx.,  1909,  C.  H.  Haskins  publishes  An  unpublished  List  of  Text-books,  be- 
longing to  the  dose  of  the  twelfth  century,  when  classical  studies  had  not  as  yet 
been  overshadowed  by  Dialectic.  See  also,  generally,  Paetow,  The  Arts  Cottnt 
mt  MuKeval  Universities  (Univ.  of  Illinois,  1910). 


CHAP,  xxxvn        THE   NEW   KNOWLEDGE  389 

philology  was  cultivated  by  Grosseteste,  and  his  pupils, 
Adam  of  Marsh  and  Roger  Bacon.  The  genius  of  observa- 
tion was  stirring  there  ;  and  a  natural  science  was  coming 
into  being,  which  was  not  to  repose  solely  upon  the 
authority  of  ancient  books,  but  was  to  proceed  by  the  way 
of  observation  and  experiment.  Yet  Roger  Bacon  imposed 
upon  both  his  philology  and  his  natural  science  a  certain 
ultimate  purpose :  that  they  should  subserve  the  surer 
ascertainment  of  divine  and  saving  truth,  and  thus  still 
remain  handmaids  of  theology,  at  least  in  theory. 

The  year  1200  may  be  taken  to  symbolize  the  middle 
of  a  period  notable  for  the  enlargement  of  knowledge.  If 
one  should  take  the  time  of  this  increase  to  extend  fifty 
years  on  either  side  of  the  central  point,  one  might  say  that 
the  student  of  the  year  1250  stood  to  his  intellectual 
ancestor  of  the  year  1150,  as  a  man  in  the  full  possession 
and  use  of  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica  would  stand  toward 
his  father  who  had  saved  up  the  purchase  money  for  the 
same.  The  most  obvious  cause  of  this  was  an  increasing 
acquaintance  with  the  productions  of  the  so-called  Arabian 
philosophy,  and  more  especially  with  the  works  of  Aristotle, 
first  through  translations  from  the  Arabic,  and  then  through 
translations  from  the  Greek,  which  were  made  in  order  to 
obviate  the  insufficiency  of  the  former. 

It  would  need  a  long  excursus  to  review  the  far  from 
simple  course  of  so-called  Arabian  thought,  philosophic  and 
religious.  It  begins  in  the  East,  and  follows  the  setting 
sun.  Even  before  the  Hegira  (622)  the  Arabs  had  rubbed 
up  against  the  inhabitants  of  Syria,  Christian  in  name, 
eastern  or  Hellenic  in  culture  and  proclivity.  Then  in  a 
century  or  two,  when  the  first  impulsion  of  Mohammedan 
conquest  was  spent,  the  works  of  Aristotle  and  his  later 
Greek  commentators  were  translated  into  Arabic  from  Syrian 
versions,  under  the  encouragement  of  the  rulers  of  Bagdad. 
The  Syrian  versions,  as  we  may  imagine,  were  somewhat 
eclecticized  and,  more  especially,  Neo-Platonized.  So  it  was 
not  the  pure  Aristotle  that  passed  on  into  Arabic  philosophy, 
but  the  Aristotelian  substance  interpreted  through  later 
phases  of  Greek  and  Oriental  thought.  Still,  Aristotle  was 


390  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

the  great  name,  and  his  system  furnished  the  nucleus  of 
doctrine  represented  in  this  Peripatetic  eclecticism  which  was 
to  constitute,  par  excellence,  Arabic  philosophy.  Also  Greek 
mathematical  and  medical  treatises  were  translated  into 
Arabic  from  Syrian  versions.  El-Farabi  (d.  950)  and 
Avicenna  (980-1036)  were  the  chief  glories  of  the  Arabic 
philosophy  of  Bagdad.  These  two  gifted  men  were  com- 
mentators upon  the  works  of  the  Stagirite,  and  authors  of 
many  interesting  lucubrations  of  their  own.1  Arabian 
philosophy  declined  in  the  East  with  Avicenna's  death  ;  but 
only  to  revive  in  Mussulman  Spain.  There  its  great  repre- 
sentative was  Averroes,  whose  life  filled  the  last  three 
quarters  of  the  twelfth  century.  So  great  became  his 
authority  as  an  Aristotelian,  with  the  Scholastics,  that  he 
received  the  name  of  Commentator,  par  excellence,  even  as 
Aristotle  was  par  excellence,  Philosophus.  We  need  not 
consider  the  ideas  of  these  men  which  were  their  own  rather 
than  the  Stagirite's  ;  nor  discuss  the  pietistic  and  fanatical 
sects  among  the  Mussulmans,  who  either  sought  to  harmonize 
Aristotle  with  the  Koran,  or  disapproved  of  Greek  philosophy. 
One  readily  perceives  that  in  its  task  of  acquisition  and 
interpretation,  with  some  independent  thinking,  and  still 
more  temperamental  feeling,  Arabic  philosophy  was  the 
analogue  of  Christian  scholasticism,  of  which  it  was,  so  to 
speak,  the  collateral  ancestor.2 

And  in  this  wise.  The  Commentaries  of  Averroes,  for 
example,  were  translated  into  Latin  ;  and,  throughout  all 
the  mediaeval  centuries,  the  Commentary  tended  to  supplant 
the  work  commented  on,  whether  that  work  was  Holy 
Scripture  or  a  treatise  of  Aristotle.  By  the  middle  of  the 
thirteenth  century  all  the  important  works  of  Averroes  had 
been  translated  into  Latin,  and  he  had  many  followers  at 
Paris ;  and  before  then,  from  the  College  of  Toledo,  had 
come  translations  of  the  principal  works  of  the  other  chief 

1  See  generally,  Carra  de  Vaux,  Avicenne  (Paris,  1900) ;  also  Gasali,  by  the 
same  author. 

2  Whoever  will  read  the  two  monographs  of  the  Baron  Carra  de  Vaux, 
Avicenne  and  Gazali,  will  be  struck  by  the  closely  analogous  courses  of  Moslem 
and  Christian  thought ;  each  showing  the  parallel  phases  of  scholastic  rationalism 
(reliant  upon  reason  and  rational  authority)  and  scholastic  theological  piety,  or 
mysticism  (reliant  upon  the  authority  of  Revelation  and  sceptical  as  to  the  validity 
of  human  reason). 


CHAP,  xxxvn       THE   NEW  KNOWLEDGE  391 

Arabian  philosophers.  Of  still  greater  importance  for  the 
Christian  West  was  the  work  of  Jews  and  Christians  in  Spain 
and  Provence,  in  translating  the  Arabic  versions  of  Aristotle 
into  Latin,  sometimes  directly,  and  sometimes  first  into 
Hebrew  and  then  into  Latin.  They  attempted  a  literal 
translation,  which,  however,  frequently  failed  to  give  the 
significance  even  of  the  Arabic  version.  These  Arabic- Latin 
translations  were  of  primary  importance  for  the  first  intro- 
duction of  Aristotle  to  the  theologian  philosophers  of  Christian 
Europe. 

They  were  not  to  remain  the  only  ones.  In  the  twelfth 
century,  a  number  of  Western  scholars  made  excursions  into 
the  East ;  and  the  capture  of  Constantinople  by  the  Crusaders 
in  1 204  enlarged  their  opportunities  of  studying  the  Greek 
language  and  philosophy.  Attempts  at  direct  translation 
into  Latin  began.  One  of  the  first  translators  was  the 
sturdy  Englishman,  Robert  Grosseteste.  He  was  born  in 
Suffolk  about  1175;  studied  at  Lincoln,  then  at  Oxford,  then 
at  Paris,  whence  he  returned  to  become  Chancellor  of  the 
University  of  Oxford.  He  was  made  Bishop  of  Lincoln  in 
1236,  and  died  seventeen  years  later.  It  was  he  who  laid 
the  foundation  of  the  study  of  Greek  at  Oxford,  and  Roger 
Bacon  was  his  pupil.  But  the  most  important  and  adequate 
translations  were  the  work  of  two  Dominicans,  the  Fleming, 
William  of  Moerbeke,  and  Henry  of  Brabant,  who  translated 
the  works  of  Aristotle  at  the  instance  of  Thomas  Aquinas, 
possibly  all  working  together  at  Rome,  in  1263  and  the 
years  following.  Aquinas  recognized  the  inadequacy  of  the 
older  translations,  and  based  his  own  Aristotelian  Com- 
mentaries upon  these  made  by  his  collaborators,  learned  in 
the  Greek  tongue.  The  joint  labour  of  translation  and 
commentary  seems  to  have  been  undertaken  at  the  command 
of  Pope  Urban  IV.,  who  had  renewed  the  former  prohibitions 
put  upon  the  use  of  Aristotle  at  the  Paris  University,  in  the 
older,  shall  we  say,  Averroistic  versions. 

If  these  prohibitions,  which  did  not  touch  the  logical 
treatises,  were  meant  to  be  taken  absolutely,  such  had  been 
far  from  their  effect  In  1210  and  again  in  1215,  an 
interdict  was  put  upon  the  naturalis  philosophia  and  the 
methafisica  of  the  Stagirite.  It  was  not  revoked,  but  rather 


392  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  VH 

provisionally  renewed,  in  1231,  until  those  works  should  be 
properly  expurgated.  A  Commission  was  appointed  which 
accomplished  nothing ;  and  the  old  interdict  still  hung  in 
the  air,  unrescinded,  yet  ignored  in  practice.  So  Pope 
Urban  referred  to  it  as  still  effective — which  it  was  not — in 
1263.  For  Aristotle  had  been  more  and  more  thoroughly 
exploited  in  the  Paris  University,  and  by  1255  tne  Faculty 
of  Arts  formally  placed  his  works  upon  the  list  of  books  to 
be  studied  and  lectured  upon.1 

So  the  founding  of  Universities  and  the  enlarged  and 
surer  knowledge  brought  by  a  study  of  the  works  of  Aristotle 
were  factors  of  power  in  the  enormous  intellectual  advance 
which  took  place  in  the  last  half  of  the  twelfth  and  the  first 
half  of  the  thirteenth  century.  Yet  these  factors  could  not 
have  operated  as  they  did,  but  for  the  antecedent  intellectual 
development.  Before  the  first  half  of  the  twelfth  century 
had  passed,  the  patristic  material  had  been  mastered,  along 
with  the  current  notions  of  antique  philosophy,  for  the  most 
part  contained  in  it.  Strengthened  by  this  discipline,  men 
were  prepared  for  an  extension  and  solidifying  of  their 
knowledge  •  of  the  universe  and  man.  Not  only  had  they 
appropriated  what  the  available  sources  had  to  offer,  but, 
when  we  think  of  Abaelard  and  Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  we  see 
that  organic  restatements  had  been  made  of  what  had  been 
acquired.  Still,  men  really  knew  too  little.  It  is  very  well 
to  exploit  logic,  and  construct  soul -satisfying  schemes  of 
cosmogonic  symbolism,  in  order  to  represent  the  deepest 
truth  of  the  material  world.  But  the  evident  sense-realities 
of  things  are  importunate.  The  minds  even  of  spiritual 
men  may,  in  time,  crave  explanation  of  this  side  of  their 
consciousness.  Abaelard  seems  to  have  been  oblivious  to 
natural  phenomena  ;  Hugo  recognizes  them  in  order  to  elicit 
their  spiritual  meaning  ;  and  Alanus  de  Insulis,  a  generation 
and  more  afterwards,  takes  a  poet's  view  of  Nature.  Other 
men  had  a  more  hard-headed  interest  in  these  phenomena  ; 
but  they  knew  too  little  to  attempt  seriously  to  put  them 

1  See  for  this  matter  Mandonnet,  O.P.,  Aristote  et  la  mouvement  intcllcctiul 
du  moyen  dge,  contained  in  his  Siger  de  Brabant,  and  printed  separately ;  De 
Wulf,  History  of  Medieval  Philosophy,  3rd  ed.,  pp.  243-253  and  authorities  ;  C. 
Marchesi,  Z.'  Etica  Nicomachea  nella  tradizione  medievale  (Messina,  1904). 


CHAP,  xxxvn        THE   NEW  KNOWLEDGE  393 

together  in  some  sense -rational  scheme.  The  natural 
knowledge  presented  by  the  writings  of  the  Church  Fathers 
was  little  more  than  foolishness  ;  the  early  schoolmen  were 
their  heirs.  They  observed  a  little  for  themselves ;  but  very 
little. 

There  is  an  abysmal  difference  in  the  amount  of  natural 
knowledge  exhibited  by  any  writing  of  the  twelfth  century, 
and  the  works  of  Albertus  Magnus  belonging  say  to  the 
middle  of  the  thirteenth.  The  obvious  reason  of  this  is, 
that  the  latter  had  drawn  upon  the  great  volume  of  natural 
observation  and  hypothesis  which  for  the  preceding  five 
hundred  years  had  been  actually  closed  to  western  Europe, 
and  for  five  hundred  years  before  that  had  been  spiritually 
closed,  because  of  the  ineptitude  of  men  to  read  therein. 
That  volume  was  of  course  the  encyclopaedic  Natural 
Philosophy  of  Aristotle,  completed,  and  treated  in  its 
ultimate  causal  relationships,  by  his  Metaphysics.  The 
Metaphysics,  the  First  Philosophy,  gave  completeness  and 
unity  to  the  various  provinces  of  natural  knowledge  ex- 
pounded in  his  special  treatises.  For  this  reason,  one 
finds  in  the  works  of  Albertus  a  fund  of  natural  knowledge 
solid  with  the  solidity  of  the  earth  upon  which  one  may 
plant  his  feet,  and  totally  unlike  the  beautiful  dreaming 
which  drew  its  prototypal  origins  from  the  skyey  mind  of 
Plato. 

The  utilization  of  Aristotle's  philosophy  by  the  English- 
man, Alexander  of  Hales,  who  became  a  Franciscan  near 
the  year  1230,  when  he  had  already  lectured  for  some 
thirty  years  at  Paris  ;  its  far  more  elaborate  and  complete 
exposition  by  the  very  Teutonic  Dominican,  Albertus 
Magnus  ;  and  its  even  closer  exposition  and  final  incorpora- 
tion within  the  sum  of  Christian  doctrine,  by  Thomas, — this 
three-staged  achievement  is  the  great  mediaeval  instance  of 
return  to  a  genuine  and  chief  source  of  Greek  philosophy. 
These  three  schoolmen  went  back  of  the  accounts  and 
views  of  Greek  philosophy  contained  in  the  writings  of  the 
Fathers.  And  in  so  doing  they  also  went  back  of  what 
was  transmitted  to  the  Middle  Ages  by  Boethius  and  other 
"  transmitters."  ' 

1  Ante,  Chapter  V. 


394  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

But  the  achievement  of  these  schoolmen  had  other 
import.  Their  work  represents  the  culmination  of  the 
third  stage  of  mediaeval  thought  :  that  of  systematic 
and  organic  restatement  of  the  substance  of  the  patristic 
and  antique,  with  added  elements ;  for  there  can  be  no 
organic  restatement  which  does  not  hold  and  present 
something  from  him  who  achieves  it.  The  result,  attained 
at  least  by  Thomas,  was  even  more  than  this.  Based  upon 
the  data  and  assumptions  of  scholasticism,  it  was  a  complete 
and  final  statement  of  the  nature  of  God  so  far  as  that 
might  be  known,  of  the  creature  world,  corporeal  and 
incorporeal,  and  especially  of  man,  his  nature,  his  qualities, 
his  relationship  to  God  and  final  destiny.  And  herein,  in 
its  completeness,  it  was  satisfying.  The  human  mind  in 
seeking  explanation  of  the  phenomena  of  its  consciousness — 
presumably  a  reflex  of  the  universe  without — tends  to 
seek  a  unity  of  explanation.  A  unity  of  explanation 
requires  a  completeness  in  the  mental  scheme  of  what  is 
to  be  explained.  Thoughtful  men  in  the  Middle  Ages 
craved  a  scheme  of  life  complete  even  in  detail,  which 
should  educe  life's  currents  from  a  primal  Godhead,  and 
project  them  compacted,  with  none  left  straying  or  pointing 
nowhither,  on  toward  universal  fulfilment  of  His  will. 

Mediaeval  thought  had  been  preceded  by  whole  views, 
entire  schemes  of  life.  Greek  philosophy  had  held  only 
such  from  the  time  when  Thales  said  that  water  was  the 
cause  of  all  things.  Plato's  view  or  scheme  also  was 
beautiful  in  its  ideally  pyramided  structure,  with  the  Idea 
of  the  Good  at  the  apex.  For  Aristotle,  knowledge  was 
to  be  a  syllogistic,  or  at  least  rational  and  jointed, 
encyclopaedia,  rounded,  unified,  complete.  After  the  pagan 
times,  another  whole  scheme  was  that  of  Augustine,  or 
again,  that  of  Gregory  the  Great,  though  barbarized 
and  hardened.  Thus  as  patterns  for  their  own  thinking, 
mediaeval  men  knew  only  of  entire  schemes  of  thought. 
Their  creed  was,  in  every  sense,  a  symbol  of  a  completed 
scheme.  And  no  mediaeval  philosopher  or  theologian 
suspected  himself  of  fragmentariness.  Yet,  in  fact,  at  first 
they  did  but  select  and  compile.  After  a  century  and 
more  of  this,  they  began  to  make  organic  statements  of 


CHAP,  xxxvii        THE   NEW   KNOWLEDGE 


395 


parts  of  Christian  doctrine.  So  we  have  Anselm's 
Proslogium  and  Cur  Deus  Homo.  Abaelard's  Theologia  is 
far  more  complete ;  and  so  is  Hugo's  De  sacramentis, 
which  offers  an  entire  scheme,  symbolical,  sacramental, 
Christian,  of  God  and  the  world  and  man.  Hugo's  scheme 
might  be  ideally  satisfying  ;  but  little  concrete  knowledge 
was  represented  in  it  And  when  in  the  generations  follow- 
ing his  death,  the  co-ordinated  Aristotelian  encyclopaedia 
was  brought  to  light  and  studied,  then  and  thereafter  any 
whole  view  of  the  world  must  take  account  of  this  new 
volume  of  argument  and  concrete  knowledge.  Alexander 
of  Hales  begins  the  labour  of  using  it  in  a  Christian 
Summa  ;  Albertus  makes  prodigious  advance,  at  least  in 
the  massing  and  preparation  of  the  full  Aristotelian  material. 
Both  try  for  whole  views  and  comprehensive  results. 
Then  Thomas,  most  highly  favoured  in  his  master  Albert, 
and  gifted  with  a  genius  for  acquisition  and  synthetic 
exposition,  incorporates  Aristotle,  and  Aristotle's  whole 
views,  into  the  whole  view  presented  by  the  Catholic  Faith. 

Thomas's  view,  to  be  satisfying,  had  to  be  complete. 
It  was  knowledge  united  and  amalgamated  into  a  scheme 
of  salvation.  But  a  scheme  of  salvation  is  a  chain,  which 
can  hold  only  in  virtue  of  its  completeness  ;  break  one  link, 
and  it  snaps  ;  leave  one  rivet  loose,  and  it  may  also  snap. 
A  scheme  of  salvation  must  answer  every  problem  put  to 
it ;  a  single  unanswered  problem  may  imperil,  it.  The 
problem,  for  example,  of  God's  foreknowledge  and  pre- 
destination— that  were  indeed  an  open  link,  which  Thomas 
will  by  no  means  leave  unwelded.  Hence  for  us  modern 
men  also,  whose  views  of  the  universe  are  so  shamelessly 
partial,  leaving  so  much  unanswered  and  so  much  unknown, 
the  philosophy  of  Thomas  may  be  restful,  and  charm  by 
its  completeness. 

It  is  of  great  interest  to  observe  the  apparently  unlikely 
agencies  by  which  this  new  volume  of  knowledge  was 
made  generally  available.  In  fact,  it  was  the  new  know- 
ledge and  the  demand  for  it  that  forced  these  agencies 
to  fulfil  the  mission  of  exploiting  it.  For  they  had  been 
created  for  other  purposes,  which  they  also  fulfilled.  Verily 
it  happened  that  the  chief  means  through  which  the  new 


396  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

knowledge  was  gained  and  published  were  the  two  new 
unmonastic  Orders  of  monks,  friars  rather  we  may  call 
them.  Francis  of  Assisi  was  born  in  1182  and  died  in 
1226;  Dominic  was  born  in  1177  and  died  in  1221. 
The  Orders  of  Minorites  and  Preachers  were  founded  by 
them  respectively  in  1209  and  1215.  Neither  Order  was 
founded  to  promote  secular  knowledge.  Francis  organized 
his  Minorites  that  they  might  imitate  the  lives  of  Christ 
and  His  apostles,  and  preach  repentance  to  the  world. 
Dominic  founded  his  Order  to  save  souls  through  preaching : 
"  For  our  Order  is  known  from  the  beginning  to  have 
been  instituted  especially  for  preaching  and  the  saving  of 
souls,  and  our  study  (studium  nostrum}  should  have  as 
the  chief  object  of  its  labour  to  enable  us  to  be  useful  to 
our  neighbours'  souls  (ut  proximorum  animabus  possimus 
utiles  esse)."  1 

Within  an  apparent  similarity  of  aim,  each  Order  from 
the  first  reflected  the  temper  of  its  founder  ;  and  the  temper 
of  Francis  was  not  that  of  Dominic.  For  our  purpose  here, 
the  difference  may  perhaps  be  symbolized  by  the  Dominican 
maxim  to  preach  the  Gospel  throughout  the  world  equally 
by  word  and  example  (verbo  pariter  et  exemplo)  ;  and 
the  Franciscan  maxim,  to  exhort  all  plus  exemplo  quam 
verbo?  A  generation  later  St  Bonaventura  puts  it  thus  : 
"  Alii  (scilicet,  Praedicatores)  principaliter  intendunt  specu- 
lation! .  .  .  et  postea  unctioni.  Alii  (scilicet,  Minores) 
principaliter  unctioni  et  postea  speculationi."  3 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  St  Francis  had  no  thought  of 
secular  studies ;  and  as  for  the  Order  of  Preachers,  the 
Constitutions  of  1228  forbade  the  Dominicans  to  study 
libros  gentilium  and  seculares  scientias.  They  are  to  study 
libros  theologicos?  Francis,  also,  recognized  the  necessity  of 
Scriptural  study  for  those  Minorites  who  were  allowed 
to  preach.  In  these  views  the  early  Franciscans  and 
Dominicans  were  not  peculiar  ;  but  rather  represented  the 
attitude  of  the  older  monastic  Orders  and  of  the  stricter 

1  Constitutiones  des  Prcdigcr-Ordens  vom  Jahre  1228,  Prologus  ;  H.  Denifle, 
Archiv  fur  Lift,  und  Kirehenges.  des  Mittelalters,  Bd  i.  (1885),  p.  194. 

2  See   Felder,     Wissenschaftlichen   Studien    im    Franciskanerorden,    p.     24 
(Freiburg  im  Breisgau,  1904) ;  a  valuable  work. 

3  See  Felder,  o.c.  p.  29.  4   Constitutionts,  etc.,  cap.  28-31. 


CHAP,  xxxvn       THE   NEW   KNOWLEDGE  397 

secular  clergy.  The  Gospel  teaching  of  Christ  had  nothing 
to  do  with  secular  knowledge — explicitly.  But  the  first 
centuries  of  the  Church  perceived  that  its  defenders  should 
be  equipped  with  the  Gentile  learning,  into  which  indeed  they 
had  been  born.  And  while  Francis  was  little  of  a  theologian, 
and  Dominic's  personality  and  career  remain  curiously 
obscure,  one  can  safely  say  that  both  founders  saw  the 
need  of  sacred  studies,  and  left  no  authoritative  expression 
prohibiting  their  Orders  from  pursuing  them  to  the  best 
advantage  for  the  cause  of  Christ.  Yet  we  are  not  called 
on  to  suppose  that  either  founder,  in  founding  his  Order 
for  a  definite  purpose,  foresaw  all  the  means  which  after 
his  death  might  be  employed  to  attain  that  purpose — or 
some  other  ! 

The  new  Order  cometh,  the  old  rusteth.  So  has  it 
commonly  been  with  Monasticism.  Undoubtedly  these 
uncloistered  Orders  embodied  novel  principles  of  efficiency 
for  the  upholding  of  the  Faith :  their  soldiers  marched 
abroad  evangelizing,  and  did  not  keep  within  their  fastnesses 
of  holiness.  The  Mendicant  Orders  were  still  young,  and 
fresh  from  the  inspiration  of  their  founders.  In  those  years 
they  moved  men's  hearts  and  drew  them  to  the  ideal  which 
had  been  set  for  themselves.  The  result  was,  that  in  the 
first  half  of  the  thirteenth  century  the  greater  part  of 
Christian  religious  energy  girded  its  loins  with  the  cords  of 
Francis  and  Dominic. 

At  the  commencement  of  that  century,  when  the  Orders 
of  Minorites  and  Preachers  were  founded,  the  world  of 
Western  thought  was  prepared  to  make  its  own  the  new 
Aristotelian  volume  of  knowledge  and  applied  reason. 
Once  that  was  opened  and  its  contents  perceived,  the  old 
Augustinian-Neo-Platonic  ways  of  thinking  could  no  longer 
proceed  with  their  idealizing  constructions,  ignoring  the 
pertinence  of  the  new  data  and  their  possible  application 
to  such  presentations  of  Christian  doctrine  as  Hugo's  De 
sacramentis  or  the  Lombard's  Sentences.  The  new  know- 
ledge, with  its  methods,  was  of  such  insistent  import,  that 
it  had  at  once  to  be  considered,  and  either  invalidated  by 
argument,  or  accepted,  and  perhaps  corrected,  and  then 
accommodated  within  an  enlarged  Christian  Philosophy. 


398  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

The  spiritual  force  animating  a  new  religious  movement 
attracts  the  intellectual  energies  of  the  period,  and  furnishes 
them  a  new  reality  of  purpose.  This  was  true  of  early 
Christianity,  and  likewise  true  of  the  fresh  religious  impulse 
which  proceeded  from  Francis's  energy  of  love  and  the 
organizing  zeal  of  Dominic.  From  the  very  years  of  their 
foundation,  1209  and  1215,  the  rapid  increase  of  the  two 
Orders  realized  their  founders'  visions  of  multitudes  hurry- 
ing from  among  all  nations  to  become  Minorites  or 
Preachers.  And  more  and  more  their  numbers  were 
recruited  from  among  the  clergy.  The  lay  members, 
important  in  the  first  years  of  Francis's  labours,  were  soon 
wellnigh  submerged  by  the  clericals ;  and  the  educated  or 
learned  element  became  predominant  in  the  Franciscan 
Order  as  it  was  from  the  first  in  the  Dominican. 

Consider  for  an  instant  the  spread  of  the  former.  In 
1216,  Cardinal  Jacques  of  Vitry  finds  the  Minorites  in 
Lombardy,  Tuscany,  Apulia,  and  Sicily.  The  next  year 
five  thousand  are  reported  to  have  assembled  at  the 
general  meeting  of  the  Order.  Two  years  later  Francis 
proceeds  to  carry  out  his  plan  of  world-conquest  by  apportion- 
ing the  Christian  countries,  and  sending  the  brethren  into 
France,  Germany,  Hungary,  Spain,  and  throughout  Italy.1  It 
was  a  period  when  in  the  midst  of  general  ignorance  on  the 
part  of  the  clergy  as  well  as  laity,  Universities  (generalia 
studio]  were  rising  in  Italy,  France,  and  England.  The 
popes,  Innocent  III.  (died  1216),  Honorius  III.  (died  1221), 
and  Gregory  IX.  (died  1241),  were  seeking  to  raise  the 
education  and  even  the  learning  of  the  Church.  Their 
efforts  found  in  the  zeal  of  the  Mendicants  a  ready  response 
which  was  not  forthcoming  from  the  secular  clergy.  The 
Mendicants  were  zealous  for  the  Faith,  and  loyal  liegemen 
of  the  popes,  who  were  their  sustainers  and  the  guarantors 
of  their  freedom  from  local  ecclesiastical  interference.  What 
more  fitting  instruments  could  be  found  to  advance  the  cause 
of  sacred  learning  at  the  Universities,  and  enlarge  it  with 
the  new  knowledge  which  must  either  serve  the  Faith  or 
be  its  enemy.  If  all  this  was  not  evident  in  the  first 
decades  of  the  century,  it  had  become  so  by  the  middle  of 

1  Cf.  Felder,  o.c.  p.  107  sqq. 


CHAP,  xxxvn        THE   NEW   KNOWLEDGE  399 

it,  when  the  Franciscan  Bonaventura  and  the  Dominicans 
Albertus  and  Thomas  were  the  intellectual  glories  of  the 
time.  And  thus,  while  the  ardour  of  the  new  Orders  drew 
to  their  ranks  the  learning  and  spiritual  energy  of  the 
Church,  the  intellectual  currents  of  the  time  caught  up  those 
same  Brotherhoods,  which  had  so  entrusted  their  own 
salvation  to  the  mission  of  saving  other  souls  abroad  in  the 
world,  where  those  currents  flowed. 

The  Universities,  above  all  the  University  par  excellence, 
were  in  the  hands  of  the  secular  clergy ;  and  long  and 
intricate  is  the  story  of  their  jealous  endeavours  to  exclude 
the  Mendicants  from  Professors'  chairs.  The  Dominicans 
established  themselves  at  Paris  in  1217,  the  Franciscans 
two  years  later.  The  former  succeeded  in  obtaining  one 
chair  of  theology  at  the  University  in  1229,  and  a  second 
in  1231  ;  and  about  the  same  time  the  Franciscans  obtained 
their  first  chair,  and  filled  it  with  Alexander  of  Hales. 
When  he  died  an  old  man,  fifteen  years  later,  they  wrote 
upon  his  tomb : 

"  Gloria  Doctorum,  decus  et  flos  Philosophorum, 
Auctor  scriptorum  vir  Alexander  variorum," 

closing  the  epitaph  with  the  words  :  "  primus  Doctor  eorum," 
to  wit,  of  the  Minorites.  He  was  the  author  of  the  first 
Summa  theologiae,  in  the  sense  in  which  that  term  fits  the 
work  of  Albert  and  Thomas.  And  there  is  no  harm  in 
repeating  that  this  Summa  of  Alexander's  was  the  first  work 
of  a  mediaeval  schoolman  in  which  use  was  made  of  the 
physics,  metaphysics,  and  natural  history,  of  Aristotle.1  He 
died  in  I  245,  when  the  Franciscans  appear  to  have  possessed 
two  chairs  at  the  University.  One  of  them  was  filled  in 
1248  by  Bonaventura,  who  nine  years  later  was  taken  from 
his  professorship,  to  become  Minister-General  of  his  Order. 
It  was  indeed  only  in  this  year  1257  that  the  University 
itself  had  been  brought  by  papal  injunctions  formally  to 
recognize  as  magister  this  most  eloquent  of  the  Franciscans, 
and  the  greatest  of  the  Dominicans,  Thomas  Aquinas.  The 
latter's  master,  Albert,  had  been  recognized  as  magister  by 
the  University  in  1245. 

1  Cf.  Felder,  o.c.  p.  177  W- 


400  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

Before  the  intellectual  achievements  of  these  two  men, 
the  Franciscan  fame  for  learning  paled.  But  that  Order 
went  on  winning  fame  across  the  Channel,  which  the 
Dominicans  had  crossed  before  them.  In  1224  they  came 
to  Oxford,  and  were  received  as  guests  by  an  establishment 
of  Dominicans  :  this  was  but  nine  years  after  the  foundation 
of  the  preaching  Order !  Perhaps  the  Franciscan  glories 
overshone  the  Dominican  at  Oxford,  where  Grosseteste 
belongs  to  them  and  Adam  of  Marsh  and  Roger  Bacon. 
But  whichever  Order  led,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  together 
they  included  the  greater  part  of  the  intellectual  productivity 
of  the  maturing  thirteenth  century.  Nevertheless,  in  spite 
of  the  vast  work  of  the  Orders  in  the  field  of  secular 
knowledge,  it  will  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  advancement 
of  sacra  doctrina,  theology,  the  saving  understanding  of 
Scripture,  was  the  end  and  purpose  of  all  study  with 
Dominicans  and  Franciscans,  as  it  was  universally  with  all 
orthodox  mediaeval  schoolmen ;  although  for  many  the 
nominal  purpose  seems  a  mere  convention.  Few  men  of  the 
twelfth  or  thirteenth  century  cared  to  dispute  the  principle 
that  the  Carmina  poetarum  and  the  Dicta  philosophorum 
"  should  be  read  not  for  their  own  sake,  but  in  order  that 
we  may  learn  holy  Scripture  to  the  best  advantage :  I  say 
they  are  to  be  offered  as  first-fruits,  for  we  should  not  grow 
old  in  them,  but  spring  from  their  thresholds  to  the  sacred 
page,  for  whose  sake  we  were  studying  them  for  a  while."  * 

Within  the  two  Orders,  especially  the  Franciscan,  men 
differed  sharply  as  to  the  desirability  of  learning.  So  did 
their  contemporaries  among  the  secular  clergy,  and  their 
mediaeval  and  patristic  predecessors  as  far  back  as  Clement 
of  Alexandria  and  Tertullian.  On  this  matter  a  large 
variance  of  opinion  might  exist  within  the  compass  of 
orthodoxy ;  for  Catholicism  did  not  forbid  men  to  value 
secular  knowledge,  provided  they  did  not  cleave  to  opinions 
contradicting  Christian  verity.  This  was  heresy,  and  indeed 
was  the  sum  of  what  was  called  Averroism,  the  chief 
intellectual  heresy  of  the  thirteenth  century.  It  consisted 
in  a  sheer  following  of  Aristotle  and  his  infidel  commentator, 
wheresoever  the  opinions  of  the  Philosopher,  so  interpreted, 
1  From  Denifle,  Universitaten  des  Mittelalters,  i.  99,  note  192. 


CHAP,  xxxvn       THE   NEW  KNOWLEDGE  401 

might  lead.  They  were  not  to  be  corrected  in  the  interest 
of  Christian  truth.  A  representative  Averroist,  and  one  so 
important  as  to  draw  the  fire  of  Aquinas,  as  well  as  the 
censures  of  the  Church,  was  Siger  de  Brabant.  He  followed 
Aristotle  and  his  commentator  in  maintaining  :  The  universal 
oneness  of  the  (human)  intelligence,  the  anima  intellectiva, 
an  opinion  which  involved  the  denial  of  an  individual 
immortality,  with  its  rewards  and  punishments ;  the  eternity 
of  the  visible  world, — uncreated  and  everlasting ;  a  rational 
necessitarianism  which  precluded  freedom  of  human  action 
and  moral  responsibility. 

It  would  be  hard  to  find  theses  more  fundamentally 
opposed  to  the  Christian  Faith.  Yet  Siger  may  have  deemed 
himself  a  Christian.  With  other  Averroists,  he  sought  to 
preserve  his  religious  standing  by  maintaining  that  these 
opinions  were  true  according  to  philosophy,  but  not  according 
to  the  Catholic  Faith  :  "  Dicunt  enim  ea  esse  vera  secundum 
philosophiam,  sed  non  secundum  fidem  catholicam." a  With 
what  sincerity  Siger  held  this  untenable  position  is  hard  to 
say. 

1  See  generally,  Mandonnet,  Siger  de  Brabant  et  taverroisme  latin  an 
moyen  Age  (Fribourg,  Switzerland,  1899);  Baeumker  (Beitrage,  1898),  Die 
Impossibilia  des  Siger  von  Brabant ;  De  Wulf,  Hist,  of  Medieval  Philosophy,  3rd 
ed.,  p.  379  sqq.  (Longmans,  1909). 


VOL.  II 


2   D 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII 

BONAVENTURA 

THE  range  and  character  of  the  ultimate  intellectual  interests 
of  the  thirteenth  century  may  be  studied  in  the  works  of 
four  men :  St.  Bonaventura,  Albertus  Magnus  and  St. 
Thomas,  and  lastly,  Roger  Bacon.  The  first  and  last  were 
as  different  as  might  be ;  and  both  were  Franciscans. 
Albertus  and  Thomas  represent  the  successive  stages  of  one 
achievement,  the  greatest  in  the  course  of  mediaeval  thought. 
In  some  respects,  their  position  is  intermediate  between 
Bonaventura  and  Bacon.  Bonaventura  reflects  many  twelfth- 
century  ways  of  thinking  ;  Albert  and  Thomas  embody  par 
excellence  the  intellectual  movement  of  the  thirteenth  century 
in  which  they  all  lived  ;  and  Roger  Bacon  stands  for  much, 
the  exceeding  import  of  which  was  not  to  be  recognized 
until  long  after  he  was  forgotten.  The  four  were  contem- 
poraries, and,  with  the  possible  exception  of  Bacon,  knew 
each  other  well.  Thomas  was  Albert's  pupil ;  Thomas  and 
Bonaventura  taught  at  the  same  time  in  the  Faculty  of 
Theology  at  Paris,  and  stood  together  in  the  academic  con- 
flict between  their  Orders  and  the  Seculars.  Albertus  and 
Bonaventura  also  must  have  known  each  other,  teaching  at 
the  same  time  in  the  theological  faculty.  As  for  Bacon,  he 
was  likewise  at  Paris  studying  and  teaching,  when  the  others 
were  there,  and  may  have  known  them.1  Albert  and 
Thomas  came  of  princely  stock,  and  sacrificed  their  fortune 
in  the  world  for  theology's  sake.  Bacon's  family  was  well- 
to-do  ;  Bonaventura  was  lowly  born. 

1  Albert  was  born  probably  in  1193,  and  died  in  1280;  Bacon  was  born 
some  twenty  years  later,  and  died  about  1292.  Bonaventura  was  bom  in  1221, 
and  Thomas  in  1225  or  1227  ;  they  both  died  in  1274. 

402 


CHAP,  xxxvin  BONA VENTURA 


403 


John  of  Fidanza,  who  under  the  name  of  Bonaventura 
was  to  become  Minister-General  of  his  Order,  Cardinal,  Saint, 
and  Doctor  Seraphicus,  saw  the  light  in  the  Tuscan  village  of 
Bagnorea.  That  he  was  of  Italian,  half  Latin-speaking, 
stock  is  apparent  from  his  own  fluent  Latin.  Probably  in 
the  year  1238,  when  seventeen  years  old,  he  joined  the 
Franciscan  Order ;  and  four  years  later  was  sent  to  Paris, 
where  he  studied  under  Alexander  of  Hales.  In  1248  he 
was  licensed  to  lecture  publicly,  and  thenceforth  devoted 
himself  at  Paris  to  teaching  and  writing,  and  defending  his 
Order  against  the  Seculars,  until  1257,  when,  just  as  the 
University  conferred  on  him  the  title  of  Magister,  he  was 
chosen  Minister-General  of  his  Order,  in  the  thirty-seventh 
year  of  his  age.  The  greater  part  of  his  writings  were  com- 
posed before  the  burdens  of  this  primacy  drew  him  from  his 
studies.  He  was  still  to  become  Prince  of  the  Church,  for 
he  was  made  Cardinal  of  Albano  in  1273,  the  year  before 
his  death. 

For  all  the  Middle  Ages  the  master  in  theology  was 
Augustine.  Either  he  was  studied  directly  in  his  own  writ- 
ings, or  his  views  descended  through  the  more  turbid  channels 
of  the  works  of  men  he  influenced.  Mediaeval  theology 
was  overwhelmingly  Augustinian  until  the  middle  of  the 
thirteenth  century ;  and  since  theology  was  philosophy's 
queen,  mediaeval  philosophy  conformed  to  that  which 
Augustine  employed  in  his  theology.  This,  if  traced  back- 
ward to  its  source,  should  be  called  Platonism,  or  Neo- 
Platonism  if  we  turn  our  mind  to  the  modes  in  which 
Augustine  made  use  of  it.  His  Neo-Platonism  was  not 
unaffected  by  Peripatetic  and  later  systems  of  Greek  philo- 
sophy ;  yet  it  was  far  more  Platonic  than  Stoical  or 
Aristotelian. 

Those  first  teachers,  who  in  the  maturity  of  their  powers 
became  Brothers  Minorites,  were  Augustinians  in  theology, 
and  consequently  Platonists,  in  so  far  as  Platonism  made 
part  of  Augustine's  doctrines.  Thus  it  was  with  the  first 
great  teacher  at  the  Minorites  school  in  Oxford,  Robert 
Grosseteste,  and  with  the  first  great  Minorite  teacher  at 
Paris,  Alexander  of  Hales.  Both  of  these  men  were  pro- 
moters of  the  study  of  Aristotle  ;  yet  neither  became  so 


404  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

imbued  with  Aristotelianism  as  to  revise  either  his  theological 
system  or  the  Platonic  doctrines  which  seemed  germane  to 
it.  Moreover,  in  so  far  as  we  may  imagine  St.  Francis  to 
have  had  a  theology,  we  must  feel  that  Augustine,  with  his 
hand  on  Plato's  shoulder,  would  have  been  more  congenial 
to  him  than  Aristotle.  And  so  in  fact  it  was  to  be  with 
his  Order.  Augustine's  fervent  piety,  his  imagination  and 
religious  temperament,  held  the  Franciscans  fast.  Surely  he 
was  very  close  to  the  soul  of  that  eloquent  Franciscan 
teacher,  who  called  Alexander  of  Hales  "  master  and  father," 
sat  at  his  feet,  and  never  thought  of  himself  as  delivering 
new  teachings.  It  would  have  been  strange  indeed  if  Bona- 
ventura  had  broken  from  the  influences  which  had  formed 
his  soul,  this  Bonaventura  whose  most  congenial  precursor 
lived  and  wrote  and  followed  Augustine  far  back  in  the 
twelfth  century,  and  bore  the  name  of  Hugo  of  St.  Victor. 
Bonaventura's  writings  did  much  to  fix  Augustinianism 
upon  his  Order ;  rivalry  with  the  Dominicans  doubtless 
helped  to  make  it  fast ;  for  the  latter  were  following  another 
system  under  the  dominance  of  their  two  Titan  leaders,  who 
had  themselves  come  to  maturity  with  the  new  Aristotelian 
influences,  whereof  they  were  magna  pars. 

But  just  as  Grosseteste  and  Alexander  made  use  of  what 
they  knew  of  Aristotle,  so  Bonaventura  had  no  thought  of 
misprizing  him  who  was  becoming  in  western  Europe  "  the 
master  of  those  who  know."  In  specific  points  this  wise 
Augustinian  might  prefer  Aristotle  to  Plato.  For  example, 
he  chose  to  stand,  with  the  former,  upon  the  terra  frma  of 
sense  perception,  rather  than  keep  ever  on  the  wing  in  the 
upper  region  of  ideal  concepts. 

"Although  the  anima,  according  to  Augustine,  is  linked  to 
eternal  principles  (legibus  aeternis\  since  somehow  it  does  reach  the 
light  of  the  higher  reason,  still  it  is  unquestionable,  as  the  Philo- 
sopher says,  that  cognition  originates  in  us  by  the  way  of  the  senses, 
of  memory,  and  of  experience,  out  of  which  the  universal  is  deduced, 
which  is  the  beginning  of  art  and  knowledge  (artis  et  scientiae). 
Hence,  since  Plato  referred  all  certain  cognition  to  the  intelligible 
or  ideal  world,  he  was  rightly  criticized  by  Aristotle.  Not  because 
he  spoke  ill  in  saying  that  there  are  ideas  and  eternal  rationes ;  but 
because,  despising  the  world  of  sense,  he  wished  to  refer  all  certain 
cognition  to  those  Ideas.  And  thus,  although  Plato  seems  to 


CHAP,  xxxvin  BONAVENTURA  405 

make  firm  the  path  of  wisdom  (sapientiae)  which  proceeds  according 
to  the  eternal  rationes,  he  destroys  the  way  of  knowledge,  which 
proceeds  according  to  the  rationes  of  created  things  (rationes 
creatas).  So  it  appears  that,  among  philosophers,  the  word  of 
wisdom  (sermo  sapientiae)  was  given  to  Plato,  and  the  word  of 
knowledge  (scientiae)  to  Aristotle.  For  that  one  chiefly  looked 
to  the  things  above,  and  this  one  considered  things  below.1  But 
both  the  word  of  wisdom  and  of  knowledge,  through  the  Holy 
Spirit,  was  given  to  Augustine,  as  the  pre-eminent  declarer  of  the 
entire  Scripture."2 

So  there  is  Aristotelian  ballast  in  Bonaventura's  Platonic- 
Augustinian  theology.  His  chief  divergence  from  Albert 
and  Thomas  (who,  of  course,  likewise  held  Augustine  in 
honour,  and  drew  on  Plato  when  they  chose)  is  to  be  found 
in  his  temperamental  attitude,  toward  life,  toward  God,  or 
toward  theology  and  learning.  His  Augustinian  soul  held 
to  the  pre-eminence  of  the  good  above  the  true,  and  tended 
to  shape  the  second  to  the  first.  So  he  maintained  the 
primacy  of  willing  over  knowing.  Man  attains  God  through 
goodness  of  will  and  through  love.  The  way  of  knowledge 
is  less  prominent  with  Bonaventura  than  with  Aquinas. 
Surely  the  latter,  and  his  master  Albert,  saw  the  main 
sanction  of  secular  knowledge  in  its  ministry  to  sacra  doctrina; 
but  their  hearts  may  seem  to  tarry  with  the  handmaid. 
Bonaventura's  position  is  the  same ;  but  his  heart  never 
tarries  with  the  handmaid  ;  for  with  him  heart  and  mind  are 
ever  constant  to  the  queen,  Theology.  Yet  he  recognizes 
the  queen's  need  of  the  handmaid.  Holy  Writ  is  not 
for  babes ;  the  fulness  of  knowledge  is  needed  for  its 
understanding :  "  Non  potest  intelligi  sacra  Scriptura  sine 
aliarum  scientiarum  peritia."  8  And  without  philosophy  many 
matters  of  the  Faith  cannot  be  intelligently  discussed.  There 
is  no  knowledge  which  may  not  be  sanctified  to  the  purpose 
of  understanding  Scripture;  only  let  this  purpose  really 
guide  the  mind's  pursuits. 

1  So  Raphael  represents  them  in  his  "  School  of  Athens." 

2  Bonaventura,  Sermo  IV.,  Quaracchi  edition,  tome  v.  p.  572  (cited  by  De 
Wulf,   Hist.   etc.   p.    304,   note).      With  all    their  Augustinian-Platonism,   the 
Franciscans  made  a  good  second  to  the  Dominicans  in  the  study  of  Aristotle,  as 
is  proved  by  the  great  number  of  commentaries  upon  his  works  by  members  of  the 
former  Order.     See  Felder,  o.c.  p.  479. 

3  Epist.  de  tribus  quaestionibus ,  §  1 2. 


406  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

Bonaventura  wrote  a  short  treatise  to  emphasize  these 
universally  admitted  principles,  and  to  show  how  every  form 
of  human  knowledge  conformed  to  the  supreme  illumination 
afforded  by  Scripture,  and  might  be  reduced  to  the  terms 
and  methods  of  Theology,  which  is  Scripture  rightly 
understood.  He  named  the  tract  De  reductione  artium  ad 
theologiam  1  (The  leading  back  of  the  Arts  to  Theology). 

" '  Every  good  and  perfect  gift  is  from  above,  coming  down  from 
the  Father  of  lights,'  says  James.  This  indicates  the  source  of  all 
illumination,  and  the  streaming  of  all  enlightenment  from  that 
fontal  light.  While  every  illumination  is  inner  knowledge  (pmnis 
illuminatio  cognitio  internet  sit}  we  may  distinguish  the  external 
light,  (lumen  exterius),  to  wit,  the  light  of  mechanical  art ;  the  lower 
light,  to  wit,  the  light  of  sense  perception ;  the  interior  light,  to 
wit,  the  light  of  philosophical  cognition ;  the  superior  light,  to  wit, 
the  light  of  grace  and  Holy  Scripture.  The  first  illuminates  as  to 
the  arts  and  crafts  ;  the  second  as  to  natural  form ;  the  third  as  to 
intellectual  truth ;  the  fourth  as  to  saving  truth." 

He  enumerates  the  mechanical  arts,  drawing  from  Hugo 
of  St.  Victor ;  then  he  follows  with  Augustine's  explanation 
of  the  second  lumen,  as  that  which  discerns  corporeal  things. 
He  next  speaks  of  the  third  lumen  which  lightens  us  to  the 
investigation  of  truths  intelligible,  scrutinizing  the  truth  of 
words  (Logic),  or  the  truth  of  things  (Physics),  or  the  truth 
of  morals  (Ethics).  The  fourth  lumen,  of  Holy  Scripture, 
comes  not  by  seeking,  but  descends  through  inspiration  from 
the  Father  of  lights.  It  includes  the  literal,  the  spiritual, 
moral  and  anagogic  signification  of  Scripture,  teaching  the 
eternal  generation  and  incarnation  of  Christ,  the  way  to  live, 
and  the  union  of  God  and  the  soul.  The  first  of  these 
branches  pertains  to  faith,  the  second  to  morals,  and  the 
third  to  the  aim  and  end  of  both. 

<l  Let  us  see,"  continues  Bonaventura,  "  how  the  other 
illuminations  have  to  be  reduced  to  the  light  of  Holy 
Scripture.  And  first  as  to  the  illumination  from  sense 
cognition,  as  to  which  we  consider  its  means,  its  exercise, 
and  its  delight  (oblectamentum)"  Its  means  is  the  Word 
eternally  generated,  and  incarnated  in  time  ;  its  exercise  is 
in  the  sense  perception  of  an  ordered  way  of  living,  following 

1  Tome  v.  (Quaracchi  ed.)  pp.  319-325. 


CHAP,  xxxvm  BONAVENTURA  407 

the  suitable  and  avoiding  the  nocuous  ;  and  as  for  its  object 
of  delight,  as  every  sense  pursues  that  which  delights  it,  so 
the  sense  of  our  heart  should  seek  the  beautiful,  harmonious, 
and  sweet-smelling.  In  this  way  divine  wisdom  dwells 
hidden  in  sense  cognition. 

Next,  as  to  the  illumination  of  mechanical  art,  which  is 
concerned  with  the  production  of  the  works  of  craft.  Herein 
likewise  may  be  observed  analogies  with  the  light  from  Holy 
Scripture,  which  reveals  the  Word,  the  order  of  living,  and 
the  union  of  God  and  the  soul.  No  creature  proceeds  from 
the  great  Artificer,  save  through  the  Word  ;  and  the  human 
artificer  works  to  produce  a  beautiful,  useful,  and  enduring 
work  ;  which  corresponds  to  the  Scriptural  order  of  living. 
Each  human  artificer  makes  his  work  that  it  may  bring  him 
praise  or  use  or  delight ;  as  God  made  the  rational  soul,  to 
praise  and  serve  and  take  delight  in  Him,  through  love. 

By  similar  methods  of  reasoning  Bonaventura  next 
"  reduces,"  or  leads  back,  Logic,  and  Natural  and  Moral 
Philosophy  to  the  ways  and  purposes  of  Theology,  and 
shows  how  "  the  multiform  wisdom  of  God,  which  is  set 
forth  lucidly  by  Scripture,  lies  hidden  in  every  cognition, 
and  in  every  nature.  It  is  also  evident  that  all  kinds  of 
knowledge  minister  to  Theology  ;  and  that  Theology  takes 
illustrations,  and  uses  phrases,  pertaining  to  every  kind  of 
knowledge  (cognitionis).  It  is  also  plain  how  ample  is  the 
illuminating  path,  and  how  in  every  thing  that  is  sensed  or 
perceived,  God  himself  lies  concealed."  1 

Ways  of  reasoning  change,  while  conclusions  sometimes 
endure.  Bonaventura's  reasoning  in  the  above  treatise  is  for 
us  abstruse  and  fanciful  ;  yet  many  will  agree  with  the 
conclusion,  that  all  kinds  of  knowledge  may  minister  to  our 
thought  of  God,  and  of  man's  relationship  to  Him.  And 
with  Bonaventura,  all  his  knowledge,  his  study  of  secular 
philosophy,  his  logic  and  powers  of  presentation,  had  theology 
unfailingly  in  view,  and  ministered  to  the  satisfaction,  the 

1  This  is  from  §  26,  the  last  in  the  work.  Bonaventura  has  already  said 
(§  7) :  "  Omnes  istae  cognitiones  ad  cognitionem  Sacrae  Scripturae  ordinantur,  in 
ea  clauduntur  et  in  ilia  perficiuntur,  et  mediante  ilia  ad  aeternam  illuminationem 
ordinantur."  ("All  kinds  of  knowledge  are  ordained  for  the  knowledge  of  Holy 
Scripture,  are  in  it  enclosed  and  thereby  are  perfected  ;  and  through  its  mediation 
are  ordered  for  eternal  illumination.") 


408  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

actualization  (to  use  our  old  word)  of  his  religious  nature.  He 
belongs  among  those  intellectually  gifted  men — Augustine, 
Anselm,  Hugo  of  St.  Victor — whose  mental  and  emotional 
powers  draw  always  to  God,  and  minister  to  the  conception 
of  the  soul's  union  with  the  living  spring  of  its  being.  The 
life,  the  labours  of  Bonaventura  were  as  the  title  of  the  little 
book  we  have  just  been  worrying  with,  a  reductio  artium  ad 
theologiam,  a  constant  adapting  of  all  knowledge  and  ways 
of  meditation,  to  the  sense  of  God  and  the  soul's  inclusion 
in  the  love  divine.  No  one  should  expect  to  find  among 
his  compositions  any  independent  treatment  of  secular 
knowledge  for  its  own  sake.  Rather  throughout  his  writings 
the  reasonings  of  philosophy  are  found  always  ministering 
to  the  sovereign  theme. 

The  most  elaborate  of  Bonaventura's  doctrinal  works 
was  his  Commentary  upon  the  Lombard's  Sentences.  In 
form  and  substance  it  was  a  Summa  theologiae}  He  also 
made  a  brief  and  salutary  theological  compend,  which  he 
called  the  Breviloquium?  The  note  of  devotional  piety  is 
struck  by  the  opening  sentence,  taken  from  the  Epistle  to 
the  Ephesians,  and  is  held  throughout  the  work  : 

" '  I  bow  my  knees  unto  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
from  whom  the  whole  fatherhood  in  heaven  and  earth  is  named, 
that  He  would  grant  you  according  to  the  riches  of  His  glory  to  be 
strengthened  by  His  Spirit  in  the  inner  man ;  that  Christ  may  dwell 
in  your  hearts  through  faith ;  that  ye,  being  rooted  and  grounded 
in  love,  may  be  able  to  comprehend  with  all  saints,  what  is  the 
breadth  and  length  and  height  and  depth  ;  and  to  know  the  love 
of  Christ  which  passeth  knowledge,  that  ye  might  be  filled  in  all 
the  fulness  of  God.'  The  great  doctor  of  the  Gentiles  discloses  in 
these  words  the  source,  progress,  and  state  (ortus,  progressus,  status] 
of  Holy  Scripture,  which  is  called  Theology;  indicating  that  the 
source  is  to  be  thought  upon  according  to  the  grace  (influentiani) 
of  the  most  blessed  Trinity;  the  progress  with  reference  to  the 
needs  of  human  capacity ;  and  the  state  or  fruit  with  respect  to  the 
superabundance  of  a  superplenary  felicity. 

"  For  the  Source  lies  not  in  human  investigation,  but  in  divine 
revelation,  which  flows  from  the  Father  of  lights,  from  whom  all 
fatherhood  in  heaven  and  earth  is  named,  from  whom,  through  His 

1  It  is  contained  in  tomes  i.  -iv.  of  the  Quaracchi  edition. 
2  T.  v.  pp.  201-291. 


CHAP,  xxxvin  BONAVENTURA  409 

Son  Jesus  Christ,  the  Holy  Spirit  flows  in  us;  and  through  the 
Holy  Spirit  bestowing,  as  He  wills,  gifts  on  each,  faith  is  given,  and 
through  faith  Christ  dwells  in  our  hearts.  This  is  the  knowledge 
of  Jesus  Christ,  from  which,  as  from  a  source,  comes  the  certitude 
and  understanding  of  the  whole  Scripture.  Wherefore  it  is 
impossible  that  any  one  should  advance  in  its  knowledge,  unless  he 
first  has  Christ  infused  in  him.  .  .  . 

"  The  Progress  of  Holy  Scripture  is  not  bound  to  the  laws  of 
reasonings  and  definitions,  like  the  other  sciences  ;  but,  conformably 
to  supernatural  light,  proceeds  to  give  to  man  the  wayfarer  (homini 
viatori)  a  knowledge  of  things  sufficing  for  his  salvation,  by  plain 
words  in  part,  and  in  part  mystically :  it  presents  the  contents  of 
the  universe  as  in  a  Summa,  in  which  is  observed  the  breadth ;  it 
describes  the  descent  (from  above)  in  which  is  considered  the 
length ;  it  describes  the  goodness  of  the  saved,  in  which  is  considered 
the  height;  it  describes  the  misery  of  the  damned,  in  which 
consists  the  depth  not  only  of  the  universe  itself  but  of  the  divine 
judgment.  .  .  . 

"  The  State  or  fruit  of  Holy  Scripture  is  the  plentitude  of  eternal 
felicity.  For  the  Book  containing  words  of  eternal  life  was  written 
not  only  that  we  might  believe,  but  that  we  might  have  eternal  life, 
in  which  we  shall  see,  we  shall  love,  and  all  our  desires  shall  be 
filled,  whereupon  we  shall  know  the  love  which  passeth  knowledge, 
and  be  filled  in  all  the  fulness  of  God.  .  .  . 

"  As  to  the  progress  of  Scripture,  first  is  to  be  considered  the 
breadth,  which  consists  in  the  multitude  of  parts.  .  .  .  Rightly  is 
Holy  Scripture  divided  into  the  Old  and  New  Testament,  and  not 
in  theorica  and  practica,  like  philosophy ;  because  since  Scripture  is 
founded  on  the  knowledge  of  faith,  which  is  a  virtue  and  the  basis 
of  morals,  it  is  not  possible  to  separate  in  Scripture  the  knowledge 
of  things,  or  of  what  is  to  be  believed,  from  the  knowledge  of 
morals.  It  is  otherwise  with  philosophy,  which  handles  not  only 
the  truth  of  morals,  but  the  true,  speculatively  considered.  Then 
as  Holy  Scripture  is  knowledge  (notitia)  moving  to  good  and  recalling 
from  evil,  through  fear  and  love,  so  it  is  divided  into  two  Testaments, 
whose  difference,  briefly,  is  fear  and  love.  .  .  . 

"  Holy  Scripture  has  also  length,  which  consists  in  the  description 
of  times  and  ages  from  the  beginning  to  the  day  of  Judgment  .  .  . 
The  progress  of  the  whole  world  is  described  by  Scripture,  as  in  a 
beautiful  poem,  wherein  one  may  follow  the  descent  of  time,  and 
contemplate  the  variety,  manifoldness,  equity,  order,  righteousness, 
and  beauty  of  the  multitude  of  divine  judgments  proceeding  from 
the  wisdom  of  God  ruling  the  world :  and  as  with  a  poem,  so  with 
this  ordering  of  the  world,  one  cannot  see  its  beauty  save  by 
considering  the  whole.  .  .  . 

"  No  less  has  Sacred  Scripture  height  (sublimitatem\  consisting  in 


410  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

description  of  the  ranged  hierarchies,  the  ecclesiastical,  angelic,  and 
divine.  .  .  .  Even  as  things  have  being  in  matter  or  nature,  they 
have  also  being  in  the  anima  through  its  acquired  knowledge ;  they 
have  also  being  in  the  anima  through  grace,  also  through  glory  ;  and 
they  have  also  being  in  the  way  of  the  eternal — in  arte  aeterna. 
Philosophy  treats  of  things  as  they  are  in  nature,  or  in  the  anima 
according  to  the  knowledge  which  is  naturally  implanted  or  acquired. 
But  theology  as  a  science  (scientia)  founded  upon  faith  and  revealed 
by  the  Holy  Spirit,  treats  of  those  matters  which  belong  to  grace 
and  glory  and  to  the  eternal  wisdom.  Whence  placing  philosophic 
cognition  beneath  itself,  and  drawing  from  nature  (de  naturis  rerum) 
as  much  as  it  may  need  to  make  a  mirror  yielding  a  reflection  of 
things  divine,  it  constructs  a  ladder  which  presses  the  earth  at  the 
base,  and  touches  heaven  at  the  top :  and  all  this  through  that  one 
hierarch  Jesus  Christ,  who  through  his  assumption  of  human  nature, 
is  hierarch  not  in  the  ecclesiastical  hierarchy  alone,  but  also  in  the 
angelic;  and  is  the  medial  person  in  the  divine  hierarchy  of  the 
most  blessed  Trinity." l 

The  depth  (profunditas}  of  Scripture  consists  in  its 
manifold  mystic  meanings.  It  reveals  these  meanings  of 
the  creature  world  for  the  edification  of  man  journeying  to 
his  fatherland.  Scripture  throughout  its  breadth,  length, 
height,  and  depth  uses  narrative,  threat,  exhortation,  and 
promise  all  for  one  end.  "  For  this  doctrina  exists  in  order 
that  we  may  become  good  and  be  saved,  which  comes  not 
through  naked  consideration,  but  rather  through  inclination 
of  the  will.  .  .  .  Here  examples  have  more  effect  than 
arguments,  promises  are  more  moving  than  ratiocinations, 
and  devotion  is  better  than  definition."  Hence  Scripture 
does  not  follow  the  method  and  divisions  of  other  sciences, 
but  uses  its  own  diverse  means  for  its  saving  end.  The 
Prologue  closes  with  rules  of  Scriptural  interpretation.2 

In  our  plan  of  following  what  is  of  human  interest  in 
mediaeval  philosophy  or  theology,  prologues  and  introductions 
are  sometimes  of  more  importance  than  the  works  which 
they  preface ;  for  they  disclose  the  writer's  intent  and 
purpose,  and  the  endeavour  within  him,  which  may  be  more 

1  Breviloquium,  Prologus. 

2  One  feels  the  reality  of  Bonaventura's  distinctions  here  between  theology 
and  philosophy.     They  are  enunciations  of  his  religious  sense,  and  possess  a 
stronger  validity  than  any  elaborate  attempt  to  distinguish  by  argument  between 
the    two.      Thomas    distinguishes    them    with    excellent    reasoning.      It   lacks 
convincingness   perhaps   from   the   fact   that  Thomas's   theology   is   so  largely 
philosophy,  as  Roger  Bacon  said. 


CHAP,  xxxvin  BONAVENTURA  411 

intimately  himself,  than  his  performance.  So  more  space  has 
been  given  to  Bonaventura's  Prologue  than  the  body  of  the 
treatise  will  require.  The  order  of  topics  is  that  of  the 
Lombard's  Sentences  or  Aquinas's  Summa,  Seven  successive 
paries  consider  the  Trinity,  the  creation,  the  corruption  from 
sin,  the  Incarnation,  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  the 
sacramental  medicine,  and  the  Last  Judgment.  Each  pars 
is  divided  into  chapters  setting  forth  some  special  topic. 
Bonaventura's  method,  pursued  in  every  chapter,  is  to  state 
first  the  scriptural  or  dogmatic  propositions,  and  then  give 
their  reason,  which  he  introduces  with  such  words  as  :  Ratio 
autem  ad  praedictorum  intelligentiam  haec  est.  The  work  is 
a  complete  systematic  compend  of  Christian  theology ;  its 
conciseness  and  lucidity  of  statement  are  admirable.  For 
an  example  of  its  method  and  quality,  the  first  chapter  of 
the  sixth  part  may  be  given,  upon  the  origin  of  Sacraments. 

"  Having  treated  of  the  Trinity  of  God,  of  the  creation  of  the 
world,  the  corruption  of  sin,  the  incarnation  of  the  Word,  and  the 
grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  it  is  time  to  treat  of  the  sacramental 
medicine,  regarding  which  there  are  seven  matters  to  consider :  the 
origin  of  the  sacraments,  their  variation,  distinction,  appointment, 
dispensation,  repetition,  and  the  integrity  of  each. 

"  Concerning x  the  origin  of  the  Sacraments  this  is  to  be  held, 
that  sacraments  are  sensible  signs  divinely  appointed  as  medicaments, 
in  which  under  cover  of  things  sensible,  divine  virtue  secretly 
operates ;  also  that  from  likeness  they  represent,  from  appointment 
they  signify,  from  sanctification  they  confer,  some  spiritual  grace, 
through  which  the  soul  is  healed  from  the  infirmities  of  vice ;  and 
for  this  as  their  final  end  they  are  ordained ;  yet  they  avail  for 
humility,  instruction,  and  exercise  as  for  a  subsidiary  end. 

"  The  reason  and  explanation  of  the  aforesaid  is  this :  The 
reparative  principle  (principium),  is  Christ  crucified,  to  wit,  the 
Word  incarnate,  that  directs  all  things  most  compassionately 
because  divine,  and  most  compassionately  heals  because  divinely 
incarnate.  It  must  repair,  heal,  and  save  the  sick  human  race,  in 
a  way  suited  to  the  sick  one,  the  sickness  and  the  occasion  of  it, 
and  the  cure  of  the  sickness.  The  physician  is  the  incarnate  Word, 
to  wit,  God  invisible  in  a  visible  nature.  The  sick  man  is  not 
simply  spirit,  nor  simply  flesh,  but  spirit  in  mortal  flesh.  The 
disease  is  original  sin,  which  through  ignorance  infects  the  mind, 

1  As  this  chapter  opens  a  pars,  it  begins  with  a  recapitulation  of  what  has 
preceded  and  a  summary  of  what  is  to  come.  The  specific  topic  of  the  chapter 
commences  here. 


4i2  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

and  through  concupiscence  infects  the  flesh.  While  the  origin  of 
this  fault  primarily  lay  in  reason's  consent,  yet  its  occasion  came 
from  the  senses  of  the  body.  Consequently,  in  order  that  the 
medicine  should  correspond  to  these  conditions,  it  should  be  not 
simply  spiritual,  but  should  have  somewhat  of  sensible  signs ;  for 
as  things  sensible  were  the  occasion  of  the  soul's  falling,  they 
should  be  the  occasion  of  its  rising  again.  Yet  since  visible  signs 
of  themselves  have  no  efficiency  ordained  for  grace,  although 
representative  of  its  nature,  it  was  necessary  that  they  should  by 
the  author  of  grace  be  appointed  to  signify  and  should  be  blessed 
in  order  to  sanctify ;  so  that  there  should  be  a  representation  from 
natural  likeness,  a  signification  from  appointment,  and  a  sanctifica- 
tion  and  preparedness  for  grace  from  the  added  benediction, 
through  which  our  soul  may  be  cured  and  made  whole. 

"Again,  since  curative  grace  is  not  given  to  the  puffed  up,  the 
unbelieving,  and  disdainful,  so  these  sensible  signs  divinely  given, 
ought  to  be  such  as  not  only  would  sanctify  and  confer  grace,  and 
heal,  but  also  would  instruct  by  their  signification,  humble  by  their 
acceptance,  and  exercise  through  their  diversity ;  that  thus  through 
exercise  despondency  (acedia)  should  be  shut  out  from  the  de- 
siderative  [nature],  through  instruction  ignorance  be  shut  out  from 
the  rational  [nature],  through  humiliation  pride  be  shut  out  from 
the  irascible  [nature],  and  the  whole  soul  become  curable  by  the 
grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  which  remakes  us  according  to  these 
three  capacities  (foienttas)1  into  the  image  of  the  Trinity  and 
Christ.  Finally,  whereas  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  received 
through  these  sensible  signs  divinely  appointed,  it  is  found  in  them 
as  an  accident.  Hence  sacraments  of  this  kind  are  called  the 
vessels  and  cause  of  grace:  not  that  grace  is  of  their  substance 
or  produced  by  them  as  by  a  cause ;  for  its  place  is  in  the  soul, 
and  it  is  infused  by  God  alone;  but  because  it  is  ordained  by 
divine  decree,  that  in  them  and  through  them  we  shall  draw  the 
grace  of  cure  from  the  supreme  physician,  Christ ;  although  God 
has  not  fettered  His  grace  to  the  sacraments.2 

"From  the  premises,  therefore,  appears  not  only  what  may  be 
the  origin  of  the  sacraments,  but  also  the  use  and  fruit.  For  their 
origin  is  Christ  the  Lord;  their  use  is  the  act  which  exercises, 
teaches,  and  humbles ;  their  fruit  is  the  cure  and  salvation  of  men. 
It  is  also  evident  that  the  efficient  cause  of  the  sacraments  is  the 
divine  appointment ;  their  material  cause  is  the  figurement  of  the 
sensible  sign ;  their  formal  cause  the  sanctification  by  grace ; 
their  final  cause  the  medicinal  healing  of  men.  And  because  they 
are  named  from  their  form  and  end  they  are  called  sacraments, 

1  /.«.  the  desiderative,  rational,  and  irascible  elements  in  man. 
-  Bonaventura  closely  follows  Hugo  of  St.  Victor's  De  sacramentis,  see  ante, 
Chap.  XXVIII.,  especially  p.  72. 


CHAP,  xxxvm  BONAVENTURA  41, 

as  it  were  medicamenta  sanctificantia.  Through  them  the  soul  is 
led  back  from  the  filth  of  vice  to  perfect  sanctification.  And  so, 
although  corporeal  and  sensible,  they  are  medicinal,  and  to  be 
venerated  as  holy  because  they  signify  holy  mysteries,  and  make 
ready  for  the  holy  gifts  (charismata)  given  by  most  holy  God ;  and 
they  are  divinely  consecrated  by  holy  institution  and  benediction 
for  the  holiest  worship  of  God  appointed  in  holy  church,  so  that 
rightly  they  should  be  called  sacraments." 

The  Breviloquium  was  Bonaventura's  rational  com- 
pendium of  Christian  theology.  It  offered  in  brief  compass 
as  complete  a  system  as  the  bulkiest  Summa  could  carry 
out  to  doctrinal  elaboration.  Quite  different  in  method  and 
intent  was  his  equally  famous  Itinerarium  mentis  in  Deuin? 
the  praise  of  which,  according  to  the  great  Chancellor 
Gerson,  could  not  fitly  be  uttered  by  mortal  mouth.  We 
have  seen  how  in  the  Reductio  artium  ad  theologian  Bona- 
ventura  conformed  all  modes  of  perception  and  knowledge 
to  the  uses  and  modes  of  theology  ;  the  final  end  of  which 
is  man's  salvation,  consisting  in  the  union  of  the  soul  with 
God,  through  every  form  of  enlightenment  and  all  the 
power  of  love.  The  Breviloquium  has  given  the  sum  of 
Christian  doctrine,  an  intelligent  and  heart-felt  understand- 
ing of  which  leads  to  salvation.  And  now  the  Itinerarium 
— well,  it  is  best  to  let  Bonaventura  tell  how  he  came  to 
compose  it,  and  of  its  purpose  and  character. 

"  Since,  after  the  example  of  our  most  blessed  father  Francis,  I 
pant  in  spirit  for  the  peace  which  he  preached  in  the  manner  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  I  a  sinner  who  am  the  seventh,  all  un- 
worthy, Minister- General  of  the  Brethren, — it  happened  that  by 
God's  will  in  the  thirty-third  year  after  our  blessed  father's  death, 
I  turned  aside  to  the  mountain  of  Alverna,  as  to  a  quiet  place, 
seeking  the  spirit's  peace.  While  I  lingered  there  my  mind  dwelt 
on  the  ascensions  of  the  spirit,  and,  among  others,  on  the  miracle 
which  in  that  very  spot  came  to  blessed  Francis,  when  he  saw  the 
winged  Seraph  in  the  likeness  of  the  Crucified.  And  it  seemed 
to  me  his  vision  represented  the  suspension  of  our  father  in 
contemplation,  and  the  way  by  which  he  came  to  it.  For  by 
those  six  wings  may  be  understood  the  suspensions  of  the  six 
illuminations,  by  which  the  soul,  as  by  steps  and  journeys,  through 
ecstatic  outpourings  of  Christian  wisdom,  is  prepared  to  pass 
beyond  to  peace.  For  the  way  lies  only  through  love  of  the 


1  Opera,  t.  v.  pp.  295-313. 


414  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

Crucified,  which  so  transformed  Paul  carried  to  the  third  heaven, 
that  he  could  say :  '  I  am  crucified  with  Christ :  nevertheless  I 
live ;  yet  not  I,  but  Christ  liveth  in  me.'  So  the  image  of  the  six 
seraph's  wings  represents  the  six  rungs  of  illumination,  which  begin 
with  the  creatures  and  lead  on  to  God,  to  whom  no  one  can  come 
save  through  the  Crucified.  .  .  . 

"  For  one  is  not  prepared  for  the  divine  contemplations,  which 
lead  to  the  rapt  visions  of  the  mind,  unless  he  be  with  Daniel,  a 
man  of  desires.1  Desires  are  stirred  within  us  by  the  cry  of  prayer 
and  the  bright  light  of  speculation.  I  shall  invite  the  reader  first 
to  the  sighings  of  prayer  through  Christ  crucified,  lest  perchance 
he  believe  that  study  might  suffice  without  unction,  or  diligence 
without  piety,  knowledge  without  charity,  zeal  without  divine  grace, 
or  the  mirror  (speculum)  without  the  wisdom  divinely  inspired. 
Then  to  those  humble  and  devout  ones,  to  whom  grace  first  has 
come,  to  those  lovers  of  the  divine  wisdom,  who  burn  with  desire 
of  it,  and  are  willing  to  be  still,  for  the  magnifying  of  God,  I  shall 
propose  pertinent  speculations,  showing  how  little  or  nothing  is  it 
to  turn  the  mirror  outward  unless  the  mirror  of  our  mind  be 
rubbed  and  polished." 

Thus  Bonaventura  writes  his  prologue  to  this  devotional 
tract,  which  will  also  hold  "  pertinent  speculations."  Re- 
markable is  the  intellectuality  and  compacted  thought 
which  he  fuses  in  emotional  expression.  He  will  write 
seven  chapters,  on  the  seven  steps,  or  degrees,  in  the  ascent 
to  God,  which  is  the  mind's  true  itinerarium.  Since  we 
cannot  by  ourselves  lift  ourselves  above  ourselves,  prayer  is 
the  very  mother  and  source  of  our  upward  struggle.  Prayer 
opens  our  eyes  to  the  steps  in  the  ascent.  Placed  in  the 
universe  of  things,  we  find  in  it  the  corporeal  and  temporal 
footprint  (vestigium}  leading  into  the  way  of  God.  Then 
we  enter  our  mind,  which  is  the  everlasting  and  spiritual 
image  of  God ;  and  this  is  to  enter  the  truth  of  God. 
Whereupon  we  should  rise  above  us  to  the  eternal  most 
spiritual  first  cause ;  and  this  is  to  rejoice  in  the  knowledge 
of  God's  majesty.  This  is  the  threefold  illumination,  by 
which  we  recognise  the  triple  existence  of  things,  in  matter, 
in  the  intelligence,  and  in  the  divine  way — in  arte  divina. 
And  likewise  our  mind  has  three  outlooks,  one  upon  the 
corporeal  world  without,  which  is  called  sense,  another  into 
and  within  itself,  which  is  called  spiritus,  and  a  third  above 

1    Vir  dcsideriorum,  Dan.  ix.  23  (Vulgate). 


CHAP,  xxxvin  BONAVENTURA  415 

itself,  which  is  called  mens.  By  means  of  all  three,  man 
should  set  himself  to  rising  toward  God,  and  love  Him 
with  the  whole  mind,  and  heart,  and  soul. 

Then  Bonaventura  makes  further  analysis  of  his  triple 
illumination  into 

"  six  degrees  or  powers  of  the  soul,  to  wit,  sense,  imagination, 
reason,  intellect,  intelligence,  and  apex  mentis  seu  synteresis  scintilla. 
These  degrees  are  planted  within  us  by  nature,  deformed  through 
fault,  reformed  through  grace,  purged  through  righteousness, 
exercised  through  knowledge,  perfected  through  wisdom.  .  .  . 
Whoever  wishes  to  ascend  to  God  should  shun  the  sins  which 
deform  nature,  and  stretch  forth  his  natural  powers,  in  prayer, 
toward  reforming  grace,  in  mode  of  life,  toward  purifying  righteous- 
ness, in  meditation,  toward  illuminating  knowledge,  in  contempla- 
tion toward  the  wisdom  which  makes  perfect.  For  as  no  one 
reaches  wisdom  except  through  grace,  righteousness,  and  knowledge, 
so  no  one  reaches  contemplation,  except  through  meditation,  a 
holy  life,  and  devout  prayer." 

Chapter  one  closes  with  little  that  is  novel ;  for  we 
seem  to  be  retracing  the  thoughts  of  Hugo  of  St  Victor. 
The  second  chapter  is  on  the  "  Contemplation  of  God  in 
His  Footprints  in  the  Sensible  World."  This  is  the  next 
grade  of  speculation,  because  we  shall  now  contemplate  God 
not  only  through  His  footprints,  but  in  them  also,  so  far  as 
He  is  in  them  through  essence,  power,  or  presence.  The 
sensible  world,  the  macrocosmus,  enters  the  microcosmus, 
which  is  the  anima,  through  the  gates  of  the  five  senses. 
The  author  sketches  the  processes  of  sense-perception, 
through  which  outer  facts  are  apprehended  according  to 
their  species,  and  delighted  in  if  pleasing,  and  then  adjudged 
according  to  the  ratio  of  their  delightfulness,  to  wit,  their 
beauty,  sweetness,  salubrity,  and  proportion.  Such  are  the 
footprints  in  which  we  may  contemplate  our  God.  All 
things  knowable  possess  the  quality  of  generating  their 
species  in  our  minds,  through  the  medium  of  our  perceptions  ; 
and  thus  we  are  led  to  contemplate  the  eternal  generation 
of  the  Word — image  and  Son — from  the  Father.  Like- 
wise sweetness  and  beauty  point  on  to  their  fontal  source. 
And  from  speculation  on  the  local,  the  temporal,  and 
mutable,  our  reason  carries  us  to  the  thought  of  the  immut- 
able, the  uncircumscribed  and  eternal.  Then  from  the 


416  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

beauty  and  delightfulness  of  things,  we  pass  to  the  thought 
of  number  and  proportion,  and  judge  of  their  irrefragable 
laws,  wherein  are  God's  wisdom  and  power. 

"  The  creatures  of  this  sensible  world  signify  the  invisible 
things  of  God  ;  in  part  because  God  is  the  source  and  exemplar 
and  end  of  every  creature ;  in  part  through  their  proper  likeness ; 
in  part  from  their  prophetic  prefiguring ;  in  part  from  angelic 
operations;  and  in  part  through  superadded  ordainment.  For 
every  creature  by  nature  is  an  effigy  of  the  eternal  wisdom ; 
especially  whatever  creature  in  Scripture  is  taken  by  the  spirit  of 
prophecy  as  a  type  of  the  spiritual ;  but  more  especially  those 
creatures  in  the  likeness  of  which  God  willed  to  appear  by  an 
angelic  minister;  and  most  especially  that  creature  which  he 
chose  to  mark  as  a  sacrament." 

From  these  first  grades  of  speculation,  which  contemplate 
the  footprints  of  God  in  the  world,  we  are  led  to  contemplate 
the  divine  image  in  the  natural  powers  of  our  minds.  We 
find  the  image  of  the  most  blessed  Trinity  in  our  memory, 
our  rational  intelligence,  and  our  will ;  the  joint  action  of 
which  leads  on  to  the  desire  of  the  summum  bonum.  Next 
we  contemplate  the  divine  image  in  our  minds  remade  by 
the  gifts  of  grace  upon  which  we  must  enter  by  the  door 
of  the  faith,  hope,  and  love  of  the  Mediator  of  God  and 
men,  Jesus  Christ.  As  philosophy  helped  us  to  see  the 
image  of  God  in  the  natural  qualities  of  our  mind,  so 
Scripture  now  is  needed  to  bring  us  to  these  three  theological 
virtues  (faith,  hope,  and  love),  which  enable  the  mind  of 
fallen  man  to  be  repaired  and  made  anew  through  grace. 

From  this  fourth  grade,  in  which  God  is  still  con- 
templated in  his  image,  we  rise  to  consider  God  as  pure 
being,  wherein  there  is  neither  privation,  nor  bound,  nor 
particularity ;  and  next  in  his  goodness,  the  highest  com- 
municability  (summam  communicabilitatem)  of  which  may 
be  contemplated,  but  not  comprehended,  in  the  mystery  of 
the  most  blessed  Trinity.  "In  whom  [the  persons  of  the 
Trinity]  it  is  necessary  because  of  the  summa  bonitas  that 
there  should  be  the  summa  communicabilitas,  and  because 
of  the  latter,  the  summa  consubstantialitas,  and  because  of 
this  the  summa  configurabilitas,  and  from  these  the  summa- 
coaequalitas,  and  through  this  the  summa  coaeternitas ,  and 


CHAP,  xxxviii  BON  A  VENTURA  4x7 

from  all  the  preceding  the  summa  cointinritas,  by  which  each 
is  in  the  other,  and  one  works  with  the  other  through  every 
conceivable  indivisibility  (indivisionem)  of  the  substance, 
virtue,  and  operation  of  the  same  most  blessed  Trinity.  .  .  ." 
"  And  when  thou  contemplatest  this,"  adds  Bonaventura, 
"  do  not  think  to  comprehend  the  incomprehensible." 

