Like most great artists, Johann Sebastian Bach created his immortal works amidst uncertain times and an unusual amount of philosophical and cultural upheaval. One could sense a perceptible shift away from theology as “queen of the sciences” towards the dominance of abstract reason and scientific methodology. James Gaines chronicles one particular episode in Bach’s life representative of this shift in his Evening in the Palace of Reason. Bach, the great Baroque composer, received an invitation to visit Frederick the Great of Prussia, the great Enlightment monarch. Their brief meeting led to Bach composing “A Musical Offering,” considered by some to be his greatest instrumental work, and a definitive statement of his theological and musical convictions.
Gaines’ book is serviceable, if unremarkable. It certainly is more accessible than other works on Bach I’ve attempted. On the other hand, Gaines’ background is in magazine editing, so as one might expect, the books lacks expertise and depth. Life presents us with many such trade-offs.
Reading the work did spur on a few thoughts and questions in my mind . . .
To best understand Bach and the shift in the sciences taking place during his life, Gaines briefly describes the cosmological beliefs Bach inherited from his contemporaries. Gaines has a difficult job with this material. On the one hand, his book seeks a more conventional and conversational tone and such information bogs down modern readers in a mass of unfamiliar material. But Gaines needs to cover the material to properly understand Bach. Unfortunately Gaines gives a dismissive rendering of the information, interspersed with parenthetical comments such as, “This will be over soon,” and “There will not a quiz on the forgoing.” Gaines seems to find the pre-modern scientific beliefs absurd and embarrassing, despite his frank admission that such beliefs had a direct connection to music of the period. As one contemporary of Bach commented, “. . . an individual is both inwardly and outwardly, spiritually and physically, a divinely created harmonic being,” (emphasis mine) reflecting the divine harmony of the cosmos itself.
Some regard Bach as perhaps the greatest composer Western civilization has produced. Everyone agrees that at bare minimum he’s one of the all-time greats. Is it possible then, that such great music could come from theological and scientific foundations (in Bach’s day these two naturally went together) utterly removed from the truth? Bad trees produce bad fruit, but the scientific tree of the Baroque era gave us something else entirely (for an extended look at the transition between Galileo and the past, please enjoy my friend Bill Carey’s post here).
Asking this question leads one into the deep waters of the nature of scientific truth, waters too deep for me. The real problem, I think, is that the modern view of truth (in science or elsewhere, but perhaps especially in science) has very little to do with poetry. Or to take a different approach, the scientific tree of the baroque period produced fantastic music, but less than able surgeons. Can science do both equally at once? This is a question science must answer.
With the transition to the Enlightenment, Bach’s music and convictions fell out of favor. People no longer sought complex harmony, they wanted more “pleasing” — and easier — melodies. The purpose of music and art shifted from lifting us up to the divine to meeting our needs here and now. This was not merely a matter of taste. These different ideas about music arose from a shift in cosmology and theology.
When we think of the solar system, we probably think in a horizontal rather than vertical fashion. We also likely think of each planet “doing it’s own thing” floating around in space. Space between planets is empty and cold. In the medieval conception of the universe the planets descended hierarchically, with the movement between the planets forming a glorious celestial harmony — the “music of the spheres” — which in turn reflected the eternal “perichoresis” (the Greek word used by early church fathers meaning “circle dance”) of the Trinity.
Whichever we prefer, we should note that modern and medieval choices in regard to the cosmos are theological and poetic in nature, not strictly scientific.
This theological and poetic shift impacted musical opinions of Bach’s later years. His critics believed that emphasizing harmony (as Bach did) made the music too difficult. What’s more, harmony itself was “artificial” and “unnatural.” Music should instead focus on singable, “natural” melodies, which we can “perform” as individuals.
Baroque harmony and counterpoint, then, came from a theological perspective that emphasized the importance of the trinitarian community, and scientific perspective that emphasized the “community” of planets. So we might only think of harmony as “artificial” if we believe that either
The spheres have no music, or
If they did, it would be irrelevant as it would not be part of our daily experience.
Of course the medievals believed both that the spheres make music, and that their motion had an impact, however indirect, on our lives. Thus, celestial harmony for them occupied a very real place in creation and could hardly be called artificial.
So once again we see the intersection of science, poetry and theology in musical theory, and we see the stark difference the Enlightenment brought to many aspects of our life and thought. The legion of trickle-down effects on poetry, music, church architecture and like are everywhere present.
This week we began looking at tort law and its relation to the democratic process and democratic values. As the year winds down and the seniors focus on their thesis presentations, I think this unit works well at dealing with some interesting concepts in a lighter and more relaxed classroom atmosphere.
Tort law deals with the realm of damages and liability in civil courts. No one goes to jail in tort law cases, but they can still generate a great deal of controversy. Many of us may have some familiarity with tort law through the famous (or infamous) McDonald’s “Hot Coffee” case from 1992, when 79 year old Stella Leibeck spilled coffee on herself and eventually had a jury award her about $175,000, though the actual settlement amount remains unknown.
The actual facts got lost in the hype surrounding the case, and the internet does a good job of giving us the story we may not be aware of. On the one hand, it seems ridiculous that McDonald’s should be responsible for a customer spilling coffee on themselves. But on the other hand. . . .
By company mandate, McDonald’s kept its coffee at around 185-190 degrees, about 50 degrees hotter than coffee is normally served. At this temperature, serious burns can result within 2-7 seconds on continued skin contact.
Over period of several years, McDonald’s had received several hundred complaints from customers stating that they had been burned by their coffee.
Mrs. Leibeck’s burns were extensive. She required a long hospital stay that involved skin grafts over a large area (the internet has pictures of the burns, and they are extensive).
The case ended up being the subject of a documentary, and spurred on debates surrounding tort reform in various law schools.
The multiple layers of issues make these cases intriguing.
Product Liability
If a product injures you, company liability depends on how you used the product. If you are mowing the lawn with your lawn-mower in a normal fashion and it blows up and injures you, the company has liability. If it blows up while you try and use the lawn-mower to chop down a tree, the company has no liability.
In this case, jurors believed that Mrs. Leibeck used the coffee as McDonald’s intended it to be used. Nothing strange or out of the ordinary happened.
Knowledge
If a product injured someone due to a flaw in the design and the company had no prior knowledge or suspicions, the company will have less liability than if they knew everything and covered it up. Of course all kinds of grey area exists in between these extremes. On the one hand, 700 complaints about burns is a large number. On the other hand, 700 complaints represents about .0001% of all the coffee they sold during that time. How we see the 700 previous complaints will be crucial for how we assess fault in the case.
Time
In a grocery store, if an employee drops a few bananas by mistake and five seconds later and breaks a hip, would the store be liable? Perhaps, but that liability would increase dramatically if it had been on the floor for an hour, with customers complaining about them, and the store doing nothing about it. We had a good discussion over whether or not the number of complaints over time increased or lessened McDonald’s liability.
If a court finds a company liable a jury assesses damages, which come in two forms.
Compensatory damages literally compensate the victim for whatever they lost. Some aspects of this kind of penalty are easy to assess, like doctor’s bills, time missed from work, and so on. Here the wealth of the person injured is not a factor. Just as we return stolen property from mansions, so a wealthy person deserves just compensation.
But very quickly compensatory damages enters murky waters. If one is physically scarred from an accident due to negligence, how much is that worth? Would it depend on where the scar was? Would we compensate a woman more for a scar than a man? What about emotional scars? What about lost opportunity? The subjective nature of these judgments can result in very different jury verdicts (Mrs. Mathwin has a friend who served on a jury in a liability case a few years ago. The jurors disagreed wildly, with some wanting to award the plaintiff a few hundred thousand and others nothing. Eventually they simply took the average of what each of the 12 jurors thought the plantiff should receive, and that dollar amount — about $25,000 — became their ruling).
Punitive damages punish the company for their wrongdoing, and should deter the company from acting in a similar fashion in the future. Here the wealth of the company does need to be a factor, for hypothetically if the company had enough resources, the fine might be so small that it would be more profitable for them to continue the negligent behavior. This is part of the reason why punitive damages can far exceed compensatory damages.
We live in a deeply confused age regarding sexuality and the body. We can understand Justice Potter Stewart’s “I know it when I see it,” concept regarding pornography in terms of necessary legalese, but especially in this day and age, Christians (and the world) need more specific guidance. How are we to understand how the body can be used in art?
I wish I had the time and theological understanding to devote to John Paul II monumental Man and Woman He Created Them, where he developed a full-fledged “theology of the body.” Though I read only very small portions of the text, those few parts have made a huge impression on me.
First, he makes the observation that nakedness is mentioned in a spousal connection, which means that nakedness is a kind of gift of one to the other — a revelation, in fact. For this can rightly be called a gift because it involves a kind of mutual possession of one another — “I am yours and you are mine.”
These ideas of possession and gift lead to another truth, that the body itself is a form of revelation. I had never realized this before, but of course it makes perfect sense. We talk often of how the beauty of flowers, or the variety of the birds, or the majesty of mountains, reveal something about God Himself. But we (or perhaps just I) forget that the body of course is part of that same creation that will reveal something of the Creator. And perhaps the body may reveal more than mountains or flowers, as He made humanity of all creation in His image.
These truths deserve more contemplation than I can give them. But I do think that John Paul’s wisdom can give us profound guidance on the nature of the body and how the body can or should be used in a “public” way. He writes,
Artistic objectification of the human body in its male and female nakedness for the sake of making of it first a model and then a subject of a work of art is always a certain transfer outside this configuration of interpersonal gift that belongs originally and specifically to the body. It constitutes in some way an uprooting of the human body from the configuration and a transfer of it to the dimensions of artistic objectification specific to the work of art or the reproduction typical of the works of film and photographic technologies of our time.
In each of these dimensions, and in each of them in a different way, the human body loses that deeply subjective meaning of the gift and becomes an object destined for the knowledge of many, by which those who look will assimilate or even take possession of something that evidently exists (or should exist) by its very essence on the level of gift–or gift by the person to the person, no longer of course in the image, but in the living man. To tell the truth, this act of “taking possession” happens already on another level, that is, on the level of artistic transfiguration or reproduction. It is, however, impossible not to realize that from the point of view of the ethos of the body, understood deeply, a problem arises here. It is a very delicate problem that has various levels of intensity depending on various motives and circumstances, both on the side of artistic activity and on the side of knowledge of the work of art or its reproduction. From the fact that this issue arises, it does not at all follow that that human body in its nakedness cannot be the subject of works of art, only that this issue is neither merely aesthetic, nor morally indifferent.
