A note from Monkeylover: This was originally a small paper written for a summer term many years ago. At one time, it lived happily here before I nuked all of my nodes. I'm still struggling to replace things because it is so tedious. Node your homework

Aristotle and the University of Paris in Medieval Western Thought

The story of Aristotle’s reintroduction into Western thought is intimately tied to the emergence of a university in 13th century Paris. Considered separately, these two events chronicle different aspects of the ascent of the High Middle Ages. Taken together, they provide a unique view into the intellectual, political, and social world of Europe during the 1200s. Reflective of wider changes in Latin Christendom, their story illustrates the beginning of the end for a world bound within the confines of orthodoxy that culminates in the upheavals of the 16th century. The period is marked on each side by Aristotle’s two greatest proponents, the death of Averroes in 1198 and the canonization of Thomas Aquinas in 1323. Between these years the fortunes of both the Greek and his disciples rise and fall with the religio-political currents that pass through Paris. It is important to note what factors lead to this shift in order to understand its impact when it occurs.

First, consideration must be given to Aristotle’s disappearance. In exploring the Philosopher’s circuitous trek through the intellectual basin of the Mediterranean we pass the encyclopedic Boethius, Arabic diffusion, the first wave of translators, and the rise of Scholasticism, until finally settling in Spain at the deathbed of Averroes. At the same time, in the cathedral schools of Paris, we find the rise of the urban population and the early years of organizational chaos that coalesce into the University. After studying these decades leading up to the 13th century, we next must consider their collision in the years between 1200 and 1215. In these years the battle between factions within and without the Church will often be raged under the question of Aristotelian orthodoxy. However, the work of Thomas Aquinas will create a new respect for Aristotelianism within the universities of Europe. Finally, in the struggles of the 1260s and 1270s we will see questions of authority once again threaten the teaching of Aristotle.

In the centuries of transition from the order and stability of the Roman Empire to the local pockets of power that marked the Early Middle Ages, Western thought in the form of classical learning experienced a dramatic recession. This phenomenon can be attributed to two causes: the changing shape of education and the growing isolation of communities from a once Empire-spanning network. The first cause prevented the passing of ancient learning from one generation to the next, while the second ensured that what learning did survive rarely left the confines of its own locality. In education, the Roman model necessitated having fewer children but investing heavily in their intellectual growth. This included personal tutors and a high demand for literacy. However, as the reigns of power in Europe passed from Roman to German hands, so did the common education model morph from one that stressed education as a necessary training for an active role in Empire to one that required more skill with swords than words.1

The Church alone remained an exception to this. Here, however, the second cause took greater effect. Isolation in the increasingly popular monastic communities meant that a large amount of Europe’s intellectual wealth remained disconnected. Only when the Cluniac reforms and the relative stability of the late 10th century arrive do travel become commonplace among the different coenobitic communities. What remains continuous of classical learning is preserved by these clergymen, and they provide the nucleus for scattered spikes in learning, such as the Carolingian Renaissance. Through these efforts ancient learning is preserved and transmitted to later centuries.

Among this reduced world of learning in what once was called the ‘Dark’ Ages, some learned men recognized the need to preserve the works of antiquity, Aristotle included. Of these, Boethius compiled what had survived and was still available of Aristotle’s works in the West into compact editions. While Aristotle wrote on a variety of topics, those which most dominate the Western mind and the University of Paris in the 12th and 13th century discussed the dialectic. Boethius’s edition only included two of these logical treatises by Aristotle, Categories and De interpretatione. These, through his efforts, would be the only surviving dialectical works by Aristotle in the West until the 12th century. Once other Aristotelian dialectical treatises were reintroduced, these two came to be known as the Old Logic.2

Meanwhile, during the last half of the first millennium, a new force spread through the Mediterranean basin. Islam assailed the Greeks in Anatolia, the Italians in Sicily, and the Visigoths in Spain. Moslem forces controlled many of the ancient centers of learning, including Alexandria and the centers of Persian culture in the Middle East. By 1000 C.E. these forces had been entrenched for several centuries, and they were splintered into several independent political units. The stalemate reached between Islamic and Christian forces along a line dividing the Mediterranean over time provided a stable frontier for the exchange of ideas. This exchange was especially rich in the Caliphate of Spain, where Islamic scholars congregated at Córdoba. Here the first wave of the reintroduction of Aristotle into Western thought occurred.3