From  age  to  age  the  religious  soul  finds  traces  of  its 
God  in  nature  and  in  its  inmost  self.  Its  ways  of  finding 
change,  varying  with  the  prevailing  currents  of  knowledge  ; 
yet  still  it  ever  finds  these  vestigia,  which  represent  the 
widest  deductions  of  its  reasoning,  the  ultimate  resultants 
of  its  thought,  and  its  own  brooding  peace.  Therefore  may  we 
not  follow  sympathetically  the  Itinerarium  of  Bonaventura's 
mind  as  it  traces  the  footprints  of  its  God  ?  Thus  far  the 
way  has  advanced  by  reason,  uplifted  by  grace,  and  yet 
still  reason.  This  reason  has  comprehended  what  it  might 
comprehend  of  the  traces  and  evidences  of  God  in  the 
visible  creation  and  the  soul  of  man ;  it  has  sought  to 
apprehend  the  being  of  God,  but  has  humbly  recognized  its 
inability  to  penetrate  the  marvels  of  his  goodness  in  the 
mystery  of  the  most  blessed  Trinity.  There  it  stops  at  the 
sixth  grade  of  contemplation  ;  yet  not  baffled,  or  rendered 
vain,  for  it  has  performed  its  function  and  brought  the  soul 
on  to  where  she  may  fling  forth  from  reason's  steeps,  and 
find  herself  again,  buoyant  and  blissful,  in  a  medium  of 
super-rational  contemplation.  This  makes  the  last  chapter 
of  the  mind's  Itinerarium  ;  it  is  the  apex  mentis,  the  summit  of 
all  contemplations  in  which  the  mind  has  rest.  Henceforth 

"  Christ  is  the  way  and  door,  the  ladder  and  the  vehicle,  as  the 
propitiation  placed  on  the  Ark  of  God,  and  the  sacrament  hidden 
from  the  world.  He  who  looks  on  this  propitiation,  with  his  look 
full  fixed  on  him  who  hangs  upon  the  cross,  through  faith,  hope, 
and  charity,  and  all  devotion,  he  makes  his  Passover,  and  through 
the  rod  of  the  cross  shall  pass  through  the  Red  Sea,  out  of  Egypt 
entering  the  desert,  and  there  taste  the  hidden  manna,  and  rest 
with  Christ  in  the  tomb,  dead  to  all  without;  and  shall  realize, 
though  as  one  still  on  the  way,  the  word  of  Christ  to  the  believing 
thief:  'To-day  thou  shall  be  with  me  in  Paradise.'  Which  was  also 
revealed  to  the  blessed  Francis  when  in  ecstasy  of  contemplation 
on  the  high  mountain,  the  Seraph  with  six  wings,  nailed  on  a 
cross,  appeared  to  him.  There,  as  we  have  heard  from  his  com- 
VOL.  II  2  E 


4i8  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

panion,  he  passed  into  God  through  ecstasy  of  contemplation,  and 
was  set  as  an  exemplar  of  perfect  contemplation,  whereby  God 
should  invite  all  truly  spiritual  men  to  this  transit  and  ecstasy,  by 
example  rather  than  by  word.  In  this  passing  over,  if  it  be  perfect, 
all  the  ways  of  reason  are  relinquished,  and  the  apex  affectus  is 
transferred  and  transformed  into  God.  This  is  the  mystic  secret 
known  by  no  one  who  does  not  receive  it,  and  received  by  none 
who  does  not  desire  it,  and  desired  only  by  him  whose  heart's  core 
is  aflame  from  the  fire  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  whom  Christ  sent  on 
earth.  .  .  .  Since  then  nature  avails  nothing  here,  and  diligence 
but  little,  we  should  give  ourselves  less  to  investigation  and  more 
to  unction ;  little  should  be  given  to  speech,  and  most  to  inner 
gladness ;  little  to  the  written  word,  and  all  to  God's  gift  the 
Holy  Spirit ;  little  or  nothing  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the  creature,  and 
all  to  the  creative  essence,  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit." 

Here  Bonaventura  loses  himself  in  an  untranslatable 
extract  from  Eriugena's  version  of  the  Areopagite,  and  then 
proceeds : 

"If  thou  askest  how  may  these  things  be,  interrogate  grace 
and  not  doctrine,  desire  and  not  knowledge,  the  groaning  of  prayer 
rather  than  study,  the  Spouse  rather  than  the  teacher,  God  and 
not  man,  mist  rather  than  clarity,  not  light  but  fire  all  aflame  and 
bearing  on  to  God  by  devotion  and  glowing  affection.  Which  fire 
is  God,  and  the  man  Christ  kindles  it  in  the  fervour  of  his  passion, 
as  only  he  perceives  who  says  :  '  My  soul  chooseth  strangling  and 
my  bones,  death.'  He  who  loves  this  death  shall  see  God.  Then 
let  us  die  and  pass  into  darkness,  and  silence  our  solicitudes,  our 
desires,  and  phantasies ;  let  us  pass  over  with  Christ  crucified 
from  this  world  to  the  Father ;  that  the  Father  shown  us,  we  may 
say  with  Philip  :  '  it  sufficed!  us.'  Let  us  hear  with  Paul :  '  My  grace 
is  sufficient  for  thee.'  Let  us  exult  with  David,  saying:  'Defecit 
caro  mea  et  cor  meum,  Deus  cordis  mei  et  pars  mea  Deus  in 
aeternum  '."  * 

It  is  best  to  leave  the  saint  and  doctor  here,  and  not 
follow  in  other  treatises  the  current  of  his  yearning  thought 
till  it  divides  in  streamlets  which  press  on  their  tortuous 
ways  through  allegory  and  the  adumbration  of  what  the 
mind  disclaims  the  power  to  express  directly.  Those  more 
elaborate  treatises  of  his,  which  are  called  mystic,  are 
difficult  for  us  to  read.  As  with  Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  from 
whom  he  drew  so  largely,  Bonaventura's  expression  of  his 

1  The  Breviloquium  and  Itinerarium   are  conveniently  edited  by  Hefele  in 
a  little  volume  (Tubingen,  1861). 


CHAP,  xxxviii  BONAVENTURA  419 

religious  yearnings  may  interest  and  move  us  ;  but  one  needs 
perhaps  the  cloister's  quiet  to  follow  on  through  the  allegorical 
elaboration  of  this  pietism.  Bonaventura's  Soliloquium  might 
weary  us  after  the  Itinerarium,  and  we  should  read  his  De 
septem  itineribus  aeternitatis  with  no  more  pleasure  than 
Hugo's  Mystic  Ark  of  Noah.  It  is  enough  to  witness  the 
spiritual  attitude  of  these  men  without  tracking  them 
through  the  "  selva  oscura  "  to  their  lairs  of  meditation. 


CHAPTER    XXXIX 

ALBERTUS    MAGNUS 

ALBERT  THE  GREAT  was  prodigious  in  the  mass  of  his 
accomplishment.  Therein  lay  his  importance  for  the  age 
he  lived  in ;  therein  lies  his  interest  for  us.  For  him, 
substantial  philosophy,  as  distinguished  from  the  instru- 
mental r61e  of  logic,  had  three  parts,  set  by  nature,  rather 
than  devised  by  man  ;  they  are  physics,  mathematics,  and 
metaphysics.  "It  is  our  intention,"  says  Albert  at  the 
beginning  of  his  exposition  of  Aristotle's  Physics,  "  to  make 
all  the  said  parts  intelligible  to  the  Latins."  And  he  did. 
Perhaps  the  world  has  had  no  greater  purveyor  of  a 
knowledge  not  his  own.  He  is  comparable  with  Boethius, 
who  gave  the  Latin  world  the  Aristotelian  Organon,  a  gift 
but  half  availed  of  for  many  centuries.  Albert  gave  his 
Latin  world  the  rest  of  Aristotle,  the  philosophia  realis. 
His  world  was  as  ready  to  receive  this  great  donation,  as 
the  time  of  Boethius  was  unready  to  profit  by  any  intel- 
lectual gift  demanding  mental  energies  for  its  assimilation. 
Boethius  stood  alone  in  his  undertaking  ;  if  his  hand  failed 
there  was  none  to  take  up  his  task.  Fate  stayed  his  hand  ; 
and  the  purpose  that  was  his,  to  render  the  whole  of  Plato 
and  Aristotle  intelligible  to  the  Latin  world,  perished  with 
him,  the  Latin  world  being  by  no  means  eager  for  the  whole 
of  Aristotle  and  Plato,  and  unfit  to  receive  it  had  it  been 
proffered.  But  Albert's  time  was  eager  ;  it  was  importunate 
for  the  very  enlargement  of  knowledge  which  Albert,  more 
than  any  other  man,  was  bringing  it.  An  age  obtains  what 
it  demands.  Albert  had  fellow-labourers,  some  preceding, 
some  assisting,  and  others  following  him,  to  perfect  the 

420 


CHAP,  xxxix  ALBERTUS  MAGNUS  421 

knowledge  in  which  he  worked,  and  build  it  into  the 
scholastic  Christian  scheme.  But  in  this  labour  of  purveyor- 
ship  he  overtopped  the  rest,  the  giant  of  them  all. 

He  was  born  Count  of  Bollstadt,  in  Suabia,  probably  in 
the  year  1193.  Whether  his  youth  was  passed  in  the 
profession  of  arms,  or  in  study,  is  not  quite  clear.  But 
while  still  young  he  began  his  years  of  studious  travel,  and 
at  Padua  in  1223  he  joined  the  Dominican  Order.  He 
became  a  miracle  of  learning,  reputed  also  as  one  who  could 
explain  the  phenomena  of  nature.  From  1228  to  1245  he 
taught  in  German  cities,  chiefly  at  Cologne.  Then  the 
scene  changed  to  Paris,  where  he  lectured  and  won  fame 
from  1245  to  1248.  With  this  period  begins  the  publica- 
tion of  his  philosophical  encyclopaedia.  Perhaps  it  was  first 
completed  in  1256.  But  Albert  kept  supplementing  and 
revising  it  until  his  death.  In  1248  he  was  remanded  to 
Cologne  to  establish  a  school  there.  His  life  continued 
devoted  to  study  and  teaching,  yet  with  interruptions.  For 
he  filled  the  office  of  Provincial  of  his  Order  for  Germany 
from  1254  to  1257,  and  was  compelled  to  be  Bishop  of 
Regensburg  from  1260  to  1262.  Then  he  insisted  on 
resigning,  and  retired  to  a  cloister  at  Cologne.  Naturally 
he  was  engaged  in  a  number  of  learned  controversies,  and 
was  burdened  with  numerous  ecclesiastical  affairs.  In 
1277  for  the  last  time  he  set  his  face  toward  Paris,  to 
defend  the  doctrines  and  memory  of  his  great  pupil,  who 
had  died  three  years  before.  His  own  illustrious  life  closed 
at  Cologne  on  the  fifteenth  of  November,  1280.  Albert 
was  a  man  of  piety,  conforming  strictly  to  the  rules  of  his 
Order.  It  is  said  that  he  refused  to  own  even  the  manu- 
scripts which  he  indited  ;  and  as  Dominican  Provincial  of 
Germany  he  walked  barefoot  on  his  journeys  through  the 
vast  territory  set  under  his  supervision.  Tradition  has  him 
exceeding  small  of  stature. 

Albert's  labours  finally  put  within  reach  of  his  con- 
temporaries the  sum  of  philosophy  and  science  contained 
in  the  works  of  Aristotle,  and  his  ancient,  as  well  as 
Arabian,  commentators.  The  undertaking  was  grandly 
conceived  ;  it  was  carried  out  with  tireless  energy  and 
massive  learning.  Let  us  observe  the  principles  which 


422  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

informed  the  mind  of  this  mighty  Teuton  scholar.  He 
transcribed  approvingly  the  opinion  expressed  by  Aristotle 
at  the  opening  of  the  Metaphysics,  that  the  love  of  know- 
ledge is  natural  to  man  ;  and  he  recognized  the  pleasure 
arising  from  knowledge  of  the  sensible  world,  apart  from 
considerations  of  utility.1  He  took  this  thought  from 
Aristotle  ;  but  the  proof  that  he  made  it  his  own  with 
power  lay  in  those  fifty  years  of  intellectual  toil  which 
produced  the  greatest  of  all  mediaeval  storehouses  of 
knowledge. 

In  his  reliance  on  his  sources,  Albert  is  mediaeval ;  his 
tendency  is  to  accept  the  opinion  which  he  is  reproducing, 
especially  when  it  is  the  opinion  of  Aristotle.  Yet  he 
protested  against  regarding  even  him  as  infallible.  "  He 
who  believes  that  Aristotle  was  God,  ought  to  believe  that 
he  never  erred.  If  one  regards  him  as  a  man,  then  surely 
he  may  err  as  well  as  we." z  Albert  was  no  Averroist  to 
adhere  to  all  the  views  of  the  Philosopher ;  he  pointedly 
differed  from  him  where  orthodoxy  demanded  it,  maintaining, 
for  instance,  the  creation  of  the  world  in  time,  contrary  to 
the  opinion  of  the  Peripatetics.  Albert,  and  with  him 
Aquinas,  had  not  accepted  merely  the  task  of  expounding 
Aristotle,  but  also  that  of  correcting  him  where  Truth  (with 
a  large  Christian  capital)  required  it.  Albert  held  that 
Aristotle  might  err,  and  that  he  did  not  know  everything. 
The  development  of  science  was  not  closed  by  his  death  : 
"  Dicendum  quod  scientiae  demonstrativae  non  omnes  factae 
sunt,  sed  plures  restant  adhuc  inveniendae." 3  This  is  not 
Roger  Bacon  speaking,  but  Albertus  ;  and  still  more  might 
one  think  to  hear  the  voice  of  the  recalcitrant  Franciscan  in 
the  words  :  "  Oportet  experimentum  non  in  uno  modo,  sed 
secundum  omnes  circumstantias  probare." 4  Yet  these  words 
too  are  Albert's,  and  he  is  speaking  of  the  observation  of 
nature's  phenomena  ;  regarding  which  one  shall  not  simply 
transcribe  the  ancient  statement ;  but  observe  with  his  own 
eyes  and  mind. 

1  Albertus,  Metaphysicorum  libri  XIII.,  lib.  i.  tract.  I,  cap.  4. 

2  Physic,  lib.  viii.  tract,  i,  cap.  14. 

3  Poster.  Analyt.  lib.  i.  tract.  I,  cap.  I.     This  and  the  previous  citation  are 
from  Mandonnet's  Siger  de  Brabant. 

*  Ethic,  lib.  vi.  tract.  2,  cap.  25. 


CHAP,  xxxix  ALBERTUS   MAGNUS 


423 


This  was  in  the  spirit  of  Aristotle  ;  Albert  recognizes 
and  approves.  But  did  he  make  the  experimental  principle 
his  own  with  power,  as  he  did  the  thought  that  the  desire 
to  know  is  inborn  ?  This  is  a  fundamental  question  as  to 
Albert.  No  one  denies  his  learning,  his  enormous  book- 
diligence.  But  was  he  also  an  observer  of  natural  pheno- 
mena ?  One  who  sought  to  test  from  his  own  observation 
the  statements  of  the  books  he  read  ?  It  is  best  here  to 
avoid  either  a  categorical  affirmation  or  denial.  The 
standard  by  which  one  shapes  one's  answer  is  important. 
Are  we  to  compare  Albert  with  a  St.  Bernard,  whose 
meditations  shut  his  eyes  to  mountains,  lakes,  and  woods  ? 
Or  are  we  to  apply  the  standards  of  a  natural  science  which 
looks  always  to  the  tested  results  of  observation  ?  There  is 
sufficient  evidence  in  Albert's  writings  to  show  that  he  kept 
his  eyes  open,  and  took  notice  of  interesting  phenomena, 
seen,  for  instance,  on  his  journeys.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  is  absurd  to  imagine  that  he  dreamed  of  testing  the 
written  matter  which  he  paraphrased,  or  of  materially 
adding  to  it,  by  systematic  observation  of  nature.  Accounts 
of  his  observations  do  not  always  raise  our  opinion  of  his 
science.  He  transcribes  the  description  of  certain  worms, 
and  says  that  they  may  come  from  horse-hairs,  for  he  has 
seen  horse-hairs,  in  still  water,  turning  into  worms.1  The 
trouble  was  that  Albert  had  no  general  understanding  of 
the  processes  of  nature.  Consequently,  in  his  De  animalibus 
for  instance,  he  gives  the  fabulous  as  readily  as  the  more 
reasonable.  Nevertheless  let  no  one  think  that  natural 
knowledge  did  not  really  interest  and  delight  him.  His 
study  of  plants  has  led  the  chief  historian  of  botany  to 
assert  that  Albert  was  the  first  real  botanist,  after  the 
ancient  Theophrastus,  inasmuch  as  he  studied  for  the  sake 
of  learning  the  nature  of  plants,  irrespective  of  their  medical 
or  agricultural  uses.2 

The  writings  of  Albertus  Magnus  represent,  perhaps 
more  fully  than  those  of  any  other  man,  the  round  of  know- 
ledge and  intellectual  interest  attracting  the  attention  of 
western  Europe  in  the  thirteenth  century.  At  first  glance 

1  Carus,  Ges.  der  Zoologie,  p.  231. 
2  Ernst  Meyer,  Ges.  der  Botanik,  Bd.  iv.  p.  77. 


424  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

they  seem  to  separate  into  those  which  in  form  and  substance 
are  paraphrases  of  Aristotelian  treatises,  or  borrowed  exposi- 
tions of  Aristotelian  topics ;  and  those  which  are  more 
independent  compositions.  Yet  the  latter,  like  the  Summa 
de  creaturis,  for  example,  will  be  found  to  consist  largely  of 
borrowed  material ;  the  matter  is  rearranged,  and  presented 
in  some  new  connection,  or  with  a  purpose  other  than  that 
of  its  source. 

In  his  Aristotelian  paraphrases,  which  were  thickly  sown 
with  digressive  expositions,  Albert's  method,  as  he  states  at 
the  beginning  of  the  Physica,  is  "  to  follow  the  order  and 
opinions  of  Aristotle,  and  to  give  in  addition  whatever  is 
needed  in  the  way  of  explanation  and  support ;  yet  without 
reproducing  Aristotle's  text  (tamen  quod  textus  eius  nulla 
fiat  mentio}.  And  we  shall  also  compose  digressiones  to 
expound  whatever  is  obscure."  The  titles  of  the  chapters 
will  indicate  whether  their  substance  is  from  Aristotle. 
Thus  inetead  of  giving  the  Aristotelian  text,  with  an  attached 
commentary,  Albert  combines  paraphrase  and  supplementary 
exposition.  Evidently  the  former  method  would  have  pre- 
sented Aristotle's  meaning  more  surely,  and  would  have 
thus  subserved  a  closer  scholarship.  But  for  this  the  Aris- 
totelian commentaries  of  Aquinas  must  be  awaited. 

The  compass  of  Albert's  achievement  as  a  purveyor  of 
ancient  knowledge  may  be  seen  from  a  cursory  survey  of  his 
writings  ;  which  will  likewise  afford  an  idea  of  the  quality 
of  his  work,  and  how  much  there  was  of  Albert  in  it.1  To 
begin  with,  he  sets  forth  with  voluminous  exposition  the 
entire  Aristotelian  Organon.  The  preliminary  questions  as 
to  the  nature  of  logic  were  treated  in  the  De  praedicabilibus? 
which  expanded  the  substance  of  Porphyry's  Isagoge.  In 
this  treatise  Albert  expounds  his  conclusions  as  to  universals, 
the  universal  being  that  which  is  in  one  yet  is  fit  (aptum)  to 
be  in  many,  and  is  predicable  of  many.  "  Et  hoc  modo 
prout  ratio  est  praedicabilitatis,  ad  logicam  pertinet  de  uni- 
versali  tractare  ;  quamvis  secundum  quod  est  natura  quaedam 

1  The  works  of  Albertus  were  edited  by  the  Dominican  Jammy  in  twenty-one 
volumes  (Lyons,  1651);  they  are  reprinted  by  Borgnet  (Paris,  1890  et  seq.).     My 
references  to  volumes  follow  Jammy's  edition. 

2  See  ante,  pp.  314  sqq. 


CHAP,  xxxix  ALBERTUS  MAGNUS  425 

et  differentia  entis,  tractare  de  ipso  pertineat  ad  metaphysicam." 
That  is  to  say,  It  pertains  to  logic  to  treat  of  the  universal 
in  respect  to  its  predicability  ;  but  in  so  far  as  the  question 
relates  to  the  nature  and  differences  of  essential  being,  it 
pertains  to  metaphysics.  This  sentence  is  an  example  of 
Albert's  awkward  Latin  ;  but  it  shows  how  firmly  he  dis- 
tinguishes between  the  logical  and  the  metaphysical  material. 
His  treatment  of  logic  is  exhaustive,  rather  than  acutely  dis- 
criminating. He  works  constantly  with  the  material  of 
others,  and  the  result  is  more  inclusive  than  organic.1  In 
his  ponderous  treatment  of  logical  themes,  no  possible  con- 
sideration is  omitted. 

The  De  praedicabilibus  is  followed  by  the  De  praedica- 
mentis,  Albert's  treatise  on  the  Categories.  Next  comes  his 
Liber  de  sex  principiis,  which  is  a  paraphrasing  exposition 
of  the  work  of  Gilbert  de  la  Porre"e.  Then  comes  his 
Perihermenias,  which  keeps  the  Greek  title  of  the  De  inter- 
pretatione.  These  writings  are  succeeded  by  elaborate 
expositions  of  the  more  advanced  logical  treatises  of 
Aristotle,  all  of  them,  of  course,  Analytics  (Prior  and 
Posterior),  Topics,  and  Elenchi.  The  total  production  is 
detailed,  exhaustive,  awful  ;  it  is  ingens  truly,  only  not  quite 
informis ;  and  Teutonically  painstaking  and  conscientious. 

Thus  logic  makes  Tome  I.  of  the  twenty-one  tomes  of 
Albert's  Opera.  Tome  II.  contains  his  expository  paraphrases 
of  Aristotle's  Physics  and  lesser  treatises  upon  physical  topics, 
celestial  and  terrestrial.  From  the  opening  chapter  we  have 
already  taken  the  programme  of  his  large  intention  to  make 
known  all  Aristotle  to  the  Latins.  In  this  chapter  likewise 
he  proceeds  to  lay  out  the  divisions  of  philosophia  realis  into 
Aristotelian  conceptions  of  metaphysica,  mathematica,  and 
physica.  With  chapter  two  he  falls  into  the  first  of  his 
interminable  digressions,  taking  up  what  were  called  "the 
objections  of  Heracleitus "  to  any  science  of  physics. 
Another  digressive  chapter  considers  the  proper  subject  of 
physical  science,  to  wit,  corpus  mobile,  and  another  considers 
its  divisions.  After  a  while  he  takes  up  the  opinions  of  the 
ancients  upon  the  beginnings  (principid)  of  things,  and  then 

1  Prantl,  Ges.  der  Logik,  Hi.  89  sqq.,  calls  him  an  "  unklarer  Kopf,"  incapable 
of  consistent  thinking. 


426  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vit 

reasons  out  the  true  opinion  in  the  matter.  Liber  II.  of  his 
Physica  is  devoted  to  Natura,  considered  in  many  ways,  but 
chiefly  as  the  principium  intrinsecum  omnium  eorum  quae 
naturalia  sunt.  It  is  the  principle  of  motion  in  the  mobile 
substance.  Next  he  passes  to  a  discussion  of  causes  ;  and 
in  the  succeeding  books  he  considers  movement,  place,  time, 
and  eternity.  Albert's  paraphrase  is  replete  with  logical 
forms  of  thinking ;  it  seems  like  formal  logic  applied  in 
physical  science.  The  world  about  us  still  furnishes,  or  is, 
data  for  our  thoughts  ;  and  we  try  to  conceive  it  consistently, 
so  as  to  satisfy  our  thinking  ;  so  did  Aristotle  and  Albertus. 
But  they  avowedly  worked  out  their  conceptions  of  the 
external  world  according  to  the  laws  determining  the  con- 
sistency of  their  own  mental  processes  ;  and  deemed  this  a 
proper  way  of  approach  to  natural  science.  Yet  the  work 
of  Aristotle  represents  a  real  consideration  of  the  universe, 
and  a  tremendous  mass  of  natural  knowledge.  The 
achievement  of  Albertus  in  rendering  it  available  to  the 
scholar-world  of  the  thirteenth  century  was  an  extension  of 
knowledge  which  seems  the  more  prodigious  as  we  note  its 
enormous  range.  This  continues  to  impress  us  as  we  turn 
over  Albert's  next  treatises,  paraphrasing  those  of  Aristotle, 
as  their  names  indicate  :  De  coelo  et  mundo  ;  De  generatione 
et  ccrruptione  ;  Libri  1 V.  meteorum  ;  De  mineralibus,  which 
ends  Tome  II.  and  the  physical  treatises  proper. 

Tome  III.  introduces  us  to  another  region,  opening  with 
Albert's  exhaustive  paraphrase,  De  anima.  It  is  placed 
here  because  the  scientia  de  anima  is  a  part  of  naturalis 
scientia,  and  comes  after  minerals  and  other  topics  of  physics, 
but  precedes  the  science  of  animate  bodies  —  corporum 
animatorum  ;  for  the  last  cannot  be  known  except  through 
knowing  their  animae.  In  this,  as  well  as  in  other  works  of 
Albert,  psychological  material  is  gathered  from  many  sources. 
One  may  hardly  speak  of  the  psychology  of  Albertus 
Magnus,  since  his  matter  has  no  organic  unity.  It  is  largely 
Aristotelian,  with  the  thoughts  of  Arab  commentators  taken 
into  it,  as  in  Albert's  Aristotelian  paraphrases  generally. 
But  it  is  also  Augustinian,  and  Platonic  and  Neo-Platonic. 
Albert  is  capable  of  defending  opposite  views  in  the  same 
treatise  ;  and  in  spite  of  best  intentions,  he  does  not  succeed 


CHAP,  xxxix  ALBERTUS  MAGNUS  427 

in  harmonizing  what  he  draws  from  Aristotle,  with  what  he 
takes  from  Augustine.  Hence  his  works  nowhere  present  a 
system  of  psychology  which  might  be  called  Albert's,  either 
through  creation  or  consistent  selection.  But  at  least  he 
has  gathered,  and  bestowed  somewhere,  all  the  accessible 
material.1 

Tome  III.  of  Albert's  Opera  contains  also  his  Aristotelian 
paraphrase,  Metaphysicorum  libri  XI IL  In  this  vera  sapientia 
philosophiae^  he  follows  Aristotle  closely,  save  where  orthodoxy 
compels  deviation.2  Tome  IV.  contains  his  paraphrasing 
expositions,  Ethica  and  In  octo  libros  politicorum  Aristotelis 
commentarii.  Tome  V.  contains  paraphrases  of  Aristotle's 
minor  natural  treatises, — parva  naturalia  ;  to  wit,  the  Liber 
de  sensu  et  sensato,  treating  problems  of  sense-perception  ; 
next  the  Liber  de  memoria  et  reminiscentia,  in  which  the  two 
are  thus  distinguished  :  "  Memoria  motus  continuus  est  in 
rem,  et  uniformis.  Reminiscibilitas  autem  est  motus  quasi 
interceptus  et  abscissus  per  oblivionem."  Treatises  follow  : 
De  somno  et  vigilia  ;  De  motibus  animalium  ;  De  aetate,  sive  de 
juventute  et  senectute  ;  De  spiritu  et  respiratione  ;  De  morte  et 
vita  \  De  nutrimento  et  nutribile  ;  De  natura  et  origine  animae  ; 
De  unitate  intellectus  contra  Averroem  (a  controversial  tract)  ; 
De  intellectu  et  intelligibile  (an  important  psychological  writ- 
ing) ;  De  natura  locorum ;  De  causis  proprietatum  elementorum ; 
De  passionibus  aert's,  sive  de  vaporum  impressionibus  ;  and 
next  and  last,  saving  some  minor  tracts,  Albert's  chief 
botanical  work,  De  vegetabilibus. 

Aristotle's  Botany  was  lost,  and  Albert's  work  was  based 
on  the  De  plantis  of  Nicolas  of  Damascus,  a  short  compend 
vulgarly  ascribed  to  Aristotle,  but  really  made  in  the  first 
century,  and  passing  through  numerous  translations  from  one 
language  to  another,  before  Albert  accepted  it  as  the  com- 
position of  the  Stagirite.  It  consisted  of  two  short  books  ; 
Albert's  work  contained  seven  long  ones,  and  made  the 
most  important  work  on  botany  since  the  times  of  Aristotle 

1  This  is  the  view  of  A.  Schneider,  Die  Psychologic  Alberts  des  Grossen 
(Baeumker's  Beitrage,  Miinster,  1903).  The  author  presents  analytically  the 
disparate  elements — Aristotelian,  Neo-Platonic,  and  theological-Augustinian, 
which  are  found  in  Albert's  writings. 

1  See  Endriss,  Albertus  Magnus  als  Interpret  der  Arittottliscke*  Mttaphysik 
(Munich,  1886). 


428  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

and  his  pupil  Theophrastus.  In  opening,  Albert  says  that 
generalities  applicable  to  all  animate  things  have  been 
already  presented,  and  now  it  is  time  to  consider  more 
especially  and  in  turn,  vegetabilia,  sensibilia,  rationabilia.  In 
the  first  eight  chapters  of  his  first  book,  Albert  follows  his 
supposed  Aristotelian  source,  and  then  remarks  that  the 
translation  of  the  Philosopher's  treatise  is  so  ignorantly 
made  that  he  will  himself  take  up  in  order  the  six  problems 
thus  far  incompetently  discussed.  So  he  considers  whether 
plants  have  souls ;  whether  plant-souls  feel  and  desire ; 
whether  plants  sleep  ;  as  to  sex  in  plants  ;  whether  without 
sex  they  can  propagate  their  species  ;  and  as  to  their  hidden 
life. 

In  the  second  book,  having  again  bewailed  the  in- 
sufficiency of  his  source,  Albert  takes  up  the  classification 
of  plants,  and  proceeds  with  a  description  of  their  various 
parts,  then  passes  on  to  the  shape  of  leaves,  the  generation 
and  nature  of  flowers,  their  colour,  odour,  and  shape.  Liber 
III.,  still  as  an  independent  digressto,  discusses  seeds  and 
fruit.  In  Liber  IV.  Albert  returns  to  his  unhappy  source, 
and  his  matter  declines  in  interest ;  but  again,  in  Liber  V., 
he  frees  himself  in  a  digressio  on  the  properties  and  effects 
of  plants,  gathered  from  many  sources,  some  of  which  are 
foolish  enough.  His  sixth  book  is  a  description  of  trees  and 
other  plants  in  alphabetical  order.  The  last  and  seventh  is 
devoted  to  agriculture.1 

In  the  De  vegetabilibus,  Albert,  as  an  expounder  of  natural 
knowledge,  is  at  his  best.  A  less  independent  and  intelli- 
gent production  is  his  enormous  treatise  De  animalibus  libri 
XXVI.,  which  fills  the  whole  of  Tome  IV.  of  Albert's  Opera. 
A  certain  Thomas  of  Cantimpre",  an  admiring  pupil  of  Albert, 
may  have  anticipated  the  above-named  work  of  his  teacher 
by  his  own  compilation,  De  naturis  rerum,  which  appears  to 
have  been  composed  shortly  before  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth 
century.  Its  descriptions  of  animals,  although  borrowed  and 
uncritical,  were  at  least  intended  to  describe  them  actually, 
and  were  not  merely  fashioned  for  the  moral's  sake,  after  the 
manner  of  the  Physiologus?  and  many  a  compilation  of  the 

1  The  above  is  mainly  drawn  from  E.  Meyer's  Ges.  der  Botanik,  Bd.  iv.  pp. 
38-78.  *  Ante,  Volume  I.  p.  76. 


CHAP,  xxxix  ALBERTUS  MAGNUS  429 

early  Middle  Ages.  Yet  the  work  contains  moralities  enough, 
and  plenty  of  the  fabulous.  But  Thomas  diligently  gathered 
information  as  he  might,  and  from  Aristotle  more  than  any 
other.  Thus,  in  his  lesser  way,  he,  as  well  as  Albert,  repre- 
sents the  tendency  of  the  period  to  interest  itself  in  the 
realities,  as  well  as  in  the  symbolisms,  of  the  natural  world. 

Albert's  work  is  not  such  an  inorganic  compilation  as 
Thomas's.  He  has  paraphrased  the  ten  books  of  Aristotle's 
natural  histories,  his  four  books  on  the  parts  of  animals, 
and  his  five  books  on  their  generation.  To  these  nineteen, 
he  has  added  seven  books  on  the  nature  of  animal  bodies 
and  on  their  grades  of  perfection  ;  and  then  on  quadrupeds, 
birds,  aquatic  animals,  snakes,  and  small  bloodless  creatures. 
Besides  Aristotle,  he  draws  on  Avicenna,  Galen,  Ambrose  (!), 
and  others,  including  Thomas  of  Cantimpre\  Thus,  his 
work  is  made  up  mainly  of  the  ancient  written  material. 
Moreover,  Albert  is  kept  from  a  natural  view  of  his  subject 
through  the  need  he  feels  to  measure  animals  by  the  standards 
of  human  capacity,  and  learn  to  know  them  through  knowing 
man.  His  digressiones  usually  discuss  abstract  problems,  as, 
for  instance,  whether  beyond  the  four  elements,  any  fifth 
principle  enters  the  composition  of  animal  bodies.  As  for 
his  anatomy,  he  describes  the  muscles,  and  calls  the  veins 
nerves,  having  no  real  knowledge  of  the  latter.  He  corrects 
few  ancient  errors,  either  anatomical  or  physiological ;  and 
his  own  observations,  occasionally  referred  to  in  his  work, 
scarcely  win  our  respect.  Nor  does  he  exclude  fabulous 
stories,  or  the  current  superstitions  as  to  the  medicinal  or 
magical  effect  of  parts  of  certain  animals.  On  the  whole, 
Albert's  merit  in  the  province  of  Zoology  lies  in  his  intro- 
duction of  the  Aristotelian  data  and  conceptions  to  the 
mediaeval  Latin  West.1 

After  Tome  IV.  of  Albert's  Opera,  follow  many  portly 
tomes,  the  contents  of  which  need  not  detain  us.  There  are 
enormous  commentaries  on  the  Psalms  and  Prophets,  and  the 
Gospels  (Tomes  VII.-XI.);  then  a  tome  of  sermons,  then  a  tome 
of  commentaries  on  the  Hierarchies  of  Pseudo-Dionysius  ;  and 
three  tomes  of  commentaries  on  the  Lombard's  Sentences^ — 
commentaries,  that  is  to  say,  upon  works  which  stood  close 

1  See  Carus,  Geschichte  der  Zoologie,  pp.  211-239. 


430  THE  MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

to  Scripture  in  authority.  With  these  we  reach  the  end  of 
Albert's  labours  in  paraphrase  and  commentary,  and  pass 
to  his  more  constructive  work.  Of  course,  the  first  and  chief 
is  his  Summa  theologiae,  contained  in  Tomes  XVII.  and 
XVIII.  of  the  Opera.  With  Albert,  theology  is  a  science,  a 
branch  of  systematic  knowledge,  the  highest  indeed,  and  yet 
one  among  others.  This  science,  says  he  in  the  Prologue  to 
his  Summa, 

"...  is  of  all  sciences  the  most  entitled  to  credence — certissimae 
credulitaiis  et  fidei.  Other  sciences,  concerning  creatures,  possess 
rationes  immobile*,  yet  those  rationes  are  mobiles  because  they  are  in 
created  things.  But  this  science  founded  in  rationibus  aeternis  is 
immutable  both  secundum  esse  and  secundum  rationem.  And  since 
it  is  not  constituted  of  the  sensible  and  imaginable,  which  are  not 
quite  cleared  of  the  hangings  of  matter,  plainly  it,  alone  or  supremely, 
is  science :  for  the  divine  intellect  is  altogether  intellectual,  being 
the  light  and  cause  of  everything  intelligible ;  and  from  it  to  us  is 
the  divine  science." 

Albert's  dialectic  is  turgid  enough,  and  lacks  the  lucidity 
of  his  pupil.  Yet  his  reasoning  may  be  weighty  and  even 
convincing.  Intellect,  Reason  and  its  realm  of  that  which 
is  known  through  Reason,  is  higher  than  sense  perceptions 
and  imaginations  springing  from  them  :  it  affords  the  surest 
knowledge  ;  the  science  that  treats  of  pure  reason,  which  is 
in  God,  is  the  surest  and  noblest  of  sciences.  Albert  clearly 
defines  the  province  and  nature  of  theology. 

"  It  is  srientia  secundum  pietatem  ;  it  is  not  concerned  with  the 
knowable  (scibile]  simply  as  such,  nor  with  the  knowable  universally ; 
but  only  as  it  inclines  us  to  Piety.  Piety,  as  Augustine  says,  is  the 
worship  of  God,  perfected  by  faith,  hope,  charity,  prayer,  and 
sacrifices.  Thus  theology  is  the  science  of  what  pertains  to  salva- 
tion ;  for  piety  conduces  to  salvation." J 

The  Summa  theologiae  treats  of  the  encyclopaedic 
matter  of  the  sacred  science,  in  the  order  and  arrangement 
with  which  we  are  familiar.2  It  is  followed  (Tome  XIX.) 
by  Albert's  Summa  de  creaturis,  a  presentation  of  God's 
creation,  omitting  the  special  topics  set  forth  in  the  De 
vegetabilibus  and  De  animalibus.  It  treats  of  creation,  of 

1  Sum.  theol.  pars prima,  tract.  I,  quaest.  ii. 
2  Ante,  Chapter  XXXV.,  I. 


CHAP,  xxxix  ALBERTUS  MAGNUS  431 

matter,  of  time  and  eternity,  of  the  heavens  and  celestial 
bodies,  of  angels,  their  qualities  and  functions,  and  the 
hierarchies  of  them  ;  of  the  state  of  the  wicked  angels,  of 
the  works  of  the  six  days,  briefly ;  and  then  of  man,  soul 
and  body,  very  fully  ;  of  man's  habitation  and  the  order  and 
perfection  of  the  universe.  Thus  the  Sumnta  de  creaturis 
treats  of  the  world  and  man  as  God's  creation  ;  but  it  is  not 
directly  concerned  with  man's  salvation,  which  is  the  dis- 
tinguishing purpose  of  a  Sumnta  theologiae,  however  encyclo- 
paedic such  a  work  may  be. 

Two  tomes  remain  of  Albert's  opera,  containing  much 
that  is  very  different  from  anything  already  considered. 
Tome  XX.  is  devoted  to  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  is  chiefly 
made  up  of  'two  prodigious  tracts  :  De  laudibus  beatae  Mariae 
Virginis  libri  XII r.,  and  the  Mariale,  sive  quaestiones  super 
evangelium,  Missus  est  angelus  Gabriel.  These  works — it 
is  disputed  whether  Albert  was  their  author — are  a  glorifica- 
tion, indeed  a  deification,  of  Mary.  They  are  prodigious  ; 
they  are  astounding.  The  worship  of  Mary  is  gathered  up 
in  them,  of  Mary  the  chief  and  best  beloved  religious  creation 
of  the  Middle  Ages  ;  only  not  a  creation,  strictly  speaking, 
for  the  Divine  Virgin,  equipped  with  attribute  and  quality, 
sprang  from  the  fecund  matrix  of  the  early  Church.  The 
works  before  us  represent  a  simpler  piety  than  Albert's 
Summa  theologiae.  They  contain  satisfying,  consoling  state- 
ments, not  woven  of  dialectic.  And  the  end  is  all  that  the 
Mary-loving  soul  could  wish.  "  Christ  protects  the  servants 
of  His  genetrix : — and  so  does  Mary,  as  may  be  read  in  her 
miracles,  protect  us  from  our  bodily  enemies,  and  from  the 
seducers  of  souls." l  The  praises  of  Mary  will  seem  mar- 
vellous indeed  to  anyone  turning  over  the  tituli  of  books 
and  chapters.  There  is  here  a  whole  mythology,  and  a 
universal  symbolism.  Symbolically,  Mary  is  everything 
imaginable ;  she  has  every  virtue  and  a  mass  of  power 
and  privileges.  She  is  the  adorable  and  chief  efficient 
Goddess  mediating  between  the  Trinity  and  the  creature 
man. 

Tome  XXL,  last  tome  of  all,  has  a  variety  of  writings, 
some  of  which  may  not  be  Albert's.  Among  them  is  a  work 

1  Tome  xx.  p.  41*7. 


432  THE  MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

of  sweet  and  simple  piety,  a  work  of  turning  to  God  as  a  little 
child  ;  and  one  would  be  loath  to  take  it  away  from  this 
man  of  learning.  De  adhaerendo  Deo  is  its  title,  which  tells 
the  story.  Albert  wished  at  last  to  write  something  pre- 
senting man's  ultimate  perfection,  so  far  as  that  might  be 
realized  in  this  life.  So  he  writes  this  little  tract  of  chamber- 
piety,  as  to  how  one  should  cling  to  Christ  alone.  Yet  he 
cannot  disencumber  himself  of  his  lifelong  methods  of  com- 
position. He  might  conceive  and  desire  ;  but  it  was  not  for 
him  to  write  a  tract  to  move  the  heart.  The  best  he  can 
say  is  that  the  end  of  all  our  study  and  discipline  is  intendere 
et  quiescere  in  Domino  Deo  intra  te  per  purissimum  intellectum, 
et  devotissimum  affectum  sine  phantasmatibus  et  implicationibus. 
The  great  scholar  would  come  home  at  last,  like  a  little  child, 
if  he  only  could. 


CHAPTER    XL 

THOMAS   AQUINAS 

I.  THOMAS'S  CONCEPTION  OF  HUMAN  BEATITUDE. 
II.  MAN'S  CAPACITY  TO  KNOW  GOD. 

III.  How  GOD  KNOWS. 

IV.  How  THE  ANGELS  KNOW. 
V.  How  MEN  KNOW. 

VI.  KNOWLEDGE  THROUGH  FAITH  PERFECTED  IN  LOVE. 

I 

WITH  Albert  it  seemed  most  illuminating  to  outline  the 
masses  of  his  work  of  Aristotelian  purveyorship  and  in- 
choate reconstruction  of  the  Christian  encyclopaedia  in 
conformity  with  the  new  philosophy.  Such  a  treatment 
will  not  avail  for  Thomas.  His  achievement,  even  measured 
by  its  bulk,  was  as  great  as  Albert's.  But  its  size  and 
encyclopaedic  inclusiveness  do  not  represent  its  integral 
excellences.  The  intellectual  qualities  of  Thomas,  evinced 
in  his  work,  are  of  a  higher  order  than  those  included  in 
intelligent  diligence,  however  exceptional.  They  must  be 
disengaged  from  out  of  the  vast  product  of  their  energies, 
in  order  that  they  may  be  brought  together,  and  made  to 
appear  in  the  organic  correlation  which  they  held  in  the 
mind  of  the  most  potent  genius  of  scholasticism. 

We  are  pleased  to  find  some  clue  to  a  man's  genius  in 
the  race  and  place  from  which  he  draws  his  origin.  So  for 
whatever  may  be  its  explanatory  value  as  to  Thomas,  one 
may  note  that  he  came  of  Teutonic  stocks,  which  for  some 
generations  had  been  domiciled  in  the  form-giving  Italian 
land.  The  mingled  blood  of  princely  Suabian  and  Norman 
lines  flowed  in  him  ;  the  nobility  of  his  father's  house,  the 

VOL.  II  433  2  F 


434  THE  MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

Counts  of  Aquinum,  was  equalled  by  his  mother's  lineage. 
Probably  in  1225  he  was  born,  in  Southern  Italy,  not  far 
from  Monte  Cassino.  Thither,  as  a  child,  he  was  sent  to 
school  to  the  monks,  and  stayed  with  them  through  child- 
hood's formative  period.  His  education  did  not  create  the 
mind  which  it  may  have  had  part  in  directing  to  sacred 
study.  Near  his  tenth  year,  the  extraordinary  boy  was 
returned  to  Naples,  there  to  study  the  humanities  and 
philosophy  under  selected  masters.  When  eighteen,  he 
launched  himself  upon  the  intellectual  currents  of  the  age 
by  joining  the  Dominican  Order.  Stories  have  come  down 
of  the  violent,  but  fruitless  opposition  of  his  family.  In 
two  years,  with  true  instinct,  Thomas  had  made  his  way 
from  Naples  to  the  feet  of  Albert  in  Cologne.  Thenceforth 
the  two  were  to  be  together,  as  their  tasks  permitted,  and 
the  loyal  relationship  between  master  and  scholar  was  un- 
disturbed by  the  latter's  transcendent  genius.  Plato  had 
the  greatest  pupil,  and  Aristotle  the  greatest  master,  known 
to  fame.  That  pupil's  work  was  a  redirecting  of  philosophy. 
The  work  of  pupil  Thomas  perfected  finally  the  matter 
upon  which  his  master  laboured  ;  and  the  master's  aged  eyes 
beheld  the  finished  structure  that  was  partly  his,  when  the 
pupil's  eyes  had  closed.  Thomas,  dying,  left  Albert  to 
defend  the  system  that  was  to  be  called  "  Thomist,"  after 
him  who  constructed  and  finished  it  to  its  very  turret 
points,  rather  than  "  Albertist,"  after  him  who  prepared  the 
materials. 

To  return  to  the  time  when  both  still  laboured.  Thomas 
in  1245  accompanied  his  master  to  Paris,  and  three  years 
later  went  back  with  him  to  Cologne.  Thereafter  their 
duties  often  separated  them.  We  know  that  in  1252 
Thomas  was  lecturing  at  Paris,  and  that  he  there  received 
with  Bonaventura  the  title  of  magister  in  1257.  After  this 
he  is  found  south  of  the  Alps;  it  was  in  the  year  1263 
that  Urban  IV.  at  Rome  encouraged  him  to  undertake 
a  critical  commentary  upon  Aristotle,  based  on  a  closer 
rendering  into  Latin  of  the  Greek.  In  1268,  at  the  height 
of  his  academic  fame,  he  is  once  more  at  Paris  ;  which  he 
leaves  for  the  last  time  in  1272,  having  been  directed  to 
establish  a  studium  generate  at  Naples.  Two  years  later 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  .  435 

he  died,  on  his  way  to  advise  the  labours  of  the  Council 
assembled  at  Lyons.1 

Thomas  wrote  commentaries  upon  the  Aristotelian  De 
interpretatione  and  Posterior  Analytics ;  the  Physics,  the 
De  coelo  et  mundo,  the  Meteorum,  the  Metaphysics,  Ethics, 
Politics,  and  certain  other  Aristotelian  treatises.  His  work 
shows  such  a  close  understanding  of  Aristotle  as  the  world 
had  not  known  since  the  days  of  the  ancient  Peripatetics. 
Of  course,  he  lectured  on  the  Sentences,  and  the  result  remains 
in  his  Commentaries  on  them.  He  lectured,  and  the  re- 
sulting Commentaries  exist  in  many  tomes,  on  the  greater 
part  of  both  the  Old  and  New  Testaments.  It  would  little 
help  our  purpose  to  catalogue  in  detail  his  more  constructive 
and  original  works,  wherein  he  perfected  a  system  of 
philosophy  and  sacred  knowledge.  Chief  among  them 
were  the  Summa  contra  Gentiles  and  the  Summa  theologiae, 
the  latter  the  most  influential  work  of  all  western  mediaeval 
scholasticism.  Many  of  his  more  important  shorter  treatises 
are  included  in  the  Quaestiones  disputatae,  and  the  Quod- 
libetalia.  They  treat  of  many  matters  finally  put  together 
in  the  Summa  theologiae.  De  malo  in  communi,  de  peccatis, 
etc. ;  De  anima ;  De  virtutibus  in  communi,  etc.  ;  De  veritate  ; 
De  ideis  ;  De  cognitione  angelorum  ;  De  bono  ;  De  voluntate  ; 
De  libero  arbitrio  ;  De  passionibus  animae  ;  De  gratia  ; — such 
are  titles  drawn  from  the  Quaestiones.  The  Quodlibetalia 
were  academic  disputations  held  in  the  theological  faculty, 
upon  any  imaginable  thesis  having  theological  bearing. 
Some  of  them  still  appear  philosophical,  while  many  seem 
bizarre  to  us  ;  for  example  :  Whether  an  angel  can  move 
from  one  extreme  to  the  other  without  passing  through  the 
middle.  One  may  remember  that  such  questions  had  been 
put,  and  put  again,  from  the  time  of  the  Church  Fathers. 
This  question  answered  by  Thomas  whether  an  angel  may 
pass  from  one  extreme  to  the  other  without  traversing  the 
middle  is  pertinent  to  the  conception  of  angels  as  com- 
pletely immaterial  beings, — a  conception  upon  the  elabora- 
tion of  which  theologians  expended  much  ingenious  thought. 

In  the  earlier  Middle  Ages,  when  men  were  busy  putting 

1  The  Vita  of  Thomas  by  Guilielmus  de  Thoco,  Ada  sanctorum,  Martius, 
tome  i.  folio  657  sqq.  (March  7),  is  wretchedly  confused. 


436  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

together  the  ancient  matter,  the  personalities  of  the  writers 
may  not  clearly  appear.  It  is  different  in  the  twelfth 
century,  and  very  different  in  the  thirteenth,  when  the 
figures  of  at  least  its  greater  men  are  thrown  out  plainly 
by  their  written  works.  Bonaventura  is  seen  lucidly  reason- 
ing, but  with  his  ardently  envisioning  piety  ever  reaching 
out  beyond  ;  the  personality  of  Albert  most  Teutonically 
wrestles  itself  into  salience  through  the  many-tomed  results 
of  his  very  visible  efforts  ;  when  we  come  to  Roger  Bacon, 
we  shall  find  wormwood,  and  many  higher  qualities  of  mind, 
flowing  in  his  sentences.  And  the  consummate  fashioning 
faculty,  the  devout  and  intellectual  temperament  of  Thomas, 
are  writ  large  in  his  treatises.  His  work  has  unity  ;  it  is 
a  system ;  it  corresponds  to  the  scholastically  creative 
personality,  from  the  efficient  concord  of  whose  faculties 
it  proceeded.  The  unity  of  Thomas's  personality  lay  in  his 
conception  of  man's  summum  bonum,  which  sprang  from 
his  Christian  faith,  but  was  constructed  by  reason  from 
foundation  to  pinnacle  ;  and  it  is  evinced  in  the  compulsion 
of  an  intellectual  temperament  that  never  let  the  pious 
reasoner's  energies  or  appetitions  stray  loitering  or  aberrant 
from  that  goal.  Likewise  the  unity  of  his  system  consists 
in  its  purpose,  which  is  to  present  that  same  summum 
bonum,  credited  by  faith,  empowered,  if  not  empassioned, 
by  piety,  and  constructed  by  reason.  To  fulfil  this  purpose 
in  its  utmost  compass,  reason  works  with  the  material  of 
all  pertinent  knowledge  ;  fashioning  the  same  to  complete 
logical  consistency  of  expression. 

Therefore,  it  is  from  his  conception  of  this  summum 
bonum  as  from  a  centre  of  illumination,  that  we  may  trace 
the  characteristic  qualities  alike  of  Thomas  and  his  work. 
His  faith,  his  piety,  and  his  intellectual  nature  are  revealed 
in  his  thought  of  supreme  felicity.  Man's  chief  good  being 
the  ground  of  the  system,  the  thought  and  study  which 
Thomas  puts  upon  the  created  universe  and  upon  God,  re- 
garded both  as  Creator  and  in  the  relationships  of  Father, 
Son,  and  Holy  Spirit,  conduce  to  make  large  and  sure  and 
ample  this  same  chief  good  of  man.  To  it  likewise  conduce 
the  Incarnation,  and  the  Sacraments  springing  therefrom  ; 
in  accord  with  it,  Thomas  accepts  or  constructs  his  meta- 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  437 

physics,  his  psychology,  his  entire  thought  of  human  capacity 
and  destiny,  and  sets  forth  how  nearly  man's  reason  may 
bring  him  to  this  goal,  and  where  there  is  need  of  divine 
grace.  In  this  goal,  moreover,  shall  be  found  the  sanction 
of  human  knowledge,  and  the  justification  of  the  right 
enjoyment  of  human  faculties  ;  it  determines  what  elements 
of  mortal  life  may  be  gathered  up  and  carried  on,  to  form 
part  of  the  soul's  eternal  beatitude. 

Thomas's  intellectual  powers  work  together  in  order 
to  set  his  thought  of  man's  summum  bonunt  on  its  surest 
foundations,  and  make  clear  its  scope :  his  faculty  of 
arrangement,  and  serious  and  lucid  presentation  ;  his  careful 
reasoning,  which  never  trips,  never  overlooks,  and  never 
either  hurries  or  is  taken  unprepared ;  his  marvellous 
unforgetfulness  of  everything  which  might  remotely  bear 
on  the  subject ;  his  intellectual  poise,  and  his  just  weighing 
of  every  matter  that  should  be  taken  into  the  scales  of 
his  determination.  Observing  these,  we  may  realize  how 
he  seemed  to  his  time  a  new  intellectual  manifestation  of 
God's  illuminating  grace.  There  was  in  him  something 
unknown  before ;  his  argument,  his  exposition,  was  new 
in  power,  in  interest,  in  lucidity.  On  the  quality  of  newness 
the  wretched  old  biographer  rings  his  reiteration  : 

"  For  in  his  lectures  he  put  out  new  topics  (articulos\  inventing 
a  new  and  clear  way  of  drawing  conclusions  and  bringing  neiv 
reasons  into  them,  so  that  no  one,  who  had  heard  him  teach  new 
doubts  and  allay  them  by  new  arguments,  would  have  doubted 
that  God  had  illumined  with  rays  of  new  light  one  who  became 
straightway  of  such  sure  judgment,  that  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
teach  and  write  new  opinions,  which  God  had  deigned  newly  to 
inspire." 1 

His  biographer's  view  is  justified.  Thomas  was  the 
greatest  of  the  schoolmen.  His  way  of  teaching,  his 
translucent  exposition,  came  to  his  hearers  as  a  new 
inspiration.  Only  Bonaventura  (likewise  Italian-born)  may 
be  compared  with  him  for  clearness  of  exposition — of 
solution  indeed;  and  Thomas  is  more  judicial,  more 
supremely  intellectual  ;  his  way  of  treatment  was  a  stronger 

1   Vita,  cap.  iii.  §  15. 


438  THE  MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  va 

incitement  and  satisfaction  to  at  least  the  minds  of  his 
auditors.  Albert,  with  his  mass  of  but  half -conquered 
material,  could  not  fail  to  show,  whether  he  would  or  not, 
the  doubt-breeding  difficulties  of  the  new  philosophy,  which 
was  yet  to  be  worked  into  Christian  theology.  Thomas 
exposed  every  difficulty  and  revealed  its  depths  ;  but  then 
he  solved  and  adjusted  everything  with  an  argumentation 
from  whose  careful  inclusiveness  no  questions  strayed  un- 
shepherded.  Placed  with  Thomas,  Albert  shows  as  the 
Titan  whose  strength  assembles  the  materials,  while  Thomas 
is  the  god  who  erects  the  edifice.  The  material  that 
Thomas  works  with,  and  many  of  his  thoughts  and  argu- 
ments, are  to  be  found  in  Albert ;  and  the  pupil  knew 
his  indebtedness  to  the  great  master,  who  survived  him 
to  defend  his  doctrines.  But  what  is  not  in  Albert,  is 
Thomas,  Thomas  himself,  with  his  disentangled  reasoning, 
his  clarity,  his  organic  exposition,  his  final  construction 
of  the  mediaeval  Christian  scheme.1 

In  the  third  book  of  his  Summa  philosophica  contra 
Gentiles,  and  in  the  beginning  of  Pars  prima  secundae 
of  his  Summa  theologiae,  Thomas  expounds  man's  final 
end,  ultimus  finis,  which  is  his  supreme  good  or  perfect 
beatitude.  The  exposition  in  the  former  work,  dating  from 
the  earlier  years  of  the  author's  academic  activities,  seems 
the  simpler  at  first  reading  ;  but  the  other  includes  more 
surely  Thomas's  last  reasoning,  placed  in  the  setting  of 
argument  and  relationship  which  he  gave  it  in  his  greatest 
work.  We  shall  follow  the  latter,  borrowing,  however, 
from  the  former  when  its  phrases  seem  to  present  the 
matter  more  aptly  to  our  non-scholastic  minds.  The 
general  position  of  the  topic  is  the  same  in  both  Summae ; 
and  Thomas  gives  the  reason  in  the  Prologus  to  Pars  prima 
secundae  of  the  Summa  theologiae.  His  way  of  doing  this 
is  significant : 

"Man  is  declared  to  be  made  in  the  image  of  God  in   this 

1  One  may  see  the  truth  of  this  by  comparing  the  treatment  of  a  matter  in 
Albert's  Summa  theologiae  with  the  corresponding  sections  in  Thomas.  For 
example,  compare  Albert's  Summa  theol.  prima,  Tract,  vii.  Quaest.  xxx.-xxxiii., 
on  generatio,  processio,  missio  of  the  divine  persons,  with  Thomas,  Sum.  theol. 
prima,  Quaest.  xxvii.  and  xliii. 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  439 

sense  (as  Damascenus1  says)  that  by  'image'  is  meant  intellectual, 
free  to  choose,  and  self-potent  to  act.  Therefore,  after  what  has  been 
said  of  the  Exemplar  God,  and  of  those  things  which  proceed 
from  the  divine  power  according  to  its  will,  there  remains  for 
us  to  consider  His  image,  to  wit,  man,  in  so  far  as  he  is  himself 
the  source  (principium}  of  his  acts,  possessing  free  will  and  power 
over  them." 

Thereupon  Thomas  continues,  opening  his  first  Quaestio:  * 

"First  one  must  consider  the  final  end  (ultimus finis}  of  human 

life,  and  then  those  things  through  which  man  may  attain  this  end, 

or  deviate  from  it.     For  one  must  accept  from  an  end  the  rationale 

of  those  things  which  are  ordained  to  that  end." 

Assuming  the  final  end  of  human  life  to  be  beatitude, 
Thomas  considers  wherein  man  as  a  rational  creature 
may  properly  have  one  final  end,  on  account  of  which  he 
wills  all  that  he  wills.  Quaestio  ii.  shows  that  man's 
beatitude  cannot  consist  in  riches,  honours,  fame,  power, 
pleasures  of  the  body,  or  in  any  created  good,  not  even 
in  the  soul.  Man  gains  his  beatitude  through  the  soul ; 
but  in  itself  the  soul  is  not  man's  final  end.  The  next 
Quaestio  is  devoted  to  the  gist  of  the  matter:  what 
beatitude  is,  and  what  is  needed  for  it.  Thomas  first 
shows  in  what  sense  beatitude  is  something  increate 
(increatum).  He  has  already  pointed  out  that  end  (finis) 
has  a  twofold  meaning :  the  thing  itself  which  we  desire 
to  obtain,  and  the  fruition  of  it. 

"  In  the  first  sense,  the  final  end  of  man  is  an  increate  good, 
to  wit  God,  who  alone  with  His  infinite  goodness  can  perfectly 
fulfil  the  wish  (voluntas)  of  man.  In  the  second  sense  the  final 
end  of  man  is  something  created  existing  in  himself;  which  is 
nought  else  than  attainment  or  fruition  (adeptio  vel  fruitio)  of 
the  final  end.  The  final  end  is  called  beatitude.  If  then  man's 
beatitude  is  viewed  as  cause  or  object,  it  is  something  increate ; 
but  if  it  is  considered  in  its  beatific  essence  (quantum  ad  ipsam 
essentiam  beatitudinis)  it  is  something  created." 

Thomas  next  shows  : 

"...   that   inasmuch    as    man's  beatitude   is  something   created 
existing  in  himself,  it  is  necessary  to  regard  it  as  action  (operatio). 

1  John  of  Damascus,  an  important  Greek  theologian  of  the  eighth  century, 
often  cited  by  Thomas. 

a  Quaestiones  are  the  larger  divisions  of  the  argument. 


440  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

For  beatitude  is  man's  ultimate  perfection.  But  everything  is 
perfect  in  so  far  as  it  is  actually  (eutu,  i.e.  in  realized  actuality) :  for 
potentiality  without  actuality  is  imperfect.  Therefore  beatitude 
should  consist  in  man's  ultimate  actuality.  But  manifestly  action 
(operatid)  is  the  final  actuality  of  the  actor  (pperantis) ;  as  the 
Philosopher  shows,  demonstrating  that  everything  exists  for  its 
action  (propter  suam  operationem).  Hence  it  follows  of  necessity 
that  man's  beatitude  is  action." 

The  next  point  to  consider  is  whether  beatitude  is  the 
action  of  man's  senses  or  his  intellect.  Drawing  distinctions, 
Thomas  points  out  that 

"  the  action  of  sense  cannot  pertain  to  beatitude  essentially ;  because 
man's  beatitude  essentially  consists  in  uniting  himself  to  the  increate 
good  ;  to  which  he  cannot  be  joined  through  the  action  of  the 
senses.  Yet  sense-action  may  pertain  to  beatitude  as  an  antecedent 
or  consequence :  as  an  antecedent,  for  the  imperfect  beatitude 
attainable  in  this  life,  where  the  action  of  the  senses  is  a  prerequisite 
to  the  action  of  the  mind ;  as  a  consequence,  in  that  perfect 
beatitude  which  is  looked  for  in  heaven ;  because,  after  the 
resurrection,  as  Augustine  says,  from  the  very  beatitude  of  the 
soul,  there  may  be  a  certain  flowing  back  into  the  body  and  its 
senses,  perfecting  them  in  their  actions.  But  not  even  then  will  the 
action  by  which  the  human  mind  is  joined  to  God  depend  on  sense." 

Beatitude  then  is  the  action  of  man's  intellectual  part ; 
and  Thomas  next  inquires,  whether  it  is  an  action  of  the 
intelligence  or  will  (intellectus  aut  voluntatis}.  With  this 
inquiry  we  touch  the  pivot  of  Thomas's  attitude,  wherein  he 
departs  from  Augustine,  in  apparent  reliance  on  the  word  of 
John  :  "  This  is  eternal  life  that  they  should  know  thee,  the 
one  true  God."  Life  eternal  is  man's  final  end  ;  and  there- 
fore man's  beatitude  consists  in  knowledge  of  God,  which  is 
an  act  of  mind.  Thomas  argues  this  at  some  length.  He 
refers  to  the  distinction  between  what  is  essential  to  the 
existence  of  beatitude,  and  what  is  joined  to  it  per  accidens, 
like  enjoyment  (delectatid}. 

"  I  say  then,  that  beatitude  in  its  essence  cannot  consist  in  an 
act  of  will.  For  it  has  appeared  that  beatitude  is  the  obtaining 
(consecutio)  of  the  final  end.  But  obtaining  does  not  consist  in  any 
act  of  will ;  for  will  attaches  to  the  absent  when  one  desires  it,  as 
well  as  to  the  present  in  which  one  rests  delighted.  It  is  evident 
that  the  desire  for  an  end  is  not  an  obtaining  of  it,  but  a  movement 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS 


441 


toward  it.  Enjoyment  attaches  to  will  from  the  presence  of  the 
end ;  but  not  conversely  does  anything  become  present  because  the 
will  shall  delight  in  it  Therefore  there  must  be  something  besides 
an  act  of  will,  through  which  the  end  may  become  present  to  the 
will.  This  is  plain  respecting  the  ends  of  sense  (fines  sensibiles). 
For  if  to  obtain  money  were  an  act  of  will,  the  miser  would  have 
obtained  it  from  the  beginning.  And  so  it  comes  to  pass  with 
respect  to  an  end  conceived  by  the  mind  ;  we  obtain  it  when  it 
becomes  present  to  us  through  an  act  of  the  intellect ;  and  then  the 
delighted  will  rests  in  the  end  obtained.  Thus,  therefore,  the 
essence  of  beatitude  consists  in  an  act  of  mind.  But  the  delight 
which  follows  beatitude  pertains  to  will,  even  in  the  sense  in  which 
Augustine  says :  '  beatitude  est  gaudium  de  veritate,'  because  indeed 
joy  is  the  consummation  of  beatitude." 

The  supremely  intellectual  attitude  of  the  Angelic 
Doctor,  shows  at  once,  and  as  it  were  universally,  in  his 
conviction  of  the  primacy  of  the  true  over  the  good,  and  of 
knowledge  over  will.  Sometimes  he  argues  these  points 
directly  ;  and  again,  his  temperamental  attitude  appears  in 
the  course  of  argument  upon  other  points.  For  example, 
Quaestio  xvi.  of  Pars  prima  has  for  its  subject  Veritas. 
And  in  the  first  article,  which  discusses  whether  truth  is  in 
the  thing  (in  re)  or  only  in  the  mind,  he  argues  thus : 

"  As  good  signifies  that  upon  which  desire  (appetitus)  is  bent,  so 
true  signifies  that  at  which  understanding  aims.  There  is  this 
difference  between  desire  and  understanding  or  any  kind  of  cogni- 
tion :  cognition  exists  in  so  far  as  what  is  known  (cognituni)  is  in 
the  knower ;  but  desire  is  as  the  desirous  inclines  toward  the  desired. 
Thus  the  end  (terminus  =  finis)  of  desire,  which  is  the  good,  is  in 
the  desirable  thing ;  but  the  end  of  knowing,  which  is  the  true,  is  in 
mind  itself." 

In  Articulus  4,  Thomas  comes  to  his  point :  that  the  true 
secundum  rationem  (i.e.  according  to  its  formal  nature)  is 
prior  to  the  good. 

"  Although  both  the  good  and  the  true  have  been  taken  as 
convertible  with  being,  yet  they  differ  in  their  conception  (ratione) ; 
and  that  the  true  is  prior  to  the  good  appears  from  two  considerations  : 
First,  the  true  is  more  closely  related  to  being,  which  is  prior  to  the 
good  ;  for  the  true  regards  being  itself,  simply  and  directly ;  while 
the  ratio  of  the  good  follows  being  as  in  some  way  perfect,  and 
therefore  desirable.  Secondly,  cognition  naturally  precedes  desire. 


442  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  VH 

Therefore,  since  the  true  regards  cognition,  and  the  good  regards 
desire,  the  true  is  prior  to  the  good  secundum  rationem." 

This  argument,  whatever  validity  it  may  have,  is  signifi- 
cant of  its  author's  predominantly  intellectual  temperament, 
and  consistent  with  his  conception  of  man's  supreme  beatitude 
as  the  intellectual  vision  of  God.  Obviously,  moreover,  the 
setting  of  the  true  above  the  good  is  another  way  of  stating 
the  primacy  of  knowledge  over  will,  which  is  also  maintained  : 
"  Will  and  understanding  (intellectus}  mutually  include  each 
other  :  for  the  understanding  knows  the  will ;  and  the  will 
wills  that  the  understanding  should  know."  *  Evidently  all 
rational  beings  have  will  as  well  as  understanding ;  God 
wills,  the  Angels  will,  man  wills.  Indeed,  how  could  know- 
ledge progress  but  for  the  will  to  know  ?  Yet  of  the  two, 
considered  in  themselves,  understanding  is  higher  than  will — 

"for  its  object  is  the  ratio,  the  very  essential  nature,  of  the 
desired  good,  while  the  object  of  will  is  the  desired  good  whose 
ratio  is  in  the  understanding.  .  .  .  Yet  will  may  be  the  higher, 
if  it  is  set  upon  something  higher  than  the  understanding.  .  .  . 
When  the  thing  in  which  is  the  good  is  nobler  than  the  soul 
itself,  in  which  is  the  rational  cognizance  (ratio  intellecta),  the 
will,  through  relation  to  that  thing,  is  higher  than  the  under- 
standing. But  when  the  thing  in  which  is  the  good,  is  lower  than 
the  soul,  then  in  relation  to  that  thing,  the  understanding  is  higher 
than  the  will.  Wherefore  the  love  of  God  is  better  than  the 
cognizance  (cognitio) ;  but  the  cognizance  of  corporeal  things  is 
better  than  the  love.  Yet  taken  absolutely,  the  understanding  is 
higher  than  the  will."  2 

These  positions  of  the  Angelic  Doctor  were  sharply 
opposed  in  his  lifetime  and  afterwards.  Without  entering 
the  lists,  let  us  rather  follow  him  on  his  evidently  Aristotelian 
path,  which  quickly  brings  him  to  his  next  conclusion  :  "  That 
beatitude  consists  in  the  action  of  the  speculative  rather  than 
the  practical  intellect,  as  is  evident  from  three  arguments  : 

"  First,  if  man's  beatitude  is  action,  it  ought  to  be  the  man's  best 
(optima}  action.  But  man's  best  action  is  that  of  his  best  faculty  in 
respect  to  the  best  object.  The  best  faculty  is  intelligence,  whose 
best  object  is  the  divine  good,  which  is  not  an  object  of  the  practical, 

1  Pars  prima,  Qu.  xvi.  Art.  3. 
2  Pars  prima,  Qu.  Ixxxii.  Art.  3. 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  443 

but  of  the  speculative  intelligence.  Wherefore,  in  such  action,  to 
wit,  in  contemplation  of  things  divine,  beatitude  chiefly  consists. 
And  because  every  one  seems  to  be  that  ivhich  is  best  in  him,  as  is  said 
in  the  Ethics,  so  such  action  is  most  proper  to  man  and  most 
enjoyable. 

"Secondly,  the  same  conclusion  appears  from  this,  that  con- 
templation above  all  is  sought  on  account  of  itself.  The  perfection 
(actus,  full  realization)  of  the  practical  intelligence  is  not  sought  on 
account  of  itself,  but  for  the  sake  of  action  :  the  actions  themselves 
are  directed  toward  some  end.  Hence  it  is  evident  that  the  final 
end  cannot  consist  in  the  vita  activa,  which  belongs  to  the  practical 
intelligence. 

"  Thirdly,  it  is  plain  from  this,  that  in  the  vita  contemplativa  man 
has  part  with  those  above  him,  to  wit,  God  and  the  Angels,  unto 
whom  he  is  made  like  through  beatitude;  but  in  those  matters 
which  belong  to  the  vita  activa,  other  animals,  however  imperfectly, 
have  somehow  part  with  him. 

"And  so  the  final  and  perfect  beatitude  which  is  looked  for  in 
the  life  to  come,  in  principle  consists  altogether  in  contemplation. 
But  the  imperfect  beatitude  which  may  be  had  here,  consists  first 
and  in  principle  in  contemplation,  and  secondly  in  the  true  opera- 
tion of  the  practical  intellect  directing  human  actions  and  passions, 
as  is  said  in  the  tenth  book  of  the  Ethics" 

It  being  thus  shown  that  perfect  beatitude  lies  in  the 
action  of  the  speculative  intelligence,  Thomas  next  shows 
that  it  cannot  consist  in  consideration  of  the  speculative 
sciences — 

"for  the  consideration  of  a  science  does  not  reach  beyond  the 
potency  (virtus)  of  the  principles  of  that  science,  seeing  that  the 
whole  science  is  contained  potentially  (virtualiter)  in  its  principles. 
But  the  principles  of  speculative  sciences  are  received  through  the 
senses,  as  the  Philosopher  makes  clear.  Therefore  the  entire  con- 
sideration of  the  speculative  sciences  cannot  be  extended  beyond 
that  to  which  a  cognition  of  sense-objects  (sensibilium)  is  able  to 
lead.  Man's  final  beatitude,  which  is  his  perfection,  cannot  consist 
in  the  cognition  of  sense-objects.  For  no  thing  is  perfected  by 
something  inferior,  except  as  there  may  be  in  the  inferior  some 
participation  in  a  superior.  Evidently  the  nature  (forma)  of  a  stone, 
or  any  other  sensible  thing,  is  inferior  to  man,  save  in  so  far  as 
something  higher  than  the  human  intelligence  has  part  in  it,  like  the 
light  of  reason.  .  .  .  But  since  there  is  in  sensible  forms  some 
participation  in  the  similitude  of  spiritual  substances,  the  considera- 
tion of  the  speculative  sciences  is,  in  a  certain  way,  participation  in 
true  and  perfect  beatitude." 


444  THE  MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

Neither  can  perfect  beatitude  consist  in  knowledge  of  the 
higher,  entirely  immaterial,  or,  as  Thomas  calls  them,  separate 
(separatae)  substances,  to  wit,  the  Angels.  Because  it  cannot 
consist  in  that  which  is  the  perfection  of  intelligence  only 
from  participation.  The  object  of  the  intelligence  is  the 
true.  Whatever  has  truth  only  through  participation  in 
something  else  cannot  make  the  contemplating  intelligence 
perfect  with  a  final  perfection.  But  the  angels  have  their 
being  (esse)  as  they  have  their  truth,  from  the  participation 
of  the  divine  in  them.  Whence  it  remains  that  only  the 
contemplation  of  God,  Who  alone  is  truth  through  His 
essential  being,  can  make  perfectly  blessed.  "  But,"  adds 
Thomas,  "  nothing  precludes  the  expectation  of  some 
imperfect  beatitude  from  contemplating  the  angels,  and 
even  a  higher  beatitude  than  lies  in  the  consideration  of  the 
speculative  sciences." 

So  the  conclusion  is  that  "  the  final  and  perfect  beatitude 
can  be  only  in  the  vision  of  the  divine  essence.  The  proof 
of  this  lies  in  the  consideration  of  two  matters  :  first,  that 
man  is  not  perfectly  blessed  (beatus]  so  long  as  there  remains 
anything  for  him  to  desire  or  seek  ;  secondly,  that  the  per- 
fection of  every  capacity  (potentiae),  is  adjudged  according  to 
the  nature  (ratio}  of  its  object."  And  a  patent  line  of 
argument  leads  to  the  unavoidable  conclusion  :  "  For  perfect 
beatitude  it  is  necessary  that  the  intellect  should  attain  to 
the  very  essence  of  the  first  cause.  And  thus  it  will  have 
its  perfection  through  union  with  God  as  its  object." 

There  are  few  novel  thoughts  in  Thomas's  conception  of 
man's  supreme  beatitude.  But  he  has  taken  cognizance  of 
all  pertinent  considerations,  and  put  the  whole  matter  together 
with  stable  coherency.  He  continues,discussing  in  the  succeed- 
ing Quaestiones  a  number  of  important  matters  incidental  to 
his  central  determination  of  the  nature  of  man's  supreme 
good.  Thus  he  shows  how  joy  (delectatid)  is  a  necessary 
accompaniment  of  beatitude,  which,  however,  in  principle 
consists  in  the  action  of  the  mind,  which  is  vt'sio,  rather  than 
in  the  resulting  delectatio.  The  latter  consists  in  a  quieting 
or  satisfying  of  the  will,  through  the  goodness  of  that  in 
which  it  is  satisfied.  When  the  will  is  satisfied  in  any  action, 
that  results  from  the  goodness  of  the  action  ;  and  the  good  lies 


CHAP.  xi.  AQUINAS  445 

in  the  action  itself  rather  than  in  the  quieting  of  the  will.1 
Here  Thomas's  reasoning  points  to  an  active  ideal,  an  ideal 
of  energizing,  rather  than  repose.  But  he  concludes  that 
for  beatitude  "  there  must  be  a  concurrence  of  vt'sio,  which 
is  the  perfect  cognizance  of  the  intelligible  end  ;  the  getting 
it,  which  implies  its  presence  ;  and  the  joy  or  fruition,  which 
implies  the  quieting  of  that  which  loves  in  that  which  is 
loved."  -  Thomas  also  shows  how  rectitude  of  will  is  needed, 
and  discusses  whether  a  body  is  essential ;  his  conclusion 
being  that  a  body  is  not  required  for  the  perfect  beatitude  of 
the  life  to  come  ;  yet  he  gives  the  counter  considerations, 
showing  the  conduciveness  of  the  perfected  body  to  the 
soul's  beatitude  even  then.  Next  he  follows  Aristotle  in 
pointing  out  how  material  goods  may  be  necessary  for  the 
attainment  of  the  imperfect  beatitude  possible  on  earth, 
while  they  are  quite  impertinent  to  the  perfect  beatitude  of 
seeing  God ;  and  likewise  he  shows  how  the  society  of 
friends  is  needed  here,  but  not  essential  hereafter,  and  yet 
a  concomitant  to  our  supreme  felicity. 

The  course  of  argument  of  the  Liber  iii.  of  the  Contra 
Gentiles  is  not  dissimilar.  A  number  of  preliminary  chapters 
show  how  all  things  tend  to  an  end  ;  that  the  end  of  all  is 
God  ;  and  that  to  know  God  is  the  end  of  every  intellectual 
being.  Next,  that  human  felicitas  does  not  consist  in  all 
those  matters,  in  which  the  Summa  theologiae  also  shows 
that  beatitude  does  not  lie  ;  but  that  it  consists  in  contempla- 
tion of  God.  He  puts  his  argument  simply  : 

"  It  remains  that  the  ultimate  felicity  of  man  lies  in  contempla- 
tion of  truth.  For  this  is  the  sole  action  (pperatio)  of  man  which  is 
proper  to  man  alone.  This  alone  is  directed  to  nothing  else,  as  an 
end ;  since  the  contemplation  of  truth  is  sought  for  its  own  sake. 
Through  this  action,  likewise,  man  is  joined  to  higher  substances 
(beings)  through  likeness  of  action,  and  through  knowing  them  in 
some  way.  For  this  action,  moreover,  man  is  most  sufficient  by 
himself,  needing  but  little  external  aid.  To  this  also  all  other 
human  acts  seem  to  be  directed  as  to  an  end.  For  to  the  perfection 
of  contemplation,  soundness  of  body  is  needed,  to  which  all  the 
arts  of  living  are  directed.  Also  quiet  from  the  disturbance  of 
passions  is  required,  to  which  one  comes  through  the  moral  virtues, 

1  Prima  sec.  Qu.  iv.  Art.  2.  *  Prima  tec.  Qu.  iv.  Art.  3. 


446  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

and  prudence ;  and  quiet  also  from  tumults,  to  which  end  all  rules 
of  civil  life  are  ordained  ;  and  so,  if  rightly  conceived,  all  human 
business  seems  to  serve  the  contemplation  of  truth.  Nor  is  it 
possible  for  the  final  felicity  of  man  to  consist  in  the  contemplation 
which  is  confined  to  an  intelligence  of  beginnings  (j>rincipiorum\ 
which  is  most  imperfect  and  general  (universalis),  containing  a 
knowledge  of  things  potentially :  it  is  the  beginning,  not  the  end  of 
human  study.  Nor  can  that  felicity  lie  in  the  contemplation  of  the 
sciences,  which  pertain  to  the  lowest  things,  since  felicity  ought  to 
lie  in  the  action  of  the  intelligence  in  relationship  to  the  noblest 
intelligible  verities.  It  remains  that  man's  final  felicity  consists  in 
the  contemplation  of  wisdom  pursuant  to  a  consideration  of  things 
divine.  From  which  it  also  is  evident  by  the  way  of  induction, 
what  was  before  proved  by  arguments,  that  the  final  felicity  of  man 
consists  only  in  contemplation  of  God."  * 

Having  reached  this  central  conclusion  of  the  Contra 
Gentiles,  as  well  as  of  the  Summa  theologiae,  Thomas  proceeds 
to  trim  it  further,  so  as  clearly  to  differentiate  that  know- 
ledge of  God  in  which  lies  the  ultimate  felicity  of  intelligent 
beings  from  other  ways  of  knowing  God,  which  do  not 
fully  represent  this  supreme  and  final  bliss.  He  first 
excludes  the  sort  of  common  and  confused  knowledge  of 
God,  which  almost  all  men  draw  from  observing  the  natural 
order  of  things  ;  then  he  shuts  out  the  knowledge  of  God 
derived  from  logical  demonstration,  through  which,  indeed, 
one  rather  approaches  a  proper  knowledge  of  Him  ; 2  next, 
he  will  not  admit  that  supreme  felicity  lies  in  the  cognition 
of  God  through  faith  ;  since  that  is  still  imperfect.  This 
felicity  consists  in  seeing 3  the  divine  essence,  an  impossibility 
in  this  life,  when  we  see  as  in  a  glass.  The  supreme  felicity 
is  attainable  only  after  death.  Hereupon  Thomas  continues 
with  the  very  crucial  discussion  of  the  capacity  of  the 
rational  creature  to  know  God.  But  instead  of  following 
him  further  in  the  Contra  Gentiles,  we  will  rather  turn  to 
his  final  presentation  of  this  question  in  his  Summa 
theologiae. 

1  Sum.  Phil,  contra  Gentiles,  iii.  37. 

2  One  cannot  avoid  applying  the  masculine  pronouns  to  God,  and  to  the 
angels  also.      But,  of  course,  this  is  a  mere  convenience  of  speech.      Thomas 
ascribes  no  sex  either  to  God  or  the  angels. 