Towards the end of the Peloponnesian War Athens had to fight for its very life. Their catastrophic defeat in Sicily in 411 B.C. meant that their survival depended on maintaining their lifeline of supplies from allies in the eastern Aegean Sea. This meant in turn that Athens would have to win virtually every naval battle to stay afloat.
At the battle of Arginusae in 406 B.C. the Athenians got a decisive victory over the Spartan League. Athenian custom and religion dictated bringing home the bodies of the slain to give them proper burial. Unfortunately a storm arose in the aftermath of the victory, and in the ensuing confusion the Athenians retrieved just a fraction of their dead.
You might think that the Athenians would rejoice in the victory and shrug off the failure to retrieve the dead. After all, they might not have survived as a city-state had they lost. Instead, (due in part to a confluence of unusual circumstances described expertly by Donald Kagan in The Fall of the Athenian Empire) they put the eight victorious generals on trial for impiety and dereliction of duty. They found all eight guilty, and executed all eight that same day.
A few days later the Athenians lamented their actions and believed they had committed an injustice. Such an injustice needed rectified, so they put the prosecutor on trial for inciting them to murder. He was found guilty, and he too was put to death.
This unfortunate incident no doubt deeply impacted Socrates, and in turn Plato, and from there the whole attitude of western political thinkers toward democracy. In the modern era, ardent defenders of democracy like I.F. Stone argue that such ancient and early-modern critics cherry-picked their objections to democracy and took certain incidents out of proportion. I wonder, however, whether or not the above incident isn’t symptomatic of democracies in general, and if the essential critique offered by Plato and his followers might have merit.
I thought of the Battle of Arginusae when a friend sent me a fascinating graph of the speed of social change in America in the 20th century. With the Supreme Court hearing arguments on the constitutionality of gay marriage it seems appropriate to consider our history of seismic shifts [note to the reader–this post was written originally a couple of months before the courts made gay marriage the law of the land. We have seen since then how fast it has gained traction, and how quickly the marriage issue has spilled over into transgender issues. The speed of the change is all the more remarkable considering that in 2004 many states voted to try and prevent gay marriage from becoming law, and in 2008 President Obama supported what I believe he called “traditional marriage”].
Of course the ability to change quickly is in itself neither good or bad, as with speed we can adopt either good or bad courses of action. What we should consider, however, is what this means for us as a democracy, and where this puts us relative to other democracies at other times.
Change began to accelerate in the 20th century, and this coincides with two other shifts in American life. The first was the rise of the prominence of the U.S. internationally, and along with that the inevitable rise of executive power. With a few exceptions, the 19th century saw congressional dominance, the 20th executive dominance. No one president or party can be blamed for this, if blame is what you seek. As with Rome, the growth of power inevitably centralizes power. Add to that, the Constitution puts foreign policy mostly in the hands of the executive. The centralization of power in the executive makes change come more quickly, if for no other reason than efficiency.
But this in itself can’t explain the radical leaps noted above in the graph, because changes in Civil Rights and gay marriage have not come primarily from executives, but from the courts, which are supposed to be more immune to the whims of the people, be those whims good or bad.
We might also recall that De Tocqueville astutely predicted that modern democracies could create an unstoppable force when the idea of equality joined with the idea of majority power. This force, when mobilized, created magnificent massed armies (think Generals Sherman, and Patton). But this same power could apply to our social lives and our moral compass. Democracies, De Tocqueville argued, would not create tyrants in the traditional sense. They would leave the body alone. Rather, they can at times kill the soul through enormous and unseen social pressures. So just as our military efforts could go from nothing in December 1941 to significant victory in June of 1942 ( the Battle of Midway), so too we can move with the same speed and power socially. This power would be great enough to steamroll even the supposedly resistant-to-change court system.
But this won’t work entirely either, for it presumes that the courts were the last domino to fall during these seismic social changes, whereas with abortion, civil rights, and gay marriage, they have spearheaded change.*
With this realization we get pressed beyond typical right/left categories and our modern, narrow vision, beyond arguments about activist courts and the like. This should let us know that we may be nearing our prey.
I have two possible explanations to suggest:
The first deals with the fact the courts interpret the Constitution. While the founders no doubt positioned the courts as above the political process to make them slower, this very position in many ways allows them to move faster. They have no Congress to lobby. But I still think this fact leaves out part of the explanation. If the founders set up the Constitution to greatly reduce the power of mass democracy (and the fear of “mob rule” runs throughout the Constitutional Convention debates as recorded by Madison) then we might wonder whether or not we live under a different Constitution altogether. Of course the words remain the same, but how we interpret and stretch it (note how the commerce clause experienced this in the 20th century) changed over time. The founders hoped for the Senate to dominate our government. Now we have powerful courts, an extremely powerful executive, and an almost exclusively reactive legislature that asserts itself only when it stands in the way of what the executive wants to do
Thus, when the courts interpret the Constitution today, they in fact interpret a different constitution then the one the founders set up. That explains the significant and rapid social changes.
The second hypothesis . . .
I think that the Constitution sought to create a senatorial democratic-infused oligarchy based on the Roman Senate of old.** If true, at first glance we obviously have a different constitution than the founders envisioned. But a second glance might suggest that not a great deal has changed. If polling data that suggests most Americans are pro-life and not in favor of gay marriage is correct, then we still can say that an oligarchy rules us. This oligarchy no longer resides in the senate, however, but in other places, be it media, the courts, and so on. If correct, then at least some of the fundamental guiding principles of the Constitution have not changed, but how we apply them has.
Finally, we have the idea proposed by Christopher Ferrara in his thought provoking book Liberty: The God that Failed.Ferrara suggests that for Americans, the idea of liberty never had connections to tradition, religion, community, and so on but always stood for individuals defining themselves against them. Liberty means power, power to do as one wishes, whether that be to own slaves or change the definition of marriage. As to the good Americans have done (civil rights and racial equality, a relatively open immigration policy, etc.), one could argue that we often do these things irrespective of law, or stretch existing laws beyond recognition to justify them. Good laws, bad laws, traditions, all become very inconvenient and discarded in a pinch when we decide we want something else. Historically we have remarkable consistency on this score, whether Washington bypassed Pennsylvania’s laws on slavery, or Andrew Jackson ignored the Supreme Court against the Cherokees, or the modern explosion of executive orders from both parties, and so on, and so on. Washington the Federalist is supposed to be the conservative, while historians speak of the “Jacksonian Revolution.” But perhaps they had a lot more in common than we might suppose.
I still think the first possibility above the likeliest by a slight margin, but I waffle, and like many of us, I am confused, overwhelmed, and ultimately not quite sure what’s going on.
But those really in the know have another theory . . .
Dave
*Incidentally, one look at the graph shows that there must be a strong connection between women voting, prohibition, and equality. I think we can tie prohibition to the idea of equality in ways akin to laws about motorcycle helmets and seat-belts, i.e. we’ll all be safe and healthy together — instead of liberty (I’ll smoke and drink and ruin my life if I want to — it’s my life after all — and you can’t tell me otherwise).
**Before we pass judgment, consider that the Roman Republic must surely rank as one of the most successful governments of all time by most measurements. They had roughly 350 years of relatively problem-free yearly elections and created an empire rooted in concepts of law that last to this day. So strong were Rome’s institutions and ethos that they still held it together long into its “empire” phase, despite some ridiculously bad emperors along the way.
This week we looked at the motives and methods of chivalry in the medieval period. As a high ideal, medievals never really lived up to it, but such is the case with all high ideals. While they fell short of the standard they set for themselves, the ideal at least set the bar high and gave them something to aim at. Chivalry’s heart still beats faintly in much of the modern conception of manners, so all in all I think we can say it’s had a good run.
Chivalry has many origins, but one of them surely comes from the medieval Church’s practical realism. Man will not attain perfection. War will always be with us. But that did not mean that civilization could not seek to limit the effects of war. Limiting war’s collateral damage meant among other things, strict rules governing how and when people could fight.
To perhaps better understand we need only to imagine another kind of contest, like a basketball game. We know when the game is over, and we know who has won. We know this for more reasons than the score. Both sides have agreed on the rules beforehand. A clock tells you when time expires. Referees stand ready to enforce rules that help make the contest fair. No one likes losing, but when you lose according to the rules, you can accept it, and stop playing. The ‘war’ is over.
Suppose the final horn sounds, and team ‘A’ is ahead 50-48. But what if to score the last basket and pull ahead, the point guard of team ‘A’ punched a guy in the stomach to get a clear lane to the hoop? If noticed by the ref, the basket would not count. It’s not just the score that determines the winner.
Suppose now that the ref did not see the punch, and therefore the basket counts. Will team ‘B’ accept the result? Would the game be over for them? Ask the USA basketball team from the 1972 Olympics if they think they lost the gold medal game. . .
Imagine if no rules governed how people played basketball. At first, an someone would throw an elbow, then a punch. Maybe someone brings brass knuckles onto the court. A player might run out of bounds but now no out of bounds exists. What would happen would quickly cease to resemble anything like basketball. The contest would not test basketball skill but instead, each sides cunning use of violence.
The medievals believed that while war would involve killing, it should not be about killing. War needed to serve something higher than mere accretion of power. This meant that
War needed to have a definite defensive purpose. They justified fighting when done only for those that could not fight themselves.
The limited when they could fight. No fighting on Sundays. Or Fridays. Or during Lent, Advent, Easter, Christmas, Pentecost, feast days, and so on.
They limited who could fight, which was both by accident and design. Learning how to fight on horseback with armor took a lot of training. Thus, only those who had the time to train would fight, which restricted it to the special class of nobles.
The idea of showing deference to women inspired a whole new set of manners, poetry, literature, and so on. I can’t think of any other civilization that exalted the feminine ideal to such a degree. A quick comparison of ancient and medieval art reveals this.
For civilization to survive, we need people willing and able to defend it. We do a fearful thing during war when we hand over the fate of our civilization to men practiced in the arts of violence. Killing machines like Achilles will defend us, but then drag us down with them in a spiral of violence. After the Trojan War, Greece descended into a Dark Age. After Rome’s victory over Carthage, their Republic flew apart at the seams in an intermittent civil war that lasted for a century. Chivalry sought to stop the cycle of violence and allow civilization to return after the fighting stops.
Women today have many more rights, and have much more equality with men than they used to. But modern women face a dilemma. Can chivalry and equality co-exist, or do they cancel each other out? If so which ideal should we prefer? If they can co-exist, how would they do so? We had an interesting discussion about holding doors open. All the girls agreed that they liked it when guys hold the door for them, at least under most circumstances. But guys almost universally agreed that they did not like it when girls held door open for them. Why might this be? Is it sexist for the guys to think this, or are they onto some fundamental truth about the nature of male and female?
