Paris and Oxford between Aureoli and Rimini

Paris and Oxford between Aureoli and Rimini
Paris and Oxford between Aureoli and Rimini Chris Schabel Oxford ideas in logic and natural philosophy were readily received, analysed, and partially incorporated into corresponding writings of a logical or natural philosophical nature at the University of Paris throughout the 1320s, 1330s, and 1340s. Precise dating, however, is usually not possible. There was a strong Parisian reaction to Ockham’s physics before 1327, particularly on the part of Walter Burley, and Ockham’s Summa logicae was available to the influential Parisian arts master John Buridan.1 Statutes of the Parisian arts faculty show that Ockham’s logic was playing a significant role there by 1339 ([16.10], [16.26]). The logical writings of the Oxford Calculators from the late 1320s and 1330s were important in Parisian works of natural philosophy from the 1340s and afterwards ([16.19]). Buridan and Nicole Oresme used the more abstract Oxford geometrical and mathematical concepts, but made their application to physical theory a fundamental aim, and this contributed to their interesting treatments of such topics as the motion of projectiles and the Earth’s rotation. With philosophical theology the story is different. A common view of theology at the University of Paris in the quarter century between Peter Aureoli and Gregory of Rimini is that Paris ignored Oxford just when Oxford was experiencing its golden age. After Aureoli lectured on the Sentences in 1316–18, Parisian scholars busied themselves in stagnant isolation refuting his opinions for a few years until about 1326, when Parisian thought went into what has been labelled as a ‘dormition’, only to be reawakened in 1343–4 by Rimini, who brought much of the new Oxford thought into Paris. Thus in this period Paris not only lost its customary dominance to Oxford, it actually went into sharp decline in absolute terms because it failed to maintain intellectual contacts with the main English studium generale (see [16.9] 153). The aim of this chapter is to review and revise this scenario. Although Parisian theology was isolated from Oxford, for the most part, between 1318 and 1343, Oxford was equally ignorant of Paris. Moreover, where scholars have looked, Paris was alive, awake, and productive at least until 1330, and remained the intellectual focal point of continental education. The Parisian ‘products’, of course, differed from those of Oxford, as one would expect from such mutual isolation, but when both rigorous currents came together at Paris in the 1340s, they created a dynamic synthesis. THE BEGINNINGS OF ISOLATION In the thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries, Paris was the top school in philosophy and theology for the secular clergy, and the international and hierarchical educational systems of the mendicant orders helped ensure that the leading students in Barcelona, Bologna, Cologne and Oxford eventually made their way to Paris. When scholars left this international market of ideas, they carried those ideas with them. For reasons that are unclear, however, English scholars began to stay at home in the 1310s, and most of the English had left Paris by 1320. Some remained, but few new English students arrived at Paris in the 1320s and 1330s. This fact alone accounts for Oxford’s rise in these decades: the best of Britain’s students stayed at home. In Paris it was business as usual, with two exceptions: first, it lost its English scholars; second, the end of the 1320s and the early 1330s were troubled times for the Church. Scholarly energies were sometimes turned to issues like the quarrel between John XXII and the mendicants, and John XXII’s other doctrinal ‘interests’, such as the beatific vision, matters which produced some important writings in political philosophy, for example, although not always directly connected with Paris. Otherwise, things went on without the English. Between 1315 and 1340 we find at Paris many significant Spanish, Italian and of course French scholars, although a few Germans also left a mark, such as Thomas of Strasbourg. Only in the early 1320s were there any ‘leftover’ English, such as John Baconthorpe, Thomas Wilton and Walter Burley. Moreover, this composition of Spanish, Italian and French scholars continued even after Rimini’s ‘recovery’, so that in the 1340s we find that our remaining Sentences commentaries come from Alphonsus Vargas of Toledo of Spain; Rimini, Hugolinus of Orvieto, Paul of Perugia, and John of Ripa from Italy; and John of Mirecourt and Pierre Ceffons from France. The English never really did return in force to Paris, whereas the German presence increased there markedly, until the creation of the new German universities in the wake of the Great Schism. To a degree English thought had always played a role in Paris, but it was primarily English scholars who had also studied theology in Paris, such as Scotus, William of Alnwick, Wilton, Baconthorpe and Burley, who were known to their fellow Parisians. This was consistently the case even in the thirteenth century, and continued until around 1340. One can take Henry of Harclay as an example: he was cited by name in, for example, distinction 39 of Peter Aureoli’s Scriptum version of his commentary on book I of the Sentences ([16.4] 185–6). Through Aureoli, almost all Parisian theologians came to learn of Harclay’s position. Furthermore, Aufredo Gonteri Brito OFM literally