3  It  will,  of  course,  be  borne  in  mind,  that  Thomas's  use  of  videre  and  vista 
to  express  man's  perception  of  God's  essential  nature,  does  not  mean  a  physical 
but  an  intellectual  seeing. 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  447 


II 

The  great  Summa,  having  opened  with  an  introductory 
consideration  of  the  character  of  sacra  doctrina}  at  once 
fixes  its  attention  upon  the  existence  and  attributes  of  God. 
These  having  been  reviewed,  Thomas  begins  Quaestio  xii. 
by  saying,  that  "  as  we  have  now  considered  what  God  is 
in  His  own  nature  (secundum  se  ipsum}  it  remains  to 
consider  what  He  is  in  our  cognition,  that  is,  how  He  is 
known  by  creatures."  The  first  question  is  whether  any 
created  intelligence  whatsoever  may  be  able  to  see  God 
per  essentiam.  Having  stated  the  counter  arguments,  and 
relying  on  John's  "we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is,"  Thomas 
proceeds  with  his  solution  thus  : 

"Since  everything  may  be  knowable  so  far  as  it  exists  in 
actuality,2  God,  who  is  pure  actuality,  without  any  mingling  of 
potentiality,  is  in  Himself,  most  knowable.  But  what  is  most 
knowable  in  itself,  is  not  knowable  to  every  intelligence  because 
of  the  exceeding  greatness  of  that  which  is  to  be  known  (profiler 
excessum  intelligibilis  supra  intellectum) ;  as  the  sun,  which  is  most 
visible,  may  not  be  seen  by  a  bat,  because  of  the  excess  of  light 
Mindful  of  this,  some  have  asserted  that  no  created  intelligence 
could  behold  the  essential  nature  (essentiam)  of  God. 

"But  this  is  a  solecism.  For  since  man's  final  beatitude 
consists  in  his  highest  action,  which  is  the  action  of  the  intelligence, 
if  the  created  intelligence  is  never  to  be  able  to  see  the  essential 
nature  of  God,  either  it  will  never  obtain  beatitude,  or  its  beatitude 
will  consist  in  something  besides  God :  which  is  repugnant  to  the 
faith.  For  the  ultimate  perfection  of  a  rational  creature  lies  in 
that  which  is  the  source  or  principle  (principium)  of  its  being. 
Likewise  the  argument  is  against  reason.  For  there  is  in  man  a 
natural  desire  to  know  the  cause,  when  he  observes  the  effect ;  and 
from  this,  wonder  rises  in  men.  If  then  the  intelligence  of  the 
rational  creature  is  incapable  of  attaining  to  the  first  cause  of 
things,  an  inane  desire  must  be  ascribed  to  nature. 

"  Wherefore  it  is  simply  to  be  conceded  that  the  blessed  may 
see  the  essential  nature  of  God." 

So  this  general  conclusion,  or  assumption,  is  based  on 
faith,  and  also  leaps,  as  from  the  head  of  Jove,  the  creature 

1  Given  ante,  pp.  290  sqq. 

2  Secundum  quod  est  in  actu,  i.e.  in  realized  actuality  as  distinguished  from 
potentiality  (Aristotelian  conceptions). 


448  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

of  unconquerable  human  need,  which  never  will  admit  the 
inaneness  of  its  yearnings.  And  now,  assuming  the 
possibility  of  seeing  God  in  his  true  nature,  Thomas  proves 
that  He  cannot  be  seen  thus  through  the  similitude  of  any 
created  thing :  in  order  to  behold  God's  essence  some 
divine  likeness  must  be  imparted  from  the  seeing  power 
(ex  parte  visivae  potentiae\  to  wit,  the  light  of  divine  glory 
(which  is  consummated  grace)  strengthening  the  intelligence 
that  it  may  see  God.  And  he  next  shows  that  it  is 
impossible  to  see  God  by  the  sense  of  sight,  or  any  other 
sense  or  power  of  man's  sensible  nature.  For  God  is 
incorporeal.  Therefore  He  cannot  be  seen  through  the 
imagination,  but  only  through  the  intelligence.  Nor  can 
any  created  intelligence  through  its  natural  faculties  see 
the  divine  essence.  "  Cognition  takes  place  in  so  far  as 
the  known  is  in  the  knower.  But  the  known  is  in  the 
knower  according  to  the  mode  and  capacity  {modus}  of 
the  knower.  Whence  any  knower's  knowledge  is  according 
to  the  measure  of  his  nature.  If  then  the  being  of  the 
thing  to  be  known  exceeds  the  measure  of  the  knowing 
nature,  knowledge  of  it  will  be  beyond  the  nature  of  that 
knower."  In  order  to  see  God  in  His  essential  nature, 
the  created  intellect  needs  light  created  by  God :  In 
lumine  tuo  videbimus  lumen.  And  it  may  be  given  to 
one  created  intellect  to  see  more  perfectly  than  another. 

Do  those  who  see  God  per  essentiam,  comprehend 
Him  ?  No. 

"  To  comprehend  God  is  impossible  for  any  created  intelligence. 
To  have  any  true  thought  of  God  is  a  great  beatitude.  .  .  .  Since 
the  created  light  of  glory  received  by  any  created  intelligence, 
cannot  be  infinite,  it  is  impossible  that  any  created  intelligence 
should  know  God  infinitely,  and  comprehend  Him." 

Again  he  reasons  ;  They  who  shall  see  God  in  His 
essence  will  see  what  they  see  through  the  divine  essence 
united  to  their  intelligence  ;  they  will  see  whatever  they 
see  at  once,  and  not  successively  ;  for  the  contents  of  this 
intellectual,  God-granted  vision  are  not  apprehended  by 
means  of  the  respective  species  or  general  images,  but  in 
and  through  the  one  divine  essence.  But  in  this  life,  man 
may  not  see  God  in  His  essential  nature : 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  449 

"  The  mode  of  cognition  conforms  to  the  nature  of  the  knower. 
But  our  soul,  so  long  as  we  live  in  this  life,  has  its  existence  (esse) 
in  corporeal  matter.  Wherefore,  by  nature,  it  knows  only  things 
that  have  material  form,  or  may  through  such  be  known.  Evidently 
the  divine  essence  cannot  be,  known  through  the  natures  of 
material  things.  Any  cognition  of  God  through  any  created  like- 
ness whatsoever,  is  not  a  vision  of  His  essence.  .  .  .  Our  natural 
cognition  draws  its  origin  from  sense ;  it  may  extend  itself  so  far 
as  it  can  be  conducted  (tnanuduci)  by  things  of  sense  (scnsi&ilia). 
But  from  them  our  intelligence  may  not  attain  to  seeing  the 
divine  essence.  .  .  .  Yet  since  sensible  creatures  are  effects, 
dependant  on  a  cause,  we  know  from  them  that  God  exists,  and 
that  as  first  cause  He  exceeds  all  that  He  has  caused.  From  which 
we  may  learn  the  difference  between  Himself  and  His  creatures, 
to  wit,  that  He  is  not  any  of  those  things  which  He  has  caused.  .  .  . 

"Through  grace  a  more  perfect  knowledge  of  God  is  had 
than  through  natural  reason.  For  cognition  through  natural  reason 
needs  both  images  (phantasmata)  received  from  things  of  sense, 
and  the  natural  light  of  intelligence,  through  whose  virtue  we 
abstract  intelligible  conceptions  from  them.  In  both  respects 
human  cognition  is  aided  through  the  revelation  of  grace.  For 
the  natural  light  of  the  intellect  is  strengthened  through  the  in- 
fusion of  light  graciously  given  (luminis  gratuiti) ;  while  the  images 
in  the  man's  imagination  are  divinely  formed  so  that  they  are  ex- 
pressive of  things  divine,  rather  than  of  what  naturally  is  received 
through  the  senses,  as  appears  from  the  visions  of  the  prophets." ! 

Natural  reason  stops  with  the  unity  of  God,  and  can 
give  no  knowledge  of  the  Trinity  of  divine  Persons.  Says 
Thomas  : 2 

"  It  has  been  shown  that  through  natural  reason  man  can  know 
God  only  from  His  creatures.  Creatures  lead  to  knowledge  of  God 
as  effects  lead  to  some  knowledge  of  a  cause.  Only  that  may  be 
known  of  God  by  natural  reason  which  necessarily  belongs  to  Him 
as  the  source  of  all  existences.  The  creative  virtue  of  God  is 
common  to  the  whole  Trinity ;  it  pertains  to  the  unity  of  essence, 
not  to  the  distinction  of  persons.  Through  natural  reason,  there- 
fore, those  things  concerning  God  may  be  known  which  pertain  to 
the  unity  of  essence,  but  not  those  which  pertain  to  the  distinction 
of  persons.  .  .  .  Who  strives  to  prove  the  Trinity  of  Persons  by 
natural  reason,  doubly  disparages  faith :  first  as  regards  the  dignity 
of  faith  itself,  which  concerns  invisible  things  surpassing  human 
reason ;  secondly  as  derogating  from  its  efficiency  in  drawing  men 

1  The  foregoing  is  taken  from  the  thirteen  articuli  into  which  Quaestio  xii. 
is  divided.  2  Pars  frima,  Quaestio  xxxii.  Art.  I. 

VOL.  II  2  G 


450  THE  MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

to  it.  For  when  any  one  in  order  to  prove  the  faith  adduces 
reasons  which  are  not  cogent,  he  falls  under  the  derision  of  the 
faithless ;  for  they  think  that  we  use  such  arguments,  and  that  we 
believe  because  of  them.  One  shall  not  attempt  to  prove  things 
of  faith  save  by  authorities,  and  in  discussion  with  those  who 
receive  the  authorities.  With  others  it  is  enough  to  argue  that 
what  the  faith  announces  is  not  impossible." 

Here  Thomas  seems  rationally  to  recognize  the  limits 
upon  reason  in  discovering  the  divine  nature.  In  the  regions 
of  faith,  reason's  feet  lack  the  material  footing  upon  which 
to  mount.  So  Thomas  would  assert.  But  will  he  stand  to 
his  assertion  ?  The  shadowy  line  between  reason  and  faith 
wavers  with  him.  At  least  so  it  seems  to  us,  for  whom 
ontological  reasoning  has  lost  reality,  and  who  find  proofs 
of  God  not  so  much  easier  than  proofs  of  the  Trinity.  But 
Thomas  and  the  other  scholastics  dwelt  in  the  region  of  the 
metaphysically  ideal.  To  them  it  was  not  only  real,  but 
the  most  real ;  and  it  was  so  natural  to  step  across  the  line 
of  faith,  trailing  clouds  of  reason.  The  feet  of  such  as 
Thomas  are  as  firmly  planted  on  the  one  side  of  the  line 
as  on  the  other.  And  now,  as  it  might  also  seem,  Thomas, 
having  thus  formally  reserved  the  realm  of  faith,  quickly 
steps  across  the  line,  to  undertake  a  tremendous  meta- 
physical exposition  of  the  Trinity,  of  the  distinctions  between 
its  Persons,  of  their  properties,  respective  functions,  and 
relationships ;  and  all  this  is  carried  on  largely  in  the 
categories  of  Aristotelian  philosophy.  Yet  is  he  not  still 
consistent  with  himself?  For  he  surely  did  not  conceive 
the  elements  of  his  discussion  to  lie  in  the  lucubrations  or 
discoveries  of  the  natural  reason  ;  but  in  the  data  of  revela- 
tion, and  their  explanation  by  saintly  doctors.  And  was 
not  he  also  a  vessel  of  their  inspiration,  a  son  of  faith,  who 
might  humbly  hope  for  the  light  of  grace,  to  transfigure  and 
glorify  his  natural  powers  in  the  service  of  revealed  truth  ? 

Thomas's  ideal  is  intellectual,  and  yet  ends  in  faith. 
His  intellectual  interests,  by  faith  emboldened,  strengthened, 
and  pointed  heavenward,  make  on  toward  the  realisation  of 
that  intellectual  beatitude  which  is  to  be  consummate  here- 
after, when  the  saved  soul's  grace -illumined  eye  shall 
re-awaken  where  it  may  see  face  to  face. 


AQUINAS  45, 


III 

Knowledge,  then,  supplemented  in  this  life  by  faith,  is 
the  primary  element  of  blessedness.  We  now  turn  our 
attention  to  the  forms  of  knowledge  and  modes  of  knowing 
appropriate  to  the  three  rational  substances :  God,  angel, 
man.  The  first  is  the  absolute  incorporeal  being,  the  primal 
mover,  in  whom  there  is  no  potentiality,  but  actuality 
simple  and  perfect.  The  second  is  the  created  immaterial 
or  "  separated "  substance,  which  is  all  that  it  is  through 
participation  in  the  uncreate  being  of  its  Creator.  The 
third  is  the  composite  creature  man,  made  of  both  soul  and 
body,  his  capacities  conditioned  upon  the  necessities  of  his 
dual  nature,  his  sense-perception  and  imagination  being  as 
necessary  to  his  knowledge,  as  his  rational  understanding  ; 
for  whom  alone  it  is  true  that  sense-apprehension  may  lead 
to  the  intelligible  verities  of  God  :  "  etiam  sensibilia  intellecta 
manuducunt  ad  intelligibilia  divinorum." 1 

The  earlier  Quaestiones  of  Pars  prima,  on  the  nature 
of  God,  lead  on  to  a  consideration  of  God's  knowledge 
and  ways  of  knowing.  Those  Quaestiones  expounded  the 
qualities  of  God  quite  as  far  as  comported  with  Thomas's 
realization  of  the  limitation  of  the  human  capacity  to  know 
God  in  this  life.  Quaestio  iii.  upon  the  Simplicitas  of  God, 
shows  that  God  is  not  body  (corpus]  \  that  in  Him  there  is 
no  compositeness  of  form  and  material ;  that  throughout 
His  nature,  He  is  one  and  the  same,  and  therefore  that  He  is 
His  Deitas,  His  vita,  and  whatever  else  may  be  predicated 
of  Him.  Next  it  is  shown  (Qu.  iv.)  that  God  is  perfect ; 
that  in  Him  are  the  perfectiones  of  all  things,  since  whatever 
there  may  be  of  perfection  in  an  effect,  should  be  found  in 
the  effective  cause  ;  and  as  God  is  self-existent  being,  He 
must  contain  the  whole  perfection  of  being  in  Himself  (totam 
perfectionem  essendi  in  se).  Next,  that  God  is  the  good 
(bonum)  and  the  summum  bonum  ;  He  is  infinite  ;  He  is  in 
all  things  (Qu.  viii.  Art  i)  not  as  a  part  of  their  essence, 
but  as  accidens,  and  as  the  doer  is  in  his  deeds  ;  and  not 
only  in  their  beginning,  but  so  long  as  they  exist ;  He  acts 

1  Quaestiones  disputatae:  De  Veritate,  x.  6.     Citing  Rom.  i.  20. 


452  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

upon  everything  immediately,  and  nothing  is  distant  from 
Him  ;  God  is  everywhere :  as  the  soul  is  altogether  in  every 
part  of  the  body,  so  God  entire  is  in  all  things  and  in  each. 
God  is  in  all  things  created  by  Him  as  the  working  cause  ; 
but  He  is  in  the  rational  creature,  through  grace ;  as  the 
object  of  action  is  in  the  actor,  as  the  known  is  in  the 
knower,  and  the  desired  in  the  wishful.  God  is  immutable 
(Qu.  ix.) ;  for  as  final  actuality  (actus  purus\  with  no 
admixture  of  potentiality,  He  cannot  change  ;  nor  can  He 
be  moved ;  since  His  infinitude  comprehends  the  plenitude 
of  all  perfection,  there  is  nothing  that  He  can  acquire,  and 
no  whither  for  Him  to  extend.  God  is  eternal  (Qu.  x.) ;  for 
him  there  is  no  beginning,  nor  any  succession  of  time  ;  but 
an  interminable  now,  an  all  at  once  (iota  siniul),  which  is  the 
essence  of  eternity,  as  distinguished  from  the  successiveness 
of  even  infinite  time.  And  God  is  One  (Qu.  xi.).  "  One 
does  not  add  anything  to  being,  save  negation  of  division. 
For  One  signifies  nothing  else  than  undivided  being  (ens 
indivisum).  And  from  this  it  follows  that  One  is  convert- 
ible with  being."  That  God  is  One,  is  proved  by  His 
simplicitas ;  by  the  infiniteness  of  His  perfection  ;  and  by 
the  oneness  of  the  world. 

"After  a  consideration,"  now  says  Thomas,  "of  those  matters 
which  pertain  to  the  divine  substance,  we  may  consider  those  which 
pertain  to  its  action  (operatio).  And  because  certain  kinds  of 
action  remain  in  the  doer,  while  others  pass  out  into  external  effect, 
we  first  treat  of  knowledge  and  will  (for  knowing  is  in  the  knower 
and  willing  in  him  who  wills) ;  and  then  of  God's  power,  which  is 
regarded  as  the  source  of  the  divine  action  passing  out  into  external 
effect.  Then,  since  knowing  is  a  kind  of  living,  after  considering 
the  divine  knowledge,  the  divine  life  will  be  considered.  And 
because  knowledge  is  of  the  true,  there  will  be  need  to  consider 
truth  and  falsity.  Again  since  every  cognition  is  in  the  knower, 
the  rations  (types,  essential  natures)  of  things  as  they  are  in  God 
the  Knower  (Deo  cognoscente)  are  called  ideas  (ideat) ;  and  a 
consideration  of  these  will  be  joined  to  the  consideration  of  know- 
ledge." x 

Thus  clearly  laying  out  his  topic,  Thomas  begins  his 
discussion  of  God's  knowledge  (scientia  Dei]  ;  of  the  modes 
in  which  God  knows  and  the  knowledge  which  He  has.  In 

1   Prooemium  to  Qu.  xiv.  Pars  prima. 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  453 

God  is  the  most  perfect  knowledge.  God  knows  Himself 
through  Himself;  in  Him  knowledge  and  Knower  (intellectual 
and  intellectus]  are  the  same.1  He  perfectly  comprehends 
Himself;  for  He  knows  Himself  so  far  as  He  is  knowable  ; 
and  He  is  absolutely  knowable  being  utter  reality  (actus 
purus}.  Likewise  He  knows  things  other  than  Himself. 
For  He  knows  Himself  perfectly,  which  implies  a  know- 
ledge of  those  things  to  which  His  power  (virtus]  extends. 
Moreover,  He  knows  all  things  in  their  special  natures 
and  distinctions  from  each  other :  for  the  perfection,  or 
perfected  actuality,  of  everything  is  contained  in  Him  ; 
and  therefore  God  in  Himself  is  able  to  know  all  things 
perfectly,  and  the  special  nature  of  everything  exists 
through  some  manner  of  participation  in  the  divine  per- 
fection. God  knows  all  things  in  one,  to  wit,  Himself;  and 
not  successively,  or  by  means  of  discursive  reasoning.  "God's 
knowledge  is  the  cause  of  things.  It  stands  to  all  created 
beings  as  the  knowledge  of  the  artificer  to  the  things  he 
makes.  God  causes  things  through  His  knowledge,  since 
His  being  is  His  knowing  (cum  suum  esse  sit  suutn  intelli- 
gere)"  His  knowledge  causes  things  when  it  has  the  will 
joined  with  it,  and,  in  so  far  as  it  is  the  cause  of  things, 
is  called  scientia  approbations.  God  knows  things  which  are 
not  actually  (actu\  Whatever  has  been  or  will  be,  He  knows 
by  the  knowledge  of  sight  (scientia  visionis,  which  by  implica- 
tion is  equivalent  to  scientia  approbations'}.  For  God's  know- 
ing, which  is  His  being,  is  measured  by  eternity  ;  and  eternity 
includes  all  time,  as  present,  and  without  succession  ;  so  the 
present  vision  (intuitus]  of  God  embraces  all  time  and  all 
things  existing  at  any  time,  as  if  present.  As  for  whatever 
is  in  the  power  of  God  or  creature,  but  which  never  has  been 
or  will  be,  God  knows  it  not  as  in  vision,  but  simply  knows 
it. 

God  also  knows  evil. 

"Whoever  knows  anything  perfectly  should  know  whatever 
might  happen  to  it.  There  are  some  good  things  to  which  it  may 
happen  to  be  corrupted  through  evils  :  wherefore  God  would  not 

1  Qu.  xiv.  Art.  2— a  point  which  Thomas  reasons  out  in  interesting  scholastic 
Aristotelian  fashion,  hut  in  language  too  technical  to  translate. 


454  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

know  the  good  perfectly,  unless  He  also  knew  the  evil.  Everything 
is  knowable  so  far  as  it  is ;  but  the  being  (esse)  of  evil  is  the  priva- 
tion of  good :  hence  inasmuch  as  God  knows  good,  He  knows  evil, 
as  darkness  is  known  through  light." 

Thomas  now  takes  up  a  point  curious  perhaps  to  us, 
but  of  importance  to  him  and  Aristotle :  does  God  know 
individuals  (singularia},  the  particular  as  opposed  to  the 
universal  ?  This  point  might  seem  disposed  of  in  the 
argument  by  which  Thomas  maintained  that  God  knew 
things  in  their  special  and  distinct  natures.  But  he  now 
proves  that  God  knows  singularia  by  an  argument  which 
bears  on  his  contention  that  man  does  not  know  singularia 
through  the  intelligence,  but  perceives  them  through  sense  ; 
and  as  we  shall  see,  that  the  angels  have  no  direct  know- 
ledge of  individuals,  being  immaterial  substances. 

"God  knows  individuals  (cognoscit  singularia}.  For  all  perfections 
found  in  creatures  pre-exist  in  higher  mode  in  God.  To  know 
(cognoscere)  individuals  pertains  to  our  perfection.  Whence  it 
follows  that  God  must  know  them.  The  Philosopher  (Aristotle) 
holds  it  to  be  illogical  that  anything  should  be  known  to  us,  and  not 
to  God.  .  .  .  But  the  perfections  which  are  divided  in  inferior 
beings,  exist  simply  and  as  one  in  God.  Hence,  although  through 
one  faculty  we  know  universals  and  what  is  immaterial,  and  through 
another,  individuals  and  what  is  material ;  yet  God  simply,  through 
His  intelligence,  knows  both.  .  .  .  One  must  hold  that  since  God  is 
the  cause  of  things  through  His  knowledge,  the  knowledge  of  God 
extends  itself  as  far  as  His  causality  extends.  Wherefore,  since 
God's  active  virtue  extends  itself  not  only  to  forms,  from  which  is 
received  the  ratio  of  the  universal,  but  also  to  matter,  it  is  necessary 
that  God's  knowledge  should  extend  itself  to  individuals,  which  are 
such  through  matter." 

And  replying  to  a  counter-argument  Thomas  continues  : 

"Our  intelligence  abstracts  the  intelligible  species  from  the 
individuating  principles.  Therefore  the  intelligible  species  of  our 
intelligence  cannot  be  the  likeness  of  the  individual  principles  ; 
and,  for  this  reason,  our  intelligence  does  not  know  individuals. 
But  the  intelligible  species  of  the  divine  intelligence,  which  is 
the  essence  of  God,  is  not  immaterial  through  abstraction,  but 
through  itself ;  and  exists  as  the  principle  of  all  principles  entering 
the  composition  of  the  thing,  whether  principles  of  species  or  of 


CHAP,  xi,  AQUINAS  455 

the  individual.     Therefore  through  His  essence  God  knows  both 
universals  and  individuals."  1 

With  these  arguments  still  echoing,  Thomas  shows  that 
God  can  know  infinite  things  ;  also  future  contingencies  ; 
also  whatever  may  be  stated  (enuntiabilid).  His  knowledge, 
which  is  His  substance,  does  not  change.  It  is  speculative 
knowledge,  in  so  far  as  relating  to  His  own  unchangeable 
nature,  and  to  whatever  He  can  do,  but  does  not  ;  it  is 
practical  knowledge  so  far  as  it  relates  to  anything  which  He 
does. 

Thomas  concludes  his  direct  discussion  of  God's  know- 
ledge, by  an  application  of  the  Platonic  theory  of  ideas,  in 
which  he  mainly  follows  Augustine. 

"  It  is  necessary  to  place  ideas  in  the  divine  mind.  Idea  is  the 
Greek  for  the  Latin  forma.  Thus  through  ideas  are  understood  the 
forms  of  things  existing  beyond  the  things  themselves.  By  which 
we  mean  the  prototype  (exemplar)  of  that  of  which  it  is  called  the 
form;  or  the  principle  of  its  cognition,  in  so  far  as  the  forms  of 
things  knowable  are  said  to  be  in  the  knower." 

There  must  be  many  ideas  or  (as  Augustine  phrases  it) 
stable  rationes  of  things.  There  is  a  ratio  in  the  divine 
mind  corresponding  to  whatever  God  does  or  knows. 

"  Ideas  were  set  by  Plato  as  the  principles  both  of  the  cognition 
and  the  generation  of  things,  and  in  both  senses  they  are  to  be 
placed  in  the  divine  mind.  So  far  as  idea  is  the  principle  of  the 
making  of  a  thing,  it  may  be  called  the  prototype  (exemplar),  and 
pertains  to  practical  knowledge  (practicam  cognitionem) ;  but  as  the 
principle  of  cognition  (prindpium  cognoscitivum),  it  is  properly  called 
ratio,  and  may  also  pertain  to  speculative  knowledge.  In  the 
signification  of  exemplar,  it  relates  to  everything  created  at  any  time 
by  God :  but  when  it  means  principium  cognoscitivum,  it  relates  to 
all  things  which  are  known  by  God,  although  never  coming  into 
existence."2 

Such  are  the  divine  modes  of  knowledge.  Thomas 
proceeds  to  discuss  other  aspects  of  the  divine  nature,  the 
life  and  power,  will  and  love,  which  may  be  ascribed  to  God. 
He  then  passes  on  to  a  discussion  of  the  Persons  of  the 
Trinity.  This  completed,  he  turns  to  the  world  of  created 
substances  ;  into  which  we  will  follow  him  so  far  as  to  observe 

1  Pars  prima,  Qu.  xiv.  Art.  II.  J  Pars  ft irna,  Qu.  xv.  Art.  1-3. 


456  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

the  forms  of  knowledge  and  ways  of  knowing  proper  to 
angels  and  mankind.  We  shall  hereafter  have  to  speak  of 
the  divine  and  angelic  love,  and  of  man's  love  of  God  ;  but 
here,  as  our  field  is  intellectual,  we  will  simply  recall  to  mind 
that  Thomas  applies  a  like  intellectual  conception  of  beatitude 
to  both  God  and  His  rational  creatures : 

"  Beatitude,  as  has  been  said,  signifies  the  perfect  good  of  the 
intellectual  nature;  as  everything  desires  its  perfection,  the  intel- 
lectual [substance]  desires  to  be  beata.  That  which  is  most  perfect 
in  every  intellectual  nature,  is  the  intellectual  operation  wherein,  in 
a  measure,  it  grasps  all  things.  Wherefore  the  beatitude  of  any 
created  intellectual  nature  consists  in  knowing  (in  intelligendo)" * 


IV 

Thomas  regards  the  creation  as  a  processio,  a  going  out 
of  all  creatures  from  God.  Every  being  (ens}  that  in  any 
manner  (quocumque  modo]  is,  is  from  God. 

"  God  is  the  prima  causa  exemplaris  of  all  things.  .  .  .  For  the 
production  of  anything,  there  is  needed  a  prototype  (exemplar),  in 
order  that  the  effect  may  follow  a  determined  form.  .  .  .  The 
determination  of  forms  must  be  sought  in  the  divine  wisdom. 
Hence  one  ought  to  say  that  in  the  divine  wisdom  are  the 
rationes  of  all  things :  these  we  have  called  ideas,  to  wit,  prototypal 
forms  existing  in  the  divine  mind.  Although  such  may  be  multiplied 
in  respect  to  things,  yet  really  they  are  not  other  than  the  divine 
essence,  according  as  its  similitude  can  be  participated  in  by  divers 
things  in  divers  ways.  Thus  God  Himself  is  the  first  exemplar  of 
all.  There  may  also  be  said  to  be  in  created  things  certain 
exemplaria  of  other  things,  when  they  are  made  in  the  likeness  of 
such  others,  or  according  to  the  same  species  or  after  the  analogy 
of  some  resemblance."  2 

God  not  only  is  the  efficient  and  exemplary  cause,  but 
also  the  final  cause  of  all  things  (Divina  bonitas  est  finis 
omnium  rerum).  "  The  emanation  (emanatio)  of  all  being 
from  the  universal  cause,  which  is  God,  we  call  creation."  * 
God  alone  may  be  said  to  create.  The  function  pertains 
not  to  any  Person,  but  to  the  whole  Trinity  in  common. 
And  there  is  found  some  image  of  the  Trinity  in  rational 

1  Pars  prima,  Qu.  xxvi.  Art.  2.  2  Pars  pritna,  Qu.  xliv.  Art.  3. 

s  Pars  prima,  Qu.  xlv.  Art.  I. 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  457 

creatures  in  whom  is  intelligence  and  will  ;  and  in  all 
.creatures  may  be  found  some  vestiges  of  the  creator. 

Thomas,  after  a  while,  takes  up  the  distinction  between 
spiritual  and  corporeal  creatures,  and  considers  first  the 
purely  spiritual,  called  Angels.  We  enter  with  him  upon 
the  contemplation  of  these  conceptions,  which  scholasticism 
did  not  indeed  create,  but  elaborated  with  marvellous  logic, 
.and  refined  to  a  consistent  intellectual  beauty.  None  had 
larger  share  in  perfecting  the  logical  conception  of  the 
angelic  nature,  as  immaterial  and  essentially  intellectual, 
than  our  Angelic  Doctor.  A  volume  might  well  be  devoted 
to  tracing  the  growth  of  these  beings  of  the  mind,  from 
their  not  unmilitant  career  in  the  Old  Testament  and  the 
Jewish  Apocrypha,  their  brief  but  classically  beautiful 
mention  in  the  Gospels,  and  their  storm-red  action  in  the 
Apocalypse  ;  then  through  their  treatment  by  the  Fathers, 
to  their  hierarchic  ordering  by  the  great  Pseudo-Areopagite  ; 
and  so  on  and  on,  through  the  earlier  Scholastics,  the 
Lombard's  Sentences,  and  Hugo  of  St.  Victor's  appreciative 
presentation  ;  up  to  the  gathering  of  all  the  angelic  matter 
by  Albertus  Magnus,  its  further  encyclopaedizing  by  Vincent 
of  Beauvais,  and  finally  its  perfect  intellectual  disembodiment 
by  Thomas ; — while  all  the  time  the  people's  mythopoeic 
love  went  on  endowing  these  guardian  spirits  with  heart  and 
soul,  and  fashioning  responsive  stories  of  their  doings. 
For  men  loved  and  feared  them,  and  looked  to  them  as 
God's  peculiar  messengers.  Thus  they  flash  past  us  in  the 
Divina  Commedia  ;  and  their  forms  become  lovely  in  Christian 
;art. 

As  we  enter  upon  the  contemplation  of  the  angelic 
nature,  let  us  not  as  of  course  regard  angels  simply  as 
imaginative  conceptions  of  Scripture  and  of  the  patristic 
and  mediaeval  mind.  Thomas  will  show  his  reasons  for 
their  necessary  existence,  which  may  not  convince  us.  Yet 
we  may  believe  in  angels,  inasmuch  as  any  real  conception 
of  the  world's  governance  by  God  requires  the  fulfilling  of 
His  thoughts  through  media  that  bring  them  down  to  move 
.and  live  and  realize  themselves  with  each  of  us.  Who,  in 
striving  to  express,  can  do  more  than  symbolize,  the  ways  of 
God  ?  What  symbols  truer  than  angels  have  been  devised  ? 


458  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  VH 

"It  is  necessary,"  opens  Thomas,1  "to  affirm  (ponere)  that 
there  are  incorporeal  creatures.  For  in  created  things  God 
chiefly  intends  the  good,  which  consists  in  assimilation  to  Him. 
Perfect  assimilation  of  the  effect  to  the  cause  is  seen  when  the 
effect  resembles  the  cause  in  that  through  which  the  cause  produces 
the  effect.  God  produces  the  creature  through  intelligence  and 
will.  Consequently  the  perfection  of  the  universe  requires  that 
there  should  be  intellectual  creatures.  To  know  cannot  be  the 
act  (actus)  of  the  body  or  of  any  corporeal  faculty  (virtus) ; 
because  all  body  is  limited  to  here  and  now.  Therefore  it  is 
necessary,  in  order  that  the  universe  may  be  perfect,  that  there 
should  be  incorporeal  creatures."  2 

Thomas  then  argues  that  the  intellectual  substance  is 
entirely  immaterial.  "  Angelic  substances  are  above  our 
understanding.  So  our  understanding  cannot  attain  to 
apprehending  them  as  they  are  in  themselves  ;  but  only 
in  its  own  fashion  as  it  apprehends  composite  things." 
These  immaterial  substances  exist  in  exceeding  great 
number,  and  each  is  a  species,  because  there  cannot  be 
several  immaterial  beings  of  one  species,  any  more  than 
there  could  be  separate  whitenesses  or  many  humanities. 
Angels  in  their  nature  are  imperishable.  For  nothing  is 
corrupted  save  as  its  form  is  -  separated  from  its  matter. 
But  these  immaterial  substances  are  not  composed  of 
matter  and  form,  being  themselves  subsisting  forms  and 
indestructible.  Brass  may  have  and  lose  a  circular  shape  ; 
but  the  circular  shape  cannot  be  separated  from  the  circle, 
which  it  is. 

Thomas  next  shows  (Pars  prima,  Qu.  li.)  that  angels 
have  no  bodies  by  nature  joined  to  them.  Body  is  not  of 
the  ratio  of  intellectual  substances.  These  (when  perfect  and 
not  like  the  human  soul)  have  no  need  to  acquire  knowledge 
through  sensation.  But  though  angels  are  intellectual 
substances,  separate  (separatae)  from  bodies,  they  sometimes 
assume  bodies.  In  these  they  can  perform  those  actions 

1  Summa  theol.  pars  prima,  Qu.  1.    As  heretofore,  I  follow  the  exposition  of 
the  Summa  theologiae.    But  Thomas  began  a  large  and  almost  historical  treatment 
of  angels  in  his  unfinished    Tract,   de  substantiis  separafis,  feu  de  Angelorunt 
natura    (unfinished,    in     Opuscula    theol.).      He   has    another    and     important 
tractatus,  De  cognitione  Angelorunt,  Quaestiones  disput.  de  veritate,  viii. 

2  Pars  prima,  Qu.  1.   Art.  I.      Thomas  goes  on  to  contradict  Aristotle,  in 
holding  quod  nullum  ens  esset  nisi  cwpus. 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  459 

of  life  which  have  something  in  common  with  other  kinds 
of  acts  ;  as  speech,  a  living  act,  has  something  in  common 
with  inanimate  sounds.  Thus  far  only  can  physical  acts 
be  performed  by  angels,  and  not  when  such  acts  essentially 
belong  to  living  bodies.  Angels  may  appear  as  living  men, 
but  are  not ;  neither  are  they  sentient  through  the  organs 
of  their  assumed  bodies  ;  they  do  not  eat  and  digest  food  ; 
they  move  only  per  accidens,  incidentally  to  the  inanimate 
motion  of  their  assumed  bodies  ;  they  do  not  beget,  nor 
do  they  really  speak ;  "  but  it  is  something  like  speech, 
when  these  bodies  make  sounds  in  the  air  like  human 
voices." 

Dropping  the  sole  remark,  that  scholasticism  has  no 
sense  of  humour,  we  pass  on  to  Thomas's  careful  considera- 
tion of  the  angelic  relations  to  space  or  locality  (Qu.  Hi. 
and  liii.).  "  Equivocally  only  may  it  be  said  that  an 
angel  is  in  a  place  (in  loco}  :  through  application  of  the 
angelic  virtue  to  some  corporeal  spot,  the  angel  may  be 
said  in  some  sense  to  be  there."  But,  as  angels  are  finite, 
when  one  is  said,  in  this  sense,  to  be  in  a  place,  he  is  not 
elsewhere  too  (like  God).  Yet  the  place  where  the  angel  is 
need  not  be  an  indivisible  point,  but  may  be  larger  or 
smaller,  as  the  angel  wills  to  apply  his  virtue  to  a  larger 
or  smaller  body.  Two  angels  may  not  be  in  the  same  place 
at  the  same  time,  "  because  it  is  impossible  that  there 
should  be  two  complete  immediate  causes  of  one  and  the 
same  thing."  Angels  are  said,  likewise  equivocally,  to 
move,  in  a  sense  analogous  to  that  in  which  they  are  said 
to  be  in  a  place.  Such  equivocal  motion  may  be  continuous 
or  not.  If  not  continuous,  evidently  the  angel  may  pass 
from  one  place  to  another  without  traversing  the  intervening 
spaces.  The  angelic  movement  must  take  place  in  time  ; 
there  must  be  a  before  and  after  to  it,  and  yet  not 
necessarily  with  any  period  intervening. 

Now  as  to  angelic  knowledge :  De  cognitione  Angelorum. 
Knowing  is  no  easy  thing  for  man  ;  and  we  shall  see  that 
it  is  not  a  simple  matter  to  know,  without  the  senses  to 
provide  the  data  and  help  build  up  knowledge  in  the 
mind.  The  function  of  sense,  or  its  absence,  conditions 
much  besides  the  mere  acquisition  of  the  elements  from 


460  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

which  men  form  their  thoughts.  Thomas's  exposition  of 
angelic  knowledge  and  modes  of  knowing  is  a  logical  and 
consistent  presentation  of  a  supersensual  psychology  and 
theory  of  knowledge. 

Entering  upon  his  subject,  Thomas  shows  (Qu.  liv.) 
that  knowing  (intelligere)  is  not  the  substantia  or  the  esse  of 
an  angel.  Knowing  is  actio,  which  is  the  actuality  of 
faculty,  as  being  (esse}  is  the  actuality  of  substance.  God 
alone  is  actus  purus  (absolute  realized  actuality),  free  from 
potentiality.  His  substantia  is  His  being  and  His  action 
(suum  esse  and  suum  agere).  "  But  neither  in  an  angel, 
nor  in  any  creature,  is  virtus  or  the  potentia  operativa  the 
same  as  the  creature's  essentia"  or  its  esse  or  substantia. 
The  difficult  scholastic-Aristotelian  categories  of  intellectus 
agens  and  possibilis  do  not  apply  to  angelic  cognition  (for 
which  the  reader  and  the  angels  may  be  thankful).  The 
angels,  being  immaterial  intelligences,  have  no  share  in 
those  faculties  of  the  human  soul,  like  sight  or  hearing, 
which  are  exercised  through  bodily  organs.  They  possess 
only  intelligence  and  will.  "  It  accords  with  the  order  of 
the  universe  that  the  supreme  intellectual  creature  should 
be  intelligent  altogether,  and  not  intelligent  in  part,  like 
our  souls." 

Quaestio  lv.,  concerning  the  medium  cognitionis  angelicas, 
is  a  scholastic  discussion  scarcely  to  be  rendered  in  modern 
language.  The  angelic  intelligence  is  capable  of  knowing 
all  things  ;  and  therefore  an  angel  does  not  know  through 
the  medium  of  his  essentia  or  substantia,  which  are  limited. 
God  alone  knows  all  things  through  His  essentia.  The 
angelic  intellect  is  made  perfect  for  knowing  by  means  of 
certain  forms  or  ideas  (species).  These  are  not  received 
from  things,  but  are  part  of  the  angelic  nature  (connaturales}. 
The  angelic  intelligence  (potentia  intellectivd)  is  completed 
through  general  concepts,  of  the  same  nature  with  itself 
(species  intelligibiles  connaturales].  These  come  to  angels 
from  God  at  the  same  time  with  their  being.  Such  concepts 
or  ideas  cover  everything  that  they  can  know  by  nature 
(naturaliter).  And  Thomas  proves  that  the  higher  angels 
know  through  fewer  and  more  universal  concepts  than  the 
lower. 


CHAP.   XL 


AQUINAS  46i 


"In  God  an  entire  plenitude  of  intellectual  cognition  is  held 
in  one,  to  wit,  in  the  divine  essence  through  which  God  knows 
all  things.  Intelligent  creatures  possess  such  cognition  in  inferior 
mode  and  less  simply.  What  God  knows  through  one,  inferior 
intelligences  know  through  many ;  and  this  many  becomes  more  as 
the  inferiority  increases.  Hence  the  higher  angel  may  know  the 
sum  total  of  the  intelligible  (universitatem  intelligibilium)  through 
fewer  ideas  or  concepts  (species) ;  which,  however,  are  more 
universal  since  each  concept  extends  to  more  [things].  We  find 
illustration  of  this  among  our  fellows.  Some  are  incapable  of 
grasping  intelligible  truth,  unless  it  be  set  forth  through  particular 
examples.  This  comes  from  the  weakness  of  their  intelligence. 
But  others,  of  stronger  mind,  can  seize  many  things  from  a  few 
statements  "  (Qu.  Iv.  Art.  3). 

Through  this  argument,  and  throughout  the  rest  of  his 
exposition  of  the  knowledge  of  God,  angel,  and  man,  we 
perceive  that,  with  Thomas,  knowledge  is  superior  and 
more  delightful,  as  it  is  abstract  in  character,  and  universal 
in  applicability.  By  knowing  the  abstract  and  the  uni- 
versal we  become  like  to  God  and  the  angels ;  knowledge 
of  and  through  the  particular  is  but  a  necessity  of  our  half- 
material  nature. 

Thomas  turns  now  to  consider  the  knowledge  had  by 
angels  of  immaterial  beings,  i.e.  themselves  and  God  (Qu. 
Ivi.) :  "  An  angel,  being  immaterial,  is  a  subsisting  form, 
and  therefore  intelligible  actually  (actu,  i.e.  not  potentially). 
Wherefore,  through  its  form,  which  is  its  substance,  it  knows 
itself."  Then  as  to  knowledge  of  each  other  :  God  from  the 
beginning  impressed  upon  the  angelic  mind  the  likenesses  of 
things  which  He  created.  For  in  Him,  from  the  beginning, 
were  the  rationes  of  all  things,  both  spiritual  and  corporeal. 
Through  the  impression  of  these  rationes  upon  the  angelic 
mind,  an  angel  knows  other  angels  as  well  as  corporeal 
creatures.  Their  natures  also  yield  them  some  knowledge 
of  God.  The  angelic  nature  is  a  mirror  holding  the  divine 
similitude.  Yet  without  the  illumination  of  grace  the  angelic 
nature  knows  not  God  in  His  essence,  because  no  created 
likeness  may  represent  that. 

As  for  material  things  (Qu.  Ivii.),  angels  have  know- 
ledge of  them  through  the  intelligible  species  or  concepts 
impressed  by  God  on  the  angelic  mind.  But  do  they  know 


462  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

particulars — singulariat  To  deny  it,  says  Thomas,  would 
detract  from  the  faith  which  accords  to  angels  the  ministra- 
tion of  affairs.  This  matter  may  be  thought  thus  : 

"  Things  flow  forth  from  God  both  as  they  subsist  in  their  own 
natures  and  as  they  are  in  the  angelic  cognition.  Evidently  what 
flowed  from  God  in  things  pertained  not  only  to  their  universal 
nature,  but  to  their  principles  of  individuation.  .  .  .  And  as  He 
causes,  so  He  also  knows.  .  .  .  Likewise  the  angel,  through  the 
concepts  (species)  planted  in  him  by  God,  knows  things  not  only 
according  to  their  universal  nature,  but  also  according  to  their 
singularity,  in  so  far  as  they  are  manifold  representations  of  the  one 
and  simple  essence." 

One  observes  that  the  whole  scholastic  discussion  of  universals 
lies  back  of  arguments  like  these. 

The  main  principles  of  angelic  knowledge  have  now 
been  set  forth  ;  and  Thomas  pauses  to  point  out  to  what 
.extent  the  angels  know  the  future,  the  secret  thoughts  of  our 
hearts,  and  the  mysteries  of  grace.  He  has  still  to  consider 
the  mode  and  measure  of  the  angelic  knowledge  from  other 
points  of  view.  Whatever  the  angels  may  know  through 
their  implanted  natures,  they  know  perfectly  (actu}  ;  but  it 
may  be  otherwise  as  to  what  is  divinely  revealed  to  them. 
What  they  know,  they  know  without  the  need  of  argument 
And  the  discussion  closes  with  remarks  on  Augustine's 
phrase  and  conception  of  the  matutina  and  vespertina  know- 
ledge of  angels :  the  former  being  the  knowledge  of  things 
as  they  are  in  the  Word  ;  the  latter  being  the  knowledge  of 
things  as  they  are  in  their  own  natures.1 


That  the  abstract  and  the  universal  is  the  noble  and 
delectable,  we  learn  from  this  exposition  of  angelic  knowledge. 
We  may  learn  the  same  from  Thomas's  presentation  of  the 
modes  and  contents  of  human  understanding.  The  Summa 
theologiae  follows  the  Scriptural  order  of  presentation ; 2 

1  All  that  has  been  given  concerning  the  knowledge  of  angels  relates  to 
what  they  know  through  their  own  natures  as  created.  Further  enlightenment 
(as  with  men)  comes  through  grace  as  soon  as  they  become  beati  through  turning 
to  good.  Pars  pritna,  Qu.  Ixii.  Art.  I  sqq. 

4  Ante,  Chapter  XXXV.,  i. 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  463 

which  is  doubtless  the  reason  why  Thomas,  instead  of  passing 
from  immaterial  creatures  to  the  partly  immaterial  creature 
man,  considers  first  the  creation  of  physical  things — the 
Scriptural  work  of  the  six  days.  After  this  he  takes  up 
the  last  act  of  the  Creation — man.  In  the  Summa  he 
considers  man  so  far  as  his  composite  nature  comes  within 
the  scope  of  theology.  Accordingly  the  principal  topic  is 
the  human  soul  (anima) ;  and  the  body  is  regarded  only  in 
relation  to  the  soul,  its  qualities  and  its  fate.  Thomas  will 
follow  Dionysius  (Pseudo-Areopagite)  in  considering  first 
the  nature  (essentid)  of  the  soul,  then  its  faculties  (virtus 
sive  potentiae),  and  thirdly,  its  mode  of  action  (operatic). 

Under  the  first  head  he  argues  (Pars  prima,  Qu.  Ixxv.) 
that  the  soul,  which  is  the  primum  principium  of  life,  is 
not  body,  but  the  body's  consummation  (actus)  and  forma. 
Further,  inasmuch  as  the  soul  is  the  principium  of  mental 
action,  it  must  be  an  incorporeal  principle  existing  by  itself. 
It  cannot  properly  be  said  to  be  the  man  ;  for  man  is  not 
soul  alone,  but  a  composite  of  soul  and  body.  But  the  soul, 
being  immaterial  and  intellectual,  is  not  a  composite  of  form 
and  matter.  It  is  not  subject  to  corruption.  Concerning  its 
union  with  the  body  (Qu.  Ixxvi.),  "  it  is  necessary  to  say 
that  the  mind  (intellectus),  which  is  the  principle  of  intellectual 
action,  is  the  form  (forma)  of  the  human  body."  One  and 
the  same  intellectual  principle  does  not  pertain  to  all  human 
bodies  :  there  is  no  common  human  soul,  but  as  many  souls 
as  there  are  men.1  Yet  no  man  has  a  plurality  of  souls. 
"If  indeed  the  anima  intellectiva  were  not  united  to  the 
body  as  form,  but  only  as  motor  (as  the  Platonists  affirm), 
it  would  be  necessary  to  find  in  man  another  substantial 
form,  through  which  the  body  should  be  set  in  its  being. 
But  if,  as  we  have  shown,  the  soul  is  united  to  the  body  as 
substantial  form,  there  cannot  be  another  substantial  form 
beside  it"  (Qu.  Ixxvi.  Art.  4).  The  human  soul  is  fitly 
joined  to  its  body  ;  for  it  holds  the  lowest  grade  among 
intellectual  substances,  having  no  knowledge  of  truth  im- 
planted in  it,  as  the  angels  have ;  it  has  to  gather  know- 
ledge per  viam  sensus.  "  But  nature  never  omits  what  is 
necessary.  Hence  the  anima  intellectiva  must  have  not  only 
1  A  burning  controversy  between  the  Averroists  and  the  orthodox  schoolmen. 


464  THE    MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vi> 

the  faculty  of  knowing,  but  the  faculty  of  feeling  (sentiendf). 
Sense-action  can  take  place  only  through  a  corporeal  instru- 
ment Therefore  the  aninta  intellectiva  ought  to  be  united 
to  such  a  body,  which  should  be  to  it  a  convenient  organ 
of  sense"  (Art.  5).  Moreover,  "since  the  soul  is  united  ta 
the  body  as  form,  it  is  altogether  in  any  and  every  part  of 
the  body"  (Art.  8). 

It  is  a  cardinal  point  (Qu.  Ixxvii.)  with  Thomas  that 
the  soul's  essentia  is  not  \\spotentia:  the  soul  is  not  its  faculties. 
That  is  true  only  of  God.  In  Him  there  is  no  diversity. 
There  is  some  diversity  of  faculty  in  an  angel  ;  and  more 
in  man,  a  creature  on  the  confines  of  the  corporeal  and 
spiritual  creation,  in  whom  concur  the  powers  of  both. 
There  is  order  and  priority  among  the  powers  of  the  soul : 
the  potentiae  intellectivae  are  higher  than  the  potentiae 
sensitivae,  and  control  them  ;  while  the  latter  are  above  the 
potentiae  nutritivae.  Yet  the  order  of  their  generation  is- 
the  reverse.  The  highest  of  the  sensitive  faculties  is  sight. 
The  anima  is  the  subject  in  which  are  the  powers  of  know- 
ing and  willing  (potentiae  intellectivae}  ;  but  the  subject  in 
which  are  the  powers  of  sensation  is  the  combination  of  the 
soul  and  body.  All  the  powers  of  the  soul,  whether  the 
subject  be  soul  alone  or  soul  and  body,  flow  from  the  essence 
of  the  soul,  as  from  a  source  (principium). 

Thomas  follows  (Qu.  Ixxviii.)  Aristotle  in  dividing  the 
powers  of  the  soul  into  vegetative,  sensitive,  appetitive,  motor, 
and  intellectual.  In  taking  up  the  last,  he  points  out  (Qu< 
Ixxix.)  that  intelligence  (intellectus)  is  a  power  of  the  soul, 
and  not  the  soul  itself.  He  then  follows  the  Philosopher  in 
showing  how  intelligence  (intelligere)  is  to  be  regarded  as  a 
passive  power,  and  he  presents  the  difficult  Aristotelian  device 
of  the  intellectus  agens,  and  argues  that  memory  and  reason 
are  not  to  be  regarded  as  powers  distinct  from  the  intelli- 
gence (intellectus}. 

How  does  the  soul,  while  united  to  the  body  (the  anima 
conjuncta},  ( I )  know  corporeal  things  which  are  beneath  it  ? 
(2)  how  does  it  know  itself  and  what  is  in  itself?  and  (3) 
how  does  it  know  immaterial  substances  which  are  above 
it  ?  The  exposition  of  these  problems  is  introduced  by  (Qu, 
Ixxxiv.)  a  historical  discussion  of  the  primi  philosopki  who 


CHAP.  XL 


AQUINAS  465 


thought  there  was  nothing  but  body  in  the  world.  Then 
came  Plato,  seeking  "  to  save  some  certain  cognition  of 
truth  "  by  means  of  his  theory  of  Ideas.  But  Plato  seems 
to  have  erred  in  thinking  that  the  form  of  the  known  must 
be  in  the  knower  as  it  is  -in  the  known.  This  is  not 
necessary.  In  sense-perception  the  form  of  the  thing  is 
not  in  sense  as  it  is  in  the  thing.  "  And  likewise  the  intelli- 
gence receives  the  species  (Ideas)  of  material  and  mobile 
bodies  immaterially  and  immutably,  after  its  own  mode ; 
for  the  received  is  in  the  recipient  after  the  mode  of  the 
recipient.  Hence  it  is  to  be  held  that  the  soul  through  the 
intelligence  knows  bodies  by  immaterial,  universal,  and 
necessary  cognition." 

Thomas  sets  this  matter  forth  in  a  manner  very  illuminat- 
ing as  to  his  general  position  regarding  knowledge  : 

"  It  follows  that  material  things  which  are  known  must  exist  in 
the  knower,  not  materially,  but  immaterially.  And  the  reason  of 
this  is  that  the  act  of  cognition  extends  itself  to  those  things  which 
are  outside  of  the  knower.  For  we  know  things  outside  of  us. 
But  through  matter,  the  form  of  the  thing  is  limited  to  what  is 
single  (aliquid  unutri}.  Hence  it  is  plain  that  the  ratio  (proper 
nature)  of  cognition  is  the  opposite  of  the  ratio  of  materiality.  And 
therefore  things,  like  plants,  which  receive  forms  only  materially,  are 
in  no  way  cognoscitivae,  as  is  said  in  the  second  book  of  De  anima. 
The  more  immaterially  anything  possesses  the  form  of  the  thing 
known,  the  more  perfectly  it  knows.  Wherefore  the  intelligence, 
which  abstracts  the  species  (Idea)  not  only  from  matter,  but  also 
from  individualizing  material  conditions,  knows  more  perfectly  than 
sense,  which  receives  the  form  of  the  thing  known  without  matter 
indeed,  but  with  material  conditions.  Among  the  senses  them- 
selves, sight  is  the  most  cognoscitivus,  because  least  material.  And 
among  intelligences,  that  is  the  more  perfect  which  is  the  more 
immaterial "  (Qu.  Ixxxiv.  Art.  2). 

Then  Thomas  again  differs  from  Plato,  and  holds  with 
Aristotle,  that  the  intelligence  through  which  the  soul  knows 
has  not  its  ideas  written  upon  it  by  nature,  but  from  the  first 
is  capable  of  receiving  them  all  (sed  est  in  principio  in 
potentia  ad  hujusmodi  species  omnes).  Hereupon,  and  with 
further  arguments,  Thomas  shows  "that  the  species  intelli- 
gibiles,  by  which  our  soul  knows,  do  not  arise  from  separate 
forms  "  or  ideas. 

VOL.  II  2  H 


466  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

To  the  converse  question,  whether  intelligent  cognition 
comes  from  things  of  sense,  Thomas  answers,  following 
Aristotle :  "  One  cannot  say  that  sense  perception  is  the 
whole  cause  of  intellectual  cognition,  but  rather  in  a  certain 
way  is  the  matter  of  the  cause  (materia  causae)"  On  the 
other  hand, 

"  it  is  impossible  that  the  mind,  in  the  state  of  the  present  life,  wherein 
it  is  joined  to  the  passive  body  (passibitt  corpori),  should  know 
anything  actually  (actu)  except  by  turning  itself  to  images  (pkanta- 
smata).  And  this  appears  from  two  arguments.  In  the  first  place, 
since  the  mind  itself  is  a  power  (vis)  using  no  bodily  organ,  its 
action  would  not  be  interrupted  by  an  injury  to  any  bodily  organ,  if 
for  its  action  there  was  not  needed  the  action  of  some  faculty  using 
a  bodily  organ.  Sense  and  imagination  use  a  bodily  organ.  Hence 
as  to  what  the  mind  knows  actually  (actu\  there  is  needed  the  action 
of  the  imagination  and  other  faculties,  both  in  receiving  new  know- 
ledge and  in  using  knowledge  already  acquired.  For  we  see  that 
when  the  action  of  the  imaginative  faculty  is  interrupted  by  injury 
to  an  organ,  as  with  the  delirious,  the  man  is  prevented  from 
actually  knowing  those  things  of  which  he  has  knowledge.  Secondly 
(as  any  one  may  observe  in  himself),  whenever  he  attempts  to  know 
(intelligere)  anything,  he  forms  images  by  way  of  example,  in  which 
he  may  contemplate  what  he  is  trying  to  know.  And  whenever  we 
wish  to  make  any  one  else  understand,  we  suggest  examples,  from 
which  he  may  make  for  himself  images  to  know  by. 

"  The  reason  of  this  is  that  the  knowing  faculty  is  suited  to  the 
knowable  {potentia  cognoscitiva  proportionatur  cognosribilt).  The 
appropriate  object  of  the  intelligence  of  an  angel,  who  is  separate 
from  all  body,  is  intelligible  immaterial  substance  (substantia  intclli- 
gibilis  a  corpore  separata)  ;  through  this  kind  of  intelligible  he 
cognizes  also  material  things.  But  the  appropriate  object  of  the 
human  mind,  which  is  joined  to  a  body,  is  the  essence  or  nature 
(ffuidditas  sive  naturd)  existing  in  material  body ;  and  through  the 
natures  of  visible  things  of  this  sort  it  ascends  to  some  cognition  of 
invisible  things.  It  belongs  to  the  idea  (ratio]  of  this  nature  that  it 
should  exist  in  some  individual  having  corporeal  matter,  as  it  is  of 
the  concept  (ratio)  of  the  nature  of  stone  or  horse  that  it  should 
be  in  this  stone  or  this  horse.  Hence  the  nature  of  a  stone  or  any 
material  thing  cannot  be  known  completely  and  truly,  unless  it  is 
known  as  existing  in  some  particular  [instance].  We  apprehend  the 
particular  through  sense  and  imagination ;  and  so  it  is  necessary, 
in  order  that  the  mind  should  know  its  appropriate  object,  that  it 
should  turn  itself  to  images,  in  order  to  behold  the  universal  nature 
existing  in  the  particular.  If,  indeed,  the  appropriate  object  of  our 
intelligence  were  the  separate  form,  or  if  the  form  of  sensible  things 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  467 

did  not  subsist  in  the  particular  [instances],  as  the  Platonists  say,  our 
mind  in  knowing  would  have  no  need  always  to  turn  itself  to 
images '  (Qu.  Ixxxiv.  Art.  7). 

It  is  next  queried  whether  the  judgment  of  the  mind  is 
impeded  through  binding  (per  liganientuni)  the  senses.  In 
view  of  the  preceding  argument  the  answer  is,  that  since  "  all 
that  we  know  in  our  present  state,  becomes  known  to  us 
through  comparison  with  sensible  things,  it  is  impossible  that 
there  should  be  in  us  perfect  mental  judgment  when  the 
senses  are  tied,  through  which  we  take  cognizance  of  sensible 
things  "  (Qu.  Ixxxiv.  Art  8). 

This  entire  argument  shows  in  what  firm  Aristotelian 
manner,  scholasticism,  in  the  person  of  Thomas,  set  itself 
upon  a  basis  of  sense  perception  ;  through  which  it  still 
pressed  to  a  knowledge  of  the  supersensible  and  abstract. 
In  this  argument  we  also  see,  as  always  with  Thomas,  that 
knowledge  is  perfect  and  blessed,  the  more  immaterial  and 
abstract  are  its  modes.  All  of  which  will  continue  to  impress 
us  as  we  follow  Thomas,  briefly,  through  his  exposition  of 
the  modus  and  ordo  of  knowing  (intelligendf)  (Qu.  Ixxxv.). 

The  first  question  is  whether  our  mind  knows  corporeal 
things  by  abstracting  the  species  from  the  images — the  type 
from  the  particular.  There  are  three  grades  of  the  cognizing 
faculty  (yirtutis  cognoscitivae).  The  lowest  is  sensation, 
which  is  the  act  of  a  bodily  organ.  Its  appropriate  object  is 
form  as  existing  in  matter.  And  since  matter  is  the  principle  of 
individuation  (i.e.  the  particularizing  principle  from  which 
results  the  particular  or  individual),  sense  perception  is  confined 
to  the  particular.  The  highest  grade  of  the  cognitient  faculty 
is  that  which  is  independent  of  bodily  organs  and  separate 
from  matter,  as  the  angelic  intelligence  ;  and  its  object  is 
form  subsisting  without  matter.  For  though  angels  know 
material  things,  they  view  them  only  in  the  immaterial,  to 
wit,  themselves  or  God.  Between  the  two  is  the  human 
mind,  which 

"is  the  forma  of  the  body.  So  it  naturally  knows  form  existing 
individually  in  corporeal  matter,  and  yet  not  as  form  is  in  such 
matter.  But  to  know  form,  which  is  in  concrete  matter,  and  yet 
know  it  not  as  it  is  in  such  matter,  is  to  abstract  it  from  this 
particular  matter  which  the  images  represent.  It  follows  that  our 


468  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

intelligence  knows  material  things  by  abstracting  them  from  images ; 
and  through  reflecting  on  these  material  abstractions  we  reach  some 
cognition  of  the  immaterial,  just  as  conversely  the  angels  know  the 
material  through  the  immaterial"  (Qu.  Ixxxv.  Art  i). 

It  is  next  proved  that  the  soul,  through  the  intelligible 
species  or  forms  abstracted  from  particulars,  knows  things 
which  are  outside  the  soul.  In  a  way,  intellection  arises 
from  sense  perception  ;  therefore  the  sense  perception  of  the 
particular  precedes  the  intellectual  knowledge  of  universals. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  intelligence,  in  coming  to  perfect 
cognition,  proceeds  from  the  undistinguished  to  the  dis- 
tinguished, from  the  more  to  the  less  general,  and  so  knows 
animal  before  it  knows  homo,  and  homo  before  it  knows 
Socrates.  The  next  conclusion  reads  very  neatly  in  scholastic 
Latin,  but  is  difficult  to  paraphrase  :  it  is  that  the  intelligence 
may  know  many  things  at  once  (simul}  per  modum  untus, 
but  not  per  modum  multorum  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  mind  may 
grasp  at  once  whatever  it  may  grasp  under  one  species,  but 
cannot  know  a  number  of  things  at  once  which  fall  under 
different  species. 

Next  as  to  what  our  mind  knows  in  material  things  (Qu. 
Ixxxvi.).  It  does  not  know  the  particular  or  singular 
(singularid)  in  them  directly ;  for  the  principle  of  singularity 
in  material  things  is  the  particular  matter.  But  our  mind  knows 
by  abstracting  from  such  the  species,  that  is,  the  universal. 
This  it  knows  directly.  But  it  knows  singularia  indirectly, 
inasmuch  as,  when  it  has  abstracted  the  intelligible  species,  it 
must  still,  in  order  to  know  completely  (actu)t  turn  itself  to 
the  images  in  which  it  knows  the  species. 

How  does  the  anima  intellectiva  know  itself,and  those  things 
which  are  in  it  (Qu.  Ixxxvii.)  ?  Everything  is  knowable  in 
so  far  as  it  is  actually  (in  actu]  and  not  merely  potentially. 
So  the  human  intelligence  knows  itself  not  through  its  essence, 
which  is  still  but  potential,  but  in  so  far  as  it  has  actually 
realized  itself ;  knows  itself,  that  is,  through  its  actuality. 
The  permanent  qualities  (habitus}  of  the  soul  exist  in  a  con- 
dition between  potentiality  and  actuality.  The  mind  knows 
them  when  they  are  actually  present  or  operative. 

Does  the  human  intelligence  know  its  own  act — know 
that  it  knows  ?  In  God,  knowing  and  being  are  one. 


CHAP.   XL 


AQUINAS  469 


Although  this  is  not  true  of  the  angelic  intelligence,  never- 
theless with  an  angel  the  prime  object  of  knowledge  is  his 
own  essence.  With  one  and  the  same  act  an  angel  knows 
that  it  knows,  and  knows  its  essence.  But  the  primal  object 
of  the  human  intelligence  is  neither  its  knowledge  (knowing, 
intelligere)  nor  its  essence,  but  something  extrinsic,  to  wit,  the 
nature  of  the  material  thing.  Hence  that  is  the  first  object 
known  by  the  human  intelligence  ;  and  next  is  known  its 
own  actus,  by  which  that  first  object  is  known.  Likewise  the 
human  intelligence  knows  the  acts  of  will.  An  act  of  will  is 
nothing  but  a  certain  inclination  toward  some  form  of  the 
mind  (formam  intellectam}  as  natural  appetite  is  an  inclina- 
tion toward  a  natural  form.  The  act  of  will  is  in  the  knowing 
mind  and  so  is  known  by  it. 

So  far  as  to  how  the  soul  knows  material  things,  which 
are  below  it,  and  its  own  nature  and  qualities.  It  is  another 
question  whether  the  soul  knows  those  things  which  are  above 
it,  to  wit,  the  immaterial  substances.  Can  the  soul  in  the 
state  of  the  present  life  know  the  angels  in  themselves  ? 
With  lengthy  argument,  differing  from  Plato  and  adhering 
to  Aristotle,  Thomas  proves  the  negative :  that  in  the 
present  life  we  cannot  know  substantias  separatas  tnt- 
materiales  secundum  seipsas.  Nor  can  we  come  to  a  know- 
ledge of  the  angelic  substances  through  knowing  material 
things. 

"For  immaterial  substances  are  altogether  of  another  nature 
(ratio]  from  the  whatnesses  (guidditates)  of  material  things ;  and 
however  much  our  intelligence  abstracts  from  matter  the  essence 
(guidditas)  of  the  material  thing,  it  will  never  arrive  at  anything  like 
an  immaterial  substance.  And  so,  through  material  substances, 
we  cannot  know  immaterial  substances  perfectly "  (Qu.  Ixxxviii. 
Art.  2). 

Much  less  can  we  thus  know  God. 

The  discussion  hitherto  has  been  confined  to  the  intel- 
lectual capacities  of  souls  united  to  their  bodies.  As  to  the 
knowledge  which  the  "  separated "  soul  may  have,  other 
considerations  arise  akin  to  those  touching  the  knowledge 
possessed  by  the  separated  substances  called  angels.  Is  the 
separated  soul  able  to  know?  Thomas  has  shown  that  so 
long  as  the  soul  is  joined  to  the  body  it  cannot  know  any- 


470  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

thing  except  by  turning  itself  to  images.  If  this  were  a 
mere  accident  of  the  soul,  incidental  to  its  existence  in  the 
body,  then  with  that  impediment  removed,  it  would  return  to 
its  own  nature  and  know  simply.  But  if,  as  we  suppose,  this 
turning  to  images  is  of  the  nature  of  the  soul,  the  difficulty 
grows.  Yet  the  soul  has  one  mode  of  existence  when  united 
to  the  body,  and  another  when  separated,  but  with  its  nature 
remaining.  Souls  united  to  bodies  may  know  through  resort 
to  images  of  bodies,  which  are  in  the  bodily  organs  ;  but 
when  separated,  they  may  know  by  turning  to  that  which  is 
intelligible  simply,  as  other  separate  substances  do.  Yet 
still  this  raises  doubt ;  for  why  did  not  God  appoint  a  nobler 
way  for  the  soul  to  know  than  that  which  is  natural  to  it 
when  joined  to  the  body  ?  The  perfection  of  the  universe 
required  that  there  should  be  diverse  grades  among  intel- 
lectual substances.  The  soul  is  the  lowest  of  them.  Its 
feeble  intelligence  was  not  fit  to  receive  perfect  knowledge 
through  universal  conceptions,  save  when  assisted  by  concrete 
examples.  Without  these,  souls  would  have  had  but  a  con- 
fused knowledge.  Hence,  for  their  more  perfect  knowledge 
of  things,  they  are  naturally  united  to  bodies,  and  so  receive 
a  knowledge  from  things  of  sense  proper  to  their  condition  ; 
just  as  rude  men  can  be  led  to  know  only  through  examples. 
So  it  was  for  a  higher  end  that  the  soul  was  united  to  the 
body,  and  knows  through  resort  to  images  ;  yet,  when 
separated,  it  will  be  capable  of  another  way  of  knowing.1 

Separated  from  the  body,  the  soul  can  know  itself  through 
itself.  It  can  know  other  separated  souls  perfectly,  but  the 
angels,  who  are  higher  natures,  only  imperfectly,  at  least 
through  the  knowledge  which  the  separated  soul  has  from 
its  nature  ;  but  that  may  be  increased  through  grace  and 
glory.  The  separated  soul  will  know  natural  objects  through 
the  species  (ideas)  received  from  the  inflowing  divine  light  ; 
yet  less  perfectly  than  the  angels.  Likewise,  less  universally 
than  angels,  will  separated  souls,  by  like  means  of  species 
received  from  the  divine  light,  know  particular  things,  and 
only  such  as  they  previously  knew,  or  may  know  through 
some  affection  or  aptitude  or  the  divine  decree.  For  the 
habit  and  aptitude  of  knowledge,  and  the  knowledge  already 
1  This  is  the  substance  of  Qu.  Ixxxix.  Art.  I . 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  471 

acquired,  will  remain  in  the  separated  soul,  so  far  as  relates 
to  the  knowledge  which  is  in  the  intellect,  and  no  longer  in 
the  lower  perceptive  faculties.  Neither  will  distance  from 
the  object  affect  the  soul's  knowledge,  since  it  will  know 
through  the  influx  of  forms  (species}  from  the  divine  light. 

"  Yet  through  the  cognition  belonging  to  their  nature,  separated 
souls  do  not  know  what  is  doing  here  below.  For  such  souls  know 
the  particular  and  concrete  (singularia}  only  as  from  the  traces 
(vestigia)  of  previous  cognition  or  affection,  or  by  divine  appoint- 
ment. And  the  souls  of  the  dead  by  divine  decree,  and  in  accordance 
with  their  mode  of  existence,  are  separated  from  the  intercourse  of 
the  living  and  joined  to  the  society  of  spiritual  substances.  There- 
fore they  are  ignorant  of  those  things  which  are  done  among  us." 

Nevertheless,  it  would  seem,  according  to  the  opinions  of 
Augustine  and  Gregory,  "  that  the  souls  of  the  saints  who  see 
God  know  all  that  is  done  here.  Yet,  perfectly  joined  to  the 
divine  righteousness,  they  are  not  grieved,  nor  do  they  take 
part  in  the  affairs  of  the  living,  save  as  the  divine  disposition 
requires." 

"  Still  the  souls  of  the  dead  are  able  to  care  for  the  affairs  of  the 
living,  although  ignorant  of  their  condition ;  just  as  we  have  care 
for  the  dead,  though  ignorant  of  their  state,  by  invoking  the  suffrages 
of  the  Church.  And  the  souls  of  the  dead  may  be  informed  of  the 
affairs  of  the  living  from  souls  lately  departed  hence,  or  through 
angels  or  demons,  or  by  the  revealing  spirit  of  God.  But  if  the 
dead  appear  to  the  living,  it  is  by  God's  special  dispensation,  and  to 
be  reckoned  as  a  divine  miracle  "  (Qu.  Ixxxix.  Art  8). 


VI 

We  have  thus  traced  Thomas's  view  of  the  faculty  of 
knowledge,  the  primary  constituent  of  beatitude  in  God,  and 
in  angels  and  men.  There  are  other  elements  which  not 
only  supplement  the  faculty  of  knowledge,  but  even  flow  as 
of  necessity  from  a  full  and  true  conception  of  that  faculty 
and  its  perfect  energizing.  These  needful,  yet  supplementary, 
factors  are  the  faculties  of  will  and  love  and  natural  appetite  ; 
though  the  last  does  not  exist  in  God  or  angel  or  in 
"  separated  soul."  The  composite  creature  man  shares  it 
with  brutes :  it  is  of  enormous  importance,  since  it  may 


472  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

affect  his  spiritual  progress  in  this  life,  and  so  determine 
his  state  after  death.  Let  us  observe  these  qualities  in 
God,  in  the  immaterial  substances  called  angels,  and  in 
man. 

In  God  there  is  volition  as  well  as  intelligence ;  for 
voluntas  intellectum  consequitur ;  and  as  God's  being  (esse) 
is  His  knowing  (intelligere\  so  likewise  His  being  is  His  will 
(yelle)}  Essentially  alike  in  God  and  man  and  angel  are 
the  constituents  of  spiritual  beatitude  and  existence — 
knowing,  willing,  loving.  From  Creator  down  to  man, 
knowledge  differs  in  mode  and  in  degree,  yet  is  essentially 
the  same.  The  like  is  true  of  will.  As  to  love,  because 
passion  is  of  the  body,  love  and  every  mode  of  turning 
from  or  to  an  object  is  passionless  in  God  and  the  angels. 
Yet  man  through  love,  as  well  as  through  willing  and  through 
knowing,  may  prove  his  kinship  with  angels  and  with  God. 

God  is  love,  says  John's  Epistle.  "  It  is  necessary  to 
place  love  in  God,"  says  Thomas.  "  For  the  first  movement 
of  will  and  any  appetitive  faculty  (appetitivae  virtutis)  is 
love  (amor}"  It  is  objected  that  love  is  a  passion  ;  and 
the  passionless  God  cannot  love.  Answers  Thomas,  "  Love 
and  joy  and  delight  are  passions  in  so  far  as  they  signify 
acts  (or  actualities,  actus)  of  the  appetitus  sensitivi ;  but 
they  are  not  passions  when  they  signify  the  actus  of  the 
appetitus  intellectivi ;  and  thus  are  they  placed  in  God " 
(Pars prima,  Qu.  xx.  Art.  i). 

God  loves  all  existences.  Now  all  existences,  in  so  far 
as  they  are,  are  good.  For  being  itself  (esse)  is  in  a  sense 
the  good  of  any  thing,  and  likewise  its  perfection.  It  has 
been  shown  that  God's  will  is  the  cause  of  all  things  ;  and 
thus  it  is  proper  that  a  thing  should  have  being,  or  good, 
in  so  far  as  it  is  willed  by  God.  God  wills  some  good  to 
every  existent  thing.  And  since  to  love  is  nothing  else 
than  to  will  good  to  something,  it  is  evident  that  God  loves 
all  things  that  are,  yet  not  in  the  way  we  love.  For  since 
our  will  is  not  the  cause  of  the  goodness  of  things,  but  is 
moved  by  it  as  by  an  object,  our  love  by  which  we  will 
good  to  anything  is  not  the  cause  of  its  goodness  ;  but  its 
goodness  calls  forth  the  love  by  which  we  wish  to  preserve 

1  Pars prima,  Qu'.  xix.  ArU  I. 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  473 

and  add  to  the  good  it  has  ;  and  for  this  we  work.  But 
God's  love  imparts  and  creates  goodness  in  things. 

The  divine  love  embraces  all  things  in  one  and  the 
same  act  of  will  ;  but  inasmuch  as  His  love  creates  good- 
ness, there  could  be  no  greater  goodness  in  one  thing  than 
in  another  unless  He  willed  greater  good  to  one  than  to 
the  other :  in  this  sense  He  may  be  said  to  love  one 
creature  more  than  another ;  and  in  this  way  He  loves 
the  better  things  more.  Besides  love,  the  order  of  the 
universe  proves  God's  justitia ;  an  attribute  which  is  to 
be  ascribed  to  Him,  as  Dionysius  says,  in  that  He  grants 
to  all  things  what  is  appropriate,  according  to  the  dignity 
of  the  existence  of  each,  and  preserves  the  nature  of  each 
in  its  own  order  and  virtue.  Likewise  misericordia  is  to 
be  ascribed  to  God,  not  as  if  He  were  affected  by  pitying 
sadness,  but  in  that  He  remedies  the  misery  or  defects  of 
others. 

Thus  far  as  to  will  and  love  in  God.  Next,  as  to  these 
qualities  in  Angels.  Have  angels  will  ?  (Pars  printa,  Qu.  lix.). 
Thomas  argues :  All  things  proceed  from  the  divine  will, 
and  all  per  appetitum  incline  toward  good.  In  plants  this 
is  called  natural  appetite.  Next  above  them  come  those 
creatures  who  perceive  the  particular  good  as  of  the  senses  ; 
their  inclination  toward  it  is  appetitus  sensitivus.  Still 
above  them  are  such  as  know  the  ratio  of  the  good  uni- 
versally, through  their  intelligence.  Such  are  the  angels  ; 
and  in  them  inclination  toward  the  good  is  will.  Moreover, 
since  they  know  the  nature  of  the  good,  they  are  able  to 
form  a  judgment  as  to  it ;  and  so  they  have  free  will : 
ubicumque  est  intellectus,  est  liberum  arbitrium.  And  as 
their  knowledge  is  above  that  of  men,  so  in  them  free  will 
exists  more  excellently. 

The  angels  have  only  the  appetitus  intellectivus  which  is 
will ;  they  are  not  irascible  or  concupiscent,  since  these 
belong  to  the  appetitus  sensitivus.  Only  metaphorically  can 
furor  and  evil  concupiscence  be  ascribed  to  demons,  as  anger 
is  to  God — propter  similitudinem  effectus.  Consequently 
amor  and  gaudium  do  not  exist  as  passions  in  angels.  But 
in  so  far  as  these  qualities  signify  solely  an  act  of  will, 
they  are  intellectual.  In  this  sense,  to  love  is  to  will  good 


474  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  VH 

to  anything,  and  to  rejoice  (gaudere)  is  to  rest  the  will  in  a 
good  obtained.  Similarly,  caritas  and  spes,  in  so  far  as  they 
are  virtues,  lie  not  in  appetite,  but  in  will  ;  and  thus  exist  in 
angels.  With  man  the  virtues  of  temperance  and  fortitude 
may  relate  to  things  of  sense ;  but  not  so  with  angels, 
who  have  no  passions  to  be  bridled  by  these  virtues. 
Temperance  is  ascribed  to  them  when  they  temper  their 
will  according  to  the  will  divine,  and  fortitude,  when  they 
firmly  execute  it  (Qu.  lix.  Art.  4). 

In  a  subsequent  portion  of  Pars  prima  (Qu.  ex.) 
Thomas  has  occasion  to  point  out  that,  as  in  human  affairs, 
the  more  particular  power  is  governed  by  the  more  universal, 
so  among  the  angels. 

"The  higher  angels  who  preside  over  the  lower  have  more 
universal  knowledge.  It  is  likewise  clear  that  the  virtus  of  a  body 
is  more  particular  than  the  virtus  of  a  spiritual  substance ;  for 
every  corporeal  form  is  form  particularized  (individuate?)  through 
matter,  and  limited  to  the  here  and  now.  But  immaterial  forms 
are  unconditioned  and  intelligible.  And  as  the  lower  angels,  who 
have  forms  less  universal,  are  ruled  by  the  higher  angels,  so  all 
corporeal  things  are  ruled  by  angels.  And  this  is  maintained  not 
only  by  the  holy  Doctors,  but  by  all  philosophers  who  have 
recognized  incorporeal  substances." 

Next  Thomas  considers  the  action  of  angels  upon  men, 
and  shows  that  men  may  have  their  minds  illumined  by  the 
lower  orders  of  angels,  who  present  to  men  intelligibilem 
veritatem  sub  similitudinibus  sensibilium.  God  sends  the 
angels  to  minister  to  corporeal  creatures  ;  in  which  mission 
their  acts  proceed  from  God  as  a  cause  (principio).  They 
are  His  instruments.  They  are  sent  as  custodians  of  men, 
to  guide  and  move  them  to  good.  "  To  every  man  an 
angel  is  appointed  for  his  guard  :  of  which  the  reason  is, 
that  the  guardianship  (custodia)  of  the  angels  is  an  execution 
of  divine  providence  in  regard  to  men."  Every  man,  while 
as  viator  he  walks  life's  via  non  tuta,  has  his  guardian 
angel.  And  the  archangels  have  care  of  multitudes  of 
men  (Qu.  cxiii.). 

Thus  Thomas's,  or  rather,  say  the  Christian  doctrine  as 
to  angels,  becomes  a  corollary  necessary  to  Christian  theism, 
and  true  at  least  symbolically.  But — and  this  is  the  last 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  475 

point  as  to  these  ministering  spirits — do  the  angels  who  love 
without  passion,  grieve  and  suffer  when  those  over  whom 
they  minister  are  lost  ? 

"Angels  grieve  neither  over  the  sins  nor  the  punishment  of 
men.  For,  as  says  Augustine,  sadness  and  grief  arise  only  from 
what  contravenes  the  will.  But  nothing  happens  in  the  world  that 
is  contrary  to  the  will  of  the  angels  and  other  blessed  ones.  For 
their  will  is  entirely  fixed  (totaliter  inhaeret}  in  the  order  of  the 
divine  righteousness  (Justitiae) ;  and  nothing  takes  place  in  the 
world,  save  what  takes  place  and  is  permitted  by  the  same.  And 
so,  in  brief,  nothing  takes  place  in  the  world  contrary  to  the  will  of 
the  blessed  "  (Qu.  cxiii.  Art.  7). 

We  come  to  man.  He  has  will,  and  free  will  or  choice, 
as  the  angels  have.  Will  is  part  of  the  intellectual  nature  : 
it  is  as  the  intellectivus  appetitus.  But  man  differs  from  the 
angels  in  possessing  appetites  which  belong  to  his  sense- 
nature  and  do  not  perceive  the  good  in  its  common  aspects  ; 
because  sense  does  not  apprehend  the  universal,  but  only 
the  particular.1  Sometimes  Thomas  speaks  of  amor  as  in- 
cluding every  form  of  desire,  intellectual  or  pertaining  to 
the  world  of  sense.  "The  first  movement  of  will  and  of 
any  appetitive  faculty  (virtus)  is  amor." 2  So  in  this  most 
general  signification  amor  "  is  something  belonging  to 
appetite  ;  for  the  object  of  both  is  the  good." 

