Catholic Philosophy

V and VI Centuries

The fifth century was marked by barbarian invasions and the fall of the Western Empire. After the death of Augustine in 430, philosophical thought nearly vanished; this was a century of destructive actions that significantly shaped the paths on which Europe would develop. It was during this century that the Angles invaded Britain, transforming it into England; similarly, the Frankish invasion turned Gaul into France, while the Vandals invaded Spain, giving their name to Andalusia. In the middle of this century, St. Patrick converted the Irish to Christianity. Across the Western world, the centralized bureaucracy of the empire was supplanted by loose Germanic kingdoms. The imperial postal system ceased to exist, major roads fell into disrepair, wars brought an end to extensive trade, and life, both politically and economically, retreated into local confines. The central apparatus of governance persisted only within the Church, and even here it struggled greatly.

Among the Germanic tribes that invaded the Empire in the fifth century, the Goths were the most significant. They were pushed westward by the Huns, who had attacked them from the east. Initially, the Goths attempted to conquer the Eastern Empire but were defeated; consequently, they turned toward Italy. Since the time of Diocletian, the Goths had served Rome as mercenaries, allowing them to gain greater familiarity with military arts than other barbarians could attain under different circumstances. Alaric, the king of the Goths, sacked Rome in 410 but died the same year. Odoacer, the king of the Ostrogoths, ended the existence of the Western Empire in 476; he ruled until 493 when he was treacherously killed by another Ostrogoth, Theodoric, who remained king of Italy until 526. I shall soon have reason to elaborate on him. Theodoric left a notable mark both in history and in legendary tales; in the Nibelungen cycle, he is referred to as "Dietrich of Bern" (where "Bern" refers to Verona).

Meanwhile, the Vandals established themselves in Africa, the Visigoths in the south, and the Franks in northern France. At the height of the Germanic invasions, the Empire came under attack from the Huns, led by Attila. Though the Huns belonged to the Mongolian race, they often allied with the Goths. However, at a critical moment, when the Huns invaded Gaul in 451, they found themselves in conflict with the Goths; together, the Goths and Romans inflicted a defeat upon them that same year in the Battle of Châlons. Following this, Attila turned his sights toward Italy and considered a march on Rome, but he was dissuaded from this by Pope Leo, who pointed out that Alaric died after sacking Rome. Yet Attila's clemency proved futile, for he died the following year, and after his death, the Hunnic empire disintegrated.

Amidst this period of chaos, the Church was embroiled in a convoluted dispute regarding the Incarnation. The primary antagonists in this polemic were two clerics—Cyril and Nestorius—of whom, through circumstance more than merit, the former was declared a saint and the latter a heretic. St. Cyril was the Patriarch of Alexandria (a position he held from around 412 until his death in 444); Nestorius was the Patriarch of Constantinople. The dispute centered on the relationship between the divine and human natures of Christ. Did two persons—one human and the other divine—exist within him? This was Nestorius's position. If not, was only one nature incarnate in Christ, or did both human and divine natures coexist within a single person? In the fifth century, these questions incited such passions and fury that they seem almost incredible. “A secret and irreconcilable discord separated those who were horrified by the thought of the divinity and humanity of Christ being confused, from those who feared the notion of them being divided.”

St. Cyril, a champion of unity, was a man of fanatical zeal. He used his position as Patriarch to incite riots against a substantial Jewish community in Alexandria. However, the chief act that earned him infamy was the lynching of Hypatia, an eminent woman who adhered to Neoplatonism in her time and dedicated her talents to mathematics. “Hypatia was dragged from her chariot, stripped naked, and taken to the church; a reader named Peter, along with a crowd of wild and inhuman fanatics, brutally beat her, scraping her flesh from her bones with oyster shells, and cast her trembling body into the fire. The timely distribution of monetary gifts halted the investigation and spared the guilty from deserved punishment.” After this event, philosophers ceased to trouble Alexandria.

