Finding Middle Ground in Medieval Education

By: Joel Bentley

It is no secret that religion dominated almost every facet of life in the Middle Ages. Anything ranging from how one addressed superiors to how one bathed had some ties to religious customs. One area where a tension between religious and secular domains is clear, though, is in education. While it may be easy to take for granted the meaning of education in the Modern Age, it is crucial that we remember Medieval people had very different notions of education compared to us. This opens up an interesting question: what did education mean for a person in the Middle Ages? This article will demonstrate that education for people of the Middle Ages was a balancing act of religious zeal and worldly understanding.

The methods of teaching used in the Middle Ages provide a great starting point. In both Eastern and Western cultures the master-student relationship defined how schooling was conducted. For primary education, accredited masters took on students - typically sons of rich men - that could afford tuition and tutored them on reading and writing. Literacy was almost always focused on a culture's respective religion. A better insight to this is gained through “Memorandum for Learners and Listeners.” This book is a 14th century text that concentrated on Islamic educational values and practices written by prominent Islamic scholar and judge Ibn Jama’ah, who lived near Cairo and Damascus. Ibn Jama’ah goes on to explain that “ The people worthiest of this excellent quality (salvation) … are the people of learning, who by means of learning have encamped at the summit of glory and splendor and finished first in the race for the legacy of the prophets. This they could do because of their knowledge of the Prophet's noble traits…” (Jamaah Memorandum, 156-157). His praise for education underscores the value Medieval peoples placed on it, illustrating this ‘virtue’ is heavily contingent on piety. 

After a primary education based on learning grammar and literacy through religion, scholarship takes a different form. With the fundamentals of learning down, students who wished to continue would seek out masters and often universities, which doubled as religious and cultural hubs. While there is still heavy emphasis on religion in academic settings, the subjects of study begin to diverge. The trivium - grammar, logic, and rhetoric -  and quadrivium - arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music - become the focus of students pursuing higher education. Departing from an anchor like the Qur’an or Bible students were forced to find masters who not only had expertise in a niche field, but who also knew how to traverse the disciplines with conscientiousness toward religion.

With a jump to more abstract fields, one can see how friction between education and religion manifests. One example can be found in “Statutes for the University of Paris,” written in 1215. This document outlined changes that must be made to universities by order of the Pope. One part of the article specifically says, “They shall not lecture on the books of Aristotle on metaphysics and natural philosophy or on summaries of them” (Thorndike, 28). Since the material from these books could encourage beliefs counter to the Church they got banned. Another example of the friction between secular and religious education can be found in the dialogue between Conrad of Hirsau and his pupil. In their conversation when they talk of poetry and non-religious literature the pupil says “When we have so many works available which… encourage us on the road to various virtues, why should we seek out the writings tainted with vice whose meaning taints minds that should be trained by what they study?” (Oxford, 56). Conrad of Hirsau illustrates a clear negative disposition towards works that deviate from a traditional religious sentiment. Lines in the sand regarding what can and can’t be taught become apparent, the border being God.

University of Sankore, the most prominent Islamic University of the Middle Ages located in Timbuktu, Mali.

So, what did education mean for a medieval person? Through various primary sources we see that Medieval education did not try to balance between religion and nature; instead it predominantly projected education and learning through the lens of religion. From primary education to scholardom we see a strict method of teaching and learning through the Bible or Qur’an. Studying anything slightly deviating from this custom, like poetry or fiction, was ridiculed or done so with great caution. This sentiment is clearly illustrated in Conrad of Hisau’s dialogue where he builds upon his disdain for non-religious texts by using Ovid’s poetry as an example stating, “Why should the young recruit in Christ’s army subject his mind to the writing of Ovid” (Oxford, 56). Finally, it becomes clear that education for a person in the Medieval world was not just a way to become more knowledgeable of the world around them, but to better attune their faith with God. 

SOURCES: 

Medieval Literary Theory and Criticism (Oxford) 

University Record and Life in the Middle Ages (Thorndike)

Classical Foundations of Islamic Educational Thought (Cook).

An Examination of Medieval Education

 By: Kai Le

Chambéry, BM, Ms. 27, f. 151r (detail): a master teaching drawn in the margin of a manuscript from the second half of the thirteenth century, made in England.

Medieval education - while often imagined as a rarefied and insular pursuit by monks and scholars, medieval systematic instruction proved far more expansive and interconnected. Exploring both the Western and Eastern traditions reveals the common themes unifying medieval educational structures.