I asked the students whether or not any objected to having a girl’s soccer team, and no one did. But just about everyone agreed that a girl’s wrestling team wouldn’t just be weird, it would be “wrong.” And yet, 100 years ago many would have thought that women wearing pants was fundamentally wrong (i.e. women shouldn’t wear men’s clothing/cross-dressing), whereas today we don’t give it a second thought. How can we know the difference? Knowing where to draw the line between relative cultural difference and eternal principle requires a great deal of discernment.
In the end, medieval people believed that the presence of male and female in creation revealed certain truths about God Himself. These truths should be “acted out” in our daily lives so that we might better know God. So for medievals, the confusion of genders not only denigrated God’s creation but obscured God’s revelation.
This idea makes more sense if we think of life as a kind of play. The playwright has a particular message to get across to his audience. That messages requires each of the performers to know their role, and to know their lines. Forgetting ones lines wouldn’t be a sin, but it would obscure the play’s message for the audience. In this analogy, the “audience” would be those all around us everyday. We all have the responsibility and privilege of imaging God to others all the time. The diversity of creation reveals the “diversity” of God. Both the male and female “principles” reveal something about God, and again, we should not obscure the revelation God means to give through us.
To cap off our discussion of chivalry we will look at the life and ministry of St. Francis. I wanted to focus on his famous “Canticle of the Sun.” It reads,
Most high, all powerful, all good Lord! All praise is yours, all glory, all honor, and all blessing. To you, alone, Most High, do they belong. No mortal lips are worthy to pronounce your name.
Be praised, my Lord, through all your creatures, especially through my lord Brother Sun, who brings the day; and you give light through him. And he is beautiful and radiant in all his splendor! Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.
Be praised, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars; in the heavens you have made them, precious and beautiful.
Be praised, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air, and clouds and storms, and all the weather, through which you give your creatures sustenance.
Be praised, My Lord, through Sister Water; she is very useful, and humble, and precious, and pure.
Be praised, my Lord, through Brother Fire, through whom you brighten the night. He is beautiful and cheerful, and powerful and strong.
Be praised, my Lord, through our sister Mother Earth, who feeds us and rules us, and produces various fruits with colored flowers and herbs.
Be praised, my Lord, through those who forgive for love of you; through those who endure sickness and trial. Happy those who endure in peace, for by you, Most High, they will be crowned.
Be praised, my Lord, through our Sister Bodily Death, from whose embrace no living person can escape. Woe to those who die in mortal sin! Happy those she finds doing your most holy will. The second death can do no harm to them.
Praise and bless my Lord, and give thanks, and serve him with great humility.
We looked at how St. Francis personified creation and even assigned various roles, or genders, to different parts of creation. The ‘male’ aspects are active, the female more humble and nurturing. Despite this strong distinction, no one would call St. Francis a chauvinist.
Lest we think this a complete relic of our past, why does some much love poetry involve the moon and not the sun? Why do we give our ships feminine names? Are we living in the past or recognizing in some way a fundamental truth about reality? Peter Kreeft discusses this in his wonderful “Love Sees with New Eyes” essay, which can be found here.
For those who may be interested, C.S. Lewis excellent (and short) essay entitled “The Necessity of Chivalry is here. He writes, “The ideal embodied [in chivalry] is escapism in the sense never dreamed of by those who usually use the word; it offers the only possible escape between wolves who do not understand, and sheep who cannot defend, the things which make life desirable.”
I admit that the museum’s in D.C. are generally all great, even though despite living within striking distance I rarely visit them. Recently, however, I got a chance to visit Manhattan and the Metropolitan Museum of Art — an experience on a whole different level. One couldn’t possibly see everything, but I spent some time in their extensive Egyptian wing and a thought struck me.
The museum laid out the pieces chronologically, not topically, and this gives one a chance to see the development of Egyptian style and technique over millennia. Now, very little changed over time — as a culture Egypt had a very strong identity and they did not necessarily value originality — but I had a flight of fancy that subtle differences emerge upon close inspection.
Below is some work from Egypt’s “Old Kingdom” ca. 2500 B.C.
Next, examples from their “Middle Kingdom” ca. 1400 B.C.
And finally, work from the “Late Kingdom” ca. 700 B.C.
No civilization lives out its time as a perfect bell-curve of steady rise, peak, and smooth decline. Ebbs and flows interject themselves. But we can safely say that Egypt as a “power” was on the rise early, perhaps peaked during the reign of Thutmose III in the Middle Kingdom period, and certainly continually waned after around 1100 B.C. and into the Late Kingdom.
But the artistic quality does not follow this bell curve. In general their art evidences a steady increase at least in technical skill down through the Late Kingdom well past their political decline. One could argue, however, that we see the most latent spiritual power in their earliest art. The somewhat stoic solidity of their craft in the Old Kingdom seems to be bursting with energy just waiting to get released. Might we say then, that the increase in technical skill not only does not mirror an increase in the overall health of their civilization, it might even be evidence for their decline?
We see something similar in the history of Rome. Here, for example is a bust of the hero of the 2nd Punic War, Scipio Africanus ca. 200 B.C.
Fast-forward about 400 years and we find ourselves in the reign of the Emperor Commodus. At this point Rome controlled more territory than at any point in its history, but no one would suggest that Rome stood taller and healthier in 180 A.D. than at 200 B.C. And yet,
once again we see that technical skill in the arts has increased, and again we can draw similar conclusions about this increase as we can in Egypt. Rome has declined, but technical skill has gone up.* We can also see a great deal more “spiritual” strength in Scipio than we can in Commodus, again similar to Egypt.
All this should be taken in the spirit of this blog as a whole. I am a rank amateur making a guess. But if my guess be correct, why might it be so?
We can understand why a civilization might lack technical refinement in its earlier stages. It has little to do with intelligence, I’m sure, and perhaps more to do with not having developed a clear style or sense of themselves. But if the early stages show some of the clumsiness of youth, it also displays some of the (irrational) confidence of adolescence as well.
For convenience I label the later stages — like those that produce the Commodus bust — as ages of “refinement.” I don’t think that “refinement” means an inward turn — inward turns of a civilization can bring great spiritual insights (this post here discusses this possibility in Byzantine civilization), and I don’t think either the Egyptian or Roman art shows that. Rather, the refinement in the above art appears excessively “outward” to me, a decoration, perhaps even a covering over, of an inward reality. In the case of Commodus, for example, his desire to show himself, a Roman emperor, in the guise of the Greek Hercules, bodes ill for himself and Rome. “Refinement” then represents a stage occupied not with deeper spiritual things but with “protesting too much.”
We can see this in Rococo art, for example, and the resulting storm that followed. One can see the French Revolution of 1789 as the fall of one type of European Civilization. It’s nice to celebrate simple happiness — nothing wrong with that. But for my money Rococo (mid-late 1700’s) goes too far . . .
The monstrous retribution that fell upon that civilization both in terms of the French Revolution specifically, and the Napoleonic Wars generally, has its harbinger with the drastic change in art represented by Jacques-Louis David. All sense of “refinement” gets sacrificed to stark reality, in this case, the consul Brutus receiving back the bodies of his sons he ordered executed for treason to the Republic.
Returning to Egypt, while the architectural and sculptural achievements of the era of the late kingdom Pharaoh Ramses II impress in terms of scale, we do not see the same spiritual depth as in Akhenaton a century before him,
or the stark humanity of the much earlier Pharaoh Djoser (perhaps akin in style to bust of Scipio above, which might place their respective civilizations in the same spiritual framework).
If this is a good/correct guess for these civilizations, we can ask whether or not it appears to be a law of civilizations generally, but We may wonder too where our civilization fits in this suggested interpretative framework. I think it obvious that many of our cultural creations do not evince the clumsy confidence of adolescence. I’m tempted to say that we focus on ways to multiply purely external pleasure, which might put us in an “Age of Refinement.” But if I say these things I will be following the pattern of every ancient historian in my, “Kids these days,” attitude, as well as most men generally past 40. I don’t know if I’m quite ready to embrace that just yet.
*There may be another parallel between Rome and Egypt — we might say that Thutmose III (ca. 1450 B.C.) and Marcus Aurelius (ca. 160 A.D.) represent similar places in the respective histories of Egypt and Rome. Both perhaps represent an “Indian Summer,” — a brief but ultimately failed rally against the tide.
Most of us would shudder at the thought of visiting a medieval doctor. After all, they bled people to make them well and actually used leeches for treatment of wounds (doctors were actually called ‘leeches’ in the common tongue). This general aversion offers a great opportunity to get a fresh look at medieval people and see what they valued. How they thought about health reflected their deeper beliefs about humanity and the world around them. Hopefully by looking at a very different approach to health we can see the nose in front of our own face, and more accurately understand our own culture.
I remember a conversation I had just after college. A woman asked me what I thought of Eastern medicine, and I replied that I didn’t know much about it, but was wary of the possible non-Christian foundations of eastern approaches. She asked me, “Are you so sure that western medicine has a Christian foundation?” I was struck speechless (a rare occurrence, unfortunately). I had to admit that I had never thought about it before, never seen the nose on my face, so to speak.
In that spirit, I wanted the students to approach the subject with an open mind.
What did they believe?
Just as the medievals based (consciously or no) their society on their perception of the order in the cosmos, so too they thought of health vis a vis man’s place in the universe. It was “holistic” healing in the widest possible sense. Originally, man stood in harmony with the rest of creation, just as Earth did with the rest of the cosmos. Man in harmony with creation meant man in harmony with himself, with his various internal elements of earth, air, water, and blood in harmony.
The Fall disrupted this harmony, and so medicine should seek to restore it, to put the elements back in their right place. This concept of balance, so important in medieval politics, shows itself in medicine as well. Today we have various medical supplements that allow us to go beyond what is natural but for medievals the key was not fighting nature but restoring harmony with it.
Internal harmony had its reflection again in the relationship between the physical and spiritual in our lives. Some mock medieval medicine by arguing that they thought every disease had its cure in prayer. That is not true, but they did believe that one’s mental and spiritual well-being impacted our physical state, and vice-versa.
Their emphasis on the planets probably stands as one of their more perplexing beliefs, and for that reason perhaps most instructive for us.
First, we note that the medievals saw the cosmos as interconnected like a spider web, not one of free-floating entities. Movement in one area effected other areas. Motion in cosmos impacts motion on Earth, which impacts us.