absorbed the whole of Harclay’s Parisian Sentences commentary into his own, when lecturing at Paris in the 1320s. English influence at Paris in the 1320s did not depend on their physical presence there. What about the influence of contemporary Oxford scholars in this period, in Paris? Before 1326 we have practically no evidence of the new English theology in Paris, and yet this was a highly productive period. There are several possible reasons for the lack of English influence at Paris after 1326, however: Pope John XXII’s movements after 1326 against the suspect opinions and actions of Ockham, Peter Olivi, Meister Eckhart, Michael of Cesena and Thomas of Wales, which may have stifled philosophical flamboyance; the straining of cross- Channel relations at the approach of the Hundred Years War; and the extreme decrease in the numbers of English scholars at Paris after 1325 (see, e.g. [16.7] 45–6). The most plausible explanation for the Parisian attitude toward Oxford in both periods is that Parisian thinkers were too busy dealing with Aureoli. Peter Aureoli’s stature in medieval thought has not been fully appreciated, partly because until recently few have bothered to look at Parisian thought in the decade after him, when we would expect his impact to be felt most intensely. Aureoli comprehensively dismantled the systems of Aquinas and Scotus, and created a new, internally coherent system of thought that could not be ignored. It was so large, however, that it left little room for anyone else. Thus Landulph Caracciolo, for example, sometimes seems content to attack Aureoli as if there were no one else. Looked at from this perspective, it is no wonder Ockham and the English failed to make an impact. SOURCES FOR STUDYING PARISIAN THEOLOGY, 1315–40 Between 1315 and 1340 many significant scholars studied at the University of Paris. When we look at Parisian thought in this era we are struck with the large number of extant Sentences commentaries from the period 1315–30. In this period, these commentaries are the main source for current issues not only in theology per se, but also science and philosophy more generally (see [16.17] 274–80). There are about twenty named authors with major extant theological works, several anonymous commentaries (mostly Franciscan) that can be assigned to this period, and we find many of Wilton’s ideas via Baconthorpe and Pierre Roger’s from Francis Meyronnes (see [16.23]). We have only two commentaries that we can assign with certainty to the 1330s, those of Strasbourg and Peter of Aquila, both conservative thinkers. Although we do have the fascinating letters between Nicholas of Autrecourt and Bernard of Arezzo, their Sentences commentaries do not survive. Autrecourt’s was in fact burned. Thus we have about thirty theologians participating in a twenty-five-year discussion, but most of the discussion had apparently ended by the early 1330s. There is some evidence for the lasting influence of the theologians in these decades. Although Early Modern motives in publishing were complex, it is still interesting that at least ten Parisians of this period, for the most part not well known to us, had major theological works printed in the late fifteenth through to the early seventeenth centuries, but this could be said for only five Oxford scholars from the same era.2 Yet very few historians have tried to trace the course of any debate in the Paris of that time. Even the editors of Rimini had little success in finding the Parisian sources with whom he agreed, though this was partly because he did not cite them himself. In truth, later theologians, especially Franciscans, looked back upon these decades as a golden age in Parisian thought, at least Franciscan thought. The fifteenthcentury English Scotist John Foxoles placed the ultimate origin of three schools of roughly Scotist thought in the 1320s and 1330s: Meyronnists, Bonetists and pure Scotists (see [16.5] 270–1). In some areas of philosophy there arose a ‘Marchist’ school as well, arising from Francis of Marchia, and further articulated by Michael of Massa and William of Rubione. By Rimini’s time some of their ideas were common enough to be used without reference. It is too early to tell the story of Paris between Aureoli and Rimini with any degree of accuracy. Indeed, we are unsure of important basic dates for many works, e.g. the versions of Aureoli’s Sentences commentary; Peter Thomae’s and Peter of Navarre’s lectures; and Rubione’s commentary (see [16.1] 199–207; [16.4] 78–82). Recently changes have been made to the chronology of several figures in the 1330s: Peter of Aquila, Thomas of Strasbourg, Nicholas of Autrecourt and Bernard of Arezzo (see [16.13]). Book I of Marchia’s Sentences commentary, from lectures given just after Aureoli’s, survives in two main versions in at least fifteen manuscripts and five fragments, but remains unedited. In light of the inchoate nature of the research, a general view of the period is simply impossible. Therefore, let us examine the theory of Oxford superiority and Parisian isolation, stagnation, dormition and reception of Oxford thought by comparing more closely the discussion of Parisian and Oxford scholars in two of the four areas in philosophical theology that Courtenay deems ‘worthy of special mention’ in Oxford theology in the very same period: epistemology and future contingents ([16.11] 22–9). FUTURE CONTINGENTS No fewer than ten theologians active from 1315 to 1340 have