Scholastics

The Twelfth Century

The Development of Scholasticism

The emergence of scholasticism, in its narrower sense, can be traced to the beginning of the twelfth century. This philosophical school is characterized by several distinct traits. Firstly, scholasticism confines itself to the bounds of what is perceived by the writer as religious orthodoxy; if his views are condemned by an ecclesiastical council, he typically expresses a willingness to renounce them. This cannot solely be attributed to cowardice; such behavior is akin to submitting to a judge's decision following an appeal. Secondly, within the framework of orthodoxy, Aristotle increasingly comes to be recognized as the highest authority, his works becoming significantly more accessible during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries; meanwhile, Plato loses the preeminent position he once held. Thirdly, "dialectic" and the syllogistic method of reasoning garner considerable respect; in general, scholastics exhibit a penchant for nitpicking and a fondness for disputes rather than mysticism. Fourthly, the realization that Aristotle and Plato held differing views on universals brings this question to the forefront; however, it would be erroneous to assume that universals constituted the main problem for philosophers of that time.

The twelfth century, much like in other fields, paves the way for the following century, which is adorned with the greatest names in scholasticism. Nevertheless, earlier thinkers are intriguing as pioneers. The representatives of scholasticism display newfound confidence in their intellectual faculties and, despite their reverence for Aristotle, exhibit a free and assertive application of reason on all matters not deemed overly perilous by dogma. The shortcomings of the scholastic method are akin to those inevitable flaws that arise when emphasis is placed on "dialectic." These shortcomings include indifference to facts and science, a belief in the omnipotence of argument in matters that can only be resolved through observation, and an excessive emphasis on verbal distinctions and subtleties. We have already noted these shortcomings in connection with Plato, yet in scholasticism, they manifest in a far more extreme form.

The first philosopher to be considered a scholastic in the strict sense is Roscelin. Little is known about him. Roscelin was born in Compiègne around 1050 and taught in Laon, Brittany, where Abelard was his student. The Reims Council of 1092 accused Roscelin of heresy; fearing that church officials, eager for violence, would stone him to death, he renounced his views. Roscelin fled to England, but even there he proved reckless, clashing with St. Anselm. This time, he escaped to Rome, where he reconciled with the Church. Around 1120, Roscelin disappears from history; the date of his death remains purely conjectural.

Nothing remains of Roscelin's writings except for a single letter to Abelard concerning the dogma of the Trinity. In this letter, Roscelin, belittling Abelard, mocks his castration. Iberville, rarely expressing any sentiment, is prompted to note that Roscelin could not have been a very likable individual. Apart from this letter, Roscelin's views are primarily known through the polemical works of Anselm and Abelard. According to Anselm, Roscelin claimed that universals are merely flatus vocis, or "a puff of air." If taken literally, Roscelin's words suggest that a universal is a physical phenomenon occurring when we utter a word. However, it is difficult to presume that Roscelin would assert anything so absurd. Anselm further states that, according to Roscelin, a person is not a singular entity but merely a common name; this view, which Anselm, as a good Platonist, attributes to Roscelin’s belief that only sensory experiences constitute reality. Overall, it appears that Roscelin held the view that a whole, having parts, is itself devoid of real existence and exists solely as a word; the parts, however, are what genuinely exist. Such a view might have led him, or perhaps did lead him, to extreme atomism. In any case, it resulted in troubles concerning the interpretation of the Trinity. Roscelin maintained that the three divine persons are three distinct substances and that only ingrained habit prevents us from calling them Three Gods. The alternative, which he did not accept, was the position that not only the Son but also the Father and the Holy Spirit were incarnated. Concerning all these speculations, which were declared heretical, Roscelin renounced them at the Reims Council of 1092. Establishing Roscelin's true views on universals proves impossible; however, it is clear that he was a sort of nominalist.

Roscelin's student, Abelard (his surname is written as Abelard or Abailard), surpassed his teacher in both talent and renown. Born near Nantes in 1079, he studied in Paris under William of Champeaux (a realist) and then taught at the Cathedral School of Paris, where he opposed William's views and compelled him to modify them. For some time, Abelard devoted himself to the study of theology under the guidance of Anselm of Laon (not the archbishop), and then, in 1113, he returned to Paris, where he achieved extraordinary popularity as a teacher. During this period, Abelard became the beloved of Heloise, the niece of Canon Fulbert. At the behest of the canon, Abelard was castrated, and he and Heloise were compelled to retreat from the world: he to the monastery of Saint-Denis, she to the women's monastery of Argenteuil. According to the German scholar Schmeidler, the famous correspondence between Abelard and Heloise was entirely fabricated by Abelard himself and constitutes a literary invention. I do not consider myself competent to judge the validity of this theory, but there is nothing in Abelard’s character that would render it impossible. He was always marked by vanity, arrogance, and haughtiness; the misfortunes that befell him left him embittered and fostered a sense of humiliation. The letters from Heloise bear a much greater mark of piety than those of Abelard, and it is entirely plausible that he composed the letters to soothe his wounded pride.