This does not mean that they believed that planetary motion could cause actions on earth. Rather, planetary motion was considered part of the environment in which man operated, and had to account for. Here is Aquinas, for example, on the motion of the heavenly bodies and the limits of its impact. . .
Summa Theologica, Do Planets cause human action?
Objection 1: It would seem that the human will is moved by a heavenly body. For all various and multiform movements are reduced, as to their cause, to a uniform movement which is that of the heavens, as is proved in Phys. viii, 9. But human movements are various and multiform, since they begin to be, whereas previously they were not. Therefore they are reduced, as to their cause, to the movement of the heavens, which is uniform according to its nature.
Objection 2: Further, according to Augustine (De Trin. iii, 4) “the lower bodies are moved by the higher.” But the movements of the human body, which are caused by the will, could not be reduced to the movement of the heavens, as to their cause, unless the will too were moved by the heavens. Therefore the heavens move the human will.
Objection 3: Further, by observing the heavenly bodies astrologers foretell the truth about future human acts, which are caused by the will. But this would not be so, if the heavenly bodies could not move man’s will. Therefore the human will is moved by a heavenly body.
On the contrary, Damascene says (De Fide Orth. ii, 7) that “the heavenly bodies are not the causes of our acts.” But they would be, if the will, which is the principle of human acts, were moved by the heavenly bodies. Therefore the will is not moved by the heavenly bodies.
I answer that, It is evident that the will can be moved by the heavenly bodies in the same way as it is moved by its object; that is to say, in so far as exterior bodies, which move the will, through being offered to the senses, and also the organs themselves of the sensitive powers, are subject to the movements of the heavenly bodies.
But some have maintained that heavenly bodies have an influence on the human will, in the same way as some exterior agent moves the will, as to the exercise of its act. But this is impossible. For the “will,” as stated in De Anima iii, 9, “is in the reason.” Now the reason is a power of the soul, not bound to a bodily organ: wherefore it follows that the will is a power absolutely incorporeal and immaterial. But it is evident that no body can act on what is incorporeal, but rather the reverse: because things incorporeal and immaterial have a power more formal and more universal than any corporeal things whatever. Therefore it is impossible for a heavenly body to act directly on the intellect or will. For this reason Aristotle (De Anima iii, 3) ascribed to those who held that intellect differs not from sense, the theory that “such is the will of men, as is the day which the father of men and of gods bring on” [*Odyssey xviii. 135] (referring to Jupiter, by whom they understand the entire heavens). For all the sensitive powers, since they are acts of bodily organs, can be moved accidentally, by the heavenly bodies, i.e. through those bodies being moved, whose acts they are.
But since it has been stated (A[2]) that the intellectual appetite is moved, in a fashion, by the sensitive appetite, the movements of the heavenly bodies have an indirect bearing on the will; in so far as the will happens to be moved by the passions of the sensitive appetite.
Reply to Objection 1: The multiform movements of the human will are reduced to some uniform cause, which, however, is above the intellect and will. This can be said, not of any body, but of some superior immaterial substance. Therefore there is no need for the movement of the will to be referred to the movement of the heavens, as to its cause.
Reply to Objection 2: The movements of the human body are reduced, as to their cause, to the movement of a heavenly body, in so far as the disposition suitable to a particular movement, is somewhat due to the influence of heavenly bodies; also, in so far as the sensitive appetite is stirred by the influence of heavenly bodies; and again, in so far as exterior bodies are moved in accordance with the movement of heavenly bodies, at whose presence, the will begins to will or not to will something; for instance, when the body is chilled, we begin to wish to make the fire. But this movement of the will is on the part of the object offered from without: not on the part of an inward instigation.
Reply to Objection 3: As stated above (Cf. FP, Q[84], AA[6],7) the sensitive appetite is the act of a bodily organ. Wherefore there is no reason why man should not be prone to anger or concupiscence, or some like passion, by reason of the influence of heavenly bodies, just as by reason of his natural complexion. But the majority of men are led by the passions, which the wise alone resist. Consequently, in the majority of cases predictions about human acts, gathered from the observation of heavenly bodies, are fulfilled. Nevertheless, as Ptolemy says (Centiloquium v), “the wise man governs the stars”; which is a though to say that by resisting his passions, he opposes his will, which is free and nowise subject to the movement of the heavens, to such like effects of the heavenly bodies.
Or, as Augustine says (Gen. ad lit. ii, 15): “We must confess that when the truth is foretold by astrologers, this is due to some most hidden inspiration, to which the human mind is subject without knowing it. And since this is done in order to deceive man, it must be the work of the lying spirits.”
For them, paying attention to planetary motion might be akin to us today paying heed to a weather pattern off the coast of Japan. But again, Aquinas hints at something more than this, something with more weight behind it. C.S. Lewis, a professor of Medieval & Renaissance Literature, used these ideas in his Chronicles of Narnia series, as well as books like Perelandra and That Hideous Strength.
Different planets had different impacts. Of course the planets outside of earth had no sin, so the influence of some was not bad in itself, but often became so when interacting with our own fallen environment.
Saturn — The Infortuna Major
Saturn’s influence tends to make people introspective, moody, and inwardly focused. This makes sense when we realize that the Greek name for Saturn is Cronos, where we get our language for time. The idea here is of one who broods, who navel gazes. Saturn is associated with the “melancholy” personality type. Melancholies can achieve great heights in artistic, intellectual, and spiritual endeavors. Many of our great geniuses likely had this personality. But the danger comes when they live too much inside their own head, isolate themselves, and subject themselves to psychological debilitations like depression.
Jupiter — The Fortuna Major
Jupiter received its name from Jove, the Roman name for Zeus. Hence, Jupiter brings kingly joy. When the king is happy the people feast. People come together and sing, dance, eat, etc. This concept of communal joy was the highest good for medievals, which they associated with the “Sanguine” personality type.
Mars — The Infortuna Minor
Mars of course brings war. The “red planet” is associated with anger, and thus its earthly mirrors can be found in strong ‘Type A’ personalities. What should strike us about Mars being the “Infortuna Minor” is that the medievals did not think war as bad as a nation of isolated brooders. War brings many evils, but a silver lining can be that it does bring people together — and here we see again the medieval “community” emphasis.
Venus — The Fortuna Minor
Venus brings love, and is often linked with romantic love between a man and woman. Again, we have an interesting contrast between their world and ours. For us, nothing can be greater than experiencing romantic love, but for them, nothing was great than “joviality.” Again, we see the community emphasis, and when we step back from romantic love, we see that while it does bring two people together, it also can isolate those two from others around them. Isolated joy between two people cannot match communal joy for the medievals.
The composer Gustav Holst used the medieval ideas about the planets to write a series of compositions. As is appropriate, the best one is “Jupiter.”
All in all, we have more of the medieval world with us than we might realize.
This week we wrapped up the 12th century by looking at Henry II, king of England from 1154-1179.
Henry had many great leadership qualities, as even his enemies attested to. Tall, handsome, bold, decisive, charismatic — the list could go on. Feudal society, however, seemed arranged specifically to prevent strong ‘type A’ personalities like Henry’s from exercising their full potential. Past updates discussed the various ‘spheres’ of influence, local distinctions, and tangled allegiances that prevented any centralization of power in the medieval world.
All of this sort of thing no doubt maddened Henry, just as it would frustrate anyone who liked efficiency, action, and “getting things done,” not to mention power. Henry did his best, however, and had a great deal of success. One of his final frontiers remained the creation of universal law throughout England, and here he met the staunch opposition of the Church, in the person of his one time friend Thomas Becket, a man to whom he had personally shown enormous favor, raising him from his “common” birth to the heights of power. Henry also wanted the power to appoint bishops to vacant sees, and to try monks and clergy who had committed crimes. Becket didn’t mind the first so much, acquiesced on the last, and ended up dying for his opposition to Henry’s claim to control the clergy.
The medievals inherited one of their dominant theological motifs from St. Augustine’s “City of God.” In his treatise Augustine outlined the existence of two cities on Earth, the “City of Man,” and the “City of God.” The City of Man has its manifestation in the use of power to maintain order — the State. The state has legitimacy in the eyes of God. It performs crucial functions for our well being. But don’t kid yourself into thinking that the City of Man has any redemptive qualities or possibilities. It performs purely ‘negative’ functions. It restrains evil but cannot serve as a conduit for redemption.
The City of God, on the other hand, looks beyond the maintaining of power to redemption. It focuses on love, forgiveness, and grace. The City of God, therefore, must not be ‘infected’ by the City of Man. The two are ultimately incompatible not because the City of Man is inherently bad but because they have different goals. For many medievals, the political and legal independence of the Church helped maintain the Kingdom of God on Earth.
The feud between Henry and Beckett likely had its personal undertones, but at its heart, Beckett believed he stood for the independence of the Church. Henry’s claim to appoint bishops and discipline clergy to Beckett looked like the City of Man trying to control the City of God. If the City of Man got its clutches on the Church, the Kingdom of God would suffer, the light of Christ would dim.
Becket’s opposition to Henry seems arcane to us. But to keep its independence, the Church believed that it needed to maintain both its territorial and legal separation from the state. For his part, Henry felt that he could not tolerate a de facto “state within a state” while he reigned. In the end, four of Henry’s knights killed Becket, though perhaps not on Henry’s direct order. Nevertheless, Henry ‘lost,’ for the people blamed him for Becket’s death, and he had to publicly do penance. At the end of the post I include one medieval contemporary’s admiring evaluation of Henry II. He had many strengths, but some of these strengths could turn to weaknesses in the wrong context.
Previously we examined aspects of the medieval “guild” system. Guilds had three basic functions:
To provide a means to train new workers
To enforce a uniform standard of quality
To protect its members
But beyond these basic functions, guilds, whether consciously or not, reinforced basic values of medieval society, which valued community and stability over competition and change. I assume they would look at modern day America and shake their heads. So much turmoil, so much of the “rat-race” mentality, so much cut-throat competition. Why not all agree to scale back and relax a little? Why make the middle-class dad have to stay open later to stay ahead of the competition just to keep up with competitors and miss his son’s soccer game? In the end, it’s not worth it.
Guilds also provided another check and balance, or block of power and influence in the medieval stew. They further prevented any kind of concentration of power. Understanding the guild system can help us understand why Henry II actions brought so much controversy.
But, as students noted, the guild system geared itself towards stability and community, not innovation. In America, for example, we do not shed a tear if Hechingers Hardware loses to Home Depot, so long as we get a better deal (does anyone else remember Hechingers?). We understand that competition benefits consumers, and we accept the occasional disruption and instability that brings to the economy. The medievals, on the other hand, made a different choice, thinking more of the immediate local community and less of the amorphous general public.
