CHAPTER XVIII

THE TRANSITION FROM THE MIDDLE AGES TO THE RENAISSANCE

This intervening period--the twilight between the Middle Ages and the

dawn of the Modern World--needs a little further emphasis, from the very

fact that it is a period of transition and sheds light both on the time

before and the time after. On its emotional side it belonged to the

Middle Ages, on its intellectual side it belonged to the Modern World.

Its religion was essentially mediaeval. For instance, a religious wave

arose in Perugia, spread through Italy, and crossed the Alps. Hosts of

penitents, hundreds and thousands, lamenting, praying, scourging

themselves, went from city to city. Men, women, and children, barefoot,

walked by night over the winter's snow, carrying tapers, to find relief

for their emotional frenzy. These Flagellants were like a primitive

Salvation Army, and gave unconscious expression to the profound and

widespread discontent with the Church. Their actions, however, so

clearly exhibited religious mania that governments took alarm; the

hard-headed rulers of Milan erected six hundred gallows on their borders

and threatened to hang every Flagellant who came that way.

Other forms of religious sentiment were more rational, and expressed

themselves in passionate calls for peace between neighbours and

countrymen. Priests adjured the fighting cities to be friends: "Oh, when

will the day come that Pavia shall say to Milan, Thy people are my

people, and Crema to Cremona, Thy city is my city?" In Genoa, one

morning before daybreak, the church bells rang, and the astonished

citizens, huddling on their clothes, beheld their archbishop, surrounded

by his clergy with lighted candles, making the factional leaders swear

on the bones of St. John Baptist to lay aside their mutual hate. Gregory

X (1271-76) pleaded with the Florentine Guelfs to take back the banished

Ghibellines. "A Ghibelline is a Christian, a citizen, a neighbour; then,

shall these great names, all joined, yield to that one word, Ghibelline?

And shall that single word--an idle term for none know what it

means--have greater power for hate than all those three, which are so

clear and strong, for love and charity? And since you say that you have

taken up this factional strife for the sake of the Popes of Rome, now,

I, Pope of Rome, have taken back to my bosom these prodigal citizens of

yours, however far they may have offended, and putting behind me all

past wrongs, hold them to be my sons."[13] In consequence of Gregory's

passionate entreaty, one hundred and fifty leaders of each party met and

embraced on the sandy flats of the Arno.

The most famous of these emotional peace-makings was the work of a

Dominican monk of Vicenza. On a great plain just outside Verona, a vast

congregation assembled (a contemporary said 400,000 people), from all

the warring cities far and near, bishops, barons, burghers, artisans,

serfs, women, and children. The monk preached upon the text, "My peace I

give unto you." The great company beat their breasts, wept for

repentance and joy, and embraced one another. Then the friar raised the

crucifix and cried, "Blessed be he who shall keep this peace, and cursed

be he who shall violate it;" and the audience answered "Amen." It is

hardly necessary to say that these emotional peace-makings were soon

followed by martial emotions; freed prisoners were hurried back to

prison, the recalled were banished again, and sword and halberd were

picked up with appetites whetted by abstinence.

The intellectual side of this period is best represented by the

universities, which had sprung up in many of the North Italian cities in

the preceding century. The term university signified a guild of

students, and possessed many of the characteristics of our colleges. The

university was composed of students and professors, and governed itself.

It owned neither lands nor buildings, and in case of need could shift

its abode with little trouble. The students, at least in a great

university like that of Bologna whither young men flocked by thousands

from all Europe, were divided into two bodies, those from beyond the

Alps and Italians. These two bodies were subdivided into groups

according to their state or city. Each group elected representatives,

and these, together with special electors, elected the rector. This

representative body made a formal treaty with the town authorities, and

secured good terms, because the presence of a university, bringing

money and fame, was of great consequence to the town. The professors

were appointed by the students. At Bologna Roman law was the chief

study, and very famous jurists lectured there. We may remember that

Barbarossa had recourse to Bologna when he was in need of lawyers to

determine his Imperial rights. It was Roman law that attracted the great

concourse of students, for the growing needs of civilization made a

constant demand for men learned in the law; but other branches of

knowledge were also taught, theology, canon law, medicine, and

astrology, as well as the so-called _quadrivium_, music, arithmetic,

geometry, and astronomy.