Even in monastic seclusion, Abelard continued to enjoy immense success as a teacher. Young people were drawn to his brilliance, dialectical skill, and irreverent attitude toward other educators. Older individuals harbored mutual antipathy toward Abelard, and in 1121 he was condemned at the Council of Soissons for an unorthodox book on the dogma of the Trinity. Having expressed proper contrition, Abelard became the abbot of the monastery of Saint-Gildas in Brittany, whose monks he found to be coarse brutes. After four unhappy years in this exile, Abelard returned to a semblance of civilization. The further history of his life remains unknown, except that he continued to teach with remarkable success, as attested by John of Salisbury. In 1141, at the instigation of St. Bernard, Abelard was condemned once more, this time at the Council of Sens. He withdrew to Cluny, where he died the following year.

Abelard's most famous work, written between 1121 and 1122, is "Yes and No" (Sic et Non). In this work, he presents dialectical arguments both for and against a vast number of theses, often not even attempting to reach any conclusion; it is clear that he revels in the very process of dispute and regards it as a beneficial means of intellectual development. The book significantly influenced the awakening of people from their dogmatic slumber. Abelard's view, which posits dialectic (aside from Sacred Scripture) as the sole path to truth (though such a perspective cannot be accepted by any empiricist), had a positive impact in its time, diminishing the power of prejudice and encouraging the fearless application of reason. Abelard asserted that, aside from Sacred Scripture, nothing is infallible; even the apostles and the Church Fathers may err.

From a contemporary standpoint, Abelard placed too much emphasis on logic. Considering logic primarily a Christian science, he played on the origin of its name from the word "logos." "In the beginning was the Word," states the Gospel of John, and this, in Abelard's view, demonstrates the preeminent status of logic.

Peter Abelard played a pivotal role in the evolution of logic and the theory of knowledge. His philosophy is characterized by a critical analysis that is predominantly linguistic in nature. Concerning universals—what may be affirmed of many different things—Abelard posits that our assertions pertain not to things themselves but to words. In this regard, he aligns himself with nominalism. However, in his rebuttal to Roscelin, Abelard argues that "flatus vocis" is indeed a thing; thus, we assert not about the word as a physical phenomenon but about the word as a signifier of meaning. Here, Abelard invokes Aristotle, stating that things resemble one another, and this resemblance gives rise to universals. Yet the point of similarity between two akin things is not itself a thing; therein lies the fallacy of realism. Abelard expresses thoughts imbued with even greater hostility toward realism, suggesting that general concepts have no foundation in the nature of things but are distorted images of many particulars. Nevertheless, Abelard does not entirely reject Platonic ideas; they exist in the divine mind as archetypes for creation; indeed, they are God's "concepts."

All these reflections are undoubtedly remarkably insightful, regardless of their truth or error. The most contemporary discussions of the problem of universals have proven scarcely more fruitful in their outcomes.

Saint Bernard, whose sanctity did not augment his rather limited intellect, failed to comprehend Abelard and maligned him with unjust accusations. He claimed that Abelard speculated on the Trinity as Arius did, on grace as Pelagius, and on the nature of Christ as Nestorius; that when Abelard, laboring earnestly, sought to transform Plato into a Christian, he merely demonstrated his own paganism; moreover, that Abelard undermined the goodness of Christian doctrine by asserting that God could be fully known through human reason. In truth, Abelard never articulated this latter notion, always leaving ample space for faith, though, like Saint Anselm, he believed that the Trinity could be rationally demonstrated without recourse to revelation. It is true that at one time, Abelard equated the Holy Spirit with the Platonic World Soul, but as soon as this heretical view was brought to his attention, he renounced it. Perhaps the accusations of heresy directed at Abelard were not so much a consequence of his doctrines as they were a result of his abrasive character, for his habit of vilifying the priests of knowledge earned him the deepest enmity from influential figures.

Most scholars of that time were lesser devotees of dialectics than Abelard. There existed, particularly within the School of Chartres, a humanistic movement whose proponents admired antiquity and followed Plato and Boethius. Interest in mathematics reemerged: Adelard of Bath traveled to Spain in the early twelfth century, resulting in his translation of Euclid.