St. Cyril was deeply grieved to learn that Constantinople had been led astray by the teachings of his rival, Patriarch Nestorius, who asserted that two persons—one human and one divine—were embodied in Christ. On this basis, Nestorius condemned the new custom of referring to the Virgin Mary as "Mother of God," claiming she was merely the mother of the human person, while the divine person, who was God, had no mother. Over this issue, the Church became divided: roughly speaking, the bishops to the east of Suez supported Nestorius, while those to the west supported St. Cyril. A council was convened to address the matter, with sessions scheduled to occur in Ephesus in 431. The Western bishops arrived first, locked the doors against the latecomers, and hastily rendered a decision in favor of St. Cyril, who presided over the council. This “clamorous assembly of bishops… now appears to us, after the passage of thirteen centuries, as the venerable Third Ecumenical Council.” The outcome of this council was the condemnation of Nestorius as a heretic. However, he did not repent but founded a sect of Nestorians that gained numerous followers in Syria and throughout the East. Several centuries later, Nestorianism became so strong in China that it seemed poised to become the state religion. In India, Spanish and Portuguese missionaries found Nestorians even in the sixteenth century. The persecutions suffered by the Nestorians under the Catholic government of Constantinople resulted in discontent that facilitated the Muslim conquest of Syria.

Nestorius’s eloquent rhetoric, which seduced so many, was said to have been eaten away by worms—at least that is what we are assured. Ephesus accepted that the cult of Artemis was replaced by that of the Virgin Mary but continued to harbor the same fervent devotion to its goddess as in the days of St. Paul. It was said that here, in Ephesus, the Virgin Mary was buried. In 449, after St. Cyril's death, a synod gathered in Ephesus attempted to go even further in its triumph and, as a consequence, fell into the opposite heresy to Nestorianism known as Monophysitism, which asserts that Christ possesses only one nature. Had St. Cyril lived to witness the Ephesus synod, he would undoubtedly have supported this view and thus have become a heretic. The emperor supported the synod, but the pope categorically refused to acknowledge its decision. The matter culminated in Pope Leo—he who dissuaded Attila from attacking Rome—securing the convocation of an Ecumenical Council in Chalcedon in the year of the Battle of Châlons (451), which condemned the Monophysites and definitively established the orthodox doctrine of the Incarnation. The Ephesus Council determined that in Christ only one person is incarnate, while the Chalcedon Council asserted that he exists in two natures: one human and the other divine. The influence of the pope was a decisive factor in ensuring the acceptance of this resolution.

Monophysites, like the Nestorians, refused to yield. Egypt almost entirely embraced their heresy, which spread to the Nile and even penetrated into Abyssinia. The heresy of Egypt, akin to the opposite heresy of Syria, facilitated the Arab conquest. The Abyssinian heresy was later exploited by Mussolini as one of the pretexts for invading their country.

The sixth century produced four figures who played a significant role in the history of culture: Boethius, Justinian, Benedict, and Gregory the Great. They will be the primary subjects of the remainder of this chapter and the entire next chapter.

The Gothic conquest of Italy did not entirely obliterate Roman civilization. Under Theodoric, king of Italy and the Goths, the civil administration of Italy consisted solely of Romans; Italy enjoyed peace and religious tolerance (almost until the end of his reign); the king combined wisdom with strength. He appointed consuls, preserved Roman law, and upheld the existence of the Senate; during his visits to Rome, he primarily visited the Senate building.

Despite being an Arian, Theoderic maintained good relations with the church until the last years of his reign. However, in 523, Emperor Justin declared Arianism illegal, which incited Theoderic's fury. He had cause for fear, for Italy adhered to Catholicism, and its religious sympathies urged it to side with the emperor. Theoderic became convinced—whether justifiably or not—that a conspiracy was formed against him, involving members of his own government. This led to the arrest and execution of his minister, the senator Boethius, whose book "The Consolation of Philosophy" was written during his imprisonment.

Boethius is a highly distinctive figure. Throughout the Middle Ages, he was read and venerated, consistently regarded as a pious Christian, almost treated as a church father. In reality, however, Boethius's work "The Consolation of Philosophy," written in 524 while he awaited execution, is steeped in a distinctly Platonic spirit; it does not prove that Boethius was not a Christian, but it clearly indicates that pagan philosophy had a far greater influence on him than Christian theology. Several theological writings attributed to Boethius, notably the treatise on the doctrine of the Trinity, are recognized as forgeries by many authorities; yet, it seems that precisely due to these works, the Middle Ages were able to consider Boethius an orthodox thinker, adopting many elements of Platonism that would otherwise have raised suspicion.

The book consists of alternating poetic and prose passages: Boethius speaks in prose while philosophy responds in verse. This somewhat resembles Dante, whom Boethius undoubtedly influenced in the "Vita Nuova."