Many thanks,
Dave
Here is the “friendly” source on Henry II
To Walter, by the grace of God archbishop of Palermo, once associate, now lord and dearest friend in Christ, Peter of Blois sends greeting and wished continual success of your desires.
The blessed Lord God of Israel, who visited and made his mercy upon you, raised you up in need from the dust, so that you may sit with kings and princes and may hold the throne of glory. Terrible is the Lord in his judgments, and great in his compassion, very worthy of praise, for “His compassion is over all that he made.” [Psalm 145:9] Therefore of his compassion, which he has magnified in you, you have continual and steadfast memory, nor is that Judaic reproach seen in you: “They are not mindful of His benefits and of his wonders which he has shown to them.” [Psalm 77:11] There is nothing like ingratitude to provoke the indignation of the Most High: the very provocation of evils, deprivation of benefits, extermination of merits. On account of reverence for that one, who delivered you from contemptible poverty, may you exhibit most fully the office of humanity to the Cisalpine poor; truly those who go to, or return from the land in which walked the feet of our Lord, you could strike down in many ways, but you must fulfill their needs with the solace of more humane grace, just as your predecessors in office. You will recognize that the Father is himself Father of orphans and paupers, who exalts the humble, and humiliates the proud: for which on behalf of his poor pilgrims he will uncover you, so that they may find among you aid of customary goodness. And therefore let it frighten you, lest their clamor and complaint ascend to the ears of that one, who is terrible among the kings of the earth, who judges the case of the poor, and accuses on behalf of the meek of the earth.
For the golden sash and silken girdle, and samite, and other exotic goods, which through the bearer of gifts from your largess I receive not as much as I wish, but as much as I deserve, I give back thanks. Truly from this the ancient integrity of your liberality is clear, which neither intervening time nor distance of places, nor assumption of honor, nor other things destructive to friendship were able to undo.
Since however you have demanded from me with all insistence that I should send to you the shape and habits of the lord king of England in an accurate description – which exceeds my faculties, and for which indeed the vein of Mantuan genius would seem insufficient enough – I nevertheless will communicate to you what I know without envy and detraction. About David it was said [I Kings 16] to the commendation of his beauty, that he was red-haired; however you will know that the lord king has been red-haired so far, except that the coming of old age and gray hair has altered that color somewhat. His height is medium, so that neither does he appear great among the small, nor yet does he seem small among the great. His head is round, just as if the seat of great wisdom, and specially a shrine of lofty counsel. Such is the size of his head, that so it matches with his neck and with the whole body in proportionate moderation. His eyes are round, and white and plain, while he is of calm spirit; but in anger and disorder of heart they shine like fire and flash in fury. His hair is not in fear of the losses of baldness, nevertheless on top there is a tonsure of hairs; his leonine face is rather square. The eminence of his nose is weighed to the beauty of the whole body with natural moderation; curved legs, a horseman’s shins, broad chest, and a boxer’s arms all announce him as a man strong, agile and bold; nevertheless, in a certain joint of his foot the part of the toenail is grown into the flesh of his foot, to the vehement outrage of the whole foot. His hands testify grossly to the same neglect of his men; truly he neglects their care all the time; nor at any time, unless carrying birds, does he use gloves. Daily in mass, in counsels and in other public doings of the realm always from morning until vespers he stands on his feet. And, he never sits, unless riding a horse or eating, although he has shins greatly wounded and bruised with frequent blows of horses’ hooves. In a single day, if necessary, he can run through four or five day-marches and, thus foiling the plots of his enemies, frequently mocks their plots with surprise sudden arrivals; he wears boots without a fold, caps without decoration, light apparel. He is a passionate lover of woods; while not engaged in battles, he occupies himself with birds and dogs. For in fact his flesh would weigh him down enormously with a great burden of fat, if he did not subdue the insolence of his belly with fasts and exercise; and also in getting onto a horse, preserving the lightness of youth, he fatigues almost every day the most powerful for the labor. Truly he does not, like other kings, linger in his palace, but traveling through the provinces he investigates the doings of all, judging powerfully those whom he has made judges of others. No one is more cunning in counsel, more fiery in speech, more secure in the midst of dangers, more cautious in fortune, more constant in adversity. Whom once he has esteemed, with difficulty he unloves them; whom once he has hated, with difficulty he receives into the grace of his familiarity. Always are in his hands bow, sword, spear and arrow, unless he be in council or in books. As often as he is able to rest from cares and anxieties, he occupies himself by reading alone, or in a crowd of clerics he labors to untangle some knot of inquiry. For while your king knows his letters well, our king is more literate by far. Truly I have judged the abilities of both in learned matters. You know that the king of Sicily was my student for a year, and had had from you the basic arts of versification and literature; he obtained more benefit of knowledge through my industry and solicitude. However as soon as I had departed the kingdom, that one turned himself over to abject books in imperial leisure. But yet in the household of the lord king of the English every day is school, in the constant conversation of the most literate and discussion of questions. No one is more honest in speech than our king, more polite in eating, more moderate in drinking; no one is more magnificent in gift-giving, no one more munificent in alms-giving: and therefore his name is like poured oil, and the entire church of saints describes the alms of such a one. Our king is peaceable, victorious in war, glorious in peace: he is zealous for the things to be desired in this world and he procures peace for his people. He considers whatever pertains to the peace of the people, in whatever he speaks, in whatever he does; so that his people may rest, he incessantly takes on troubled and enormous labors. It aims to the peace of his people that he calls councils, that he makes laws, that he makes friendships, that he brings low the proud, that he threatens battles, that he launches terror to the princes. Also that immensity of money aims at the peace of his people, which he gives out, which he receives, which he gathers, which he disperses. In walls, in ramparts, in fortifications, in ditches, in enclosures of wild beasts and fish, and in palaces there is no one more subtle, and no one more magnificent to be found.
His most powerful and most noble father the count [of Anjou] extended his borders greatly; but the king added to his paternal lands with abundance in his strong hands the duchy of Normandy, the duchy of Brittany, the kingdom of England, the kingdom of Scotland, the kingdom of Ireland, the kingdom of Wales; he increased inestimably the titles of his magnificent inheritance. No one is more mild to the afflicted, no one more friendly to the poor, no one more unbearable to the proud; he always strives to oppress the proud with the semblance of divinity, to raise up the oppressed, and to stir up against swelling of pride continual persecutions and deadly troubles. When however he may according to the custom of the kingdom have had roles in making elections of most important and most powerful, he nevertheless always had his hands pure and free from all venality. I merely touch upon, I will not describe these and other endowments of soul as much as body, with which nature has marked him out before others; truly I confess my insufficiency and would believe that Cicero and Virgil themselves would sweat under such a labor. I have briefly tasted this little morsel of his appearance and habits at your request; truly I shall seem either to have undertaken an unbearable work, or to have cut back much about the magnificence of so great a man through jealousy. Nevertheless I, serving your charity, do what I can do, and what I know without envy and without detraction, I communicate with most prompt good will, and also among other great men, who write in praise of my lord, I put my might of devotion in a treasure chest along with the poor widow.
We discussed what architecture reveals about a civilization, and how specific buildings and designs reflect certain ideas and theological leanings. In discussing cathedrals, I first wanted the students to discuss their own churches. Some observations we made were:
One church had sanctuary that used folding chairs and doubled as a multi-purpose room. The church had an informal worship service, with a pastor that was generally laid back and easy going. At the center of the stage lies the pulpit, and as we might expect, the sermon occupies the central place in their worship service.
Another met in a room for worship with movie theater style seats, with screens occupying a prominent place on the wall. This church, we discovered, puts a premium on cultural relevance and an interactive experience for the worshippers.
One church met in a building similar to an office building complex. One key idea of the church seemed to be not to intimidate anyone with “church.” The sanctuary design and flow of the service had what could be described as a “familiar” feel.
Another church was designed in the traditional way, but with a higher ceiling. They had an altar rail in front, with a choir in robes, a processional with the cross, acolytes, etc. The pulpit is placed off to the side, and true to form, the sermon is not the centerpiece of the service. Instead, with the communion altar at the center, the celebration of the eucharist takes the bulk of the service time each week.
I shared my experience worshipping in an Eastern Orthodox Church some years ago. When you enter, the church immediately had a “this is different” feel. The colors, smells, and chanting all told the attendee, “You are in a different place, you have left “the world” and are now surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, somewhere between Heaven and Earth. Instead of sitting, you spent most of the time standing or kneeling. The point was not to make you comfortable, but to take you out of yourself and your daily surroundings. They might also add that one should not sit in the presence of God.
Each of these designs reflect different philosophies on worship, and their architecture reflects that. While it was certainly not my purpose to say that one is better than another, it is important that we tried to understand that theology will be reflected in architectural style.
From a cosmological and societal perspective, height had great importance to the medievals. When I look at the intricate design and strange creatures that adorn many cathedrals, I get the sense that they were enjoying themselves. Cathedrals took at least 30 years and often more than 50 to build. What does this say about them? What church today could sell a building program that would take at least 30 years to complete? What does that say about us? Were the medievals wasteful and foolish, or is it us who have made worship a humdrum bare bones experience? Do cathedrals, as Abbott Suger said, serve to ‘urge us onwards from the material to the immaterial?’
When we looked at images of a cathedral, their height immediately struck most of the students:
Most likely, our involuntary reaction to these buildings would be to look up and feel small, and that indeed is part of the point. They felt it important that you lose yourself in the face of immensity. Clearly, this kind of architecture stressed the “otherness,” holiness, and transcendence of God. Conversely, it does not emphasize the “nearness” of God. But we must not have the idea that Gothic meant “dark, heavy, and foreboding.” Rather, the medievals came up with their architectural advances specifically to let in more light. They do not press us down to the ground (like pyramids, for example) but take us “upwards” to heaven.
Their architecture takes us back to their cosmology, which also emphasized height, as we saw last week.
Finally, we noted how it reflects the Medieval linking of the physical and spiritual. They did this even with the location of their buildings, most especially in the Mont St. Michael Cathedral in Normandy, France.
The cathedral is dedicated to St. Michael the Archangel, who fights the Dragon in the book of Revelation. They built it in the furthest point possible out into the sea, in itself a testimony and prayer that God and His angels are their first line of defense. Mt. St. Michael perfectly illustrates what medievals believed not only about church, but about how physical things reflect spiritual reality.