By the beginning of the 12th century Europeans had once again focused their interest outward. Crusades poured into the Near East, Normans fought and won a battle for control of Sicily, and both Christian and Islamic leaders harried at each other. Within this renewed interest arose a need to understand the tenets of Islam in order to refute them. Europe was largely ignorant of Arabic thought. This began to change at one of the most fruitful of the centers of cultural exchange, Toledo, a city north of Córdoba that shared its borders with Christian, Jewish, and Islamic communities. Here, in the second quarter of the 12th century Raymond, Archbishop of Toledo, began a project to translate works of Arabic into Latin. The scholars entrusted with this task were John Avendeath (Johannes Hispanus) and Dominic Gondisalvi. Other scholars, including Gerard of Cremona, Hermann of Carinthia, and Adelard of Bath, undertook similar projects. An important connection between many of the Christian scholars and their Arabic counterparts lay in a group of Jewish scholars, including Savasorda, Abraham ben Ezra, and John of Seville. These men often acted as an intermediary, having command of both Latin and Arabic. During these projects of discovery the works of Aristotle preserved by Islamic thinkers began to filter into Latin Christendom. Now, in addition to the Old Logic preserved by Boethius, Western thinkers were exposed to Aristotle’s remaining works on the dialectic. These included the Prior Analytics, Posterior Analytics, Topics, and Elenchi all of which came to be known as the New Logic. It is important to note that this first period of translation in Spain did not provide sources direct from the Greek, but instead often included a lineage of translation that passed from Greek to Syriac to Arabic to Latin. By 1200 all of Aristotle’s remaining works of logic were available to Western intellectuals.4

What was the effect of this new influx of Aristotelian thought, and why did scholars pursue it in the first place? Prior to the middle of the 12th century, Plato had been the most important pagan philosopher to Latin Christendom. However, the new works available from Aristotle greatly swelled his existing opus. In an age almost neurotic about authority, seen in the importance placed on the Testaments and books of the Church Fathers, Aristotle’s wide range of interest covered almost every subject imaginable. As Charles Haskins notes, “Aristotle … through his compact, clear-cut, and systematic style of presentation, appealed to an age which loved manuals and textbooks and found these under Aristotle’s name in almost every field of philosophy and science.”5 Specifically, Aristotle’s dialectics became available at a unique point in Western thought when intellectual perspectives shifted within orthodox Church doctrine.

At about the same time scholars in Spain were undertaking the translation projects changes in traditional Church doctrine began to take place. As towns grew with the renewal of an outward-reaching Europe and a larger number of students in the cathedral schools were secular in nature, a noticeable split emerged in the traditional curriculum. Prior to the 12th century a largely conservative mindset dominated learning. The ancient trivium and quadrivium held sway for centuries as the ultimate aim of an educated individual. The trivium, grammar, rhetoric, and logic, served as the foundation on which the quadrivium, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music, followed. Of these, rhetoric traditionally dominated as the most important subject. Emphasizing expression over reasoning, a curriculum dominated by rhetoric looked more to past teaching for model and guidance rather than seeking out new lines of inquiry. This began to change in the first decades of the 1100s as factions emerged within the educated Masters of the cathedral schools.

The split over emphasis in curricula can be generalized into two groups, the realist and the nominalist. Tracing their ideas as far back as Plato’s Ideals, the realists were represented by the traditional curriculum, and their most notable leader at this time was Anselm. Anselm viewed the universe through a Platonic perspective. God exists because we know of him through faith, and reason can only supplement that certainty. For Anselm and the realists the Bible was the ultimate authority on everything in the physical as well as spiritual world. Theology and philosophy looked to the same source for ultimate authority. The nominalists, on the other hand, thought reason (the dialectic) was as important as traditional sources of authority. Representing the nominalists, John the Sophist called reason “the searcher out of the common conceptions of the mind.”6 More than any other, Peter Abelard, pupil of both the realist William of Champeaux and the nominalist Roscelin, embodied the new approach to education that grew out of this split.