had all or much of their Oxford treatments of future contingents published in modern critical editions.3 For Paris, by contrast, this is true for two figures only: Aureoli and Navarre. Lest this philosophical issue be considered an area of particular strength for Oxford and weakness for Paris, it must be added that Gregory of Rimini, the Parisian theologian who is considered most responsible for the integration of the ‘New English Theology’ into the Parisian milieu in the early 1340s, devoted most of his energy to refuting Aureoli, building on Parisian tradition. Moreover, during the celebrated quarrel over future contingents at Louvain in the later fifteenth century, a controversy that grew to include issues of divine power and will, Aureoli, Meyronnes, Marchia and Nicholas Bonet played explicit roles, but none of the Oxford theologians did (see [16.21] 407–8). So we must be prepared from the outset to admit that the supposed superiority of Oxford thought in this era is perhaps more a reflection of modern scholarly interests than of medieval considerations. Aside from the verbatim copying (reading secundum alium) of Durandus by Bernard the Lombard and Dionysus de Burgo Sancti Sepulchri, and of Harclay by Gonteri as mentioned, scholars active between 1318 and 1330 focused on Aureoli’s opinions. The main elements of Aureoli’s position have been outlined above. Temporal things are indistant or non-distant to God’s eternity, and future-tensed propositions are neither true nor false determinately; nor does God’s knowledge make them so, since it does not temporally precede the future. In addition, Aureoli’s emphasis on absolute divine necessity left little room for any divine action, so Aureoli developed an awkward division between the intrinsic divine will of ‘complacency’ which was immutable and absolutely necessary, and the extrinsic will of ‘operation’, by which God actually acts, as in creation.4 The reaction to Aureoli’s theory in England was slight. Ockham showed no awareness. Chatton knew some of Aureoli, and quoted the basics of his ideas on propositions and prophecy, so he must have known Aureoli’s distinction 38, article three. In refuting this fragment of Aureoli’s treatment, Chatton even said, ‘this would be a nice explanation, if it were true’. Adam Wodeham demonstrated about the same cognizance of Aureoli as had Chatton, and perhaps knew a bit more about the Parisian debate generally. Otherwise, there was little response. Some of Bradwardine’s remarks in his De causa Dei which appeared to some scholars to refer to Aureoli personally, really did not, and Bradwardine was a bit confused if he meant that the position that he heard defended in Avignon and Oxford was Aureoli’s own. Aureoli never played a big role in the Oxford debate, which instead went in other, interesting directions, examining in depth issues surrounding prophecy, the ontological status of divine foreknowledge (and the complexe significabile), and finally the different types of necessity with respect to both the past and future.5 These last ‘Oxford’ issues only came to prominence in Paris with Rimini. In the intervening years, almost every Parisian theologian whose pertinent works can be securely dated to between 1318 and 1330 focused much of his discussion on Aureoli. Every one of Aureoli’s main points was attacked, since he appeared to have denied foreknowledge and prophecy altogether. In the 1320s, Baconthorpe, Caracciolo, and his follower the anonymous author of Vienna ÖNB 1439 criticized Aureoli’s vulnerable concept of the twofold divine will; Caracciolo wondered whether creation came from God at all under Aureoli’s scheme, if the act of creation were somehow ‘extrinsic’ to God. Meyronnes, Caracciolo, Gerard of Siena, Bonet, and in an odd way Gerard Odon rejected Aureoli’s notion of indistance, maintaining that such a negative relation made little positive sense. Meyronnes, Marchia, and Michael of Massa opposed the neutrality of future contingent propositions, making use of both logical arguments and Scripture in their defence of bivalence. Several scholars defended Scotus’s account and appealed to the traditional distinctions between the composite and divided senses of such propositions as ‘what God foreknows will necessarily come about’, and between the necessities of the consequent and of the consequence (and parallel distinctions) in such consequences as ‘God foreknows X; X will be’. All of these Aureoli had refuted at length, so this constitutes the major ‘conservative’ point shared by many of these thinkers. Nevertheless, interesting positive theories came out of the debate. For Wilton, whose ideas in this context we know via Baconthorpe, what was needed was to show that there are different levels of determination in human activities anyway, and that we need not fear all such ‘predetermination’. Thus God can know ‘contingent’ futures. Francis of Marchia developed a similar solution, although in much greater depth. In short, he distinguished between different types of determinations and indeterminations de inesse and de possibili. Humans in fact determine themselves beforehand with respect to what they are actually going to do; this is determination de inesse, about what is in reality, without which no one would or could actually do anything. This does not mean that they are determined de possibili, however, in a way that the possibility to do otherwise is removed. Determination de inesse was the basis of