Foremost, the University of Paris stands as a focal point in Western medieval education, with the 12th-century renaissance marking a period of extraordinary intellectual activity. Classical texts, translated and preserved by Arabic scholars, were promulgated throughout the West. Newly invigorated scholars and theologians sought to resolve Aristotelian Virtue Ethics and Plato’s metaphysics with the teachings of the church, seeking to use these ancient texts to better understand Scripture. From these new universities emerged the practice of disputation, a form of academic debate that emerged from dialogues between masters and students. A master’s duties included these engagements. Topics were set ahead of time, and students came prepared to ask sharp and insightful questions. These sessions underscore the importance of Socratic dialogue in the West and the engagement with texts and ideas crucial to medieval education. 

A notable example was the quodlibet disputations. These biannual events were open to the public and civic authorities, where any member of the audience could ask academic questions to the presiding masters. The masters responded to these inquiries the following day to provide their thoughts on the issues raised. Being key to the flow and propagation of knowledge in higher education, prominent scholastics like Thomas Aquinas participated, and university publishers would transcribe their responses and release them to the public. Thus, these quodlibet disputations and the arguments furthered the next generation of scholars. 

This approach to education focused primarily on dialogue through the master-student relationship. These disputations served as events by which the master could convey their knowledge and supplied an essential vector for transmitted information. While the quodlibet disputations were open to the public, they were only held in Latin(rather than the prevailing vernacular) further illustrating the degrees of separation limiting the diffuse, equal spread of knowledge and education. Similarly in the East, education in the Muslim world was rooted in a direct relationship between master and student. 

As in the West, scripture served as the central foundation for all Eastern educational efforts. All across the medieval world, there was no understanding of ‘secular education’, for that notion simply held no currency. All education was by its very nature religious with efforts directed at understanding the will and intentions of God. To this end, the Qur’an was central to learning in both primary and university settings. Muhammad ibn Jamā'ah’s Memorandum for Learners and Listeners clearly outlines the importance of the Qur’an in primary education. Tutors were only paid if their students understood the morphology, word endings, and content of the Qur’an. Once the foundational elements of their education were secured via their knowledge of the Qur’an, students could continue their education in great Islamic centers of learning such as Baghdad. Here, the master-student dynamic would have again been central. Students would have been instructed by polymaths well-versed in Islamic jurisprudence and other specific fields.

Yet, while medieval education demonstrated a great level of similarity across both the Western and Eastern traditions with its focus on the master-student relationship and their scriptural basis, expansive gatekeeping concentrated authority in the hands of masters. To obtain a respected level of education, students needed to be instructed by masters who would have then verified their students’ understanding and expertise of the topic. During the disputations present in Western educational institutions, the master served as the primary figure controlling the flow of knowledge. They were the primary judges and arbiters of debate and discussion. This control over access to knowledge and learning perpetuated existing power dynamics and structures. Most masters typically came from the ranks of the upper echelons of society, and their students similarly reflected this economic strata. 

 In many ways, the master-student relationship encapsulates how people in the medieval ages considered the structures of their world. Masters were esteemed not just based on their intellectual accomplishments but for their moral and spiritual insights as well. Since mastery over theology and philosophy was believed to have provided clearer insights into God’s creation, knowledge reflected a form of divine wisdom. Masters could thus be seen and legitimized as intermediaries between the divine and the mortal, helping students understand their place in God’s ordered world. 

While medieval education can certainly be criticized for its stringent prerequisites and its authoritative, hierarchal structures, medieval education cannot be solely dismissed as purely insular and dogmatic.  In many ways, there are obvious benefits to the way medieval education was structured. A well-developed, sophisticated understanding of scripture was essential as the foundational element for medieval education because it provided the necessary framework for the pursuit of intellectual inquiry into a world shaped by God. The master-student dynamic salient through the medieval world can be criticized as rigid, but learning from the most authoritative brilliant minds of the time was crucial for imparting systems of thinking and understanding to the next generation of scholars. 

In addition, the ordered structure of masters further standardized education throughout the medieval world, ensuring that new masters were thoroughly well-versed in either Islamic Law and Jurisprudence in the East or the Quadrivium and Trivium in the West. The disputations and synthesis of classical texts improved and evolved scholarly debate and dialectal reasoning, laying the foundation for the Enlightenment. For instance, Roger Bacon, a Scholastic philosopher, served as one of the key theorists of the notion of empiricism, preceding his Enlightenment contemporary Francis Bacon. 

Medieval educational systems certainly catered to a niche group of people with particular prerequisites and ambitions. Consequently, masters and their scholars perpetuated existing power structures, focusing primarily on educating the well-off. However, medieval education also paved the way for modern educational frameworks through its fostering and development of rigorous scholarly discipline and debate that would prove so central to shaping intellectual developments and eventual modern analytical frameworks for future generations. 