Abelard represented a new individual within the Church. Intelligent, stubborn, and fiercely proud, he had little exposure to Aristotle’s dialectical works but was one of the first scholars to rise on the growing wave of applied logic. Studying at the turn of the 11th century, Abelard repeatedly quarreled with his teachers at the cathedral schools in Paris. Before receiving the licentiate, a traditional acknowledgement by the Masters to lawfully hold classes, Abelard began holding lectures of his own. His lectures applied critical thinking and the distinctions of logic to universal questions, and together with his charismatic oration, attracted large numbers of students. This new and exciting approach to learning he modeled in his Sic et non, as well as earlier works such as On the Divine Unity and Trinity. The Masters at Paris, however, were not ready for such a potentially dangerous method to be unleashed on students by an unlicensed teacher. Abelard was condemned first in 1121 at the Council of Soissons for his methods in On the Divine Unity and Trinity. Poole claims, “The charge against him was that he had imported his nominalism into the domain of theology.”7 In the following years Abelard experienced exile to northern France, involved himself in an illicit love affair, and again lectured to the many students who sought this exciting teacher. Ultimately, conservative reformers like Bernard of Clairveaux, realizing the potential danger of this rising movement, had Abelard condemned again. He died soon after, in 1142, but his method of logical analyses of the different sides of an argument, and his audacity in applying this method to Church discrepancies in the Sic et non, deeply impacted the intellectual environment of Western Europe just as the remainder of Aristotle’s dialectical works began filtering north through Córdoba and Toledo.8

As this new Scholastic method began taking root in the population of students at Paris and Aristotle’s remaining works became available, events around the cathedral schools were slowly creating a new institution, the university. Throughout the 12th century the fame of individual teachers at Paris, especially Abelard, had drawn students from across Europe. The city was served by three cathedral schools, but by the close of the century internal politics and power struggles had consolidated these into one central school, the cathedral school of Notre Dame. Abelard’s impact ran deep. Students increasingly concentrated on the philosophical arts as ends in themselves. Rashdall, the great historian of the medieval university, notes, “The mastership in the philosophical faculty became the natural goal of every student’s ambition and the usual if not essential preliminary to study in the higher faculties. Hence the enormous multiplication of masters, and especially of very young masters, which was one of the immediate causes of the growth of the university.”9 Rashdall’s emphasis on the relative youth of this new influx of Masters is important. As the fame of Paris rose near the end of the 12th century and students, masters, and servants poured into the growing city their economic impact reverberated as far as the royal coffers. The young students and Masters spent their evenings in pubs and lodged throughout the city. During the 13th century this fact, combined with their ability to organize as a unit, will play a crucial role in the development of the University and the inclusion of Aristotle therein.

The development of the University of Paris in the 13th century can be divided into three main periods. In the first, spanning 1200-1228, the Masters of the Arts faculty, the local bishop and University chancellor, and the Crown and Papacy all interacted in a political struggle over control of University affairs. During this period the Arts faculty had a strong ally in Innocent III, himself a past student of the Parisian Masters. Organizing much more rapidly than the faculties of Theology, Canon Law, or Medicine in response to aggression between townfolk and students, the Arts faculty also benefited from royal support. This period culminated in 1228-1229, when as a group the Arts Masters, responding to perceived injustices from the Chancellor and local ecclesiastical officials, staged a dispersion that sent them to competing universities in Europe. These years saw the establishment of written statutes, a well-defined hierarchy, and the use of seals within the Arts faculty. However, the period was marked by hostility towards much of the Arts faculty. This hostility, although tied into the political power struggles of the early University, sprang from a renewed conservative backlash against the introduction of dialect into theological questions. Begun 60 years earlier with the condemnation of Abelard, by 1210 these forces concentrated their efforts on suppressing the new Aristotle within the Arts faculty at Paris.10

The second period in the history of the University of Paris in the 13th century spans from 1230 to 1270. In these four decades the Arts faculty acquires its most solid control of its own affairs and exemption from outside interference while at the same time enjoying the highest amount of prestige. These years are the period of Aristotle’s highest renown during the High Middle Ages, as teachers like Albert the Great and Thomas Aquinas work to mend the breach between Aristotelian thought and Church doctrine. Yet the success of this period leads to an overzealous (and uncareful) Arts faculty led by Siger of Brabant in the 1260s. His struggle for the rectorship acts as the fulcrum which turns the fortunes of the Masters once again. From 1270 until the end of the century, momentum returns to the conservative faction as a string of condemnations and trials attempt to limit certain teachings. However, Aristotle (and by extension the use of dialectic in learning and education) survives these final decades to emerge as a dominant source of authority for many subjects. By considering each of these periods in greater detail a clear picture of this struggle emerges.11