divine foreknowledge and was required for human action, while indetermination de possibili preserved human freedom and left God’s foreknowledge intact. Aureoli would have found several problems with this theory, but it was expressed eloquently and systematically. Massa and Rubione accepted Marchia’s solution as their own, and by Rimini’s time it seems to have been a commonplace. Through Rimini it was passed to later theologians, and used in the late fifteenth century by the well-read Fernand of Cordoba against Peter of Rivo’s defence of Aureoli’s doctrine. Rimini does not cite Marchia by name in his Sentences commentary in this context, nor do the editors trace Marchia’s influence. Like most scholastics, Rimini was not in the habit of citing by name those with whom he agreed. When he devoted an entire question to refuting Aristotle and Aureoli’s opinion on future contingent propositions, he did not cite his Parisian predecessors who did the same thing. His Augustinian confrère Massa, in particular, focused much energy on this very point, and may have been Rimini’s immediate source for Marchia’s de inessel de possibili distinction. Nevertheless, he was not cited by name either and historians have doomed him to oblivion even in his own order. Moreover, the Parisian Nicholas Bonet was probably Rimini’s reason for treating propositions yet again after so many others had. During the Louvain controversy in the 1470s, Cardinal Bessarion and Francesco della Rovere (Pope Sixtus IV) would remember and applaud their fellow Franciscan Bonet’s refutation of Aureoli’s indistance notion in the former’s Natural Theology of around 1330, but they looked less favourably on Bonet’s apparent agreement with Aureoli that future contingent propositions could not be true or false without entailing fatalism. Indeed, Bonet seems to have limited the certainty of divine foreknowledge, in a way Aureoli himself would not have approved (see [16.20] 127–279, 714–69). Rimini’s main goal in his impressive and exhaustive treatment is to defeat Aureoli once and for all on the issue of propositions. In doing so, Rimini defended foreknowledge per se, and only then did he go on to other sub-issues, some of which came from Oxford. Rimini shows his familiarity in this context with Wodeham, Chatton, Ockham and the Monachus Niger. This is well known, but it does not seem possible with future contingents to show when exactly these Oxford ideas were in circulation in Paris. Probably it was not before 1330, but certainly by 1343. Unfortunately the paucity and conservative nature of pertinent sources from the 1330s do not allow any more specificity. EPISTEMOLOGY Katherine Tachau has looked at the Oxford discussion of epistemology in these decades, and at Aureoli and some of his Parisian successors. With the help of other works, we are able to piece the Parisian picture together fairly comprehensively. In epistemology as in future contingents Aureoli played a pivotal role. Although he was emphasizing vision, Aureoli’s successors interpreted his theories as a radical departure from previous epistemologies, primarily Scotus’s. Scotus had differentiated between intuitive and abstractive cognition basically by saying that intuitive cognition was of objects immediately present, and abstractive cognition was the knowledge one had when the object was absent. Aureoli put forth a redefinition of intuition and abstraction, taking various erroneous visual ‘experiences’ (he gives eight examples) as his starting point to define intuition. In doing so, Aureoli maintained that intuition occurred when one thought the object was immediately present, and in that case the ‘apparent being’ (esse apparens) was in fact present to the mind, even with veridical intuition. For example, when one is on a moving ship, one experiences the motion of objects on the shore. Since one intuits the apparent being of such motion without its real presence, or even existence, outside the mind, and since even in Veridical’ intuition one in fact intuits only apparent being, then one cannot infer the real presence or existence of the objects of ‘normal’ experiences, Aureoli argued. Moreover, if produced by God, an erroneous intuition would be indistinguishable from a veridical one. For some of Aureoli’s successors, this jeopardized all certainty, although Aureoli apparently did not intend this (see [16.24] 85–112). By his own admission, Ockham had limited access to Aureoli’s Scriptum, but Ockham learned enough about Aureoli to treat the latter’s position in a confused way in his Ordinatio, written while at the London convent in 1320–4. The most idiosyncratic aspects of Ockham’s treatment are his claims that one can have a true intuition that something does not exist, and that God could give us a false intuition of something not present, but we would still discern its falsity. These awkward opinions were easy targets for those who followed in the English discussion. In debates with his confrère Walter Chatton, Ockham modified some of his views ([16.24] 113–53). Chatton himself, composing his Sentences commentary in 1321–3, knew Aureoli’s Scriptum better, but Chatton’s readers were not able to distinguish clearly between Ockham and Aureoli in Chatton’s work, and this led to further confusion ([16.24] 180, 185–6, 207–8). Adam Wodeham was Chatton’s rapporteur at the Franciscan London studium, and when he in turn lectured on the Sentences at Norwich, London and Oxford, beginning perhaps