"  The  first  effect  of  the  desirable  (appetibilis)  upon  the  appetitus, 
is  called  amor ;  thence  follows  desiderium,  or  the  movement  toward 
the  desirable ;  and  at  last  the  quies  which  is  gaudium.  Since  then 
amor  consists  in  an  effect  upon  the  appetitus^  it  is  evidently  passio  \ 
most  properly  speaking  when  it  relates  to  the  yearning  element 
(concupiscibile),  but  less  properly  when  it  relates  to  will "  (Pars  prima, 
Qu.  xxvi.  Art.  2). 

Further  distinguishing  definitions  are  now  in  order : 

"  Four  names  are  applied  to  what  pertains  to  the  same  :  amor, 
dilectio,  caritas,  et  amiritia.  Of  the  three  first,  amor  has  the  broadest 
meaning.  For  all  dilectio  or  caritas  is  amor;  but  not  conversely. 
Dilectio  adds  to  amor  a  precedent  choice  (electionem  praecedentem) 
as  its  name  indicates.  Hence  dilectio  is  not  in  the  concupiscent 

1  Pars  frima,  Qu.  Ixxxii.  and  Ixxxiii. 
*  Pars  prima,  Qu.  xx.  i. 


476  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

nature,  but  in  the  will,  and  therefore  in  the  rational  nature.  Caritas 
adds  to  amor  a  certain  perfectionem  amoris,  inasmuch  as  what  is  loved, 
is  esteemed  as  very  precious,  as  the  name  shows  "  (Ibid.  Art.  3). 

Moreover,  amor  may  be  divided  into  amor  amicitiae>  whereby 
we  wish  good  to  the  amicus,  and  amor  concupiscentiae,  whereby 
properly  we  desire  a  good  to  ourselves. 

The  Good  is  the  object  and,  in  that  sense,  the  cause,  of 
amor  (Qu.  xxvii.). 

"But  love  requires  a  cognition  of  the  good  which  is  loved. 
Therefore  the  Philosopher  says,  that  bodily  sight  is  the  cause  of 
amoris  sensitivi.  Likewise  contemplation  of  spiritual  beauty  or 
goodness  is  the  cause  of  amoris  spiritualis.  Thus,  therefore,  cogni- 
tion is  the  cause  of  love,  inasmuch  as  the  good  cannot  be  loved 
unless  known." 

From  this  broad  conception  of  amor  the  argument  rises 
to  amor  in  its  purest  phases,  which  correspond  to  the  highest 
modes  of  knowledge  man  is  capable  of.  They  are  considered 
in  their  nature,  in  their  causes,  and  effects.  It  is  evident 
whither  we  are  travelling  in  this  matter. 

"  Love  (amor)  may  be  perfect  or  imperfect.  Perfect  love  is 
that  by  which  some  one  is  loved  for  himself,  as  a  man  loves  a  friend. 
Imperfect  love  is  that  by  which  some  one  loves  a  thing,  not  for 
itself,  but  in  order  that  that  good  may  come  to  him,  as  a  man  loves 
the  thing  he  desires.  The  first  love  pertains  to  caritas  which  cleaves 
to  God  (inhaeret  Deo)  for  Himself  (secundum  seipsum)" * 

Caritas  is  one  of  the  theological  virtues,  and  as  such 
Thomas  treats  it  To  it  corresponds  the  "  gift "  of  sapientia, 
likewise  a  virtue  bestowed  by  God,  but  more  particularly 
regarded  as  the  "  gift "  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Caritas  is  set 
not  in  the  appetitus  sensitivus,  but  in  the  will.  Yet  as  it 
exceeds  our  natural  faculties,  "it  is  not  in  us  by  nature, 
nor  acquired  through  our  natural  powers  ;  but  through  the 
infusion  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  who  is  the  amor  Patris  et  Filiir 
He  infuses  caritas  according  to  His  will ;  and  it  will  increase 
as  we  draw  near  to  God ;  nor  is  there  any  bound  to  its 
augmentation.  May  caritas  be  perfect  in  this  life?  In  one 
sense  it  never  can  be  perfect,  because  no  creature  ever  can 
love  God  according  to  His  infinite  lovableness. 

1  Sum  ma  theol.,  Pars  secunda  secundae,  Qu.  xvii.  Art    8. 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  477 

"But  on  the  part  of  him  who  wills  to  love  (ex parte  diligentis), 
caritas  is  perfect  when  he  loves  as  much  as  he  is  able.  Which  may 
be  taken  in  three  ways.  In  one  way,  as  the  whole  heart  of  man  is 
always  borne  toward  God ;  and  this  is  the  perfection  of  the  love 
of  home  (caritas  patriae\  unattainable  here,  where  because  of 
this  life's  infirmities  it  is  impossible  always  actually  to  think  upon 
God,  and  be  drawn  toward  Him  by  voluntary  love  (dilectione).  In 
another  way,  as  a  man  may  strive  to  keep  himself  free  for  God  and 
things  dirine,  laying  other  matters  aside,  save  as  life's  need  requires  : 
and  that  is  the  perfection  of  caritas,  possible  in  this  life,  yet  not  for 
all  who  have  caritas.  And  the  third  way,  when  any  one  habitually 
sets  his  heart  on  God,  so  that  he  thinks  and  wills  nothing  that  is 
contrary  to  the  divine  love :  this  perfection  is  common  to  all  who 
have  caritas."  x 

The  caritas  with  which  we  love  God,  extends  to  our 
neighbours,  and  even  to  our  enemies,  for  God's  sake ; 
also  to  ourselves,  including  our  bodies ;  it  embraces  sinners, 
but  not  their  sinfulness.  It  embraces  the  angels.  There  is 
order  and  grade  in  caritas^  according  to  its  relationship  to 
God,  the  source  of  beatitude  and  voluntary  love  (dilectionis). 
God  is  to  be  loved  ex  caritate  above  all ;  for  He  is  loved  as 
the  cause  of  beatitude,  while  our  neighbour  is  loved  as 
a  participant  with  us  in  the  beatitude  from  God.  We 
should  love  God  more  than  ourselves ;  because  beatitude 
is  in  God  as  in  the  common  and  fontal  source  of  all  things 
that  participate  in  beatitude. 

"But,  after  God,  man  should  love  himself,  in  so  far  as  he  is 
spirit  (secundum  naturam  spiritualem),  more  than  any  one  else. 
This  is  plain  from  the  very  reason  of  loving.  God  is  loved  as  the 
principle  of  good,  on  which  the  dilectio  caritatis  is  based.  Man 
loves  himself  ex  caritate  for  the  reason  that  he  is  a  participator 
in  that  good.  He  loves  his  neighbour  because  of  his  association 
(societas)  in  that  good.  .  .  .  Participation  in  the  divine  good  is  a 
stronger  reason  for  loving,  than  association  in  this  participation. 
Therefore,  man  ex  caritate  should  love  himself  more  than  his 
neighbour ;  and  the  mark  (signutn)  of  this  is,  that  man  should  not 
commit  any  sin  barring  his  participation  in  this  beatitude,  in  order 
to  free  his  neighbour  from  sin.  .  .  .  But  one  should  love  his  neigh- 
bour's salvation  more  than  his  own  body" 2 

1  Pars  secunda  secundae,  Qu.  xxiv.  Art.  8. 
2  Pars  secunda  seatndae,  Qu.  xxvi.  Art.  4  and  5. 


478  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

We  may  love  some  of  our  neighbours  more  than  others  ; 
for  those  bound  to  us  by  natural  ties  and  proximity  can  be 
loved  more  and  in  more  actual  ways.  The  order  and  grades 
of  love  will  endure  when  our  natures  are  perfected  in  glory. 

Love  (caritas)  is  the  supreme  theological  virtue.  It 
comes  to  us  in  this  life  through  grace  ;  it  can  be  perfected 
only  when  grace  is  consummated  in  glory.  Likewise  the 
highest  knowledge  possible  in  this  life  comes  through  grace, 
to  be  perfected  in  glory.  All  is  from  God,  and  that  which, 
of  all  the  rest,  seems  most  freely  given  is  the  divine  influence 
disposing  the  intelligence  and  will  toward  good,  and  illuminat- 
ing these  best  God-given  faculties.  This,  as  par  excellence, 
through  the  exceeding  bounty  of  its  free  bestowal,  is  called 
gratia  (grace).  It  is  a  certain  habitual  disposition  of  the 
soul ;  it  is  not  the  same  as  virtus^  but  a  divinely  implanted 
disposition,  in  which  the  virtues  must  be  rooted  ;  it  is  the 
imparted  similitude  of  the  divine  nature,  and  perfects  the 
nature  of  the  soul,  so  far  as  that  has  part  in  likeness  to  the 
divine :  it  is  the  medial  state  between  nature  and  that 
further  consummation  of  the  grace-illumined  nature,  which 
is  glory  ;  and  so  it  is  the  beginning,  the  inchoatio,  of  our 
glorified  beatitude.  Clearly,  grace  is  no  part  of  our  inborn 
nature,  and  does  not  belong  to  our  natural  faculties.  It  is 
a  divinely  bestowed  increment,  directing  our  natural  faculties 
toward  God  and  uplifting  them  to  higher  capacities  of  know- 
ing and  loving. 

To  follow  Thomas's  exposition  of  grace  a  little  more 
closely : *  man,  through  his  natural  powers,  may  know  truth, 
but  not  the  highest ;  and  without  grace,  our  fallen  nature 
cannot  will  all  the  good  belonging  to  it  (connaturale\  nor 
love  God  above  all  else,  nor  merit  eternal  life.  "  Grace  is 
something  supernatural  in  man  coming  from  God."  It 

"  is  not  the  same  as  virtue ;  and  its  subject  (i.e.  its  possessor, 
that  in  which  it  is  set)  cannot  be  a  faculty  (potentia)  of  the  soul ; 
for  the  soul's  faculties,  as  perfected,  are  conceived  to  be  virtues. 
Grace,  which  is  prior  to  virtue,  is  set,  not  in  the  faculties,  but  in  the 
essence  of  the  soul.  Thus,  as  through  his  faculty  of  knowing 
(potentiam  intellectivani),  man  shares  the  divine  knowledge  by  the 
virtue  of  faith,  and  through  the  faculty  of  will  shares  the  divine  love 

1  Pars  prima  secundae,  Qy.  cix.  sqq. 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  479 

by  the  virtue  of  caritas,  so  by  means  of  a  certain  similitude  he  shares 
in  the  divine  nature  through  some  regeneration  or  recreation" 
(Pars  I.  ii.,  Qu.  ex.  Art.  4). 

Grace  may  be  conceived  either  as  "  divine  aid,  moving  us  to 
willing  and  doing  right,  or  as  a  formative  and  abiding 
(habituate)  gift,  divinely  placed  in  us"  (Qu.  cxi.  Art.  2). 
"  The  gift  of  grace  exceeds  the  power  of  any  created  nature  ; 
and  is  nothing  else  than  a  sharing  (participatio)  of  the  divine 
nature  "  (Qu.  cxii.  Art.  I ). 

So  it  is  clear  that  without  grace  man  cannot  rise  to  the 
highest  knowledge  and  the  purest  love  of  which  he  is  capable 
in  this  life ;  far  less  can  he  reach  that  final  and  perfected  blessed- 
ness which  is  expected  hereafter.  For  this  he  must  possess 
the  virtue  of  Faith,  which  cornes  not  without  grace. 

"  The  perfection  of  the  rational  creature  consists  not  only  in  that 
which  may  be  his,  in  accordance  with  his  nature ;  but  also  in  that 
which  may  come  to  him  from  some  supernatural  sharing  in  the 
divine  goodness.  The  final  beatitude  of  man  consists  in  some 
supernatural  vision  of  God.  Man  can  attain  to  that  only  through 
some  mode  of  learning  from  God  the  Teacher,  and  he  must  believe 
God  as  a  disciple  believes  his  master  "  (Pars  II.  ii.,  Qu.  ii.  Art  3). 

Within  the  province  of  the  Christian  Faith  "  it  is  necessary 
that  man  should  accept  per  modum  fidei  not  only  what  is 
above  reason,  but  also  what  may  be  known  through  reason." 
(Art.  4).  He  must  believe  explicitly  the  prima  credibitia, 
that  is  to  say,  the  Articles  of  Faith  ;  it  is  enough  if  he 
believes  other  credibilia  implicitly,  by  holding  his  mind 
prepared  to  accept  whatever  Scripture  teaches  (Art.  5). 

"  To  believe  is  an  act  of  the  intellect  (actus  intellectus)  as  moved 
by  will  to  assenting.  It  proceeds  from  the  will  and  from  the 
intellect.  .  .  .  Yet  it  is  the  immediate  act  of  the  intellect,  and 
therefore  faith  is  in  the  intellect  as  in  a  subject  [i.e.  possessor]  " 
(Qu.  iv.  Art.  2). 

And  Thomas,  having  shown  the  function  of  will  in  any  act 
of  faith,  passes  on  by  the  same  path  to  connect  fides  with 
caritas : 

"  Voluntary  acts  take  their  species  from  the  end  which  is  the  object 
of  volition.  That  from  which  anything  receives  its  species,  occupies 
the  place  held  by  form  in  material  things.  Hence,  as  it  were,  the 


480  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

form  of  any  voluntary  act  is  the  end  to  which  it  is  directed  (ordinatur). 
Manifestly,  an  act  of  faith  is  directed  to  the  object  willed  (which  is 
the  good)  as  to  an  end.  But  good  which  is  the  end  of  faith,  to  wit, 
the  divine  good,  is  the  proper  object  of  caritas.  And  so  cantos  is 
called  the  form  of  faith,  in  so  far  as  through  caritas  the  act  of  faith 
is  perfected  and  given  form  "  (Qu.  iv.  Art  3). 

Thomas  makes  his  conclusion  more  precise  : 

"  As  faith  is  the  consummation  of  the  intellect,  that  which  per- 
tains to  the  intellect,  pertains,  per  se,  to  faith.  What  pertains  to 
will,  does  not,  per  se,  pertain  to  faith.  The  increment  making  the 
difference  between  the  faith  which  has  form  and  faith  which  lacks 
it  (fides  for mata,  fides  informis),  consists  in  that  which  pertains  to 
will,  to  wit,  to  caritas,  and  not  in  what  pertains  to  intellect  "  (Qu. 
iv.  Art.  4). 

Only  the  fides  which  is  formed  and  completed  in  caritas 
is  a  virtue  (Art.  5).  And  Thomas  says  concisely  (Qu.  vi. 
Art.  i )  what  in  many  ways  has  been  made  evident  before : 
For  Faith,  it  is  necessary  that  the  credibilia  should  be 
propounded,  and  then  that  there  should  be  assent  to  them  ; 
but  since  man,  in  assenting  to  those  things  which  are  of  the 
Faith,  is  lifted  above  his  nature,  his  assent  must  proceed 
from  a  supernatural  principle  working  within  him,  which  is 
God  moving  him  through  grace. 

It  is  not  hard  to  see  why  two  gifts  (dona}  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  should  belong  to  the  virtue  Faith,  to  wit,  understand- 
ing and  knowledge,  intellectus  et  scientia.  Thomas  gives  the 
reasons  in  an  argument  germane  to  his  Aristotelian  theory  of 
cognition  : 

"  The  object  of  the  knowing  faculty  is  that  which  is.  ... 
Many  kinds  of  things  lie  hidden  within,  to  which  the  intellectus  of 
man  should  penetrate.  Beneath  the  accidens  the  substantial  nature 
of  the  thing  lies  hidden  ;  beneath  words  lie  their  meanings  ;  beneath 
similes  and  figures,  lies  the  figured  truth — veritas  figurata  (for 
things  intelligible  are,  as  it  were,  within  things  sensible) ;  and  in 
causes  lie  hidden  the  effects,  and  conversely.  Now,  since  human 
cognition  begins  with  sense,  as  from  without,  it  is  clear  that  the 
stronger  the  light  of  the  intellect,  the  further  it  will  penetrate  to  the 
inmost  depths.  But  the  light  of  our  natural  intellect  is  of  finite 
virtue,  and  may  reach  only  to  what  is  limited.  Therefore  man 
needs  the  supernatural  light,  in  order  to  penetrate  to  the  knowledge 
which  through  the  natural  light  he  is  not  able  to  know ;  and  that 


CHAP.  XL  AQUINAS  481 

supernatural  light  given  to  man  is  called  the  donum  intellcctus" 
(Qu.  viii.  Art.  i). 

This  gift  follows  grace.  Grace  is  more  perfect  than  nature. 
It  does  not  abrogate,  but  perfects  the  natural  faculties.  Nor 
does  it  fail  in  those  matters  in  which  man's  natural  power  is 
competent  (Qu.  ix.  Art.  i).  So,  besides  the  donum  intellectus, 
to  Faith  belongs  the  donum  scientiae  also,  which  brings  and 
guides  knowledge  of  human  things  (Art.  2). 

And  now  we  shall  not  be  surprised  to  find  sapientia,  the 
very  highest  gift  of  the  Spirit,  attached  to  the  grace-given 
virtue  carttas.  For  caritas  is  the  informing  principle  of 
Faith,  and  the  highest  virtue  of  the  grace-illumined  will. 
The  will,  be  it  remembered,  belongs  to  man's  intellectual 
nature  ;  its  object  is  the  good  which  is  known  by  the  mind 
(bonum  intellectum).  "  Sapientia  (wisdom,  right  knowledge  as 
to  the  highest  cause,  which  is  God)  signifies  rectitude  of 
judgment  in  accordance  with  the  rationes  divinae"  the  ideas 
and  reasons  which  exist  in  God.  Rectitude  of  judgment 
regarding  things  divine  may  arise  from  rational  inquiry  ;  in 
which  case  it  pertains  to  the  sapientia  which  is  an  intellectual 
virtue.  But  it  may  also  spring  from  affinity  to  those  things 
themselves;  and  then  it  is  a  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit  (II.  ii., 
Qu.  xlv.  Art.  2). 

Says  Thomas : 

"  By  the  name  beatitude  is  understood  the  final  perfection  of  the 
rational  or  intellectual  nature.  This  consists  for  this  life  in  such 
contemplation  as  we  may  have  here  of  the  highest  intelligible  good, 
which  is  God ;  but  above  this  felicity  is  that  other  felicity  which  we 
expect  when  we  shall  see  God  as  He  is  "  (Pars  I.,  Qu.  IxiL  Art  i ). 

But  mark :  the  perfection  of  the  intellectual  nature  does  not 
consist  merely  in  knowing,  narrowly  taken.  The  right 
action  of  will  is  also  essential,  of  the  will  directed  toward  the 
highest  good,  which  is  God :  and  this  is  caritas,  of  which  the 
corresponding  gift  from  the  Spirit  is  wisdom.  In  accord 
with  this  full  consummation  of  human  nature,  comprising 
the  perfection  of  cognition  and  will,  Thomas  outlines  his 
conception  of  the  vita  contemplativa,  the  life  of  most  perfect 
beatitude  attainable  on  earth: 

"  The  vita  contemplativa  is  theirs  whose  resolve  is  set  upon  the 
VOL.  II  2  I 


482  THE  MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

contemplation  of  truth.  Resolve  is  an  act  of  will ;  because  resolve 
is  with  respect  to  the  end,  which  is  the  object  of  will.  Thus  the 
vita  contemplative  according  to  the  essence  of  its  action,  is  of  the 
intelligence ;  but  so  far  as  it  pertains  to  what  moves  us  to  engage 
in  such  action,  it  is  of  the  will,  which  moves  all  the  other  faculties, 
including  the  intelligence,  to  act.  Appetitive  energy  (vis  appetitivd) 
moves  toward  contemplating  something,  either  sensibly  or  intel- 
lectually :  sometimes  from  love  of  the  thing  seen,  and  sometimes 
from  love  of  the  knowledge  itself,  which  arises  from  contemplation. 
And  because  of  this,  Gregory  sets  the  vita  contemplativa  in  the  love 
of  God — in  caritate  Dei — to  wit,  inasmuch  as  some  one,  from  a 
willing  love  (dilectio]  of  God  burns  to  behold  His  beauty.  And 
because  any  one  is  rejoiced  when  he  attains  what  he  loves,  the 
vita  contemplativa  is  directed  toward  dilectio  x  which  lies  in  affect  (in 
affectu)  ;  by  which  amor  also  is  intended  "  (II.  ii.,  Qu.  clxxx.  Art.  i). 

The  moral  virtues,  continues  Thomas,  do  not  pertain 
essentially  to  this  vita.  But  they  may  promote  it,  by 
regulating  the  passions  and  quieting  the  tumult  of  outside 
affairs.  In  principle  it  is  fixed  upon  the  contemplation  of 
truth,  which  here  we  see  but  in  a  glass  darkly  ;  and  so  we 
help  ourselves  along  by  contemplating  the  effects  of  the 
divine  cause  in  the  world. 

Thus  final  beatitude,  and  its  mortal  approach  in  the  vita 
contemplativa  of  this  earth,  is  of  the  mind,  both  in  its  know- 
ledge and  its  love.  Immateriality,  spirituality,  is  with 
Thomas  primarily  intellectual.  Yet  his  beatitude  is  not 
limited  to  the  knowing  faculties.  It  embraces  will  and  love. 
The  grace  of  God  and  the  gifts  of  the  Holy  Spirit  touch  love 
as  well  as  knowledge,  raising  one  and  both  to  final  unison  of 
aim.  Thus  far  in  this  life,  while  in  the  life  to  come,  these 
grace-uplifted  qualities  of  knowledge,  and  that  choosing  love 
(dilectio)  which  rises  from  knowledge  of  the  good,  are  perfected 
in  gloria. 

Further  than  this  we  shall  not  go  with  Thomas,  nor 
follow  him,  for  example,  through  his  exposition  of  the  means 
of  salvation — the  Incarnation  and  the  sacraments.  Nor 
need  we  further  mark  the  prodigious  range  of  his  theology, 
or  his  metaphysics,  logic,  or  physics.  To  all  this  many  books 
have  been  devoted.  We  are  but  seeking  to  realise  his  intel- 
lectual interests  and  qualities,  in  such  way  as  to  bring  them 

1  Another  reading  is  delect atio,  i.e.  enjoyment. 


CHAP.   XL 


AQUINAS  483 


within  the  compass  of  our  sympathy.  A  more  encyclopaedic 
and  systematic  presentation  of  his  teaching  is  proper  for 
those  who  would  trace,  or  perhaps  attach  themselves  to, 
particular  doctrines  ;  or  would  find  in  scholasticism,  even  in 
Thomas,  some  special  anthoritativeness.  For  us  these 
doctrines  have  but  the  validity  of  all  human  striving  after 
truth.  Moreover,  perhaps  a  truer  view  of  Thomas,  the 
theologian  and  philosopher,  is  gained  from  following  a  few 
typical  forms  of  his  teaching  presented  in  his  own  exposition, 
than  by  analyzing  his  thought  with  later  solvents  which  he 
did  not  apply,  and  presenting  his  matter  classified  as  he 
would  not  have  ordered  it,  and  in  modern  phrases,  which 
have  as  many  meanings  foreign  to  scholasticism  as  scholas- 
ticism has  thoughts  not  to  be  translated  into  modern  ways 
of  thinking. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

ROGER    BACON 

OF  all  mediaeval  men,  Thomas  Aquinas  achieved  the  most 
organic  and  comprehensive  union  of  the  results  of  human 
reasoning  and  the  data  of  Christian  theology.  He  may  be 
regarded  as  the  final  exponent  of  scholasticism,  perfected  in 
method,  universal  in  scope,  and  still  integral  in  purpose. 
The  scholastic  method  was  soon  to  be  impugned  and  the 
scholastic  universality  broken.  The  premature  attack  upon 
the  method  came  from  Roger  Bacon  j1  the  fatal  breach  in 
the  scholastic  wholeness  resulted  from  the  constructive,  as 
well  as  critical,  achievements  of  Duns  Scotus  and  Occam. 

Bacon  is  a  perplexing  personality.  With  other 
mediaeval  thinkers  one  quickly  feels  the  point  of  view 
from  which  to  regard  them.  Not  so  with  this  most 
disparate  genius  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Reading  his  rugged 

1  Bacon's  Opus  majus  was  edited  in  incomplete  form  by  Jebb  in  1733,  and 
reprinted  in  1750  at  Venice.  This  edition  is  superseded  by  that  of  Bridges,  in 
two  volumes,  published  with  the  Moralis philosophia  and  Multiplicatio  specie-rum 
by  the  Clarendon  Press  in  1897.  The  text  of  this  edition  had  many  errors, 
which  have  been  corrected  by  a  third  volume  published  in  1900  by  Williams 
and  Norgate,  who  are  now  the  publishers  of  the  three  volumes.  In  1859 
Brewer  edited  the  Opus  tertium,  the  Opus  minus,  and  Compendium  philosophic^ 
for  the  Master  of  the  Rolls  Series. 

"  An  unpublished  Fragment  of  a  work  by  Roger  Bacon  "  was  discovered  by 
F.  A.  Gasquet  in  the  Vatican  Library,  and  published  in  the  English  Historical 
Remeto  for  July  1897.  It  appears  to  be  a  letter  to  Clement  IV.,  written 
in  1267. 

In  1 86 1  appeared  the  excellent  monograph  by  £mile  Charles,  entitled  Roger 
Bacon,  saviet  ses  ouvrages,  ses  doctrines.  To  this  one  still  must  turn  for  extracts 
from  the  Compendium  theologiae,  and  the  Communia  naturalium.  The  last- 
named  work,  with  the  Compendium  philosophiae  and  the  Multiplicatio  specierum 
(which  appears  not  to  be  an  intrinsic  part  of  the  Opus  majus),  may  have  been 
composed  as  parts  of  what  was  to  be  the  writer's  Opus  principale.  Bacon's 
Greek  Grammar  has  been  edited  by  Nolan  and  Hirsch  (Cambridge,  1902). 

484 


CHAP.  XLI  ROGER  BACON  485 

statements,  and  trying  to  form  a  coherent  thought  of  him, 
we  are  puzzled  at  the  contradictions  of  his  mind.  One  may 
not  say  that  he  was  not  of  his  time.  Every  man  is  of  his 
time,  and  cannot  raise  himself  very  far  out  of  the  mass  of 
knowledge  and  opinion  furnished  by  it,  any  more  than  a 
swimmer  can  lift  himself  out  of  the  water  that  sustains  him. 
Yet  personal  temper  and  inclination  may  aline  a  man  with 
less  potent  tendencies,  which  are  obscured  and  hampered  by 
the  dominant  intellectual  interests  of  the  period.  Assuredly, 
through  all  the  Middle  Ages,  there  were  men  who  noticed 
such  physical  phenomena  as  bore  upon  their  lives,  even  men 
who  cared  for  the  dumb  beginnings  of  what  eventually 
might  lead  to  natural  science.  But  they  were  not  repre- 
sentative of  their  epoch's  master  energies ;  and  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  as  always,  the  man  of  evident  and  great 
achievement  will  be  one  who,  like  Aquinas,  stands  upon 
the  whole  attainment  of  his  age.  Roger  Bacon,  on  the 
contrary,  was  as  one  about  whose  loins  the  currents  of  his 
time  drag  and  pull ;  they  did  not  aid  him,  and  yet  he  could 
not  extricate  himself.  It  was  his  intellectual  misfortune 
that  he  was  held  by  his  time  so  fatally,  so  fatally,  at  least, 
for  the  proper  doing  of  the  work  which  was  to  be  his 
contribution  to  human  enlightenment,  a  contribution  well 
ignored  while  he  lived,  and  for  long  afterward. 

Bacon  accepted  the  dominant  mediaeval  convictions : 
the  entire  truth  of  Scripture  ;  the  absolute  validity  of  the 
revealed  religion,  with  its  dogmatic  formulation  ;  also  (to 
his  detriment)  the  universally  prevailing  view  that  the  end 
of  all  the  sciences  is  to  serve  their  queen,  theology.  Yet  he 
hated  the  ways  of  mediaeval  natural  selection  and  survival 
of  the  mediaeval  fittest,  and  the  methods  by  which  Albert 
or  Thomas  or  Vincent  of  Beauvais  were  at  last  presenting 
the  sum  of  mediaeval  knowledge  and  conviction.  Well 
might  he  detest  those  ways  and  methods,  seeing  that  he 
was  Roger  Bacon,  one  impelled  by  his  genius  to  critical 
study,  to  observation  and  experiment.  He  was  impassioned 
for  linguistics,  for  mathematics,  for  astronomy,  optics, 
chemistry,  and  for  an  experimental  science  which  should 
confirm  the  contents  of  all  these,  and  also  enlarge  the  scope 
of  human  ingenuity.  Yet  he  was  held  fast,  and  his  thinking 


486  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  v» 

was  confused,  by  what  he  took  from  his  time.  Especially 
he  was  obsessed  by  the  idea  that  philosophy,  including  every 
branch  of  knowledge,  must  serve  theology,  and  even  in  that 
service  find  its  justification.  But  what  has  chemistry  to  do 
with  theology  ?  What  has  mathematics  ?  And  what  has 
the  physical  experimental  method  ?  By  maintaining  the 
utility  of  these  for  theology,  Bacon  saved  his  mediaeval 
orthodoxy,  and  it  may  be,  his  skin  from  the  fire.  But  it 
wrecked  the  working  of  his  genius.  His  writings  remain, 
such  of  them  as  are  known,  astounding  in  their  originality 
and  insight,  and  almost  as  remarkable  for  their  inconsist- 
encies ;  they  are  marked  by  a  confusion  of  method  and  a 
distortion  of  purpose,  which  sprang  from  the  contradictions 
between  Bacon's  genius  and  the  current  views  which  he 
adopted. 

The  career  of  Bacon  was  an  intellectual  tragedy,  con- 
forming to  the  old  principles  of  tragic  art :  that  the  hero's 
character  shall  be  large  and  noble,  but  not  flawless,  inasmuch 
as  the  fatal  consummation  must  issue  from  character,  and 
not  happen  through  chance.  He  died  an  old  man,  as  in  his 
youth,  so  in  his  age,  a  devotee  of  tangible  knowledge.  His 
pursuit  of  a  knowledge  which  was  not  altogether  learning 
had  been  obstructed  by  the  Order  of  which  he  was  an 
unhappy  and  rebellious  member ;  quite  as  fatally  his 
achievement  was  deformed  from  within  by  the  principles 
which  he  accepted  from  his  time.  But  he  was  responsible 
for  his  acceptance  of  current  opinions  ;  and  as  his  views 
roused  the  distrust  of  his  brother  Friars,  his  intractable 
temper  drew  their  hostility  (of  which  we  know  very  little) 
on  his  head.  Persuasiveness  and  tact  were  needed  by  one 
who  would  impress  such  novel  views  as  his  upon  his  fellows, 
or,  in  the  thirteenth  century,  escape  persecution  for  their 
divulgence.  Bacon  attacked  dead  and  living  worthies,  tact- 
lessly, fatuously,  and  unfairly.  Of  his  life  scarcely  anything 
is  known,  save  from  his  allusions  to  himself  and  others  ;  and 
these  are  insufficient  for  the  construction  of  even  a  slight 
consecutive  narrative.  Born  ;  studied  at  Oxford ;  went  to 
Paris,  studied,  experimented  ;  is  at  Oxford  again,  and  a 
Franciscan  ;  studies,  teaches,  becomes  suspect  to  his  Order, 
is  sent  back  to  Paris,  kept  under  surveillance,  receives  a 


CHAP.  XLI  ROGER  BACON  487 

letter  from  the  pope,  writes,  writes,  writes, — his  three  best- 
known  works  ;  is  again  in  trouble,  confined  for  many  years, 
released,  and  dead,  so  very  dead,  body  and  fame  alike, 
until  partly  unearthed  after  five  centuries. 

Inference  and  construction  may  fill  out  this  sombre 
outline.  England  was  the  land  of  Bacon's  birth,  and 
Ilchester  is  said  to  have  been  the  natal  spot.  The  approxi- 
mate date  may  be  guessed  at  from  his  reference  to  himself 
as  senex  in  1267,  and  his  remark  that  he  had  then  been 
studying  forty  years.  His  family  seems  to  have  been 
wealthy.  Besides  the  letter  of  Pope  Clement,  hereafter  to 
be  quoted,  there  is  one  contemporary  reference  to  him. 
Mathew  Paris  has  a  story  of  a  certain  dericus  de  curia,  scilicet 
Rogerus  Bacum,  speaking  up  with  bold  wit  to  King  Henry 
III.  at  Oxford  in  1233.  Bacon  when  a  young  man  studied 
there  under  Robert  Grosseteste  and  Adam  of  Marsh.  He 
frequently  refers  to  both,  and  always  with  respect  His 
chief  enthusiasm  is  for  the  former.  For  years  this  admirable 
man  was  chancellor  of  Oxford ;  until  made  bishop  of 
Lincoln  in  1235.  Although  never  a  Franciscan,  he  was 
the  Order's  devoted  friend,  and  lectured  in  its  house  at 
Oxford.  Grosseteste  founded  the  study  of  Greek  at  Oxford, 
and  collected  treatises  upon  Greek  grammar.  Bacon,  follow- 
ing him,  .wrote  a  Greek  grammar.  Grosseteste,  before 
Bacon,  devoted  himself  to  physics  and  mathematics,  and  all 
that  these  many-branched  sciences  might  include.  Besides 
a  taste  for  these  studies  Bacon  may  have  had  from  him  the 
idea  that  they  were  useful  for  theology.  "  No  one,"  says 
Bacon,  "  knew  the  sciences  save  Lord  Robert,  Bishop  of 
Lincoln,  from  his  length  of  life  and  experience,  and  studious- 
ness  and  industry,  and  because  he  knew  mathematics  and 
optics,  and  was  able  to  know  all  things ;  and  he  knew 
enough  of  the  languages  to  understand  the  saints  and 
philosophers  of  antiquity ;  but  not  enough  to  translate 
them,  unless  towards  the  end  of  his  life  when  he  invited 
Greeks,  and  had  books  of  Greek  grammar  gathered  from 
Greece  and  elsewhere."  *  There  is  evidence  that  others  at 
Oxford,  besides  Grosseteste,  were  interested  in  the  study  of 
Greek  and  natural  science. 

1  Opus  tertium,  chap.  xxv.  p.  91  (Brewer's  text). 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND 

From  Oxford  Bacon  went  to  Paris,  where  apparently 
he  remained  for  a  number  of  years ;  he  was  made  a  doctor 
there,  and  afterwards  became  a  Franciscan.  Since  a  monk 
could  own  nothing,  one  may  perhaps  infer  that  Bacon  did 
not  join  the  Order  until  after  the  lapse  of  certain  twenty 
years  of  scientific  research,  in  which  he  spent  much  money, 
as  he  says  in  1267,  in  an  often-quoted  passage  of  the  Opus 

M  For  now  I  have  laboured  from  my  youth  in  the  sciences  and 
languages,  and  for  the  furtherance  of  study,  getting  together  much 
that  is  useful  I  sought  the  friendship  of  all  wise  men  among 
the  Latins,  and  caused  youth  to  be  instructed  in  languages,  and 
geometric  figures,  in  numbers  and  tables  and  instruments,  and  many 
needful  matters.  I  examined  everything  useful  to  the  purpose,  and 
I  know  how  to  proceed,  and  with  what  means,  and  what  are  the 
impediments :  but  I  cannot  go  on  for  lack  of  the  funds  which  are 
needed.  Through  the  twenty  years  in  which  I  laboured  specially  in 
the  study  of  wisdom,  careless  of  the  crowd's  opinion,  I  spent  more 
than  two  thousand  pounds  in  these  pursuits  on  occult  books  (tibros 
sec/etas)  and  various  experiments,  and  languages  and  instruments, 
and  tables  and  other  things."1 

After  his  first  stay  at  Paris  Bacon  returned  to  Oxford. 
There  he  doubtless  continued  his  researches,  and  divulged 
them,  or  taught  in  some  way.  For  he  roused  the  suspicions 
of  his  Order,  and  in  the  course  of  time  was  sent  or  conducted 
back  to  Paris,  where  constraint  seems  to  have  been  put  upon 
his  actions  and  utterances.  Like  the  first,  this  second,  possibly 
enforced,  stay  was  a  long  one;  he  speaks  of  himself  in  the  first 
chapter  of  the  Opus  tcrtrxm  as  "  for  ten  years  an  exile."  Yet 
here  as  always,  one  is  not  quite  certain  how  literally  to  take 
Bacon's  personal  statements,  either  touching  himself  or  others. 

A  short  period  of  elation  was  at  hand.  He  had  evidently 
.  been  forbidden  to  write,  or  spread  his  ideas ;  he  had  been 
disciplined  at  times  with  a  diet  of  bread  and  water.  All 
this  had  failed  to  sweeten  his  temper,  or  conform  his  mind 
to  current  views.  In  1265,  an  open-minded  man  who  had 
been  a  jurist,  a  warrior,  and  the  counsellor  of  a  king,  before 
becoming  an  ecclesiastic,  was  made  Pope  Clement  IV. 
While  living  in  Paris  he  had  been  interested  in  Bacon's 

1  Opms  tarfna*,  chap.  rrfi.  (pp.  5&-S9,  Brewer's  ed.). 


CHAP.  XLI  ROGER  BACON  489 

work.  Soon  after  the  papal  election  our  sore  -  bestead 
philosopher  managed  to  communicate  with  him,  as  appears 
by  the  pope's  reply,  written  from  Viterbo,  in  July  1 266  : 

"To  our  beloved  son,  Brother  Roger,  called  Bacon,  of  the 
Order  of  Brothers  Minorites.  We  have  received  with  pleasure  the 
letter  of  thy  devotion;  and  we  have  well  considered  what  our 
beloved  son  called  Bonecor,  Knight,  has  by  word  of  mouth  set 
forth  to  us,  with  fidelity  and  prudence.  So  then,  that  we  may 
understand  more  clearly  what  thou  purposest,  it  is  our  will,  and  we 
command  thee  by  our  Apostolic  mandate  that,  notwithstanding  the 
prohibition  of  any  prelate,  or  any  constitution  of  thy  Order,  thou 
sendest  to  us  speedily  in  good  script  that  work  which,  while  we 
held  a  minor  office,  we  requested  thee  to  communicate  to  our 
beloved  son  Raymond,  of  Laudunum.  Also,  we  command  thee 
to  set  forth  in  a  letter  what  remedies  thou  deemest  should  be 
applied  to  those  matters  which  thou  didst  recently  speak  of  as 
fraught  with  such  peril.  Do  this  as  secretly  as  possible  without 
delay." » 

Poor  Bacon  !  The  pope's  letter  roused  him  to  ecstasy, 
then  put  him  in  a  quandary,  and  elicited  elaborate  apologies, 
and  the  flood  of  persuasive  exposition  which  he  poured  forth 
with  tremulous  haste  in  the  eighteen  months  following. 
Delight  at  being  solicited  by  the  head  of  Christendom 
breaks  out  in  hyperbole,  not  to  be  wondered  at :  he  is 
uplifted  and  cast  prone ;  that  his  littleness  and  multiple 
ignorance,  his  tongue-tied  mouth  and  rasping  pen,  and 
himself  unlistened  to  by  all  men,  a  buried  man  delivered 
to  oblivion,  should  be  called  on  by  the  pope's  wisdom  for 
wisdom's  writings  (sapientales  scripturas)  \ 

"  The  Saviour's  vicar,  the  ruler  of  the  orb,  has  deigned  to  solicit 
me,  who  am  scarcely  to  be  numbered  among  the  particles  of  the 
world — inter  paries  universae  \  Yet,  while  my  weakness  is  oppressed 
with  the  glory  of  this  mandate,  I  am  raised  above  my  own  powers ; 
I  feel  a  fervour  of  spirit ;  I  rise  up  in  strength.  And  indeed  I  ought 
to  overflow  with  gratitude  since  your  beatitude  commands  what  I 
have  desired,  what  I  have  worked  out  with  sweat,  and  gleaned 
through  great  expenditures."  * 

The  word  "  expenditures  "  touches  one  horn  of  Bacon's 
dilemma.  He  is  a  Franciscan  ;  therefore  penniless  ;  and, 

1  Brewer,  fi.  Bacon,  Opera  inedita,  p.  I. 
*  Opus  tcrtium,  pp.  7  and  8. 


490  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

besides  that,  apparently  under  the  restraining  ban  of  his 
own  Order.  The  pope  has  enjoined  secrecy ;  therefore 
Bacon  cannot  set  up  the  papal  mandate  against  the 
probable  interference  of  his  own  superiors.  The  pope  has 
sent  no  funds  ;  sitting  in  culmine  mundi  he  was  too  busy 
with  high  affairs  to  think  of  that1  And  now  comes  the 
chief  matter  for  Bacon's  apologies :  his  Beatitude  mis- 
apprehends, has  been  misinformed :  the  work  is  not  yet 
written  ;  it  is  still  to  be  composed. 

In  spite  of  these  obstacles  the  friendless  but  resourceful 
philosopher  somehow  obtained  opportunity  to  write,  and  the 
means  needed  for  the  fair  copy.  And  then  in  those  great 
eighteen,  or  perhaps  but  fifteen,  months,  what  a  flood  of 
enlightenment,  of  reforming  criticism,  of  plans  of  study  and 
methods  of  investigation,  of  examples  and  sketches  of  the 
matter  to  be  prepared  or  discovered,  is  poured  forth.  Four 
works  we  know  of,2  and  they  may  have  made  the  greater 
part  of  all  that  Bacon  ever  actually  wrote.  With  variations 
of  emphasis,  of  abridgement  and  elaboration,  the  four  have 
the  one  purpose  to  convince  the  pope  of  the  enormous  value 
of  Bacon's  scheme  of  useful  and  saving  knowledge.  To  a 
great  extent  they  set  forth  the  same  matters ;  indeed  the 
Opus  tertium  was  intended  to  convey  the  substance  of  the 
Opus  mafus,  should  that  fail  to  reach  the  pope.  So  there 
is  much  repetition  and  some  disorder  in  these  eager,  hurried 
works,  defects  which  emphasise  the  dramatic  situation  of  the 
impetuous  genius  whose  pent-up  utterance  was  loosed  at  last. 
The  Opus  minus  and  the  Vatican  Fragment  are  as  from  a 
man  overpowered  by  the  eagerness  to  say  everything  at  once, 
lest  the  night  close  in  before  he  have  chance  of  speech.  And 

1  In  Opus  tertium,  chap.  iii.  (Brewer,  p.  15),  Bacon  plainly  tells  the  pope 
the  difficulties  in  which  he  had  been  placed  by  this  injunction  of  secrecy:   "The 
first  cause  of  delay  came  through  those  who  are  over  me.    Since  you  have  written 
nothing  to  them  in  my  excuse,  and  I  could  not  reveal  to  them  your  secret,  they 
insisted  with  unspeakable  violence  that  I  should  obey  their  will ;  but  I  refused, 
because  of  the  bond  of  your  mandate,  which  bound  me  to  your  work,  notwith- 
standing any  order  from  my  prelates.     And,  of  a  surety,  as  I  was  not  excused  by 
you,  I  met  with  obstacles  too  great  and  many  to  enumerate.   .   .   .  And  another 
obstacle,  enough  to  defeat  the  whole  business,  was  the  lack  of  funds." 

2  These  are,  of  course,  the  Opus  majns,  the  Opus  minus,  and   the  Opus 
tertium  ;  also  the  Vatican  Fragment,  the  position  of  which  is  not  quite  clear ; 
but  it  is  part  of  the  writings  of  this  year,  and  constitutes  apparently  the  intro- 
ductory letter  to  Clement. 


CHAP.  XLI  ROGER  BACON 


491 


when  the  Opus  majus  was  at  last  sent  forth,  accompanied 
by  the  Opus  minus,  as  a  battleship  by  a  light  armed  cruiser, 
the  Opus  tertium  was  despatched  after  them,  filled  with  the 
same  militant  exposition,  for  fear  the  former  two  should 
perish  en  voyage. 

Did  they  ever  reach  the  pope  ?  We  may  presume  so. 
Did  he  read  any  one  of  them  ?  Here  there  is  no  informa- 
tion. Popes  were  the  busiest  men  in  Europe,  and  death 
was  so  apt  to  cut  short  their  industry.  Clement  died  the 
next  year,  and  so  far  as  known,  no  syllable  of  acknowledge- 
ment from  him  ever  reached  the  feverishly  expectant 
philosopher. 

A  few  words  will  tell  the  rest.  In  1271,  apparently, 
Bacon  wrote  his  Compendium  studii  philosophiae>  taking  the 
occasion  to  denounce  the  corruptions  of  Church  and  society 
in  unmeasured  terms.  He  rarely  measured  his  vituperation  ! 
His  life  was  setting  on  toward  its  long  last  trial.  In  1277, 
Jerome  of  Ascoli,  the  General  of  the  Franciscan  Order,  held 
a  Chapter  at  Paris,  and  Bacon  was  condemned  to  imprison- 
ment (carceri  condempnatus}  because  of  his  teachings,  which 
contained  aliquas  novitates  suspectas}  Jerome  became  Pope 
Nicholas  IV.  At  a  Chapter  of  the  Order  held  in  Paris  in 
1292,  just  after  his  death,  certain  prisoners  condemned  in 
1277,  were  set  free.  Roger  Bacon  probably  was  among  the 
number.  If  so,  it  was  in  the  year  of  his  liberation  that  he 
wrote  a  tract  entitled  Compendium  theologiae ;  for  that  was 
written  in  1292.  This  is  the  last  we  hear  of  him.  But  as 
he  must  now  have  been  hard  on  to  eighty,  probably  he  did 
not  live  much  longer. 

There  seems  to  have  been  nothing  exceptional  in  Bacon's 
attitude  toward  Scripture  and  the  doctrines  of  the  Church. 
He  deemed,  with  other  mediaeval  men,  that  Scripture  held, 
at  least  implicitly,  the  sum  of  knowledge  useful  or  indeed 
possible  for  men.  True,  neither  the  Old  Testament  nor  the 
New  treats  of  grammar,  or  physics,  or  of  minerals,  or  plants, 
or  animals.  Nevertheless,  the  statements  in  these  revealed 
writings  are  made  with  complete  knowledge  of  every  topic 
or  thing  considered  or  referred  to — bird,  beast,  and  plant, 

1  The    authority   for   this   is   the    Chronica  XXIV.,    Generalium    Ordinis 
Minorum  ;  see  Bridges,  vol.  iii.  p.  158. 


492  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

the  courses  of  the  stars,  the  earth  and  its  waters,  yea,  the 
arts  of  song  or  agriculture,  and  the  principles  of  every  science. 
Conversely  (and  here  Bacon  even  gave  fresh  emphasis  and 
novel  pointings  to  the  current  view)  all  knowledge  whatso- 
ever, every  art  and  science,  is  needed  for  the  full  under- 
standing of  Scripture,  sacra  doctrina,  in  a  word,  theology. 
This  opinion  may  hold  large  truth  ;  but  Bacon's  advocacy 
of  it  sometimes  affects  us  as  a  reductio  ad  absurdum, 
especially  when  he  is  proceeding  on  the  assumption  that  the 
patriarchs  and  prophets  had  knowledge  of  all  sciences, 
including  astrology  and  the  connection  between  the  courses 
of  the  stars  and  the  truth  of  Christianity. 

There  was  likewise  nothing  startling  in  Bacon's  view 
of  the  Fathers,  and  their  knowledge  and  authoritativeness. 
Thomas  did  not  regard  them  as  inspired.  Neither  did 
Bacon  ;  he  respects  them,  yet  discerns  limitations  to  their 
knowledge  ;  by  reason  of  their  circumstances  they  may  have 
neglected  certain  of  the  sciences ;  but  this  is  no  reason  why 
we  should.1 

As  for  the  ancient  philosophers,  Bacon  holds  to  their 
partial  inspiration.  "  God  illuminated  their  minds  to  desire 
and  perceive  the  truths  of  philosophy.  He  even  disclosed 
the  truth  to  them."  2  They  received  their  knowledge  from 
God,  indirectly  as  it  were,  through  the  prophets,  to  whom 
God  revealed  it  directly.  More  than  once  and  with  every 
detail  of  baseless  tradition,  he  sets  forth  the  common  view 
that  the  Greek  philosophers  studied  the  prophets,  and  drew 
their  wisdom  from  that  source.3  But  their  knowledge  was 
not  complete  ;  and  it  behoves  us  to  know  much  that  is  not 
in  Aristotle.4 

"  The  study  of  wisdom  may  always  increase  in  this  life,  because 
nothing  is  perfect  in  human  discoveries.  Therefore,  we  later  men 
ought  to  supplement  the  defects  of  the  ancients,  since  we  have 
entered  into  their  labours,  through  which,  unless  we  are  asses,  we 
may  be  incited  to  improve  upon  them.  It  is  most  wretched 


1  See  Op.  tertium,  p.  26  sqq.  (Brewer). 

2  Opus    majus,    pars   ii.    end   of    chap.    v.    and   beginning    of    chap.    vi. 
(Bridges,  iii.  p.  49) ;  see  Op.  tcrtium  (Brewer),  p.  8 1. 

3  Op.  maj.  pars  ii.  chap.  xv.  (Bridges,  iii.  p.  71). 

4  Op.  tertium,  p.  39. 


CHAP.  XLI  ROGER  BACON 


493 


always  to  be  using  what  has  been  attained,  and  never  reach  further 
for  one's  self."  l 

It  may  be  that  Bacon  was  suspected  of  raising  the 
philosophers  too  near  the  Christian  level  ;  and  perhaps  his 
argument  that  their  knowledge  had  come  from  the  prophets 
may  have  seemed  a  vain  excuse.  Says  he,  for  example : 

"  There  was  a  great  book  of  Aristotle  upon  civil  science,2  well 
agreeing  with  the  Christian  law ;  for  the  law  of  Aristotle  has  precepts 
like  the  Christian  law,  although  much  is  added  in  the  latter  excelling 
all  human  science.  The  Christian  law  takes  whatever  is  worthy  in 
the  civil  philosophical  law.  For  God  gave  the  philosophers  all  truth, 
as  the  saints,  and  especially  Augustine,  declare.  .  .  .  And  what 
noble  thoughts  have  they  expressed  upon  God,  the  blessed  Trinity, 
the  Incarnation,  Christ,  the  blessed  Virgin,  and  the  angels." 3 

Possibly  one  is  here  reminded  of  Abaelard,  and  his 
thought  of  Christianity  as  reformatio  legis  naturalis.  Yet 
Christ  had  said,  He  came  not  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil ;  and 
the  chief  Christian  theologians  had  followed  Augustine  in 
"  despoiling  the  Egyptians "  as  he  phrased  it ;  the  very 
process  which  in  fact  was  making  the  authority  of  Aristotle 
supreme  in  Bacon's  time.  So  there  was  little  that  was 
peculiar  or  suspicious  in  Bacon's  admiration  of  the  philo- 
sophers. 

The  trouble  with  Bacon  becomes  clearer  as  we  turn  to 
his  views  upon  the  state  of  knowledge  in  his  time,  and  the 
methods  of  contemporary  doctors  in  rendering  it  worse, 
rather  than  better.  These  doctors  were  largely  engaged 
upon  sacra  doctrina ;  they  were  primarily  theologians  and 
expounders  of  the  truth  of  revelation.  Bacon's  criticism  of 
their  methods  might  disparage  that  to  which  those  methods 
were  applied.  His  caustic  enumeration  of  the  four  ever- 
lasting causes  of  error,  and  the  seven  vices  infecting  the 
study  of  theology,  will  show  reason  enough  why  his  error- 
stricken  and  infected  contemporaries  wished  to  close  his 
mouth.  The  anxiousness  of  some  might  sour  to  enmity 
under  the  acerbity  of  his  attack  ;  nor  would  their  hearts 
be  softened  by  Bacon's  boasting  that  these  various  doctors, 

i  Op.  maj.  pars  ii.  (Bridges,  iii.  pp.  69-70).      Cf.  ante,  p.  180. 

-  The  reference  seems  to  be  to  the  Ethics  and  Politics. 

8  Compendium  studii,  p.  424  (Brewer). 


494  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

of  course  including  Albert,  could  not  write  in  ten  years  what 
he  is  sending  to  the  pope.1  Bacon  declares  that  there  is  at 
Paris  a  great  man  (was  it  Albert  ?  was  it  Thomas  ?),  who  is 
set  up  as  an  authority  in  the  schools,  like  Aristotle  or 
Averroes ;  and  his  works  display  merely  "  infinite  puerile 
vanity,"  "  ineffable  falsity,"  superfluous  verbiage,  and  the 
omission  of  the  most  needful  parts  of  philosophy.2  Bacon  is 
not  content  with  abusing  members  of  the  rival  Dominican 
Order  ;  but  includes  in  his  contempt  the  venerable  Alexander 
of  Hales,  the  defunct  light  of  the  Franciscans.  "  Nullum 
ordinem  exclude"  cries  he,  in  his  sweeping  denunciation  of  his 
epoch's  rampant  sins.  As  for  the  seculars,  why,  they  can 
only  lecture  by  stealing  the  copy-books  of  the  "  boys "  in 
the  "  aforesaid  Orders." 3  "  Never,"  says  Bacon  in  the 
Compendium  studii  from  which  the  last  phrases  are  taken, 
"  has  there  been  such  a  show  of  wisdom,  nor  such  prosecu- 
tion of  study  in  so  many  faculties  through  so  many  regions 
as  in  the  last  forty  years.  Doctors  are  spread  everywhere, 
especially  in  theology,  in  every  city,  castle,  and  burg,  chiefly 
through  the  two  student  Orders.  Yet  there  was  never  so 
great  ignorance  and  so  much  error — as  shall  appear  from 
this  writing." 4 

Bacon  never  loses  a  chance  of  stating  the  four  causes  of 
the  error  and  ignorance  about  him.  These  causes  preyed 
upon  his  mind — he  would  have  said  they  preyed  upon  the 
age.  They  are  elaborately  expounded  in  pars  i.  of  the  Opus 
majus : 5 

"  There  are  four  principal  stumbling  blocks  (pffendiculd)  to  compre- 
hending truth,  which  hinder  well-nigh  every  one  :  the  example  of 
frail  and  unworthy  authority,  long-established  custom,  the  sense  of 
the  ignorant  crowd  (vulgi  sensus  imperiti),  and  the  hiding  of  one's 
own  ignorance  under  the  pretence  of  wisdom.  In  these,  every  man 
is  involved  and  every  state  beset.  For  in  every  act  of  life,  or  business, 
or  study,  these  three  worst  arguments  are  used  for  the  same  con- 
clusion :  this  was  the  way  of  our  ancestors,  this  is  the  custom,  this 

1   Op.  tertittm,  p.  14.  2  Op.  tertium,  p.  30. 

8   Compendium  studii phil.  p.  429  (Brewer). 

4  Ibid.  p.  398 — written  in  1271. 

6  I  follow  the  paging  of  Bridges,  vol.  iii.  These  four  causes  of  error  are  also 
given  in  Opus  tertium,  p.  69,  Compendium  studii ',  p.  414  (Brewer),  and  the 
Gasquet  Fragment,  p.  504. 


CHAP.  XLI  ROGER  BACON 


495 


is  the  common  view :  therefore  should  be  held.  But  the  opposite 
of  this  conclusion  follows  much  better  from  the  premises,  as  I  will 
prove  through  authority,  experience,  and  reason.  If  these  three  are 
sometimes  refuted  by  the  glorious  power  of  reason,  the  fourth  is 
always  ready,  as  a  gloss  for  foolishness ;  so  that,  though  a  man  know 
nothing  of  any  value,  he  will  impudently  magnify  it,  and  thus, 
soothing  his  wretched  folly,  defeat  truth.  From  these  deadly  pests 
come  all  the  evils  of  the  human  race ;  for  the  noblest  and  most 
useful  documents  of  wisdom  are  ignored,  and  the  secrets  of  the  arts 
and  sciences.  Worse  than  this,  men  blinded  by  the  darkness  of 
these  four  do  not  see  their  ignorance,  but  take  every  care  to 
palliate  that  for  which  they  do  not  find  the  remedy ;  and  what  is 
the  worst,  when  they  are  in  the  densest  shades  of  error,  they  deem 
themselves  in  the  full  light  of  truth." l 

Therefore  they  think  the  true  the  false,  and  spend  their  time 
and  money  vainly,  says  Bacon  with  many  strainings  of 
phrase. 

"  There  is  no  remedy,"  continues  Bacon,  "  against  the 
first  three  causes  of  error  save  as  with  all  our  strength  we  set 
the  sound  authors  above  the  weak  ones,  reason  above  custom, 
and  the  opinions  of  the  wise  above  the  humours  of  the  crowd  ; 
and  do  not  trust  in  the  triple  argument :  this  has  precedent, 
this  is  customary,  this  is  the  common  view."  But  the  fourth 
cause  of  error  is  the  worst  of  all.  "  For  this  is  a  lone  and 
savage  beast,  which  devours  and  destroys  all  reason, — this 
desire  of  seeming  wise,  with  which  every  man  is  born." 
Bacon  arraigns  this  cause  of  evil,  through  numerous  witnesses, 
sacred  and  profane.  It  has  two  sides  :  display  of  pretended 
knowledge,  and  excusing  of  ignorance.  Infinite  are  the 
verities  of  God  and  the  creation  :  let  no  one  boast  of  know- 
ledge. It  is  not  for  man  to  glory  in  his  wisdom  ;  faith  goes 
beyond  man's  knowledge  ;  and  still  much  is  unrevealed.  In 
forty  years  we  learn  no  more  than  could  be  taught  youth  in 
one.  I  have  profited  more  from  simple  men  "  than  from  all 
my  famous  doctors." 

Bacon's  four  universal  causes  of  ignorance  indicate  his 
general  attitude.  More  specific  criticisms  upon  the  academic 
methods  of  his  time  are  contained  in  his  septem  peccata  studii 
prindpalis  quod  est  tfaologiae.  This  is  given  in  the  Opus 
minus?  Bacon,  it  will  be  remembered,  says  again  and  again 

1  Op.  maj.  pp.  2  and  3.  a  P.  322  W-  (Brewer). 


496  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  VH 

that  all  sciences  must  serve  theology,  and  find  their  value 
from  that  service  :  the  science  of  theology  includes  every 
science,  and  should  use  each  as  a  handmaid  for  its  own  ends. 
Accordingly,  when  Bacon  speaks  of  the  seven  vices  of  the 
studium  principale  quod  est  theologia,  we  may  expect  him  to 
point  out  vicious  methods  touching  all  branches  of  study, 
yet  with  an  eye  to  their  common  service  of  their  mistress. 

"  Seven  are  the  vices  of  the  chief  study  which  is  theology ;  the 
first  is  that  philosophy  in  practice  dominates  theology.  But  it 
ought  not  to  dominate  in  any  province  beyond  itself,  and  surely  not 
the  science  of  God,  which  leads  to  eternal  life.  .  .  .  The  greater 
part  of  all  the  quaestiones  in  a  Summa  theologiae  is  pure  philosophy, 
with  arguments  and  solutions ;  and  there  are  infinite  quaestiones  con- 
cerning the  heavens,  and  concerning  matter  and  being,  and  concerning 
species  and  the  similitudes  of  things,  and  concerning  cognition  through 
such  ;  also  concerning  eternity  and  time,  and  how  the  soul  is  in  the 
body,  and  how  angels  move  locally,  and  how  they  are  in  a  place, 
and  an  infinitude  of  like  matters  which  are  determined  in  the  books 
of  the  philosophers.  To  investigate  these  difficulties  does  not 
belong  to  theologians,  according  to  the  main  intent  and  subject  of 
their  work.  They  ought  briefly  to  recite  these  truths  as  they  find 
them  determined  in  philosophy.  Moreover,  the  other  matter  of  the 
quaestiones  which  concerns  what  is  proper  to  theology,  as  concern- 
ing the  Blessed  Trinity,  the  Incarnation,  the  Sacraments,  is 
discussed  principally  through  the  authorities,  arguments,  and 
distinctions  of  philosophy." 

Evidently,  this  first  vice  of  theological  study  infected 
the  method  of  Albert  and  Thomas,  and  of  practically  all 
other  theologians  !  Its  correction  might  call  for  a  complete 
reversal  of  method.  But  the  reversal  desired  by  Bacon  would 
scarcely  have  led  back  to  Gospel  simplicity,  as  may  be  seen 
from  what  follows. 

"The  second  vice  is  that  the  best  sciences,  which  are  those 
most  clearly  pertinent  to  theology,  are  not  used  by  theologians.  I 
refer  to  the  grammar  of  the  foreign  tongues  from  which  all  theology 
comes.  Of  even  more  value  are  mathematics,  optics,  moral  science, 
experimental  science,  and  alchemy.  But  the  cheap  sciences  (scientiac 
viles)  are  used  by  theologians,  like  Latin  grammar,  logic,  natural 
philosophy  in  its  baser  part,  and  a  certain  side  of  metaphysics.  In 
these  there  is  neither  the  good  of  the  soul,  nor  the  good  of  the 
body,  nor  the  good  things  of  fortune.  But  moral  philosophy  draws 
out  the  good  of  the  soul,  as  far  as  philosophy  may.  Alchemy  is 


CHAP.  XLI  ROGER  BACON  497 

experimental  and,  with  mathematics  and  optics,  promotes  the  good 
of  the  body  and  of  fortune.  .  .  .  While  the  grammar  of  other 
tongues  gives  theology  and  moral  philosophy  to  the  Latins.  .  .  . 
Oh  !  what  madness  is  it  to  neglect  sciences  so  useful  for  theology, 
and  be  sunk  in  those  which  are  impertinent ! 

"The  third  vice  is  that  the  theologians  are  ignorant  of  those 
four  sciences  which  they  use ;  and  therefore  accept  a  mass  of  false 
and  futile  propositions,  taking  the  doubtful  for  certain,  the  obscure 
for  evident ;  they  suffer  alike  from  superfluity  and  the  lack  of  what 
is  necessary,  and  so  stain  theology  with  infinite  vices  which  proceed 
from  sheer  ignorance."  For  they  are  ignorant  of  Greek  and  Hebrew 
and  Arabic,  and  therefore  ignorant  of  all  the  sciences  contained  in 
these  tongues;  and  they  have  relied  on  Alexander  of  Hales  and 
others  as  ignorant  as  themselves.  The  fourth  vice  is  that  they 
study  and  lecture  on  the  Sentences  of  the  Lombard,  instead  of  the 
text  of  Scripture  ;  and  the  lecturers  on  the  Sentences  are  preferred 
in  honour,  while  any  one  who  would  lecture  on  Scripture  has  to  beg 
for  a  room  and  hour  to  be  set  him. 

"The  fifth  fault  is  greater  than  all  the  preceding.  The  text  of 
Scripture  is  horribly  corrupt  in  the  Vulgate  copy  at  Paris." 

Bacon  goes  at  some  length  into  the  errors  of  the  Vulgate, 
and  gives  a  good  account  of  the  various  Latin  versions  of 
the  Bible.  Next,  the  "  sextum  peccatum  is  far  graver  than 
all,  and  may  be  divided  into  two  peccata  maxima  :  one  is  that 
through  these  errors  the  literal  sense  of  the  Vulgate  has 
infinite  falsities  and  intolerable  uncertainties,  so  that  the 
truth  cannot  be  known.  From  this  follows  the  other  peccatum, 
that  the  spiritual  sense  is  infected  with  the  same  doubt  and 
error."  These  errors,  first  in  the  literal  meaning,  and  thence 
in  the  spiritual  or  allegorical  significance, spring  from  ignorance 
of  the  original  tongues,  and  from  ignorance  of  the  birds  and 
beasts  and  objects  of  all  sorts  spoken  of  in  the  Bible.  "  By 
far  the  greater  cause  of  error,  both  in  the  literal  and  spiritual 
meaning,  rises  from  ignorance  of  things  in  Scripture.  For 
the  literal  sense  is  in  the  natures  and  properties  of  things,  in 
order  that  the  spiritual  meaning  may  be  elicited  through 
convenient  adaptations  and  congruent  similitudes."  Bacon 
cites  Augustine  to  show  that  we  cannot  understand  the 
precept,  Estate  prudentes  sicut  serpentes,  unless  we  know  that 
it  is  the  serpent's  habit  to  expose  his  body  in  defence  of  his 
head,  as  the  Christian  should  expose  all  things  for  the  sake 
of  his  head,  which  is  Christ.  Alack  !  is  it  for  such  ends  as 
VOL.  II  2  K 


498  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

these  that  Bacon  would  have  a  closer  scholarship  fostered, 
and  natural  science  prosecuted?  The  text  of  the  Opus 
minus  is  broken  at  this  point,  and  one  cannot  say  whether 
Bacon  had  still  a  seventh  peccatum  to  allege,  or  whether  the 
series  ended  with  the  second  of  the  vices  into  which  he 
divided  the  sixth. 

Bacon's  strictures  upon  the  errors  of  his  time  were 
connected  with  his  labours  to  remedy  them,  and  win  a 
firmer  knowledge  than  dialectic  could  supply.  To  this  end 
he  advocated  the  study  of  the  ancient  languages,  which  he 
held  to  be  "  the  first  door  of  wisdom,  and  especially  for 
the  Latins,  who  have  not  the  text,  either  of  theology  or 
philosophy,  except  from  foreign  languages." l  His  own 
knowledge  of  Greek  was  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  read 
passages  in  that  tongue,  and  to  compose  a  Greek  grammar.2 
But  he  shows  no  interest  in  the  classical  Greek  literature, 
nor  is  there  evidence  of  his  having  studied  any  important 
Greek  philosopher  in  the  original.  He  was  likewise 
zealous  for  the  study  of  Hebrew,  Chaldee,  and  Arabic,  the 
other  foreign  tongues  which  held  the  learning  so  inade- 
quately represented  by  Latin  versions.  He  spoke  with 
some  exaggeration  of  the  demerits  of  the  existing  transla- 
tions ; 3  but  he  recognised  the  arduousness  of  the  translator's 
task,  from  diversity  of  idiom  and  the  difficulty  of  finding  an 
equivalent  in  Latin  for  the  statements,  for  example,  in  the 
Greek.  The  Latin  vocabulary  often  proved  inadequate ; 
and  words  had  to  be  taken  bodily  from  the  original  tongue. 
Likewise  he  saw,  and  so  had  others,  though  none  had 
declared  it  so  clearly,  that  the  translator  should  not  only 
be  master  of  the  two  languages,  but  have  knowledge  of 
the  subject  treated  by  the  work  to  be  translated.4 

After  the  languages,  Bacon  urged  the  pursuit  of  the 
sciences,  which  he  conceived  to  be  interdependent  and 
corroborative ;  the  conclusions  of  each  of  them  susceptible 
of  proof  by  the  methods  and  data  of  the  others, 

1   Opus  tertium,  p.  102.  2  Ante,  p.  128. 

3  As,  e.g.  where  he  says  that  it  would  have  been  better  for  the  Latins  ' '  that 
the  wisdom  of  Aristotle  should  not  have  been   translated,   than   to  have  been 
translated  with   such  perverseness  and    obscurity."       Compend.  studii,   p.  469, 
(Brewer). 

4  See  Opus  majus,  pars  iii. 


CHAP.  XLI  ROGER  BACON 


499 


"Next  to  languages,"  says  Bacon  in  chapter  xxix.  of  the 
Opus  tertium,  "  I  hold  mathematics  necessary  in  the  second  place, 
to  the  end  that  we  may  know  what  may  be  known.  It  is  not 
planted  in  us  by  nature,  yet  is  closest  to  inborn  knowledge,  of  all 
the  sciences  which  we  know  through  discovery  and  learning 
(tnventionem  et  doctrinam).  For  its  study  is  easier  than  all  other 
sciences,  and  boys  learn  its  branches  readily.  Besides,  the  laity 
can  make  diagrams,  and  calculate,  and  sing,  and  use  musical 
instruments.  All  these  are  the  opera  of  mathematics." 

Thus,  with  antique  and  mediaeval  looseness,  Bacon  con- 
ceived this  science.  He  devotes  to  it  the  long  Pars  quarto, 
of  the  Opus  majus :  saying  at  the  beginning  that  of — 

"the  four  great  sciences  the  gate  and  key  is  mathematics,  which 
the  saints  found  out  (invenerunf)  from  the  beginning  of  the  world, 
and  used  more  than  all  the  other  sciences.  Its  neglect  for  the 
past  thirty  or  forty  years  has  ruined  the  studies  (studium)  of  the 
Latins.  For  whoso  is  ignorant  of  it  cannot  know  the  other  sciences, 
nor  the  things  of  this  world.  But  knowledge  of  this  science 
prepares  the  mind  and  lifts  it  to  the  tested  cognition  (certificatam 
cognitionem)  of  all  things." 

Bacon  adduces  authorities  to  prove  the  need  of  mathe- 
matics for  the  study  of  grammar  and  logic  ;  he  shows  that 
its  processes  reach  indubitable  certitude  of  truth  ;  and  "  if  in 
other  sciences  we  would  reach  certitude  free  from  doubt,  and 
truth  without  error,  we  must  set  the  foundations  of  cognition 
in  mathematics." l  He  points  out  its  obvious  necessity  in 
the  study  of  the  heavens,  and  in  everything  pertaining  to 
speculative  and  practical  astrologia ;  also  for  the  study  of 
physics  and  optics.  Thus  his  interest  lay  chiefly  in  its 
application.  As  human  science  is  nought  unless  it  may 
be  applied  to  things  divine,  mathematics  must  find  its 
supreme  usefulness  in  its  application  to  the  matters  of 
theology.  It  should  aid  us  in  ascertaining  the  position  of 
paradise  and  hell,  and  promote  our  knowledge  of  Scriptural 
geography,  and  more  especially,  sacred  chronology.  Next 
it  affords  us  knowledge  of  the  exact  forms  of  things 
mentioned  in  Scripture,  like  the  ark,  the  tabernacle,  and 
the  temple,  so  that  from  an  accurate  ascertainment  of  the 
literal  sense,  the  true  spiritual  meaning  may  be  deduced. 

i   Opus  majus,  Bridges,  vol.  i.  p.  106. 


500  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

It  should  not  be  confused  with  its  evil  namesake  magic,1 
yet  the  true  science  is  useful  in  determining  the  influence 
of  the  stars  on  the  fortunes  of  states.  Moreover,  mathe- 
matics, through  astrology,  is  of  great  importance  in  the 
certification  of  the  faith,  strengthening  it  against  the  sect 
of  Antichrist ; 2  then  in  the  correction  of  the  Church's 
calendar ;  and  finally,  as  all  things  and  regions  of  the 
earth  are  affected  by  the  heavens,  astrology  and  mathematics 
are  pertinent  to  a  consideration  of  geography.  And  Bacon 
•concludes  Pars  quarta  with  an  elaborate  description  of  the 
regions,  countries,  and  cities  of  the  known  world. 

Bacon  likewise  was  profoundly  interested  in  optics,  the 
scientia  perspectiva,  which  he  sets  forth  elaborately  in  Pars 
quinta  of  the  Opus  majus.  Much  space  would  be  needed 
to  discuss  his  theories  of  light  and  vision,  and  the  propaga- 
tion of  physical  force,  treated  in  the  De  multiplicatione 
specierum.  He  knew  all  that  was  to  be  learned  from 
Greek  and  Arabic  sources,  and,  unlike  Albert,  who  com- 
piled much  of  the  same  material,  he  used  his  knowledge 
to  build  with.  Bacon  had  a  genius  for  these  sciences :  his 
Scientia  perspectiva  is  no  mere  compilation,  and  no  work 
used  by  him  presented  either  a  theory  of  force  or  of  vision, 
containing  as  many  adumbrations  of  later  theorizing.8  Yet 
he  fails  to  cast  off  his  obsession  with  the  "  spiritual  meaning  " 
and  the  utility  of  science  for  theology.  He  discussed  the 
composition  of  Adam's  body  while  in  a  state  of  innocence,4 
a  point  that  may  seem  no  more  tangible  than  Thomas's 
reasonings  upon  the  movements  of  Angels,  which  Bacon 
ridicules.  Again  in  his  Optics,  after  an  interesting  dis- 
cussion of  refraction  and  reflection,  he  cannot  forego  a 
consideration  of  the  spiritual  significations  of  refracted  rays.5 
Even  his  discussion  of  experimental  science  has  touches 
of  mediaevalism,  which  are  peculiarly  dissonant  in  this  most 
original  and  "  advanced  "  product  of  Bacon's  genius,  which 
now  must  be  considered  more  specifically. 

1  Commonly  called  "  mathematical' 

2  Opus  majus  (Bridges,  i.  p.  253).      Bacon  goes  into  this  matter  elaborately. 

3  Cf.   S.   Vogl,  Die  Physik  Roger  Bacos  (Erlangen,    1906).      Gives  Bacon's- 
sources. 

*  Opus  minus,  pp.  367-371. 

5  Opus  majus,  pars  v.  dist.  iii.  (Bridges,  ii.  p.  159  sqq.}. 


CHAP.  XLI  ROGER  BACON 


501 


The  speculative  intellect  of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth 
centuries  was  so  widely  absorbed  with  the  matter  and 
methods  of  the  dominant  scholasticism,  that  no  one  is  likely 
to  think  of  the  eminent  scholastics  as  isolated  phenomena. 
Plainly  they  were  but  as  the  highest  peaks  which  somewhat 
overtop  the  other  mountains,  through  whose  aggregation 
and  support  they  were  lifted  to  their  supreme  altitude. 
But  with  Bacon  the  danger  is  real  lest  he  seem  separate 
and  unsupported  ;  for  the  influences  which  helped  to  make 
him  are  not  over-evident  Yet  he  did  not  make  himself. 
The  directing  of  his  attention  to  linguistics  is  sufficiently 
accounted  for  by  the  influence  of  Grosseteste  and  others, 
who  had  inaugurated  the  study  of  Greek,  and  perhaps 
Hebrew  at  Oxford.  As  for  physics  or  optics,  others  also 
were  interested — or  there  would  have  been  no  translations 
of  Greek  and  Arabic  treatises  for  him  to  use ;  *  and  in 
mathematics  there  was  a  certain  older  contemporary, 
Jordanus  Nemorarius  (not  to  mention  Leonardo  Fibonacci), 
who  far  overtopped  him.  It  is  safe  to  assume  that  in  the 
thirteenth,  as  in  the  twelfth  and  previous  centuries,  there 
were  men  who  studied  the  phenomena  of  nature.  But  they 
have  left  scant  record.  A  period  is  remembered  by  those 
features  of  its  main  accomplishment  which  are  not  super- 
seded or  obliterated  by  the  further  advance  of  later  times. 
Nothing  has  obliterated  the  work  of  the  scholastics  for 
those  who  may  still  care  for  such  reasonings  ;  and  Aquinas 
to-day  holds  sway  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  sparse  footprints  of  the  mediaeval  men 
who  essayed  the  paths  of  natural  science  have  long  since 
been  trodden  out  by  myriad  feet  passing  far  beyond  them, 
along  those  ways.  Yet  there  were  these  wayfarers,  who 
made  little  stir  in  their  own  time,  and  have  long  been 
well  forgotten.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  letter  from  Pope 
Clement,  Bacon  himself  might  be  among  them  ;  and  only 
his  writings  keep  from  utter  oblivion  the  name  of  an 

1  A  contemporary  of  Bacon  named  Witelo  composed  a  Persfectiva  about 
1270,  following  an  Arab  source  ;  and  a  few  years  later  a  Dominican,  Theodoric 
of  Freiburg,  was  devoted  to  optics,  and  wrote  on  light,  colour,  and  the  rainbow. 
Baeumker,  "  Witelo,  ein  Philosoph  und  Naturforscher  des  XIII.  Jahrh."  (Beitragt, 
etc.,  Munster,  1908)  ;  Krebs,  "  Meister  Dietrich,  sein  Leben,  etc."  (Baeumker's 
Beitrage,  1906). 


502  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

individual  who,  according  to  Bacon,  carried  the  practice 
of  "  experimental  science "  further  than  he  could  hope  to 
do.  It  may  be  fruitful  to  approach  Bacon's  presentation  of 
this  science,  or  scientific  method,  through  his  references 
to  this  extraordinary  Picard,  named  Peter  of  Maharncuria, 
or  Maricourt. 

In  the  Opus  tertium,  Bacon  has  been  considering  optics 
and  mathematics,  and  has  spoken  of  this  Peter  as  proficient 
in  them  ;  and  thus  he  opens  chapter  xiii.,  which  is  devoted 
to  the  scientia  experimentalis  : 

"  But  beyond  these  sciences  is  one  more  perfect  than  all,  which 
all  serve,  and  which  in  a  wonderful  way  certifies  them  all :  this  is 
called  the  experimental  science,  which  neglects  arguments,  since  they 
do  not  make  certain,  however  strong  they  may  be,  unless  at  the 
same  time  there  is  present  the  experientia  of  the  conclusion.  Ex- 
perimental science  teaches  experiri,  that  is,  to  test,  by  observation 
or  experiment,  the  lofty  conclusions  of  all  sciences."  This  science 
none  but  Master  Peter  knows. 

By  following  the  text  further,  we  may  be  able  to 
appreciate  what  Bacon  will  shortly  say  of  him  : 

"  Another  dignity  of  this  science  is  that  it  attests  these  noble 
truths  in  terms  of  the  other  sciences,  which  they  cannot  prove  or 
investigate :  like  the  prolongation  of  human  life ;  for  this  truth  is 
in  terms  of  medicine,  but  the  art  of  medicine  never  extends  itself 
to  this  truth,  nor  is  there  anything  about  it  in  medical  treatises. 
But  the  fidelis  experimentator  has  considered  that  the  eagle,  and  the 
stag,  and  the  serpent,  and  the  phoenix  prolong  life,  and  renew  their 
youth,  and  knows  that  these  things  are  given  to  brutes  for  the  in- 
struction of  men.  Wherefore  he  has  thought  out  noble  plans  (yias 
nobiles)  with  this  in  view,  and  has  commanded  alchemy  to  prepare 
a  body  of  like  constitution  (aequalis  complexionis\  that  he  may 
use  it." 

It  may  be  pertinent  to  our  estimate  of  Bacon's  experi- 
mental science  to  query  where  the  experimentator  ever 
observed  an  eagle  or  a  phoenix  renewing  its  youth,  outside 
of  the  Physiologus  ? 

"The  third  dignity  of  this  science  is  that  it  does  not  accept 
truths  in  terms  of  the  other  sciences,  yet  uses  them  as  hand- 
maids. .  .  .  And  this  science  attests  all  natural  and  artificial  data 
specifically  and  in  the  proper  province,  per  experientiam  perfectam  ; 


CHAP.  XLI  ROGER  BACON 


503 


not  through  arguments,  like  the  purely  speculative  sciences,  and  not 
through  weak  and  imperfect  experientias,  like  the  operative  sciences 
(scientiae  operativae).1  So  this  is  the  mistress  of  all,  and  the  goal 
of  all  speculation.  But  it  requires  great  expenditures  for  its  pro- 
secution ;  Aristotle,  by  Alexander's  authority,  besides  those  whom 
he  used  at  home  in  experientta,  sent  many  thousands  of  men  through 
the  world  to  examine  (ad  experiendum)  the  natures  and  properties 
of  all  things,  as  Pliny  tells.  And  certainly  to  set  on  fire  at  any 
distance  would  cost  more  than  a  thousand  marks,  before  adequate 
glasses  could  be  prepared;  but  they  would  be  worth  an  army 
against  the  Turks  and  Saracens.  For  the  perfect  experimenter 
could  destroy  any  hostile  force  by  this  combustion  through  the  sun's 
rays.  This  is  a  marvellous  thing,  yet  there  are  many  other  things 
more  wonderful  in  this  science ;  but  very  few  people  are  devoted 
to  it,  from  lack  of  money.  I  know  but  one,  who  deserves  praise  for 
the  prosecution  of  its  works ;  he  cares  not  for  wordy  controversies, 
but  prosecutes  the  works  of  wisdom,  and  in  them  rests.  So  what 
others  as  purblind  men  try  to  see,  like  bats  in  the  twilight,  he 
views  in  the  full  brightness  of  day,  because  he  is  dominus  experi- 
mentorum.  He  knows  natural  matters  per  experientiam,  and  those 
of  medicine  and  alchemy,  and  all  things  celestial  and  below.  He 
is  ashamed  if  any  layman,  or  old  woman,  or  knight,  or  rustic,  knows 
what  he  does  not.  He  has  studied  everything  in  metal  castings, 
and  gold  and  silver  work,  and  the  use  of  other  metals  and  minerals  ; 
he  knows  everything  pertaining  to  war  and  arms  and  hunting ;  he 
has  examined  into  agriculture  and  surveying ;  also  into  the  experi- 
ments and  fortune-tellings  of  old  women,  knows  the  spells  of  wizards  ; 
likewise  the  tricks  and  devices  of  jugglers.  In  fine,  nothing  escapes 
him  that  he  ought  to  know,  and  he  knows  how  to  expose  the  frauds 
of  magic." 