The first period begins in the year 1200. While some scholars cite this year as the founding of the University, the institutions it comprised were largely in place by the 1170s. Their main argument stems from a charter to the school in this year by Phillip Augustus. This charter resulted from a violent quarrel between a body of students and Masters and local merchants. Following this, other important legal actions highlight the first period. In 1210 a ban was placed on teaching Aristotle’s Physics and Metaphysics and this ban was renewed first in 1215 by the papal representative Robert Curzon and again in 1228. In 1209 and 1210 the University acquired written statutes and the right to sue and be sued. These important steps were meant to defend the Masters from an ideological and political assault emanating from the local bishop and the position of chancellor, an office designed to control the old cathedral schools.12

As discussed earlier, this hostility was the result of mounting tension in response to the last half of the 12th century. During that time Scholasticism, with its use of dialectical reasoning as a method to understand the deepest mysteries of theology, had exploded onto the academic world. No example better illustrated this than Aristotle, whose increasingly available works served as models for the new learning. Now empowered with the personal ability to reason out beliefs rather than accepting them on faith, students looked less and less to the traditional methods of education for the answers they sought. Reactionary forces to this new movement, less equipped to deal with the intangible intellectual method rather than the tangible books of its prime example, focused their energies on Aristotle. Their main point of attack centered on the doctrine followed by the Arabic commentators. When passages from Aristotle differed from or directly contradicted traditional sources of orthodoxy, these commentators pursued what became known as the ‘double truth’. In this approach they held that what might be philosophically true, i.e. a divergent passage of Aristotle, could be theologically false. Such fine distinctions were unacceptable to defenders of the traditional authority of Church Doctrine, and in their view such an argument acted as an intellectual shield against outright heresy. Pursuing this line of attack the conservative forces were successful in at least limiting the official exposure of certain Aristotelian works during this period. However, in the second period (1230-1270) the situation changed in favor of the old Greek once again.13

The middle third of the 13th century saw an important step in Western intellectual growth. During these years many secular rulers realized the benefits of the new universities. Thus, in this period the first great wave of expansion in European universities began, and it was marked by a tug-of-war between ecclesiastical and secular rulers as the first group attempted to retain control of its educational monopoly while the second attempted to extend their presence into this new realm. This rise in universities matched the explosion of urban populations now fully underway. At the same time, a new order, the Dominicans, working within the urban centers to neutralize spreading heresies, entered the realm of the universities seeking to target society’s future elite. One of their number, Thomas Aquinas, worked consistently to improve the standing of Aristotle and hasten his acceptance into official curriculum.

Italian by birth, Aquinas studied at the University of Naples before joining the Dominicans in 1244. In the following years Aquinas continued his studies, and under Albert the Great (1248-1252) he obtained a respect and admiration for the full works of Aristotle. By 1252 Paris had attracted the budding scholastic as he entered his theological studies. At this same time the Dominican order had successfully obtained two out of the twelve chairs in the Theology faculty. Their influence within the faculty was hotly debated, and the entrance of Aquinas at this time and his interest in Aristotelian studies produced his first two works on the subject, On Being and Essence and On the Principles of Nature. These works were followed after his completion of studies by his Summa contra Gentiles. These works had an immediate impact on the influence of Aristotelian studies within the University.14

In these works, especially the Summa contra Gentiles, Aquinas sought to mend the earlier break between traditional Church doctrine and the perceived threat of the new Aristotle. As Gordon Leff has noted, “If ‘Latin Averroism’ was essentially the arts faculty’s espousal of Aristotle as an end in himself, Thomism was the response of theology in harnessing him to faith.”15 At the same time, Aquinas carefully remained within the confines of established orthodoxy. During this period, he performed an additional service to the study of Aristotle by persuading another Dominican, William of Moerbeke, to provide new translations of the Philosopher’s work from the now more readily available Greek sources following the Crusades (notably, the sack of Constantinople in 1204). This second wave of translations, led by Moerbeke, greatly improved Western editions.16

Aquinas’s work at Paris, later the foundation of his greatest work the Summa Theologiae, combined with the renewed interest in Aristotle throughout the Arts faculty to produce a body of students devoted to mastering his works. By the end of the 1250s, Aristotle’s works were part of the required reading at the University, only two decades after being banned by Papal censure. However, this rising surge, seemingly unimpeded throughout the second period of the University’s history in the 13th century, crashed down in 1270, carrying many of the most notable Aristotelians with it.