in 1328 or even earlier, Wodeham came to explore Aureoli’s views directly, so that he knew him better than anyone else in England.6 From the discussions of future contingents and epistemology we can perhaps infer that the Franciscans’ London convent housed the only manuscript of Aureoli’s Scriptum in England, since Ockham, Chatton and Wodeham, who show the most extensive knowledge of Aureoli, seem to have examined his work there. Unfortunately we know less about epistemology at Oxford after Wodeham, but the London convent and Adam Wodeham may be the key to the passage of English theology to Paris beginning in the 1330s. As in the case of future contingents, Aureoli’s thought played a significant role in Parisian epistemological discussions in the 1320s and 1330s. Of the theologians Tachau inspected from this period, she found that only Strasbourg appeared unfamiliar with Aureoli’s epistemology, and even Strasbourg has been added to those who treated Aureoli in that context (see [16.13] 455). The same can be said of some of the theologians Tachau has not studied, such as Baconthorpe (see [16.14] 57). In many cases, these theologians had difficulty understanding Aureoli’s position because they approached his text wearing Scotist glasses, reading into Aureoli Scotus’s definition of intuition and abstraction. Still, the epistemological debate that followed Aureoli in Paris had a continuing impact even after the full reception of English thought. Caracciolo’s treatment, for example, was well known to Pierre Ceffons, lecturing in 1345 (see [16.24] 321). In epistemology, however, English thought is already present by 1332. Parallel passages in Chatton and William of Rubione reveal a close connection in the context of epistemology, and other evidence reinforces such an early cross-Channel link (see [16.15] 39–40; [16.13] 447–8). Rubione’s commentary could have been written any time between 1323 and 1332, however, so Chatton’s commentary may have even been available in Paris immediately following his own Sentences lectures. There is another difficulty: we cannot be certain about Rubione’s testimony until we examine Marchia’s works exhaustively. In other contexts, Marchia influenced both Chatton and Rubione, and although an inspection of the two main versions of Marchia’s Sentences commentary did not reveal the relevant discussion of abstractive and intuitive cognition, perhaps there was another source. It would be odd for such an original thinker as Marchia to have been perhaps unique in ignoring Aureoli on this issue. Chatton’s impact is certainly present, however, in the most famous epistemological debate of the time, perhaps of the entire Middle Ages, the exchanges of letters between Nicholas of Autrecourt and Bernard of Arezzo in 1336–7. Taking the lead from Aureoli and the Parisian discussion following his lectures, Autrecourt took the next step and denied the possibility of certainty based on sensory perception. No apparent perception of an extramental object could provide certainty of the existence of that object. Moreover, even assuming the existence of those objects, one could never be certain of cause and effect relations, the bases of natural philosophy. If it is possible for us to be mistaken about the external world and efficient causation because of God’s action, Autrecourt maintained that it is possible without qualification to be so mistaken. There have been many treatments, even monographlength accounts, of the radically sceptical aspects of Autrecourt’s thought. Until recently this debate was seen as evidence of the influence of that ubiquitous ‘Ockhamism’, but Tachau shows convincingly that this historiographical interpretation is based on a long series of errors and false suppositions. In fact, there is no evidence for Ockham’s influence on Autrecourt in the debate (see [16.24] 335–52; [16.13] 453–9; [16.25] 248–50). Still, there are strong indications that Autrecourt knew Chatton’s work, if not Ockham’s. In 1340 the arts faculty restricted a proposition that Autrecourt, while being reviewed in 1346, admitted he had held, presumably in the 1330s: ‘God and a creature are nothing.’ Although in 1346 Autrecourt used the term complexe significabile to describe what he had held, and Tachau therefore links the proposition to Wodeham, it could just as easily be the case that Autrecourt came to hold the proposition via Chatton’s influence, and only later learned Wodeham’s terminology. Indeed, Tachau says that Autrecourt conflated the views of the two English Franciscans ([16.24] 353–6). The first strong evidence for Wodeham’s presence, and for Ockham’s, comes again with Rimini. As in the case of future contingents, Rimini combined a concern with Aureoli and Parisian currents with a close knowledge of the English debate, although he was less negative toward Aureoli in this context. Rimini opposed Ockham’s position, as had most Oxford scholars, but Wodeham played a positive part in the development of the Italian Augustinian’s opinion. Here as well we see the introduction of the complexe significabile to yet another philosophical problem, and in the decade following Rimini the English and Parisian trends merged ([16.24] 357–83). THE IMPACT OF ENGLISH THOUGHT IN PARIS AFTER 1340 The impact of English thought in Parisian philosophical theology in the 1330s appears to be mostly limited to Oxford writers active in London before 1323, e.g. Ockham in his non-theological works, Chatton in his