It  is  impossible  to  complete  philosophy,  usefully  and 
with  certitude,  without  Peter  ;  but  he  is  not  to  be  had  for 
a  price  ;  he  could  have  had  every  honour  from  princes  ;  and 
if  he  wished  to  publish  his  works,  the  whole  world  of  Paris 
would  follow  him.  But  he  cares  not  a  whit  for  honours  or 
riches,  though  he  could  get  them  any  time  he  chose  through 
his  wisdom.  This  man  has  worked  at  such  a  burning-glass 
for  three  years,  and  soon  will  perfect  it  by  the  grace  of  God. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  Roger  Bacon  in  these  curious 
passages  ;  much  of  his  inductive  genius,  much  of  his  sanguine 
hopefulness,  not  to  say  inventive  imagination  ;  and  enough 
of  his  credulity.  No  one  ever  knew  or  could  perform  all  he 

1  With   Bacon,  experientia  does  not  always  mean  observation;    and  may 
mean  either  experience  or  experiment. 


504  THE   MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

ascribes  to  this  astounding  Peter,  from  whom,  apparently, 
there  is  extant  a  certain  intelligent  treatise  upon  the  magnet.1 
And  as  for  those  burning-glasses,  or  possibly  reflectors,  by 
which  distant  fleets  and  armies  should  be  set  afire — did  they 
ever  exist  ?  Did  Archimedes  ever  burn  with  them  the  Roman 
ships  at  Syracuse  ?  Were  they  ever  more  than  a  myth  ? 
It  is,  at  all  events,  safe  to  say  that  no  device  from  the  hand 
and  brain  of  Peter  of  Maharncuria  ever  threatened  Turk  or 
Saracen. 

It  is  knowledge  that  gives  insight.  Modern  critical 
methods  amount  chiefly  to  this,  that  we  know  more.  Bacon 
did  not  have  such  knowledge  of  animal  physiology  as  would 
assure  him  of  the  absurdity  of  the  notion  that  an  eagle  or 
any  animal  could  renew  its  youth.  Nor  did  he  know  enough 
to  realise  the  vast  improbability  of  Greek  philosophers  draw- 
ing their  knowledge  from  the  books  of  Hebrew  prophets. 
And  one  sees  how  loose  must  have  been  the  practice,  or  the 
dreams,  of  his  "experimental  science."  His  fundamental 
conception  seems  to  waver :  Scientia  experimentalis,  is  it  a 
science,  or  is  it  a  means  and  method  universally  applicable 
to  all  scientific  investigation  ?  The  sciences  serve  it  as 
handmaids,  says  Bacon  ;  and  he  also  says,  that  it  alone  can 
test  and  certify,  make  sure  and  certain,  the  conclusions  of 
the  other  sciences.  Perhaps  he  thought  it  the  master-key 
fitting  all  the  doors  of  knowledge  ;  and  held  that  all  sciences, 
so  far  as  possible,  should  proceed  from  experience,  through 
further  observation  and  experiment.  But  he  has  not  said 
quite  this. 

He  is  little  to  be  blamed  for  his  vagueness,  and  greatly 
to  be  admired  for  having  reached  his  possibly  inconsistent 
conception.  Observation  and  experiment  were  as  old  as 
human  thought  upon  human  experience.  And  Albert  the 
Great  says  that  the  conclusions  of  all  sciences  should  be 
tested  by  them.  But  he  evinces  no  formal  conception  of 
either  an  experimental  science  or  method  ;  though  he  has 
much  to  say  as  to  logic,  and  ponderously  considers  whether 
it  is  a  science  or  the  means  or  method  of  all  sciences.2 

1  See  Charles,  Roger  Bacon,  pp.  17-18. 

2  Ante,  pp.  313-315.     Duns  Scotus  puts  clearly  the  double  aspect  of  logic, 
which  Albertus  Magnus  approached:    "It  should  be  understood   that  logic  is 
to  be  considered  in  two  ways.     First,  in  so  far  as  it  is  docens  (instructs,  holds 


CHAP.  XLI  ROGER  BACON  505 

Herein  he  is  discussing  consciously  with  respect  to  logic,  the 
very  point  as  to  which  Bacon,  in  respect  to  experimental 
science,  rather  unconsciously  wavers  :  is  it  a  science,  and 
almost  the  queen  ?  Or  is  it  the  true  scientific  method  to  be 
followed  by  all  sciences  when  applicable  ? l  Bacon  had  no 
high  regard  for  the  study  of  logic,  deeming  that  the  thoughts 
of  untaught  men  naturally  followed  its  laws.2  This  was 
doubtless  true,  and  just  as  true,  moreover,  of  experimental 

its  own  school)  :  and  from  its  own  necessary  and  proper  principles  proceeds  to 
necessary  conclusions,  and  is  therefore  a  science.  Secondly,  in  so  far  as  we 
use  it,  by  applying  it  to  those  matters  in  which  it  is  used  :  and  then  it  is  not 
a  science"  (Super  universalia  Porphyrii,  Quaestrio  i.,  Duns  Scotus,  Ofera^ 
t.  i.  p.  50. 

1  The   two   aspects  of  the  experimental   science   appear   in    the   following 
statement  from  the  Gasquet  Fragment:   "The  antcpenultima  science  is  called 
experimental ;  and  is  the  mistress  of  those  which  precede  it ;  for  it  excels  the 
others  in  three  chief  prerogatives.     One  is  that  all  the  sciences  except  this  either 
use   arguments   alone   to   prove   their  conclusions,  like   the   purely  speculative 
sciences,  or  possess  general  and  imperfect  experiences.     But  only  the   perfect 
experience  (experientia  perfecta,  i.e.  the  scientific  experiment  or  observation),  sets 
the  mind  at  rest  in  the  light  of  truth  ;  which  is  certain  and  is  proved  in  that  part 
[of  my  work].     Wherefore  it  was  necessary  that   there  should   be  one  science 
which  should  certify  for  us,  all  the  magnificent    truths   of  the   other  sciences, 
through  the  truth  of  experience,  and  this  is  that  whereof  I  say  that  it  is  called 
scientia  experimentalis  of  its  own  right  from  the  truth  of  experience  (per  autono- 
masiam  ab  experienciae  veritate) ;  and  I  show  by  the  illustration  of  the  rainbow 
and  other  things,  how  this  prerogative  is  reserved  to  that  science. 

"The  second  prerogative  is  the  dignity  which  relates  to  those  chief  truths 
which,  although  they  are  to  be  formulated  (nontinandae)  in  the  terms  (voeabulis) 
of  the  other  sciences,  yet  the  other  sciences  cannot  furnish  (procurart)  them ;  and 
of  this  character  are  the  prolongation  of  life  through  remedies  to  counteract  the 
lack  of  a  hygienic  regimen  from  infancy,  or  constitutional  debility  inherited 
from  parents  who  have  not  followed  such  a  regimen.  I  shall  show  how  it  is 
possible  thus  to  prolong  life  to  the  term  set  by  God.  But  men,  through  neglecting 
the  rules  of  health,  pass  quickly  to  old  age,  and  die  before  reaching  that  term. 
The  art  of  medicine  is  not  able  to  furnish  (dare)  these  remedies,  nor  does  it ;  but 
it  says  they  are  possible  (sed  fatctur  ea  possibilia),  and  so  experimental  science 
has  devised  remedies  known  to  the  wisest  men  alone,  by  which  the  ills  of  old  age 
are  delayed,  or  are  mitigated  when  they  arrive. 

"  The  third  prerogative  of  this  science  belongs  to  it  secundum  se  et  absolute ; 
for  here  it  leaves  the  two  ways  already  touched  on,  and  addresses  itself  to  all 
things  which  do  not  concern  the  other  sciences,  save  that  often  it  requires  the 
service  of  the  others.  As  a  mistress  it  commands  the  others  as  servants  .  .  . 
and  orders  them  to  do  its  work,  and  furnish  the  wise  instruments  which  it  uses ; 
as  navigation  directs  the  art  of  carpentry,  to  make  a  ship  for  it ;  and  the  military 
art  directs  the  forger's  art  to  make  it  a  breastplate  and  other  arms.  In  like 
manner,  this  science  [the  experimental],  as  a  mistress,  directs  geometry  to  m»ke 
it  a  burning-glass,  which  shall  set  on  fire  things  near  or  far,  one  of  the  mo«t 
sublime  wonders  that  can  come  to  pass  through  geometry.  So  it  commands 
the  other  sciences  in  all  the  wonderful  and  hidden  things  of  nature  and  art " 
(pp.  510-511). 

2  Opus  tertium,  chap,  xxviii. 


506  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

science  as  of  logic.  The  one  and  the  other  were  built  up 
from  the  ways  of  the  common  man  and  universal  processes 
of  thought.  Yet  the  logic  of  the  trained  mind  is  the  surer  ; 
and  so  experimental  science  may  reach  out  beyond  the  crude 
observations  of  unscientific  men. 

Manifestly  with  Roger  Bacon  the  scientia  experimentalis 
held  the  place  which  logic  held  with  Albert,  or  queenly 
dialectic  with  Abaelard.  He  repeats  himself  continually  in 
stating  its  properties  and  prerogatives,  yet  without  advancing 
to  greater  clearness  of  conception.  Pars  sexta  of  the  Opus 
majus  is  devoted  to  it :  and  we  may  take  one  last  glance  to 
see  whether  the  statements  there  throw  any  further  light 
upon  the  matter. 

"The  roots  of  the  wisdom  of  the  Latins  having  been  placed 
and  set  in  Languages,  Mathematics,  and  Perspective,  I  now  wish  to 
re-examine  these  radices  from  the  side  of  scientia  experimentalis  ; 
because,  without  experientia  nothing  can  be  known  adequately. 
There  are  two  modes  of  arriving  at  knowledge  (cognoscendf),  to  wit, 
argument  and  experimentum.  Argument  draws  a  conclusion  and 
forces  us  to  concede  it,  but  does  not  make  it  certain  or  remove 
doubt,  so  that  the  mind  may  rest  in  the  perception  of  truth,  unless 
the  mind  find  truth  by  the  way  of  experience." 

And  Bacon  says,  as  illustration,  that  you  could  never 
by  mere  argument  convince  a  man  that  fire  would  burn  ; 
also  that  "  in  spite  of  the  demonstration  of  the  properties  of 
an  equilateral  triangle,  the  mind  would  not  stick  to  the 
conclusion  sine  experientia" 

After  referring  to  Aristotle,  and  adducing  some  examples 
of  foolish  things  believed  by  learned  and  common  men 
alike,  because  they  had  not  applied  the  tests  of  observation, 
he  concludes :  "  Oportet  ergo  omnia  certificari  per  viam 
experientiae."  He  continues  with  something  unexpected  : 

"  Sed  duplex  est  experientia :  one  is  through  the  external  senses, 
and  thus  those  experimenta  take  place  which  are  made  through 
suitable  instruments  in  astronomy,  and  by  the  tests  of  observation 
as  to  things  below.  And  whatever  like  matters  may  not  be 
observed  by  us,  we  know  from  other  wise  men  who  have  observed 
them.  This  experientia  is  human  and  philosophical ;  but  it  is 
not  sufficient  for  man,  because  it  does  not  give  plenary  assurance  as 
to  things  corporeal ;  and  as  to  things  spiritual  it  reaches  nothing. 
The  intellect  of  man  needs  other  aid,  and  so  the  holy  patriarchs 


CHAP.  XLI  ROGER  BACON  507 

and  prophets,  who  first  gave  the  sciences  to  the  world,  received 
inner  illuminations  and  did  not  stand  on  sense  alone.  Likewise 
many  believers  after  Christ.  For  the  grace  of  faith  illuminates 
much,  and  divine  inspirations,  not  only  in  spiritual  but  corporeal 
things,  and  in  the  sciences  of  philosophy.  As  Ptolemy  says,  the 
way  of  coming  to  a  knowledge  of  things  is  duplex,  one  through  the 
experientia  of  philosophy,  and  the  other  through  divine  inspiration, 
which  is  much  better." l 

Any  doubt  as  to  the  religious  and  Christian  meaning  of 
the  last  passage  is  removed  by  Bacon's  statement  of  the 

"  seven  grades  of  this  inner  science :  the  first  is  through  illumina- 
tiones  pure  scientiales ;  the  next  consists  in  virtues,  for  the  bad 
man  is  ignorant ;  .  .  .  the  third  is  in  the  seven  gifts  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  which  Isaiah  enumerates ;  the  fourth  is  in  the 
beatitudes  which  the  Lord  defines  in  the  Gospel ;  the  fifth  is  in  the 
sensibus  spiritualibus ;  the  sixth  is  in  fructibus,  from  which  is  the 
peace  of  God  which  passes  omnem  sensum  •  the  seventh  consists  in 
raptures  (in  raptibus)  and  their  modes,  as  in  various  ways  divers 
men  have  been  enraptured,  so  that  they  saw  many  things  which  it  is 
not  lawful  for  man  to  tell.  And  who  is  diligently  exercised  in  these 
experiences,  or  some  of  them,  can  certify  both  to  himself  and  others 
not  only  as  to  spiritual  things,  but  as  to  all  human  sciences."  • 

These  utterances  are  religious,  and  bring  us  back  to  the 
religious,  or  practical,  motive  of  Bacon's  entire  endeavour 
after  knowledge :  knowledge  should  have  its  utility,  its 
practical  bearing ;  and  the  ultimate  utility  is  that  which 
promotes  a  sound  and  saving  knowledge  of  God.  The  true 
method  of  research,  says  Bacon  in  the  Compendium  studii, 

" .  .  .  is  to  study  first  what  properly  comes  first  in  any  science,  the 
easier  before  the  more  difficult,  the  general  before  the  particular, 
the  less  before  the  greater.  The  student's  business  should  lie  in 
chosen  and  useful  topics,  because  life  is  short ;  and  these  should  be 
set  forth  with  clearness  and  certitude,  which  is  impossible  without 
experientia.  Because,  although  we  know  through  three  means, 
authority,  reason,  and  experientia,  yet  authority  is  not  wise  unless 

1  Opus  majus,  pars  vi.  I  (Bridges,  ii.  p.  169). 

2  Ibid.   p.    171.     Doubtless  the   meaning  of  the  above   is  connected  with 
Bacon's  view  of  the  Aristotelian  intelltctus  agens,  which  he  takes  to  signify  the 
direct  illumination  of  the  mind  of  man  by  God.      "  All  the  wisdom  of  philosophy 
is  revealed  by  God  and  given    to  the   philosophers,   and    it   is    Himself  that 
illuminates  the  minds  of  men  in  all  wisdom.     That  which  illuminates  our  minds 
is  now  called  by  the  theologians  intellectus  agens.     But  my  position  is  that  this 
intelltctus  agens  is  God  printipaliter,  and  secondarily,  the  angels,  who  illuminate 
us"  (Opus  (ertium,  p.  74  ;  cf.  Op,  majus,  pars  i.  chap.  v.). 


508  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

its  reason  be  given  (auctoritas  non  sapit  nisi  detur  ejus  ratio),  nor 
does  it  give  knowledge,  but  belief.  We  believe,  but  do  not  know, 
from  authority.  Nor  can  reason  distinguish  sophistry  from 
demonstration,  unless  we  know  that  the  conclusion  is  attested 
by  facts  (experiri  per  opera].  Yet  the  fruits  of  study  are  insigni- 
ficant at  the  present  time,  and  the  secret  and  great  matters  of 
wisdom  are  unknown  to  the  crowd  of  students." l 

It  is  as  with  an  echo  of  this  thought,  that  Bacon  begins 
the  second  chapter  of  his  exposition  of  experimental  science 
in  the  sixth  part  of  the  Opus  majus,  from  which  we  have  but 
now  withdrawn  our  attention.  He  anxiously  reiterates 
what  he  has  already  said  more  than  once,  as  to  the  properties 
and  prerogatives  of  this  scientia  experimentalis.  Then  he 
gives  his  most  interesting  and  elaborate  example  of  its 
application  in  the  investigation  of  the  rainbow,  an  example 
too  lengthy  and  too  difficult  to  reproduce.  In  stating  the 
three  prerogatives,  he  makes  but  slight  change  of  phrasing  ; 
yet  his  restatement  of  the  last  of  them  : — "  The  third  dignitas 
of  this  science  is  that  it  investigates  the  secrets  of  nature  by 
its  own  competency  and  out  of  its  own  qualities,  irrespective 
of  any  connection  with  the  other  sciences," — signifies  an 
autonomous  science,  rather  than  a  method  applicable  to  all 
investigation.  The  illustrations  which  Bacon  now  gives, 
range  free  indeed  ;  yet  in  the  main  relate  to  "  useful  dis- 
coveries "  as  one  might  say :  to  ever-burning  lamps,  Greek 
fire,  explosives,  antidotes  for  poison,  and  matters  useful  to 
the  Church  and  State.  Along  these  lines  of  discovery 
through  experiment,  Bacon  lets  his  imagination  travel  and 
lead  him  on  to  surmises  of  inventions  that  long  after  him 
were  realised.  "  Machines  for  navigating  are  possible 
without  rowers,  like  great  ships  suited  to  river  or  ocean, 
going  with  greater  velocity  than  if  they  were  full  of  rowers : 
likewise  wagons  may  be  moved  cum  impetu  inaestimabili,  as 
we  deem  the  chariots  of  antiquity  to  have  been.  And  there 
may  be  flying  machines,  so  made  that  a  man  may  sit  in  the 
middle  of  the  machine  and  direct  it  by  some  devise  :  and 
again,  machines  for  raising  great  weights." 2  The  modern 
reality  has  outdone  this  mediaeval  dream. 

1  Compendium  studii  (Brewer),  p.  397. 

2  De   secretis   operibus   artis   et  naturae,    et  de  nullitate    magiae,    p.    533 
(Brewer).     Cf.  Charles,  Roger  Bacon,  p.  296  sqq. 


CHAPTER  XLII 

DUNS    SCOTUS    AND    OCCAM 

THE  thirteenth  century  was  a  time  of  potent  Church  unity, 
when  the  papacy,  triumphant  over  emperors  and  kings,  was 
drawing  further  strength  from  the  devotion  of  the  two 
Orders,  who  were  renewing  the  spiritual  energies  of  Western 
Christendom.  Scholasticism  was  still  whole  and  unbroken, 
in  spite  of  Roger  Bacon,  who  attacked  its  methods  with 
weapons  of  his  own  forging,  yet  asserting  loudly  the  single- 
eyed  subservience  of  all  the  sciences  to  theology.  This 
assertion  from  a  man  of  Bacon's  views,  was  as  vain  as  the 
Unam  sanctum  of  Pope  Boniface  VIII.,  fulminated  in  1302, 
arrogating  for  the  papacy  every  power  on  earth.  In  earlier 
decades  such  pretensions  had  been  almost  acquiesced  in  ; 
but  the  Unam  sanctam  was  a  senile  outcry  from  a  papacy 
vanquished  by  the  new-grown  power  of  the  French  king, 
sustained  by  the  awakening  of  a  French  nation. 

The  opening  years  of  the  fourteenth  century,  so  fatal  for 
the  papacy,  were  also  portentous  for  scholasticism.  The 
Summa  of  Thomas  was  impugned  by  Joannes  Duns  Scotus, 
whose  entire  work,  constructive  as  well  as  critical,  was  im- 
pressed with  qualities  of  finality,  signifying  that  in  the  forms 
of  reasoning  represented  by  him  as  well  as  Thomas,  thought 
should  advance  no  farther.  Bacon's  attack  upon  scholastic 
methods  had  proved  abortive  from  its  tactlessness  and 
confusion,  and  because  men  did  not  care  for,  and  perhaps 
did  not  understand,  his  arguments.  It  was  not  so  with  the 
arguments  of  Duns  Scotus.  Throughout  the  academic 
world,  thought  still  was  set  to  chords  of  metaphysics  ;  and 
although  men  had  never  listened  to  quite  such  dialectic 

509 


5io  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

orchestration  as  Duns  provided,  they  liked  it,  perceived  its 
motives,  and  comprehended  the  meaning  of  its  themes.  So 
his  generation  understood  and  appreciated  him.  That  he 
was  the  beginning  of  the  end  of  the  scholastic  system,  could 
not  be  known  until  the  manner  of  that  ending  had  disclosed 
itself  more  fully.  We,  however,  discern  the  symptoms  of 
scholastic  dissolution  in  his  work.  His  criticism  of  his 
predecessors  was  disintegrating,  even  when  not  destructive. 
His  own  dialectic  was  so  surpassingly  intricate  and  dizzy 
that,  like  the  choir  of  Beauvais,  it  might  some  day  collapse. 
With  Duns  Scotus,  scholasticism  reasoned  itself  out  of 
human  reach.  And  with  him  also,  the  wholeness  of  the 
scholastic  purpose  finally  broke.  For  he  no  longer  main- 
tained the  union  of  metaphysics  and  theology.  The  latter, 
to  be  sure,  was  valid  absolutely  ;  but,  from  a  speculative, 
it  has  become  a  practical  science.  It  neither  draws  its 
principles  from  metaphysics,  nor  subordinates  the  other 
sciences — all  human  knowledge — to  its  service.  Although 
rational  in  content,  it  possesses  proofs  stronger  than  dialectic, 
and  stands  on  revelation. 

There  had  always  been  men  who  maintained  similar 
propositions.  But  it  was  quite  another  matter  that  the 
severance  between  metaphysics  and  theology  should  be 
demonstrated  by  a  prodigious  metaphysical  theologian  after 
a  different  view  had  been  carried  to  its  farthest  reaches  by 
the  great  Aquinas.  Henceforth  philosophy  and  theology 
were  set  on  opposite  pinnacles,  only  with  theology's  pinnacle 
the  higher.  In  spite  of  the  last  circumstance,  the  coming 
time  showed  that  men  cannot  for  long  possess  in  peace  two 
standards  of  truth — philosophy  and  revelation  ;  but  will  be 
driven  to  hold  to  the  one  and  ignore  the  other.  By  break- 
ing the  rational  union  of  philosophy  and  theology,  Duns 
Scotus  prepared  the  way  for  Occam.  The  latter  also 
asserts  vociferously  the  superiority  of  the  divine  truth  over 
human  knowledge  and  its  reasonings.  But  the  popes 
are  at  Avignon,  and  the  Christian  world  no  longer  bows 
down  before  those  willing  Babylonian  captives.  Under 
such  a  blasted  condition  of  the  Church,  how  should  any 
inclusive  Christian  synthesis  of  thought  and  faith  be  main- 
tained ? 


CHAP.  XLII  SCOTUS  AND  OCCAM  511 

Duns  Scotus  l  could  not  have  been  what  he  was,  had  he 
not  lived  after  Thomas.  He  was  indeed  the  pinnacle  of 
scholasticism  ;  set  upon  all  the  rest.  Yet  this  pinnacle  had 
its  more  particular  supports — or  antecedents.  And  their 
special  line  may  be  noted  without  intending  thereby  to 
suggest  that  the  influences  affecting  the  thought  of  Duns 
Scotus  did  not  include  all  the  men  he  heard  or  read,  and 
criticised. 

That  Duns  Scotus  was  educated  at  Oxford,  and  became 
a  Franciscan,  and  not  a  Dominican,  had  done  much  to  set 
the  lines  of  thought  reflected  in  his  doctrines.  Anselm  of 
Aosta,  of  Bee,  of  Canterbury,  had  been  an  intellectual  force 
in  England.  Duns  was  strongly  influenced  by  his  bold 
realism,  by  his  emphasis  upon  the  power  and  freedom  of  the 
will,  and  by  his  doctrine  of  the  atonement2  But  Anselm 
also  affected  Scotus  indirectly  through  the  English  worthy 
who  stands  between  them. 

This,  of  course,  was  Robert  Grosseteste,  to  whom  we 
have  had  occasion  to  refer,  yet,  despite  of  his  intrinsic 
worth,  always  in  relation  to  his  effect  on  others.  He  was  a 
great  man ;  in  his  day  a  many-sided  force,  strong  in  the 
business  of  Church  and  State,  strong  in  censuring  and 
bridling  the  wicked,  strong  in  the  guidance  of  the  young 
university  of  Oxford,  and  a  mighty  friend  of  the  Franciscan 
Order,  then  establishing  itself  there.  To  his  pupils,  and 
their  pupils  apparently,  he  was  a  fruitful  inspiration  ;  yet 
the  historian  of  thought  may  be  less  interested  in  the  master 
than  in  certain  of  these  pupils  who  brought  to  explicit  form 
divers  matters  which  in  Grosseteste  seem  to  have  been  but 
inchoate.3  One  thinks  immediately  of  Roger  Bacon,  who 
was  his  pupil ;  and  then  of  Duns,  the  metaphysician,  who 
possibly  may  have  listened  to  some  aged  pupil  of  Grosseteste. 
In  different  ways,  Duns  as  well  as  Bacon  took  much  from 
the  master.  And  it  is  possible  to  see  how  the  great  teacher 

1  The  most  convenient  edition  of  the  works  of  Joannes  Duns  Scotus  is  that 
published  by  Vives,  at  Paris  (1891  sgg.)  in  twenty-six  volumes.     It  is  little  more 
than  a  reprint  of  Wadding's  Edition. 

2  See  Seeberg,  Die  Theologie  des  Johannes  Duns  Scofus  (Leipzig,  1900),  p.  8 
sqq.,  a  work  to  which  the  following  pages  owe  much. 

3  Grosseteste's  philosophical   or  theological  works  are  still  unpublished   or 
very  difficult  of  access  ;  and  there  is  no  sufficient  exposition  of  his  doctrines. 


512  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

and  bishop  may  have  incited  the  genius  of  Scotus  as  well  as 
that  of  Bacon  to  perform  its  task.  For  Grosseteste  was  a 
rarely  capable  and  clear-eyed  man,  honest  and  resolute,  who 
with  the  entire  strength  of  a  powerful  personality  insisted 
upon  going  to  the  heart  of  every  proposition,  and  testing  its 
validity  by  the  surest  means  obtainable.  By  virtue  of  his 
training  and  intellectual  inheritance,  he  was  an  Augustinian 
and  a  Platonist ;  a  successor  of  Anselm,  rather  than  a  pre- 
decessor of  the  great  Dominican  Aristotelians.  He  was 
accordingly  an  emphatic  realist,  yet  one  who  would  co- 
ordinate the  reality  of  his  "  universals "  with  the  reality  of 
experience.  Even  had  he  not  been  an  Augustinian,  such  a 
masterful  character  would  have  realised  the  power  of  the 
human  will,  and  felt  the  practical  insistencies  of  the  art  of 
human  salvation,  which  was  the  science  of  theology. 

Views  like  these  prevailed  at  Oxford.  They  may  be 
found  clearly  stated  by  Richard  of  Middleton,  an  Oxford 
Franciscan  somewhat  older  than  Duns  Scotus.  He  declares 
that  theology  is  a  practical  science,  and  emphasises  the 
primacy  and  freedom  of  the  will.  Voluntas  est  nobilissima 
potentia  in  anima.  Again  :  Voluntas  simpliciter  nobilior  est 
quant  intellectus :  the  intellect  indeed  goes  before  the  Will, 
as  the  servant  who  carries  the  candle  before  his  lord.  So 
the  idea  of  the  Good,  toward  which  the  Will  directs  itself,  is 
higher  than  that  of  the  True,  which  is  the  object  of  the 
mind  ;  and  loving  is  greater  than  knowing.1  Roger  Bacon 
had  also  held  that  Will  (Voluntas')  was  higher  than  the 
knowing  faculty  (intellectus'}  ;  and  so  did  Henry 'of  Ghent,2 
a  man  of  the  Low  Countries,  doctor  solemnis  hight,  and  a 
ruling  spirit  at  the  Paris  University  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
'thirteenth  century.  Many  of  his  doctrines  substantially 
resembled  those  of  Scotus,  although  attacked  by  him. 

So  we  seem  to  see  the  pit  in  which  Duns  may  have 
digged.  This  man,  who  was  no  mere  fossor,  but  a  builder, 
and  might  have  deserved  the  name  of  Poliorcetes,  as  the 
overthrower  of  many  bulwarks,  has  left  few  traces  of  himself, 
beyond  his  twenty  tomes  of  metaphysics,  which  contain  no 
personal  references  to  their  author.  The  birthplace  of 

1  Seeberg,  o.c.  p.  16  sqq. 
8  See  De  Wulf,  History  of  Medieval  Philosophy ;  p.  363  sqq. 


CHAP,  xui  SCOTUS  AND  OCCAM  513 

Johannes  Duns  Scotus,  whether  in  Scotland,  England  or 
Ireland,  is  unknown.  The  commonly  accepted  date,  1274, 
probably  should  be  abandoned  for  an  earlier  year.  It  is 
known  that  he  was  a  Franciscan,  and  that  the  greater  part 
of  his  life  as  student  and  teacher  was  passed  at  Oxford. 
In  a  letter  of  commendation,  written  by  the  General  of  his 
Order  in  1 304,  he  is  already  termed  subtilissimus.  He  was 
then  leaving  for  Paris,  where,  two  or  three  years  later,  in 
1 307,  he  was  made  a  Doctor.  The  following  year  he  was 
sent  to  Cologne,  and  there  he  died  an  enigmatical  death  on 
November  8,  1 308.  Report  has  it  that  he  was  buried  alive 
while  in  a  trance.1  Probably  there  was  little  to  tell  of  the 
life  of  Duns  Scotus.  His  personality,  as  well  as  his  career, 
seems  completely  included  and  exhausted  in  his  works.  Yet 
back  of  them,  besides  a  most  acutely  reasoning  mind,  lay  an 
indomitable  will.  The  man  never  faltered  in  his  labour  any 
more  than  his  reasoning  wavered  in  its  labyrinthic  course  to 
its  conclusions.  His  learning  was  complete  :  he  knew  the 
Bible  and  the  Fathers  ;  he  was  a  master  of  theology,  of 
philosophy,  of  astronomy,  and  mathematics. 

The  constructive  processes  of  his  genius  appear  to  issue 
out  of  the  action  of  its  critical  energies.  Duns  was  the  most 
penetrating  critic  produced  by  scholasticism.  Whatever  he 
considered  from  the  systems  of  other  men  he  subjected  to 
tests  that  were  apt  to  leave  the  argument  in  tatters.  No 
logical  inconsequence  escaped  him.  And  when  every  point 
had  been  examined  with  respect  to  its  rational  consistency, 
this  dialectic  genius  was  inclined  to  bring  the  matter  to  the 
bar  of  psychological  experience.  On  the  other  hand  he  was 
a  churchman,  holding  that  even  as  Scripture  and  dogma  were 
above  question,  so  were  the  decrees  of  the  Church,  God's 
sanctioned  earthly  Civitas. 

Having  thus  tested  whatever  was  presented  by  human 
reason,  and  accepting  what  was  declared  by  Scripture  or  the 
Church,  Duns  proceeds  to  build  out  his  doctrine  as  the  case 
may  call  for.  No  man  ever  drove  either  constructive  logic 
or  the  subtilties  of  critical  distinctions  closer  to  the  limits  of 
human  comprehension  or  human  patience  than  Duns  Scotus. 
And  here  lies  the  trouble  with  him.  The  endless  ramifica- 

1  See  Seeberg,  o.c.  p.  34  sqq, 
VOL.  II  2  L 


514  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

tion  and  refinement  of  his  dialectic,  his  devious  processes 
of  conclusion,  make  his  work  a  reductio  ad  absurdum  of 
scholastic  ways  of  reasoning.  Logically,  eristically,  the 
argumentation  is  inerrant.  It  never  wanders  aimlessly,  but 
winding  and  circling,  at  last  it  reaches  a  conclusion  from 
some  point  unforeseen.  Would  you  run  a  course  with  this 
master  of  the  syllogism  ?  If  you  enter  his  lists,  you  are  lost. 
The  right  way  to  attack  him,  is  to  stand  without,  and  laugh. 
That  is  what  was  done  afterwards,  when  whoever  cared  for 
such  reasonings  was  called  a  Dunce,  after  the  name  of  this 
most  subtle  of  mediaeval  metaphysicians. 

Thus  a  man  is  judged  by  his  form  and  method,  and  by 
the  bulk  of  his  accomplishment.  Form,  method,  bulk  of 
accomplishment,  with  Scotus  were  preposterous.  When  the 
taste  or  mania  for  such  dialectics  passed  away,  this  kind  of 
form,  this  maze  of  method,  this  hopelessness  of  bulk,  made 
an  unfit  vehicle  for  a  philosophy  of  life.  Men  would  not 
search  it  through  to  find  the  living  principles.  Yet  living 
principles  were  there  ;  or,  at  least,  tenable  and  consistent 
views.  The  main  positions  of  Duns  Scotus,  some  of  which 
he  held  in  opposition  to  Thomas,  may  strike  us  as  quite 
reasonable  :  we  may  be  inclined  to  agree  with  him.  Perhaps 
it  will  surprise  us  to  find  sane  doctrine  so  well  hidden  in 
such  dialectic. 

He  held,  for  example,  that  there  is  no  real  difference 
between  the  soul  and  its  faculties.  Thomas  never  demon- 
strated the  contrary  quite  satisfactorily.  Again,  Duns  Scotus 
was  a  realist :  the  Idea  exists,  since  it  is  conceived.  For 
the  intellect  is  passive,  and  is  moved  by  the  intelligible. 
Therefore  the  Universal  must  be  a  something,  in  order  to 
occasion  the  conception  of  it  Thus  the  reality  of  the 
concept  proves  the  actuality  of  the  Idea.1  Duns  adds 
further  explanations  and  distinctions  regarding  the  actuality 
of  universals,  which  are  somewhat  beyond  the  comprehension 

1  The  kernel  of  Duns's  proof  is  contained  in  the  following  passage,  which  is 
rather  simple  in  its  Scotian  Latin  :  "  Dicendum,  quod  Universale  est  ens,  quia 
sub  ratione  non  entis,  nihil  intelligitur  :  quia  intelligibile  movet  intellectum. 
Cum  enim  intellectus  sit  virtus  passiva  (per  Aristotelem  3,  de  Anima,  cont.  5  et 
inde  saepe),  non  operatur,  nisi  moveatur  ab  objecto  ;  non  ens  non  potest  movere 
aliquid  ut  objectum ;  quia  movere  est  entis  in  actu  ;  ergo  nihil  intelligitur  sub 
ratione  non  entis.  Quidquid  autem  intelligitur,  intelligitur  sub  ratione  Universalis: 
ergo  ilia  ratio  non  est  omnino  non  ens"  (Super  universalia  Porphyrii,  Quaestio  iv.). 


CHAP.  XLII  SCOTUS  AND  OCCAM  5 1 5 

of  the  modern  mind.  But  one  may  remark  that  he  reaches 
his  views  of  the  actuality  of  universals  through  analysis  of 
the  processes  of  thought.  Sense  -  perception  occasions  the 
Idea  in  us  ;  there  must  exist  some  objective  correspondence 
to  our  general  concepts,  as  there  must  also  be  in  things 
some  objective  correspondence  to  our  perception  of  them  as 
individuals,  whereby  they  become  to  us  this  or  that  individual 
thing.  Such  individual  objectivity  is  constituted  by  the 
thisness  of  the  thing,  its  haecceitas  which  is  to  be  contra- 
distinguished from  its  general  essence,  to  wit,  its  whatness, 
or  quidditas.  Duns  holds  that  we  think  individual  things 
directly  as  we  think  abstract  Ideas  ;  and  so  their  Jiaecceitas 
is  as  true  an  object  of  our  thought  as  their  quidditas.  This 
seems  a  reasonable  conclusion,  seeing  that  the  individual  and 
not  the  type  is  the  final  end  of  creation.  So  our  conceptions 
prove  for  us  the  actuality  both  of  the  universal  and  the 
concrete  ;  and  the  proof  of  one  and  the  other  is  rooted  in 
sense-perception. 

Nothing  was  of  greater  import  with  Duns  than  the 
doctrine  of  the  primacy  of  the  Will  over  the  intellect  Duns 
supports  it  with  intricate  argument  The  soul  in  substance 
is  identical  with  its  faculties  ;  but  the  latter  are  formally 
distinguishable  from  it  and  from  each  other.  Knowing  and 
willing  are  faculties  or  properties  of  the  soul.  The  will  is 
purely  spiritual,  and  to  be  distinguished  from  sense-appetite  : 
the  will,  and  the  will  alone,  is  free  ;  absolutely  undetermined 
by  any  cause  beyond  itself.  Even  the  intellect,  that  is  the 
knowing  faculty,  is  determined  from  without  Although 
some  cognition  precedes  the  act  of  willing,  the  will  is  not 
determined  by  cognition,  but  uses  it  So  the  will,  being 
free,  is  higher  than  the  intellect  It  is  the  will  that 
constitutes  man's  greatness  ;  it  raises  him  above  nature,  and 
liberates  him  from  her  coercions.  Not  the  intellect,  but  the 
will  directs  itself  toward  the  goal  of  blessedness,  and  is  the 
subject  of  the  moral  virtues.  Such  seems  to  be  Duns's  main 
position  ;  but  he  distinguishes  and  refines  the  matter  beyond 
the  limits  of  our  comprehension.1 

Another  fundamental  doctrine  with  Duns  Scotus  is  that 
theology  is  not  a  speculative,  but  a  practical,  science — a 

1  Cf.  the  far  from  clear  exposition  in  Seeberg,  o.t.  p.  86  sqq.  and  660  sqq. 


516  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

position  which  Duns  unfortunately  disproved  with  his  tomes 
of  metaphysics  !  But  in  spite  of  the  personal  reductio  ad 
absurdum  of  his  argument,  the  position  taken  by  him 
betokens  the  breaking  up  of  the  scholastic  system.  The 
subject  of  theology,  at  least  for  men,  is  the  revelation  of 
God  contained  in  Scripture.  "  Holy  Scripture  is  a  kind  of 
knowledge  (quaedam  notitia)  divinely  given  in  order  to  direct 
men  to  a  supernatural  end — in  finem  supernaturalem"  1  The 
knowledge  revealed  in  Scripture  relates  to  God's  free  will 
and  ordain ment  for  man  ;  which  is,  that  man  should  attain 
blessedness.  Therefore  the  truths  of  Scripture  are  practical, 
having  an  end  in  view  ;  they  are  such  as  are  necessary  for 
Salvation.  The  Church  has  authority  to  declare  the  meaning 
of  Scripture,  and  supplement  it  through  its  Catholic  tradition. 
Is  theology,  then,  properly  a  science  ?  Duns  will  not 
deny  it  ;  but  thinks  it  may  more  properly  be  called  a 
sapientia,  since  according  to  its  nature,  it  is  rather  a  know- 
ledge of  principles  than  a  method  of  conclusions.  It  consists 
in  knowledge  of  God  directly  revealed.  Therefore  its 
principles  are  not  those  of  the  human  sciences  :  for  example, 
it  does  not  accept  its  principles  from  metaphysics,  although 
that  science  treats  of  much  that  is  contained  in  theology. 
Nor  are  the  sciences — we  can  hardly  say  the  otlier  sciences 
— subordinated  to  it ;  since  their  province  is  natural  know- 
ledge obtained  through  natural  means.  Theology,  if  it  be  a 
science,  is  one  apart  from  the  rest.  The  knowledge  which 
makes  its  substance  is  never  its  end,  but  always  means  to 
its  end  ;  which  is  to  say,  that  it  is  practical  and  not  specula- 
tive. By  virtue  of  its  primacy  as  well  as  character,  theology 
pertains  to  the  Will,  and  works  itself  out  in  practice : 
practical  alike  are  its  principles  and  conclusions.  Apparently, 
with  Duns,  theology  is  a  science  only  in  this  respect,  that  its 
substance,  which  is  most  rational,  may  be  logically  treated 
with  a  view  to  a  complete  and  consistent  understanding 
of  it.2 

1  Miscell.  quacst.  6,  18,  cited  by  Seeberg,  o.c.  p.  114. 

2  The  last  two  or  three  pages  have  been  drawn  mainly  from  Seeberg,  o.c. 
p.  113  sqq.      In  discussing  Duns  Scotus,  I  have  given  less  from  his  writings  than 
has  been  my  wont  with  other  philosophers.     And  for  two  reasons.     The  first,  as 
I  frankly  avow,  is  that  I  have  read  less  of  him  than  I  have  of  his  predecessors. 
With  the  exception  of  such    a   curious   treatise  as  the   (doubtful)  Grammatua 


CHAP.  XLII  SCOTUS  AND  OCCAM  517 

In  entire  consistency  with  these  fundamental  views, 
Duns  held  that  man's  supreme  beatitude  lay  in  the  complete 
and  perfect  functioning  of  his  will  in  accordance  with  the 
will  of  God.  This  was  a  strong  and  noble  view  of  man,  free 
to  think  and  act  and  will  and  love,  according  to  the  will, 
and  aided  by  the  Grace,  of  the  Creator  of  his  will  and  mind. 
The  trouble  lay,  as  said  before,  in  the  method  by  which  all 
was  set  forth  and  proved.  The  truly  consequent  person 
who  made  theology  a  practical  matter,  was  such  a  one  as 
Francis  of  Assisi,  with  his  ceaselessly-burning  Christlike  love 
actualizing  itself  in  living  act  and  word — or  possibly  such  a 
one  as  Bonaventura  with  his  piety.  But  can  it  ever  seem 
other  than  fantastic,  to  state  this  principle,  and  then  bulwark 
it  with  volumes  of  dialectic  and  a  metaphysics  beyond  the 
grasp  of  human  understanding  ?  Not  from  such  does  one 
learn  to  do  the  will  of  God.  This  was  scarcely  the  way  to 
make  good  the  ultimate  practical  character  of  religion,  as 
against  Thomas's  frankly  intellectual  view.  Duns  is  as 
intellectual  as  Thomas  ;  but  Thomas  is  the  more  consistent. 
And  shall  we  say,  that  with  Duns  all  makes  toward  God,  as 
the  final  end,  through  the  strong  action  of  the  human  will 
and  love  ?  So  be  it — Thomas  said,  through  intellection 
and  through  love.  Again  one  queries,  did  the  Scotian 
reasoning  ever  foster  love  ? 

And  then  Duns  set  theology  apart, — and  supreme. 
Again,  so  be  it.  Let  the  impulsive  religion  of  the  soul 
assert  its  primacy.  But  this  was  not  the  way  of  Duns. 
Theology  and  philosophy  do  not  rest  on  the  same  principles, 
says  he  ;  but  how  does  he  demonstrate  it  ?  By  substanti- 
ating this  severance  by  means  of  metaphysical  dialectic,  and 
using  the  same  dialectic  and  the  same  metaphysics  to  prove 

speculativa  (tome  i.  of  the  Paris  edition)  ;  and  the  elementary,  and  comparatively 
lucid,  De  rerum  principle  (tome  iv.  of  the  Paris  edition)— with  these  exceptions 
Duns  is  to  me  unreadable.  My  second  reason  for  omitting  excerpts  from  his  writ- 
ings, is  that  I  wished  neither  to  misrepresent  their  quality,  nor  to  cause  my  reader 
to  lay  down  my  book,  which  is  heavy  enough  anyhow  !  If  I  selected  lucid  and 
simple  extracts,  they  would  give  no  idea  of  the  intricacy  and  prolixity  of  Duns. 
His  commentary  on  the  Sentences  fills  thirteen  tomes  of  the  Paris  edition  !  No 
short  and  simple  extract  will  illustrate  that  \  On  the  other  hand,  I  could  not 
bring  myself  by  lengthy  or  impossible  quotations  to  vilify  Duns.  It  is  unjust  to 
expose  a  man's  worst  features,  nakedly  and  alone,  to  those  who  do  not  know  his 
better  side  and  the  conditions  which  partly  explain  the  rest  of  him. 


5i8  THE  MEDIAEVAL   MIND  BOOK  vn 

that  theology  can  do  without  either.  Not  by  dialectic  and 
metaphysics  can  theology  free  itself  from  them,  and  set  itself 
on  other  foundations. 

Duns  Scotus  exerted  great  influence,  both  directly  and 
through  the  reaction  occasioned  by  certain  of  his  teachings. 
The  next  generations  were  full  of  Scotists,  who  were  proud 
if  only  they  might  be  reputed  more  subtle  than  their  master. 
They  succeeded  in  becoming  more  inane.  There  were  other 
men,  whom  the  critical  processes  of  Duns  led  to  deny  the 
validity  of  his  constructive  metaphysics.  Of  those  who 
profited  by  his  teaching,  yet  represented  this  reaction  against 
parts  of  it,  the  ablest  was  the  Franciscan,  William  of  Occam, 
a  man  but  few  years  younger  than  Duns.  He  was  born  in 
England,  in  the  county  of  Surrey  ;  and  studied  under  Duns 
at  Paris.  It  is  known  that  in  1320  he  was  lecturing  with 
distinction  at  this  centre  of  intellectual  life.  Three  years 
afterward,  he  quitted  his  chair,  and  in  the  controversies  then 
rending  his  Order,  hotly  espoused  the  cause  of  the  Spirituales 
— the  Franciscans  who  would  carry  out  the  precepts  of 
Francis  to  the  letter.  Next,  he  threw  himself  with  all  the 
ardour  of  his  temper  into  the  conflict  with  the  papacy,  and 
became  the  literary  champion  of  the  rights  of  the  State. 
He  was  cited  before  the  pope,  and  imprisoned  at  Avignon, 
but  escaped,  in  1328,  and  fled  to  the  Court  of  the  emperor, 
Louis  of  Bavaria,  to  whom,  as  the  accounts  declare,  he 
addressed  the  proud  word  :  Tu  me  defendas  gladio,  ego  te 
defendant  calamo.  He  died  about  1347. 

The  succession,  as  it  were,  of  Occam  to  Duns  Scotus,  is 
of  great  interest.  It  was  portentous  for  scholasticism.  The 
pupil,  for  pupil  in  large  measure  he  was,  profited  by  the 
critical  methods  and  negations  of  the  master.  But  he 
denied  the  validity  of  the  metaphysical  constructions  whereby 
Duns  sought  to  rebuild  what  his  criticism  had  cast  down 
or  shaken.  Especially,  Occam  would  not  accept  the  subtle 
Doctor's  fabrication  of  an  external  world  in  accord  with  the 
apparent  necessities  of  thought  For  with  all  Duns's  critical 
insistency,  never  did  a  man  more  unhesitatingly  make  a 
universe  to  fit  the  syllogistic  processes  of  his  reason,  pro- 
jected into  the  external  world.  Here  Occam  would  not 
follow  him,  as  Aristotle  would  not  follow  Plato. 


CHAP.  XLII  SCOTUS  AND. OCCAM  519 

It  were  well  to  consider  more  specifically  these  two  sides 
of  Occam's  succession  to  Duns  Scotus,  shown  in  his  accept- 
ance and  rejection  of  the  master's  teaching.  He  followed 
him,  of  course,  in  emphasising  the  functions  of  the  will  ; 
and  accepted  the  conception  of  theology  as  practical,  and 
not  speculative,  in  its  ends  ;  and,  like  Duns,  he  distinguished, 
nay  rather,  severed,  theology  from  philosophy,  widening  the 
cleft  between  them.  If,  with  Duns,  theology  was  still,  in  a 
sense,  a  science ;  with  Occam  it  could  hardly  be  called  one. 
Although  Duns  denied  that  theology  was  to  be  controlled 
by  principles  drawn  from  metaphysics,  he  laboured  to 
produce  a  metaphysical  counterfeit,  wherein  theology, 
founded  on  revelation  and  church  law,  should  present  a 
close  parallel  to  what  it  would  have  been,  had  its  controlling 
principles  been  those  of  metaphysics.  Occam  quite  as 
resolutely  as  his  master,  proves  the  untenability  of  current 
theological  reasonings.  More  unreservedly  than  Duns,  he 
interdicts  the  testing  of  theology  by  reason :  and  goes 
beyond  him  in  restricting  the  sphere  of  rationally  demon- 
strable truth,  denying,  for  instance,  that  reason  can 
demonstrate  God's  unity,  infinity,  or  even  existence. 
Unlike  Duns,  he  would  not  attempt  to  erect  a  quasi- 
scientific  theology,  in  the  place  of  the  systems  he  rejects. 
To  make  up  for  this  negative  result,  Occam  asserted  the 
verity  of  Scripture  unqualifiedly,  as  Duns  also  did.  With 
Occam,  Scripture,  revelation,  is  absolutely  infallible,  neither 
requiring  nor  admitting  the  proofs  of  reason.  To  be  sure 
he  co-ordinates  with  it  the  Law  of  Nature,  which  God  has 
implanted  in  our  minds.  But  otherwise  theology,  faith, 
stands  alone,  very  isolated,  although  on  the  alleged  most 
certain  of  foundations.  The  provinces  of  science  and  faith 
are  different.  Faith's  assent  is  not  required  for  what  is 
known  through  evidence  ;  science  does  not  depend  on  faith. 
Nor  does  faith  or  theology  depend  on  scientia.  And  since, 
without  faith,  no  one  can  assent  to  those  verities  which  are 
to  be  believed  (veritatibus  credibilibus),  there  is  no  scientia 
proprie  dicta  respecting  them.  So  the  breach  in  the  old 
scholastic,  Thomist,  unity  was  made  utter  and  irreparable. 
Theology  stands  on  the  surest  of  bases,  but  isolated,  un- 
supported ;  philosophy,  all  human  knowledge,  extends 


520  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

around  and  below  it,  and  is  discredited  because  irrelevant  to 
highest  truth. 

Thus  far  as  to  Occam's  loyal  and  rebellious  succession  to 
the  theology  of  Duns.  In  philosophy,  it  was  much  the  same. 
He  accepted  his  critical  methods,  but  would  not  follow  him 
in  his  constructive  metaphysics.  Although  the  older  man 
was  pre-eminently  a  metaphysician,  the  critical  side  of  his 
intellect  drew  empiric  processes  within  the  sweep  of  its 
energies.  Occam,  unconvinced  of  the  correspondence 
between  the  logic  of  concepts  and  the  facts  of  the  external 
world,  seeks  to  limit  the  principles  of  the  former  to  the 
processes  of  the  mind.  Accordingly,  he  rejects  the  inferences 
of  the  Scotian  dialectic  which  project  themselves  outward,  as 
proofs  of  the  objective  existence  of  abstract  or  general  ideas. 
It  is  thus  from  a  more  thoroughgoing  application  of  the 
Scotian  analysis  of  mental  processes,  and  a  more  thorough- 
going testing  of  the  evidence  furnished  by  experience,  that 
Occam  refuses  to  recognise  the  existence  of  universals  save 
in  the  mind,  where  evidently  they  are  necessary  elements  of 
thinking.  Manifestly,  he  is  striving  very  earnestly  not  to  go 
beyond  the  evidence  ;  and  he  is  also  striving  to  eliminate  all 
unevidenced  and  unnecessary  elements,  and  those  chimeras 
of  the  mind,  which  become  actual  untruths  when  posited  as 
realities  of  the  outer  world. 

Such  were  the  motives  of  Occam's  far  from  simple 
theory  of  cognition.  In  it,  mental  perceptions,  or  cognitions, 
were  regarded  as  symbols  (signa,  termini]  of  the  objects  repre- 
sented by  them.  They  are  natural,  as  contrasted  with  the 
artificial  symbols  of  speech  and  writing.  They  fall  into 
three  classes  ;  first,  sense-perception  of  the  concrete  object, 
and  thirdly,  so  to  speak,  the  abstract  concept  representative 
of  many  objects,  or  of  some  ideal  figment  or  quality.  Inter- 
mediate between  the  two,  Occam  puts  notitia  intuitiva,  which 
relates  to  the  existence  of  concrete  things.  It  serves  as  a 
basis  for  the  cognition  of  their  combinations  and  relation- 
ships, and  forms  a  necessary  antecedent  to  abstract  know- 
ledge. Notitia  abstractiva  praesupponit  intuitivam}  Occam 
holds  that  notitia  intuitiva  presents  the  concrete  thing  as  it 
exists.  Otherwise  with  abstract  or  general  concepts.  They 

1   Quodltbetalia,  i.  Qu.  14,  cited  by  De  Wulf,  o.c.  p.  422. 


CHAP.  XLII  SCOTUS  AND  OCCAM  521 

are  signa  of  mental  presentations,  or  processes  ;  and  there  is 
no  ground  for  transferring  them  to  the  world  of  outer  realities. 
Their  existence  is  confined  to  the  mind,  where  they  are 
formed  from  the  common  elements  of  other  signa,  especially 
those  of  our  notitia  intuitiva.  "  And  so,"  says  Occam,  "  the 
genus  is  not  common  to  many  things  through  any  sameness 
in  them,  but  through  the  common  nature  (communitatem) 
of  the  signum,  by  which  the  same  signum  is  common  to 
many  things  signified."  1  These  universals  furnish  predicates 
for  our  judgments,  since  through  them  we  conceive  of  realities 
as  containing  a  common  element  of  nature.  They  are  not 
mere  words  ;  but  have  a  real  existence  in  the  mind,  where 
they  perform  functions  essential  to  thinking.  Indirectly, 
through  their  bases  of  notitiae  intuitivae,  they  even  reflect 
outer  realities.  "  The  Universal  is  no  mere  figment,  to 
which  there  is  no  correspondence  of  anything  like  it  (cut 
non  correspondet  aliquod  consimile)  in  objective  being,  as  that 
is  figured  in  the  thinker." 

It  results  from  the  foregoing  argument,  that  science, 
ordered  knowledge,  which  seeks  co-ordination  and  unity,  has 
not  to  do  with  things  ;  but  with  propositions,  its  object 
being  that  which  is  known,  rather  than  that  which  is. 
Things  are  singular,  while  science  treats  of  general  ideas, 
which  are  only  in  the  mind.  "  It  should  be  understood, 
that  any  science,  whether  realis  or  rationalis,  is  only  con- 
cerned with  propositions  (propositionibus}  ;  because  proposi- 
tions alone  are  known." 2 

It  was  not  so  very  great  a  leap  from  the  realism  of 
Duns,  which  ascribed  a  certain  objective  existence  to  general 
ideas,  to  the  nominalism,  or  rather  conceptualism,  of  Occam, 
which  denied  it,  yet  recognised  the  real  existence  and  neces- 
sary functions  of  universals,  in  the  mind.  The  metaphysically 
proved  realities  of  Duns  were  rather  spectral,  and  Occam's 
universals,  subjective  though  they  were,  lived  a  real  and 
active  life.  One  feels  that  the  realities  of  Duns's  meta- 
physics scarcely  extended  beyond  the  thinker's  mind.  In 

1  Expos,  aurea,  cited  by  De  Wulf,  o.c.  p.  423,  whose  exposition  of  Occam's 
theory  I  have  followed  here. 

2  On    Occam,    see   Seeberg's   article    in  Hauck's  Encyclopaedia ;   Siebeck, 
"Occams  Erkenntnislehre,  etc.,"  in  Archiv  fur  Ges.  der  Philosophic  Bd.  x., 
Neue  Folge  (1897). 


522  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

many  respects  Occam's  philosophy  was  a  strenuous  carrying 
out  of  Duns's  teachings  ;  and  when  it  was  not,  we  see  the 
younger  man  pushed,  or  rather  repelled,  to  the  positions 
which  he  took,  by  the  unsatisfying  metaphysics  of  his 
teacher.  History  shows  other  rebounds  of  thought,  which 
seem  abrupt,  and  yet  were  consequential  in  the  same  dual 
way  that  Occam's  doctrine  followed  that  of  Duns.  Out  of 
the  Brahmin  Absolute  came  the  Buddhist  wheel  of  change  ; 
even  as  Parmenides  was  followed  hard  by  Heraclitus.  And 
how  often  Atheism  steps  on  Pantheism's  heels  ! 

Thus,  developing,  revising,  and  changing,  Occam  carried 
out  the  work  of  Duns,  and  promulgated  a  theory  of  know- 
ledge which  pointed  on  to  much  later  phases  of  thinking. 
In  his  school  he  came  to  be  called  venerabilis  inceptor,  a 
proper  title  for  the  man  who  shook  loose  from  so  much 
previous  thought,  and  became  the  source  of  so  many  novel 
views.  He  had,  indeed,  little  fear  of  novelty.  "  Novelties 
(novitates)  are  not  altogether  to  be  rejected  ;  but  as  what  is 
old  (vetustd),  on  becoming  burdensome,  should  be  abolished, 
so  novelties  when,  to  the  sound  judgment,  they  are  useful, 
fruitful,  necessary,  expedient,  are  the  more  boldly  to  be 
embraced."  * 

It  is  not,  however,  as  the  inceptor  of  new  philosophies  or 
of  novel  views  on  the  relations  between  State  and  Papacy 
that  we  are  viewing  Occam  here  at  the  close  of  this  long 
presentation  of  the  ultimate  intellectual  interests  of  the 
twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries.  But  rather  as  the  man 
who  represented  the  ways  in  which  the  old  was  breaking  up, 
and  embodied  the  thoughts  rending  the  scholastic  system  ; 
who  even  was  a  factor  in  the  palpable  decadence  of  scholastic 
thinking  that  had  set  in  before  his  eyes  were  closed.  For 
from  him  came  a  new  impulse  to  a  renewed  overstudy  of 
formal  logic — with  Thomas,  for  example,  logic  had  but 
filled  its  proper  rdle.  Withdrawing  from  metaphysics  the 
matter  pertaining  to  the  problem  of  universals  and  much 
more  besides,  Occam  transferred  the  same  to  logic,  which 
he  called  omnium  artium  aptissimum  instrumentum?  This 
reinstatement  of  logic  as  the  instrument  and  means  of  all 
knowledge  was  to  be  the  perdition  of  emptier-minded  men, 
1  Quoted  by  Seeberg.  2  De  Wulf,  o.c.  p.  425. 


CHAP.  XLII  SCOTUS  AND  OCCAM  523 

who  felt  no  difference  between  philosophy  and  the  war  of 
words.  And  in  this  respect  at  least  the  decadence  of 
scholasticism  took  its  inception  from  this  bold  and  virile 
mind  which  had  small  reverence  for  popes  or  for  the  idols  of 
the  schools.  We  shall  not  follow  the  lines  of  this  decay, 
but  simply  notice  where  they  start. 

In  the  growth  and  decline  of  thought,  things  so  go  hand  in 
hand  that  it  is  hard  to  say  what  draws  and  what  is  drawn. 
In  the  scholastic  decadence,  the  preposterous  use  of  logic  was 
a  palpable  element.  Yet  was  it  cause  or  effect  ?  Obviously 
both.  Scholasticism  was  losing  its  grasp  of  life  ;  and  the 
universities  in  the  fourteenth  century  were  crowded  with  men 
whose  minds  mistook  words  for  thoughts  ;  and  because  of 
this  they  gave  themselves  to  hypertrophic  logic.  On  the 
other  hand,  this  windy  study  promoted  the  increasing 
emptiness  of  philosophy. 

Likewise,  as  cause  and  effect,  inextricably  bound  together, 
the  other  factors  work,  and  are  worked  upon.  The  number 
of  universities  increases ;  professors  and  students  multiply  ; 
but  there  is  an  awful  dearth  of  thinkers  among  them.  There 
ceases  even  to  be  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  scholastic 
systems  ;  men  study  from  compendia  ;  and  thereby  remain 
most  deeply  ignorant,  and  unfecundated  by  the  thoughts  of 
their  forbears.  Cause  and  effect  again  !  We  can  hardly 
blame  them,  when  tomes  and  encyclopaedias  were  being 
heaped  mountain  high,  with  life  crushed  beneath  the 
monstrous  pile,  or  escaping  from  it.  But  whether  cause 
or  effect,  the  energies  of  study  slackened,  and  even  rotted, 
both  at  the  universities  and  generally  among  the  members 
of  the  two  Student  Orders,  from  whom  had  come  the  last 
creators — and  perhaps  destroyers — of  scholasticism. 

Next :  the  language  of  philosophy  deteriorated,  becoming 
turbid  with  the  barbarisms  of  hair-splitting  technicalities. 
Likewise  the  method  of  presentation  lost  coherence  and 
clarity.  All  of  which  was  the  result  of  academic  decadence, 
and  promoted  it. 

So  decay  worked  on  within  the  system,  each  failing 
element  being  both  effect  and  cause,  in  a  general  subsidence 
of  merit.  There  were  also  causes,  as  it  were,  from  without ; 
which  possibly  were  likewise  effects  of  this  scholastic  decay 


524  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

As  the  life  of  the  world  once  had  gone  out  of  paganism,  and 
put  on  the  new  vigour  of  Christianity,  so  the  life  of  the  world 
was  now  forsaking  scholasticism,  and  deriding,  shall  we  say, 
the  womb  it  had  escaped  from.  Was  the  embryo  ripe,  that 
the  womb  had  become  its  mephitic  prison  ?  At  all  events, 
the  fourteenth  century  brought  forth,  and  the  next  was  filled 
with,  these  men  who  called  the  readers  of  Duns  Scotus  Dunces 
— and  the  word  still  lives.  Men  had  new  thoughts  ;  the 
power  of  the  popes  was  shattered,  and  within  the  Church, 
popes  and  councils  fought  for  supremacy ;  there  was  no 
longer  any  actual  unity  of  the  Church  to  preserve  the  unity 
of  thought ;  Wicliffe  had  risen  ;  Huss  and  Luther  were  close 
to  the  horizon  ;  a  new  science  of  observation  was  also  stirring, 
and  a  new  humanism  was  abroad.  The  life  of  men  had 
not  lessened  nor  their  energies  and  powers  of  thought.  Yet 
life  and  power  no  longer  pulsed  and  wrought  within  the  old 
forms  ;  but  had  gone  out  from  them,  and  disdainfully  were 
flouting  the  emptied  husks. 


CHAPTER    XLII1 

THE    MEDIAEVAL    SYNTHESIS  :    DANTE 

IT  lies  before  us  to  draw  the  lines  of  mediaeval  development 
together.  We  have  been  considering  the  Middle  Ages  very 
largely,  endeavouring  to  fix  in  mind  the  more  interesting 
of  their  intellectual  and  emotional  phenomena.  We  have 
found  throughout  a  certain  spiritual  homogeneity  ;  but  have 
also  seen  that  the  mediaeval  period  of  western  Europe  is 
not  to  be  forced  to  a  fictitious  unity  of  intellectual  and 
emotional  quality — contradicted  by  a  disparity  of  traits  and 
interests  existing  then  as  now.  Yet  just  as  certain  ways  of 
discerning  facts  and  estimating  their  importance  distinguish 
our  own  time,  making  it  an  "  age "  or  epoch,  so  in  spite 
of  diversity  and  conflict,  the  same  was  true  of  the  mediaeval 
period.  From  the  ninth  to  the  fourteenth  century,  inter- 
related processes  of  thought,  beliefs,  and  standards  prevailed 
and  imparted  a  spiritual  colour  to  the  time.  While  not 
affecting  all  men  equally,  these  spiritual  habits  tended  to 
dominate  the  minds  and  tempers  of  those  men  who  were 
the  arbiters  of  opinion,  for  example,  the  church  dignitaries, 
or  the  theologian-philosophers.  Men  who  thought  effectively, 
or  upon  whom  it  fell  to  decide  for  others,  or  to  construct  or 
imagine  for  them,  such,  whether  pleasure-loving,  secularly 
ambitious,  or  immersed  in  contemplation  of  the  life  beyond 
the  grave,  accepted  certain  beliefs,  recognized  certain  authori- 
tatively prescribed  ideals  of  conduct  and  well-being,  and  did 
not  reject  the  processes  of  proof  supporting  them. 

The  causes  making  the  Middle  Ages  a  characterizable 
period  in  human  history  have  been  scanned.  We  observed 
the  antecedent  influences  as  they  finally  took  form  and 

525 


526  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

temper  in  the  intellectual  atmosphere  of  the  latter-day  pagan 
world  and  the  cognate  mentalities  of  the  Church  Fathers. 
We  followed  the  pre-Christian  Latinizing  of  Provence,  Spain, 
Gaul,  and  the  diffusion  of  Christianity  throughout  the  same 
countries,  where,  save  for  sporadic  dispossession,  Christianity 
and  Latin  were  to  continue,  and  become,  in  the  course  of 
centuries,  mediaeval  and  Romance.  As  waves  of  barbarism 
washed  over  the  somewhat  decadent  society  of  Italy  and  her 
Latin  daughters,  we  saw  a  new  ignorance  setting  a  final 
seal  upon  the  inability  of  these  epigoni  to  emulate  bygone 
achievements.  Plainly  there  was  need  of  effort  to  rescue 
the  disjecta  membra  of  the  antique  and  Christian  heritages. 
The  wreckers  were  famous  men,  young  Boethius,  old 
Cassiodorus,  the  great  pope  Gregory,  and  princely  Isidore. 
For  their  own  people  they  were  gatherers  and  conservers  ; 
but  they  proved  veritable  transmitters  for  Franks,  Anglo- 
Saxons  and  Germans,  who  were  made  acquainted  with 
Christianity  and  Latinity  between  the  sixth  and  the  ninth 
centuries,  the  period  in  the  course  of  which  the  Mero- 
vingian kingdoms  were  superseded  by  the  Carolingian 
Empire. 

With  the  Carolingian  period  the  Middles  Ages  unques- 
tionably are  upon  us.  The  factors  and  material  of  mediaeval 
development,  howsoever  they  have  come  into  conjunction, 
are  found  in  interplay.  It  was  for  the  mediaeval  peoples, 
now  in  presence  of  their  spiritual  fortunes,  to  grow  and  draw 
from  life.  Their  task,  as  has  appeared  from  many  points 
of  view,  was  to  master  the  Christian  and  antique  material, 
and  change  its  substance  into  personal  faculty.  Under 
different  guises  this  task  was  for  all,  whether  living  in  Italy 
or  dwelling  where  the  antique  had  weaker  root  or  had  been 
newly  introduced. 

This  Carolingian  time  of  so  much  sheer  introduction 
to  the  teaching  of  the  past  presented  little  intellectual 
discrimination.  That  would  come  very  gradually,  when 
men  had  mastered  their  lesson  and  could  set  themselves 
to  further  study  of  the  parts  suited  to  their  taste.  Never- 
theless, there  was  even  in  the  Carolingian  period  another 
sort  of  discrimination,  towards  which  men's  consciences  were 
drawn  by  the  contrast  between  their  antique  and  Christian 


CHAP.  XLIII     THE  MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  527 

heritages,  and  because  the  latter  held  a  criterion  of  selection 
and  rejection,  touching  all  the  elements  of  human  life. 

Whoever  reflects  upon  his  life  and  its  compass  of 
thought,  of  inclination,  of  passion,  action,  and  capacity  for 
happiness  or  desolation,  is  likely  to  consider  how  he  may 
best  harmonize  its  elements.  He  will  have  to  choose  and 
reject ;  and  within  him  may  arise  a  conflict  which  he  must 
bring  to  reconcilement  if  he  will  have  peace.  He  may  need 
to  sacrifice  certain  of  his  impulses  or  even  rational  desires. 
As  with  a  thoughtful  individual,  so  with  thoughtful  people 
of  an  epoch,  among  whom  like  standards  of  discrimination 
may  be  found  prevailing.  The  ninth  century  received,  with 
patristic  Christianity,  a  standard  of  selection  and  rejection. 
In  conformity  with  it,  men,  century  after  century,  were  to 
make  their  choice,  and  try  to  bring  their  lives  to  a  dis- 
criminating unity  and  certain  peace.  Yet  in  every  mediaeval 
century  the  soul's  peace  was  broken  in  ways  demanding 
other  modes  of  reconcilement. 

What  profiteth  a  man  to  gain  the  world  and  lose  his 
eternal  life  ?  Here  was  the  Gospel  basis  of  the  matter. 
And,  following  their  conception  of  Christ's  teaching,  the 
Fathers  of  the  Church  elaborated  and  defined  the  conditions 
of  attainment  of  eternal  life  with  God,  which  was  salvation. 
This  was  man's  whole  good,  embracing  every  valid  and 
righteous  element  of  life.  Thus  it  had  been  with  Christ ; 
thus  it  was  with  Augustine ;  thus  it  was  with  Benedict  of 
Nursia  and  Gregory  the  Great ;  only  in  Benedict  and 
Gregory  the  salvation  which  represented  the  true  and 
uncorrupt  life  of  man  on  earth,  as  well  as  the  assured 
preparation  for  eternal  life  with  God,  had  shrunken  from  the 
universality  of  Christ,  and  even  from  the  fulness  of  desire 
with  which  Augustine  sought  to  know  God  and  the  soul. 
In  these  later  men  the  conception  of  salvation  had  contracted 
through  ascetic  exclusion  and  barbaric  fear. 

Yet  with  Benedict  and  Gregory,  in  whom  there  was 
much  constructive  sanity,  and  indeed  with  all  men  who  were 
not  maniacally  constrained,  there  was  recognition  that 
salvation  was  of  the  mind  as  well  as  through  faith  and  love, 
or  abhorrent  fear.  It  is  necessary  to  know  the  truth  ;  and 
surely  it  is  absolutely  good  to  desire  to  know  the  truth  forever, 


528  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

without  the  cumbrances  of  fleshly  mortality.  This  desire  is 
a  true  part  of  everlasting  life.  Through  it  Origen,  Hilary 
of  Poictiers,  Augustine  largely,  and  after  them  the  great 
scholastics  with  Dante  at  their  close,  achieved  salvation. 

But  why  should  one  desire  to  know  the  truth  utterly 
and  forever,  were  not  the  truth  desirable,  lovable  ?  Naturally 
one  loves  that  which  through  desire  and  effort  one  has  come 
to  know.  Love  is  required  and  also  faith  by  him  who  will 
have  and  know  the  salvation  which  is  eternal  life ;  the 
emotions  must  take  active  part.  Yet  salvation  comes  not 
through  the  unguided  sense-desiderative  nature.  It  is  for 
reason  to  direct  passionate  desire,  and  raise  it  to  desire 
rationally  approved,  which  is  volition. 

Thus  salvation  not  only  requires  the  action  of  the  whole 
man,  but  is  in  and  of  his  entire  nature.  It  presents  a  unity 
primarily  because  of  its  agreement  with  the  will  of  God,  and 
then  because  of  its  unqualified  and  universal  insistence  that 
it,  salvation,  life  eternal,  be  set  absolutely  first  in  man's 
endeavour.  What  indeed  could  be  more  irrational,  and 
more  loveless  and  faithless,  than  that  any  desire  should 
prevail  over  the  entire  good  of  man  and  the  will  of  God  as 
well  ?  Oneness  and  peace  consist  in  singleness  of  purpose 
and  endeavour  for  salvation.  Herein  lies  the  standard  of 
conduct  and  of  discrimination  as  touching  every  element 
of  mortal  life. 

With  mediaeval  men,  the  application  of  the  criterion  of 
salvation  depended  on  how  the  will  of  God  for  man,  and 
man's  accordant  conduct,  was  conceived.  What  kind  of 
conduct,  what  elements  of  the  intellectual  and  emotional  life 
were  proper  for  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven?  What  matters 
barred  the  way,  or  were  unfit  for  the  eternal  spiritual  state  ? 
The  history  of  Christian  thought  lies  within  these  queries. 
An  authoritative  consensus  of  opinion  was  represented  by 
the  Church  at  large,  holding  from  century  to  century  a  juste 
milieu  of  doctrine,  by  no  means  lax  and  yet  not  going  to 
ascetic  extremes.  Seemingly  the  Church  maintained  varying 
standards  of  conduct  for  different  orders  of  men.  Yet  in 
truth  it  was  applying  one  standard  according  to  the  responsi- 
bilities of  individuals  and  their  vows. 

The  Church  (meaning,  for  our  purpose,  the  authoritative 


CHAP.  XLIII     THE  MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  529 

consensus  of  mediaeval  ecclesiastical  or  religious  approvals) 
always  upheld  as  the  ideal  of  perfect  living  the  religious 
life,  led  under  the  sanction  and  guidance  of  some  recognized 
monastic  regula.  So  lived  monks  and  nuns,  and  in  more 
extreme  or  sporadic  instances,  anchorites  and  reclusae.  The 
main  peril  of  this  strait  and  narrow  path  was  its  forsaking, 
the  breaking  of  its  vows.  Less  austerely  guarded  and 
exposed  to  further  dangers  were  the  secular  clergy,  living  in 
the  world,  occupied  with  the  care  of  lay  souls,  and  with 
other  cares  that  hardly  touched  salvation.  The  world 
avowedly,  the  flesh  in  reality,  and  the  devil  in  all  prob- 
ability, beset  the  souls  of  bishops  and  other  clergy.  In 
view  of  their  exposed  positions  "  in  the  world,"  a  less 
austerely  ascetic  life  was  expected  of  the  seculars,  whose 
lapses  from  absolute  holiness  God  might — or  perhaps  might 
not — condone. 

Around,  and  for  the  most  part  below,  regulars  and 
seculars  were  the  laity  of  both  sexes,  of  all  ages,  positions, 
and  degrees  of  instruction  or  ignorance.  They  had  taken 
no  vows  of  utter  devotion  to  God's  service,  and  were  expected 
to  marry,  beget  children,  fight  and  barter,  and  fend  for 
themselves  amid  the  temptations  and  exigencies  of  affairs. 
Well  for  them  indeed  if  they  could  live  in  communion  with 
the  Church,  and  die  repentant  and  absolved,  eligible  for 
purgatory. 

For  all  these  kinds  of  men  and  women  like  virtues  were 
prescribed,  although  their  fulfilment  was  looked  for  with 
varying  degrees  of  expectation.  For  instance,  the  distinctly 
theological  virtues,  faith,  hope,  and  charity,  especially  the 
first,  could  not  be  completely  attained  by  the  ignorance  and 
imperfect  consecration  of  laymen.  The  vices,  likewise,  were 
the  same  for  all,  pride,  anger,  hypocrisy,  and  the  rest ;  only 
with  married  people  a  venial  unchastity  was  sacramentally 
declared  not  to  constitute  mortal  sin.  For  this  one  case, 
human  weakness,  also  mankind's  necessity,  was  recognized  ; 
while,  in  practice,  the  Church,  through  its  boundless  oppor- 
tunities for  penitence  and  absolution,  mercifully  condoned  all 
delinquency  save  obstinate  pride,  impenitence,  and  disbelief. 

These  were  the  bare  poles  ethical  of  the  orthodox 
mediaeval  Christian  scheme.  How  as  to  its  intellectual  and 
VOL.  II  2  M 


530  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

emotional  inclusiveness  ?  The  many-phased  interest  of  the 
mind,  i.e.  the  desire  to  know,  was  in  principle  accepted,  but 
with  the  condition  that  the  ultimate  end  of  knowledge 
should  be  the  attainment  of  salvation.  It  was  stated  and 
re-emphasized  by  well-nigh  every  type  of  mediaeval  thinker, 
that  Theology  was  the  queen  of  sciences,  and  her  service 
alone  justified  her  handmaids.  All  knowledge  should  make 
for  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  enlarge  the  soul's  relation- 
ship to  its  Creator  and  Judge.  "  He  that  is  not  with  me  is 
against  me."  Knowledge  which  does  not  aid  man  to  know 
his  God  and  save  his  soul,  all  intellectual  pursuits  which  are 
not  loyal  to  this  end,  minister  to  the  obstinacy  and  vain- 
glory of  man,  stiff-necked,  disobedient,  unsubmissive  to  the 
will  of  God.  Knowledge  is  justified  or  condemned  accord- 
ing to  its  ultimate  purpose.  Likewise  every  deed,  business, 
occupation,  which  can  fill  out  the  active  life  of  man.  As 
they  make  for  Christ  and  salvation,  the  functions  of  ruler, 
warrior,  lawyer,  artisan,  priest,  are  justified  and  blessed — or 
the  reverse. 

But  how  as  to  the  appetites  and  the  emotions?  How 
as  to  love,  between  the  sexes,  parent  and  child,  among 
friends  ?  The  standard  of  discrimination  is  still  the  same, 
though  its  application  vary.  Appetite  for  food,  if  unre- 
strained, is  gluttony  ;  it  must  be  held  from  hindering  the 
great  end.  One  must  guard  against  love's  obsession,  against 
sense-passion,  which  is  so  forgetful  of  the  ultimate  good : 
concupiscence  is  sinful.  Through  bodily  begetting,  the  taint 
of  original  sin  is  transmitted  ;  and  in  all  carnal  desire,  though 
sanctioned  by  the  marriage  sacrament,  is  lust  and  spiritual 
forgetfulness.  When  in  fornication  and  adultery  its  acts 
contravene  God's  law,  they  are  mortal  sins  which  will,  if 
unabsolved,  cast  the  sinner  into  hell. 

Few  men  in  the  Middle  Ages  were  insensible  to  their 
future  lot,  and  therefore  the  criterion  of  salvation  unto 
eternal  life  would  rarely  be  rejected.  But  often  there  was 
conflict  within  the  soul  before  it  acquiesced  in  what  it  felt 
compelled  to  recognize ;  and  sometimes  there  was  clear 
revolt  against  current  convictions,  or  practical  insistence 
that  a  larger  volume  of  the  elements  of  human  nature  were 
fit  for  life  eternal. 


CHAP,  xuii     THE  MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  531 

Conflict  before  acquiescence  had  agitated  the  natures  of 
sainted  Fathers  of  the  Church,  who  marked  out  the  path  to 
salvation  which  the  Middle  Ages  were  to  tread.  One  thinks 
at  once  of  Jerome's  never-forgotten  dream  of  exclusion  from 
Paradise  because  of  too  great  delight  in  classic  reading. 
Another  phase  was  Augustine's,  set  forth  somewhat  retro- 
spectively in  his  Confessions.  Therein,  as  would  seem,  the 
drawings  of  the  flesh  were  most  importunate.  Yet  not 
without  sighs  and  waverings  did  the  mind  of  Augustine  settle 
to  its  purpose  of  knowing  only  God  and  the  soul.  At  all 
events  the  chafings  of  mortal  curiosity,  the  promptings  of 
cultivated  taste,  and  the  cravings  of  the  flesh,  were  the 
moving  forces  of  the  Psychomachia  which  passed  with 
Patristic  Christianity  to  the  Middle  Ages.  Thousands  upon 
thousands  of  ardent  souls  were  to  experience  this  conflict 
before  convincing  themselves  that  classic  studies  should  be 
followed  only  as  they  led  heavenward,  and  that  carnal  love 
was  an  evil  thing  which,  even  when  sacramentally  sanctioned, 
might  deflect  the  soul. 

The  revolt  against  the  authoritatively  accepted  standard 
declared  itself  along  the  same  lines  of  conflict,  but  did  not 
end  in  acquiescence  and  renunciation.  It  contended  rather 
for  a  peace  and  reconcilement  which  should  include  much 
that  was  looked  upon  askance.  It  was  not  always  violent, 
and  might  be  dumb  to  the  verge  of  unconsciousness,  merely 
a  tacit  departure  from  standards  more  universally  recognized 
than  followed. 

There  were  countless  instances  of  this  silent  departure 
from  the  standard  of  salvation.  With  cultivated  men,  it 
realized  itself  in  classical  studies,  as  with  Hildebert  of  Le 
Mans  or  John  of  Salisbury.  It  does  not  appear  that  either 
of  them  experienced  qualms  of  conscience  or  suffered  rebuke 
from  their  brethren.  No  more  did  Gerbert,  an  earlier  in- 
stance of  catholic  interest  in  profane  knowledge,  though 
legends  of  questionable  practices  were  to  encircle  his  fame. 

Other  men  pursued  knowledge,  rational  or  physical,  in 
such  a  way  as  to  rouse  hostile  attention  to  its  irrelevancy 
or  repugnancy  to  saving  faith,  and  this  even  in  spite  of 
formal  demonstration  by  the  investigator — Roger  Bacon  is 
in  our  mind — of  the  advantage  of  his  researches  to  the 


532  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

Queen  Theology.  Bacon  might  not  have  been  so  suspect 
to  his  brethren,  and  his  demonstration  of  the  theological 
serviceableness  of  natural  knowledge  would  have  passed, 
had  he  not  put  forth  bristling  manifestos  denouncing  the 
blind  acceptance  of  custom  and  authority.  Moreover,  the 
obvious  tendencies  of  methods  of  investigation  advocated  by 
him  countered  methods  of  faith ;  for  the  mediaeval  and 
patristic  conception  of  salvation,  whatever  collateral  supports 
it  might  find  in  reason,  was  founded  on  the  authority  of 
revelation. 

Indeed  it  was  the  lifting  up  of  the  standard  of  rational 
investigation  which  distinguished  the  veritable  revolt  from 
those  preliminary  inner  conflicts  which  often  strengthened 
final  acquiescence.  And  it  was  the  obstinate  elevation  of 
one's  individual  wisdom  (as  it  appeared  to  the  orthodox) 
that  separated  the  accredited  supporters  of  the  Church 
among  theologians  and  philosophers,  from  those  who  were 
suspect.  We  mark  the  line  of  the  latter  reaching  back 
through  Abaelard  to  Eriugena.  Such  men,  although 
possibly  narrower  in  their  intellectual  interests  than  some 
who  more  surely  abode  within  the  Church's  pale,  may  be 
held  as  broader  in  principle.  For  inasmuch  as  they  tended 
to  set  reason  above  authority,  it  would  seem  that  there  was 
no  bound  to  their  pursuit  of  rational  knowledge,  wherewith 
to  expand  and  fortify  their  reason. 

