Medieval interest in nature.
This healthy interest in nature and commendable curiosity concerning real things was not confined to Albert’s students nor to “rustic intelligences.” One has only to examine the sculpture of the great thirteenth century cathedrals to see that the craftsmen of the towns were close observers of the world of nature and that every artist was a naturalist too. In the foliage that twines about the capitals of the columns in French Gothic cathedrals it is easy to recognize, says M. Mâle, a large number of plants: “the plantain, arum, ranunculus, fern, clover, coladine, hepatica, columbine, cress, parsley, strawberry-plant, ivy, snapdragon, the flower of the broom and the leaf of the oak, a typically French collection of flowers loved from childhood.”[1743] Mutatis mutandis, the same statement could be made concerning the carved vegetation that runs riot in Lincoln cathedral. “The thirteenth century sculptors sang their chant de mai. All the spring delights of the Middle Ages live again in their work—the exhilaration of Palm Sunday, the garlands of flowers, the bouquets fastened on the doors, the strewing of fresh herbs in the chapels, the magical flowers of the feast of Saint John—all the fleeting charm of those old-time springs and summers. The Middle Ages, so often said to have little love for nature, in point of fact gazed at every blade of grass with reverence.”[1744] But it is not merely love of nature but scientific interest and accuracy that we see revealed in the sculptures of the cathedrals and in the note-book of the thirteenth century architect, Villard de Honnecourt,[1745] with its sketches of insect as well as animal life, of a lobster, two parroquets on a perch, the spirals of a snail’s shell, a fly, a dragonfly, and a grasshopper, as well as a bear and a lion from life, and more familiar animals such as the cat and swan. The sculptors of gargoyles and chimeras were not content to reproduce existing animals but showed their command of animal anatomy by creating strange compound and hybrid monsters—one might almost say, evolving new species—which nevertheless have all the verisimilitude of copies from living forms. It was these breeders in stone, these Burbanks of the pencil, these Darwins with the chisel, who knew nature and had studied botany and zoology in a way superior to the scholar who simply pored over the works of Aristotle and Pliny. No wonder that Albert’s students were curious about particular things.
Albert’s own attitude.
But one is inclined to wonder whether the passage from the De causis et proprietatibus elementorum et planetarum, which we quoted first, may not have been written after the passages which we have quoted from his works on plants and animals, and whether Albert had come, thanks possibly to that same stimulating scientific curiosity of his students, to cease to apologize for the detailed description of particular objects as unphilosophical and to praise it as “the best and perfect kind of science.” At any rate it is those portions of his works on animals, plants, and minerals which he devotes to such description of particular objects which possess most independent value, and it is perhaps also worth noting that Ptolemy of Lucca in looking back upon Albert’s work seems not only to distinguish his writings on logic and theology from those on nature, but also to imply a distinction between Aristotle’s natural philosophy and his “very well-known and most excellent contribution to the experimental knowledge of things of nature.”[1746] Ptolemy seems to say Aristotle’s contribution, but the credit really belongs largely to Albert and his students.
Albert and modern experimentation.
Pouchet was therefore not without justification in his sub-title, “Or Albertus Magnus and his Period Considered as the Beginning of the Experimental School.” His distinguishing, however, three stages of scientific progress in the history of civilization—the first, Greek, characterized by observation, and represented especially by Aristotle; the second, Roman, marked by erudition and typified by Pliny; the third, medieval, distinguished by experimentation, and having Albertus Magnus and Roger Bacon as its two great representatives;—was rather too general and sweeping. Galen, for instance, was a great experimenter and the ancient Empirics put little trust in anything except experience. Albert himself, in discussing “the serious problem” whether life is possible in the Antipodes or southern hemisphere, states that “the most powerful kings and the most accomplished philosophers have labored over it from antiquity, the kings forsooth by experiment and the philosophers by rational inquiry.”[1747] Moreover, neither Roger Bacon nor Albert can be shown to have done much experimenting of the sort, carefully planned and regulated, which is carried on in modern laboratories. Meyer in his History of Botany,[1748] although Albert was a great favorite with him, felt constrained to renounce the credit for purposive experimentation which Pouchet had given him. “How gladly would I see this crown also placed deservedly upon my favorite’s head!... But I do not know of his undertaking an experiment in order to solve a physiological or physical problem in which he had a clearly defined purpose and the suitable materials at hand for carrying it out; his books on plants certainly do not contain a single one.”
Personal observation and experience of plants.
Albert’s work on plants does contain, however, many passages in which he recognizes experience as a criterion of truth or gives the results of his personal observations. Such passages occur especially in the sixth book where he tries to satisfy his students’ curiosity, but we may first note an earlier passage where he recommends “making conjectures and experiments” in order to learn the nature of trees in general and of each variety of tree, herb, fruit, and fungus in particular. Since, however, one can scarcely have personal experience of them all, it is also advisable to read the books which the experts (experti) of antiquity have written on such matters.[1749] But a mistrust of the assertions of others often accompanies Albert’s reliance upon personal observation and experience. Like Galen in his work on medicinal simples, he explains in opening his sixth book that merely to list the names of plants found in existing books would fill a volume, and that he will limit his discussion to those native varieties “better known among us.” Of some of these he has had personal experience; for the others he follows authors whom he has found unready to state anything unless it was proved by experience. For experience alone is reliable concerning particular natures. He cautions in regard to a tree which is said to save doves from serpents, “But this has not been sufficiently proved by certain experience, like the other facts which are written here, but is found in the writings of the ancients.”[1750] Of another assertion he remarks, “But this is proved by no experience”;[1751] and of a third he says, “As some affirm, but I have not tested this myself.”[1752]
Experience a criterion in zoology.
Personal observation and experience are equally, if not more, noticeable in Albert’s work on animals. He proposes to tell “what he knows by reason and what he sees by experience of the natures of animals”; he adds that science cannot be attained in all matters by demonstration, in some cases one must resort to conjecture.[1753] After listing various remedies for the infirmities of falcons from the work on falconry of the Emperor Frederick, he concludes, “Such are the medicines which one finds given for falcons and the experience of wise men, but the wise falconer will with time add to or subtract from them according to his own experience of what is beneficial to the state of health of the birds. For experience is the best teacher in all matters of this sort.”[1754]