The universities, although theology and canon law were taught in them,

distinctly represented the secular side of intellectual life. The

religious, at least the theological side, was represented by the Church,

and more particularly by those philosophers who devoted themselves to

that mixture of theology and philosophy known as scholasticism. The

greatest of them was Thomas Aquinas (1227-74), whose surname is derived

from a little village, Aquino, once existing near Monte Cassino in

Neapolitan territory. Aquinas lectured at various universities. His

great work, "Summa Theologiae," was a justification of the Roman Catholic

faith by an appeal to the reason and to science as then accepted. He

started on premises laid down by the Church, and justified all the

derivative doctrines by close logic and clear reasoning, as well as by

appeals to the Bible, to Aristotle, then deemed the possessor of all

knowledge, and to the Church fathers. His work is a complete exposition

of God, nature, and man, as conceived by mediaeval theology, and is still

taught by the Catholic Church as the true exposition of its doctrines.

The grateful Church canonized him, his treatise being the miracles he

had performed, and named him the Angelic Doctor. Those of us whose minds

have no natural aptitude for scholasticism, find his views on purely

earthly matters much easier to understand, and not uninteresting, as

they throw light on the democratic character of the Church. Speaking of

positive law, Aquinas says that it should consist of "reasonable

commands for the common good, promulgated by him who has charge of the

public weal;" and of kings, that "a prince who makes personal

gratification instead of the general happiness his aim, ceases to be

legitimate, and it is not rebellion to depose him, provided the attempt

shall not cause greater ills than his tyranny;" and, of the nobility,

that "many men make a mistake and deem themselves noble, because they

come of a noble house.... This inherited nobility deserves no envy,

except that noblemen are bound to virtue for shame of being unworthy of

their stocks; true nobility is only of the soul." St. Thomas Aquinas is

also interesting because his theology inspires Dante throughout the

"Divine Comedy."

These diverse traits, emotional and intellectual, were natural to a

period of transition, when society was passing from an age in which the

chief interests were emotional to one in which the chief interests were

intellectual; and it is interesting to notice that at the same time

social life was passing from a stage of extreme simplicity to one of

comparative luxury. The accumulation of wealth had its effect in every

department of life; it gave people time and opportunity for intellectual

interests, and also for luxury and more delicate needs. The advance in

wealth was very rapid. By the year 1300 men had already begun to blame

the luxurious habits of their time, and to look back to the simplicity

of their grandfathers as to an age of primitive innocence. Dante gives

full expression to these sentiments through the mouth of his ancestor,

Cacciaguida, in the "Paradiso." Others speak in the same way. One of

them, referring to the time of Frederick II, says: "In those times the

manners of the Italians were rude. A man and his wife ate off the same

plate. There were no wooden-handled knives, nor more than one or two

drinking-cups in a house. Candles of wax or tallow were unknown; a

servant held a torch during supper. The clothes of men were of leather

unlined; scarcely any gold or silver was seen on their dress. The common

people ate flesh but three times a week, and kept their cold meat for

supper. Many did not drink wine in summer. A small stock of corn seemed

riches. The portions of women were small; their dress, even after

marriage, was simple. The pride of men was to be well provided with arms

and horses; that of the nobility to have lofty towers, of which all the

cities in Italy were full. But now frugality has been changed for

sumptuousness; everything exquisite is sought after in dress,--gold,

silver, pearls, silks, and rich furs. Foreign wines and rich meats are

required. Hence usury, rapine, fraud, tyranny," etc.[14]

To us to-day this period of transition, with its mediaeval mixture of

commerce, religion, and war, of emotion and logic, of admiration for St.

Augustine and belief in the infallibility of Aristotle, looks extremely

odd. We forget that our generation may be in danger of similar

criticism. Odd or not, this was the state of Italy in the period

preceding that great burst of the arts and intellectual life known as

the Renaissance.

FOOTNOTES:

[13] _Storia degli Italiani_, Cesare Cantu, vol. ii, p. 851 (19).

[14] _Europe in the Middle Ages_, Hallam, p. 630.

A Short History of Italy (476-1900) · 第 18 / 39 章