I've been reading about Michael Scot. I was intrigued by this Scotsman who made his way to Continental Europe and became one of the leading intellectuals of the 13th century, court astrologer to the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II. Through translations from Arabic and Hebrew texts he was important in re-introducing the works of Aristotle to Europe, and promoting the commentaries on them that came from the Arab world. From our modern perspective this may have been his most important role in the history of ideas. Scottish border country legend remembers him as a wizard and he features in works of Walter Scott and James Hogg, in particular using malign magic to split the Eildon Hills in three.
We know some of what Michael Scot did from his books but the man himself remains mysterious. He was born, probably, about 1175 and died around 1235. He clearly thought of himself as Scottish and he probably was. There is a stone in his memory in Melrose Abbey but he is probably not buried there. He is embedded so firmly in folklore that one feels he must have returned to Scotland but there is no real record of this and he may equally well have died in Italy, where he also features in popular tales of wizardry. He first pops up unambiguously in 1217, among the community of scholars in Toledo who were translating works from ancient Greece and the Arab world into Latin. We can only speculate about precisely where he was educated, what journeys he'd been on before this point.
I thought Michael Scot might be useful in talking with Scottish people about astronomy. Rooted in place and people, stories from history are a great way to lead in to scientific ideas. With grown-up humans I think we should be discussing scientific ideas in their cultural context. In this case we're talking so long ago that astronomical knowledge was not yet detached from the worldview of astrology but that's OK; perhaps we could use him to discuss the emergence of scientific ideas, what makes an idea "scientific", mathematics in science... So I've been delving into Michael Scot history, in particular reading a book called just Michael Scot, written in 1965 by Lynn Thorndike.
Professor Thorndike's book is scholarly, detailed and academic. The chapter on "early life" for instance avoids unfounded speculation and looks for hints in Scot's own writings, e.g. an instructional anecdote about an impoverished young man whose education was being paid for by a supportive uncle: was this autobiographical? Translations from the original Latin are used to discuss his beliefs under several headings: "The Universe", Meteorology, Medicine, Sociology, Physiology and Physiognomy, etc. Reading these chapters as a scientist in the 21st century I feel I'm tackling the pinnacly bit of the ridge, or maybe negotiating the boggy peat hags: difficult territory. I knew I was meeting somebody from a time very long ago when people thought very differently but this detailed discussion, very close to primary sources, really rubs your nose in how differently. Astronomy is just part of the practical knowledge underlying astrology, which in turn is a central ingredient of a theological view of the universe and the people within it. Matters now regarded as belonging to different domains of science are all jumbled up together. The moral, theological and natural worlds are conjoined. There are large doses of numerology.
Some fairly random examples: under "Universe" we read
In the Paris manuscript such celestial virtues are compared not to columns supporting edifices reared by the exercise of mechanical art, but to suspending cables and the action of the magnet. It is further stated that the four cardinal winds are said by the sages of the world to be four such virtues.and
Michael believed further that demons could not endure the sound of harmony and fled from music, whether vocal or instrumental, or from the songs of birds. He thought that the ninth sphere [of the Aristotelian universe] was silent as well as starless, but that the eighth sphere of the fixed stars revolved melodiously 'with smoothest sound and sweetest voice', because outside itself it had an essence (i.e. the ninth sphere) by which this sound was reflected.and
Besides the twelve feathers in a bird's tail and twelve signs of the zodiac, there are twelve prerequisites for any art: what it is, of what material, genus, parts, what workers, what the office of the art and of its masters, what its purpose, utility, goal, instrument, why so called, and to what part of philosophy subordinated. Scot lists twenty-eight kinds of divination in his prologue, and there are twenty-eight mansions of the moon. The statement that God made twenty-two creatures in the six days of creation seems derived from Isidore, Etymologies XVI, 26, 10, who in turn borrowed from Epiphanius, Liber de ponderibus et mensuris. Scot, however, lists eight creatures for the first day against Isidore's seven, the latter omitting fire of the four elements, while Isidore counts four on the third day against Scot's three; but they cover the same things. ...
Do we do better with a familiar topic like "Meteorology"? Let's see:
Intemperate air ...[may arise from]... change of air from the seasons of the year, such as a winter which was hot and dry, that is, not rainy, and summer contrariwise, that is, cold and wet. And if in its quality it shall be hotter or colder than an even temperament, this happens in five ways. First, by reason of the time of year. Second, from the rising and setting of the great stars by their distance from or nearness to the sun, as Alabor and the bear's tail. Third by reason of the winds, for the north wind prolongs life and adorns men's bodies. The south wind does the opposite, and the like in the case of women, whence the south wind is good for women. And all this is apparent in winter by men being improved and women deteriorated, and the opposite in summer...."Intemperate" air, by the way, is defined by how people feel in its presence.
Sociology:
A lunar person tends to mediocrity in occupation, as that of a sailor, runner, letter carrier, common crier, courtier, jester, weaver, gardener, shepherd, guard of city or castle, servant of lord or lady, ruffian, prostitute if she be female, petty salesman or peddler, fisherman, wanderer from one house to another. He may sew chasubles and underwear, that is shorts and drawers, wash linen, sweep house and street, draw water to sell, steal garden fruit, indulge in vain glory and so be pleased, if praised for beauty or probity.How is this "sociology"? The word is Professor Thorndike's, of course, not Scot's but the point is that the place filled by the person in society and his or her interactions with others are ultimately determined by the character of the person, which in the medieval world view is astrologically determined. Those long lists, by the way, occur quite often - apparently it would not have done to give a general characterisation, as modern writers might do, and just a few examples.
From the time of Copernicus the writers on scientific questions sometimes seem surprisingly modern, even although they still respect astrological ideas. People can find passages that suggest they pay only lip service to the practice of astrology - as well as passages suggesting the opposite. But Scot was 250 years earlier than Copernicus, at the height of the Middle Ages. The "leading intellectual in Western Europe during the first third of the thirteenth century" (Thorndike's words) he may have been, but he was still a representative of a profoundly different world view from ours, from a time in which our procedures for asking questions about the world were still mostly undeveloped.
Although he was a major figure of his time, no paradigm was shattered by his hand. His historical importance rests probably in his promotion of and influence on the work of others. Why do we remember him in Scotland? As a close advisor to the Emperor Frederick II he occupied a position of great importance in medieval Europe; a spectacular example of "local boy done good". He certainly wrote about demons, necromancy, etc., although the opinion of both Professor Thorndike and Dante is that he did not practice himself. It's not hard to imagine how the stories of wizardry might arise, adding to his legend.
Can we rescue him for modernity, tie him into some modern story? No. But there probably are great stories to be spun from this material, of world views and how they change and evolve. Starting those stories in familiar, Scottish places will help to coax listeners through the door. For now I'm still clinging to the pinnacles, conscious of the vertical drops at my back, but soon I'll be on flatter terrain and I can start to think about putting those stories together.
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