In contrast to the barren scholastic method, a strong mystical movement arose, led by Saint Bernard. His father was a knight who perished during the First Crusade. Bernard himself was a Cistercian monk, and in 1115, he became the abbot of the newly founded monastery at Clairvaux. He wielded immense influence over ecclesiastical politics: determining the fate of antipopes, combating heresy in Northern Italy and Southern France, wielding the weight of orthodoxy against overly audacious philosophers, and preaching the Second Crusade. In his attacks on philosophers, Bernard often achieved success; however, after his Second Crusade ended in catastrophe, he failed to secure the condemnation of Gilbert of Poitiers, who aligned his views with Boethius more than seemed permissible for a righteous destroyer of heresy. Though Bernard was a politician and a zealot, he was a man of sincere religious temperament, and his Latin hymns are distinguished by their profound beauty. Among those influenced by Bernard, mysticism gained increasing predominance until it morphed into something akin to heresy in the teachings of Joachim of Fiore (who died in 1202). Nevertheless, Joachim's influence belongs to a later period. Saint Bernard and his followers sought religious truth not through rational inquiry but through subjective experience and contemplation. Abelard and Bernard perhaps equally suffered from one-sidedness.

As a religious mystic, Bernard lamented the papacy's entanglement in worldly affairs and condemned secular power. Although Bernard was a preacher of the crusade, he seemingly overlooked the fact that waging war requires organization and cannot thrive solely on enthusiasm. Bernard mourned that human thoughts are consumed by "the law of Justinian rather than the law of the Lord." He recoiled at the notion of the pope defending his possessions through military might. The pope's concern should be religion, and he ought not to strive for the realities of power. However, this viewpoint in Bernard is conjoined with a boundless reverence for the pope, whom he refers to as "the prince of bishops, the successor of the apostles, the firstborn of Abel, the ruler of Noah, the patriarch of Abraham, the order of Melchizedek, the dignity of Aaron, the authority of Moses, the judgment of Samuel, the power of Peter, the anointing of Christ." The tangible result of Saint Bernard's endeavors was, without doubt, a significant augmentation of the papacy's power in secular matters.

John of Salisbury was not a significant thinker, yet his chronicle, founded on hearsay and gossip, serves as a valuable source for studying his time. John served as secretary to three archbishops of Canterbury, one of whom was Becket; he was a friend of Adrian IV; by the end of his life, he became the bishop of Chartres, where he died in 1180. In matters beyond faith, John was a man of skeptical disposition; he called himself an academic (in the sense that Saint Augustine uses the term). He held moderate esteem for kings: "An illiterate king is a crowned ass." John revered Saint Bernard but understood well that Bernard's attempt to reconcile Plato and Aristotle was doomed to failure. John admired Abelard but ridiculed his theory of universals, just as he did Roscelin's theory. John regarded logic as a useful introduction to science but deemed it itself a hollow and futile pursuit. He asserted that Aristotle could be surpassed even in logic; respect for ancient authors should not impede the critical application of reason. Plato remained for John "the king of all philosophers." He was personally acquainted with most scholars of his time and took a friendly part in scholastic debates. Upon visiting a philosophical school he had not entered for thirty years, John smiled to discover that they were still discussing the same problems. The atmosphere of the society in which he moved closely resembled that of common parlors in Oxford thirty years prior. By the end of John's life, cathedral schools had yielded to universities, and universities, at least in England, displayed a remarkable vitality of traditions from that time to the present day.

Throughout the twelfth century, translators gradually expanded the number of Greek texts available to Western scholars. There were three primary sources for such translations: Constantinople, Palermo, and Toledo. The most significant among these was Toledo, but translations originating from there were often rendered from Arabic rather than directly from Greek. In the second quarter of the twelfth century, Archbishop Raymond of Toledo founded a translation school whose activities proved highly fruitful. In 1128, Jacob of Venice translated the "Analytics," "Topics," and "Sophistic Refutations"; the "Second Analytics" appeared too difficult for Western philosophers. Henry Aristippus of Catania (who died in 1162) translated the dialogues "Phaedo" and "Meno," though his translations did not exert a direct influence. Whatever the incompleteness of knowledge regarding Greek philosophy in the twelfth century, scholars were aware that a substantial portion of it awaited discovery in the West, giving rise to a notable thirst for a deeper acquaintance with antiquity. The yoke of orthodoxy was not as severe as is sometimes believed; philosophers could always present their views in a book and later, if necessary, remove heretical passages after they had undergone thorough public discussion. Most philosophers of that time were French, and France held considerable significance for the Church as a counterbalance to the Empire. Whatever theological heresies may have arisen among philosophers, politically, all learned clerics maintained orthodox positions; this made the figure of Arnold of Brescia, an exception to the rule, particularly odious. In general, early scholasticism can be viewed politically as the offspring of the Church's struggle for power.