But  if  the  intellectual  side  of  man  pressed  upon  the 
absolutism  of  the  standard  of  salvation,  more  belligerent 
was  the  insistency  of  love — not  of  the  Crucified.  To  the 
Church's  disparagement  of  the  flesh,  love  made  answer 
openly,  not  slinking  behind  hedges  or  closed  doors,  nor 
even  sheltering  itself  within  wedlock's  lawfulness.  It,  love, 
without  regard  to  priestly  sanction,  proclaimed  itself  a 
counter-principle  of  worth.  The  love  of  man  for  woman 
was  to  be  an  inspiration  to  high  deeds  and  noble  living  as 
well  as  a  source  of  ennobling  power.  It  presented  an  ideal 
for  knights  and  poets.  It  could  confer  no  immortality  on 
lovers  save  that  of  undying  fame :  but  it  promised  the 
highest  happiness  and  worth  in  mortal  life.  If  only  knights 
and  ladies  might  not  have  grown  old,  the  supremacy  of  love 
and  its  emprize  would  have  been  impregnable.  But  age 


CHAP,  xuii     THE  MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  533 

must  come,  and  the  ghastly  mediaeval  fear  of  death  was 
like  to  drive  lover  and  mistress  at  the  last  within  some  con- 
vent refuge.  Fear  brought  compunction  and  perhaps  its 
tears.  Renunciation  of  the  joy  of  life  seemed  a  fit  penance 
to  disarm  the  Judge's  wrath.  So  at  the  end  of  life  the  ideal 
of  love  was  prone  to  make  surrender  to  salvation.  Asceticism 
even  enters  its  literature,  as  with  the  monkish  Galahad. 
There  was,  however,  another  way  of  reconcilement  between 
the  carnal  and  the  spiritual,  the  secular  and  the  eternal, 
by  which  the  secular  and  carnal  were  transformed  to  symbols 
of  the  spiritual  and  eternal — the  way  of  the  Vita  nuova 
and  the  Divina  Corn-media,  as  we  shall  see. 

So  in  spite  of  conflicts  or  silent  treasons  within  the 
natures  of  many  who  fought  beneath  the  Christian  banner, 
in  spite  of  open  mutinies  of  the  mind  and  declared  revolts 
of  the  heart,  salvation  remained  the  triumphant  standard 
of  discrimination  by  which  the  elements  of  mediaeval  life 
were  to  be  esteemed  or  rejected.  What  then  were  these 
elements  to  which  this  standard,  or  deflections  from  it, 
should  apply?  How  specify  their  mediaeval  guise  and 
character?  It  would  be  possible  to  pass  in  review  synopti- 
cally  the  contents  of  this  work.  We  might  return,  and 
then  once  more  travel  hitherward  over  the  mediaeval  path, 
the  many  paths  and  byways  of  mediaeval  life.  We  might 
follow  and  again  see  applied — or  unapplied — these  standards 
of  discrimination,  salvation  over  all,  and  the  deviations  of 
pretended  acquiescence  or  subconscious  departure.  We 
might  perhaps  make  one  final  attempt  to  draw  the  currents 
of  mediaeval  life  together,  or  observe  the  angles  of  their 
divergence,  and  note  once  more  the  disparity  of  taste  and 
interest  making  so  motley  the  mediaeval  picture.  But 
this  has  been  done  so  excellently,  in  colours  of  life,  and 
presented  in  the  person  of  a  man  in  whom  mediaeval 
thought  and  feeling  were  whole,  organic,  living — an  achieve- 
ment by  the  Artist  moving  the  antecedent  scheme  of  things 
which  made  this  man  Dante  what  he  was.  We  shall  find 
in  him  the  conflict,  the  silent  departures,  and  the  reconcile- 
ment at  last  of  recalcitrant  elements  brought  within  salvation 
as  the  standard  of  universal  discrimination.  Dante  accom- 
plishes this  reconcilement  in  personal  yet  full  mediaeval 


534  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

manner  by  transmuting  the  material  to  the  spiritual,  the 
mortal  to  the  eternal,  through  the  instrumentality  of 
symbolism.  He  is  not  merely  mediaeval ;  he  is  the  end 
of  the  mediaeval  development  and  the  proper  issue  of  the 
mediaeval  genius. 

Yes,  there  is  unity  throughout  the  diversity  of  mediaeval 
life  ;  and  Dante  is  the  proof.  For  the  elements  of  medi- 
aeval growth  combine  in  him,  demonstrating  their  congruity 
by  working  together  in  the  stature  of  the  full-grown 
mediaeval  man.  When  the  contents  of  patristic  Christianity 
and  the  surviving  antique  culture  had  been  conceived  anew, 
and  had  been  felt  as  well,  and  novel  forms  of  sentiment 
evolved,  at  last  comes  Dante  to  possess  the  whole,  to  think 
it,  feel  it,  visualize  its  sum,  and  make  of  it  a  poem.  He 
had  mastered  the  field  of  mediaeval  knowledge,  diligently 
cultivating  parts  of  it,  like  the  Graeco- Arabian  astronomy  ; 
he  thought  and  reasoned  in  the  terms  and  assumptions 
of  scholastic  (chiefly  Thomist-Aristotelian)  philosophy  ;  his 
intellectual  interests  were  mediaeval ;  he  felt  the  mediaeval 
reverence  for  the  past,  being  impassioned  with  the  ancient 
greatness  of  Rome  and  the  lineage  of  virtue  and  authority 
moving  from  it  to  him  and  thirteenth-century  Italy  and 
the  already  shattered  Holy  Roman  Empire.  He  took 
earnest  joy  in  the  Latin  Classics,  approaching  them  from 
mediaeval  points  of  view,  accepting  their  contents  un- 
critically. He  was  affected  with  the  preciosity  of  courtly 
or  chivalric  love,  which  Italy  had  made  her  own  along  with 
the  songs  of  the  Troubadours  and  the  poetry  of  northern 
France.  His  emotions  flowed  in  channels  of  current  con- 
vention, save  that  they  overfilled  them  ;  this  was  true  as 
to  his  early  love,  and  true  as  to  his  final  range  of  religious 
and  poetic  feeling.  His  was  the  emotion  and  the  cruelty 
of  mediaeval  religious  conviction  ;  while  in  his  mind  (so 
worked  the  genius  of  symbolism)  every  fact's  apparent 
meaning  was  clothed  with  the  significance  of  other  modes 
of  truth. 

Dante  was  also  an  Italian  of  the  period  in  which  he 
lived  ;  and  he  was  a  marvellous  poet.  One  may  note  in 
him  what  was  mediaeval,  what  was  specifically  Italian,  and 
what,  apparently,  was  personal.  This  scholar  could  not 


CHAP.  XLIII     THE  MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  535 

but  draw  his  education,  his  views  of  life  and  death,  his 
dominant  inclinations  and  the  large  currents  of  his  purpose, 
from  the  antecedent  mediaeval  period  and  the  still  greater 
past  which  had  worked  upon  it  so  mightily.  His  Italian 
nature  and  environment  gave  point  and  piquancy  and  very 
concrete  life  to  these  mediaeval  elements  ;  and  his  personal 
genius  produced  from  it  all  a  supreme  poetic  creation. 

The  Italian  part  of  Dante  comes  between  the  mediaeval 
and  the  personal,  as  species  comes  between  the  genus  and 
the  individual.  The  tremendous  feeling  which  he  discloses 
for  the  Roman  past  seems,  in  him,  specifically  Italian : 
child  of  Italy,  he  holds  himself  a  Latin  and  a  direct  heir 
of  the  Republic.  Yet  often  his  attitude  toward  the  antique 
will  be  that  of  mediaeval  men  in  general,  as  in  his  disposi- 
tion to  accept  ancient  myth  for  fact  ;  while  his  own  genius 
appears  in  his  beautifully  apt  appropriation  of  the  Virgilian 
incident  or  image ;  wherein  he  excels  his  "  Mantuan " 
master,  whose  borrowings  from  Homer  were  not  always 
felicitous.  Frequently  the  specifically  Italian  in  Dante,  his 
yearning  hate  of  Florence,  for  example,  may  scarcely  be 
distinguished  from  his  personal  temper  ;  but  its  civic  bitter- 
ness is  different  from  the  feudal  animosities  or  promiscuous 
rages  which  were  more  generically  mediaeval.  As  a  lighter 
example,  there  are  three  lines  in  the  fourth  canto  of  the 
Purgatorio  which  do  not  reflect  the  Middle  Ages,  nor  yet 
pertain  to  Dante's  character,  but  are,  we  feel,  Italian. 
They  are  these  :  "  Thither  we  drew  ;  and  there  were  persons 
who  were  staying  in  the  shadow  behind  the  rock,  as  one 
through  indolence  sets  himself  to  stay." 

Again,  Dante's  arguments  in  the  De  monarchia1  seem 
to  be  those  of  an  Italian  Ghibelline.  Yet  beyond  his  intense 
realization  of  Italy's  direct  succession  to  the  Roman  past,  his 
reasoning  is  scholastic  and  mediaeval,  or  springs  occasionally 
from  his  own  reflections.  The  Italian  contribution  to  the 
book  tends  to  coalesce  either  with  the  general  or  the 
personal  elements.  Dante  argues  that  the  rewards  or  fruits 
of  virtue  belonged  to  the  Roman  people  because  of  the  pre- 

1  In  view  of  the  enormous  literature  upon  Dante,  popular  as  well  as  learned, 
it  would  be  absurd  to  give  any  bibliographical,  biographical  or  historical  informa- 
tion as  to  his  works,  himself,  or  his  Italian  circumstances. 


536  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

eminent  virtue,  high  lineage,  and  royal  marriage-connections, 
of  their  ancestor  Aeneas.1  Here,  of  course,  the  statements 
of  Virgil  are  accepted  literally,  and  one  notes  that  while  the 
argument  is  mediaeval  in  its  absurdity,  it  will  be  made 
Italian  in  its  application.  Likewise  his  further  arguments 
making  for  the  same  conclusion,  however  Italianized  in 
their  pointing,  are  mediaeval,  or  patristic,  in  their  proven- 
ance :  for  example,  that  the  Roman  Empire  was  divinely 
helped  by  miracles  ;  that  the  divine  arbitrament  decided  the 
world-struggle  or  duellum  in  its  favour  ;  and  that  Christ  was 
born  and  suffered  legally  to  redeem  mankind  under  the 
Empire's  authority  and  jurisdiction.2  Moreover,  in  refuting 
the  very  mediaeval  papal  arguments  from  "  the  keys,"  from 
"  the  two  swords,"  and  from  the  analogy  of  the  sun  and 
moon,  Dante  himself  reasons  scholastically.3 

The  De  vulgari  eloquentia  illustrates  the  difference 
between  Dante  accepting  and  reproducing  mediaeval  views, 
and  Dante  thinking  for  himself.  In  opening  he  speaks  of 
mixing  the  stronger  potions  of  others  with  the  water  of  his 
own  talent,  to  make  a  beverage  of  sweetest  hydromel — we 
have  heard  such  phrases  before !  Then  the  first  chapters 
give  the  current  ideas  touching  the  nature  and  origin  of 
speech,  and  describe  the  confusion  of  language  at  the 
building  of  Babel :  each  group  of  workmen  engaged  in 
the  same  sort  of  work  found  themselves  speaking  a  new 
tongue  understood  only  by  themselves ;  while  the  sacred 
Hebrew  speech  endured  with  that  seed  of  Shem  who  had 
taken  no  part  in  the  impious  construction.  After  this 
foolishness,  the  eighth  chapter  of  Book  I.  becomes  startlingly 
intelligent  as  Dante  discusses  the  contemporary  Romance 
tongues  of  Europe  and  takes  up  the  idioma  which  uses  the 
particle  si.  Out  of  its  many  dialects  he  detaches  his  thought 
of  a  volgare,  a  mother  tongue,  which  shall  be  the  illustrious, 
noble,  and  courtly  speech  in  Latium,  and  shall  seem  to  be 
of  every  Latian  city  and  yet  of  none,  and  afford  a  standard 
by  which  the  speech  of  each  city  may  be  criticized.  The 
mediaeval  period  offers  no  such  penetrating  linguistic 
observation  ;  and  in  the  De  Vulgari  Eloquentia,  as  in  the 

1  Dz  man.  ii.  3.  2  De  num.  ii.  chaps.  4,  IO,  12. 

3  De  mon.  iii.  4  sqq. 


CHAP.  XLIII     THE  MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  537 

Convito,  Dante  is  deeply  conscious  of  the  worth  of  the 
Romance  vernacular. 

Written  in  the  volgare,  the  style  of  the  latter  nondescript 
work  bears  curious  likeness  to  scientific  Latin  writing.  The 
Latin  scholastic  thought  shows  plainly  through  this  involved 
and  scholastic  volgare,  while  the  scholastic  substance  is 
rendered  in  a  scarcely  altered  medium.  The  Convito  is 
indeed  a  curious  work  which  one  need  not  lament  that 
Dante  did  not  carry  out  to  its  mediaeval  interminableness  in 
fourteen  books.  The  four  that  he  wrote  suffice  to  show  its 
futility  and  apparent  confusion  in  conception  and  form. 
Besides  incidentally  explaining  the  thought  of  the  idyllic 
Vita  nuova,  it  professed  to  be  a  commentary  upon  fourteen 
of  Dante's  canzone,  the  meaning  of  which  had  been  mis- 
understood. Indeed  they  had  been  suspected  of  disclosing 
a  passion  bearing  a  morganatic  relationship  to  the  love 
of  Beatrice.  Truly  understood  they  referred  to  that  love 
which  is  the  love  of  knowledge,  philosophy  to  wit ;  and 
their  commentary  should  expound  that,  and  might  properly 
set  forth  the  contents  of  the  Seven  Liberal  Arts  and  the 
higher  divine  reaches  of  knowledge.  The  Convito  seems  also 
to  mark  a  stage  in  Dante's  life :  the  time  perhaps  when  he 
turned,  or  imagined  himself  as  turning,  to  philosophy  for 
consolation  in  youthful  grief,  or  the  time  perhaps  when  his 
nature  looked  coldly  upon  its  early  faith  and  sought  to 
stay  itself  with  rational  knowledge.  The  book  might  thus 
seem  a  De  consolatione  philosophiae,  after  the  temper,  if  not 
the  manner,  of  Boethius'  work,  which  then  was  much  in 
Dante's  mind.  Yet  it  was  to  be  a  setting  forth  of  know- 
ledge for  the  ignorant,  a  sort  of  Summa  contra  Gentiles,  as  is 
hinted  in  the  last  completed  chapter.  These  three  purposes 
fall  in  with  the  fact  that  the  work  was  apparently  the 
expression  of  Dante's  intellectual  nature,  and  of  his  spiritual 
condition  between  the  experience  of  the  Vita  nuova  and  the 
time  or  state  of  the  Commedia.1 

Certainly  the  Convito  gives  evidence  touching  the  writer's 
mental  processes  and  the  interests  of  his  mind.  Except  for 
its  lofty  advocacy  of  the  volgare  and  its  personal  apologetic 

1  All  this  seems  supported  by  Conv.  \.  i,  and  it  13,  the  main  explanatory 
chapters  of  the  work. 


538  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

references,  it  contains  little  that  is  not  blankly  mediaeval. 
And  had  it  kept  on  to  its  completion,  so  as  to  have  become 
no  torso,  but  a  full  Summa  or  Tesoro  of  liberal  knowledge, 
its  whimsical  form  as  a  commentary  upon  canzone  would 
have  made  it  one  of  the  most  bizarre  of  mediaeval  composi- 
tions. One  should  not  take  this  most  repellent  of  Dante's 
writings  as  an  adequate  expression  of  the  intellectual  side  of 
his  nature  ;  though  a  significant  phrase  may  be  drawn  from 
it :  "  Philosophy  is  a  loving  use  of  wisdom  (uno  amoroso  uso 
di  sapienza)  which  chiefly  is  in  God,  since  in  Him  is  utmost 
wisdom,  utmost  love,  and  utmost  actuality."  ]  A  loving  use 
of  wisdom — with  Dante  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  was  no 
mere  intellectual  search,  but  a  pilgrimage  of  the  whole 
nature,  loving  heart  as  well  as  knowing  mind,  and  the 
working  virtues  too.  This  pilgrimage  is  set  forth  in  the 
Commedia,  perhaps  the  supreme  creation  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  a  work  that  by  reason  of  the  beautiful  affinity  of 
its  speech  with  Latin,2  exquisitely  expressed  the  matters 
which  in  Latin  had  been  coming  to  formulation  through  the 
mediaeval  centuries. 

The  Commedia  (Inferno,  Purgatorio,  Paradiso)  is  a 
Summa,  a  Summa  salvationis,  a  sum  of  saving  knowledge. 
It  is  such  just  as  surely  as  the  final  work  of  Aquinas  is 
a  Summa  theologiae.  But  Aquinas  was  the  supreme 
mediaeval  theologian  -  philosopher,  while  Dante  was  the 
supreme  theologian  -  poet  ;  and  with  both  Aquinas  and 
Dante,  theology  includes  the  knowledge  of  all  things,  but 
chiefly  of  man  in  relation  to  God.  Such  was  the  matter  of 
the  divina  scientia  of  Thomas,  and  such  was  the  subject  of 
the  Commedia,  which  was  soon  recognized  as  the  Divina 
Commedia  in  the  very  sense  in  which  Theology  was  the 
divine  science.  The  Summa  of  Thomas  was  scientia  not 
only  in  substance,  but  in  form  ;  the  Commedia  was  scientia, 
or  sapientia,  in  substance,  while  in  form  it  was  a  poem,  the 
epic  of  man  the  pilgrim  of  salvation.  In  every  sense, 
Aristotelian  and  otherwise,  it  was  a  work  of  art  ;  and 
herein  if  we  cannot  compare  it  with  a  Summa,  we  may 
certainly  liken  it  to  a  Cathedral,  which  also  was  a  work  of 
art  and  a  Summa  salvationis  wrought  in  stone.  For  a 

1  Conv,  iii.  12.  2  e.g.  "  benigna  volant  ode"  Par.  xv.  i. 


CHAP.  XLIII     THE   MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  539 

Cathedral — it  is  the  great  French  type  we  have  in  mind — 
was  a  Summa  of  saving  knowledge,  as  well  as  a  place  for 
saving  acts.  And  presenting  the  substance  of  knowledge  in 
the  forms  of  art,  very  true  art,  the  matter  of  which  had  long 
been  pondered  on  and  loved  or  hated,  the  Cathedral  in  its 
feeling  and  beauty,  as  well  as  in  the  order  of  its  manifested 
thought,  was  a  Corn-media  ;  for  it  too  was  a  poem  with  a 
happy  ending,  at  least  for  those  who  should  be  saved. 

The  Cathedral  had  grown  from  dumb  barrel-vaulted 
Romanesque  to  Gothic,  speaking  in  all  the  terms  of  sculpture 
and  painted  glass.  It  grew  out  of  its  antecedents.  The 
Commedia  rested  upon  the  entire  evolution  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  Therein  had  lain  its  spiritual  preparation.  To  be 
sure  it  had  its  casual  forerunners  (precursor?) :  narratives,  real 
or  feigned,  of  men  faring  to  the  regions  of  the  dead.1  But 
these  signified  little  ;  for  everywhere  thoughts  of  the  other 
life  pressed  upon  men's  minds :  fear  of  it  blanched  their 
hearts  ;  its  heavenly  or  hellish  messengers  had  been  seen, 
and  not  a  few  men  dreamed  that  they  had  walked  within 
those  gates  and  witnessed  clanging  horrors  or  purgatorial 
pain.  Heaven  they  had  more  rarely  visited. 

Dante  gave  little  attention  to  any  so-called  "forerunners," 
save  only  two,  Paul  and  Virgil.  The  former  was  a  warrant 
for  the  poet's  reticence  as  to  the  manner  of  his  ascent  to 
Heaven ; 2  the  latter  supplied  much  of  his  scheme  of  Hell. 
Yet  there  were  one  or  two  others  possessed  of  some  affinity 
of  soul  with  the  great  Florentine,  who  perhaps  knew  nothing 
of  them.  One  of  these  was  Hildegard  of  Bingen,  with  her 
vision  of  the  spirits  in  the  cloud,  and  her  pungent  sights  of 
the  bitterness  of  the  pains  of  hell.3  Another  sort  of  affinity- 
is  disclosed  in  the  allegorical  Antidaudianus  of  Alanus  de 
Insulis,  in  which  Reason  can  take  Prudentia  just  so  far 
upon  her  heavenly  journey,  and  then  gives  place  to 
Theology,  even  as  Virgil,  symbol  of  rational  wisdom,  gives 

1  Cf.  A.  d'  Ancona,  /  Precursori  di  Dante  (Florence,  1874) ;  M.  Dods,  Fore- 
runners  of  Dante  (Edinburgh,  1903);  A.J.  Butler,  Forerunners  of  Dante  (Oxford, 
1910) ;  Hettinger,  Gottliche  A'omodie,  p.  79  (2nded.,  Freiburg im  Breisgau,  1889). 
Mussafia,    "  Monument!  antichi  di  dialetti    italiani,"   Sitzungsber.  philos.    knt. 
Classe  (Vienna  Academy),  vol.  45,   1864,  p.    136  sff.,  gives  two  old  ItalUn 
descriptions,  one  of  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  the  other  of  the  infernal  Babylon. 

2  2  Cor.  xii.  2  ;  Paradho,  i.  73'75- 

3  Ante,  Chapter  XIX. 


540  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

place  to  Beatrice  at  the  summit  of  the  Mount  of  Purgatory.1 
Dante  might  have  drawn  still  more  enlightenment  from  the 
De  sacramentis  of  Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  in  which  the  rational 
basis  of  the  universal  scheme  of  things  is  shown  to  lie  in  the 
principle  of  allegorical  intendment.  Yet  one  finds  few  traces 
of  Hugo  in  Dante  except  through  Hugo's  pupil,  Richard, 
whose  works  he  had  read.  That  such  apt  forerunners  should 
scarcely  have  affected  him  shows  how  he  was  taught  and 
inspired,  not  by  individuals,  but  by  the  entire  Middle  Ages. 

One  observes  mediaeval  characteristics  in  the  Commedia 
raised  to  a  higher  power.  The  mediaeval  period  was  marked 
by  contrasts  of  quality  and  of  conduct  such  as  cannot  be 
found  in  the  antique  or  the  modern  age.  And  what  other 
poem  can  vie  with  the  Commedia  in  contrasts  of  the  beautiful 
and  the  loathsome,  the  heavenly  and  the  hellish,  exquisite 
refinement  of  expression  and  lapses  into  the  reverse,2  love 
and  hate,  pity  and  cruelty,  reverence  and  disdain  ?  These 
contrasts  not  only  are  presented  by  the  story  ;  they  evince 
themselves  in  the  character  of  the  author.  Many  scenes  of 
the  Inferno  are  loathsome  : 3  Dante's  own  words  and  conduct 
there  may  be  cruel  and  hateful 4  or  show  tender  pity  ;  and 
every  reader  knows  the  poetic  beauty  which  glorifies  the 
Paradise,  renders  lovely  the  Purgatorio,  and  ever  and  anon 
breaks  through  the  gloom  of  Hell. 

Another  mediaeval  quality,  sublimated  in  Dante's  poem, 
is  that  of  elaborate  plan,  intended  symmetry  of  composition, 
the  balance  of  one  incident  or  subject  against  another.5 
And  finally  one  observes  the  mediaeval  inclusiveness  which 
belongs  to  the  scope  and  purpose  of  the  Commedia  as  a 
Sumnta  of  salvation.  Dante  brings  in  everything  that  can 
illuminate  and  fill  out  his  theme.  Even  as  the  Summa  of  St. 
Thomas,  so  the  Commedia  must  present  a  whole  doctrinal 
scheme  of  salvation,  and  leave  no  loopholes,  loose  ends, 
broken  links  of  argument  or  explanation. 

1  Ante,  pp.  98-100. 

2  The  coarseness  of  Inf.  xxi.  137-139  is  of  a  piece  with  the  way  of  mediaeval 
art  in  making  demons  horrible  through  a  grotesquely  indecent  rendering  of  their 
persons. 

3  e.g.  Inf.  xviii.  100  sqq.  ;  and  Inf.  xxviii.  and  xxix. 

4  Inf.  viii.  37  sqq.  ;  xxxii.  97  sqq.  ;  xxxiii.  116  and  149. 
6  Cf.  Moore,  Dante  Studies,  vol.  ii.  pp.  266-267. 


CHAP.  XLIII     THE  MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  541 

The  substance  of  the  Corn-media,  practically  its  whole 
content  of  thought,  opinion,  sentiment,  had  source  in  the 
mediaeval  store  of  antique  culture  and  the  partly  affiliated, 
if  not  partly  derivative,  Latin  Christianity.  The  mediaeval 
appreciation  of  the  Classics,  and  of  the  contents  of  ancient 
philosophy,  is  not  to  be  so  very  sharply  distinguished  from 
the  attitude  of  the  fifteenth  or  sixteenth,  nay,  if  one  will, 
the  eighteenth,  century,  when  the  Federalist  in  the  young 
inchoately  united  States,  and  many  an  orator  in  the  revolu- 
tionary assemblies  of  France,  quoted  Cicero  and  Plutarch  as 
arbiters  of  civic  expediency.  Nevertheless,  if  we  choose  to 
recognize  deference  to  ancient  opinion,  acceptance  of  antique 
myth  and  poetry  as  fact,1  unbounded  admiration  for  a  shadowy 
and  much  distorted  ancient  world,  as  characterizing  the 
mediaeval  attitude  toward  whatever  once  belonged  to  Rome 
and  Greece,  then  we  must  say  that  such  also  is  Dante's  attitude, 
scholar  as  he  was  ;2  and  that  in  his  use  of  the  Classics  he 
differed  from  other  mediaeval  men  only  in  so  far  as  above 
them  all  he  was  a  poet. 

Lines  of  illustrative  examples  begin  with  the  opening 
canto  of  the  Inferno,  where  Dante  addresses  Virgil  as  famoso 
saggio,  an  appellative  strictly  corresponding  with  the  current 
mediaeval  view  of  the  "  Mantuan."  Mediaeval  also  is  the 
grouping  of  the  great  poets  who  rise  to  meet  Virgil,  first 
Homer,  then  Orazio  satiro,  and  Ovid  and  Lucan.8  More 

1  Any  one  who  looks  through  the  first  volume  of  Tiraboschi's  great  Storia 
delta  letteratura  italiana,  written  in  the  early  part  of  the  nineteenth  century,  will 
find  a  generous  acceptance  of  myth  as  fact ;  just  as  he  would  find  the  same  in  the 
Histoirc  andenne  of  the  good  Rollin,  written  a  century  or  more  before. 

2  Dante  has  frequently  been  spoken  of  as  the  "  first  scholar  "  of  his  time.     I 
do  not  myself  know  enough  regarding  the  scholarship  of  every  scholar  in  the 
thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries  to  confirm  or  deny  this.      Personally,  I  do 
not  regard  him  as  a  Titanic  scholar,  like  Albertus  Magnus  for  example.     He 
studied  all   the  classic   Latin  authors  available.     Doubtless  he  had  a  memory 
corresponding  to  his  other  extraordinary  powers.     His  also  was  the  intellectual 
point  of  view,  and  the  intellectual  interest  in  knowledge  and  its  deductions.    His 
view  of  life  was  as  intellectual  as  that  of  Aquinas.     But  as  Dante's  powers  of 
plastic  visualization  were  unequalled,  so  also,  it  seems  to  me,  were  his  faculties 
of  using  as  a  poet  what  he  had  acquired  as  a  scholar.     Regarding  the  extent  of 
Dante's  use  and  reading  of  the  Classics,  nothing  could  be  added  to  Dr.  Moore's 
Studies  in  Dante,  First  Series ;  though  I  think  what  Dr.  Moore  has  to  say  of 
"  Dante  and  Aristotle  "  would  have  cast  a  more  direct  light  upon  the  matter,  had 
he  cited  as  far  as  possible  from  the  Latin  translation  probably  used  by  Dante, 
instead  of  from  the  original  Greek. 

3  Inf.  iv.  88.     Cf.   Moore,  Studies  in  Dante,  i.  p.  6.     The  application  of 
the  term  satirist  to  Horace  is  peculiarly  mediaeval. 


542  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

narrowly  mediaeval,  that  is,  pertaining  particularly  to  the 
thirteenth  century,  is  Dante's  profound  reverence  for  the 
authority  of  Aristotle,  il  maestro  di  color  che  sanno}  It  may 
be  that  the  poet's  sense  of  the  enormous,  elect ,  importance 
of  Aeneas,2  and  his  putting  Rhipeus,  most  righteous  of  the 
Trojans,  as  the  fifth  regal  spirit  in  the  Eagle's  eye,3  belonged 
more  especially  to  Dante  as  the  Ghibelline  author  of  the  De 
monarchia.  But  generically  mediaeval  was  his  acceptance 
of  antique  myth  for  fact,  a  most  curious  instance  of  which  is 
his  referring  to  the  consuming  of  Meleager  with  the  con- 
suming of  the  brand,  to  illustrate  a  point  of  physiological 
psychology.4  Antique  heroes,  even  monsters,  seem  as  real 
to  him  as  the  people  of  Scripture  and  history.  It  is  not, 
however,  his  mediaevalism,  but  his  own  greatness  that 
enables  him  to  lift  his  treatment  of  them  to  the  level  of 
their  presentation  in  the  Classics.  Noble  as  an  antique  demi- 
god is  the  damned  Jason,  silent  and  tearless,  among  the 
scourged  ; 5  and  Ulysses  is  as  great  in  the  tale  he  tells  from 
out  the  lambent  flame  as  he  was  in  the  palace  of  Alcinoos, 
telling  the  tale  which  Dante  never  read.6 

The  poet,  especially  in  the  Purgatorio,  constantly  balances 
moral  examples  alternately  drawn  from  pagan  and  sacred 
story.  This  propensity  was  quite  mediaeval ;  for  through- 
out the  Middle  Ages  the  antique  authority  was  used  to 
fortify  or  parallel  the  Christian  argument.  Yet  herein,  as 
always,  Dante  is  Dante  as  well  as  a  mediaeval  man  ;  and  his 
moral  examples,  for  the  aid  of  souls  who  are  purging  them- 
selves for  Heaven,  are  interesting  and  curious  enough.  On 
the  pavement  of  the  first  ledge  of  Purgatory,  Lucifer  is 
figured  falling  from  Heaven  and  Briareus  transfixed  by  the 
bolt  of  Jove  ;  then  Nimrod,  Niobe,  Saul,  Arachne,  Rehoboam, 
Eriphyle  and  Sennacherib,  the  Assyrians  routed  after  Holo- 
phernes'  death,  and  Troy  in  ashes.7  On  the  third  ledge, 
.as  instances  of  gentle  forgivingness,  he  sees  in  vision  the 
Virgin  Mary,  and  then  appear  Peisistratus  (tyrant  of  Athens) 
refusing  to  avenge  himself,  and  Stephen  asking  pardon  for 
.his  slayers.8  But  the  most  wonderful  instance  of  this  com- 

1  Inf.  iv.  131.  2  Inf.  ii.  20.  3  Par.  xx.  68. 

4  Purg.  xxv.  22.  6  Inf.  xviii.  83  sqq.  6  Inf.  xxvi.  88  sqq. 

1  Purg.  xii.  8  Purg.  xv. 


CHAP.XLIII     THE  MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  543 

birring  of  the  Christian  and  the  antique,  each  at  its  height 
of  feeling,  occurs  in  the  thirtieth  canto  of  the  Purgatorio, 
where  angels  herald  the  appearance  of  Beatrice  with  the 
chant,  Benedictus  qui  vents,  and,  as  they  scatter  flowers,  sing 
Manibus  o  date  lilia  plenis.  This  unison  of  the  hail  to  Christ 
upon  His  sacrificial  entry  into  Jerusalem  and  the  Virgilian 
heartbreak  over  the  young  Marcellus,  shows  how  Dante  rose 
in  his  combinings,  and  how  potent  an  element  of  his  imagina- 
tion was  the  antique.1 

Of  course  the  plan  of  Hell  reflects  the  sixth  Book 
of  the  Aeneid,  and  throughout  the  whole  Coin-media  the 
Virgilian  phrase  rises  aptly  to  the  poet's  lips.  "  Thou 
wouldst  that  I  renew  the  desperate  grief  which  presses  my 
heart  even  before  I  put  it  into  words,"  says  Ugolino,  nearly 
as  Aeneas  speaks  to  Dido.2  And  in  the  Paradiso  the  power 
of  the  Dantesque  reminiscence  rouses  the  reader,  spiritually 
as  it  were,  to  emulate  the  glorious  ones  who  passed  to 
Colchos.3  A  more  desperate  passage  was  the  lot  of  those 
who  must  drop  from  Acheron's  bank  into  Charon's  boat  ; — 
the  whole  scene  here  is  quite  reminiscent  of  Virgil.  The 
simile  : 

"  Quam  multa  in  silvis  auctumni  frigore  primo 
Lapsa  cadunt  folia," 

is  even  beautified  and  made  more  pregnant  with  significance 
in  Dante's 

"  Come  d'  autunno  si  levan  le  foglie 
L'  una  appresso  dell'  altra  .   .  ."* 

On  the  other  hand,  the  threefold  attempt  of  Aeneas  to 
embrace  Anchises  is  stripped  of  its  beautiful  dream-simile 
in  Dante's  use.5  A  lovelier  bit  of  borrowing  is  that  of  the 
quick  springing  up  again  of  the  rush,  the  symbol  of  humility, 
/'  umile  pianta,  with  which  the  poet  is  girt  before  proceeding 
up  the  Mount  of  Purgatory.6 

1  According  to  Dr.  Moore,  Dante  quotes  or  refers  to  the  "  Vulgate  more  thai) 
500  times,  to  Aristotle  more  than  300,  Virgil  about  200,  Ovid  about  too,  Cicero 
and  Lucan   about   50  each,    Statius  and   Boethius   between    30    and    40  each, 
Horace,   Livy,  and  Orosius  between  10  and   20  each," — and  other  scattering 
references. 

2  Inf.  xxxiii.  4  ;  Aen.  ii.  3.  3  Par.  ii.  16. 

4  Aen.  vi.  309  ;  Inf.  iii.  1 1 2.  6  Aen.  ri.  700  ;  Purg.  \\.  80. 

6  Purg.  i.  135  ;  cf.  Aen.  vi.  143  "  Primo  avulso  non  deficit  alter,  etc.  " 


544  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

With  Dante  the  pagan  antique  represented  much  that 
was  philosophically  true,  if  not  veritably  divine.  In  his 
mind,  apparently,  the  heathen  good  stood  for  the  Christian 
good,  and  the  conflict  of  the  heathen  deities  with  Titan 
monsters  symbolized,  if  indeed  it  did  not  continue  to  make 
part  of,  the  Christian  struggle  against  the  power  of  sin.1 
We  may  be  jarred  by  the  apostrophe  : 

".   .   .  O  sommo  Giove, 
Che  fosti  in  terra  per  noi  crucifisso."  2 

But  this  is  a  kind  of  Christian-antique  phrase  by  no  means 
unexampled  in  mediaeval  poetry.  And  we  feel  the  poetic 
breadth  and  beauty  of  the  invocation  in  which  Apollo 
symbolizes  or  represents,  exactly  what  we  will  not  presume 
to  say,  but  at  all  events  some  veritable  spiritual  power,  as 
Minerva  does,  apparently,  in  another  passage.3  In  such 
instances  the  antique  image  which  beautifies  the  poem  is 
transfigured  to  a  Christian  symbol,  if  it  does  not  present 
actual  truth. 

Yet  however  universally  Dante's  mind  was  solicited  by 
the  antique  matter  and  his  poet's  nature  charmed,  he  was 
profoundly  and  mediaevally  Christian.  The  Commedia  is  a 
mediaeval  Christian  poem.  Its  fabric,  springing  from  the 
life  of  earth,  enfolds  the  threefold  quasi-other  world  of 
damned,  of  purging,  and  of  finally  purified,  spirits.  It  is 
dramatic  and  doctrinal.  Its  drama  of  action  and  suffering, 
like  the  narratives  of  Scripture,  offers  literal  fact,  moral 
teaching,  and  allegorical  or  spiritual  significance.  The 
doctrinal  contents  are  held  partly  within  the  poem's  dramatic 
action  and  partly  in  expositions  which  are  not  fused  in  the 
drama.  Thus  whatever  else  it  is,  the  poem  is  a  Summa 
of  saving  doctrine,  which  is  driven  home  by  illustrations  of 
the  sovereign  good  and  abysmal  ill  coming  to  man  under 
the  providence  of  God.  One  may  perhaps  discern  a  twofold 
purpose  in  it,  since  the  poet  works  out  his  own  salvation 
and  gives  precepts  and  examples  to  aid  others  and  help 
truth  and  righteousness  on  earth.  The  subject  is  man  as 

1  See  Inf.  xxxi.  ;  Purg.  xii.  25  sqq. 

4  Purg.  vi.  1 1 8  :  "  O  highest  Jove  that  wast  on  earth  crucified  for  us. 
3  Par.  i.  13  sqq.  ;  Par.  ii.  8. 


CHAP.  XLIII     THE  MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  545 

rewarded  or  punished  eternally  by  God — says  Dante  in  the 
letter  to  Can  Grande.  This  subject  could  hardly  be  con- 
ceived as  veritable,  and  still  less  could  it  be  executed,  by  a 
poet  who  had  no  care  for  the  effect  of  his  poem  upon  men. 
Dante  had  such  care.  But  whether  he,  who  was  first  and 
always  a  poet,  wrote  the  Commedia  in  order  to  lift  others 
out  of  error  to  salvation,  or  even  in  order  to  work  out  his 
own  salvation, — let  him  say  who  knows  the  mind  of  Dante. 
No  divination,  however,  is  required  to  trace  the  course  of  the 
saving  teaching,  which,  whether  dramatically  exemplified  or 
expounded  in  doctrinal  statement,  is  embodied  in  the  great 
poem  ;  nor  is  it  hard  to  note  how  Dante  drew  its  substance 
from  the  mediaeval  past. 

The  Inferno,  which  is  the  most  dramatic  and  realistic, 
"  Dantesque,"  part  of  the  Commedia,  and  replete  with 
terrestrial  interest,  is  doctrinally  the  least  rich.  Its  doctrine 
chiefly  lies  in  its  scheme  of  punishment,  or  divine  vengeance, 
for  different  sins.  Herein  Dante  followed  no  set  series  like 
the  seven  deadly  sins  expiated  in  Purgatory.  Neither  the 
Church  nor  authoritative  writers  had  laid  out  the  plan  of 
Hell.  Dante  had  in  mind  Thomas  Aquinas  and  Aristotle, 
also  Cicero's  De  officiis^  and,  structurally,  Virgil.  His 
scheme  also  was  affected  by  his  own  character,  situation,  and 
aversions,  and  assuredly  by  the  movement  of  its  own 
composition.  At  the  mouth  of  Hell  the  worthless  nameless 
ones  and  the  neutral  angels  receive  their  due.  Then  after 
the  sad  calm  of  the  place  of  the  unbaptized  and  the  great 
blameless  heathen,  the  veritable  Hell  begins,  and  the  series  of 
tortures  unfold,  the  lightest  being  such  as  punish  incon- 
tinence, while  the  most  awful  are  reserved  for  those  fraudulent 
ones  who  have  betrayed  a  trust.  Dante's  power  of  pre- 
senting the  humanly  loathsome  does  not  let  the  progress  of 
hellish  torment  fail  in  climax  even  to  the  end,  where  Brutus, 
Cassius,  and  Judas  are  crunched  in  the  dripping  mouths  of 
Lucifer  at  the  bottom  of  the  lowest  pit  of  Hell. 

1  The  provenance,  etc.,  of  Dante's  classification  of  sins  in  the  Inferno,  like 
everything  else  in  Dante,  has  been  interminably  discussed.  The  reference  to 
the  De  oficiis  of  Cicero  is  due  to  Dr.  Moore.  See  "  Classification  of  Sins  in  the 
Inferno  and  Purgatorio,"  Studies  in  Dante,  2nd  Series.  Also  cf.  Hettinger, 
Die  g'dttlictie  Kbmodie,  pp.  159-162,  and  notes  6  and  23  on  p.  204  and  207 
(2nd  ed.,  Freiburg  in  Breisgau,  1889).  Dante's  main  statement  is  in  Inf.  xi. 

VOL.  II  2   N 


546  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

The  general  idea  of  hell  torments  came  to  the  poet  from 
current  beliefs  and  authoritative  utterances,  ranging  from 
the  "  outer  darkness "  of  the  Gospel  to  the  lurid  oratory 
of  St.  Bernard.  Dante's  thoughts  were  drawn  generically 
from  the  stores  of  mediaeval  convictions,  approvals,  and 
imaginings :  they  were  given  to  him  by  his  epoch.  Of 
necessity — innocently,  one  may  say — he  made  them  into 
concrete  realities  because  he  was  Dante.  Terrifying  phrases 
and  crude  ghastliness  were  raised  through  his  dramatic 
power  to  living  experiences.  The  reader  goes  through  Hell, 
sees  with  his  own  eyes,  hears  with  his  own  ears,  and  stifles 
in  the  choking  air.  Doubtless  the  narrative  brought  fear 
and  contrition  to  the  men  of  Dante's  time.  But  for  us  the 
disproportion  of  the  vengeance  to  the  crime,  the  outrage  of 
everlasting  torments  for  momentary,  even  impulsive  sin,  is 
shocking  and  preposterous.1  The  torments  themselves 
present  conditions  which  become  unthinkable  when  we  try 
to  conceive  them  as  enduring  eternally.  Human  flesh,  or 
implicated  spirit,  could  not  last  beneath  them.  And  as  for 
our  impulses,  there  is  many  a  tortured  soul  with  whom  we 
would  keep  company,  for  instance,  with  the  excellent  band 
of  Sodomites — Priscian  (!)  Brunetto  Latini,  and  those  three 
Florentines  whose  "  honoured  names  "  the  poet  greets  with 
reverence  and  affection.2  One  might  even  wish  to  make  a 
third  in  the  flame  which  enwraps  Diomede  and  Ulysses.  In 
fact,  Dante's  dramatic  genius  has  brought  the  mediaeval  hell 
to  a  reductio  ad  absurdum,  to  our  minds. 

The  poet  is  of  it  too.  He  can  pity  those  who  touch 
his  pity.  And  how  great  he  can  be,  how  absolute.  There 
is  compacted  in  the  story  of  Francesca  all  that  can  be 
thought  or  felt  over  unhappy  love.  Yet  Dante  never  doubts 
the  justice  of  the  punishment  he  describes ;  sometimes  he 
calmly  or  cruelly  approves.  Nd  mio  bel  San  Giovanni ! 
How  many  thousands  have  quoted  these  detached  words  to 
show  the  poef  s  love  of  his  beautiful  baptistery.  But,  in  fact, 
he  refers  to  the  little  cylindrical  places  where  stood  the 


1  In  whom  does  not  the  awful  anguish  of  the  suicides  (Inf.  xiiL)  arouse 
grief  and  horror  ? 

*  Inf.  xvL  59.  They  are  more  respectable  than  the  blessed  denizens  of  the 
Heaven  of  Venus,  Pear.  Ls. 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  547 

baptizing  priests,  in  order  to  bring  home  to  the  reader  the 
size  of  the  holes  in  the  burning  rock  from  which  protruded 
the  quivering  feet  of  Simoniacs !  *  It  appears  that  the 
souls  of  all  the  damned  will  suffer  more  when  they  shall 
again  be  joined  to  their  bodies  after  the  resurrection.2 

The  Inferno  fully  exemplifies  the  doctrinal  statement 
obscurely  set  over  the  gate  which  shut  out  hope :  moved  by 
justice,  the  Trinity,  "  divine  power,  supreme  wisdom,  primal 
love,  created  me  (Hell)  to  endure  eternally."  Dante  follows 
this  current  authoritative  opinion,  stated  by  Aquinas.  Here 
one  may  repeat  that  Dante  is  the  child  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
rather  than  a  disciple  of  any  single  teacher.  If  he  follows 
Aquinas  more  than  any  other  scholastic,  he  follows  Bona- 
ventura  also  with  breadth  and  balance.  These  two, 
however,  were  themselves  final  results  of  lines  of  previous 
development  Both  were  rational  and  also  mystically 
contemplative,  though  the  former  quality  predominates  in 
Thomas  and  the  latter  in  Bonaventura.  And  in  Dante's 
poem,  at  the  end  of  the  Paradise^  Theology,  the  rational 
apprehension  of  divine  truth,  gives  place  to  contemplation's 
loftier  insight  Dante  is  kin  to  both  these  men  ;  but  when 
he  thinks,  more  frequently  he  thinks  like  Thomas,  and  the 
intellectual  realization  of  life  is  dominant  with  him.  This 
was  evident  in  the  Convito  ;  and  that  the  intellectual  vision 
constitutes  the  substance  of  the  Comnudia^  becomes 
luminously  apparent  in  the  Paradiso?  It  is  even  suggested 
at  the  gate  of  Hell,  within  which  the  wretched  people  will  be 
seen,  who  have  lost  the  good  of  the  Intellect,4  by  which  is 
meant  knowledge  of  God. 

The  Purgatorio  presents  more  saving  doctrine  than  the 
cantica  of  damnation.  Its  Mount,  with  the  earthly  paradise 
at  the  top,  may  have  been  his  own,  but  might  have  been 
taken  from  the  Venerable  Bede  or  Albertus  Magnus.5  The 
ante-purgatory  appears  as  a  creation  of  the  poet,  influenced 
by  certain  passages  of  the  Aeneid  and  by  ancient  disciplinary 
practices  which  kept  the  penitents  waiting  outside  the 

1  Inf.  xix.  *  I*f.  vL  103  sff. 

*  The  intellectual  temperament  finds  voice  in  many  great  expressions,  which 
are  very  Dante  and  also  very  Thomas,  as  Par.  xxviii.  106-114;  oix.  17; 
xxx.  40-42. 

«  Inf.  Si.  1 8.  *  Hettinger,  o.i.  p,  254- 


548  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

church.1  The  teaching  of  the  whole  cantica  relates  to  the 
purgation  of  pride,  envy,  anger,  accidia  (sloth),  avarice, 
gluttony,  lust.  These  are  the  seven  deadly  sins  whose 
provenance  is  early  monasticism.2  Through  their  purgation 
man  is  made  pure  and  fit  to  mount  to  the  stars. 

We  shall  not  follow  Dante  through  the  Purgatorio  and 
Paradiso,  or  observe  in  detail  the  teachings  set  forth  and 
the  sources  whence  they  were  derived.3  But  a  brief  reference 
to  the  successive  incidents  and  topics  of  instruction  will  show 
how  the  Commedia  touches  every  key  of  saving  doctrine. 
The  soul  entering  Purgatory  goes  seeking  liberty  from  sin,4 
and  as  a  first  lesson  learns  to  detach  itself  from  memories  of 
the  damned.5  It  receives  some  slight  suggestion  of  the 
limits  of  human  reason  ; 6  and  is  told  that  according  to  the 
correct  teaching  there  is  one  soul  in  man  with  several 
faculties.7  It  learns  the  risk  of  repentance  in  the  hour  of 
death ; 8  and  the  efficacy  of  the  prayers  of  others  to  help 
souls  through  their  purifying  expiation ;  also,  that,  after 
death,  souls  can  advance  only  by  the  aid  of  grace.9  The 
symbolism  of  the  gate  of  Purgatory  teaches  the  need  of 
contrition  and  confession.  Upon  the  first  ledge,  the  proud  do 
penance,  disciplined  with  examples  of  humility,  and  through 
the  Lord's  Prayer  are  taught  man's  entire  dependence  upon 
God.  It  is  fitting  that  Pride  should  be  the  first  sin  expiated, 
since  it  lies  at  the  base  of  all  sins  in  the  Christian  scheme. 
Much  doctrine  is  inculcated  by  the  treatment  of  the  different 
sins  and  the  appositeness  of  the  hymns  sung  by  the 
penitents.10 

Ascending  the  second  ledge,  Virgil,  i.e.  human  reason, 
expounds  the  first  principles  of  the  doctrine  of  that  love 
which  is  of  the  Good.11  Next  is  set  forth  the  theory  of 
human  free-will  and  the  effect  of  the  spheres  in  directing 

1  Aeneid\\.  327  sqq.;  Hettinger,  o.c.  p.  226. 

2  See  Taylor,  Classical  Heritage,  p.  162. 

3  These  are  pointed  out  in  the  Commentaries  (e.g.  Scartazzini's)  and  in  many 
monographs.       Hettinger's    Gottliche    KomiJdic    is    serviceable :    also    Moore's 
Studies  in  Dante  and  Toynbee's  Dante  Studies. 

4  Purg.  i.  7 1  ;  John  viii.  36. 

6  Purg.  i.  89.  •  Purg.  iii.  34  sqq. 

7  Purg.  iv.  4  sqq.  8  Purg.  v.  105  sqq. 

9  Purg.  vii.  54;  iv.  133-135.  10  Cf.  e.g.  Purg.  xii.  109. 

11  Purg.  xv.  40  sqq. 


CHAP.  XLIII     THE  MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  549 

human  inclination — all  in  strict  accord  with  the  teaching  of 
Thomas ; l  and  then,  still  in  accord  with  Thomas,  the  fuller 
nature  of  love  (or  desire)  is  expounded,  and  the  allotment  of 
purgatorial  pains  in  expiation  of  the  various  modes  of  evil 
desire  or  failure  to  love  aright.2  These  fitting  pains  are  as 
a  solace  to  the  soul  yearning  to  accomplish  its  purgation.8 
Next,  generation  is  explained,  the  creation  of  the  soul,  and 
the  manner  of  its  existence  after  separation  from  the  body, 
according  to  dominant  scholastic  theories.4  In  the  concluding 
cantos  of  the  Purgatorio,  much  Church  doctrine  is  symbolically 
set  forth  by  the  Mystic  Procession  and  the  rivers  of  the 
earthly  paradise,  Lethe  and  Eunoe — the  latter  representing 
sacramental  grace  through  which  good  works,  killed  by  later 
sins,  are  made  to  live  again.5  The  earthly  paradise  symbolizes 
the  perfect  happiness  of  life  in  the  flesh,  and  the  state  wherein 
man  is  fit  to  pass  to  the  heavenly  Paradise. 

Besides  doctrine  directly  bearing  on  Salvation,  the 
Commedia  contains  explanations  by  the  way,  needed  to 
understand  Dante's  journey  through  the  earth  and  heavens, 
and  give  it  verisimilitude.  Apparently  these  explanations 
were  also  intended  to  afford  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  the 
structure  of  the  universe.  The  Paradiso  abounds  in  this 
kind  of  information,  largely  physical  and  astronomical.  Its 
first  canto  offers  a  general  statement,  beautifully  put,  of  the 
ordering  of  created  things.  In  this  instance,  the  instruction 
is  not  exclusively  astronomical  or  physical,6  but  touches  upon 
animated  creatures,  and  follows  Thomist  teaching.  Another 
interesting  instance  is  the  explanation  in  the  second  canto 
of  the  spots  on  the  moon  and  then  of  the  influence  of  the 
heavens.  Here  the  astronomical  matter  runs  on  into  elucida- 
tions touching  human  nature,  even  that  human  nature  which 
is  to  be  saved  through  saving  doctrine.  In  this  way  the 
Christian -Thomist -Dantesque  scheme  of  knowledge  holds 
together.  The  Commedia  is  the  pilgrimage  of  the  soul  after 

1  Purg.  xvi.  64  sqq. 

2  Purg.  xvii.  85  sqq.,  and  xviii. ;  Hettinger,  o.c.  p.  235  sqq.,  and  pp.  261-264. 

3  Purg.  xxiii.  72  ;  xxvi.   14. 

4  Purg.   xxv.      The  notes  in  Hettinger,  o.c.,  are  quite   full   in   citations  of 
passages  from  Thomas  and  other  scholastics. 

6  Thomas,  Summa,  iii.  Qu.  89,  Art.  5. 
6  As  it  is  rather  in  far.  xxvii.  76  sqq. 


550  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

all  wisdom,  and  includes,  implicitly  at  least,  the  matter  of 
the  Convito. 

The  Paradiso  contains  the  chief  store  of  saving  knowledge. 
It  sets  forth  the  ultimate  problems  of  human  life  and  divine 
salvation,  with  due  emphasis  laid  upon  the  limitations  of 
human  understanding.  Dante,  conscious  of  the  strenuousness 
of  his  high  argument,  warns  off  all  but  the  chosen  few. 

A  first  point  learned  in  the  heavenly  voyage  is  that  no 
soul  in  Paradise  desires  aught  save  what  it  has ;  since  such 
desire  would  contravene  the  will  of  God.  Paradise  is  every- 
where in  Heaven,  though  the  divine  grace  rains  not  upon  all 
in  one  mode.1  Beatified  souls  do  not  dwell  in  any  particular 
star,  though  Plato  seems  to  say  so.  Scripture  condescends 
to  figure  the  intelligible  under  the  guise  of  sensible  forms,  as 
Plato  may  have  done.2  Broken  vows  and  their  reparation 
are  now  considered.  Then  the  history  of  the  Roman  Eagle 
brings  out  the  fact  that  Christ  was  crucified  under  Tiberius 
and  His  death  avenged  by  Titus,  which  leads  on  to  the 
explanation  of  the  Fall  and  the  Redemption,  occupying  the 
seventh  canto.  The  next  offers  comment  upon  the  divine 
goodness  and  the  diversity  of  human  lots  ;  and  shows  how 
the  bitter  may  rise  from  the  sweet.  With  deep  consistency 
the  poet  exclaims  against  the  insensate  toilsome  reasonings 
through  which  mortals  beat  their  wings  downward,  away 
from  God.3 

In  canto  thirteen  the  reader  is  enlightened  regarding  the 
wisdom  of  Adam,  of  Solomon,  and  of  Christ ;  and  then  as 
to  the  existence  of  the  beatified  soul  before  and  after  it 
is  clothed  with  the  glorified  body  of  the  Resurrection.4 
Incidentally  the  justice  of  eternal  punishment  is  adverted 
to.5  The  depth  of  the  divine  righteousness  is  next  presented,6 
and  its  application  to  the  heathen,  with  illustrations  of  God's 
saving  ways,  in  the  instances  of  certain  princes  who  loved 
righteousness,  including  Trajan  and  the  Trojan  Rhipeus.7 
The  incomprehensibility  of  Predestination  next  receives 
attention. 

Now  intervenes  the  marvellous  and  illuminative  beauty 
of  canto  twenty-three,  preceding  Dante's  declaration  of  his 

1  Par.  iii.  52,  64,  89.  2  Par.  iv.  3  Par.  xi.  I  sqq.          *  Par.  xiv. 

6  Par.  xv.  10.  6  Par.  xix.  40  sqq.  7  Par.  xx. 


CHAP.XUII     THE   MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  551 

creed,  upon  interrogatories  from  the  apostles,  Peter,  James, 
and  John.  In  this  way  he  states  the  dogmatic  funda- 
mentals of  the  Christian  Faith,  and  the  substantiating  rdles 
of  philosophic  argument  and  authority.1  After  this,  the 
vision  of  the  hierarchies  of  angels  leads  on  to  discourse 
upon  their  creation  and  nature,  the  immediate  fall  of  those 
who  fell,  the  exaltation  of  the  steadfast  with  added  grace, 
and  the  mode  and  measure  of  their  knowledge.  Thomas 
is  followed  in  this  scholastic  argument. 

With  the  vision  of  the  Rose,  rational  theology  gives  place 
to  mystic  contemplation  ; 2  and  further  visions  of  the  divine 
ordering  precede  the  prayer  to  the  Virgin,  with  which  the 
last  canto  opens — that  prayer  so  beautiful  and  so  expressive 
of  mediaeval  thought  and  feeling  as  to  the  most  kind  and 
blessed  Lady  of  Heaven.  This  prayer  or  hymn  is  made 
of  phrases  which  the  mediaeval  mind  and  heart  had  been 
recasting  and  perfecting  for  centuries.  It  is  almost  a  great 
cento,  like  the  Dies  Irae.  After  the  Lady's  answering 
benediction,  there  comes  to  Dante,  in  grace,  the  final  mystic 
vision  of  the  Trinity,  enfolding  all  existence — substance, 
accidents  and  their  modes,  bound  with  love  in  one  volume. 
Supreme  dogmatic  truth  is  set  forth,  and  the  furthest 
strainings  of  reason  are  stilled  in  supersensual  and  super- 
rational  vision,  which  satisfies  all  intellectual  desire.  This 
vision,  vouchsafed  through  the  Virgin's  grace,  assures  the 
pilgrim  soul :  the  goal  is  reached  alike  of  knowledge  and 
salvation. 

One  may  say  that  the  Commedia  begins  and  ends  with 
the  Virgin.  It  was  she  who  sent  Beatrice  into  the  gates  of 
Hell  to  move  Virgil — meaning  human  reason  —  to  go  to 
Dante's  aid.  The  prayer  which  obtains  her  benediction, 
and  the  vision  following,  close  the  Paradiso.  So  the  teaching 
of  the  poem  ends  in  mediaeval  strains.  For  the  Virgin  was 
the  mediaeval  goddess,  beloved  and  universally  adored,  helpful 
in  every  way,  and  the  chief  aid  in  bringing  man  to  Heaven. 
But  no  more  with  Dante  than  with  other  mediaeval  men  is 
she  the  end  of  worship  and  devotion.  Her  eyes  are  turned 

1  Par.  xxiv.-xxvi. 

2  Typified  in  St.  Bernard,  Par.   xxxi.  and  following.     Suitable  r 

this  choice  may  be  suggested  by  the  extracts  from  Bernard's  De  deligtxdo 
and  Sermons  on  Canticles,  ante,  Chapter  XVII. 


552  THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

on  God.  So  are  those  of  Beatrice,  of  Rachel,  and  of  all 
the  saints  in  Paradise.  As  for  man  on  earth,  he  is  viator, 
journeying  on  through  discipline,  in  righteousness  and 
beneficence,  but  above  all  in  faith  and  hope  and  love  of 
God,  with  his  eyes  of  knowledge  and  desire  set  on  God. 
God  is  the  goal,  even  of  the  vita  activa,  which  is  also  training 
and  enlightenment.  Loving  his  brother  whom  he  hath  seen, 
man  may  learn  to  love  God  —  practising  himself  in  love. 
Even  Christ's  parable,  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  unto  one  of 
the  least  of  these,"  rightly  interpreted,  implies  that  the  end 
of  human  charity  is  God  :  the  human  charity  is  preparation, 
obedience,  means  of  enlightenment.  The  brother  for  whom 
Christ  died — that  is  he  whom  thou  shalt  love,  and  that  is 
why  thou  shalt  love  him.  In  themselves  human  relationships 
are  disciplinary,  ancillary,  as  all  the  sciences  are  ancillary  to 
Theology.  Mediaeval  religion  is  turned  utterly  toward  God  ; 
the  relationship  of  the  soul  to  God  is  its  whole  matter.  It 
is  not  humanitarian  :  not  human,  but  divina  scientia,  fides, 
et  amor,  make  mediaeval  Christianity.  Thus  Dante's  doctrine 
is  mediaeval.  Toward  God  moves  the  desire  of  the  viatores 
in  Purgatory,  though  they  still  are  incidentally  mindful  of 
earth's  memories.  In  Paradise  the  eyes  of  all  the  blessed 
are  set  on  Him.  Because  of  the  divine  love  they  may  for  a 
moment  turn  the  eyes  of  their  knowledge  and  desire  to  aid 
a  fellow-creature  ;  the  occasion  past,  they  fix  them  again  on 
God  :  thus  the  Virgin,  thus  Bernard,  thus  Beatrice. 

As  a  son  of  the  Middle  Ages,  Dante  was  possessed 
with  the  spirit  of  symbolism.  Allegory,  with  him,  was  not 
merely  a  way  of  expressing  that  which  might  transcend 
direct  statement :  it  embodied  a  principle  of  truth.  The 
universally  accepted  allegorical  interpretation  of  Scripture 
justified  the  view  that  a  deeper  verity  lay  in  allegorical 
significance  than  in  literal  meaning.  This  principle  applied 
to  other  writings  also.  "  Now  since  the  literal  sense  [of  the 
first  canzone]  is  sufficiently  explained,  it  is  time  to  proceed 
to  the  allegorical  and  true  interpretation."  1 

1  Conv.  ii.  13.  The  symbolism  inherent  in  all  human  mental  processes 
seems  indicated  by  the  argument  of  Aquinas  (ante,  p.  466)  that  the  mind 
knows  "the  particular  through  sense  and  imagination;  ...  it  must  turn  itself 
to  images  in  order  to  behold  the  universal  nature  existing  in  the  particular." 
This  is  a  necessity  of  our  half  material  nature. 


CHAP.  XLIII     THE  MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  553 

In  the  Vita  Nuova  and  somewhat  more  lifelessly  in  the 
Convito,  Dante  explains  that  it  is  his  way  to  invest  his 
poetry  with  a  secondary  or  allegorical  sense.  He  proposes 
in  the  latter  work  to  carry  out  the  formal  notion  of  the  four 
kinds  of  meaning  contained  in  profound  writings — literal, 
allegorical,  moral,  anagogical.1  He  never  holds  himself, 
however,  to  the  lines  of  any  such  obsession,  but  is  content 
in  practice  with  the  literal  and  the  broadly  allegorical  sense.* 
Even  then  the  great  Florentine  occasionally  can  be  jejune 
enough.  The  conception  of  the  ten  heavens  figuring  the 
Seven  Liberal  Arts  along  with  metaphysics,  ethics,  and 
theology,  as  a  plan  of  composition  for  the  Convito?  was  on 
a  level  with  the  structural  symbolism  of  the  De  nuptiis 
Philologiae  et  Mercurii  of  Capella.  Yet  the  likening  of 
Ethics  to  the  primum  mobile  and  Theology  to  the  Empyrean 
has  bearing  on  Dante's,  and  the  mediaeval,  scheme  of  the 
sciences,  among  which  Theology  is  chief. 

Allegory  moulds  the  structure  and  permeates  the  sub- 
stance of  the  Commedia.  For  this  Dante  himself  vouches 
in  the  famous  dedicatory  letter  to  Can  Grande,  where  his 
thoughts  may  be  heard  creaking  scholastically,  as  he  de- 
scribes the  nature  of  his  poem,  and  explains  why  he  entitled 
it  Comoedia  : 

"  Literally,  the  subject  is  the  state  of  souls  after  death  taken 
simply.  If,  however,  the  work  be  accepted  allegorically,  the  subject 
is  man,  according  as  by  merit  or  demerit  through  freedom  of  choice 
(arbitrii  libertatem)  he  is  subject  to  Justice,  rewarding  or  punitive." 

This  is  the  positive  statement  emanating,  in  all  prob- 
ability, from  the  poet.  Perhaps  it  is  as  well  that  he  did 
not  live  to  inaugurate  the  series  of  Commentaries  upon  his 
poem,  which  began  within  a  few  years  of  his  death  and 
show  no  signs  of  ceasing.4  So  it  has  been  left  to  others  to 

1  Convito  ii.  I.     Letter  to  Can  Grande,  par.  7. 

2  In  the  Can  Grande  letter,   having  stated    this  fourfold  significance,  Dante 
does  not   proceed  to  exemplify  it  in  the  interpretation  which   follows  of  the 
opening  lines  of  the  Paradise.      Possibly  those  lines  did  not  admit  of  the  fourfold 
interpretation  ;  yet,  in  general,  Dante  does  not  try  to  carry  it  out  in  practice,  any 
more  than  other  mediaeval  writers  commonly. 

3  Convito  ii.  ch.  14  and  15. 

4  Doubtless  the  commentator  habit  is  fixed  in  the  nature  of  man  ;  l> 
pre-eminently  mediaeval.      We  have  seen  enough  elsewhere  of  the  multiplication 


554  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  vn 

determine  the  metes  and  bounds  and  special  features  of 
the  Commedia's  allegorical  intent.  The  task  has  proved 
hazardous,  because  Dante  was  such  a  great  poet,  so  realistic 
in  his  visualizing  and  so  masterful  in  forcing  the  different 
phases  of  his  many-sided  thoughts  to  combine  in  concrete 
creations.  His  drama  is  so  living  that  one  can  hardly  think 
it  an  allegory. 

Evidently  certain  matters,  like  the  Mystic  Procession 
and  its  apocalyptic  appurtenances  in  the  last  cantos  of  the 
Purgatorio,  are  sheer  allegory.  Such,  while  suited  to  suggest 
theological  tenets,  are  formal  and  lifeless,  a  little  like  the 
hieratic  allegorical  mosaics  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries, 
which  were  composed  before  Christian  art  had  become 
imbued  with  Christian  feeling.1  Indeed,  doffing  for  an 
instant  one's  reverence  for  the  great  poet,  one  may  say 
that  from  the  point  of  view  of  art  and  life,  Dante's  symbolism 
becomes  jejune,  or  at  least  ceases  to  draw  us,  according  as 
it  becomes  palpable  allegory.2 

Beyond  such  incidents  one  recognizes  that  the  general 
course  of  the  poem,  its  more  pointed  occurrences,  together 
with  its  chief  characters  and  the  scenes  amid  which  they 
move,  have  commonly  both  literal  and  allegorical  meaning.3 
Usually  it  is  wise  not  to  press  either  side  too  rigorously. 
The  poet's  mind  worked  in  the  clearly  imagined  setting  and 
dramatic  action  of  his  poem,  where  fact  and  symbolism 
combined  in  that  reality  which  is  both  art  and  life.  Surely 
the  Commedia  was  completed  and  rendered  real  and  beauti- 
ful through  many  a  touch  and  incident  which  had  no 
allegorical  intent.  Even  as  in  a  French  cathedral,  the  main 
sculptured  and  painted  subjects  have  doctrinal,  that  is  to 


of  Commentaries  on  the  Sentences  of  the  Lombard  and  other  scholastic  works. 
Dante's  friend,  Gnido  Cavalcanti,  wrote  a  little  poem  beginning  Donna  mi 
priego,  upon  which  we  have  eight  Commentaries,  the  first  from  Egidio  Colonna 
in  1316. 

1  Yet,  however  obvious  the  meaning,  tying  the  pole  of  the  Chariot  to  the 
Tree  of  Life  was  a  great  stroke  (Purg.  xxxii.  49). 

2  There  is  a  piece  of  allegory  in  the  Paradiso  which  almost  gets  on  one's 
nerves,  i.e.  the  ceaseless  whirling  of  the  blessed  spirits,  usually  in  wheel  forma- 
tions:  e.g.  Par.  xii.  3  ;  xxi.  81  ;  xxiv.  10  sqq.  :  cf.  x.  145  ;  xiii.  20. 

3  One  notes  that  all  the  symbolizing  personages  of  the  poem — Virgil,  Statius, 
Matilda,  Lia,  Beatrice — have  literal  reality,  however  subtle  or  far-reaching  may 
be  the  allegorical  intendment  with  which  the  poet  has  invested  them. 


CHAP.  XLHI     THE  MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  555 

say,  allegorical,  significance,  besides  their  literal  truth ;  but 
there  is  also  much  lovely  carving  of  scroll  and  flowered 
ornament  and  beast  and  bird,  which  beautifies  the  building. 

For  Dante's  purpose,  to  set  out  the  state  of  disembodied 
spirits  after  death,  allegory  might  prove  prejudicial,  because 
of  the  intensity  of  his  artist's  vision.  Much  of  the  poem's 
symbolism,  especially  in  the  Paradise,  belongs  to  that  un- 
avoidable imagery  to  which  every  one  is  driven  when 
attempting  to  describe  spiritual  facts.  Such  symbolism, 
however,  when  constructed  with  the  plastic  power  of  a 
Dante,  may  become  itself  so  convincing  or  compelling  as  to 
reduce  the  intended  spiritual  signification  to  the  terms  of 
its  concrete  embodiment  in  the  symbol.  In  view  of  the 
carnality  of  most  sin,  one  is  not  surprised  to  find  the  place 
of  punishment  a  converging  cavity  within  the  earth.  With 
Dante,  as  with  Hildegard,  the  sights  and  torments  of  Hell 
are  realistically  given  quite  as  of  course.  Perhaps  Dante's 
Mount  of  Purgatory  begins  to  give  us  pause,  and  its  corniced 
mise  en  sc&ne  tends  to  enflesh  the  idea  of  spirit  and  materialize 
its  purgation.  But  the  limiting  effect  of  symbolism  is  most 
keenly  felt  in  the  Paradise,  notwithstanding  the  beauty  of 
that  cantica  ;  for  its  very  concrete  symbolism  seems  some- 
times to  ensphere  the  intended  truths  of  spirit  in  a  sort  of 
crystalline  translucency.  It  is  all  a  marvellously  imagined 
description  of  the  state  of  blessed  souls.  Yet  in  the  final 
pure  and  glorious  image  of  a  white  rose  (candida  rosd)  the 
company  of  the  glorified  spirits  is  so  visualized  as  to  become, 
surely  not  theatrical,  but  as  if  assembled  upon  the  rounding 
tiers  of  seats  occupied  by  an  audience.1  There  are  topics 
in  which  the  sheer  ratiocination  of  Thomas  is  more  com- 
pletely spiritual  than  the  poetic  vision  of  Dante. 

Dante's  most  admirable  symbolic  creation  was  also  his 
dearest  reality — Beatrice.  And  while  this  being  in  which 
he  has  immortalized  his  fame  and  hers,  is  eminently  the 
creation  of  his  genius,  the  elements  were  drawn  from  the 
many-chambered  mediaeval  past.  Some  issued  out  of  the 
vast  matter  of  chivalric  love,  with  its  high  heart  of  service 
and  sense  of  its  own  worth,  its  science,  its  foolish  and  most 
wise  reasoning,  its  preciosity  of  temper — Dante  and  his 

1  See  e.g.  Par.  xxxi.  67. 


556  THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND  BOOK  VH 

literary  friends  were  virtuosos  in  everything  pertaining  to 
its  understanding.1  This  love  was  of  the  fine-reasoning 
mind.  The  first  canzone  of  the  Vita  Nuova  does  not  begin 
"  Donne,  che  sentite  amore,"  but :  "  Donne,  ch'  avete  intelletto 
d'  amore."  Through  that  book  love  is  what  it  never  ceases 
to  be  with  Dante,  intelligenza : 

"  Intelligenza  nuova,  cbe  1'  Amore 
Piangendo  mette  in  lui.  .  .  ." 

The  piangendo,  the  tears,  have  likewise  part ;  without 
them  love  is  not  had  or  even  understood.  The  enormous 
sense  of  love's  supreme  worth — that  too  is  in  Dante.  It 
had  all  been  with  the  Troubadours  of  Provence,  with  Chretien 
de  Troies,  and  with  the  great  Minnesingers,  and  had  been 
reasoned  on,  appreciated,  felt  and  wept  over,  by  ladies  and 
knights  who  listened  to  their  poems.  From  France  and 
Provence  love  and  its  reasonings  had  come  to  Italy  even 
before  Dante's  eyes  had  opened  to  it  and  other  matters. 

This  was  one  strain  that  entered  the  Beatrice  of  the 
Vita  Nuova,  of  the  Convito,  of  the  Commedia.  But  Beatrice 
is  something  else :  she  is,  or  becomes,  Theology,  the  God- 
given  science  of  the  divine  and  human.  Long  had  Theologia 
(divina  scientid}  been  a  queen ;  and  even  before  her, 
Philosophia,  as  with  Boethius,  had  been  a  queenly  woman 
gowned  with  as  full  symbolical  particularity  as  ever  the 
Beatrice  of  Dante.  Indeed  from  the  time  of  the  Psycho- 
machia  of  Prudentius  to  the  Roman  de  la  Rose  of  De  Lorris 
and  De  Meun,  every  human  quality,  and  many  an  aspect 
of  human  circumstance,  had  been  personified,  for  the  most 
part  under  the  forms  of  gracious  or  seductive  women.  Above 
all  of  these  rose,  sweet,  gracious,  and  potent,  the  Virgin  Queen 
of  Heaven.  It  came  as  of  course  to  Dante  to  symbolize  his 
conception  of  divine  wisdom  in  a  woman's  form.  The 
achievement  of  his  genius  was  the  transfusing  combination 
of  elements  of  courtly  love,  didactic  allegory,  and  divina 
scientia,  in  a  creature  before  whom  the  whole  man  Dante, 
heart  and  reason  and  religious  faith,  could  stand  and  gaze 
and  love  and  worship. 

Beatrice  was  his  and  of  him  always  ;  but  with  the  visions 

1  Cf.  De  Sanctis,  Storia  della  lettcratura  italiana,  i.  p.  46  sqq* 


CHAP.XUII     THE  MEDIAEVAL  SYNTHESIS  557 

and  experience  of  that  mature  and  grace-illuminated  man- 
hood, which  expressed  itself  in  the  Commedia,  she  comes  to 
be  much  that  she  had  not  been  when  she  lived  on  earth  or 
had  just  left  it,  and  Dante  was  a  maker  of  exquisite  verses 
in  Florence ;  and  much  too  that  she  had  scarce  become 
while  the  poet  was  consoling  himself  with  philosophy  for  his 
bereavement  and  the  dulling  of  his  early  faith.  Beatrice 
lives  and  moves  and  has  her  ever  more  uplifted  being  as  the 
reality  as  well  as  symbol  of  Dante's  thoughts  of  life.  With 
all  first  love's  idealism,  he  loved  a  girl  ;  then  she,  having 
passed  from  earth,  becomes  the  inspiration  and  object  of 
address  of  the  young  maker  of  sonnets  and  canzoni,  who 
with  such  intellectual  preciosity  was  intent  on  building  these 
verses  of  fine-spun  sentiment.  Thereafter,  when  he  is  in 
darker  mood,  she  does  not  altogether  leave  him,  whatever 
variant  attitudes  his  thought  and  temper  take.  And  at  last 
the  yearning  self-fulfilments  of  his  renewed  life  draw  together 
in  the  Beatrice  of  the  Commedia. 

It  is  very  beautiful,  and  the  growth,  as  well  as  work,  of 
genius  ;  but  it  is  not  strange.  For  there  is  no  bound  to  the 
idealizing  of  the  love  which  first  transfuses  a  youth's  nature 
with  a  mortal  golden  flame,  and  awakens  it  to  new  under- 
standing. Out  of  whatever  of  experience  of  life  and  joy  and 
sorrow  may  come  to  the  man,  this  first  love  may  still  vivify 
itself  anew — often  in  dreams — and  become  again  living  and 
beautiful,  in  tears,  and  will  awaken  new  perceptions  and 
disclose  further  vistas  of  the  intettigenza  nuova  which  love 
never  ceases  to  impart  to  him  who  has  loved. 

Dante's  mind  was  always  turning  from  the  obvious 
sense-actuality  of  the  fact  to  its  symbolism  ;  which  held  the 
truer  reality.  With  such  a  man  it  is  not  strange  that  the 
beloved  and  adored  woman,  the  love  of  whom  was  virtue 
and  enlightenment,  should,  when  dead  to  earth,  become  that 
divine  wisdom  which  opens  Heaven  to  the  lover  who  would 
follow,  for  all  eternity,  whither  his  beloved  has  so  surely 
gone.  No,  it  was  not  strange,  but  only  as  wonderful  as  all 
the  works  of  God,  that  she  who  while  living  had  been  the 
spring  of  virtue  of  all  kinds  and  meanings  in  the  poet's 
breast,  should  after  death  become  the  emblem,  even  the 
reality,  of  that  whereby  man  is  taught  how  to  win  his 


INDEX 


NOTE.— Of  several  references  to  t/se  same  matter  the  more  important  an  shtnen 
by  heavy  type. 


Abaelard,  Peter,  career  of,  ii.  342-5  ;  at 
Paris,  ii.  343,  344,  383  ;  popularity 
there,  ii.  119  ;  love  for  Heloise,  ii. 
4'5»  344  I  love-songs,  ii.  13,  207  ; 
Heloi'se's  love  for,  L  585  ;  ii.  3,  5, 
8,  9,  15-16 ;  early  relations  with 
Heloi'se,  ii.  4-5 ;  suggestion  of 
marriage  opposed  by  her,  ii.  6-9  ; 
marriage,  ii.  9 ;  suffers  vengeance 
of  Fulbert,  ii.  9  ;  becomes  a  monk 
at  St.  Denis,  ii.  10  ;  at  the  Paraclete, 
ii.  10,  344  ;  at  Breton  monastery, 
ii.  10 ;  St.  Bernard's  denunciations 
of,  i.  229,  401  ;  ii.  344-5.  355  ; 
letters  to,  from  Heloise  quoted,  ii. 
11-15, 17-20,  23,  24  ;  letters  from,  to 
Heloi'se  quoted,  ii.  16-17, 21-3,  24-5 ; 
closing  years  at  Cluny,  ii.  25,  26, 

345  ;  death  of,  ii.  27,  345  ;  estimate 
of,  ii.  4,  342  ;  rationalizing  temper, 
i.  229  ;  ii.  298-9  ;  skill  in  dialectic, 
ii.  303,  345-6,  353  ;  not  an  Aristo- 
telian, ii.  369  ;  works  on  theology, 
ii.  352-5  ;  De  Unitate  et  Trinitate 
divina,  ii.  10,  298-9,  352  and  n.3  • 
Theologia,  ii.   303-4,  395  ;  Scito  te 
ipsum,  ii.  350-1  ;  Sic  et  non,  i.  17  ; 
ii.   304-6,  352,  357  ;  Dialectica,  ii. 

346  and    nn. ,  349-50 ;     Dialogue 
between     Philosopher,     Jew,     and 
Christian,    ii.    350,    351  ;    Historia 
calamitatum ,  ii.  4-11,   298-9,  343  ; 
Carmen  ad  Astralabium  filium,  ii. 
192  ;    hymns,   ii.    207-9  '•  otherwise 
mentioned,  ii.  134,  283  and  n. 

Abbo,  Abbot,  i.  294  and  n.,  324 
Abbots  : 

Armed  forces,  with,  i.  473 

Cistercian,  position  of,  i.  362-3  and  n. 

Investiture  of,  lay,  i.  244 

Social  class  of,  i.  473 
Accursius,  Glossa  ordinaria  of,  ii.   262, 
263 


VOL.  II 


561 


Adalberon,    Abp.    of    Rheims.    i.     340. 

282-3,  287 

Adam  of  Marsh,  ii.  389,  400,  487 
Adam  of  St.  Victor,  editions  of  hymns 

of,    ii.    87   w.1;    examples    of    the 

hymns,  ii.  87  seqq. ;  Latin  originals. 

ii.  206,  209-15 

Adamnan  cited,  i.  134  ».«,  137 
Adelard  of  Bath,  ii.  370 
Aedh,  i.  132 
Agobard,  Abp.  of  Lyons,  i.  215,  232-3 ; 

cited,  ii.  247 
Aidan,  St,  i.  174 

Aimoin,  Vita  Abbonis  by,  i.  994  and  n. 
Aix,  Synod  of,  i.  359 
Aix-la-Chapelle  : 
Chapel  at,  i.  212  ;/. 
School   at,    see   Carolingian    period — 

Palace  school 
Alans,  i.  113,  116,  119 
Alanus  de   Insulis,   career  of,  ii.  93-4  ; 

estimate  of,    ii.    375-6 ;    works  of. 

ii.     48    n.1.    94,     375     *•*.     37$ ; 

Anticlaudianus,    ii.    94-103,     193. 

377>   539  I   U*  plo-nctu  naturae,  ii. 

192-3  and  n.1,  376 
Alaric,  i.  112 
Alaric  II.,  i.  117;  ii.  243 
Alberic,  Card.,  L  252  «.a 
Alberic,  Markgrave  of  Camerino,  i.  242 
Alberic,  son  of  Marozia,  i.  342-3 
Albertus    Magnus,    career  of,    ii.    431  ; 

estimate    of,    ii.    298,    301,    421  : 

estimate  of  work  of,  ii.   393,  395  ; 

attitude  toward  Gilbert  de  la  Porree. 

ii.  372  ;  compared  with  Bacon,  ii. 

422  ;    with  Aquinas,   ii.    433.  438 ; 

relations    with    Aquinas,    ii.    434  : 

on  logic,    ii.   314-15 :   method  of. 

ii.    315   n. ;    edition   of  works,    ii. 

424  n.1;  De  praedicabilibus,  ii.  314 

and  *.-3i5.    4*4- S 1    wofk  on  the 

rest  of  Aristotle,  ii.  430-1 ;  analysis 

2  O 


INDEX 


NOTE.— Of  several  references  to  tfie  same  matter  the  more  important  art  skpten 
by  heavy  type. 