This week we began our own Peloponnesian War game on Friday, and in class we delved into the diplomatic tension that ended up bringing on a war between Athens and Sparta.
Athens and Sparta represented two different ways of life, with two different basis of military power. During the Persian Wars between 490-479 B.C. they attained to a measure of foreign unity only because of a common foe. Afterwards they resumed their normal role of a “cold” animosity. Just as the war began the Greek world looked like this. . .
Sparta had an army no one could touch, and the same applied to Athens’ navy. In a way, they had achieved a kind of ancient M.A.D. (Mutually Assured Destruction). Both could do each other in, hypothetically, in different ways. Then Athens decided to build a wall around its city and still preserve access to the sea. It looked something like this:
Some of us may remember Reagan’s idea of a “Star Wars” missile defense system. Many objected to the idea along the grounds that the project would not work or be too expensive, but many in Europe objected to it as well. Why would even our allies object to a defense system?
Some probably thought that if the Soviets could not use their long-range weapons to hit the U.S., they would concentrate on their medium-range missiles and obliterate Europe instead. Thus, some saw that U.S. actions might have an enormous impact on their lives, and yet they had no say in the making of those decisions. Arnold Toynbee called this the complaint of, “No annhilation without representation.”
Others saw that if the system worked, M.A.D. would be obsolete. The deterrent to war from the U.S. perspective would be gone, which might make offensive action from us more likely. Or, would the Soviets do a first-strike before the system became operational, knowing that their “time was short?” In this way, many saw the building of a “defensive” system as an essentially offensive act.
Many in Sparta saw the situation in Athens the same way. If the Spartans could not invade and sack the city, then the Athenians had much less of a deterrent to venture far and wide with its navy. The walls had the direct purpose of defending themselves from attack, and after all, the Persians had sacked Athens during the Persian Wars. But, this was not how others interpreted their actions.
When the Cold War began in the late 1940’s Secretary of State George Marshall urged those around him to delve into Thucydides’ The Peloponnesian War, for he believed that the conflict had significant parallels to the problems they would face. He proved prescient.
Athens faced a crucial decision between the years 434-433 B.C. Corcyra had maintained neutrality in the run-up to what would be the war but faced a crisis. Corinth threatened them with invasion, and they knew that in time, they would likely fall in a protracted war. As a neutral they had no allies, but they could turn to Athens (Corinth was a Spartan ally, so they certainly could not ask for Spartan help). Athens heard from both delegations, and Thucydides records that the debate hinged on a few key points with one of them being the idea of the inevitability of war.
The Corcyrans argued that conflict with Sparta would come sooner or later, but it would certainly come. Thus, you should ally with us because when war comes you want us as friends rather than enemies.
Corinth countered with the opposite: peace was the current reality between Athens and Sparta and that had every reason to continue. War would only come by overt disruption of the peace, and Athenian ships tangling with Corinthian ships might be just the thing to bring on war.
In the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 General Curtis LeMay believed that Kennedy should order a full-strike against the missiles in Cuba and initiate war with the Soviet Union. He knew that at the time we had a significant lead in nuclear weapons and would therefore win any kind of nuclear conflict. Yes, millions of U.S. citizens would die, but the Soviets would no longer exist and trouble us no more. If we waited, the Soviets would close the gap on our lead and then when war came millions more Americans would die and our victory would be much more in doubt.
Athens had the same decision to make, and decided to attempt a halfway solution. They allied with Corcyra, but only for minimal defensive purposes. Most of the students approved of this option as a way to get the best of both worlds, and it could have possibly worked out. In actual fact, the presence of Athenian ships at the Battle of Sybota made Corinth hopping mad, but were not enough to tip the battle decisively in Athens and Corcyra’s favor. The Corinthian fleet would live to haunt Athens at a later date.
Next week we’ll delve into the actual fighting as the war began.
If you are interested in the speeches of Corcyra and Corinth as Thucydides records them, they can be accessed online, beginning with Book 1, Chapter 32.
This week we wrapped up our unit on the Crusades. This difficult era raises many questions for us:
1. Did the Crusades attempt to stem the tide of Moslem aggression, or did they in fact cause more Moslem unity and a resurgence of Moslem power?
Some see the Crusades as a legitimate attempt to strike against Moslem expansionism. Others argue that the Crusades forced the Moslems to unite once again. Having been invaded by the West, they determined to renew their attacks against them. Do the Crusades bear any blame for the eventual collapse of Constantinople in 1453?
2. What role should faith and reason play in everyday affairs?
The Third Crusade is a good example of this problem. Richard I fought his way to Jerusalem, but went home in part because he believed he could not hold the city even if he took it. Therefore, it was pointless to risk his live and the lives of his men for nothing. Some criticized his actions, saying something to the effect of, “You must step forward in faith, and watch God bless you. This is what faith is all about! You cannot think of this in practical terms. That is not thinking with faith. Put a foot into the Jordan, and then watch it part.”
We see this same question also running through the idea of the tragic Children’s Crusades, though here the Church strongly opposed Europe’s youth to no avail.* How should the balance between ‘faith’ and ‘reason’ guide our daily lives? How should we answer the argument of many young people who participated in the ‘Children’s Crusades,’ which ran something like this:
God has called his people to crusade for Jerusalem. We believed so in 1097. Has God changed? He is the same, yesterday, today, forever. Therefore, His call is the same. We must still vie for the Holy Land.
But how shall we go? Let us not trust in princes, horses, or chariots (i.e. Ps. 20), let us know that our trust is in God, by marching out in true faith. We see in Scripture that Moses led the Israelites to the Red Sea and it parted. Joshua marched around the city, and it fell. Guided by God’s word, we shall emulate their example. God shall make a way for us to take Jerusalem, and do so in a way so that all glory goes to him.
Many argue that the problem with the Crusades was a lack of organization, supplies, or reinforcements. This only betrays worldly thinking. Would more supplies have made the Crusaders less greedy in 1204? Would it have made them less violent inside Jerusalem’s walls in 1099? No, the problem has been our lack of faith and obedience.
Jesus pointed out the strength and purity of the faith of children. Therefore, who better than the Church’s youth to undertake this venture?
We know that the Children’s Crusades (both of them) ended in utter disaster. But what would you say in response to their argument? How can you disprove them? What is faith’s relationship to reason?
3. The west attempted at least seven times at retaking Jerusalem. What should this tell us about them?
That they were foolishly stubborn?
That they were intensely dedicated and willing to make great sacrifices for achieving their goal?
That they were a people of faith willing to trust in spite of adversity?
That they were foolish, naive, and used ‘faith’ as a cover for their prejudice and desire for gain?
In the end, the Crusades would have many unintended consequences. The West was exposed to Greek literature and philosophy for the first time. St. Thomas Aquinas, the Renaissance, and Exploration may all have been by-products of this, among other things. The Crusades also raise many questions about using violence as means to bring about the Kingdom of God that are still with us. If we agree with the Crusades, should we also agree with the bombing of abortion clinics?
Next week we will return to our look at Medieval Feudal society, and I hope that the students will be confronted with good questions.
Dave
*I should note that scholars debate when these crusades took place, and whether or not there was one crusade or two. A few even doubt whether or not they were children at all, as some believe they may have been a mass of landless unemployed. My rendering in class was the traditional story.
This week we focused on what is known as the First Crusade, the only Crusade to actually reach Jerusalem and conquer the city. Perhaps more than other crusades, it was this first one that concentrated all that is admirable, strange, and horrifying about this period in the past.
We discussed last week the reasons and motivations for the Crusades, and whether or not one agrees with their reasons, we cannot deny the enormous difficulty of the proposed enterprise. Capturing Jerusalem meant a journey of several hundred miles on foot without an established supply line, having to take at least one fortified city (Antioch) before even reaching Jerusalem, which would have thousands of defenders behind the large walls of the city. Even today, parts of the the “old” city of Jerusalem still stands, and we can see what the Crusaders saw themselves 1000 years ago.
As anyone can see, taking the city would be a formidable task.
From Antioch, the Crusaders approached the city barefoot, the standard mode of travel for all medieval pilgrims. This fact alone shows that the Crusaders saw themselves not so much as warriors first and foremost, but on a spiritual quest. Like Joshua they marched around the city. This was no standard military operation.
Understandably, they were anxious to get inside the city and claim victory. They had heard many stories of atrocities perpetrated against Christians in Jerusalem. They saw with their own own Moslem defenders taunting them, smashing crosses and other relics in front of their eyes. Moslems also apparently killed pages sent by the knights to get water, which horrified and enraged the Crusaders all the more. Finally, they broke through and entered the city. One eyewitness described it this way. . .
When the morning came, our men eagerly rushed to be walls and dragged the [seige towers] forward, but the Saracens had constructed so many machines that for each one of ours they now had nine or ten. Thus they greatly interfered with our efforts. This was the ninth day, on which the priest had said that we would capture the city. But why do I delay so long? Our machines were now shaken apart by the blows of many stones, and our men lagged because they were very weary. However, there remained the mercy of the Lord which is never overcome nor conquered, but is always a source of support in times of adversity. One incident must not be omitted. Two women tried to bewitch one of the hurling machines, but a stone struck and crushed them, as well as three slaves, so that their lives were extinguished and the evil incantations averted.
By noon our men were greatly discouraged. They were weary and at the end of their resources. There were still many of the enemy opposing each one of our men; the walls were very high and strong, and the great resources and skill that the enemy exhibited in repairing their defenses seemed too great for us to overcome. But, while we hesitated, irresolute, and the enemy exulted in our discomfiture, the healing mercy of God inspired us and turned our sorrow into joy, for the Lord did not forsake us. While a council was being held to decide whether or not our [seige engines] should be withdrawn, for some were burned and the rest badly shaken to pieces, a knight on the Mount of Olives began to wave his shield to those who were with the Count and others, signalling them to advance. Who this knight was we have been unable to find out. At this signal our men began to take heart, and some began to batter down the wall, while others began to ascend by means of scaling ladders and ropes. Our archers shot burning firebrands, and in this way checked the attack that the Saracens were making upon the wooden towers of the Duke and the two Counts. These firebrands, moreover, were wrapped in cotton. This shower of fire drove the defenders from the walls. Then the Count quickly released the long drawbridge which had protected the side of the wooden tower next to the wall, and it swung down from the top, being fastened to the middle of the tower, making a bridge over which the men began to enter Jerusalem bravely and fearlessly. Among those who entered first were Tancred and the Duke of Lorraine, and the amount of blood that they shed on that day is incredible. All ascended after them, and the Saracens now began to suffer.
