Of Siger’s works a number are extant. Two or three are concerned with the sort of logical conundrums popular among mediæval dialecticians or with theories of Aquinas and are orthodox enough, but the ‘De aeternitate mundi’ and the ‘De anima intellectiva’ contain the whole gospel of Averrhoës.[92] Their contentions are so completely a transcription of the ‘great commentator’ that it is unnecessary to do more than summarize them briefly. For Siger, as for the Arabian, Aristotle is the one and only philosopher. Like Averrhöes too, Siger makes no attempt to reconcile Aristotle with revealed religion, but carries his teaching to its supposed logical conclusion. Both Albertus and Aquinas, Siger maintained, had perverted Aristotle.[93] Not they, but Averrhoës, was the true exponent of the Stagirite. He proclaimed, then, in all boldness the doctrine of the unity of the intellect together with its inevitable corollary, the denial of personal immortality; the doctrine of the eternity of matter, which involved the negation of the Biblical story of creation, the intervention of providence, the free will and moral responsibility of the individual.[94]
Such were the fundamental conceptions of Siger’s teaching and of the propositions condemned by the Bishop of Paris in 1270. The condemnation did not silence the Averrhoïst champion and his friends. For six or seven more years they continued to be possibly a small, but apparently an energetic and defiant, body among the masters of arts in the University. Between 1272 and 1275 Siger was in open revolt against the authority of the rector, Amaury of Rheims. The Averrhoïsts separated themselves from the rest of the faculty; but the force and skill, perhaps the very audacity, of their leader attracted a large number of students to his lectures.[95] The doctrinal controversy continued. It was one not so much concerning the truth or erroneousness of the Averrhoïst position as on the question of fact—was Averrhoës or Aquinas the more faithful interpreter of Aristotle? Aegidius Romanus triumphantly vindicated the Stagirite from the Averrhoïst deductions.[96] On the other hand, there continued to be those to whom Aristotelianism and the expositions of Albertus Magnus and Aquinas were anathema.[97] In the end the latter triumphed over their adversaries: Aquinas was canonized, Aristotle was vindicated, and the Alberto-Thomist principle tended to take the place of Platonic Augustinianism as the most authoritative philosophy of the schools. It was far otherwise with the anti-scholastic faction of Siger. They, the literal slaves of Aristotle, accepting the Averrhoïst interpretations of him without emendation, refusing to accept the idea of any compromising adaptation to suit the requirements of revealed truth, were accused of maintaining that the Christian faith, in common with all other religious creeds with their fables and errors, was an obstacle to scientific enquiry leading to the acquirement of exact truth.[98] Here was Averrhoïsm naked and unashamed indeed; but it is difficult to believe that this accusation can be true. However that may be, the Paris Averrhoïsts—and Siger very outspokenly—asserted the collateral existence of two distinct truths, the religious and the philosophical.
It is remarkable that principles of this type should have been tolerated so long. In 1277 there came a change. In January of that year Pope John XXI addressed a letter to Etienne Tempier in which he bids him search out notable errors in doctrine, since it is deplorable to find the pure streams of Catholic faith, which it is the special function of the University to send forth, being grievously polluted.[99] Thus commanded, Tempier set to work once more, and this time produced a list of no fewer than 219 errors.[100] Again an attempt was made to confound the Thomists with the Averrhoïsts, and the long list included many very petty points. But the principal errors enumerated are Averrhoïst and the list is obviously aimed chiefly against Siger and Boëthius. The Bishop not only produced the catalogue, but he fulminated a decree pronouncing excommunication against all those who harboured the opinions therein condemned. Henceforward such persons were ‘suspect’ of heresy; and it is not surprising that either in November 1277 or 1278—probably the former—Siger and Boëthius were cited to appear before the inquisitor of France, Simon du Val, in the diocese of Noyon.[101] The two Averrhoïsts seem to have appealed against the inquisitor direct to the court of Rome, probably on the grounds of the special privileges of the University of Paris, the peculiar solicitude of the papacy for the University, their own intrinsic importance as teachers of great reputation and their persistent declaration that they were true Catholics. The circumstances of their latter days are obscure; but the strong probability is that they made their way to Rome to purge themselves from the suspicion of heresy, were tried before the Inquisition of Tuscany, abjured their errors, were duly reconciled and then penanced with perpetual imprisonment.[102] Siger died at Orvieto, certainly before 1300, since in that year Dante imagines a meeting with him in his journey through Paradise. How comes it that Dante places this heretic in Paradise? Two possible conjectures have been put forward. The first that Dante did so in ignorance of Siger’s true character, not being sufficiently well versed in the current philosophy of the time; the other, that he wanted to place in Paradise some one who should represent the philosopher par excellence as distinct from the theologian. It was not easy to find such a one; and of the possible candidates, Siger of Brabant was the most distinguished.[103]
Parisian Averrhoïsm, despite the condemnation of its chief exponents, did not die with Siger, Boëthius and the thirteenth century. In the next century a certain John of Landun or of Ghent was preaching Averrhoïst doctrine in the University and attacking the reputation of St. Thomas; and he had numerous followers.[104] But by this time the chief centre of Averrhoïsm was tending to be Padua rather than Paris. Here the Averrhoïst school was founded by Peter of Abano, equally famous as physician, magician, astrologer and Averrhoïst, who only escaped the clutches of the Inquisition by dying an opportune natural death in 1316.[105] The school there also admitted its direct indebtedness to the Parisian, John of Landun. From his days right down to the seventeenth century speculations of an Averrhoïst character continued to be discussed in northern Italy, especially in Padua. In the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries there were two rival Aristotelian parties in Padua and Bologna, Averrhoïsts and Alexandrists (so-called after the Greek commentator, Alexander of Aphrodistias), who disputed academic-wise concerning the personal or impersonal nature of immortality. Of the Averrhoïsts the most distinguished were Achellini, Augustino Nifo and Zimara; of the Alexandrists, Pomponazzi. Although an Alexandrist, this bold and lively thinker owed much to Averrhoës; while it is an indication of the very academic nature of Italian Averrhoïsm that Nifo, it is true after somewhat modifying his views, was commissioned by Leo X to prove as against Pomponazzi that Aristotle believed in the immortality of the soul.[106]