Sentences commentary, and perhaps Wodeham. By 1343, however, Rimini was using a very wide range of English philosophical and theological works. There is reason to believe that there was an important Italian connection here. William of Alnwick was named lector at the Franciscan studium in Bologna in 1323, and Thomas Waleys was lector at the Dominican convent there in 1326–7. Walter Burley, who by 1327 knew so much of the intellectual currents of both Oxford and Paris, was in Bologna in 1341. Ockham himself was in Italy for a while after 1328, although it is doubtful that he had much of an impact there just then. These English scholars brought their minds and their books, and by about 1340 parts of Burley’s, Ockham’s, Rodington’s and Chatton’s Sentences commentaries and no doubt many other English works were available in Bologna. Finally, before returning to Paris in 1342, Gregory of Rimini lectured in Bologna, Padua and Perugia (see [16.6] 13–32; [16.13] 449–50). This may help explain how Rimini brought so much with him, and why the full introduction of English thought into Paris seems so abrupt. After 1343 there was definitely an English influence in Paris, but how much of an impact? In theology, Courtenay points to four English trends. First, Sentences commentaries shrunk in size. Second, Sentences commentaries were restructured, so that they departed from Lombard’s organization and focused on sophismata. Third, schools of thought disappeared, and more emphasis was placed on individual thinking than on system building. Finally, new logical, physical and mathematical ideas were applied to theological issues ([16.8] 111–14). The size of Sentences commentaries at Paris does not seem to have shrunk appreciably after 1343, although we must remember that the size of commentaries depended on whether they were revised by the author into longer forms (ordinationes). The structuring of commentaries is a different matter. Here we find that after 1343 theologians such as Mirecourt, Henry Totting of Oyta, Peter d’Ailly and Peter of Candia do depart from Lombard’s distinction organization, the last three, writing in the 1370s, asking a mere handful of very large questions. Still, many stuck close to Lombard’s system, such as John of Ripa and John Hiltalingen of Basel. And even Mirecourt and Candia followed Lombard’s basic order, usually finishing off their commentaries on the first book with questions on divine knowledge, foreknowledge, power and will. Moreover, some of this was already present in, for example, Francis of Marchia. Although Marchia superficially keeps to Lombard’s distinctions, the contents of the questions do not correspond to Lombard’s. Thus in one version Marchia devoted all of distinctions 35, 36, 38 and 39 to future contingents. It is a difficult question as to whether school traditions existed in an important way in Paris before 1343, or whether there was a big change afterwards. Both before and after 1343, mendicants for the most part kept their discussion within their own orders, at least. The traditional view, however, has been that Paris was pretty much a Scotist university in these early decades, or that Parisians were less individualistic than their Oxford counterparts. We have seen that there are a few examples of reading secundum alium, hardly an original activity. It is also true that Marchia and Caracciolo, for example, had their own groups of close followers on certain issues, and that many theologians were content to modify a Scotist account in reply to Aureoli. The trend of paraphrasing and even copying others continued, however, long after the Oxford currents had been absorbed into the Paris environment. But how do we assess this situation? Their aim continued to be system building: Aureoli had a new system; Marchia tried to develop a new system, leaving much of Scotus behind; his followers tried to hammer it out; Rimini himself wanted a system. The Parisian scholars may have looked at the big picture more than did those at Oxford, who focused on individual problems. This does not mean that Parisians did not criticize. They had no choice but to be fundamentally negative in their works in response to Peter Aureoli’s complete revision of most aspects of philosophical theology. It is simply that after their attacks on Aureoli, they tended to either develop new systems or seek refuge in old ones. It did no good if one’s ideas did not hold together, after all. Especially telling in this regard was a tendency, already in Wilton and later in Bonet (at least in future contingents), to throw up one’s hands where no systematic solution could be found. This is exactly what Hiltalingen and Candia did later on (see [16.20] 713, 804). Finally, there is the new logic, mathematics and physics in theology. This was a trend already evident in Paris in the late 1310s and 1320s in the writings of Aureoli, Marchia, Massa and Odon. Scholars of the 1340s make increasing use of Oxford geometrical, mathematical and logical ‘measure’ language to discuss such topics in philosophical theology as the infinite, already one of Rimini’s favourite subjects. Even if the new language of Oxford was not developed in Paris, certainly the problems associated with and presupposed in that language were explored before 1343, however. In this way, Oxford thought reinforced a Parisian trend already in motion, and the writings of Rimini, Mirecourt and Ceffons abound with the fruits of the new merger, both in terms of