Abaelard,  Peter,  career  of,  ii.  342-5  ;  at 
Paris,  ii.  343,  344,  383  ;  popularity 
there,  ii.  119;  love  for  Heloise.  ii. 
4"5>  344  •  love-songs,  ii.  13,  207  ; 
Heloi'se's  love  for,  i.  585  ;  ii.  3,  5, 
8,  9,  15-16 ;  early  relations  with 
Heloi'se,  ii.  4-5 ;  suggestion  of 
marriage  opposed  by  her,  ii.  6-9 ; 
marriage,  ii.  9 ;  suffers  vengeance 
of  Fulbert,  ii.  9 ;  becomes  a  monk 
at  St.  Denis,  ii.  10  ;  at  the  Paraclete, 
ii.  10,  344  ;  at  Breton  monastery, 
ii.  10 ;  St.  Bernard's  denunciations 
of,  i.  229,  401  ;  ii.  344-5,  355  ; 
letters  to,  from  Heloise  quoted,  ii. 
11-15, 17-20,23,  24  ;  letters  from,  to 
Heloise  quoted,  ii.  16-17, 21-3,  24-5 ; 
closing  years  at  Cluny,  ii.  25,  26, 

345  ;  death  of,  ii.  27,  345  ;  estimate 
of,  ii.  4,  342 ;  rationalizing  temper, 
i.  229  ;  ii.  298-9  ;  skill  in  dialectic, 
"'•  3°3.  345-6,  353  :  not  an  Aristo- 
telian, ii.  369  ;  works  on  theology, 
"•  352'5  !  &e  Unitate  et  Trinitate 
divina,  ii.  10,  298-9,  352  and  n.3 ; 
Theologia,   ii.   303-4,  395  ;  Scito  te 
ipsum,  ii.  350-1  ;  Sic  et  non,  i.  17  ; 
ii.   304-6,  352,  357  ;  Dialectica,  ii. 

346  and    nn. ,  349-50 ;     Dialogue 
between     Philosopher,     Jew,     and 
Christian,    ii.    350,    351  ;    Historia 
calamitatum ,  ii.  4-11,   298-9,  343  ; 
Carmen  ad  Astralabium  filiiim,  ii. 
192  ;   hymns,   ii.    207-9 !   otherwise 
mentioned,  ii.  134,  283  and  n. 

Abbo,  Abbot,  i.  294  and  n.,  324 
Abbots  : 

Armed  forces,  with,  i.  473 
Cistercian,  position  of,  i.  362-3  and  n. 
Investiture  of,  lay,  i.  244 
Social  class  of,  i.  473 
Accursius,  Glossa  ordinaria  of,   ii.    262, 
263 
VOL.  II  561 


Adalberon,  Abp.  of  Rheims.  i.  340, 
282-3,  287 

Adam  of  Marsh,  ii.  389,  400,  487 

Adam  of  St.  Victor,  editions  of  hymns 
of,  ii.  87  «. ' ;  examples  of  the 
hymns,  ii.  87  seqq. ;  Latin  originals. 
ii.  206,  209-15 

Adamnan  cited,  i.  134  ».«,  137 

Adelard  of  Bath,  ii.  370 

Aedh,  i.  132 

Agobard,  Abp.  of  Lyons,  i.  215,  232-3; 
cited,  ii.  247 

Aidan,  St.,  i.  174 

Aimoin,  Vita  Abbonis  by.  i.  394  and  n. 

Aix,  Synod  of,  i.  359 

Aix-la-Chapelle : 
Chapel  at,  i.  212  n. 
School   at,   see  Carolingian   period- 
Palace  school 

Alans,  i.  113,  116,  119 

Alanus  de  Insulis,  career  of,  ii.  93-4  . 
estimate  of,  ii.  375-6 ;  works  of. 
ii.  48  n.1,  94,  375  *•*•  37*: 
Anticlaudianus,  ii.  94-103.  193. 
377,  539  ;  De  planet*  naturae,  ii. 
192-3  and  n.1.  376 

Alaric,  i.  112 

Alaric  II.,  i.  117;  ii.  243 

Alberic,  Card.,  L  252  *.' 

Alberic,  Markgrave  of  Camerino,  i.  343 

Alberic,  son  of  Marozia,  i.  343-3 

Albertus  Magnus,  career  of,  it  431 : 
estimate  of,  ii.  298,  301,  421 : 
estimate  of  work  of,  ii.  393.  395  ; 
attitude  toward  Gilbert  de  la  Porrt*. 
ii.  372 ;  compared  with  Bacon,  ii. 
422  ;  with  Aquinas,  ii.  433,  438 ; 
relations  with  Aquinas,  ii.  434  : 
on  logic,  ii.  314-15 ;  method  of. 
ii.  315  n.  \  edition  of  works,  ii. 
424  w.1;  Dt  pratditabilibui,  ii.  314 
and  *.-3i5.  4»4-5  •  w«*  °°  *** 
rest  of  Aristotle,  ii.  4*>-«  ;  analysis 

2  O 


562 


THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


of  this  work,  ii.  424  seqq. ;  attitude 
toward  the  original,  ii.  422  ;  Sum  ma 
theologiae,  ii.  430,  431  ;  Summa  de 
creaturis,  ii.  430-1  ;  De  adhaerendo 
Deo,  ii.  432  ;  otherwise  mentioned, 
i.  17 ;  ii.  82  «.2,  283,  312,  402, 
541  «.2 

Albigenses,  i.  49 ;  persecution  of,  i. 
366-7,  461,  481,  572  ;  ii.  168 

Alboin  the  Lombard,  i.  115 

Alchemy,  ii.  496-7 

Alcuin  of  York,  career  of,  i.  214  ;  works 
of,  i.  216-21  and  «.2;  extracts  from 
letters  of,  ii.  159  ;  stylelessness  of, 
ii.  159,  174  ;  verses  by,  quoted,  ii. 
136-7;  on  urbanitas,  ii.  136;  other- 
wise mentioned,  i.  212,  240,  343; 
ii.  ii2,  312,  332 

Aldhelm,  i.  185 

Alemanni,  i.  9,  121, 122, 145  «.2, 174, 192 

Alemannia,  Boniface's  work  in,  i.  199 

Alexander  the  Great,  Pseudo-Callis- 
thenes'  Life  of,  ii.  224,  225,  229- 
230  ;  Walter  of  Lille's  work  on,  ii. 
230  n.1 

Alexander  II.,  Pope,  i.  262  n.,  263 
and  n.1 

Alexander  de  Villa- Dei,  Doctrinale  of, 
ii.  125-7,  163 

Alexander  of  Hales — at  Paris,  i.  476  ;  ii. 
399 ;  Bacon's  attack  on,  ii.  494, 
497  ;  estimate  of  work  of,  ii.  393, 
395,  399 ;  Augustinianism  of,  ii. 

403-4 
Alfred,  King  of  England,  i.  144  and  n.z, 

187-90 
Allegory  (See  also  Symbolism) : 

Dictionaries  of,  ii.  47-8  and  n. *,  49 
Greek  examples  of,  ii.  42,  364 
Metaphor  distinguished  from,  ii.  41  «. 
Politics,  in,  ii.  60-1,  275-6,  280 
Roman  de  la  rose  as  exemplifying,  ii. 

103 

Scripture,  see  under  Scriptures 
Two  uses  of,  ii.  365 
Almsgiving,  i.  268 
Alphanus,  i.  253-4 
Amadas,  i.  565 

Ambrose,     St.,     Abp.     of    Milan,     on 
miracles,   i.   85-6 ;    attitude  toward 
secular    studies,    i.    300 ;    ii.    288 ; 
Hexaemeron  of,  i.  72-4  ;  De  officiis, 
i.   96  ;   hymns,   i.   347-8  ;  otherwise 
mentioned,  i.  70,  75,  76,  104,   186, 
354  ;  ii.  45  n. ,  272 
Anacletus  II.,  Pope,  i.  394 
Anchorites,  see  Hermits 
Andrew  the  Chaplain,  Flos  amoris  of,  i. 

575-6 
Angels : 

Aquinas'  discussion  of,  ii.  324-5,  435, 
457  seqq.,  469,  473-5 


Angels  (cont. ) : 

Dante's  views  on,  ii.  551 
Emotionalizing    of    conception  of,   i. 

348  «.4 

Hugo  of  St.  Victor  on,  ii.  68,  69 
Symbols,  regarded  as,  ii.  457 
Vincent's  Speculum  as  concerning,  ii. 

319 
Writings   regarding,    summary  of,   ii. 

457 

Angilbert,  i.  234-5 

Angles,  i.  140 

Anglo-Saxons  : 

Britain  conquered  by,  i.  141 
Characteristics  of,  i.  142,  196 
Christian  missions  by,  i.  196,  197 
Christian    missions   to,    i.    172,    174, 

1 80  seqq. 
Customs  of,  i.  141 
Poetry  of,  i.  142-4 
Roman  influence  slight  on,  i.  32 

Aniane  monastery,  i.  358-9 

Annals,  i.  234  and  n.1 

Anselm  (at  Laon),  ii.  343-4 

Anselm,  St.,  Abp.  of  Canterbury,  dream 
of,  L  269-70 ;  early  career,  i.  270  ; 
at  Bee,  L  271-2 ;  relations  with 
Rufus,  i.  273,  275 ;  journey  to 
Italy,  i.  275  ;  estimate  of,  i.  274, 
276-7  ;  ii.  303,  330,  338  ;  style  of, 
i.  276  ;  ii.  166-7  •  influence  of,  on 
Duns  Scotus,  ii.  511  ;  works  of,  i. 
275  seqq.;  Cur  Deus  homo,  i.  275, 
277  n.1,  279  ;  ii.  395  ;  Monologion, 
'•  275-7  I  Proslogion,  i.  276-8  ;  ii. 
166,  395 ;  Meditationes,  i.  276, 
279:  De  grammatico,  i.  277  n.z; 
otherwise  mentioned,  i.  16,  19, 
301-2  ;  ii.  139,  283,  297,  340 

Anselm  of  Besate,  i.  259 

Anthony,  St. ,  i.  365-6 ;  Life  of,  by 
Athanasius,  i.  47,  52  and  n. 

Antique  literature,  see  Greek  thought  and 
Latin  classics 

Antique  stories,  themes  of,  in  vernacular 
poetry,  ii.  223  seqq. 

Apollinaris  Sidonius,  ii.  107 

Apollonius  of  Tyana,  i.  44 

Apollonius  of  Tyre,  ii.  224  and  n. 

Aquinas,  Thomas,  family  of,  ii.  433-4  ; 
career,  ii.  434-5 ;  relations  with 
Albertus  Magnus,  ii.  434 ;  transla- 
tions of  Aristotle  obtained  by,  ii. 
391  ;  Vita  of,  by  Guilielmus  de 
Thoco,  ii.  435  «. ;  works  of,  ii.  435  ; 
estimate  of,  and  of  his  work,  i.  17, 
18  ;  ii.  301,  436-8,  484  ;  complete- 
ness of  his  philosophy,  ii.  393-5  > 
pivot  of  his  attitude,  ii.  440 ;  pre- 
sent position  of,  ii.  501 ;  style,  ii. 
1 80  ;  mastery  of  dialectic,  ii.  352  ; 
compared  with  Eriugena,  i.  23  in.1; 


INDEX 


563 


with  Albertus  Magnus,  ii.  433,  438  ; 
with  Bonaventura,  ii.  437 ;  with 
Duns.  ii.  517;  Dante  compared 
with  and  influenced  by,  ii.  541  «.2, 
547'  549-  55*.  555:  on  monarchy, 
ii.  277  ;  on  faith,  ii.  288  ;  on  differ- 
ence between  philosophy  and  theo- 
logy, ii.  290  ;  on  logic,  ii.  313  ; 
Summa  theologiae,  \.  17,  18  ;  ii. 
290  seqq. ;  style  of  the  work,  ii. 
180-1  ;  Bacon's  charge  against  it, 
ii.  300  ;  Peter  Lombard's  work  con- 
trasted with  it,  ii.  307-10  ;  its 
method,  ii.  307  ;  its  classification 
scheme,  ii.  324-9  ;  analysis  of  the 
work,  ii.  438  seqq,  447  seqq. ;  Summa 
philosophica  contra  Gentiles,  ii.  290, 
438,  445-6  ;  otherwise  mentioned,  i. 
69  n.*  ;  ii.  283,  298,  300,  312,  402 

Aquitaine,  i.  29,  240,  573 

Arabian  philosophy,  ii.  389-90,  400-1 

Arabs,  Spanish  conquest  by,  i.  9,  118 

Archimedes,  i.  40 

Architecture,  Gothic  : 

Evolution  of,  i.  305  ;  ii.  539 
Great  period  of,  i.  346 

Argenteuil  convent,  ii.  9,  10 

Arianism : 

Teutonic  acceptance  of,  i.  I2O,   192, 

194 
Visigothic  abandonment  of,  i.  118  n». 

Aristotle,  estimate  of,  i.  37-8  ;  works  of, 
i.  37-8  ;  unliterary  character  of  writ- 
ings of,  ii.  118,  119  ;  philosophy  as 
classified  by,  ii.  312  ;  attitude  of,  to 
discussions  of  final  cause,  ii.  336  ; 
the  Organon,  i.  37,  71  ;  progressive 
character  of  its  treatises,  ii.  333-4  ; 
Boethius'  translation  of  the  work, 
i.  71,  91-2;  advanced  treatises 
"lost"  till  i2th  cent.,  ii.  248  «., 
334 ;  Porphyry's  Introduction  to 
the  Categories,  i.  45,  92,  102  ;  ii. 
312,  314  n.,  333,  339;  Arabian 
translations  of  works,  ii.  389-90 ; 
introduction  of  complete  works,  i. 
17;  Latin  translations  made  in  i3th 
cent.,  ii.  391  ;  three  stages  in  schol- 
astic appropriation  of  the  Natural 
Philosophy  and  Metaphysics,  ii.  393  ; 
Paris  University  study  of,  ii.  391-2 
and  n. ;  Albertus  Magnus'  work  on, 
ii.  420-1,  424  seqq. ;  Aquinas'  mas- 
tery of,  i.  17,  18  ;  Dominican  ac- 
ceptance of  system  of,  ii.  404 ; 
Dante's  reverence  for,  ii.  543 

Arithmetic  : 

Abacus,  the,  i.  299 
Boethius'  work  on,  i.  72,  90 
Music  in  relation  to,  ii.  291 
Patristic  treatment  of,  i.  72 
Scholastic  classification  of,  ii.  313 


Arnold  of  Brescia,  i.  401 ;  ii.  171 
Arnulf,  Abp.  of  Rheims.  i.  283-4 
Art,  Christian  (For  particular  arts,  ttt 

their  names}  : 

Demons  as  depicted  in,  ii.  540  ».* 
Early,  i.  345  ». 
Emotionalizing  of,  i.  345-7 
Evolution  of,  i.  19-30 
Germany,  in  (nth  cent),  i.  313 
Symbolism  the  inspiration  of,  i.  ai ; 

ii.  82-6 

Arthur,  King,  story  of  youth  of,  i.  568- 
569  ;   relations  with   Lancelot  and 
Guinevere,  i.  584  ;  with  Parzival,  L 
592,  599-600,  612 
Arthurian  romances : 

Comparison  of,  v,-\\h  Chansons  de  geste, 

>•  S64-S 

German  culture  influenced  by,  ii.  38 
Origin  and  authorship  of,  question  as 

to,  i.  565-7 

Universal  vogue  of,  i.  565,  573.  577 
otherwise  mentioned,  i.  531,  538 
Arts,  the  (See  also  Latin  classics)  : 
Classifications  of,  ii.  312  seqq.    • 
Course  of,  shortening  of,  ii.  132,  384 
Die/amen,  ii.  121.  I2Q,  381 
Grammar,  see  that  heading 
Masters  in,  at  Paris  and  Oxford,   ii. 

384-5  ;  course  for,  ii.  388 
Seven  Liberal,  see  that  heading 
Asceticism  : 
Christian  : 

Carthusian,  L  384 

Early  growth  of.  i.  333-5 

Manichean,  i.  49 

Women's  practice  of.  i.  444.  462-3 
Neo-Platonic,  i.  43,  44,  46,  50,  331, 

334 
Astralabius,    ii.    6,    9,    27 ;    Abaelard's 

poem  to,  ii.  191-2  and  n.1 
Astrology,  i.  44  and  n. ;  ii.  374  :  Bacon's 

views  on,  ii.  499-500 
Astronomy  : 

Chartres  study  of,  i.  209 
Gerbert's  teaching  of,  i.  288-9 
Patristic  attitude  toward,  i.  72 
Ataulf,  i.  ii2,  116 

Athanasius,  St..  estimate  of  work  of.  i. 
54,  68  ;  Life  of  St.  Anthony  by, 
i.  47,  52  and  n. ,  84  ;  Orationts. 
i.  68 

Atlantis,  i.  36 
Attila  the  Hun,  i.   112-13;   in  legend. 

>•  145-7 
Augustine,  Abp.   of  Canterbury,    i.    6. 

171,    180-2;    Gregory's  letters   to, 

cited,  i.  102 
Augustine,  St. .  Bp.  of  Hippo,  Platonism 

of,  i.  55  ;  personal  affinity  of.  with 

Plotinus,  i.  55-7 ;  bartaarization  of. 

by  Gregory  the  Great,  i.  98,  103  ; 


564 


THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


compared  with  Gregory  the  Great, 
i.  98-9  ;  with  Anselm,  i.  279  ;  with 
Guigo,  i.  385,  390 ;  overwhelming 
influence  of,  in  Middle  Ages,  ii. 
403 ;  on  numbers,  i.  72  and  n.z, 
105 ;  attitude  toward  physical 
science,  i.  300  ;  on  love  of  God,  i. 
342,  344  ;  allegorizing  of  Scripture 
by,  ii.  44-5  ;  modification  by,  of 
classical  Latin,  ii.  152  ;  Confessions, 
i.  63 ;  ii.  531  ;  De  Trinitate,  i. 

64,  68,  74,  96  ;  Civitas  Dei,  i.  64- 

65,  69   «.2,     81-82 ;    De    moribus 
Ecclesiae,  i.  65,  67-8  ;  De  doctrina 
Christiana,    i.    66-7 ;    classification 
scheme  based  on  the  Doctrina,  ii. 
322  ;  De  spiritu  et  littera,    i.    69  ; 
De  cura  pro  mortuis,    i.    86 ;    De 
genesi  ad  litteram,  ii.  324 ;  Alcuin's 
compends    of    works    of,    i.    220 ; 
otherwise  mentioned,   i.   5,   53,  71, 
75,  82,  87,  89,  104,  186,  225,  340, 
354.  366,  370  ;  ii.    107,  269,   297, 
312 

Augustus,  Emp. ,  i.  26,  29 

Aurillac  monastery,  i.  281 

Ausonius,  i.  126  «.2  ;  ii.  107 

Austrasia : 

Church  organization  in,  i.  199 
Feudal  disintegration  of,  i.  240 
Irish  monasteries  founded  in,  i.  174 
Rise  of,  under  Pippin,  i.  209 

Authority  v.  reason,  see  Reason 

Auxerre,  i.  506-7 

Averroes,  ii.  390 

Averroism,  ii.  400-1 

Averroists,  ii.  284  n..  296  n.1 

Avicenna,  ii.  390 

Avitus,  Bp.  of  Vienne,  i.  126  ».2 

Azo,  ii.  262-3 

Bacon,  Roger,  career  of,  ii.  486-7  ; 
tragedy  of  career,  ii.  486  ;  relations 
with  Franciscan  Order,  ii.  299,  486, 
488,  490-1  ;  encouragement  to, 
from  Clement  IV.,  ii.  489-90  and 
a.1;  estimate  of,  ii.  484-6  ;  estimate 
of  work  of,  ii.  402  ;  style  of,  ii. 
179-80;  attitude  toward  the 
classics,  ii.  120 ;  predilection  for 
physical  science,  ii.  289,  486-7 ; 
Albertus  Magnus  compared  with, 
ii.  422  ;  on  four  causes  of  ignorance, 
ii.  494-5  ;  on  seven  errors  in 
theological  study,  ii.  495-8 ;  on 
experimental  science,  ii.  502-8 ; 
on  logic,  ii.  505  ;  on  faith,  ii.  507  ; 
editions  of  works  of,  ii.  484  n.  ; 
Greek  Grammar  by,  ii.  128  andn.s, 
484  n. ,  487,  498  ;  Multiplicatio 
specierum,  ii.  484  «. ,  500  ;  Opus 
tertium,  ii.  488,  490  and  nn.,  491, 


492,    498,    499 ;    Opus    majus,    ii. 

490-1,  492.  494-5,  498,  499-500' 
506-8 ;  Optics,  ii.  500 ;  Opus 
minus,  ii.  490-1,  495-8 ;  Vatican 
fragment,  ii.  490  and  n.*,  505  n.1 ; 
Compendium  studii  philosophiae,  ii. 
491,  493-4,  507-8 ;  Compendium 
theologiae,  ii.  491  ;  otherwise  men- 
tioned, ii.  284  «.,  335  «.,  389, 
53i-2 

Bartolomaeus,  De  proprietatibus  rerum 
of,  ii.  316  «.2 

Bartolus,  ii.  264 

Baudri,  Abbot  of  Bourgueil,  ii.  192  n.1 

Bavaria  : 

Irish  monasteries  founded  in,  i.  174 
Merovingian  rule  in,  i.  121 
Otto's  relations  with,  i.  241 
Reorganization  of  Church  in,  198-9 

Bavarians,  i.  145  w.2,  209,  210 

Beauty,  love  of,  i.  340 

Bee  monastery,  i.  262  n.,  270-2 

Bede,  estimate  of,  i.  185-6  ;  allegorizing 
of  Scripture  by,  ii.  47  n.1;  Church 
History  of  the  English  People,  i. 
172,  186,  234«.2  ;  De  artemetrica, 
i.  187,  298  ;  Liber  de  temporibus, 
300 ;  otherwise  mentioned,  i.  184, 

212 

Beghards  of  Lie"ge,  i.  365] 
Belgae,  i.  126 
Belgica,  i.  29,  32 
Benedict,  Prior,  i.  258 
Benedict,  St.,  of  Xursia,  i.  85  and  n.2, 
94,   100  «.4  ;  Regula  of,   see  under 
Monasticism 

Benedictus,  Chronicon  of,  ii.  160-1 
Benedictus  Levita,  Deacon,  ii.  270 
Benoit  de  St.  More,  Roman  de  Troie 

by,  ii.  225,  227-9 
Beowulf,  i.  141,  143-4  and  n.1 
Berengar,  King,  i.  256 
Berengar  of  Tours,  i.  297,  299,  302-3  ; 

ii.  137 

Bernard,  Bro. ,  of  Quintavalle,  i.  502 
Bernard,  disciple  of  St.  Francis,  i.  425-6 
Bernard  of  Chartres,  ii.  130-2,  370 
Bernard,  St.,  Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  at 
Citeaux,  i.  360,  393 ;  inspires  Temp- 
lars' regula,  i.  531  ;  denounces  and 
crushes  Abaelard,  i.  229,  401  ;  ii. 
344-5,  355 ;  denounces  Arnold  of 
Brescia,  i.  401  ;  ii.  171  ;  relations 
with  Gilbert  de  la  Porr^e,  ii.  372 ; 
Lives  of,  i.  392  n. ,  393  n.1 ;  appear- 
ance and  characteristics  of,  i.  392-3 ; 
estimate  of,  i.  394  ;  ii.  367-8  ;  love 
and  tenderness  of,  i.  344,  345,  394 
seqq. ;  ii.  365  ;  severity  of,  i.  400-1 ; 
his  love  of  Clairvaux,  i.  401-2  ;  of 
his  brother,  i.  402-4  ;  Latin  style  of, 
ii.  169-71  ;  on  church  corruption, 


INDEX 


565 


i.  474 ;  on  faith,  ii.  298  ;  uncon- 
cerned with  physics,  ii.  356 ;  St. 
Francis  compared  with,  i.  415-16  ; 
extracts  from  letters  of,  i.  395  seqq. ; 
ii.  170-1  ;  Sermons  on  Canticles — 
cited,  337  n.  ;  quoted,  i.  409-13  ; 
ii.  169,  368-9  ;  De  consideratione, 
ii.  368  ;  otherwise  mentioned,  i.  17, 
20,  279,  302,  472,  501  ;  ii.  34,  168 

Bernard  Morlanensis,  De  contemptu 
mundi  by,  ii.  199  n.3 

Bernard  Silvestris,  Commentum  ...  of,  ii. 
116-17  and  n*  i  De  mundi  univer- 
sitate,  ii.  119,  371  and  n. 

Bernardone,  Peter,  i.  419,  423-4 

Bernward,  Bp.  of  Hildesheim,  i.  312 
and  n.1 

Bible,  see  Scriptures 

Biscop,  Benedict,  i.  184 

Bishops : 

Armed  forces,  with,  i.  473 
Francis  of  Assisi's  attitude  toward,  i. 

430 

Gallo- Roman  and  Frankish,  position 
of,    i.    191-2,    194    and   nn.,    198, 

201  n. 

Investiture  of,  lay,  i.  244-5  an^  n-*  '• 

ii.  140 

Jurisdiction  and  privileges  of,  ii.  266 
Papacy's  ascendancy  over,  i.  304 
Reluctance  to  be  consecrated,  i.  472 
Social  class  of,  i.  473 
Vestments  of,  symbolism  of,  ii.  77  «.2 
Blancandrin,  i.  565 
Bobbio  monastery,  i.  178,  282-3 
Boethius,  death  of,  i.  89,  93  ;  estimate 
of,  i.  89,  92,  IO2  ;  Albertus  Magnus 
compared  with,  ii.   420 ;  works  of, 
i.   90-3  ;  Gerbert's  familiarity  with 
works  of,  i.  289  ;  works  of,  studied 
at  Chartres,  i.  298-9  ;  their  import- 
ance,   i.    298 ;    De   arithmetica,    i. 
72,  90  ;  De  geometria,  i.  90  ;  com- 
mentary on  Porphyry's  Isagoge,   i. 
92 ;    ii.    312  ;    translation    of    the 
Organon,  i.    71,   91-2;    "loss"   of 
advanced   works,  ii.  248   n. ,   334 ; 
De  consolatione  philosophiae,  i.  89, 
1 88,  189-90,  299;  mediaeval  study 
of  the  work,  i.  89  ;  ii.  135-6 
Bologna  : 

Clubs  and  guilds  in,  ii.  382 
Fight  of,  against  Parma,  i.  497 
Law  school  at,  ii.  121,  251,  259-62, 

378 

Medical  school  at,  ii.  121,  383  «. 

University,  Law,  inception  and  charac- 
ter of,  ii.  i2i,  381-3;  affiliated 
universities,  ii.  383  n. 
Bonaventura,  St.  (John  of  Fidanza), 
career  of,  ii.  403  ;  at  Paris,  ii.  399, 
403  ;  estimate  of,  ii.  301 ;  style  of, 


ii.  181-2  ;  contrasted  with  Albertus. 
ii.  405  ;  compared  with  Aquinas,  ii. 
4°S-  437  ;  with  Dante,  ii.  547 ;  on 
faith,  ii.  298  ;  on  Minorites  and 
Preachers,  ii.  396  ;  attitude  toward 
Plato  and  Aristotle,  ii.  404-5  ;  to- 
ward Scriptures,  ii.  405  seqq.  ;  Dt 
reductione  artivm  ad  theologiam,  ii. 
406-8  ;  Breviloqvivm.  ii.  408-13  ; 
Itinerarium  mentis  in  Deitm,  ii. 
413-18;  otherwise  mentioned,  ii. 
283,  288 

Boniface,  see  Winifried-Boniface 
Boniface  VIII.,  Pope,  Sextusof.  ii.  373  ; 

Unam  sanctam  bull  of,  ii.  509 
Books  of  Sentences,  method  of,   ii.   307 

(See  also  under  Lombard) 
Botany,  ii.  427-8 
Bretons,  i.  113 

Breviarium,  i.  117,  239,  243-4 
Britain : 

Anglo-Saxon  conquest  of,  i.  141 
Antique  culture  in  relation  to,  before 

Middle  Ages,  i.  10-11 
Celts  in,  i.  127  «. 
Christianity  of,  i.  171-2 
Romanization  of,  i.  32 
Brude  (Bridius),  King  of  Picts,  i.  173 
Brunhilde,  i.  176,  178 
Bruno,  Abp.  of  Cologne,  i.  309-10,  383-4 ; 
Ruotger's  Life  of,  i.  310  ;  ii.  162  and 
n.1 
Burgundians : 

Christianizing  of,  i.  193 
Church's  attitude  toward,  i.  120 
Roman    law    code    promulgated    by 

(Papianus),  ii.  239,  242 
Roman  subjects  of,  i.  121 
otherwise    mentioned,    i.    9-10,    113, 

145 

Burgundy,  i.  175,  243  n.1 
Byzantine  architecture,  212  n. 
Byzantine  Empire,  see  Eastern  Empire 

Csedmon,  i.  183,  343 
Caesar,  C.  Julius,  cited,  i.  27-9,  138,  296 
Caesar  of  Heisterbach,  Life  of  Engelbert 
by,  i.  482-6  andn.  ;  Diabgi  miraett- 
lorum,  cited,  i.  488  «..  491. 
Canon  law  : 

Authority  of,  ii.  274 

Basis  of,  ii.  267-9 

Bulk  of,  ii.  269 

Conciliar  decrees,  collections  of,  ii.  269 

Decretals  : 

Collections  of,  ii.  269.  271-2.  975  n 
False,  ii.  270,  273 
Gratian's  Dtcrttvm,  ii.  268-9,  270-1, 

306 

Jus  naturate  in,  ii.  268-9 
Lex  romana  canonict  comfta,  ii.  252 
Scope  of,  ii.  267 


566 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


Canon  law  (cont.) : 
Sources  of,  ii.  269 
Supremacy  of,  ii.  277 

Canossa,  i.  244 

Cantafables,  i.  157  n.1 

Canticles,  i.  350 ;  Origen's  interpretation 
of.  >•  333  :  St.  Bernard's  Sermons 
on,  i.  337  «.,  409-13  ;  ii.  169,  368-9 

Capella,  Martianus,  De  nuptiis  Philo- 
logiaeet  Mercurii  of,  i.  71  and  n.3  ; 

ii.  553- 
Caritas,  ii.  476-8  ;  in  relation  to  faith, 

ii.  479-81  ;  to  wisdom,  ii.  481 
Carloman,  King  of  Austrasia,  i.  199-200 

and  n. ,  209 

Carloman  (son  of  Pippin),  i.  209-10. 
Carnuti,  i.  296 
Carolingian  period  : 

Breviarium  epitomes  current  during, 

ii.  244,  249 
Continuity   of,    with   Merovingian,   i. 

210-12 

Criticism   of  records  non-existent   in, 

i-  234 

Definiteness  of  statement  a  character- 
istic of,  i.  225,  227 
Educational   revival  in,  218-19,  222, 
236 ;   ii.   122,  158 ;    palace  school, 
i.  214,  218,  229,  235 
First  stage  of  mediaeval  learning  repre- 
sented by,  ii.  330,  332 
History  as  compiled  in,  i.  234-5 
King's  law  in,  ii.  247 
Latin  poetry  of,  ii.  188,  194,  197 
Latin  prose  of,  ii.  158 
Originality  in,  circumstances  evoking, 

i.  232-3 
Restatement  of  antique   and   patristic 

matter  in,  i.  237.  342-3 
Carthaginians,  i.  25 
Carthusian  Order,  origin  of,  i.  383-4 
Cass\a.n's  Institutes  znAConlocations,  i-335 
Cassiodorus,  life  and  works  of,   i.   93-7  ; 
Chronicon,  i.  94 ;    Variae  epistolae, 
\.    94 ;   De   anima,    94-5 ;    Institu- 
tiones    divinarum    et    saecularium 
litterarum,    i.    95-6 ;    ii.    357    «-2 ; 
otherwise    mentioned,    i.    6,    88-9, 
115  ;  ii.  312 

Cathari,  i.  49  ;  ii.  283  ». 
Catullus,  i.  25 
Cavallini,  i.  347 
Celsus  cited,  ii.  235,  237 
Celtic  language,  date  of  disuse  of,  L  31 

and  n. 
Celts: 

Gaul,  in,  i.  125  and  n.,  126-7,  I39  "-1 
Goidelic  and  Brythonic,  i.  127  n. 
Ireland,  in,  see  Irish 
Italy  invaded  by  (yd  cent.  B.C.),  i.  24 
Latinized,  i.  124 
Teutons  compared  with,  i.  125 


Champagne,  i.  240,  573 

Chandos,  Sir  John,  i.  554-5 

Chanson  de  Roland,  i.  12  n.,  528  and 
n.*,  559-62 

Chansons  de  geste,  i.  558  seqq.  ;  ii.  222 

Charlemagne,  age  of,  see  Carolingian 
period  ;  estimate  of,  i.  213  ;  rela- 
tions of,  with  the  Church,  i.  2OI, 
239  ;  ii.  273  ;  relations  with  Angil- 
bert,  i.  234-5  ;  educational  revival 
by,  i.  213-14;  ii.  no,  122,  158. 
332  ;  book  of  Germanic  poems  com- 
piled by  order  of,  ii.  220  ;  Capitu- 
laries of,  ii.  no,  248;  open  letters 
of,  i.  213  n.  ;  Einhard's  Life  of,  ii. 
158-9  ;  poetic  fame  of,  i.  210  ;  false 
Capitularies  ascribed  to,  ii.  270 ; 
empire  of,  non-enduring,  i.  238 ; 
otherwise  mentioned,  i.  9,  115,  153, 
562  ;  ii.  8 

Charles  Martel,  i.  197,  198,  209  ;  ii.  273 

Charles  II.  (the  Bald),  King  of  France, 
i.  228,  235 

Charles  III.  (the  Simple),  King  of  France, 
i.  239-40 

Charles  IV. ,  King  of  France,  i.  551 

Chartres  Cathedral,  sculpture  of,  i.  20. 
297  ;  ii.  82-5 

Chartres  Schools : 

Classics  the  study  of,  i.  298  ;  ii.  119 
Fulbert's  work  at,  i.  296-7,  299 
Grammar  as  studied  at,  ii.  129-30 
Medicine  studied  at,  ii.  372 
Orleans  the  rival  of,  ii.  119  ».* 
Trivium  and  quadrivium  at,  i.  298-9  ; 

it.  163 
mentioned,  i.  287,  293 

Chartreuse,  La  Grande,  founding  of, 
i.  384  (See  also  Carthusian) 

Chaucer,  ii.  95 

Childeric,  King,  i.  119,  122 

Chivalry : 

Literature  of : 

Arthurian       romances,      see      that 

heading 

Aube  (alba)  poetry,  i.  571;  ii.  30 
Chansons  de  geste,  i.  558  seqq. 
Nature  of,  i.  20 
Pastorelle,  i.  571 
Pietistic  ideal  recognized  in,  ii.  288, 

533 
Poems    of    various    nations    cited, 

i.  570  n. 
Religious  phraseology  in  love  poems, 

i.  350  «•* 

Romans  oTaventure,  i.  564-5,  571  «. 
Three  branches  of,  i.  558 
Nature  of,  i.  522,  570  n. 
Order  of,  evolution  of,  i.   524   seqq. 

(See  also  Knighthood) 
Chretien    de    Troies,    romances    by,    i 
566-7  ;  Tristan,  i.  567  ;  Perceval,  i- 


INDEX 


567 


567,  588-9  ;  Erec  (Geraint),  i.  567, 

586  ;  ii.  29  «.  ;  Lancelot  or  Le  Conte 

de    la    charrette,    i.    567,    569-70 ; 

582-5;    Cliges,   i.    567,   586  n.2; 

Ivain,  i.  571  n.5,  586  n.3  ;  ii.  29 n.  ; 

translation  of  Ovid's  Ars  amatoria, 

'•  574 
Christianity  : 

Appropriation  of,  by  mediaeval  peoples, 

stages  in,  i.  17-18 
Aquinas'    Summa   as   concerning,   ii. 

324 

Art,  in,  see  Art 
Atonement   doctrine,   Anselm's   views 

on,  i.  279 
Basis  of,  ii.  268 
Britain,  in,  i.  171-2 
Buddhism  contrasted  with,  i.  390 
Catholic  Church,  see  Church 
Completeness  of  scheme  of,  ii.  394-5 
Dualistic  element  in,  i.  59 
Eleventh  century,  position  in,  i.  16 
Emotional  elements  in  : 

Fear,  i.  103,  339,  342,  383 

Hate,  i.  332,  339 

Love,  i.  331,  345 

Synthetic  treatment  of,  i.  333 
Emotionalizing  of,  angels  as  regarded 

in,  i.  348  «.* 
Eternal  punishment  doctrine  of,  i.  65, 

339-  486 

Faith  of,  see  Faith 
Feudalism  in  relation  to,  i.  524,  527-9 

and  n.2,  530 

Fifth  century,  position  in,  L  15 
Gallo-Roman,  i.  191-2 
German  language  affected  by,  i.  202 
Greek  Fathers'  contribution  to,  i.  5 
Greek   philosophic    admixture   in,    i. 

33-4 

Hell-fear  in,  i.  103,  339,  342,  383 
Hymns,  see  that  heading 
Ideal  v.  actual,  i.  354-5 
Incarnation  doctrine  of,  ii.  369 
Irish  missionaries  of,  see  under  Irish 
Latin  as  modified  for  expression  of, 

ii.  152,  154,  156,  164,  171 
Marriage  as  regarded  by,  ii.  8,  529 
Martyrs  for,  see  Martyrs 
Mediaeval  development  in  relation  to, 

i.  ii,  170 

Mediation  doctrine  of,  i.  54,  59-60 
Militant  character  of,  in  early  centuries, 

i.  69-70,  75 

Miracles,  attitude  toward,  i.  50-1 
Monasticism,  see  that  heading 
Neo-Platonism  compared  with,  i.  51 
Pagan  ethics  inconsistent  with,  i.  66 
Pessimism  of,  toward  mortal  life,  i.  64 
Saints,  see  that  heading 
Salvation  : 

Master  motive,  as,  i.  59,  6l,  79,  89 


Christianity  (cont.) : 
Salvation  (cont. ) : 

Scholasticism's  main  interest,  as,  it. 

296-7,  300,  311 
Standard  of  discrimination,  as,  ii. 

530.  533-  559 

Scriptures,  see  that  heading 
Teutonic    acceptance    of,    ste    under 

Teutons 
Trinity  doctrine  of : 

Abaelard's  works  on,  ii.  10,  298  9. 

352-3.  355 

Aquinas  on,  ii.  449-50,  456 
Bonaventura  on,  ii.  416-17 
Dante's  vision,  ii.  551 
Peter  Lombard's  Book  on,  ii.  323 
Roscellin  on,  ii.  340 
Vernacular  presentation  of,  ii.  221 
Visions,  see  that  heading 
Chronicles,  mediaeval,  ii.  175 
Chrysostom,  i.  53 
Church,  Roman  Catholic : 

Authority  of,  Duns'  views  on,  ii.  516 

Bishops,  see  that  heading 

British   Church's    divergencies    from. 

171-2 

Canon  Law,  see  that  heading 
Charlemagne's  relations  with,  i.  2OI, 

239  ;  ii.  273 
Classical  study  as  regarded  by,  i.  260  ; 

ii.  zioseqq.,  396-7 
Clergy,  see  that  heading 
Confession  doctrine  of,  i.  489 
Constantine's  relations  with,  ii.  266 
Creation  of,  i.  ii,  68,  86-7 
Decretals,  etc. ,  see  -under  Canon  Law 
Denunciations  of,  i.  474-5  ;  ii.  34-5 
Diocesan  organization  of,  amongJGt-r- 

mans,  i.  196 

Doctrinal  literature  of,  i.  68-70 
Duns'  attitude  towards,  ii.  513 
East  and  West,  solidarity  of  develop- 
ment of,  i.  55 
Empire's    relations    with,    set    under 

Papacy 
Eternal  punishment  doctrine  of,  i.  65. 

339,  486  ;  ii.  550 

Eucharistic  controversy,  see  thai  head- 
ing 

Fathers   of  the,   see  Greek  thought, 
patristic  ;  Latin  Fathers ;  andchufy 
Patristic  thought 
Feudalism  as  affected  by,  i.  524,  527- 

9  and  n.2.  530 

Feudalism  as  affecting,  i.  244,  473 
Prankish,  see  under  Franks 
Gallo-Roman,  i.  191-2,  194 
Hildegard's  visions  regarding,  i.  457 
Intolerance  of,   see  sub-heading  Per- 
secutions 

Investiture    controversy,     stt     under 
Bishops 


568 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


Church,  Roman  Catholic  (cont. ) : 

Irish  Church's  relations  with,  i.  172-4 

and  n.1 
Isidore's  treatise  on  liturgical  practices 

of,  i.  106 

Knights'  vow  of  obedience  to,  i.  530 
Mass,  the : 

Alleluia  chant  and  Sequence-hymn, 
ii.  196,  201  seqq. 

Symbolism  of,  ii.  77-8 
Nicene  Creed,  i.  69 
Papacy,  Popes,  see  those  headings 
Paschal  controversy,  see  Eucharistic 
Penance  doctrine  of,  i.  101,  195 
Persecutions  by,  i.  339;  of  Albigenses, 

i.   366-7,  461,  481,  572  ;   ii.   168 ; 

of  Jews,  i.  118,  332;  of  Montanists, 

i-  332 

Popes,  see  that  heading 
Predestination,  attitude  toward,  i.  228 
Property  of,  enactments  regarding,  ii. 

266 

Rationalists  in,  i.  305 
Reforms  in  (nth  cent.),  i.  304 
Roman  law  for,  ii.  265  and  n.z 
Sacraments  : 

Definition  of  the  word,  ii.  72  and 
n.1 

Hugo  of  St.  Victor  on,  ii.  64,  66, 
68-9,  7L  72-4-  90  «.* 

Origin  of,  Bonaventura  on,  ii.  411- 

13 

Pagan  analogy  with,  i.  53,  59-60 
Secularization  of  dignities  of,  i.  472 
Simony  in,  i.  244,  475 
Spain,  in,  see  under  Spain 
Standards  set  by,  ii.  528-9 
Suspects  to,  estimate  of,  ii.  532 
Synod  of  Aix  (817),  i.  359 
Theodosian   Code   as   concerning,   ii. 

266-7  an-d  n-1 
Transubstantiation  doctrine  of,  i.  226- 

227 
"Truce  of  God"  promulgated  by,  i. 

529  «.2 
Churches : 

Building  of,  symbolism  in,  ii.  78-82 
Dedication  of,  sequence  designed  for, 

ii.  2IO-H 

Cicero,  i.  26  n.3,  39,  78,  219 
Cino,  ii.  264 
Cistercian  Order : 

Charta  charitatis,  i.  361-3 
Clairvaux  founded,  i.  393 
Cluniac  controversies  with,  i.  360 
Citeaux  monastery : 

Bernard  at,  i.  360,  393 
Foundation  and  rise  of,  i.  360-3 
Cities  and  towns : 

Growth  of,  in  i2th  cent.,  i.  305  ;  ii. 

379-80 
Italian,  see  under  Italy 


Cities  (civitates)  of  Roman  provinces,  i. 

29-30 

Clairvaux  (Clara  Vallis) : 
Founding  of,  i.  360,  393 
Position  of,  i.  362 
St.  Bernard's  love  of,  i.  401-9 
Classics,  see  Latin  classics 
Claudius,    Bp.    of  Turin,    i.   215,   231-2 

and  n.1 

Claudius,  Emp. ,  i.  30 
Clement  II.,  Pope,  i.  243 
Clement  IV.,  Pope,  ii.  489-91 
Clement  V. ,  Pope,  Decretales  Clementinae 

of,  ii.  272 

Clement  of  Alexandria,  ii.  64 
Clergy  : 

Accusations  against,  false,  penalty  for, 

ii.  266 

Legal  status  of,  ii.  382 
Regular,  see  Monasticism 
Secular : 

Concubinage  of,  i.  244 

Francis  of  Assisi's  attitude  toward,  i. 

430,  440 

Marriage  of,  i.  472  n.1 
Reforms  of,  i.  359 
Standard  of  conduct  for,  i.  471  ;  ii. 

529 

Term,  scope  of,  i.  356 
Clerval,  Abb6,  cited,  i.  300  n.1 
Clopinel,  Jean,  see  De  Meun 
Clovis  (Chlodoweg),  i.  114,  117,  119-21, 

122,  138,  193-4 ;  ii.  245 
Cluny  monastery  : 

Abaelard  at,  ii.  25,  26,  345 

Characteristics  of,  i.  359-60 

Monastic  reforms  accomplished  by,  i. 

293.  3°4 

Cologne,  i.  29,  31 

Columba,  St. ,  of  lona,  i.  133-7,  X73 
Columbanus,  St. ,  of  Luxeuil  and  Bobbio, 
i.    6,    133,    174-9.    J9^  I    Life  and 
works  of,  174  «.* 
Combat,  trial  by,  i.  232 
Commentaries,  mediaeval : 
Boethius',  i.  93 

Excerpts  as  characteristic  of,  i.  104 
General  addiction  to,  ii.  390,  553  w.4 
Originals  supplanted  by,  ii.  390 
Raban's,  i.  222-3 
Compends  : 

Fourteenth  century  use  of,  ii.  523 
Mediaeval  preference  for,  i.  94 
Medical,  in  Italy,  i.  251 
Saints'   lives,    of  (Legenda  aurea),  ii. 

184 

Conrad,  Duke  of  Franconia,  i.  241 
Conrad  II.,  Emp.,  i.  243 
Constantine,  Emp.,  ii.  266;  "Donation" 

of,  ii.  35,  265,  270 

Const  an  tinus  Africanus,   i.   251  and  n. ; 
ii.  372 


INDEX 


569 


Cordova,  i.  25 
Cornelius  Nepos,  i.  25 
Comificiani,  ii.  132,  373 
Cosmogony : 

Aquinas'  theory  of,  ii.  456 

Mediaeval  allegorizing  of,  ii.  65  seqq. 

Patristic  attitude  toward,  i.  72-4 
Cosmology,  Alan's,   in  Anticlaudianus, 

»•  377 

Cremona,  i.  24 
Cross,  Christian  : 

Magic  safeguard,  as,  i.  294-5 

Mediaeval  feeling  for,  ii.  197 
Crusades  : 

Constantinople,  capture  of,  as  affect- 
ing Western  learning,  ii.  391 

First  : 

Chansons  concerning,  i.  537-8 
Character  of,  i.  535-7 
Guibert's  account  of,  ii.  175 

Hymn  concerning,  quoted,  i.  349  and  n. 

Italians  little  concerned  in,  ii.  189 

Joinville's  account  of,  quoted,  i.  546-9 

Language  of,  i.  531 

Results  of,  i.  305 

Second,  i.  394 

Spirit  of,  i.  535-7 
Cuchulain,  i.  129  and  nn.*-3 
Cynewulf's  Christ,  i.  183 
Cyprian  quoted,  i.  337  it. 
Cyril  of  Alexandria,  i.  227 
Cyril  of  Jerusalem,  i.  53 

Da  Romano,  Alberic,  i.  515-16 

Da  Romano,  Eccelino,  i.  505-6,  516 

Dacia,  Visigoths  in,  i.  112 

Damiani,  St.  Peter,  Card.  Bp.  of  Ostia, 
career  of,  i.  262-4  >  attitude  of,  to 
the  classics,  i.  260  ;  ii.  112,  165  ;  on 
the  hermit  life,  i.  369-70 ;  on  tears,  i. 
371  andn.;  extract  illustrating  Latin 
style  of,  ii.  165  andn.3;  works  of, 
i.  263  n.1;  writings  quoted,  i.  263-7; 
Liber  Gomorrhianus,  \.  265,  474  ; 
Vita  Romualdi,  i.  372  seqq.  ;  bio- 
graphy of  Dominicus  Loricatus,  i. 
381-2  ;  De  parentelae  gradibus,  ii. 
252  ;  otherwise  mentioned,  i.  17,  19, 
20,  260,  343,  345,  391  ;  ii.  34 

Damianus,  i.  262,  265 

Danes,  i.  142,  153 

Dante,  estimate  of,  ii.  534-5  ;  scholar- 
ship of,  ii.  541  ».a ;  possessed  by 
spirit  of  allegory,  ii.  552-5  ;  com- 
pared with  Aquinas  and  influenced 
by  him,  ii.  541  n.*,  547,  549.  551- 
555  ;  compared  with  Bonaventura, 
ii.  547 ;  attitude  to  Beatrice,  ii. 
555-8  ;  on  love,  ii.  555-6  ;  on  mon- 
archy, ii.  278  ;  De  monarckia,  ii. 
535  ;  De  vulgari  eloquentia,  ii.  219, 
536 ;  Vita  nuava,  ii.  556,  559 ; 


Convito,  ii.  537-8,  553; 
Commedia.  \.  12  i».  ;  ii.  86,  99  ».', 
103,  219 ;  commentaries  on  this 
work,  ii.  553-4  ;  estimate  of  it.  ii. 
538.  S40-I.  544.  553-4  :  Inferno 
cited,  n.  42.  541-3.  545-7;  Pvrga- 
torio  cited,  ii.  535,  542-3,  548  9. 
554.  558  I  Paradiso  cited,  i.  395  ; 
".  54a-3,  549-51,  558 

Dares   the  Phrygian,    ii.    116   and  m.', 
224-5  and  nn. .  226-7 

De  bello  et  excidio   vrbis   Comexrit,  ii. 
189-90 

De  Boron,  Robert,  i.  567 

De  casu  Diaboli,  i.  279 

De  consolatione  philosofkiae.   tee  tinder 
Boethius 

De  Lorris,  Guillaume.  Roman  de  la  rose 
by,  i.  586-7  ;  ii.  103  and  a.1,  104 

De  Meun,  Jean  (Clopinel).  Roman  de  la 
,     rose  by,  ii.  103  and  n.1.  104.  223 

Denis,  St.,  i.  230 

Dermot    (Diarmaid,    Diarmuid).    High- 
King  of  Ireland,  L  132-3.  135,  136 

Desiderius,  Bp.  of  Vienne.  i.  99 

Desiderius,  Pope,  i.  253.  263 

Devil,  the : 

Mediaeval  beliefs  and  stories  as  to.  L 

487  seqq. 

Romuald's  conflicts  with,  i.  374,  379- 
80 

Dialectic  (See  also  Logic) : 
Abaelard's  skill  in,  ii.  118.  119,  345-6, 
353  ;  his  subjection  of  dogma  to,  ii. 
304  ;  his  Dialectica,  ii.  346  and  nn. , 

349-5° 

Chartres  study  of,  i.  298 

Duns  Scotus'  mastery  of,  ii.  510,  514 

Grammar  penetrated  by,  ii.  \rj  seqq. 

Hugo  of  St.  Victor  on.  ii.  67 

Raban's  view  of,  i.  222 

Thirteenth  century  study  of.  ii.  118-20 
Diarmaid  (Diarmuid),  see  Dermot 
Dictamen,  ii.  121,  129.  381 
Dictys  the  Cretan,  ii.  224,  225  andn.1 
Dies  irae,  i.  348 

Dionysius  the  Areopagite.  \\   10,  102,  344 
Divina  Commedia,  see  under  Dante 
Divination,  ii.  374 
Dominic,  St ,  i.  366-7.  497 ;  ii.  396 
Dominican  Order : 

Aristotelianism  of,  ii.  404 

Founding  of,  i.  366  ;    "-  396 

Growth  of,  i.  498  ;    ii.  398 

Object  of,  ii.  396 

Oxford  University,  at.  ii.  387 

Papacy,  relations  with,  ii.  398.  509 

Paris  University,  position  in.  ii.  386, 

399 

Dominicus  Loricatus.  i.  263.  381-3 
Donatus,   i.  71.   297  ;     Ars  minor  and 

BarbariimMsal,  ii.  123-4 


570 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


Donizo  of  Canossa,  ii.  189  and  «.2 
Druids  : 

Gallic,  i.  28,  296 
Irish,  i.  133 
Du    Guesclin,    Bertrand,    Constable    of 

France,  i.  554-6,  557  n. 
Duns    Scotus,    education    of,    ii.    511  ; 

career  of,  ii.   513  ;   estimate  of,  ii. 

513  ;    intricacy  of  style  of,  ii.  510, 

514,  516  n.2  ;  on  logic,  ii.  504  w.8  ; 

Occam's    attitude   toward,    ii.    518 

seqq. ;    editions  of  works  of,  ii.  511 

n.1;  estimate  of  his  work,  ii.  509-10, 

SI4 
Dunstan,    St.,    Abp.    of  Canterbury,   i. 

323-4 
Durandus,  Guilelmus,  Rationale  divino- 

rum  officiorum  of,  ii.  76  seqq. 

Eadmer,  i.  269,  273,  277 

Eastern  Empire  : 

Prankish  relations  with,  i.  123 
Huns'  relations  with,  i.  112-13 
Norse  mercenaries  of,  i.  153 
Ostrogoths'  relations  with,  i.  114 
Roman  restoration  by,  i.  115 

Ebroin,  i.  209 

Eckbert,  Abbot  of  Shonau,  i.  444 

Ecstasy : 

Bernard's  views  on,  ii.  368 
Examples  of,  i.  444,  446 

Eddas,  ii.  220 

Education  : 

Carolingian  period,  in,  i.  213-14, 
218-19,  222>  236;  ii.  no,  122, 
158.  332 

Chartres  method  of,  ii.  130-1 
Grammar   a   chief  study   in,    ii.    122 

&99-,  331-2 

Italy,  in,  see  under  Italy 
Latin  culture  the  means  and  method 

of,  i.  12  ;  ii.  109 
Schools,  clerical  and  monastic,  i.  250 

n.2.  293 

Schools,  lay,  i.  249-51 
Seven  Liberal  Arts,  see  that  heading 
Shortening  of  academic   course,    ad- 
vocates of,  ii.  132,  373 
Edward  II.,  King  of  England,  i.  551 
Edward  III.,  King  of  England,  i.  550-1 
Edward  the  Black  Prince,  i.  554-6 
Einhard  the  Frank,  i.  234  n.1 ;  Life  of 

Charlemagne  by,  i.  215  ;  ii.  158-9 
Ekkehart  family,  i.  309 
Ekkehart  of  St  Gall,   Waltarius  (  Wat- 

tharilitd)  by,  ii.  188 
El-Farabi,  ii.  390 
Eleventh  century : 

Characteristics  of,  i.  301 ;  in  France, 
i.  301,  304,  328  ;  in  Germany,  i. 
307-9  ;  in  England,  i.  324  ;  in  Italy, 
i.  327 


Eleventh  century  (cont. ) : 

Christianity  in,  position  of,  i.  16 
Elias,  Minister-General  of  the  Minorites, 

i.  499 
Elizabeth,  St.,  of  Hungary,  i.  391,  465 

n.1 
Elizabeth,  St. ,  of  Schonau,  visions  of,  i. 

444-6 
Emotional  development,  secular,  i.  349-50 

and  «.2 

Empire,  the,  see  Holy  Roman  Empire 
Encyclopaedias,  mediaeval,  ii.  316  «.'•*; 

Vincent's  Speculum  majus,  ii.  315-22 
Eneas,  ii.  225,  226 
Engelbert,   Abp.   of  Cologne,  i.  481-6  ; 

estimate  of,  i.  482 
England  (See  also  Britain)  : 

Danish  Viking  invasion  of,  i.  153 
Eleventh  century  conditions  in,  i.  324 
Law    in,    principles    of,    i.     141-2; 

Roman  law  almost  non-existent  in 

Middle  Ages,  ii.  248 
Norman  conquest  of,  linguistic  result 

of,  i.  324 

English  language,  character  of,  i.*324 
Epicureanism,  i.  41,  70;  ii.  296,  312 
Eriugena,  John  Scotus,  estimate  of,  i. 

215,  228-9,  23J I  "•  33°  :  on  reason 

v.  authority,  ii.  298,  302  ;  works  of, 

studied    at    Chartres,    i.    299 ;    De 

divisione  naturae,  i.  230-1  ;  ii.  302  ; 

otherwise    mentioned,     i.     16 ;    ii. 

282  «.,  312 
Essenes,  i.  334 

Ethelbert,  King  of  Kent,  i.  180-1 
Etymologies  of  Isidore,    i.    33,  105  and 

w.1, 107-9;  "•  3*8;  law  codes  glossed 

from,  ii.  250 

Eucharistic  (Paschal)  controversy : 
Berengar's  contribution  to,  i.  302-3 
Paschasius'  contribution  to,  i.  225-7 
Eucherius,  Bp.  of  Lyons,  ii.  48  «. * 
Euclid,  i.  40 

Eudemus  of  Rhodes,  i.  38 
Eunapius,  i.  47,  52 
Euric,  King  of  the  Visigoths,  i.  117  and 

w.1 

Eusebius,  i.  81  ».2 
Evil  or  sin  : 

Abaelard's  views  concerning,  ii.  350 
Eriugena's  views  concerning,  i.  228 
Original  sin,  realism  in  relation  to,  ii. 

340  «. 
Peter  Lombard  and  Aquinas  contrasted 

as  to,  ii.  308-10 
Experimental  science,  Bacon  on,  ii.  502-8 

Fabliaux,  i.  521  n.* ;  ii.  222 

Facts,  unlimited  actuality  of,  i.  79-80 

Faith : 

Abaelard's  definition  of,  ii.  354 

Bacon's  views  on,  ii.  507 


INDEX 


571 


Faith  (cont, ) : 

Bernard  of  Clairvaux's  attitude  toward, 

''•  355 

Caritas  in  relation  to,  ii.  479-81 
Cognition  through,  Aquinas'  views  on, 

ii.  446 

Occam's  views  on,  ii.  519 
Proof  of  matters  of,  Aquinas  on,  ii.  450 
Will  as  functioning  in,-ii.  479 

False  Decretals,  i.  104  «.,  118  n.1 

Fathers  of  the  Church  (See  also  Patristic 

thought) : 

Greek,  see  Greek  thought,  patristic 
Latin,  see  Latin  Fathers 

Faustus,  ii.  44 

Felix,  St.,  i.  86 

Feudalism  (See  also  Knighthood) : 
Anarchy  of,  modification  of,  i.  304 
Austrasian  disintegration  by,  i.  240 
Chansons  regarding,  i.  559  seqq. ,  569 
Christianity  in  relation  to,  i.  524,  527- 

9  and  n.2,  530 

Church  affected  by,  i.  244,  473 
Italy  not  greatly  under,  i.  241 
Marriage  as  affected  by,  i.  571,  586 
Obligations  of,  i.  533-4 
Origin  of,  522-3 

Principle  and  practice  of,  at  variance, 
i.  522 

Fibonacci,  Leonardo,  ii.  501 

Finnian,  i.  136 

Flamenco,  i.  565 

Flore  et  Blanchefleur,  i.  565 

Floras,  Deacon,  of  Lyons,  i.  229  and  n. 

Fonte  Avellana  hermitage,  i,  262-3,  3&1 

Forms,  new,  creation  of,  see  Mediaeval 
thought — Restatement 

Fortunatus,  Hymns  by,  ii.  196-7 

Fourteenth  century : 

Academic  decadence  in,  ii.  523 
Papal  position  in,  ii.  509-10 

France  (For  particular  districts,  towns, 

etc. ,  see  their  names)  : 
Antique,    the,    in   relation   to,    before 

Middle  Ages,  i.  9-10 
Arthurian  romances  developed   in,   i. 

566 

Cathedrals  of,  ii.  539,  554-5 
Church  in,  secularization  of,  i.  472-3 
Eleventh  century  conditions  in,  i.  301, 

304,  328 

History  of,  in  nth  century,  i.  300 
Hundred  Years'  War,  i.  550  seqq. 
Jacquerie  in  (1358),  i.  556 
Language  modifications  in,  ii.  155 
Literary  celebrities  in  (i2th  cent.),  ii. 

168 

Monarchy  of,  advance  of,  i.  305 
North  and  South,  characteristics  of,  i. 

328 

Rise  of,  in  i4th  century,  ii.  509 
Town-dwellers  of,  i.  495.  5°8 


Francis,  St.,  of  Assisi.  birth  of.  i.  415 ; 
parentage,  i.  419  ;  youth,  L  410-3 ; 
breach  with  his  father,  i.  433-4 . 
monastic  career,  i.  427  «yy. ; 
French  songs  sung  by,  i.  419  and 
n.8,  427,  432  ;  Lives  of,  L  415  *  ; 
style  of  Thomas  of  Celano's  Life,  \\. 
182-3  !  Speculum  perfectionii,  i. 

415  "••  4*6  n.,  438  a*;  ii.  183: 
literal  acceptance  of  Scripture  by,  i. 
365,  406-7  ;  on  Scripture  interpreta- 
tion, i.  427  n.1;  ii.  183;  universality 
of  outlook,  i.  417  ;  mediacvalism, 
i.  417;  Christ  -  influence,  i.  417, 
418,  432-3  ;  inspiration,  i.  4190.'. 
441  ;  gaiety  of  spirit,  i.  421,  427-8, 
431-2 ;  poetic  temperament,  i.  433, 
435  ;  love  of  God,  man.  and  nature, 
i.  366,  428.  432-3.  435-7 ;  sim- 
plicity,  i.  429 ;  obedience  and 
humility,  i.  365  n. ,  429  -  30 ; 
humanism,  i.  495 ;  St.  Bernard 
compared  with.  i.  415-16 ;  St 
Dominic  contrasted  with,  ii.  396 ; 
Fioretti,  ii.  184 ;  Canticle  of 
Brother  Sun,  i.  433-4,  439-40 : 
last  testament  of,  i.  440-1 ;  other- 
wise mentioned,  L  20,  21,  279,  344, 
345.  355-6  ;  ii.  302 
Franciscan  Order  : 

Attractiveness  of,  i.  498 

Augustinianism  of,  ii.  404 

Bacon's  relations  with,  ii.  486,   488, 

490-1 

Characteristics  of,  i.  366 
Founding  of,  i.  427 ;  ii.  396 
Grosseteste's  relations,  ii.  4871  5 '  i 
Object  of,  ii.  396 

Oxford  University,  at,  ii.  387,  400 
Papacy,  relations  with,  ii.  398,  509 
Paris  University,  in,  ii.  386,  399 
Rise  of,  ii.  398 
Franconia,  i.  241 
Franks  (See  also  Germans) : 
Christianity  as  accepted  by,  i.  193 
Church  among  : 

Bishops,  position  of,  i.  194  and  nn  . 

198,  201  n. 
Charlemagne's  relations  with,  i.  201. 

239 ;  ii.  273 
Clovis,  under,  i.  194 
Lands  -held   by,  i.   194.   '99  •  ao°  • 

immunities  of,  i.  soi  and  n.\ 
Organization  of,  i.  199 
Reform  of,  by  Boniface.  i.   196 :  N. 

373 

Roman  character  of,  i.  301 
Division  of  the  kingdom  a  custom  of. 

i.  338-9 

Gallo-  Roman  relations  with,  i.  133 
Language  of,  i.  145  *.*, 
Law  of,  ii.  345-6 


572 


THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


Franks  (cont. )  : 

Missi  dominici,  i.  211 
Ripuarian,  i.  119,  121  ;  ii.  246 
Romanizing  of,  partial,  i.  9-10 
Salian,  i.  113,  119;  Code,  ii.  245-6 
Saracens  defeated  by,  i.  209-10  n.1 
Trojan  origin  of,  belief  as  to,   ii.  225 

and  n,1 

Frederic,  Count  of  Isenburg,  i.  483-6 
Frederick     I.     (Barbarossa),     Emp.,     i. 

448 

Frederick   II.,   Emp.,   under  Innocent's 
guardianship,     ii.    32-3 ;    crowned, 
ii.    33  ;  estimate  of,   i.   497  ;   other- 
wise  mentioned,    i.    250   «.4,   417, 
481,  505,  510,  517 
Free,  meaning  of  term,  i.  526  n.3 
Free  Companies,  i.  556 
Free  will : 

Angelic,  ii.  473 
Duns  Scotus  on,  ii.  515 
Human,  ii.  475 

Richard  of  Middleton  on,  ii.  512 
Freidank,  i.  475  ;  ii.  35 
Frescoes,  i.  346-7 
Friendship,   chivalric,   i.   561-2,    569-70, 

583 
Frisians,  i.    169,   174  ;  missionary  work 

among,  i.  197,  200,  209 
Froissart,  Sir  John,  Chronicles  of,  i.  549 

seqq. ;  estimate  of  the  work,  i.  557 
Froumund  of  Tegernsee,   i.   312-13  ;  ii. 

no 
Fulbert,  Bp.  of  Chartres,  i.  287,   296-7, 

299 

Fulbert,  Canon,  ii.  4-6,  9 
Fulco,  Bp.  of  Toulouse,  i.  461 
Fulda  monastery,  i.  198,  221  w.2 
Fulk  of  Anjou,  ii.  138 

Gaius,  Institutes  of,  ii.  241,  243 
Galahad,  i.  569-70,  583,  584  and  n* 
Galen  of  Pergamos,  i.  40,  251 
Gall,  St.,  i.  6,  178,  196 
Gallo- Romans  : 

Feudal  system  among,  i.  523 
Frankish  rule  over,  i.  120,  123 
Literature  of,  i.  126  «.2 
Gandersheim  cloister,  i.  311 
Gaul  (For  particular  districts,  towns, etc., 

see  their  names) : 
Celtic  inhabitants  of,  i.    125  and  n., 

126-7,  I29  w-1 
Druidism  in,  i.  28,  296 
Ethnology  of,  i.  126 
Heathenism   in,    late    survival    of,    i. 

191  n.1 

Latinization  of,  i.  9-10,  29-32 
Visigothic  kingdom  in  south  of,  i.  112, 

116,  117,  121 

Gauls,  characteristics  and  customs  of,  i. 
27-8 


Geoffrey  of  Beaulieu,  Life  of  St.   Louis 

by,  i.  539-42 
Gepidae,  i.  113,  115 
Geraldus,  St.,  i.  281. 
Gerard,  brother  of  St.  Bernard,  i.  402-4 
Gerbert  of  Aurillac,  see  Sylvester  II. 
German  language  : 

Christianity  as  affecting,  i.  202 

High  and  Low,  separation  of,  i.  145  «.2 

Middle    High    German    literature,    ii. 

168,  221 

Old  High  German  poetry,  ii.  194,  220 
Germans  (Saxons)  (See  also  Franks)  : 
Characteristics  of,  i.  138-40,  147,  151-2 
Language  of,  see  German  language 
Latin    as    studied   by,    i.    307-9 ;    ii. 

123,  155 

Literature  of,  ii.  220-1    (See  also  sub- 
heading Poetry) 
Marriage  as  regarded  by,  ii.  30 
Nationalism  of,  in  i3th  cent.,  ii.  28 
Poetry  of : 

Hildebrandslied,  \.  145-7 

Kudrun  (Gndruti),  i.  148,   149-52  ; 

ii.  220 
Nibelungenlied,     i.     145-6,     148-9, 

152,  193,  203  n.2 ;  ii.  220 
Waltarivs,  i.  i^-j  and  n. ,  148 
otherwise   mentioned,    i,    113,    115, 

119,  174,  209,  210 
Germany  : 

Antique,    the,    in   relation    to,    before 

Middle  Ages,  i.  10-11 
Art  in  (nth  cent.),  i.  312 
Church  in,  secularization  of,  i.  472 
Italy  contrasted  with,  as  to  culture,  i. 

249-50 

Merovingian  supremacy  in,  i.  121 
Papacy  as  regarded  by,  ii.  28,  33,  34-5 
Sequence-composition  in,  ii.  215 
Gertrude  of  Hackeborn,  Abbess,  i.  466 
Gilbert   de  la  Porree,    Bp.   of  Poictiers, 

ii.  132,  372 

Gilduin,  Abbot  of  St.  Victor,  ii.  62  and  n.2 
Giraldus  Cambrensis,  ii.  135  and  n. 
Girard,  Bro. ,  of  Modena,  i.  498 
Glaber,  Radulphus,  Histories  of,  i.  488  w. 
Glass-painting,  ii.  82-6 
Gnosticism,  i.  51  w.1 
Gnostics,  Eriugena  compared  with,  i.  231 

and  n.1 

Godehard,  Bp.  of  Hildesheim,  i.  312 
Godfrey  of  Bouillon,  i.  535-8 
Godfrey  of  Viterbo,  ii.  190  and  n.4 
Gondebaud,  King  of  the  Burgundians,  ii. 

242 

Good  and  the  true  compared,  ii.  441,  512 
Goths  (See  also  Visigoths)  : 
Christianity  of,  i.  192,  194 
Roman  Empire  invaded  by,  i.  1 1 1  seqq. 
Gottfried  von  Strassburg,  i.  567  ;  ii.  223  ; 
Tristan  of,  i.  577-82 


INDEX 


573 


Gottschalk,  i.  215,  221  ».a.  224-5,  227-8; 

verses  by,  ii.  197-9 
Government  : 

Church  v.  State  controversy,  ii.  276-7 

(See  also  Papacy — Empire) 
Ecclesiastical,  see  Canon  Law 
Monarchical,  ii.  277-8 
Natural  law  in  relation  to,  ii.  278-9 
Representative  assemblies,  ii.  278 
Grace,  Aquinas'  definition  of,  ii.  478-9 
Grail,  the,  i.  589,  596-7,  607,  608,  613 
Grammar : 

Chartres  studies  in,  i.  298  ;  ii.  129-30 
Current   usage   followed   by,    ii.     163 

and  a. J 

Hugo  of  St.  Victor  on,  ii.  67 
Importance  and  predominance  of,  in 
Middle  Ages,   i.    109  and  n. ,  2Q2 ; 
ii.  331-2 

Italian  study  of,  ii,  129,  381 
Language  continuity  preserved  by,  ii. 

122-3,  ^L  iSS 

Law  studies  in  relation  to,  ii.  121 
Logic   in   relation   to,    ii.    127   seqq., 
333-4  ;  in  Abaelard's  work,  ii.  346 
Raban's  view  of,  i.  222 
Scholastic  classification  of,  ii.  313 
Syntax,  connotation  of  term,  ii.  125 
Works  on — Donatus,    Priscian,  Alex- 
ander, ii.  123  seqq. 
Grammarian,  meaning  of  term,  i.  250 
Gratianus,  Decretum  of,  ii.  268-9,  270-1, 

306,  380-2  ;  dicta,  ii.  271 
Greek     classics,      see     Greek     thought, 

pagan 
Greek  language  : 

Oxford  studies  in,  ii.  120,  391,  487 
Translations    from,    direct,    in    i3th 

cent.,  ii.  391 
Greek  legends,  mediaeval  allegorizing  of, 

ii.  52,  56-9 

Greek  novels,  ii.  224  and  n. 
Greek  thought,  pagan  : 

Bacon's  attitude  toward,  ii.  492-3 
Breadth  of  interest  of,  ii.  109 
Christian  standpoint  contrasted  with, 

i.  390  ;  ii.  295-6 

Church  Fathers  permeated  by,  i.  33-4 
Completeness  of  schemes  presented  by, 

»•  394 

Limitless,  the,  abhorrent  to,  i.  353-4 
Love  as  regarded  by,  i.  575 
Metaphysics  in,  ii.  335-7 
Scholasticism  contrasted  with,  ii.  296 
Summa  moralium  philosophorum,    ii. 

373 

Symbolism  in,  n.  42,  50 

Transmutation  of,  through  Latin  me- 
dium, i.  4 

Greek  thought,  patristic  (See  also  Patristic 
thought) : 

Comparison  of,  with  Latin,  i.  68 


Greek  thought,  patristic  (font. ) : 

Pagan  philosophic  thought  contrasted 

with,  ii.  395-6 
Symbolism  in,  ii.  43 
Transmutation  of,  through  Latin  me* 
dium,  i.  5.  34  and  n. 

Gregorianus,  ii.  240.  243 

Gregory.  Bp.  of  Tours,  i.  iai ;  Historic 
Francorum  by,  L  234  ».* ;  ii.  155 

Gregory  I.  (the  Great).  Pope,  family  and 
education  of.  i.  97 ;  Augustine  of 
Hippo  compared  with.  i.  98-9 ; 
Augustinianism  barbarized  by.  i.  98. 
102 ;  sends  mission  to  England,  i. 
6,  33,  180  I  and  n.1  ;  estimate  of. 
i-  56.  89,  103-3,  342 ;  estimate  of 
his  writings,  i.  354  ;  on  miracles,  i. 
i  QO,  182  ;  on  secular  studies,  ii. 
288  ;  letter  to  Theoctista  cited.  L 
102  n.1 ;  editions  of  works  of.  i.  97 
n. ;  works  of,  translated  by  King 
Alfred,  i.  187;  Dialogues  on  the 
Lives  and  Miracles  of  the  Italian 
Saints,  i.  85  and  n.*,  100 ;  Moralia, 
i.  97.  100  ;  ii.  57 ;  Odo's  epitome  of 
this  work,  ii.  161  ;  Commentary  on 
Kings,  i.  ioo  n.l\  Pastoral  Rule.  i. 
102,  187-8  ;  otherwise  mentioned, 
i.  16  and  n.*,  65,  87,  104,  116 

Gregory  II.,  Pope,  i.  197-8  ;    ii.  273 

Gregory  III.,  Pope,  i.  198  ;   ii.  273 

Gregory  VII.,  Pope  (Hildebrand).  claims 
of,  i.  244-5 '  "•  274  •  relations  with 
Damiani,  i.  263  ;  exile  of,  i.  244, 
253  ;  estimate  of,  i.  261  ;  otherwise 
mentioned,  i.  17,  174  x.1.  243,  304 

Gregory  IX.,  Pope,  codification  by.  of 
Canon  law,  ii.  272  ;  efforts  of,  to 
improve  education  of  the  Church,  ii. 
398  ;  mentioned,  i.  476  ;  ii.  33 

Gregory  of  Nyssa,  i.  53,  80,  87,  340 

Grosseteste,  Robert,  Chancellor  of  Oxford 
University  and  Bp.  of  Lincoln,  Greek 
studies  promoted  by,  ii.  120.  391, 
487  ;  estimate  of,  ii.  511-12;  Augus- 
tinianism of,  ii.  403-4  :  attitude  to- 
ward the  classics,  ii.  120,  389 ; 
relations  with  Franciscan  Order,  ii. 
487,  511  ;  Bacon's  relations  with, 
ii.  487 

Gudrun  (Kudrun),  i.  148,  149-52 ;  ii. 
220 

Guigo,  Prior,  estimate  of,  i.  390-1 ;  re- 
lations with  St.  Bernard,  i.  405 ; 
Consuetudines  Cartkusiat  by,  i.  384; 
Meditatione*  of,  i.  385-90 

Guinevere,  i.  569,  584  and  it.1.  585 

Guiot  de  Provens.  "  Bible"  of.  i.  475-6 
and  n.1 

Guiscard,  Robert,  ii.  189  n.* 

Gumpoldus,  Bp.  of  Mantua.  Lift  tf 
Wencalaus  by,  it.  162  x. ' 


574 


THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


Gundissalinus,   Archdeacon  of  Segovia, 

ii.  312  and  n.4,  313 
Gunther,  Ligurinus  of,  ii.  192  and  n.* 
Gunzo  of  Novara,  i.  257-8 

Harding,  Stephen,  Abbot  of  Citeaux,  i. 

360.  36l.  393 

Harold  Fairhair,  i.  153 

Hartmann  von  Aue,  i.  348-9  and  n. , 
567  ;  ii.  29  «. 

Harun  al  Raschid,  Caliph,  i.  210 

Heinrich  von  Veldeke,  i.  567  ;  ii.  29  n. 

Heliand,  i.  203  and  nn. ,  308 

Helias,  Count  of  Maine,  ii.  138 

Hell. 

Dante's  descriptions  of,  ii.  546-7 
Fear  of,  i.  103,  339,  342,  383 
Visions  of,  i.  454-5,  456  n. 

Heloi'se,  Abaelard's  love  for,  ii.  4-5,  344; 
his  love-songs  to,  ii.  13,  207  ;  love 
of,  for  Abaelard,  i.  585  ;  ii.  3,  5>  8, 
9,  15-16  ;  birth  of  Astralabius,  ii.  6  ; 
opposes  marriage  with  Abaelard,  ii. 
6-9  ;  marriage,  ii.  9  ;  at  Argenteuil, 
ii.  9,  10 ;  takes  the  veil,  ii.  10  ;  at 
the  Paraclete,  ii.  10  seqq. ;  letters  of, 
to  Abaelard  quoted,  ii.  11-15,  17- 
20,  23,  24  ;  Abaelard's  letters  to, 
quoted,  ii.  16-17,  2I-3-  24"5  ;  Peter 
the  Venerable's  letter,  ii.  25-7 ;  letter 
of,  to  Peter  the  Venerable,  ii.  27  ; 
death  of,  ii.  27;  intellectual  capacity 
of,  ii.  3 

Henry  the  Fowler,  i.  241 

Henry  II.,  Emp. ,  i.  243  ;  dirge  on  death 
of,  ii.  216 

Henry  IV.,  Emp.,  i.  244;    ii.  167 

Henry  VI.,  Emp.,  ii.  32,  190 

Henry  I.,  King  of  England,  ii.  139,  146, 
176-8 

Henry  II.,   King   of  England,  ii.    133, 

I3S.  372 

Henry  of  Brabant,  ii.  391 
Henry  of  Ghent,  ii.  512 
Henry  of  Huntington  cited,  i.  525 
Henry  of  Septimella,  ii.  190  and  n.3 
Heretics  (For  particular  sects,  see  their 

names') : 
Abaelard's   views   on   coercion  of,  ii. 

35°.  354 

Insignificance  of,  in  relation  to  medi- 
aeval thought,  ii.  283  and  n. 
Theodosian  enactments  against,  ii.  266 
Twelfth  century,  in,  i.  305 
Herluin,  Abbot  of  Bee,  i.  271 
Hermann,  Landgrafof  Thiiringen,  1.589; 

ii.  29 

Hermann  Contractus,  i.  314-15  and  n.1 
Hermits : 
Irish,  i.  133 
Motives  of,  i.  335,  363 
Temper  of,  i.  368  seqq. 


Hermogenianus,  ii.  240,  243 
Herodotus,  i.  77 

Hesse,  Boniface's  work  in,  i.  197-8 
Hilarion,  St.,  i.  86 
Hilary,  Bp.  of  Poictiers,  i.  63,  68,  70 
Hildebert  of  Lavardin,  Bp.  of  Le  Mans 
and  Abp.   of  Tours,  career  of,  ii. 
137-40  ;    love   of    the    classics,    ii. 
141-2,  146,  531  ;  letters  of,  quoted, 
ii.    140,   143,    144-5,    J46-7 1    Latin 
text  of  letter,  ii.   172  ;    Latin  elegy 
by,  ii.    191  ;    otherwise  mentioned, 
ii.  61,  134,  373  n.z 
Hildebrand,  see  Gregory  VII. 
Hildebrandslied,  ii.  220 
Hildegard,  St.,  Abbess  of  Bingen,  dedica- 
tion of,  i.  447  ;   visions  of,  i.   267, 
449-59  ;  affinity  of,  with  Dante,  ii. 
539 ;    correspondence  of,    i.    448  ; 
works   of,    i.    446   n.  ;  Book  of  the 
Rewards  of  Life,  i.  452-6  ;  Scivias, 
'•    457*9 1   otherwise    mentioned,    i. 
20,  345,  443  ;  ii.  302,  365 
Hildesheim,  bishops  of  (nth  cent.),  i. 

312 

Hilduin,  Abbot,  i.  230 
Hincmar,  i.  215,  230,  233  n.1 
Hipparchus,  i.  40 
Hippocrates,  i.  40 
History : 

Carolingian  treatment  of,  i.  234-5 
Classical  attitude  toward,  i.  77-8 
Eleventh  century  treatment  of,  i.  300 
Historia  tripartita  of  Cassiodorus,  i. 

96-7 

Patristic  attitude  toward,  i.  80-4 
Seven   Books   of   Histories    adversum 

paganos  by  Orosius,  i.  82-3 
Holy  Roman  Empire : 

Burgundy  added  to,  i.  243  n.1 

German  character  of,  ii.  32 

Papacy,    relations     with,    see     under 

Papacy 

Refounding  of,  by  Otto,  i.  243 
Rise  of,  under  Charlemagne,  i.  212 
Honorius  II.,  Pope,  i.  531 
Honorius  III.,  Pope,  i.   366,  482,497; 

»•  33-  385  «••  398 
Honorius  of  Autun — on  classical  study,  ii. 

no,  112-13;  Speculum  ecclesiae  of, 

ii.  50  seqq.  ;  Gemma  animae,  ii.  77 

w.1 

Hosius,  Bp.  of  Cordova,  i.  118  n.1 
Hospitallers,  i.  531 
Hrotsvitha,  i.  311  and  «.2,  ii.  215  n.2 
Huesca  (Osca),  i.  25 
Hugh,  Abbot  of  Cluny,  ii.  137 
Hugh  Capet,  i.  239-40  and  n. 
Hugh  the  Great,  Count  of  Paris,  i.  241 
Hugh  of  Payns,  i.  531 
Hugo,  Archdeacon  of  Halberstadt,  ii.  62 
Hugo,  Bro.,  of  Montpellier,  i.  510-14 


INDEX 


575 


Hugo,  King,  i.  242 

Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  estimate  of,  ii.  63, 
III,  118,  301,  356;  allegorizing 
by,  ii.  367 ;  on  classical  study,  ii. 
1 10- 1 1  ;  on  logic,  ii.  333;  pupils 
of,  ii.  87  ;  works  of,  ii.  61  «.2  ; 
Didascalicon,  ii.  48  n.2,  63,  III,  312, 
357  and  tin.2"5  ;  De  sacramenlis 
Christianaefidei,  ii.  48  «.2,  64  seqq. , 
365,  395,  540 ;  Expositio  in  regulam 
beati  Augustini,  ii.  62  «.2  ;  De  area 
Not  morali,  ii.  75  «.,  365-7;  De 
area  Noe  mystica,  ii.  367  ;  De  vani- 
tatemundi,\\.7Sn.,l\l-l2\  Sumtna 
sententiarum,  ii.  356  ;  Sermons  on 
Ecclesiastes,  ii.  358-9  ;  otherwise 
mentioned,  i.  17,  20,  457  ;  ii.  404 

Humanists,  ii.  126 

Humiliati  of  Lombardy,  i.  365 

Hungarians,  i.  241-2 

Huns,  i.  112,  119,  193 

Huon  de  Bordeaux,  i.  564 

Hy  (lona)  Island,  i.  136,  173 

Hymns,  Christian  : 

Abaelard,  by,  ii.  25,  207-9 

Estimate  of,  i.  21 

Evolution  of,  i.  347-9  andn.;  ii.  196, 

200  seqq. 