The work "The Consolation of Philosophy," which Gibbon rightly calls "an invaluable piece," opens with the assertion that Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle are the true philosophers; whereas the Stoics, Epicureans, and others are usurpers whom the ignorant masses mistakenly accept as friends of philosophy. Boethius claims he obeyed the Pythagorean command to "follow God" (note that he does not say the Christian command). Happiness, aligned with bliss, is a good, not mere pleasure. Friendship is acknowledged as "the holiest possession." Much of Boethius's moral teachings align perfectly with Stoic doctrine, and many are indeed borrowed from Seneca. A brief summary of the initial sections of "Timaeus" is presented in verse form. This is followed by an extensive exposition of pure Platonic metaphysics. Imperfection, Boethius asserts, is a deficiency that implies the existence of a perfect exemplar. He accepts the negative theory of evil, according to which evil consists in the absence of a positive principle. He then shifts to pantheism, which should horrify Christians but, for some reason, does not. Bliss and God, declares Boethius, are the two highest goods and therefore identical. "Men attain happiness by achieving divine qualities."—"Those who achieve divine qualities become gods. Thus, every happy person is a god; indeed, by nature, there exists only one God, yet through participation, there is nothing to prevent many beings from becoming gods." "The unity, origin, and cause of all that humans aspire to are rightly deemed to reside in virtue." Can God create evil? No. Therefore, evil is nothing, for God can create all things. The virtuous are always powerful, while the wicked are always weak, for both thirst for good, yet only the virtuous may attain it. Those mired in vice are more unfortunate when they escape punishment than when they endure it. (Note that this could not be said of punishment in hell.) "In wise men, there is no room for hatred."

The tone of the book bears greater resemblance to the tone of Plato's writings than to that of Plotinus. Boethius displays no trace of the superstitious notions or the morbid sensibility of his era; he is not possessed by a sense of sin nor does he strain excessively to reach the unattainable. The book is imbued with complete philosophical tranquility—so serene that if it were written at the height of prosperity, we might almost reproach Boethius for self-satisfaction. Yet written under the conditions in which it was indeed created—in prison, by a man condemned to death—Boethius's book is as beautiful as the final moments of Socrates.

Similar views can be found in literature no earlier than the post-Newtonian era. I shall present in full one poem, which philosophically resembles Pope's "Essay on Man":

If you wish to understand the laws of peace,
The reasoning of the thunderer,
Look to the very heights of heaven.
For the fire-winged Phœbus does not hinder
The icy chariot of the moon,
Nor does the she-bear, which in the zenith
Curves in a sudden leap,
Desire to drown the stars of sunset
In the ocean's deepest depths.
She does not wish to plunge them into flames.
Each evening's shadows,
Proclaiming to us Vesper, followed by
Lucifer—his blessed day.
Thus mutual love governs
The eternal order of the Universe,
No discord amidst the heavenly stars.
All elements live in harmony—
Land with sea, warmth and cold—
Yielding alternately
To one another's path.
To heaven, fire ascends easily,
While earth descends heavily.
For in fragrant springtime,
Everything around breathes aroma,
Summer dries with heat, Ceres,
Autumn pays in full with fruits,
And winter lashes with downpours.
All that lives, that breathes in the world—
By this rational measure, it thrives.
And all that gives us life—
All is finally taken by death.
Yet in the meantime, the hand
Of the Almighty Creator firmly holds the reins,
King, sovereign, source of life—
He is the just judge of all.
Instigator of motion, support
For the lost and the unstable.
If he does not guide
The body back onto its rightful orbits,
Then this steadfast order
Would immediately shatter at its very core.
To all creatures, love is inherent;
All eternally strive towards good,
As to the only conceivable goal.
They cannot live otherwise
Than to reach the foundations of existence.

Boethius remained a friend of Theoderic until the end. His father was a consul, he himself was a consul, and both his sons were consuls as well. Boethius's father-in-law, Symmachus (likely a grandson of that Symmachus who clashed with Ambrose over the statue of Victory), played an important role at the court of the Gothic king. Theoderic employed Boethius to reform the monetary system, as well as to impress less experienced barbarian kings with such marvels as solar and water clocks. It is quite possible that the freedom from superstitions was not such an exceptional phenomenon in Roman aristocratic families as it was in any other milieu; however, the combination of this freedom with great learning and zeal for the public good was an extraordinary occurrence in that age. Over an enormous span, covering the two preceding and ten succeeding centuries, I cannot name a single European scholar who was as free from superstition and fanaticism as Boethius. His merits were not merely negative; his worldview was majestic, impartial, and elevated. Boethius would have adorned any age, but for the age in which he lived, he is an especially remarkable figure.