The most perfervid opponent of Latin Averrhoïsm in the Middle Ages was Raymond Lully, who made it his dominant object in life to combat Islam in all its shapes and forms. His schemes embraced the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre and the conversion of all Jews and Saracens; but he desired to attack not only the Koran, but Moslem heterodoxy also, and to rescue the truths of Christianity from the contaminations of the ‘great commentator.’ To these ends he laboured untiringly and with an intense zeal. We find him approaching the Council of Vienne in 1311, with projects for the amalgamation of the great military orders, a new crusade against the infidel, the foundation of colleges for the study of Arabic so that Moslem errors may be the more easily confuted. Lully also desired the suppression of the works of Averrhoës in all schools, and the prohibition of all Christians from reading them.[107] It is remarkable that the works of this great antagonist of Averrhoïsm should have themselves come under suspicion of heresy. It is probable that his followers, rather than Lully himself, were responsible for the damaging of his reputation, since some of them held opinions of a Joachite character. But it is clear that in his animosity to Averrhoïsm Lully went to the opposite extreme. Condemning the tenet of the incompatibility of philosophy and revealed truth, he was moved to maintain that there was no difference between them, that there was no dividing line between the rational and the supernatural.[108] Therein was perhaps as great error as in the contrary opinion. However that may be, Nicholas Eymeric determined to have Lully’s memory condemned, and in the ‘Directorium’ is particularly venomous against him. In 1376 he exhibited a papal bull condemning no fewer than 500 Lullist opinions as heretical. The results were curious. These were in the days of the Schism; and the Aragonese acknowledged neither pope. Declaring the bull a forgery, perpetrated by the inquisitor himself, the Lullists secured his banishment, and Eymeric died in exile.[109]
A better known enemy of Averrhoïsm than Raymond Lully was Petrarch, who like Lully hated everything that savoured of Islam. He hated its medicine and its astronomy, but above all its philosophy. He makes the Averrhoïsts—of whom it is clear he must have known a number—targets of an indignant irony. They are men who make it a point of honour to deny Christ and the supernatural. Petrarch, his inspiration drawn from the classics of paganism, a man who had witnessed and loathed the abominations of Avignon, who regarded Rome as ‘the temple of heresy,’ had no brief to defend the orthodox creed. But to him Christianity was endeared because of its humility, Averrhoïsm abhorrent because it was dogmatic, self-confident, pedantic.[110]
This to the mediæval mind is the outstanding characteristic of Averrhoïsm. It is insolent in the assurance of its denials. In the fourteenth century Averrhoës himself stands as the unique personification of the spirit of unbelief; and as such is bracketed with Antichrist and Mohammed.[111] In this light he figures in the paintings of Orcagna and others. To Gerson he is the most abominable of all enemies of Christianity, to Petrarch a rabid dog ever raging against the Catholic faith.[112] The famous phrase ‘the three impostors,’ which had first been attributed by Gregory IX to Frederick II, and the essential conception of which in book form was destined to be attributed to many others from Boccaccio to Erasmus, Rabelais to Milton, was fathered upon Averrhoës.[113] He had declared—so it was believed—that Moses, Christ and Mohammed were three impostors who had deluded the world; also that of the three religions, Judaism, Christianity, Mohammedanism, the first was a religion for babes, the second a sheer impossibility, the third fit only for hogs. The Eucharist was the impossible feature of Christianity, and Christians were especially hateful because they ate the flesh of the God whom they professed to adore.[114]
Perhaps the most interesting fact connected with the story of the Islamic philosophy in Europe is the fact that it helped to familiarize Christendom with some of the features of another religion. It was not, of course, the sole agency to do that; the Crusades played their part. It is significant that many of the mediæval stories and mystery plays have as their central idea apostasy, which as a rule takes the form of conversion to Mohammedanism. Even the religious wars in Palestine did not breed exclusively antagonism to the faith of the infidel, and friendly intercourse with Saracen Spain and academic interest in Islamic philosophy produced a knowledge that was less critical than sympathetic. Such familiarity with the main conceptions of other creeds rendered feasible the comparative study of religion. That was to be an achievement for a future age. Yet it needed no exact science of the subject to encourage the spirit of toleration. When other religions were discussed, were it only for the sake of attacking and refuting them, still the curious eye could not fail to be aware of their common elements. Not even in Marsiglio is the principle of religious toleration more notably set forth than in one of the tales of the ‘Decameron,’ the pithy parable of ‘The Three Rings,’ which inspired Lessing’s ‘Nathan the Wise.’[115] Melchizedek in Boccaccio’s tale emphasizes in his analogue the common elements in the three religions of Jew, Moslem and Christian, each claiming to be the sole truth, and no doubt one of them being in fact the truth, yet so alike that none can tell which that one is. Boccaccio’s attitude is one of sceptical indifference, and it is no far cry from that to the attitude of Pulci in the ‘Morgante Maggiore,’ in which the mood is one of complete levity and all the forces of ridicule are brought against the quips and quiddities of the theologian and the superiority of Orlando’s God over Morgante’s original deity is made to look exceedingly equivocal.