Hildegard's  visions  regarding,  i.  459 
Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  by,  ii.  86  seqq. 
Sequences,    development   of,  ii.    196, 
201-6  ;    Adam   of  St.    Victor's,  ii. 
209-15 

lamblicus,  i.  42,  47,  51,  56-7  ;  ii.  295 
Iceland,  Norse  settlement  in,  i.  153 
Icelanders,   characteristics  and   customs 

of,  i.  154 

Icelandic  Sagas,  see  Sagas 
Ideal  v.  actual,  i.  353  seqq. 
Innocent  II.,  Pope,  i.  394;  ii.  10 
Innocent  III.,  Pope,  i.   417,  481,  497; 

ii.  32,  274,  384-  398 
Innocent  IV.,  Pope,  i.  506 
Intellectus  agens,  ii.  464,  507  n.2 
lona  (Hy)  Island,  i.  136,  173 
Ireland  : 

Celts  in,  see  Irish 

Church  of,  missionary  zeal  of,  i.  133, 
136,  172  seqq. 

Danish  settlements  in,  i.  153 

Monasteries  in,  i.  153  n.1,  173 

Norse  invasion  of,  i.  134 

Scholarship  in,  i.  l8on.,  184-5 
Irenaeus,  Bp.  of  Lyons,  i.  225 
Irish: 

Art  of,  i.  128  w.1 

Characteristics  of,   i.   128,    13°.    *33' 
179 

History  of,  i.  1 27  and  n. 

Influence  of,  on  mediaeval  feeling,  i. 
179  and  n. 


Irish  (font. ) : 
Literature  of.  i.  128  and  n  -.  xapaeqq. . 

134  ;  poetry,  ii.  194 
Missionary  labours  of.   i.    133,    136. 

172  seqq.  ;  defect  of.  i.  179.  196 
Norse  harryings  of,  i.    133-4 ;  inter- 
course with.  i.  152  «.' 
Oxford  University,  at.  ii.  387 
Irnerius.    ii.    121,  260.   380-1  ;    Stimma 

codicis  of,  ii.  255-9 
Irrationality  (See  also  Miracles) : 

Neo-Platonic  teaching  as  to.  i.  43-4. 

48.  52 

Patristic  doctrine  as  to.  i.  51-3 
Isabella,  Queen,  wife  of  Edward  II.,  i. 

55°-i 

Isidore,  Abp.  of  Seville,  estimate  of. 
L  89,  103,  118  w.1;  Bede  com- 
pared with,  i.  185-7  ;  False  Decrttaii 
attributed  to,  i.  1 18  n.1 ;  ii.  270.  273  ; 
works  of,  i.  104-9  '•  Etymohgiae,  tu 
Etymologies  of  Isidore  ;  Origines.  L 
236,  300  ;  otherwise  mentioned,  i.  6, 
88  ;  ii.  46,  312 

Italian  people  in  relation  to  the  antique, 
i.  7-8 

Italy    (For  particular  districts,    towns, 

etc.,  see  their  names)  : 
Celtic  inroads  into  (30!  cent.  B.C.),  i. 

24 

Church  in,  secularization  of.  i.  472 
Cities  in  : 

Continuity  of,  through  dark  ages,  i. 
248,  494-5;  ii.  381 

Fighting  amongst,  i.  497-8 

Importance  of,  i.  241,  326.  494  5 
Continuity  of  culture  and  character  in. 

i.  326.  495  :  "•  120-2 
Dante  as  influenced  by.  ii.  534-5 
Education   in— lay,   persistence  of.   i. 

249-51  ;    clerical    and    monastic,    i. 

250  «.2 

Eleventh-century  conditions  in.  i.  327 

Feudalism  not  widely  fixed  in,  L  241 

Feuds  in.  i.  515-16 

Grammar  as  studied  in.  i.  250  andn.*  ; 
ii.  129 

Irish  monasteries  founded  in.  i.  174 

Literature  of,  mediaeval,  lack  of  ori- 
ginality in,  ii.  189  ;  eleventh-century 
verse,  i.  251  seqq.  ;  ii.  165  it.1.  186 

Lombard  kingdom  of  (6th  cent.),  i. 
115-16 

Medicine  studied  in,  i.   250  and  n.*, 

251  ;  ii.  I2i 

Unification  of,,  under  Rome.  i.  23 

Jacobus  a  Voragine.  Legtnda  aurta  by. 

ii.  184 
Jacques    de   Vitry,    Bp.    and   Card,    of 

Tusculum,  i.  461  andn.;   Exemfla 

of.  i.  488  i». ,  490 


THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


Jerome,  St.,  estimate  of,  i.  344,  354; 
letter  of,  on  asceticism,  i.  335  and 
n.1 ;  love  of  the  classics,  ii.  107, 
112,  531  ;  modification  by,  of  clas- 
sical Latin,  ii.  152,  171  ;  two  styles 
of,  ii.  171  and  n.4  •  Life  of  Paulus 
by,  i.  84,  86  ;  Life  of  Hilarion,  i. 
86 ;  Contra  Vigilantium,  i.  86  ; 
otherwise  mentioned,  i.  56,  75,  76, 
104 

Jerome  of  Ascoli  ( Pope  Nicholas  IV. ),  ii. 
491 

Jews  : 

Agobard's  tracts  against,  i.   232-3 
Gregory  the  Great's  attitude  toward, 

i.  102 

Louis  IX. 's  attitude  toward,  i.  545 
Persecution  of,  i.  118,  332 

Joachim,  Abbot  of  Flora,  Evangelicum 
eternum  of,  502  «. ,  510,  y.2-1^, 

517 

John,  Bro. ,  of  Vicenza,  i.  503-4 

John  X.,  Pope,  i.  242 

John  XI. ,  Pope,  i.  242 

John  XII.,  Pope,  i.  243  ;  ii.  l6o-I 

John  XIII.,  Pope,  i.  282 

John  XXII.,  Pope,  Decrctales  extra- 
•uagantes  of,  ii.  272 

John  of  Damascus,  ii.  439  n.1 

John  of  Fidanza,  see  Bonaventura 

John  of  Parma,  Minister-General  of 
Franciscans,  i.  507,  508,  5IO-II 

John  of  Salisbury,  estimate  of,  ii.  118, 
373-4 ;  Chartres  studies  described 
by,  ii.  130-2  ;  attitude  of,  to  the 
classics,  ii.  114,  164,  173,  531  ; 
Latin  style  of,  ii,  173-4  ;  Polycrati- 
cus,  ii.  114-15,  174-5  ;  Metalogicus, 
ii.  173-4  ;  Entheticus,  ii.  192  ;  De 
septem  septenis,  ii.  375 

John  the  Deacon,  Chronicon  Venetum 
by,  i.  325-6 

Joinville,  Sire  de,  Histories  of  St.  Louis 

by,  i-  539-  542-9 
Jordanes,  compend  of  Gothic  history  by, 

i.  94 

Jordanes  of  Osnabriick  cited,  ii.  276  «.- 
Joseph  of  Exeter,  ii.  225  ».2 
Jotsaldus,  Life  of  Odilo  by,  i.  295-6 
Judaism,  emotional  elements  in,  i.  331-2 
Julianus,  Epitome  of,  ii.  242,  249,  254 
Jumieges  cloister,  ii.  201 
Jurisprudence  (See  also  Roman  law)  : 
Irnerius  an  exponent  of,  ii.  256,  259 
Mediaeval  renaissance  of,  ii.  265 
Roman    law,    in,    beginnings   of,    ii. 

232 
Justinian,  Codex,  Institutes,  Novellae  of, 

see  under  Roman  law  ;    Digest  of, 

see  Roman  law — Pandects 
Jutes,  i.  140 
Jutta,  i.  447 


Keating  quoted,  i.  136 
Kilwardby,   Richard,    Abp.    of  Canter- 
bury,   De  ortu  et   divisions  philo- 
sophiae  of,  ii.  313 
Kilwardby,  Robert,  ii.  128 
Knighthood,  order  of: 

Admission  to,  persons  eligible  for,  i. 

527 

Code  of,  i.  524 
Hospitallers,  i.  531 
Investiture  ceremony,  i.  525-8 
Love  the  service  of,  i.  568,  573 
Templars,  i.  531-5 
Virtues     and    ideals    of,    i.     529-31, 

567-8 
Knowledge  : 

Cogitation,  meditation,  contemplation 

(Hugo's  scheme),  ii.  358  seqq. 
Forms  and   modes  of,   Aquinas  on — 
divine,   ii.   451-5  ;   angelic,   ii.   459- 
62  ;  human,  ii.  463  seqq. 
Grades  of,  Aquinas  on,  ii.  461,  467 
Primacy  of,  over  will  maintained  by 
Aquinas,  ii.  440-1 

La  Ferte'  Monastery,  i.  362 

Lambert  of  Hersfeld,  Annals  of,  i.  313  ; 

ii.  167 
Lambertus  Audomarensis,  Liber  Flori- 

dus  of,  ii.  316  w.2 

Lancelot  of  the  Lake,  i.  567,  569-70, 
582-5 ;  Old  French  prose  version 
of,  i.  583  seqq. 

Land  tenure,  feudal,  i.  523-4 
Lanfranc,      Primate     of     England,      i. 

174  n.1,  261  n. ,  273 
Langue  a"oc,  ii.  222,  248 
Langue  d'oil,  ii.  222,  248 
Languedoc,    chivalric   society  of    (nth 

and  1 2th  centuries),  i.  572 
Latin  classics  : 

Abaelard's  reference  to,  ii.  353 
Alexandrian  antecedents  of  the  verse, 

ii.  152  n.1 
Artificial   character   of  the   prose,   ii. 

151  n. 

Breadth  of  interest  of,  ii.  109 
Characteristics  of,  ii.  153 
Chartres  a  home  of,  i.  298  ;  ii.  119 
Common  elements  in,  ii.  149,  157 
Dante's  attitude  toward,  ii.  541,  544  ; 

his  quotations  from,  ii.  543  w.1 
Ecclesiastical  attitude  toward,  i.  260  ; 

ii.  no  seqq. ,  396-7 
Familiarity  with,  of  Damiani,  i.  260 ; 
ii.  165  ;  Gerbert,  i.  287-8  ;  ii.  no  ; 
John  of  Salisbury,  ii.  114,  164,  173. 
531 ;  Bernard  of  Chartres,  ii.  132-3  ; 
Peter  of  Blois,  ii.  133-4  ;  Hildebert, 
ii.  141-2,  146,  531 

Knowledge-storehouses  for  the  Middle 
Ages,  as,  ii.  108 


INDEX 


577 


Latin  classics  (cont. ) : 

Mastery    of,    complete,    as    affecting 

mediaeval  writings,  ii.  164 
Reverential    attitude    of    mediae vals 

toward,  ii.  107-9 
Scripture  study  as   aided  by  study  of, 

ii.  no,  112,  120 
Suggestions   of   new    ideas   from,    for 

Northern  peoples,  ii.  136 
Themes   of,  in  vernacular  poetry,  ii. 

223  seqq. 

Twelfth-century  study  of,  ii.  117-18 
Latin  Fathers  (See  also  their  names  and 

Patristic  thought) : 
Comparison  of,  with  Greek,  i.  68 
Style  and  diction  of,  ii.  150,  152  seqq. 
Symbolism  in,  ii.  43-6 
Transmutation  by,  of  Greek  thought, 

i.  5,  34  and  n. 
Latin  language : 

Britain,  position  in,  i.  10,  32 
Children's  letters  in,  ii.  123  ». 
Christianity    as    modifying,     ii.     152, 

154,  156,  164,  171 
Continuity  of,  preserved  by  universal 

study  of  grammar,   ii.    122-3,    I5I> 

iSS 
"  Cornificiani "  in  regard  to,  ii.  132, 

373 

Educational  medium  as,  ii.  109 

Genius  of,  susceptible  of  change,  ii. 
149 

German  acquisition  of,  i.  10,  32,  307-8, 
313;  ii.  123,  155 

Grammar  of,  see  Grammar 

Mediaeval  modifications  in,  ii.  125, 
164 

Patristic  modifications  of,  ii.  150, 
152  seqq.  \  Jerome's,  ii,  152,  171 

Spelling  of,  mediaeval,  i.  219 

Sphere  of,  ii.  219-20 

Supremacy  of  (during  Roman  con- 
quest period),  i.  4,  23-4  and  n.1, 

25.  30-1 

Translations  from,    scanty  nature  of, 

ii.  331  «.2 
Translations   into,    difficulties   of,    ii. 

498 
Universality  of,  as  language  of  scholars, 

ii.  219,  331  n.2 

Vernacular,  developments  of,  ii.  151 
Vitality  of,   in  relation  to  vernacular 

tongues,  ii.  219 
Latin  prose,  mediaeval  : 
Antecedents  of,  ii.  151  seqq. 
Best  period  of,  ii.  167-8 
Bulk  of,  ii.  157  n. 
Carolingian,  ii.  158-60 
Characteristics  of,  ii.  156 
Estimation  of,   difficulties  of,  ii.    157 

and  n. 
Influences  upon,  summary  of,  ii.  156 

VOL.  II 


Latin  prose,  mediaeval  (cont. ) : 

Prolixity    and    inconsequence  of.    u. 

154 

Range  of,  ii.  154 
Simplicity    of     word  -  order     in,    it 

163  *.» 

Stages  of  development  of,  ii.  157  uqq. 
Style  in,  beginnings  of,  ii.  164 
Stylelessness  of,  in  Carolingian  period. 

ii.  158-60 

Thirteenth-century  styles,  ii.  179 
Value  of,  as  expressing  the  mediaeval 

mind,  ii.  156,  164 
Latin  verse,  mediaeval : 

Accentual  and  rhyming  compositions. 

ii.  194  ;  two  kinds  of,  ii.  196 
Antecedents  of,  ii.  187  n.1 
Carmina    Burana  (Goliardic    poetry). 

ii.  203,  217-19  and  n. 
Development  of,  stages  in,  ii.  187 
Leonine  hexameters,  ii.  199  and  n* 
Metrical   composition,   ii.    187  seqq.  ; 
elegiac    verse,   ii.    190-2    and  n. '  ; 
hexameters,   ii.   192 ;    Sapphics,  ii. 
192-3  and  n.1 
Modi,  ii.  215-16 

Rhyme,  development  of  ii.  195.  206 
Law : 

Barbarian,     Latin    codes  of,   ii.    344 

seqq. 
Barbaric     conception     of,     ii.     245. 

248-9 

Breviarium,  see  under  Roman  law 
Canon,  see  Canon  law 
English,  principles  of,  i.  141-2 
Grammar  in  relation  to,  ii.  lai 
Lombard  codes,  i.  115 ;  ii.  242,  246. 

248,  253  ;  Concordia,  ii.  259 
Natural : 

Gratian  on,  ii.  268-9 

Jus  gentium  in  relation  to,  ii.  234 

and  n. ,  268 
Occam  on,  ii.  519 
Sacraments  of,  ii.  74  and  n. ' 
Supremacy  of,  ii.  269,  279 
Roman,  see  Roman  law 
Salic,  ii.  245-6 

Territorial  basis  of,  i.  123  ;  ii.  247 
Tribal  basis  of,  i.  123  ;  ii.  845-7 
Visigothic  codification  of,  in  Spain,  i. 

»8 

Leander,  Bp.  of  Seville,  i.  118  n.1 
L£gonais.  Chretien,  ii.  230  and  ».* 
Leo,   Brother.  Speculum  perfections  by. 

ii.  183-4 

Leo  I.  (the  Great).  Pope.  i.  113.  116 
Leo  IX.,  Pope,  i.  243 
Leon,  Sir  Guy  de,  i.  552-3 
Leon,  Sir  Herv<*  de.  i.  552-3 
Leowigild,  i.  1x7  ».*.  118  ».' 
Lerins  monastery,  i.  195 
Lewis.  Lord,  of  Spain,  i.  552-3 
2   P 


578 


THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


Liberal  arts,  see  Seven  Liberal  Arts 
Liutgard  of  Tongern,  i.  463-5 
Liutprand,  Bp.  of  Cremona  i.  256-7  ;  ii. 

161  n.1 

Liutprand,  King  of  Lombards,  i.  115-16 
Logic  (See  also  Dialectic) : 

Albertus  Magnus  on,  ii.  313-15,  504, 

506 
Aristotelian,    mediaeval    apprehension 

of,    ii.    329    (See    also    Aristotle — 

Organon ) 

Bacon's  attitude  toward,  ii.  505 
Gerbert's  preoccupation  with,  i.  282, 

289,  292 
Grammar  in  relation  to,  ii.  127  seqq. , 

333-4  ;  in  Abaelard's  work,  ii.  346 
Importance  of,  in  Middle  Ages,  i.  236; 

ii.  297 
Nature  of,  ii.  333  ;  schoolmen's  views 

on,  ii.  313-15,  333 
Occam's  views  on,  ii.  522 
Patristic  attitude  toward,  i.  71 
Raban's  view  of,  i.  222 
Scholastic  classification  of,  ii.  313  seqq. 
Scholastic  decay  in  relation  to,  ii.  523 
Second    stage  of   mediaeval  develop- 
ment represented  by,  ii.  332-4 
Specialisation  of,  in  I2th  cent.,  ii.  119 
Theology  in  relation  to,  ii.  340  n. , 

346 

Twofold  interpretation  of,  ii.  333 
Universals,  problem  of,  ii.  339  seqq.  ; 

Abaelard's    treatment    of,    ii.    342, 

348 

Lombard,  Peter,  estimate  of,  ii.  370 ; 
Gratian  compared  with,  ii.  270 ; 
Bacon's  attitude  toward,  ii.  497 ; 
Books  of  Sentences  by,  i.  17,  18  ; 
ii.  134,  370  ;  method  of  the  work, 
ii.  306 ;  Aquinas'  Summa  con- 
trasted with  it,  ii.  307-10 ;  its 
classification  scheme,  ii.  322-4 ; 
Bonaventura's  commentary  on  it, 
ii.  408 

Lombards  : 

Italian    kingdom    of    (6th    cent),     i. 

115-16 

Italian  influence  on,  i.  7,  249 
Law  codes  of,  see  under  Law 

Louis  of  Bavaria,  Emp. ,  ii.  518 

Louis  I.  (the  Pious),  King  of  France,  i. 
233,  239,  359 ;  false  capitularies 
ascribed  to,  ii.  270 

Louis  VI.  (the  Fat),  King  of  France,  i. 
304-5,  394,  400 ;  ii.  62 ;  Hilde- 
bert's  letter  on  encroachments  of, 
ii.  140,  172 

Louis  IX.  (the  Saint),  King  of  France, 
Geoffrey's  Vita  of,  i.  539-42  ;  Join- 
ville's  Histoire  of,  i.  542-9  ;  Testa- 
ment of,  i.  540  n. 1 ;  otherwise  men- 
tioned, i.  476,  507-9,  515 


Love,  Aquinas  on  distinguishing  defini- 
tions of,  ii.  475-6 
Love,  chivalric  : 

Antique  conception  of  love  contrasted 

with,  i.  575 
Chansons  de  geste  as  concerned  with, 

i-  564 
Code  of,  by  Andrew  the  Chaplain,  i. 

575-6 

Dante's  exposition  of,  ii.  555-6 
Estimate  of,  mediaeval,  i.  568,  570 
Literature  of,  see  Chivalry — Literature 
Marriage  in  relation  to,  i.  571  and  n.z 
Minnelieder  as  depicting,  ii.  30 
Nature  of,  i.  572-5,  582-7 
Stories  exemplifying — Tristan,  i.  577 

seqq.  ;  Lancelot,  582  seqq. 
Love,  spiritual : 

Aquinas'  discussion  of,  ii.  472-3,  476 
Bernard  of  Clairvaux  as  exemplifying, 

i.  394  seqq. 
Lupus,  Servatus,  Abbot  of  Ferrieres,  i. 

215  ;  ii.  113 
Luxeuil,  i.  175-7 
Lyons : 

Diet  of  the  "Three  Gauls  "  at,  i.  30 
Law  studies  at,  ii.  250 

Macrobius,    Saturnalia  of,  ii.    116  and 

n* 

Magic,  i.  46-8  ;  ii.  500  and  n.1 
Majolus,  Abbot  of  Cluny,  i.  359 
Manichaeism,  i.  49  ;  ii.  44,  283 
Manny,  Sir  Walter,  i.  552-4 
Mapes  (Map),  Walter,  i.   475,   567;  ii. 

219  n. 
Marie,  Countess,  de  Champagne,  i.  566, 

573-  576 
Marie   de    France,    i.    566,    567,    573 ; 

Eliduc  by,  i.  571  «.2 
Marinus  (hermit),  i.  373 
Marozia,  i.  242 
Marriage  : 

Christian     attitude     toward,     ii.     8 ; 
ecclesiastical  view,  ii.  529 

Feudalism  as  affecting,  i.  571,  586 

German  view  of,  ii.  30 
Marsilius  of  Padua,  ii.  277  «.2 
Martin,  St. ,  of  Tours,  i.   334 ;  Life  of, 

i.  52  and  n.,  84,  85  n.z,  86 
Martyrs  : 

Mediaeval  view  of,  i.  483 

Patristic  attitude  toward,  i.  86 
Mary,  St.,  of  Ognies,  i.  462-3 ;  nature 

of  visions  of,  i.  459 
Massilia,  i.  26 
Mathematics  : 

Bacon's  views  on,  ii.  499-500 

Gerbert's  proficiency  in,  i.  282,  288 
Mathew  Paris  cited,  ii.  487 
Matthew  of  Vendome,  Ars  versificatoria 
by,  ii.  190  and  n.5 


INDEX 


579 


Maurus,  Rabanus,  see  Rabanus 

Mayors  of  the  palace,  i.  240 

Mechthild  of  Magdeburg,  i.  20,  345  ;  ii. 

365  ;  Book  of,  i.  465  and  «.2  -70 
Mediaeval  thought : 
Abstractions,  genius  for,  ii,  280 
Characteristics  of,  i.  13 
Commentaries  characteristic  of,  ii.  390, 

553  *-4 

Conflict  inherent  in,  i.  22  ;  ii.  293-4 
Deference  of,   toward  the  past,  i.  13  ; 

»•  534 

Emotionalizing  by,  of  patristic  Christi- 
anity, i.  345 
Metalogics  rather  than  metaphysics  the 

final  stage  of,  ii.  337 
Moulding   forces   of,   i.   3,   5,    ia ;  ii. 

293-4 

Orthodox  character  of,  ii.  283  and  n. 

Political  theorizing,  ii.  275  seqq. 

Problems  of,  origins  of,  ii.  294-5 

Restatement  and  rearrangement  of 
antique  matter  the  work  of,  i.  13- 
15,  224.  237,  292,  342;  ii.  297, 
329.  34i  : 

Culmination  of  third  stage  in,  ii. 

394 
Emotional  transformations  of  the 

antique,  i.  18  seqq. 
Intellectual  transformations  of  the 

antique,  i.  14  seqq. 
Salvation  the  main  interest  of,  i.  58-9, 

334  ;  ii.  296-7,  300 
Scholasticism,  see  that  heading 
Superstitions  accepted  by,  i.  487 
Symbolism  the  great  influence   in,  ii. 

43,  102,  365 

Three  stages  of,  ii.  329  seqq. 
Ultimate   intellectual   interests   of,   ii. 

287  seqq. 
Medicine : 

Relics  used  in,  i.  299 

Smattering  of,  included  in  Arts  course, 

ii.  250 

Study  of — in  Italy,  i.  250  and  n.*,  2511 
ii.  383  «. ;  at  Chartres,  i.  299  ;  ii. 

372 
Mendicant  Orders,   see   Dominican   and 

Franciscan 
Merovingian  Kingdom  : 

Character  of,  i.  208 

Church  under,  i.  194 

Extent  of,  i.  210  «.3 

German  conquests  of,  i.  121,  138 
Merovingian  period  : 

Barbarism  of,  i.  9 

Continuity  of,    with    Carolingian,    i. 

2IO-I2 

King's  law  in,  ii.  247 
Merovingians,  estimate  of,  i.  195 
Metaphor  distinguished  from  allegory,  ii. 
41  n.  (See  also  Symbolism) 


Metaphysics : 

Final  stage  of  mediaeval  development 

represented  by,  ii.  335-7 
Logic,  mediaeval,  in  relation  to,  ii.  334 
Theology  dissociated  from,  by  Duns, 

ii.  510,  516.  517 
Michelangelo  quoted,  ii.  113 
Middle      Ages    (See      alu     Mediaeval 

thought) : 
Beginning  of,  i.  6 
Extremes  characteristic  of,  i.  355 
Milan,  lawyers  in,  ii.  251  «.* 
Miles,    signification   of  word,    i.    525-6 

and  «.* 

Minnelieder,  ii.  28-31 
Minorites,    i.  430  (See   also    Franciscan 

Order) 

Miracles  (See  also  Irrationality) : 
Devil,  concerned  with,  i.  488  seqq. 
Nostre  Dame,  Miracles  de,  i.  491-3 
Patristic  attitude  toward,  i.  85-6,  100, 

182 
Roman  Empire  aided  by,  belief  as  to, 

»•  536 

Salimbene's  instance  of,  i.  516 
Universal  acceptance  of,  i.  74,  182 
Vitae   sanctorum   in    regard    to,  i.  85 

and  n.z 

Mithraism,  i.  49 
Modena  (Mutina),  i.  24 
Modi,  ii.  215-16 
Monasteries  : 

Immunities  granted  to,  i.  523  and  n. 
Regula  of,  meaning  of,  ii.  62 
Monasticism  (For  particular  Monasteries, 

Orders,  etc. ,  see  their  names) : 
Abuses  of,  i.  357-8  ;  Rigaud's  Registet 

quoted,  i.  477-481 
Benedictine  rule : 

Adoption  of — in  England,    i.    184  ; 
among  the  Franks,   i.  199,  201  ; 
generally,  i.  358 
Papal  approval  of,  i.  335 
Cassiodorus  a  pioneer  in  literary  func- 
tions of,  i.  94 
General  mediaeval  view  regarding,   i. 

472;  ii.  529 
Ideal  v.  actual,  i.  355 
Ireland,  in,  i.  135  «.' 
Lament  over  deprivations  of,  ii.  218-19 
Modifications  of,  by  St.  Francis,  i.  366 
Motives  of,  i.  357 
Nature  of,  i.  336-7 
Nuns,  see  Women — monastic  life 
Origin  of,  i.  335 

Pagan  literature  condemned  by,  L  260 
Popularity  of,  in  5th  and  6th  centuries, 

i.  195-6 
Poverty — of  monks,  i.  365  ;  of  Orders, 

i.  366.  425,  430 
Reforms  of.  i.  358  seqq. 
Schools,  monastic,  in  Italy,  i.  250  ». 


58o 


THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


Monasticism  (cont. ) : 

Sex-relations  as  regarded  by,  i.  338 
Studies  of,  in  6th  cent. ,  i.  94,  95 
Subordinate   monasteries,    supervision 

of,  i.  361 

Uncloistered,  see  Dominican  and  Fran- 
ciscan 

Vita  activa  accepted  by,  i.  363-6 
Vita  contemplativa ,  see  that  title 
Women  vilified  by  devotees  of,  i.  354 

n.,  521  «-2.  S32-  533:  »•  58 
Montanists,  332 

Monte  Cassino,  i.  250  n.2.  252-3 
Montfort,  Countess  of,  i.  552-4 
Moorish  conquest  of  Spain,  i.  9,  118 
Morimond  monastery,  i.  362 
Mosaics,  i.  345-7 
Music  : 

Arithmetic  in  relation  to,  ii.  291 

Chartres  studies  in,  i.  299 

Poetry  and,  interaction  of,  ii.  195-6  ; 
2OI-2 

Scholastic  classification  of,  ii.  313 
Mysticism  : 

Hugo's  strain  of,  ii.  361-3 

Nature  of,  i.  443  n.  1 ;  ii.  363  and  n.  -4 

Symbolism    as   expressing,    see    Sym- 
bolism 

Narbo,  i.  26 

Narbonensis,  see  Provincia 
Narbonne,  law  studies  at,  ii.  250 
Natural  history  and  science,  see  Physical 

science 

Nemorarius,  Jordanus,  ii.  501 
Neo-Platonism  : 

Arabian  versions  of  Aristotle  touched 

with,  ii.  389 

Augustinian,  i.  55  '•  "•  4°3 
Christianity    compared    with,    i.    51  ; 
Patristic  habit  of  mind  compared, 
ii.  295 

Ecstasy  as  regarded  by,  i.  331 
Metaphysics  so  named  by,  ii.  336 
Pseudo-Dionysian,  i.  54  and  n.1 
Tenets    and    nature    of,    i.    41-9 ;    a 
mediatorial  system,  i.  50,  54,  57-8, 
70 

Trinity  of,  ii.  355 
Neustria,  i.  200,  209,  239 
Nibelungenlied,    i.    145-6,    148-9,    152, 

193,  203  n.2 ;  ii.  220 
Nicholas  II.,  Pope,  i.  243  n.z 
Nicholas  III.,  Pope,  i.  504 
Nicholas  IV.,  Pope  (Jerome  of  Ascoli), 

ii.  491 
Nicholas,  St. ,  sequence  for  festival  of,  ii. 

213-15 

Nicolas  of  Damascus,  ii.  427 
Nilus,  St.,  Abbot  of  Crypta-Ferrata,  i. 

374  n. 
Nithard,  Count,  i.  234-5 


Nominalism,  i.  303 

Norbert,  ii.  344 

Normandy,  Norse  occupation  of,  i.  153 

Norsemen  (Scandinavians,  Vikings)  : 
Characteristics  of,  i.  138,  154-5 
Continental  and  insular  holdings  of,  i. 

153 

Eddie  poems  of,  i.  154-5  and  n.3 
Irish    harassed    by,    i.    133-4 ;    later 

relations,  i.  152  n.3 
Jumieges  cloister  sacked  by,  ii.  201 
Metal- working  among,  i.  152  n.s 
Ravages  by,  in  8th  and  gth  centuries, 

••  IS2-3 

Sagas  of,  i.  155  seqq. 
Settling  down  of,  i.  240 
Notker,  i.  308-9  and  n.1  ;  sequences  of, 

ii.  201-2 

Numbers,  symbolic  phantasies  regarding, 
i.  72  and  nn.  J>  2  ;  ii.  49  n.3 

Oberon,  fairy  king,  i.  564  and  n. 
Occam,   William  of,  career  of,  ii.   518  ; 

estimate   of   his    work,    ii.    522-3  ; 

attitude  toward  Duns,  ii.  518  seqq.  ; 

on    faith   and  reason,    ii.    519 ;    on 

Universals,  ii.  520-1 
Odilo,   Abbot  of  Cluny,   i.   294-5,  359  '• 

Jotsaldus'  biography  of,   quoted,  i. 

295-6 
Odo,   Abbot  of  Cluny,   i.    343  and  n.3, 

359  ;    Epitome    by,     of    Gregory's 

Moralia,  i.  16  n.*  ;  ii.  161  and  «.2  ; 

Latin  style  of  Collationes,  ii.  161-2 
Odo  of  Tournai,  ii.  340  n. 
Odoacer,  i.  114,  145 
Olaf,  St.,  i.  156,  l6p-I 
Olaf  Tryggvason,  King,  i.  156,  i6l-2 
Old  French : 

Formation  of,  ii.  155 
Latin  as  studied  by  speakers  of,  ii.  123 
Poetry,  ii.  222,  225  seqq. 
Ontology,  see  Metaphysics 
Ordeal,  trial  by,  i.  232-3  and  n.1 
Ordericus  Vitalis,   i  525  ;    Historia   ec- 

clesiastica  by,  ii.  176-8 
Organon,  see  under  Aristotle 
Origen,  estimate  of,  i.  51,  62-3;  on 

Canticles,  i.  333 ;  ii.  369  ;  De  frin- 

cipiis,  i.  68  ;  otherwise  mentioned, 

i-  53.  76.  8°.  87.  i°4.  411  I   "•  *>4 
Orleans  School : 

Classical  studies  at,  ii.  119  «.*,  127 

Law  studies  at,  ii.  250 

Rivalry  of,  with  Chartres,  ii.  rig  n.2 
Orosius,  i.  %2  and  n.1  188 
Ostrogoths,  i.  7,  113,  114-15,  120 
Otfrid  the  Frank,  i.  203-4,  3°8 
Other  world  : 

Irish  beliefs  as  to,  i.  131  and  «.2 

Voyages  to,  mediaeval  narratives  of 
i.  444  n.1 


INDEX 


581 


Othloh,  i.  315 ;  visions  of.  i.  443  ;  Book 

concerning  the    Temptations    of  a 

certain  Monk,  i.  316-23 
Otric,  i.  289-91 
Otto   I.    (the   Great),    Emp.,   i.  241-3. 

256-7.  3°9 

Otto  II.,  Emp.,  i.  243,  282-3,  289 
Otto    III.,    Emp.,    i.    243,    283,    284; 

Modus  Ottinc  in  honour  of,  ii.  215- 

216 
Otto  IV.  (of  Brunswick),  Emp.,  i.  417; 

»•  32-3 

Otwin,  Bp.  of  Hildesheim,  i.  312 
Ovid,  Ars  amatoria  of,  i.  574-5  ;  mediae- 
val allegorizing  of,  and  of  Metamor- 
phoses, ii.  230 
Oxford  University  : 

Characteristics  of,  ii.  388-9 
Curriculum  at,  ii.  387-8 
Foundation  of,  ii.  380,  386-7 
Franciscan  fame  at,  ii.  400 
Greek  studies  at,  ii.  120,  391,  487 

Palladius,  Bp. ,  i.  172 
Pandects,  see  under  Roman  law 
Papacy  (See  also  Church  and  Popes) : 
Ascendancy  of,  over  prelacy,  i.  304 
Character  of,  ii.  32 
Denunciations  against,  i.  475  ;  ii.  34-5, 

218 
Empire's  relations  with : 

Concordat  of  Worms,  i.  245  «. 4 
Conflict  (nth  cent.),  i.  244;  (i2th 
cent.),  i.  245  «.4  ;  ii.  273;  (i3th 
cent.),  ii.  33,  34-5  ;  (i4th  cent.), 
ii.  518  ;  allegory  as  a  weapon  in, 
ii.  60 

Recognition  of  ecclesiastical  author- 
ity, ii.  265-7,  272-3 
Reforms  by  Otto  I. ,  i.  243 
Gregory  VII. 's  claims  for,  i.  245;  ii. 

274 
Mendicant  Orders'  relations  with,  ii. 

398.  509 

Nepotism  of,  i.  504-5,  511 
Schisms  of  popes  and  anti-popes,  i.  264 
Temporal  power  of,  rise  of,   i.    116; 
claims  advanced,   i.   245 ;  realized, 
ii.  274,  276-7 
Papinian  cited,  ii.  235 
Paraclete  oratory : 

Abaelard  at,  ii.  10,  344 
Heloi'se  at,  ii.  10  seqq. 
Paradise : 

Dante's  Paradiso,  see  under  Dante 
Hildegard's  visions  of,  i.  455-6 
Paris: 
Schools : 

Growth  of,  ii.  380 
Notre  Dame  and  St.  Genevieve,  ii. 

383 
St.  Victor,  ii.  61-3,  143.  383 


Paris  (cont. ) : 
University  : 

Aristotle  prohibited  at,  ii.  391-2 
Authorities  on,  ii.  381  «. 
Bacon  at,  ii.  488 
Bonaventura  at,  ii.  403 
Curriculum  at,  ii.  387-8 
Dominicans  and  Franciscans  at,  ii. 

399 
Prominence   of,  in  philosophy  and 

theology,  ii.  283,  378-9. 
Rise,  constitution,  and  struggles  of, 

ii.  119-20,  383-6 
Viking  sieges  of,  i.  1 53 
Parma,  i.  497,  505-6 
Parzival : 

Chretien's  version  of,  i.  567,  588-9 
Wolfram's  version  of,  i.  I2«.,  571  ».f, 

589  613  ;    ii.  29 

Paschal  controversy,  see  Eucharistic 
Paschasius,  Radbertus,  Abbot  of  Corbie 

i.  215,  225-7 
Patrick,  St.,  i.  172-3 
Patristic  thought  and  doctrine  (See  also 
Greek  thought,  patristic,  and  Latin 
Fathers) : 

Abaelard's  attitude  toward,  ii.  305 
Achievement  of  exponents  of,  i.  86-7 
Bacon's  attitude  toward,  ii.  492 
Completeness   of  schemes    presented 

by.  ii.  394 

Emotion  as  synthesized  by,  i.  340-2 
Intellectual  rather  than  emotional,  i. 
343-4 ;  emotionalizing  of,  by  mediae- 
val thinkers,  i.  345 
Latin  medium  of,  i.  5 
Logic  as  regarded  by,  i.  71 
Mediaeval  attitude  toward,  i.  16 
Miracle  accepted  by,  i.  51-3,  85-6 
Natural  knowledge  as  treated  by,   i. 
61  seqq.,  72-3,  76-7,  99 :  »•  393 
Pagan     philosophy    permeating     ex- 
ponents of,  i.  33-4.  58,  61 
Philosophy  as  classified  by,  ii.  312 
Rearrangement    of,     undertaken     in 

Carolingian  period,  i.  224,  237 
Symbolism  of,  see  under  Symbolism 
Paulinus  of  Aquileia,  i.  215 
Paulinus,  St.,  of  Nola,  i.  86,  126  *.* 
Paulus  —  on  jus,  ii.  237  :  Sentential  of, 

ii.  243 

Paulus,  St..  i.  84,  86 
Paulus  Diaconus,  i.  214-15,  252 
Pavia,  law  school  at,  ii.  251,  259 
Pedro,  Don.  of  Castille,  i.  554-5 
Pelagians,  i.  225 
Pelagius,  i.  172  n. 
Peripatetic    School,    i.    38-9    (Set  also 

Aristotle) 

Peter.  Bra.  of  Apulia,  i.  512-14 
Peter,  disciple  of  St.  Francis,  L  426 
Peter  Damiani,  see  Damiani 


582 


THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


Peter  of  Blois,  ii.  133-4 

Peter  of  Ebulo,  ii.  190 

Peter  of  Maharncuria,  ii.  502-4 

Peter  of  Pisa.  i.  214 

Peter  the  Venerable,   Abbot  of  Cluny,  i. 

360  ;  letter  of,  to  HeloTse,  ii.  25-7 
Petrarch,  ii.  188,  219 
Petrus  Riga,  Aurora  of,  ii.  127 
Philip  VI.,  King  of  France,  i.  551 
Philip   Augustus,    King   of    France,    ii. 

33 
Philip   Hohenstauffeu,   Duke  of  Suabia, 

i.  481  ;  ii.  32,  33 
Philo,  i.    37,    231  ;    allegorizing  of,  ii. 

42.  364 
Philosophy  : 

Division  of,  schemes  of,  ii.  312  seqq. 

End  of : 

Abaelard's   and    Hugo's   views  on, 

ii.  352,  361 

John  of  Salisbury  on,  ii.  375 
Philosophy,  antique : 

Divine  source  of,  Bacon's  view  as  to, 
ii.  507  n.z 

"First"  (Aristotelian),  ii.  335 

Position  of,  in  Roman  Empire  (3rd- 
6th  cent.),  i.  34  (See  also  Greek 
thought) 

Philosophy,  Arabian,  ii.  389-90,  400-1 
Philosophy,  scholastic  : 

Completeness  of,  in  Aquinas,  ii.  395 

Divisions  of,  ii.  312  seqq. 

Importance  of,  as  intellectual  interest, 
ii.  287-8 

Physical  sciences  included  in,  see  Phy- 
sical science 

Theology  as  the  end  of  (Abaelard's 
and  Hugo's  view),  ii.  352,  361 

Theology  distinguished  from,  ii.  284, 
288  ;  by  Aquinas,  ii.  290,  311  ;  by 
Bonaventura,  ii.  410  and  n.  ;  con- 
sidered as  superior  to,  by  Aquinas, 
ii.  289-90,  292 ;  dominated  by 
(Bacon's  contention),  ii.  496  ;  dis- 
sociated from,  by  Duns  and  Occam, 
ii.  510,  517,  519 
Physical  science  : 

Albertus  Magnus'  attitude  toward,  ii. 
423  ;  his  works  on,  ii.  425-9 

Bacon's  predilection  for,  ii.  486-7 

Classifications  of,  ii.  312  seqq. 

Experimental  science  or  method,  ii. 
502-8 

Mediaeval  attitude  toward,  i.  300 

Oxford  school  of,  ii.  389 

Patristic  attitude  toward,  i.  63,  66-7, 
72-3,  76-7,  99  ;  ii.  393 

Theology  as  subserved  by,  ii.  ffj,  in, 

289,    486,     492,     496,    500,    530; 

denial  of  the  theory — by  Duns,   ii. 

510  ;  by  Occam,  ii.  519-20 

Physiologus,  i.  76-7  and  n. ,  300  ;  ii.  83 


Pippin  of  Heristal,  i.  208-9  •  "•  X97 

Pippin  of  Neustria,  i.  115,  2OO,  209. 
210  and  n.1  •  ii.  273 

Pippin,  son  of  Charlemagne,  ii.  197 

Placentia  (Piacenza),  i.  24 

Placentinus,  ii.  261-2 

Plato,  supra-rationalism  of,  i.  42 ; 
allegorizing  by,  i.  36  ;  ii.  364  ; 
doctrine  of  ideas,  i.  35,  ;  ii.  339- 
340  ;  Aquinas  on  this  doctrine,  ii. 
455'  465  !  Augustine  of  Hippo  as 
influenced  by,  ii.  403  ;  "salvation  " 
suggestion  in,  ii.  296  n.~  ;  Republic, 
i.  36 ;  Timaeus,  i.  35-6,  291  ; 
ii.  64,  69,  118,  348,  370,  372, 

377 

Platonism  : 

Alanus'  Anticlaudianus,  in,  ii.  100  «.2 
Augustinian,  i.  55 
Nature  of,  i.  35-6,  57,  59 
Philosophy  as  classified  by,  ii.  312 
Pliny  the  Elder,  Historia  naturalis  by, 

i.  39-40.  75 

Plotinus,  estimate  of,  i.  43,  45 ; 
personal  affinity  of  Augustine  with, 
i-  55~7«  I  philosophic  system  of,  i. 
42-6,  50,  51  ;  Enneads  of,  i.  55  ; 
otherwise  mentioned,  i.  50,  51  ; 
ii.  64 

Plutarch,  i.  44 
Poetry,  mediaeval : 

Carmina    Burana    (Goliardic    poetry), 

ii.  203,  217-19  and  n. 
Chivalric,  see  Chivalry — Literature 
Hymns,  see  that  heading 
Italian,  of  nth  cent.,  i.  251  seqq.  ; 

ii.  1 86 

Latin,  see  Latin  verse 
Modi,  ii.  215-16 
Music  and,   interaction  of,   ii.    195-6, 

2OI-2 

Old  High  German,  ii.  194 
Popular  verse,  see  sub -headings   Car- 
mina and  Modi ;  also  Vernacular 
Prosody,  Alexander  de  Villa-Dei  on, 

ii.  126 
Vernacular : 

Germanic,  Norse,  and  Anglo-Saxon, 

ii.  220- 1 

Romance,  ii.  221-3,  225  X99~ 
Pontigny  monastery,  i.  362 
Poor   of    Lyons    (Waldenses),    i.     364, 

365  n.  ;  ii.  34 

Popes   (See  also  Papacy  ;    and  for  par- 
ticular popes  see  their  names)  : 
Avignon,  at,  ii.  510 
Decretals  of,  see  under  Canon  law 
Degradation  of  (loth  cent.),  i.  242 
Election  of,  freed  from  lay  control,  i. 

243  «.* 

Popular  rights,  growth  of,  in  izth 
cent.,  i.  305 


INDEX 


Porphyry,   i.  42.  44-7,    50.   51,    56;  ii. 
295  I    Is<Lgoge  ( Introduction  to  the 
Categories  of  Aristotle),  i.  45,  92, 
102  ;  ii.  312,  314  a,  333,  339 
Preaching  Friars,  see  Dominican  Order 
Predestination,  Got tsc balk's  controversy 

as  to,  i.  224-5,  227-8 
Priscianus,    i.    71;     ii.     119   ».* ;    /*- 
stitutiones  grammatical   of    (Pris- 
cianus major  and  minor),  ii.  124-5 
Prosper  of  Aquitaine,  i.  106  n.1 
Provencal    literature,    i.    571  ;    ii.    168  ; 
Alba  (aube)  poetry,  i.  20,  571  ;  ii. 

3° 

Frovincia  (Narbonensis)  : 
Antique,  the,    in   relation    to,    before 

Middle  Ages,  i.  9 
Latinization  of,  i.  26-7  and  n.1 
Ligurian  inhabitants  of,  i.  126 
Teutonic  invasion  of,  i.  125 
Prudentius,   ii.   63  ;  Psychomachia  of,  ii. 

102-4 

Pseudo-Callisthenes,   Life  and  Deeds  of 
Alexander    by,   ii.    224,    225,   229- 
230 
Pseudo  -  Dionysius,     ii.   302  ;     Celestial 

Hierarchy  by,  i.  54  and  n.1 
Pseudo-Turpin,  ii.  319 
Ptolemy  of  Alexandria,  i.  40 
Purgatory  : 

Dante's  Purgatorio,  see  under  Dante 
Hildegard's  visions  as  to,  i.  456  n. 
Popular  belief  as  to,  i.  486 

Quadrivium,  see  under  Seven  Liberal 
Arts 

Rabanus  Maurus,  Abp.  of  Mainz, 
allegorizing  of  Scripture  by,  ii. 
46-7  ;  interest  in  the  vernacular,  i. 
308 ;  works  of,  i.  222-4 ;  &e 
universe,  i.  300 ;  ii.  316  ».a ; 
Allegoriae  in  universam  sacrum 
scripturam,  ii.  48-9 ;  De  laudibus 
sanctae  crucis,  ii.  49  n.3  ;  otherwise 
mentioned,  i.  16,  100,  215  ;  ii.  302- 
303,  312,  332 

Race,  tests  for  determining,  i.  124  ». 

Radbertus,  see  Paschasius 

Raoul  de  Cambrai,  i.  563-4 

Ratherius,  i.  309  and  n.2 

Ra-.ramnus  of  Corbie,  i.  215,  227 ;  ii. 
199 

Ravenna  : 

Gerbert's  disputation  in,  i.  289-91 
Grammar  and  rhetoric  studies  at,  ii. 

121 

Law  studies  at,  ii.  251,  252 
S.  Apollinaris  in  Classe,  i.  373.  377 
Raymond  of  Agiles  quoted,  i.  536 
Realism,    Duns'   exposition    of,    ii.   514 
and  n. 


Reason  v.  authority  controversy : 
Berengar's  position  in,  i.  303-3 
Eriugena's  contribution  to,  i.  339-30 

Reccared,  i.   118  nn. 

Reinhard,  Bp.  of  Halberstadt,  ii.  62 

Relics  of  saints  and  martyrs  : 
Arms  enshrining,  i.  538 
Curative  use  of,  i.  299 
Patristic  attitude  toward,  L  86.  101  ». 

Renaissance,  misleading  nature  of  term, 
i.  six  n. 

Renaud  de  Montaubon,  i.  564 

Rheims  cathedral  school,  i.  393 

Rhetoric : 

Chartres  study  of,  i.  298 
Hugo  of  St.  Victor  on,  ii.  67 
Predominance  of,  L  109  and  n. 

Richard,  Abbot  of  Jumieges.  i.  480-1 

Richard  of  Middleton,  ii.  512 

Richard  of  St  Victor,  ii.  80,  87  and*.*, 

367  n-4.  54° 

Richer,  Abbot  of  Monte  Cassino,  i.  353, 
300   «.a ;     history   of  Gerbert   by, 
quoted,  i.  287-91 
Ricimer,  Count,  i.  113 
Riddles,  didactic,  i.  218-19  and  n.1 
Rigaud,  Eude  (Oddo  Rigaldus),  Abp.  of 
Rouen,  i.  476,  508,  509  ;    Register 
of,  quoted,  i.  476-81 
Robert,  cousin  of  St.  Bernard,  L  395-7 
Robert  of  Normandy,  ii.  139 
Rollo,  Duke,  of  Normandy,  i.  153,  339-40 
Roman   de    la   rose,  i.  586-7;     ii.    103 

and  nn.,  104,  223 
Roman  de  Thebes,  ii.  227,  229  n. 
Roman  Empire : 

Barbarization  of,  i.  5,  7,  III  seqq 
Billeting  of  soldiers,  custom  as  to,  i. 

114  *.,  117 

Christianity  accepted  by,  i.  345 
Church,  relations  with,  ii.  265-7,  372-3 
Cities  enjoying  citizenship  of — in  Spain, 

i.  26  and  n.'- ;  in  Gaul,  i.  30 
City  life  of,  i.  27,  326 
Clientage  system  under,  i.  117  «.* 
Dante's  views  on,  ii.  536 
Decadence  of.  i.  84.  97'  HI 
Eastern,  see  Eastern  Empire 
Enduring  nature  of.  conditions  of.  i. 

338*. 

Greek  thought  diffused  by,  i.  4 
Italian  people  under,  i.  7 
Jurisconsults  of,  authority  and  capacity 

of,  ii.  233-3  and  n. ,  236 
Latinization  of  Western  Europe  due 

to,  i.  23  seqq. ,  1 10 
Mediaeval  attitude  toward.  I  if 
Scandinavians   under   influence  of.  i. 

152  *.* 
Roman  law  : 
Auditory.  Imperial   or   Praetorian,  ii. 

233*-.  a35  "-1 


584 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


Roman  law  (con/. ) : 

Bologna  famed  for  study  of,  ii.  121, 

251.  259-62,  378 
Brachylogus,  ii.  254-5 
Breviarium   and   its   Interpretatio,  i. 
117 ;     ii.   243-4 ;     Epitomes    of,  ii. 
244,  249-50 ;  Brachylogus  influenced 
by,  ii.  254 
Burgundian  tolerance  of,  i.  121  ;  code 

(Papianus),  ii.  239,  242 
Church  under,  ii.  265  and  «.2 
Codes  of : 

Barbaric,  nature  of,  ii.  244  (See  also 
sub-headings  Breviarium  and  Bur- 
gundian) 

Gregorianus',  ii.  240,  243 
Hermogenianus',  ii.  240,  243 
Nature  of,  ii.  239-40 
Theodosian,  ii.  240  and  «.2,  241  n.z, 

242-3,  249,  266-7  afld  n.1 
Codex  of  Justinian,  ii.  240,  242,  253 : 
Azo's  and  Accursius'  work  on,  ii. 

263-4 

Glosses  to,  ii.  249-50 
Placentinus'  Summa  of,  ii.  262 
Summa  Perusina  an  epitome  of,  ii. 

249,  252 
Constitutions  and  rescriptaprincipum, 

ii.  235  and  n.1,  239,  240 
Custom  recognized  by,  ii.  236 
Digest  of,  by  Justinian,  see  sub -heading 

Pandects 

Elementary  education  including  smat- 
tering of,  ii.  250 

Epitomes  of,  various,  ii.  249-50  ;  Epi- 
tome  of  Julianus,     ii.     242,    249, 
254 
Glosses : 

Accursius'      Glossa     ordinaria,     ii. 

263-4 

Irnerius',  ii.  261  and  n.1 
Justinian's  Codex,  to,  ii.  249-50 
Gothic  adoption  of,  i.  114 
Institutes  of  Gaius,  ii.  241,  243 
Institutes  of  Justinian,   ii.  241,  243, 

254  = 

Azo's  Summa  of,  ii.  263 

Placentinus'  Summa  of,   ii.  262 
Jurisprudential  element  in  early  stages 

of,  ii.  232 

Jus  identified  with  aequitas,  ii.  235 
Jus  civile,  ii.  237,  257 
Jus  gentium : 

Jus  naturale  in  relation  to,  ii.  234 
and  n. 

Origin  of,  ii.  233-4 

Popular  rights  as  regarded  by,  ii. 

278 

Jus  praetorium,  ii.  235 
Lex  romana  canonice  compta,  ii.  252 
Lombard  attitude  toward,  i.  115 
Novellae  of  Justinian,  ii.  240,  242 


Roman  law  (cont. ) : 

Pandects   (Justinian's  Digest),  ii.  235 
and  n.2,  236-8,  241-2,  248,  253, 

255: 

Accursius'  Glossa  on,  ii.  264 

Glossators1  interpretation  of,  ii.  265 
Permanence  of,  ii.  236 
Petrus  (Petri  exceptions},  ii.  252-4 
Placentinus'  work  in,  ii.  261-2 
Principles  of,  examples  of,  ii.  237-8  ; 

possession  and  its  rights,  ii.  256-8 
Principles  of  interpretation  of,  ii.  256 
Provincia,  in,  i.  27  n.1 
Responsa  or  auctori  tasjuri sprudentium , 

ii.  235-6 

Sources  of,  multifarious,  ii.  235 
Sphere  of,  ii.  248 
Study  of,    centres  for — in  France,   ii. 

250 ;  in  Italy,   ii.  121,  251  and  xz, 

259-62,  378 

Summa  codicis  /merit,  ii.  255 
Theodosian  Code,  see  under  subheading 

Codes 

Treatises  on,  mediaeval,  ii.  252  seqq. 
Twelve  Tables,  ii.  232,  236  • 
Visigothic     code    of,    see    subheading 

Breviarium 

Romance,  spirit  of,  i.  418 
Romance  languages  (See  also  Old  French): 
Characteristics  of,  ii.  152 
Dante's  attitude  toward,  ii.  537 
Latin  as  modified  by,  ii.  155 
Literature  of,  ii.  221-3  (^ee  a^so  fro" 

venpal  literature) 
Strength  of,  i.  9 
Romance  nations,  mediatorial  rdle  of,  i. 

IIO-II.    124 

Romans  d'aventure,  i.  564-5.  571  n.z 
Rome  : 

Bishops  of,  see  Popes 
Factions  in  (loth  cent.),  i.  242 
Law  School  in,  ii.  251,  255 
Mosaics  in,  i.  347 
Verses  to,  i  348  ;  ii.  2OO 
Romualdus,  St. ,  youth  of,  i.  373 ;  austeri- 
ties of,  i.   374,  379,  381  ;  relations 
with  his  father,  i.  374-5  ;  harshness 
and  egotism  of,  i.  375-7  ;  at  Vails 
de  Castro,  i.  376-7,  380 ;  at  Sytrio,  i. 
378-9;  death  of,   i.  372   n.3,   380; 
Commentary  of,  on  the  Psalter,  i.  379 
Romulus  Augustulus,  Emp. ,  i.  114 
Roncesvalles,  battle  of,  i.  559  n.z  -62 
Roscellinus,  i.  303-4  ;  ii.  339-40 
Rothari,   King  of  Lombards,  i.  115  ;  ii. 

2S1 

Ruadhan,  St.,  i.  132-3 
Ruotger,  Life  of  Abp.  Bruno  by,  i.  310; 

ii.  162  and  n.1 

Sacra  doctrina,  see  Theology 
Sacraments,  see  under  Church 


INDEX 


5«5 


Sagas,  Norse : 

Character  of,  i.  12  «.,  155  seqq. 
Egil,  \.  162-4 
Gisli,  i.  158 

Heimskringla,  i.  160-2  and  «.a 
Njala,  i.  157  andn.,  159,  164-7 
Oral  tradition  of,  ii  220 
St.  Denis  monastery,  ii.  10,  344 
St.  Emmeram  convent  (Ratisbon),  i.  315, 

316 
St.  Gall  monastery,   i.   257-8  ;    Notker's 

work  at,  ii.  201-2 
St.  Victor  monastery  and  school,  ii.  61-3, 

143  ;  ii.  383 
Saints : 

Austerities  of,  i.  374  and  n. ,  375 
Interventions  of,  mediaeval  beliefs  as 

to,  i.  487-8,  490 
Irish  clergy  so  called,  i.  135  ».8 
Lives  of : 

Compendof  (Legenda  Aurea),  ii.  184 
Conventionalized  descriptions  in,  i. 

393  f-1 

Defects  of,  i.  494 
Estimate  of,  i.  84-5  and  nn. 
otherwise  mentioned,  i.  298,  300 
Relics  of,  see  Relics 
Visions  of,  i.  444-5 
Worship  of,  i.  101 
Salerno  medical  school,  i.  250  n.4,  251  ; 

ii.  i2i 

Salian  Franks,  see  under  Franks 
Salimbene,   i.  496-7,  499-500  ;  Chronica 
of,  quoted  and  cited,   i.   498  seqq.  ; 
editions  and  translations  of  the  work, 
i.  496  n. 

Salvation,  see  under  Christianity 
Salvian,  De  gubernatione  Dei  by,  i.  84 
Saracens : 

Crusades  against,  see  Crusades 

Fran kish  victories  against,  i.  209-10  «.' 

Wars     with,     necessitating     mounted 

warriors,  i.  525 
otherwise  mentioned,  i.  239,  252,  274, 

332 

Saxons,  see  Anglo-Saxons  and  Germans 

Scandinavians,  see  Norsemen 

Scholasticism  : 

Arab  analogy  with,  ii.  390  and  «.2 
Aristotle's  advanced  works,   stages  of 

appropriation  of,  ii.  393-5 
Bacon's  attack  on,  ii.  484,  493-4.  496, 

5°9 
Classification  of  topics  by  : 

Schemes  of,  various,  ii.  312  seqq. 

Twofold  principle  of,  ii.  311 
Conceptualism,  ii.  520-1 
Content  of,  i.  301 
Deference  to  authority  a  characteristic 

of,  ii.  297,  300 
Disintegration  of — through    Duns,   ii. 

510,  516;  through  Occam,  ii.  522-3 


Scholasticism  (cont.)  : 

Elementary  nature  of  discussions  of. 

»•  347 

Evil,  problem  of.  set  Evil 
Exponents  of,  ii.  383  and  n. 
Final  exposition  of,  by  Aquinas,  ii.  484 
Greek  thought  contrasted  with,  ii.  296 
Humour  non-existent  in,  ii.  459 
Method  of.   ii.   302.   306-7.   315  n. ; 

prototype  of,  i.  95 
Nominalism,  ii.  340 
Philosophy  of,  tee  Philosophy, 

scholastic 
Phraseology  of,  untranslatable,  ii.  348, 

483 

Praedicables,  ii.  314  n. 
Present  interest  of.  ii.  285 
Realism,  ii.  340 ;  Pantheism  in  relation 

to,  ii.  370 
Salvation  a  main  interest  of,  ii.  296-7, 

300,  311 
Scriptural   authority,    position  of,    ii. 

289,  291-2 
Secular  studies  as  regarded  by,  ii.  349, 

357 

Stages  of  development  of,  ii.  333  teya. 
Sympathetic  study  of,  the  key  to  con- 
tradictions, ii.  371 
Theology  of,  see  Theology 
Universal*,  problem  of : 
Aquinas'  treatment  of,  ii.  462 
Duns'  treatment  of,  ii.  515 
Occam's    contribution    toward,    ii. 

520-1 

Roscellin's  views  on,  i.  303-4 
Sciences,   classifications  of,  ii.   312  seqq. 

(See  also  Physical  science) 
Scotland,  Christianizing  of.  i.  173 
Scriptures,  Christian  : 
Allegorizing  of : 
Examples  of: 
David  and  Bathsheba  episode,  ii. 

44-6 

Exodus,  Book  of,  ii.  47 
Good  Samaritan  parable,  ii.  53-6. 

84.  90 

Hannah,  story  of.  ii.  47  ».' 
Pharisee  and    Publican    parable, 

ii.  51-2 
Hugo  of  St.   Victor's   view  of,   ii. 

65  n. 

Writers  exemplifying— Philo.  ii.  42- 
43  ;  the  Fathers,  ii.  43  seqq.,  68- 
9  and  n.'* ;  Rabnnus.  ii.  46-50  ; 
Bede.  ii.  47  i.1 ;  Honorius  of 
Autun,  ii.  51  stqq. ;  Hugo  of  St. 
Victor,  ii.  67  seqq. 

Anglo-Saxon  version  of.  i.  142  B.1,  183 

Authority  of — in  patristic  doctrine,  ii. 

295 ;    acknowledged   by   Eriugena. 

i.    231  ;    by  Berengar.   i.    303 ;    in 

scholasticism,  ii.  289,  291-2 


586 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


Scriptures,  Christian  (cont.)  : 

Bacon's  attitude  toward,  ii.  491-2,  497 
Bonaventura's    attitude    toward,    and 

writings  on,  ii.  405  seqq. 
Canon  law  based  on,  ii.  267-9 
Classical  studies  in  relation  to,  see  sub- 
heading Secular 
Classification  of  topics  based  on,   ii. 

317-  324 
Commentaries  on — Alcuin's,  i.  220-1  ; 

Raban's,  i.  222-3 
Duns'  attitude  toward,  ii.  516 
Francis  of  Assisi's  literal   acceptance 

of,  i.  365,  426-7 ;  his  realization  of 

spirit  of,  i.  427  n.1 ;  ii.  183 
Gothic  version  of,  i.  143  n. 
Heliand,  i.  203  and  nn. ,  308 
Hymns  based  on,  ii.  88  seqq. 
Interpretation   of — by  the  Fathers,  i. 

43  seqq.,  68-9  and n? ;  by  Eriugena, 

i.  231  ;  by  Berengar,  i.  303 
Isidore's  writings  on,  i.  104-5 
Love,  human,  as  treated  in  OldTesta- 

ment,  i.  332-3 

Scenes  from,  in  Gothic  art,  ii.  82  seqq. 
Secular  knowledge  in  relation  to,  i.  63, 

66;  ii.  110,  112,  120,  499 
Song  of  Songs,  see  Canticles 
Study  of,  by  monks,  i.  94  ;  Cassiodo- 

rus'  Institutiones,  i.  95-6 
Theology  identified  with,  ii.  406,  408 
Vulgate,  the : 

Corruption  in  Paris  copy  of,  ii.  497 

Language  of,  ii.  171 
Sculpture,  Gothic : 

Cathedrals,  evolution  of,  ii.  538-9 
Symbolism  of,  i.  457  n.2  ;  ii.  82-6 
Sedulius  Scotus,  i.  215 
Seneca,  i.  26,  41 
Sentences,  Books  of: 

Isidore's,  i.  io6a«rf«.1 
Paulus'  Sententiae,  ii.  243 
Peter  Lombard's,  see  under  Lombard 
Prosper 's,  i.  106  n.1 
Sequence-hymns,  development  of,  ii.  196, 

2OI-6;  Adam  of  St.  Victor's,  ii.  209- 

2iS 

Serenus,  Bp.  of  Marseilles,  i.  102 
Sermons,  allegorizing  : 

Bernard  of  Clairvaux,   by,  i.   337  n.  ; 

409-13  ;  ii.  169,  368-9 
Honorius  of  Autun,  by,  ii.  50  seqq. 
Seven    Liberal  Arts    (See    also  separate 

headings  Grammar,  Logic,  etc. ) : 
Alanus  de  Insulis  on  functions  of,  ii. 

98  n.1 

Carolingian  study  of,  i.  236 
Clerical  education  in,  i.  221-2 
Compend  of,  by  Cassiodorus,  i.  96 
De  nuptiis  as  concerned  with,  i.  71  ».3 
Hugo  of  St.  Victor  on  function  of,  ii. 

67,  in 


Seven  Liberal  Arts  (cont. ) : 
Latin  the  medium  for,  ii.  109 
Law  smattering  included  with,  ii.  250 
Quadrivium  : 

Boethius  on,  i.  90  and  n.z 
Chartres,  at,  i.  299 
Thierry's  encyclopaedia  of,  ii.  130 
Trivium : 

Chartres,  at,  i.  298-9  ;  ii.  163 
Courses  of,  as  representing  stages  of 
mediaeval   development,    ii.^331 
seqq. 

otherwise  mentioned,  5.  217  ;  ii.  553 
Severinus,  St.,  i.  192 
Severus,   Sulpicius,   i.    126  w.2;    Life  of 
St.  Martin  by,  i.  52,  84,  85  n.z,  86 
Sidonius,   Apollinaris,  i.  126  n.z ;   cited, 

i.  117  n.1,  140 

Siger  de  Brabant,  ii.  401  and  n. 
Sippe,  i,  122 

Smaragdus,  Abbot,  i.  215 
Socrates,  i.  34-5  ;  ii.  7 
Songs,  see  Poetry 
Sophists,  Greek,  i.  35 
Sorbon,  Robert  de,  i.  544-5 
Sorcery,  i.  46 
Spain  :, 

Antique,    the,    in   relation   to,    before 

Middle  Ages,  i.  9 
Arabian  philosophy  in,  ii.  390 
Church  in,  i.  9,  103,  118  and  n. 
Latinization  of,  i.  25-6  and  «.2 
Moorish  conquest  of,  i.  9,  118 
Visigoths  in,  i.  113,  116-17  and  n.2, 

118 

Stabat  Mater,  i.  348 
Statius,  ii.  229  «. 
Statius  Caecilius,  i.  25 
Stephen  IX.,  Pope,  i.  263 
Stephen,  St. ,  sequence  for  festival  of,  ii. 

211-13 

Stephen  of  Bourbon  quoted,  i.  365  «. 
Stilicho,  i.  112 
Stoicism  : 

Emotion  as  regarded  by,  i.  330 
Nature  of,  i.  41,  57,  59 
Neo-Platonism  contrasted  with,  0/296 
Philosophy  as  classified  by,  ii.  312 
Roman  law  as  affected  by,  ii.  232 
otherwise  mentioned,  i.  40,  70 
Strabo,  Walafrid,  see  Walafrid 
Suevi,  i.  116-17  ana'  n-2<  139 
Summae,  method  of,  ii.  306-7  (See  also 

under  Theology) 
Summum  bonum,  Aquinas'  discussion  of, 

ii.  438  seqq. ,  456 
Switzerland,    Irish  monasteries   founded 

in,  i.  174 

Sylvester  II.,  Pope  (Gerbert  of  Aurillac), 
career  of,  i.  281-4  ;  disputation  with 
Otric,  i.  289-91  ;  estimate  of,  i.  281, 
285-7  I  l°ve  °f tne  ^assies,  i.  287-8  ; 


INDEX 


5»7 


ii  no ;  Latin  style  of,  ii.  160 ; 
logical  studies  of,  ii.  333,  338,  339. 
345  ;  letters  of,  quoted,  i.  283-7  ; 
estimated,  i.  284-5  ;  editions  of  works 
of,  i.  280  n.  ;  Libcllus  de  rationali 
et  rations  uti,  i  292  n. ,  299 ; 
otherwise  mentioned,  i.  249 ;  ii. 

35 
Symbolism  : 

Alanus'    Antic laudianus   as   exempli- 
fying, ii.  94-103 
Angels  as  symbols,  ii.  457 
Art,  mediaeval,  inspired  by,  i.  21 
Augustine  and  Gregory  compared  as 

to,  i.  56-7 
Carolingian,  nature  and  examples  of, 

ii.  46-50 

Church  edifices,  of,  ii.  78-82 
Dante  permeated  with,  ii.  534,  552-5 
Greek,  nature  of,  ii.  56-7 
Hildegard's  visions,  in,  i.  456  seqq. 
Marriage  relationship,  in,  i.  413-14 
Mass,  of  the,  ii.  77-8 
Mediaeval   thought  deeply  impressed 

by.  ii-  43,  50  a.1,  102,  365 
Mysticism  in  relation  to,  ii.  364 
Neo- Platonic,  i.  52 
Ovid's  works  interpreted  by,  ii.  230 
Patristic,  i.  37,  43-6,  52,  53.  58.  80 
Platonic,  i.  36 

Raban's  addiction  to,  i.  223  and  ».2 
Signum  et  res  classification,  ii.  322-3 
Twelfth     century  —  in     Honorius     of 
Autun,  ii.  51  seqq.  ;  in  Hugo  of  St. 
Victor,  ii.  64  seqq. 
Universal  in  mental  processes,  ii.  41, 

S52  »• 
Universe    explained    by,    ii.     64,    66 

seqq. 

otherwise  mentioned,  i.  15,  22 
Sytrio,  Romualdus  at,  i.  378-9 

Tacitus,  i.  78  ;  ii.  134 

Tears,  grace  of,   i.   370-1  and  n.,  462, 

463 

Templars,  i.  531-5 

Tenth  century,  see  Carolingian  period 
Tertullian,  i.   5,  58,  87,  99,   171,  332, 
344,  354  n.  ;  ii.  152  ;  paradox  of, 
i.    51  ;    ii.    297 ;     Adversvs    Mar- 
done  m,  \.  68 
Teutons  (See  also  Anglo-Saxons,  Danes, 

Germans,  Norsemen) : 
Celts  compared  with,  i.  125 
Characteristics  of,  i.  138 
Christianizing  of : 

Manner  of,  i.    181-3,  196-7,   193 ; 

results  of,  i.  5,  170-1 
Motives  of  converts,  i.  193 
Customs  of,  i.  122,  139,  141.  523 
Law   of,   early,    tribal   nature  of,    ii. 
245-7 


Teutons  (ctml.)- 

Rdle  of,    in   mediaeval  evolution,    i. 

"5 
Roman  Empire  permeated  by,  i.  m 

seqq. 

Theodora,  i.  342 

Theodore,  Abp.  of  Canterbury,  i.  184 
Theodoric  of  Freiburg,  ii.  501  m. 
Tbeodoric  the  Ostrogoth,  i.  89.  91  ».*. 
93,    114-15.    120-1,    138,  249;   in 
legend,    i.     145-6;     Edict    of.    ii 
244*1. 

Theodosius  the  Great.   Emp..    i.    na; 
ii.   272  ;  Code  of,  ii.   340  and  *.«. 
241  n-.  242.  249.  266  7  and  n 
Theodulphus,    Bp.    of    Orleans,    i.    9, 

215  ;  Latin  diction  of,  ii.  160 
Theology,  scholastic : 

Abaelard's    treatises    on.    see    under 

Abaelard 
Aquinas'     Summa      of.      tee     under 

Aquinas 

Argumentative  nature  of,  ii.  292-3 
Augustinian  character  of,  ii.  403 
Course  of  study  in,  ii.  388 
Importance  of,  as  intellectual  interest. 

ii.  287-8 

Logic  in  relation  to.  ii.  340  n. ,  346 
Mysticism  of,  ii.  363-4 
Natural  sciences,  etc.,  as  handmaids 
to,  ii.  67,  in,  289.  486.  402.  496. 
500,  530  ;  denial  of  the  theory — by 
Duns,   ii.   510;  by  Occam,  ii.  519- 
520   (See   also    Physical    science — 
Patristic  attitude  toward) 
Paris  the  centre  for,  ii.  283.  379 
Philosophy  in    relation    to.   see  under 

Philosophy 
Practical,  not  speculative,  regarded  as. 

ii.  512,  515.  519 
Scientific   nature  of,   as   regarded  by 

Albertus,  ii.  291,  430 
Scripture  identified  with,  ii.  406.  408 
Summae  of — by  Alexander  of  Hales, 
ii.   399  ;   by  Bonaventura.  ii.  408 ; 
by  Albertus  Magnus,  ii.  430-1  ;  by 
Aquinas,  see  under  Aquinas 
Thirteenth-century   study  of.  ii.   118- 

120 

Theophrastus.  i.  38 
Theresa.  St. ,  i.  443  n. l 
Theurgic  practice,  i.  46-8 
Thierry,  Chancellor  of  Chartres.  ii  119. 
370-1  ;     Eptateuckan    of,     ii     130 
and  n. 
Thirteenth  century  : 

Intellectual  interests  of.   ultimate,  ii 

287 

Latin  prose  styles  of.  ii.  179 
Papal  position  in.  ii.  509 
Personalities  of  writers  emergent  in. 
ii.  436 


588 


THE   MEDIAEVAL  MIND 


Thirteenth  century  (cont. ) : 

Theology     and     dialectic     the     chief 

studies  of,  ii.  118-20 
Three  phenomena  marking,  ii.  378 
Thomas     a     Kempis,     De     imitatione 

Christi  by,  ii.  185 
Thomas  Aquinas,  see  Aquinas 
Thomas  of  Brittany,  Tristan    fragment 

by,  i.  582 

Thomas  of  (^antirapre\  ii.  428-9 
Thomas  of  Celano,  Life  of  St.   Francis 
by,  quoted,    i.  435,  436-8  ;  style  of 
the  work,  ii.  182-3 
Thucydides,  History  of  the  Peloponnesian 

War  by,  i.  77-8 
Thuringia : 

Boniface's  work  in,  i.  197-8 
Merovingian  rule  in,  i.  121 
Thuringians,  language  of,  i.  145  w.a 
Torriti,  i.  347 
Trance,  see  Ecstasy 
Treves,  i.  30,  31,  192 
Tristan  : 

Chretien's  version  of,  i.  567 
Gottfried  von  Strassburg's  version  of, 

i.  577-82 

Trivium,  see  under  Seven  Liberal  Arts 
Troubadours   (trouveres),   i.    572-3    and 

nn. 
Troy,  tales  of,  in  mediaeval  literature,  ii. 

200,  224-5  a^d  n.2,  227-9 
True  and   the  good  compared,   ii.    441, 

Si2 

Truth,  Guigo's  Meditationes  as  concern- 
ing, i.  385-6 
Twelfth  century  : 

Classical  studies  at  zenith  in,  ii.    117- 

118 

Growth  in,  various,  i.  305-6 
Intellectual  interests  of,    ultimate,    ii. 

287 

Literary  zenith  in,  ii.  168,  205-6 
Mobility  increased  during,  ii.  379 

Ulfilas,  i.  192  ;  ii.  221 
Ulpian — on  Jus  naturale  andjus  gentium, 
ii.  234  and  n.  ;  on  justitia,  jus  and 
jurisprudentia,  ii.  237 
Ulster  Cycle,   Sagas  of,  i.    128  and  n.2, 

129  seqq. 

Universals,  see  under  Scholasticism 
Universities,   mediaeval   (For  particular 

universities  see  their  names}  : 
Increase  in  (i4th  cent.),  ii.  523 
Rise  of,  ii.  379,  381  seqq. 
Studies  at,  ii.  388  and  n. 
Urban  II.,  Pope,  ii.  175 
Urban  IV.,  Pope,  ii.  391-2,  434 
Utrecht,  bishopric  of,  i.  197 

Vallombrosa,  i.  377 
Vandals,  i.  112,  113,  120 


Varro,  Terentius,  i.  39,  71,  78 

Vercingetorix,  i.  28 

Vernacular  poetry,  see  under  Poetry 

Verse,  see  Poetry 

Vikings,  see  Danes  and  Norsemen 

Vilgard,  i.  259-60 

Vincent  of  Beauvais,  Speculum  majus  of, 
ii.  82  and  n.2,  315-22 

Virgil,  Bernard  Silvestris'  Commentum 
on,  ii.  n6-i70«rf«.2  ;  Dante  in  rela- 
tion to,  ii.  535,  536,  539,  543 

Virgin  Mary  : 

Dante's    Paradise  as    concerning,    ii. 

SSI 
Hymns  to,  by  Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  ii. 

86-7,  92 
Interventions  of,   against  the  devil,  i. 

487.  490-2 
Mediaeval  attitude  toward,   i.   53,   54 

andn.z;  ii-  431.  551.  55^ 
Virtues  : 

Aquinas'  classification  of,  ii.  326-8 
Odilo's  Cardinales  disciplinae,  i.  295 
Virtues  and  vices,  poetic  treatment  of  —  by 

Alanus,  ii.    102  n.  ;    by  De  Lorris 

and  De  Meun,  ii.  103 
Visigoths  : 

Arianism  of,  i.  120 

Dacian  settlement  of,  i.  112 

Gaul,  Southern,  kingdom  in,  i.  7,  112, 

Il6  ;  Clovis'  conquest  of,  i.  121 
Roman  law  code  promulgated  by,  see 

Roman  law  —  Breviarium 
Spain,  in,  i.  9,  113,  116-17  ^^  n.2, 

118 
Visions  : 

Examples  of,  i.  444-6,  451,  452-9 
Monastic    atmosphere    in,   i.    184  and 


Nature  of,  i.  443, 

and  n. 
Vita  contemplativa  : 

Aquinas'  views  on,  ii.  443,  481-2 

Hildebert  on,  ii.  144-5 
Vitae  sanctorum,  see  Saints  —  Lives  of 

Walafrid  Strabo,  i.    100,  215  ;  ii.  332  ; 

Glossa  ordinaria  of,  i.  16,  221  n.2  ; 

ii.    46  ;     De  cultura    hortorum,    ii. 

188  «.2 

Waldenses,  i.  365  n.  ;  ii.  34 
Walter  of  Lille  (of  Chatillon),   Alexan- 

dreis  of,  ii.  192  and  n.3,  230  w.1 
Walther  von    der   Vogelweide,    political 

views  of,  ii.  33  ;  attitude  of,  toward 

Papacy,  ii.  34-6  ;  piety  and  crusad- 

ing zeal  of,  ii.    36  ;  melancholy,   ii. 

36-7  ;    Minnelieder  of,    ii.    29-31  ; 

Spriiche,  ii.    29,  32,   36  ;    Tagelied, 

ii.    30  ;    Unier  der  Linde,    ii.    30  ; 

otherwise   mentioned,   i.   475,   482, 

589  ;  ii.  223 


INDEX 


589 


Wergeld,  i.  122.  139  ;  ii.  246 
Will,  primacy  of,    over  intellect,  ii.  512, 

SIS 

William,  Abbot  of  Hirschau,  i.  315 
William  II.  (Rufus),  King  of  England, 

i.  273,  275 ;  ii.  138-9 
William  of  Apulia,  ii.  189  and  n.3 
William    of    Champeaux  —  worsted    by 

Abaelard,    ii.     342-3 ;     founds  St. 

Victor,     ii.     61,    143 ;     Hildebert's 

letter  to,  quoted,  ii.  143 
William   of  Qonches,    ii.    132 ;    studies 

and  works    of,  ii.    372-3 ;    Summa 

moralium  philosophorum,  ii.  134-5, 

373  and  w.2 

William  of  Malmsbury  cited,  i.  525 
William  of  Moerbeke,  ii.  391 
William  of  Occam,  see  Occam 
William  of  St.  Thierry,  ii.  300,  344 
Willibrord,  St.,  i.  197 
Winifried- Boniface.   St.,   i.   6,  197-200, 

308  ;  ii.  273 

Wisdom,  Aquinas  on,  ii.  481 
Witelo,  Perspectiva  by,  ii.  501  «. 
Witiza  of  Aquitaine,  i.  358-9 
Wolfram     von     Eschenbach,    ii.    223 ; 

Parsivalby,  i.  12  ». ,   149  n.1,  152, 

567,    571    n.2,    589-613;    ii.     36; 

estimate  of  the  work,  i.  588  ;  ii.  29 
Women : 

Emotion  regarding,  i.  349-50 
Emotional  Christ-love  experienced  by, 

i.  442.  459  seqq. 
Fabliaux'  tone  toward,  i.  521  «.z 


Women  (cont.) : 

German       prae  -  mediaeval      attitude 
toward,  i.   139,  150;  mediaeval,  ii. 

3» 

Monastic  life,  in  : 

Abuses  among,  i.  491-2;  Rigaud's 
Register  as  concerning,  i.  479- 
480 

Consecration  of,  i.  337  and  n. 

Gandersheim  nuns,  i.  311 

Visions  of,  i.  442  uqq. ,  463  tfff. 
Monkish    vilification    of,  i.    354    n. . 

521  ».».  532,  533;  ii.  58 
Romantic     literature     as     concerned 

with,  i.  564 
Romantic  poems  for  audiences  of.  i. 

565 
Walther   von  der  Vogelweide  on,  ii. 

3* 
Worms,      Concordat      of     (1123).      i. 

«45  *•* 
Xenophon's  Cyropaedia,  i.  78 

Year-books  (Annales),  \.  234  and  n.1 
Yves,    Bp.  of  Chartres,   i.   262  *.  ;    ii. 
139 

Zacharias,  Pope,  i.  199 
Zoology : 

Albertus  Magnus'  works  on,  ii.  429 

Aristotle's  work  in,  i.  38 

Pkyriologus,  \.  76-7  and  n. .  300 ;  ii. 
83 


THE  END 


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