Fragment from Episode 4 of The Age of the Cathedrals
Georges Duby discusses the origins of science, with a particular focus on Pierre Abélard and the concept of ‘reasoning.’ During the broadcast, he pulls a sheet of paper from his pocket containing a quote from Historia Calamitatum about Abélard’s teaching method and reads it aloud. A standout moment on Antenne 2 (France) in 1980—still well worth watching, listening to, and reflecting on today. (English subtitles (cc) ; full text below the fragment.)
TRANSCRIPT (translation plus…)
“The construction of the cathedrals (at a rapid pace in the late 12th and early 13th centuries) was made possible by the growth of the urban economy. Certainly. But at the same time it is also due to another growth, which is inextricably linked to the first: the growth of knowledge (savoir). After all, every cathedral is flanked by a school, and the most dynamic schools are located around the cathedrals in Northern France. Certainly, lessons were also given in monasteries, but the monastery school was closed, the cathedral school was open. That has to do with its function. The cathedral is – by definition – the church of the bishop. The primary function of the bishop is (yes, really! DW) the proclamation of the Word of God and not only in his own church, no, in his entire diocese. He needs helpers, to preach with him. And therefore workshops (ateliers) to train preachers, to educate them. That implied good books (manuscripts), good teachers who could explain these books. And: in a society where travel became increasingly easy, we see intellectual adventurers roaming Europe in search of the best schools. These were precisely where the masterpieces of Gothic art were built: in Laon, Chartres, and Paris. I do not think it is a coincidence that the locations of these intellectual research centers coincide with the hotbeds of artistic creation (artistic = everything that man ‘adds’ to nature: skill, craft, artisanal art)
The cycle of study was the same as in the “first Renaissance” (under Charlemagne), the seven liberal arts – the artes liberales. These can be seen on one of the rose windows of the cathedral of Laon, where they surround the central flower where Wisdom sits enthroned. They form her court, enriching and enlightening. The seven artes consisted of three introductory disciplines: grammar (language), rhetoric (the art of speaking) and dialectic (the art of reasoning), followed by four more in-depth disciplines: the study of numbers, geometry, astronomy and the science of the ‘tones of music’ (and their mutual relationship).
These disciplines revealed the mysterious laws that govern the universe. This path, this road, this boulevard of knowledge, ultimately led to theology – the highest science because it helped man to fathom the secrets of God that he communicates in what he says (his Word) and in the visible signs, scattered in nature.1
In the second half of the 12th century, the schools of Paris were extremely successful. They became the breeding ground for skilled bishops; all the popes of that time came to study there. This success was largely due to the teaching of Abélard2). They started with the language, the words, but dialectics was central: understanding the meaning of the words through reasoning. Not by meditating on them in mystical contemplation, as in the monastery, but by analyzing them. The intellectual tools became increasingly refined. Clergymen traveled with the knights who reconquered Spain and Sicily from the Muslims, and they threw themselves into the magnificent libraries of Toledo and Palermo. They began – together with/at the same time as the Jews – feverishly to translate Arabic works into Latin – works that the Arabs had in turn translated from Greek. What they thus revealed was ancient science: Euclid, Ptolemy, and even more valuable to them: the logic of Aristotle.
The method was refined, perfected and enriched by Abelard. The first step? Doubting! Abelard said: “we arrive at inquiry through doubt, and through inquiry we discover the truth.” Pride, arrogance… Some fiercely condemned this attitude, notably Bernard of Clairvaux, who ultimately brought Abelard down. But what fertility there was in this approach! What enthusiasm arose in the schools. It was no longer a matter of simply listening to lessons, but of discussion. Dialogue, dialectic, debate! “My students,” said Abelard, “want to hear human reasons, explanations that they understand; not propositions and affirmations.” They believed that talking (teaching) was useless, unless one also conveyed the understanding of what one wanted to say, and also that one could not believe anything unless one first understood it.3
Ils disaient qu’il est inutile de parler si l’on donne pas l’intelligence de ses propos et que nul ne peut croire s’il n’a pas d’abord compris. Et toute notre science sors de là…
Georges Duby, Le temps des cathédrales – TV-series – 9 episodes, aired 1980.
- Duby speaks in the film about the ‘laws of nature’. That is too strong, an anachronism too. In the book accompanying the film he writes: “et d’autres signes visibles, épars dans la nature.” I translated that.
- who himself had learned the trade in Laon from ‘Maître’ Anselm de Laon, whom he then of course ‘undermined’. You are a self-conscious dialectician or not
- Accidit autem mihi ut ad ipsum fidei nostre fundamentum humane rationis similitudinibus disserendum primo me applicarem, et quendam theologie tractatum De Unitate et Trinitate divina scolaribus nostris componerem, qui humanas et philosophicas rationes requirebant, et plus que intelligi quam que dici possent efflagitabant: dicentes quidem verborum superfluam esse prolationem quam intelligentia non sequeretur, nec credi posse aliquid nisi primitus intellectum, et ridiculosum esse aliquem aliis predicare quod nec ipse nec illi quos doceret intellectu capere possent, Domino ipso arguente quod ceci essent duces cecorum. (from Historia calamitatum, Epistle 1 (to a friend) from the correspendence with Héloïse, a literary fiction, based on facts and real texts, but this aside)