In the 1260s the Arts faculty at Paris became engaged in a debate over Aristotle’s theory of the eternity of the world. An obvious contradiction to the story of Creation as found in the Old Testament, the Masters argued with John Pecham, a Franciscan scholar who represented the conservative tradition. Aquinas remained at a distance in this debate, and by 1270 traveled from Paris to Italy where he would remain until his death in 1274. The absence of his moderating influence and high personal reputation created vulnerability in the Aristotelians who had so recently seemed beyond reproach. In addition, in these last years of the 1260s their most outspoken proponent, Siger of Brabant, became entangled in a bitter political dispute within the University. Siger’s eventual defeat marked a return to the conservative perspective while it also acted to limit the propositions of the new Aristotelians.17

Siger, together with Boethius of Dacia, represented some of the most radical elements within the Arts faculty. He studied from 1255 to 1260 at the University and then spent the next five years becoming a Master in the Arts. Within one year Siger found himself at odds with University officials. Sharing many of the attributes that had made Abelard both an exciting teacher and stubborn individual, Siger pushed the logical extension of Aristotle’s most controversial subjects to their bounds. Boethius of Dacia sat on the faculty by 1270, and his works and those of Siger were the target of a condemnation by Etienne Tempier in that same year. Traditional scholarship has viewed these condemnations as a response to the later works of Thomas Aquinas who sought to clarify the issues surrounding the eternity of the world debate. However, recent study reveals that these condemnations, in 1270 and 1277, were an attempt to moderate the teachings of the Arts Masters. Indeed, at this point a shift within the traditional factions becomes evident. The conservative group, now represented by advocates of the approach of Aquinas, attempt to curtail the radical teachings of the Arts faculty represented by Siger and Boethius. Such a shift reveals to what an extent Aristotle had been embraced within orthodox circles through the work of Aquinas. Speaking of one of the sets of condemnations from this time, Leland Wilshire notes, “The Oxford Condemnations were in many respects an attempt to rescue Aristotle for the Christian cause rather than an attempt to curtail study of this thinker.”18 Thus, while the final period of the 13th century is a reaction against radical Aristotelianism, it is not a reaction against Aristotle himself.

This period of reaction begins with Tempier’s original condemnations in 1270, but the full effect of the reaction does not occur until 1277. In January of that year Pope John XXI, representing a Papacy far removed from the patronage of the Masters found in Innocent III, issued a concerned letter to Tempier about certain radical Aristotelian teachings. Tempier, whose seat as Bishop of Paris had traditionally been at odds with the University, responded by publishing a series of 219 condemnations on March 7, 1277. Within weeks Robert Kilwardby, a Patron at Merton College, issued a similar set of condemnations to Oxford University. A month later, on April 28, Pope John XXI sent a second letter directing those Masters suspected of holding the condemned beliefs to be investigated.19

Kilwardby was in contact with a student at Paris, Peter of Conflans, and through him received a second-hand account of the radical Aristotelians. It has been suggested that Tempier also drew much of his knowledge of the controversial topics not from direct exposure to the suspected Masters but from the accounts of students. These student’s misunderstandings of the lectures could have played a considerable role in taking lectures originally innocent enough and misinterpreting them into damnable heresy. However, there is no doubt that some of Tempier’s condemnations are a direct result of the most radical doctrines of men like Siger and Boethius. Tempier’s first condemned thesis directly attack the new attitudes of these men, as he forbids the ideas “That there is no more excellent state than to study philosophy,” and “That man should not be content with authority to have certitude about any question.”20 Tempier also includes comments against Averroistic statements, such as “That it is impossible to refute the arguments of the Philosopher concerning the eternity of the world unless we say that the will of the first being embraces incompatibles.”21 These condemnations served as a final blow in halting the advance of radical Aristotelianism. Siger, whose unsuccessful political struggle for the rectorship within the University in 1276 had earned him a visit by the Holy Office of the Inquisition, might have continued to affect students through his memory at the University, even after his expulsion to Italy, were it not for these condemnations.