new tools and in terms of new topics. Ceffons even develops the tools and techniques further (see [16.16], [16.18]). Ultimately, the safest basis for claiming that English scholarship played a big new role in Paris after 1343 is citations. One need look no further than the master of citations himself, the Augustinian John Hiltalingen of Basel, who lectured on the Sentences at Paris in 1365– 6. He cited some twenty Oxford scholars from the previous fifty years, and in his discussion of foreknowledge and predestination alone, Hiltalingen cited Bradwardine, Heytesbury, Richard of Kilvington, Wodeham, Fitzralph and Nicholas Aston (see [16.27] 242–50; [16.20] 789–807). English thought had permanently penetrated the ‘mainstream’ of European philosophy by 1365. One finds impressive numbers of English citations in the 1340s with Rimini and Hugolino of Orvieto. In many places John of Mirecourt’s commentary appears to be a simple matter of cutting and pasting from Wodeham, Halifax, Bradwardine, Kilvington, Langeley and Buckingham, which suggests that Parisians may have used Oxford material, without attribution, to show off and gain a reputation as innovators (see [16.12]). This may even be the case with Rimini himself. It is telling that in the period after Scotus, Rimini’s editors found that he cited Aureoli and Ockham about 200 times each. Only three other scholars between 1320 and 1343 have more than ten references in Rimini: Wodeham (66), Fitzralph (34) and Burley (58), although the editors have found a few references to several other theologians from the period on both sides of the Channel. It is hard to believe that Rimini would treat Aureoli so often while ignoring the intervening Parisian debates which undoubtedly provided ammunition. As we have seen, Rimini was less likely to cite Parisians explicitly (although he used their material), but it is also the case that English citations and ideas would have been more interesting to an audience who had heard all of the anti-Aureoli arguments before. CONCLUSION There is no doubt that Oxford thought between 1315 and 1340 was truly exciting. The main reason for this was that more English scholars simply stayed at home. There is also little doubt that Rimini to a large extent was responsible for first explicitly introducing many of the stimulating English developments into the Parisian discussion, and that English thought outside of natural philosophy and logic was largely ignored in Paris in the meantime, at least until around 1330, when Walter Chatton’s Sentences commentary was probably available in Paris. But Rimini’s Aureoli citations and much present research show that there is also considerable evidence that Parisian theology, at least until the 1330s, continued to be illuminated by brilliant minds as it had before 1318 and as it would after 1343. What happened after 1343 was that newer English techniques and even English theological problems further enriched what was already a lively affair at the continental university. After 1343, in future contingents for example, there are more issues to discuss. But from the period 1318 to 1343, Oxford, although to a lesser extent than Paris, was not conversant with trends in the other city, and in many cases awareness of, say, the Parisian debate on future contingents, would have stimulated the English treatment of the same issue. Whether Oxford thought was ‘better’ than Parisian thought in this period, or vice versa, is in the final analysis a matter of taste. Modern taste thus far has leaned heavily toward Oxford. Late medieval and Early Modern tastes, perhaps more conservatively, went in the direction of Paris. It really does not matter. Surely, however, the continued flourishing of Paris and the unique developments at Oxford between 1315 and 1350 can only mean a high point in European philosophy generally, both universities contributing and deserving further study. NOTES 1. On Burley’s reaction to Ockham, see above, Chapter 15, pp. 369–77; on Buridan and the Summa logicae, see John Buridan [16.2] xxx–xxxv. 2. For Paris there are all or part of the Sentences commentaries of Durandus, Aureoli, Meyronnes, Baconthorpe, Landulph Caracciolo, Gerard of Siena, William of Rubione, Strasbourg and Aquila, and Nicholas Bonet’s Natural Theology; for Oxford, those of Ockham, Holcot, Wodeham and Buckingham, and Bradwardine’s De causa Dei. 3. For some Oxford theologians, see above, Chapter 14, pp. 354–5; for Paris, Aureoli’s contribution to the dispute is edited by Schabel [16.4] and Peter of Navarre’s in Petrus de Navarra [16.3]. 4. See above, Chapter 15, pp. 380–1 and cf. Schabel [16.4] 75–8, 175–80. 5. Some of these issues are discussed in Chapter 17, below: see especially pp. 410– 11 (complexly significables). 6. [16.24] 276, 290; and see above, Chapter 14, pp. 330, 333, 346 and 348–9 on Chatton and Wodeham. BIBLIOGRAPHY Original Language Editions 16.1 Brown, S.F. ‘Peter Aureol: De unitate conceptus entis (Reportatio Parisiensis in I Sententiarum dist. 2, p. 1, qq. 1–3 et p. 2, qq. 1–2)’, Traditio 50 (1995): 199–248. 16.2 John Buridan Questiones Elencorum, ed. R.van der Lecq and H.Braakhuis, Nijmegen, 1994. 16.3 Peter of Navarre In Primum Sententiarum Scriptum I, ed. P.Azcona, Madrid, 1974. 16.4 Schabel, C. ‘Peter Aureol on divine foreknowledge and future contingents: Scriptum in Primum Librum Sententiarum, distinctions 38–39’, CIMAGL 65 (1995): 63–212. Studies 16.5 Catto, J.I. ‘Theology after Wycliffism’, in Catto and R.Evans (eds) The History of the University of Oxford, vol. II, Late Medieval Oxford, Oxford, 1992, pp. 263–80. 