We must not allow ourselves to discover an Averrhoïst origin for all the outspoken language used in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, in which Christianity is regarded critically, objectively.[116] It is no doubt true that Averrhoïsm was principally an academic force belonging to the universities, and that even there its adherents were never numerous. On the other hand, there must inevitably have been some infiltration of Averrhoïst ideas through the general community. There must have been some dispersal through the agency of the scholars who thronged the seats of learning, who were more often than not wanderers from one school to another, from Spain to France, from France to England, from England to Italy, and who must have scattered abroad the influences under which they themselves were brought. There were from the point of view of the Church two obviously dangerous features in Averrhoïsm. First there was its anti-scholastic nature, its determination to follow philosophy wheresoever it might lead, regardless of whether it could be reconciled with Christian dogma or not, a determination which was accompanied by a bold insistence upon their incompatibility in point of fact. In the resolution to follow truth, untrammelled by religious dogma, there might at the surface appear to be something of that critical spirit which produced another anti-scholastic revolt, that of Roger Bacon. But whereas in his case the inductive method gave promise of progress in knowledge, the possibility scarcely existed with philosophers who were just as completely persuaded as was the most orthodox mediæval saint that the truth had once and for ever been vouchsafed to mankind, with the sole difference that whereas the saint found the truth in the Bible, the Averrhoïst found it in the treatises of Aristotle. But the fact that he did so find it—in pagan and not in sacred writ—was, one would have thought, radical enough and dangerous enough; while the actual doctrines he professed were as divorced from Christian belief, as wildly heretical as any that the most fiercely persecuted mediæval sect ever expressed. Nevertheless as a rule the Averrhoïst was not persecuted.
At first glance this appears very surprising. Yet the explanation is in reality simple enough. In the first place, the Church was no enemy of speculative thinking as such. The doctors, the masters and the students who debated so earnestly, so vehemently, abstract questions in philosophy as well as in theology were themselves clerics; the universities were ecclesiastical foundations; their studies were essentially sacred, not profane. It was no part of the policy of the mediæval Church to stifle enquiry and discussion by those properly qualified concerning the ultimate truths of existence. Such work might well be to the glory of God and the permanent enrichment of the Church. And if the Averrhoïsts did not, like Albertus Magnus and Aquinas and the great Franciscan Augustinians, convert their learning into Christian apologetics; on the other hand, they were not like the wandering sectaries, whom the Church did persecute, irresponsible unlearned laity, who spoke of mysteries they were not fit to understand, but they were themselves clergy under proper academic discipline and supervision. Moreover, they did not attack the Church; on the contrary, they professed themselves the most devout true Catholics. Their interest in philosophy was purely abstract; they had no ulterior motives, no remotest idea of propaganda with a view to shaking the authority of the Church or the filial allegiance to her of a single one of her children. On the contrary, they repeatedly and most emphatically asserted that their philosophical tenets were exclusively academic and not intended to have any bearing upon life and conduct. Thus the Averrhoïst postulate of a double truth, one philosophic, the other religious, stood its adherents in good stead. We cannot to-day see into the minds of these Latin Averrhoïsts, cannot tell whether they persuaded themselves that they really were Christians, were sincere in their conception of two irreconcilable truths or adopted it merely as a convenient subterfuge and were flippantly cynical or sardonically insolent in their hypocrisy. The subterfuge served the Averrhoïsts; whether its acquiescence in the subterfuge served the Church is another matter. While the obviously honest Waldensian and Beghard were harried to the stake, the obviously dishonest Averrhoïst was usually left at large. Was not the tendency of such discrepancy of treatment to place a premium upon mere lip-service and religious insincerity? From the fourteenth-century Averrhoïst, with his idea of the double truth, it is but one step to the fifteenth-century humanist, openly indifferent to religion altogether, not troubling to consider whether such a thing as religious truth exists at all, seeking and discerning truth in the pagan world only.