In England the conservative reaction stretched on for another decade. Oxford University was not a center of philosophical studies in the way that Paris had been. For many years the impetus at Oxford moved more toward the sciences. Under Robert Grosseteste (1175-1253) math and science played a much more significant role in the course of studies. For this reason, radical Aristotelianism at Oxford lacked the impact or focus found at Paris, and compounded by Kilwardby’s indirect knowledge of the debates, resistance came slower here than on the Continent. In 1278 Dominican representatives traveled to the University to insure the good memory of Aquinas in the wake of Kilwardby’s condemnations. Not until 1284 did the issue reach a finality found in Paris almost a decade earlier. In this year John Pecham, the Franciscan who had led the conservative reaction back in the 1260s, ascended to the position of Archbishop of Canterbury. He spent the next two years adding to Kilwardby’s original condemnations and this culminated in a leading Aristotelian, Richard Knapwell, being expelled to Italy in 1286.22

In the years that followed, a second wave of university expansion swept Europe. The excitement that marked the first decades of the 13th century, due to the emergence of the dialectical approach and the reintroduction of Aristotle, had been replaced by the acceptance of Aristotle as an authority but one within restricted theological bounds. Thomas Aquinas succeeded in mending the Philospher with Christian orthodoxy, and his high reputation is evident in the speed in which he was canonized (1323). However, this acceptance as a traditional authority marked a turning point in the Middle Ages. Advances in certain fields, especially the sciences, would be delayed for centuries as later scholars faced the accepted irrefutability of certain Aristotelian works. At the same time, however, the rise of dialectical reasoning, applied in a slightly altered form, eventually served as the instrument with which this authority would be broken in the 17th century.23

The importance of Aristotle’s reintroduction into Western thought is difficult to overstate. With the rise in dialectic in the cathedral schools in the 12th century a new method emerged for Western scholars use. At the same time, translations arriving from Toledo and Córdoba provided those scholars with a model of application, and a guide for further research. The melding of these events within the settings of the University of Paris created a century of intellectual excitement as Westerners questioned traditional teachings. This questioning attitude sometimes led to heresy, as with Siger and Boethius, while at others provided a renewed vigor to Church doctrine, as seen in Thomas Aquinas. The result, evident in the conservative swing of the pendulum in the last third of the 13th century, is an intellectual tradition firmly entrenched with an Aristotelian legacy framed within a Christian consciousness.

1 David Herlihy, Medieval Households (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1985), 54.

2 Charles Homer Haskins, The Renaissance of the Twelfth Century (New York: Meridian Books, 1957), 287-297, 345.

3 Ibid., 281-287. For a comprehensive discussion of the spread of Islam during this period see J.L. Esposito, Islam: The Straight Path (New 

York: Oxford University Press, 1998), chs. 2-3.

4 Hastings Rashdall, The Universities of Europe in the Middle Ages, vol. I (London: Oxford University Press, 1895), 351-357.  This section 

also relies heavily on Haskins, The Renaissance of the Twelfth Century, 281-346.  And also Gordon Leff, Medieval Thought: St. Augustine to Ockham 

(Chicago: Quadrangle Books, 1958), 171-172.

5 Haskins, The Renaissance of the Twelfth Century, 343.

6 Reginald Lane Poole, Illustrations of the History of Medieval Thought and Learning (New York: Dover Publications, 1920), 87, 88-89.

7 Poole, 130.

8 Ibid., 93-145.

9 Rashdall, 289.

10 Ibid., 353-357.  See also Haskins, Renaissance, 363-365.

11 Ibid., 357-363.

12 Jacque Le Goff, Intellectuals in the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Blackwell Publishers, 1993), 109-110.  And Rashdall, 297-337.

13 Le Goff, 108-109.  And Leff, 171-172.

14 Anthony Kenny, Aquinas (New York: Hill and Wang, 1980), 1-5.

15 Leff, 179.

16 Kenny, 13.  And Leff, 175.

17 Leland Edward Wilshire, “The Condemnations of 1277 and the Intellectual Climate of the Medieval University,” in The Intellectual Climate 

of the Early University (Kalamazoo: Medieval Institute Publications, 1997), 161-177.

18 Wilshire, 167.  Wilshire discusses in detail the interplay between Siger, Boethius, and the conservative faction, 157-162.

19 Ibid., 151-155.  And also Le Goff, 110-112.

20 C. Warren Hollister, Joe Leedom, Marc Meyer, and David Spear, Medieval Europe: A Short Sourcebook (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1997), 252-253.

21 Ibid., 253.

22 Wilshire, 164-177.

23 For a discussion of the politics of university expansion during the 13th century, see Arno Borst, Medieval Worlds: Barbarians, Heretics, 

and Artists in the Middle Ages (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), 167-175.  As well as Charles Homer Haskins, The Rise of the Universities 

(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1923.), 1-21.

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