They took the city, but then tragically took it one step further, for most of the men went to and fro, killing any Moslem they could find, be they men, women, or children. The information about this horrifying massacre came not from Moslem sources but directly from the Christians themselves. One wrote that,
Strange to relate, however, at this very time when the city was practically captured by the Franks, the Saracens were still fighting on the other side, where the Count was attacking the wall as though the city should never be captured. But now that our men had possession of the walls and towers, wonderful sights were to be seen. Some of our men (and this was more merciful) cut off the heads of their enemies; others shot them with arrows, so that they fell from the towers; others tortured them longer by casting them into the flames. Piles of heads, hands, and feet were to be seen in the streets of the city. It was necessary to pick one’s way over the bodies of men and horses. But these were small matters compared to what happened at the Temple of Solomon, a place where religious services are ordinarily chanted. What happened there? If I tell the truth, it will exceed your powers of belief. So let it suffice to say this much, at least, that in the Temple and porch of Solomon, men rode in blood up to their knees and bridle reins. Indeed, it was a just and splendid judgment of God that this place should be filled with the blood of the unbelievers, since it had suffered so long from their blasphemies. The city was filled with corpses and blood. Some of the enemy took refuge in the Tower of David, and, petitioning Count Raymond for protection, surrendered the Tower into his hands.
Another account confirmed this, writing,
Many fled to the roof of the temple of Solomon, and were shot with arrows, so that they fell to the ground dead. In this temple almost ten thousand were killed. Indeed, if you had been there you would have seen our feet colored to our ankles with the blood of the slain. But what more shall I relate? None of them were left alive; neither women nor children were spared.
When the pagans had been overcome, our men seized great numbers, both men and women, either killing them or keeping them captive, as they wished.
Both Moslems and Christians committed atrocities during the Crusades, but none would equal the shocking scale and brutality of the massacre at Jerusalem. And yet, the Crusaders at the time interpreted their actions in almost strictly religious terms. The account continues,
Now that the city was taken, it was well worth all our previous labors and hardships to see the devotion of the pilgrims at the Holy Sepulchre. How they rejoiced and exulted and sang a new song to the Lord! For their hearts offered prayers of praise to God, victorious and triumphant, which cannot be told in words. A new day, new joy, new and perpetual gladness, the consummation of our labor and devotion, drew forth from all new words and new songs. This day, I say, will be famous in all future ages, for it turned our labors and sorrows into joy and exultation; this day, I say, marks the justification of all Christianity, the humiliation of paganism, and the renewal of our faith. “This is the day which the Lord bath made, let us rejoice and be glad in it,” for on this day the Lord revealed Himself to His people and blessed them.
On this day, the Ides of July, Lord Adhemar, Bishop of Puy, was seen in the city by many people. Many also testified that he was the first to scale the wall, and that he summoned the knights and people to follow him. On this day, moreover, the apostles were cast forth from Jerusalem and scattered over the whole world. On this same day, the children of the apostles regained the city and fatherland for God and the fathers. This day, the Ides of July, shall be celebrated to the praise and glory of the name of God, who, answering the prayers of His Church, gave in trust and benediction to His children the city and fatherland which He bad promised to the fathers. On this day we chanted the Office of the Resurrection, since on that day He, who by His virtue arose from the dead, revived us through His grace. So much is to be said of this.
The “Jersusalem” crosses they etched inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre can still be seen today.
While we do know that some of the crusaders risked their lives to protect civilians, most joined in the carnage and plunder. The stain left by this atrocity lingers to this day in minds of many Moslems. This may seem strange to Americans, but Americans in general have very, very short historical memories. This is probably because we are a new nation, and an immigrant nation. Many who came here wanted to make a clean break with the past. Also, Americans tend not to be rooted in the past with tradition, but look forward to the “next” thing. Most other societies, and perhaps especially the Mid-East have a much deeper sense of the past, a sense only exacerbated by the significant decline of Moslem power since the mid 16th century.
I related to the students that, in most of the “mountain disaster” books I have read that the problems occur when the climbers descend. We psychologically ramp ourselves up to reach the summit, and don’t always give as much thought to what comes next.
The crusaders faced a similar problem. They took vows to liberate Jerusalem, but not to stay and defend it. Many had been away from home for more then two years, and understandably wanted to return, having fulfilled their purpose. The west simply could not rally the manpower needed to hold the city, and in 1187 the Moslems retook it. Several more attempts to retake the city would again be made, the subject of our study next week.
The week before break we wrapped up our look at Teddy Roosevelt and the Progressive Era.
How did he begin the ‘modern’ presidency?
1. America’s rising power (I think China today is in the position America was 100-120 years ago) meant that they had a role on the world stage. Foreign policy is the purview of the executive, not the legislative branch. Inevitably then, the power of the presidency increased as our power relative to the rest of the world increased.
2. A united America would now think of themselves as ‘Americans’ instead of ‘Virginians,’ for example. In a sense, all the people elect the president, at least in a way that ‘the people’ do not elect senators from Maine. The formation of a nation would again, put focus inevitably on the presidency. Along with this, the ‘nationalization’ of industry would lead to a more national focus for media outlets. National news and national figures would take precedence over local ones.
There are many across the political spectrum who believe that presidential power needs to be curtailed and is out of line with the founders vision for a dominant legislature. Truly, there have been very few weak presidents since Roosevelt’s time in office. But those who want to curb executive power need to realize that presidential power takes place in a broad political, economic, and social context. To add to these factors, Roosevelt had an expansive view of executive power. For him, if the Constitution did not forbid it, he could do it. Roosevelt also believed in the government not so much as a threat to people, but as an extension of them. Government was the people’s steward, the sword point of the arm of the ‘people.’ This attitude led to a couple of groundbreaking actions taken:
Roosevelt believed in the establishment of national parks. Part of this was personal, as Roosevelt’s experience in the west transformed him. But part of it stemmed from his belief that the land did not belong to individuals, so much as to the nation at large. Land then, could be used only as it referred to the public at large (he did of course believe in private ownership as well). Having land set aside for the public fit right in with this vision. . .
As did his vision of corporate power and regulation. The economics of the Industrial Revolution concentrated enormous resources in the hands of a few. Are economic monopolies consistent with an American view of liberty? Well, that depends. If you see liberty as freedom from outside constraint, then there could be nothing inherently wrong with monopolies, provided they were honestly obtained. But Roosevelt saw monopolies as a threat to liberty. Monopolies limited the people’s ability to chose, and opened up the possibility that they could be exploited. Besides, monopolies eliminated competition. As the students are reading for homework, Roosevelt believed that only a ‘Strenuous Life’ could make us great. Monopolies could lead to laziness, and in the end, national decline.
These issues raise important questions of constitutional interpretation. Does the Constitution proscribe a certain attitude towards federal power? What is the truest meaning of ‘liberty?’ How should we balance individual liberty with the rights of others? I enjoyed our discussions on these questions, and we related them to the recent controversies surrounding the new body scans at airports.
This also led to a broader discussion of capitalism itself. Many ‘classical’ economists look with fondness back to the pre-Roosevelt era as the heyday of a more pure capitalism. This provided an opportunity to consider capitalism itself. I wanted to place special focus. I wanted us to consider the following:
1. Does capitalism share common ancestry with Darwinism? Both rose to prominence at about the same time. Both stress that it is through competition that we progress. Both shed few tears over those whom competition eliminates. Both, curiously enough, have a certain fatalism to them in their purest form, one of class strife, the other of the invisible hand of the market. Fatalism, no matter the form it takes, is usually a sign of exhaustion or boredom, whether in the individual or the civilization. C.S. Lewis argued in ‘Mere Christianity’ that a fully Christian economic system would resemble socialism or communism in some key ways (see his ‘Social Morality’ chapter in that book if you are curious). Taking a different rout. a Christian defense of certain key free market principles can be found here.
Others would counter that while the free market of the Industrial Revolution had its problems and inequalities, surely the end result proved beneficial? The western world saw unprecedented economic growth and the rise of a truly broad based middle class that is still the foundation of modern democracies. When all was said and done, standards of living increased, and more people had access to more goods than ever before.
But that still begs the question: Does the free market promote Darwinism? Or, as Milton Friedman has argued, is it one of the best indirect promoters of personal freedom? Or is it, as Philip Bobbitt and Guido Calabresi argued in their book ‘Tragic Choices,’ a method whereby society sometimes avoids hard decisions and puts them in the hands of ‘the market?’
2. If there are links between Darwinism and capitalism, what does that do to our interpretation of capitalism? Do we affirm it in full, believing that Darwin may have latched onto a truth about existence? Or does the market need regulated, or ‘softened’ to inject more community oriented values?
3. What might the doctrine of the Trinity have to do with this question? With God we have community (1 God) and individuality (3 Persons) cohering in their fullness simultaneously. We, however, are finite, and so we cannot experience both individuality and community in their fullness simultaneously. Being made in the image of God, we desire and need both. Might much of our political debates, both then and now, be helpfully viewed through this prism? How should a society’s economic structure reflect both individual and community values? Where should the emphasis lie?
Finally, towards the end of the week we looked at some aspects of Progressive Era culture. Each society has its values and cannot help but give expression to those values, consciously or otherwise. Here is an image of the city of Chicago ca. 1900
The plan of the city bears all the hallmarks of the Progressive Era. The design is effecient, ‘scientific,’ and rational. The design allows the city to be easily navigable to outsiders, reflecting the increasing sense of national over local identity. Other cities would follow Chicago in their design, and thus cities could be like chain restaurants, more or less the same wherever one went. Here is an image of St. Louis from about the same time:
Naturally this efficiency of design helped the flow of goods to and from other cities. The links between cities and regions of the country grew easier to forge and thus became stronger. To get a sense of the difference and meaning behind the change, here is an image of Philadelphia ca. 1750:
Granted, it’s not as if Philadelphia had no order to it, but the sense of standardization is less.
This is one Belloc’s most famous works, and should be read by students of Medieval history, though it is far too polemical to serve as ‘the’ text for the period.
To understand the book we should understand a bit about Belloc himself. Born of an English mother and a French father, Belloc moved easily in both societies but perhaps felt at home in neither. He served in the French army, but got his education in England. His strong and unwavering Catholicism definitely made him enemies, especially in England. He may have felt some alienation, but he loved good fights, and had no trouble finding them.