16.6 Courtenay, W.J. ‘The early stages in the introduction of Oxford logic into Italy’, in A.Maierù (ed.) English Logic in Italy in the 14th and 15th Centuries, Naples, 1982, pp. 13–22. 16.7 ——‘The reception of Ockham’s thought at the University of Paris’, in Z. Kaluza and P.Vignaux (eds) Logique, ontologie, théologie au XIVe siècle: preuve et raisons à l’Université de Paris, Paris, 1984, pp. 43–64. 16.8 ——‘The role of English thought in the transformation of university education in the late Middle Ages’, in J.Kittelson and P.Transue (eds) Rebirth, Reform, and Resilience: Universities in Transition 1300–1700, Columbus, Ohio, 1984, pp. 103–62. 16.9 ——Schools and Scholars in Fourteenth-century England, Princeton, NJ, 1987. 16.10 ——‘The registers of the University of Paris and the statutes against the Scientia Occamica, Vivarium 29 (1991): 13–49. 16.11 ——‘Theology and theologians from Ockham to Wyclif’, in The History of the University of Oxford, vol. II, 1992, pp. 1–34. 16.12 Genest, J-F. and Vignaux, P. ‘La bibliothèque anglaise de Jean de Mirecourt: subtilitas ou plagiat?’, in O.Pluta (ed.) Die Philosophie im 14. und 15. Jahrhundert. In memoriam Konstanty Michalski (1879–1947), Amsterdam, 1988, pp. 275–301. 16.13 Kaluza, Z. ‘Serbi un sasso il nome: une inscription de San Gimignano et la rencontre entre Bernard d’Arezzo et Nicolas d’Autrecourt’, Historia Philosophiae Medii Aevi 1 (1991): 437–66. 16.14 Michalski, K. Le Criticisme et le scepticisme dans la philosophie du XIVe siècle, Cracow, 1926; repr. in Michalski, La Philosophie au XIVe siècle, ed. K. Flasch, Frankfurt, 1969, pp. 67–149. 16.15 ——Les Courants critiques et sceptiques dans la philosophie du XIVe siècle, Cracow, 1927; repr. in Michalski, La Philosophie au XIVe siècle, 1969, pp. 151–203. 16.16 Murdoch, J. ‘Mathesis in philosophiam scholasticam introducta’. The rise and development of the application of mathematics in fourteenth-century philosophy and theology’, in Arts Libéraux et Philosophie au Moyen Âge, Montreal, 1969, pp. 215–49. 16.17 ——‘From social into intellectual factors: an aspect of the unitary character of late medieval learning’, in Murdoch and E.Sylla (eds) The Cultural Context of Medieval Learning, Dordrecht, 1975, pp. 271–348. 16.18 ——‘Subtilitates Anglicanae in fourteenth-century Paris: John of Mirecourt and Peter Ceffons’, in M.Cosman and B.Chandler (eds) Machaut’s World: Science and Art in the Fourteenth Century, New York, 1978, pp. 51–86. 16.19 Sarnowsky, J. ‘Natural philosophy at Oxford and Paris in the mid-fourteenth century’, in A.Hudson and M.Wilks (eds) From Ockham to Wyclif, Oxford, 1987, pp. 125–34. 16.20 Schabel, C. ‘The quarrel with Aureol: Peter Aureol’s role in the late-medieval debate over divine foreknowledge and future contingents, 1315–1475’, Ph.D. dissertation, University of Iowa, 1994. 16.21 ——‘Peter de Rivo and the quarrel over future contingents at Louvain: new evidence and new perspectives (Part I)’, in Documenti e studi sulla tradizione filosofica medievale 6 (1995): 363–473. 16.22 ——‘Peter de Rivo and the quarrel over future contingents at Louvain: new evidence and new perspectives (Part II)’, Documenti e studi sulla tradizione filosofica medievale 7 (1996): 369–435. 16.23 Schabel, C. and Friedman, R.L. ‘The vitality of Franciscan theology at Paris in the 1320s: MS Wien Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Palatinus 1439’, Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du moyen âge 63 (1996): 357–72. 16.24 Tachau, K. Vision and Certitude in the Age of Ockham: Optics, Epistemology, and the Foundations of Semantics 1250–1345, Leiden, 1988. 16.25 Thijssen, J.M.M.H. ‘John Buridan and Nicholas of Autrecourt on causality and induction’, Traditio 43 (1987): 237–55. 16.26 ——‘Once again the Ockhamist statutes of 1339 and 1340: some new perspectives’, Vivarium 28 (1990): 136–67. 16.27 Trapp, D. ‘Augustinian theology in the 14th century’, Augustiniana 6 (1956): 146–274.

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  • Aureoli, Peter — See Walter Burley, Peter Aureoli and Gregory of Rimini, see Paris and Oxford between Aureoli and Rimini, see Intellectual context (The) of later medieval philosophy: universities, Aristotle, arts, theology …   History of philosophy

  • Gregory of Rimini — See Walter Burley, Peter Aureoli and Gregory of Rimini, see Paris and Oxford between Aureoli and Rimini, see Intellectual context (The) of later medieval philosophy: universities, Aristotle, arts, theology …   History of philosophy

  • Walter Burley, Peter Aureoli and Gregory of Rimini — Stephen Brown THE END OF THE GREAT ERA Immediately after the glorious age of Bonaventure and Thomas Aquinas, the University of Paris, as we have seen, had a number of outstanding teachers. Henry of Ghent, following in the path of Bonaventure, was …   History of philosophy

  • Peter of Navarre — See Paris and Oxford between Aureoli and Rimini …   History of philosophy

  • Intellectual context (The) of later medieval philosophy: universities, Aristotle, arts, theology — The intellectual context of later medieval philosophy: universities, Aristotle, arts, theology Stephen Brown ORIGIN OF THE UNIVERSITIES A number of medieval towns in the twelfth century owed a large portion of their renown to their schools.… …   History of philosophy

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