The medieval reputation of Boethius was partly sustained by the belief that he was a martyr who suffered from the persecution of the Arians—a view that emerged two or three centuries after his death. In Pavia, Boethius was even regarded as a saint, although he was never canonized. What a curious irony: Cyril was deemed a saint, yet there was no place for Boethius in the ranks of the holy!

Two years after Boethius’s execution, Theodoric also passed away. The following year, Justinian ascended to the throne, ruling until 565. During his lengthy reign, he managed to inflict considerable harm and achieve some good. Justinian’s glory primarily rests upon his “Digest,” yet I refrain from delving into this topic, which falls within the purview of legal scholars. He was a man of profound piety, as evidenced by his closure of the philosophical schools in Athens two years after ascending the throne—schools that continued to uphold paganism. The expelled philosophers journeyed to Persia, where they received a gracious welcome from the Shah. However, they were horrified—more so than would befit philosophers, as Gibbon notes—by the Persian customs of polygamy and incest, leading them to return home, where they faded into obscurity.

Three years after this endeavor (in 532), Justinian undertook another, far more commendable: the construction of the Hagia Sophia. I have yet to see the Hagia Sophia, but I have admired the astonishing mosaics from that era in Ravenna, including portraits of Justinian and his wife, Empress Theodora. Both were noted for their remarkable piety, despite Theodora being a woman of ill repute whom Justinian had taken from the circus. Worse still, she leaned toward Monophysitism.

But enough of gossip. The Emperor himself, I am pleased to assert, exhibited impeccable orthodoxy, except in the matter of the “Three Chapters.” This was a contentious debate. The Council of Chalcedon recognized the orthodox views of three Church Fathers suspected of Nestorianism; Theodora, along with many others, accepted all the council’s decrees except for this one. The Western Church steadfastly upheld all the council’s pronouncements, leading the empress to engage in a struggle with the Pope. Justinian was utterly devoted to his Theodora, and after her death in 548, she became for him what her late husband was for Queen Victoria. Ultimately, this even led Justinian to heresy. His contemporary, the historian Evagrius, wrote: “Having received the retribution for his misdeeds at the end of his life, he sought the justice he had earned at the judgment seat of Hell.”

Justinian aimed to restore to the Empire all the territories of the Western Empire that could be reclaimed from the barbarians. In 535, he invaded Italy and initially achieved swift successes against the Goths. The Catholic population warmly welcomed Justinian, and he entered Italy as Rome’s representative against the barbarians. However, the Goths regrouped, and the war dragged on for 18 years, during which Rome and Italy as a whole suffered far more than during the entire period of barbarian invasions.

Rome changed hands five times—three times seized by the Byzantines and twice by the Goths—becoming reduced to the status of a mere town. A similar situation unfolded in Africa, which Justinian also managed to reclaim to some extent from the barbarians. Initially, his armies were met with enthusiastic receptions, but the population soon became disillusioned by the corruption of the Byzantine administration and the burdensome taxation imposed by the Byzantines. Eventually, many inhabitants yearned for the return of the Goths and Vandals. The Church, however, steadfastly supported the emperor as the representative of orthodoxy until the last years of Justinian's reign. Justinian made no attempts to reclaim Gaul, partly due to the distance but also because the Franks adhered to orthodoxy themselves.

In 568, three years after Justinian's death, Italy faced an invasion from a new and exceptionally fierce Germanic tribe—the Lombards. The wars between them and the Byzantines continued, intermittently, for two hundred years, nearly until the time of Charlemagne. Gradually, the Byzantines lost one possession in Italy after another; in the south, they also had to confront the Saracens. Formally, Rome remained subject to Byzantium, and the popes treated the Eastern emperors with due respect. However, over much of Italy, after it was invaded by the Lombards, the emperors retained very little power, if any at all. It was during this period that Italian civilization met its demise. Venice was founded by fugitives from territories occupied by the Lombards, rather than by refugees fleeing Attila, as tradition suggests.