One must also glimpse the context of when he wrote this book for it to make sense. I have not read a lot of his histories but he seemed to me have an eternal hatred against 1) The prevailing Whig interpretation of history, which saw history as one long climb out of the darkness in the wake of Rome towards the glorious & inevitable light of Victorian English society, and 2) The then-current Darwin influenced racial interpretations of European history, which saw all things good in Europe, from its “energy,” to its representative governments coming from the all-holy Nordic-Teutonic racial stock. When he published this book W.W. I had done much to undermine the first premise, but tragically the second was still gaining steam (Belloc gets high marks for his early and strident criticism of Nazi ideology even before they came into power).
The book makes several different arguments, all around a central theme, that of the essential unity of Europe.
He first mentions that one cannot understand European history without understanding the importance of Christian belief and the theology and history of the Church. He takes as a type the example of the encounter between Henry II and St. Thomas Beckett. To one outside this understanding Beckett’s attempt to try and stop Henry II from having legal jurisdiction over priests seems obstructionist and archaic at best. Those inside see that Beckett may not have chosen the best issue to plant his flag, but he fought ultimately for the freedom and independence of the Church from the state. Without a free Church, no people can be free in a spiritual or political sense. If you miss this, you cannot make heads or tails of Beckett or Henry II.
Europe’s history begins, not with Rome’s fall, but from the Roman conquest of Gaul. Nearly every historian will claim that Europe grew from seeds planted by Rome. Belloc goes much further and argues for a great deal of continuity between the late Empire and the early Middle Ages. And this is no mere difference of degree, but of overall perspective and purpose. He argues that the pseudo-racial theory of hardy German barbarians sweeping down from the north to end Rome has no basis in fact whatsoever. In denying a cataclysmic end to Rome from without, we can find more Roman, and not barbarian influence, in the society that succeeded Rome, and thus more continuity in the European experience.
True, Rome incorporated barbarians into their army, and towards the end accelerated their progressivism and made many with barbarian ancestry high ranking officials and generals. Alaric of the famous 410 sack of Rome was one such man. He did not come to destroy Rome so much as claim his rightful place in it. The Battle of Adrianople in 378 stands as another such case. Many different types of Alaric’s throughout the waning phase of Rome fought each other, but for supremacy to rule what they held dear. None of them dreamt of destroying the empire’s unity, otherwise what would they rule over?
Radagaisus’ invasion, contemporary with Alaric’s turn on Rome, helps Belloc’s point as well. For here we have a large truly barbarian force decisively beaten by the Roman army at a time when Romans were supposed to be “soft” and “decadent.” Rome did not fall due to barbarian invasions.
This early section is the clearest and perhaps strongest of the book, but then I think he goes too far. Perhaps carried away by the fight and the truths he latches onto, he buys into the idea that we cannot really speak of a decisive “fall” of Rome at all. Instead we should envision and steady, gradual transition from one way of life to another, like easing into a hot-tub. His theory couldn’t have credence if it had no truth to it, and Belloc cites some linguistic and administrative evidence to back it up. But to my mind he goes too far, for a great deal of different evidence shows a large drop off in other kinds of measures of health and well-being, like travel, trade, navigation, writing, etc. We need not conclude that if Rome did not fall to barbarians, that it had no fall at all.
Belloc then moves on to discuss certain key aspects of the medieval church, specifically their fight against central authority. They sought spiritual unity, not political unity, for no man can serve two masters. He also points out that the Christianity developed in such a way to become to very essence of Europe. We might speak of Stoicism, but not Christism. Christianity for medievals formed not “a way of life,” but the essence of life, with the Church’s life inseparable from that of any individual.
Belloc never lived to see Vatican II, and that may have been a blessing. He was an old-school absolute Catholic in every respect, so he had no love for the Reformation, which he holds responsible for destroying the 1500 year unity of the continent.
First, his argument:
1. The medieval synthesis faced enormous challenges from within and without. From without, the Black Plague, the march of Islam, etc. all put enormous pressure upon society. From within, the natural waxing and waning of any civilization’s ethos was in a waning period, and thus medieval society found itself unable to deal with these challenges. Belloc writes, “The spiritual hunger of the time was not fed. [Society’s] extravagance was not exposed to solvent of laughter or the flame of sufficient indignation.”
Belloc admits that the 15th century had many problems, and many from different quarters talked of the need for reform.
2. But he believes that the Reformation had nothing particularly positive to offer. Protestantism had an essentially negative and narrowing character, as each sect picked its pet doctrines and blew them out of their natural proportion.
3. The Reformation would have petered out had it not been for England. Before England, nearly everywhere the Reformation took hold stool outside the old Roman empire (Germany, Scandinavia, Switzerland), and thus outside the essential Roman unity of Europe, which the Reformation could not challenge. England’s defection not only meant that a powerful independent country could lend support to the cause, but most crucially, it broke the pattern of those within Rome’s ancient reach maintaining fidelity to unity, which gave legitimacy to the Reformation as a whole. Again, without this, he believes the Reformation would have gone the way of Arianism.
4. The Reformation sprang from some noble motives, but ended up severing the soul of Europe. In breaking the spiritual unity, they altered the place of the individual, with terrible results. Belloc writes,
The grand effect of the Reformation was isolation of the soul. This was its fruit. In the first place and underlying all, the isolation of the soul releases in society a furious new accession of force. The breakup of any stable system in physics, as in society, makes actual a prodigious reserve of potential energy.
This isolation produced a society that swayed from one desperate void-filling attempt to another. They went from
Worship of absolute civil governments, which began in Protestant areas and found its way into France
A desperate pursuit of knowledge (i.e. Scientific Revolution)
A flight first to reason (Englightenment), then to emotion (Romanticism), which having exhausted itself, left us only to pursue money and material gain (unbridled capitalism in the Industrial Revolution, which Belloc regards as a great evil).
What can we make of Belloc’s arguments?
Belloc has much to praise about the Renaissance, stating that the era continued much of the great things medievals started. But during the Renaissance many of the things Belloc deplores had their origin, like the banking empire of the Catholic (nominally?) D’Medici’s, or the exaltation of the political sphere in Machiavelli.
Surely also the Church’s political maneuvering during the Middle Ages contributed to the problem of spiritual sterility in the 15th century. They played a tight game of fostering political disunity while trying to enhance overall spiritual unity. But this put them in the position of helping to create the monster that destroyed them, for in the end the political disunity they fostered became a tool for the Reformation to use to their advantage. It also made the Catholic Church part of the troubled system. Not standing outside it, they could offer no solution.
He asserts that the Reformation had an almost exclusively negative character, but misses the positive aspects of some reformers, notably Luther. Clearly the Reformation also produced some great culture, Bach, Rembrandt, etc.
To accept a Refomation = Bad, Renaissance = Good argument, one must believe in the basic continuity between the Medieval & Renaissance eras. But I think that more discontinuity presents itself, that the Renaissance began at least the aesthetic narrowing of Europe that the early Reformation built upon.
To his great credit, Belloc admits the ultimate spiritual sterility of even the greatest Catholic humanist voices, like that of Erasmus. Whether justified or no, the Reformation filled a spiritual vacuum that the Catholic church could not fill in the state it was in.
Finally, the Catholic church did its fair share of pushing Luther out of the fold. They helped create the Reformation. One could go farther and claim that the Reformation gave the Church a needed kick in the seat of their pants to get their own house in order. The Catholic revival of the mid-late 16th century (which produced such great witnesses as St. John of the Cross and St. Francis de Sales, among others) might not have happened without the Reformation.
So all in all, I do not believe that the Reformation deserves the treatment Belloc gives it. But I agree with him that the Reformation exacerbated some key negative trends within Europe at the time, and that the lasting fruit of the Reformation is a mixed bag. It did not heal Europe’s wounds — in some cases it opened them further, and did contribute (without being the only contributor) to many of our modern problems. One can assert the necessity of the Reformation, but I would not want to make it into a golden age that “rescued” the Church and Europe. Also, when thinking about Europe Belloc leaves the East out of the discussion entirely, and so gives no credence at all to the possibility of a third path in Eastern Orthodoxy.
Fast forward to today, and I can’t help wondering what Belloc would think of the European Union. Would he applaud it as the beginning of the healing of the harms began (in his view) during the Reformation? I think not, and I imagine his reaction going something like,
Europe has recognized what Napoleon also saw, that every war in Europe had the quality of a civil war. So, kudos to them for seeing the problem.
But — they look for a cure in all the wrong places. First, they have tried to impose unity in an administrative, “top-down” style where the people have little direct say in important policies. Such an approach is bound to fail.
Second, they fail to recognize that from ca. 500 AD on, Europe had spiritual unity but never administrative and political unity. Thus, they try to give Europe what it never had at the expense of what held them together in the first place. Their focus almost exclusively on trade, currency, monetary policy, etc. shows their blindness to the true problems they face.
Belloc states in his famous conclusion to the book,
As I mentioned here, I believe that art reveals a great deal about a civilization. This is decidedly not a radical concept, but I always enjoy coming across things that confirm that premise in one way or another.
We can trace Rome’s decline, I think in the sculptured busts over the centuries. The faces say it all.
First, the hard-bitten men of the Republic, Cato the Elder, and Scipio Africanus Major, ca. 200 B.C. You may not have liked them, but you would have respected them:
Then, Julius Caesar, ca. 50 B.C. — the expression, the eyes, are different — hungrier. He seems part machine, part man, a shark on the prowl. The basic humanity of Rome’s leaders begins to fade here.
Then Augustus, ca. 10 B.C. — we see a clean break with the past. He is an image, not a man. Unlike his uncle, Augustus was hardly the military type, yet here he poses in military garb. On the right is the soft Emperor Domitian, ca. A.D. 90:
Fast forward and we get the pompous, detached Marcus Aurelius (ca. AD 165, below left), and his son Commodus (ca. AD 190, below right) who went native. Aurelius’s stoic philosophy of detachment comes through every pore, and his admiration for the Greek style in his facial hair may signal that his mind lay elsewhere. Commodus, dressed as Hercules, also gets caught up in this Greek sense of unreality. Like father, like son.
The Emperor Philip, ca. AD 250.
Here we have a relatable man again for the first time in centuries, but we, and Philip too, know it’s too late.
The smug, satisfied look of Marcus Aurelius has got to be the worst of them all. Similar perhaps to this guy?
Yes, I know that Robespierre was really wicked while Aurelius was merely insufferable. But still. . .
particular episode in Bach’s life representative of this shift in his Evening in the Palace of Reason. Bach, the great Baroque composer, received an invitation to visit Frederick the Great of Prussia, the great Enlightment monarch. Their brief meeting led to Bach composing “A Musical Offering,” considered by some to be his greatest instrumental work, and a definitive statement of his theological and musical convictions.
A Stick in the Mud 