Sources:

Muhammad ibn Jamā'ah (d. 1333 CE), Memorandum for Learners and Listeners, trans. Michael Fishbane (selections)

Thomas Aquinas (d. 1274 CE), selected quodlibets, trans. Brian Davies and Turner Nevitt

Sharing is Caring: Syncretism and Assimilation

 By: Adler Schultz

A Temple to Awilix in Modern Day, the Interior Contains a Figure of St. James

In the mountainous forests of Northwestern Guatemala, near the Mexican border, there lies a temple that was once dedicated to the Mayan moon goddess, Awilix, in the Municipality of Momostenango. Today, it enjoys a different significance, a bridge between the pagan Mayan past and the Christian present of the region. The moon goddess is long gone, replaced by a pair of women who are revered by rival groups as the lover of the local patron saint, Saint James. 

Cultural pride is something that seems almost integral to the condition of the human species. Wars have been waged and civilizations have emerged and disappeared because like-minded people have banded together to challenge those of differing views, skin color, and religious beliefs. To abandon the past of your people can be associated with surrendering that identity, letting it slip away. American culture is meant to be a melting pot, but more often than not, the cultures never truly melt, they stick around and bob in the stew. Syncretism is the natural byproduct of this cultural pride. When confronted with something either imposed or willingly accepted, very few things clash as harshly as meetings between religious beliefs. As a core doctrine of Christianity, there is only one God, and you cannot hold multiple gods. So, faced with this dilemma, two main ways are made available to maintain your culture: reframe your gods as fictional, mythical characters or turn your gods into a part of the overtaking religion through Syncretism. Given the level of tangibility that Mayan deities like Awilix carried in their respective civilizations through their connection with the natural world, it would be extremely difficult to relegate them to mythical status. This results in the insertion of pre-Christian deities into local Christian tradition as important figures.

Assimilation is a little different than syncretism but is motivated by a lot of the same factors. The Medieval Muslim assimilation of Alexander the Great into their literature is a great example. Medieval Muslim writers drew a figure into the reams of their cultural history, allowing them to preserve their cultural identity while also celebrating an important political figure. The Qissat al-Iskandar (dated to the 8th or 9th Century) and Sīrat al-Iskandar (dated to the13th Century) pose two opposing examples of the reworking of Alexander into their cultures, with the Qissat utilizing assimilation and the Sīrat leaning towards syncretism. Starting with the Qissat, many traditional Alexandrian tales, more contemporary to his lifetime, remain intact. Through the Qissat, the author places emphasis on Alexander’s rulership of Persia and central Asia, therefore tying him to the Muslim people of the area. They also insert Islamic plot points to explain certain events in Alexander’s life, using angels and the providence of God to guide the plot forward. In doing so, the Muslims were able to make Alexander a part of their inheritance and culture by attributing his successes to Allah and setting a claim to their geographical kinship. In perhaps a stark contrast, in the Sīrat, Alexander is completely transformed. He is explicitly born as a Persian prince, gets possessed by Iblīs – the devil in Islam – and is later sent on a mission by Allah to convert the entire world to monotheism. Akin to the example set by Awilix, this takes an existing figure and completely restructures its identity and story to fit properly with a different religious system. Alexander was many things, but a Persian-born crusader for monotheism was not one of them. As a matter of fact, he was a Macedonian king who allowed himself to be worshipped as a Hammon, an Egyptian god and supported an entirely polytheistic worldview to fit his imperialism. Save for his name, this “Alexander” is admittedly not exactly the man he was in world history, but it does not appear that accuracy was ever a real concern. Through these ‘inaccurate’ retellings and restructurings, entertainment, morals, and a whole swath of good were able to be drawn through using a well-known figure as a base.

At the end of the day, we cannot precisely know why each culture specifically syncretizes and assimilates who or what, especially when strictly monotheistic cultures and religions are involved.  However, I have a hypothesis - as seen with the Islamic Alexandrian Romances often the goal of assimilation and syncretism is not to claim the person or individual themselves but to capture the spirit of that individual in a frame that is best understood by the people, through the lens of their culture, allowing them to better appreciate, adopt, and understand the history and religions of the world without casting off their identities.

Sources:

Constructing Maya Communities: Ethnography for Archaeology (1996) Fox and Cook

Zuwiyya, David (2012). "'Umāra's Qiṣṣa al-Iskandar as a Model of the Arabic Alexander Romance"

Doufikar-Aerts, Faustina (2003). "Sīrat al-Iskandar: An Arabic Popular Romance of Alexander"

Medieval Manners: Parents and their Children, East and West

By: McKenna McKrell

Interpersonal relationships are often defined by societal norms — implicit rules that concretely affect how we interact with others. The relationship between a parent and child is a prime example: how someone chooses to parent their child is personal, and yet is often shaped by cultural context. 

In an effort to understand how these relationships may have looked in earlier time periods, including the Medieval period, we are often pushed to texts to draw out those deeply embedded attitudes and perspectives. 

Giovanni Bocaccio’s The Decameron and Ibn ‘Abd Rabbih’s The Unique Necklace are two Medieval texts that reveal a snapshot of how parents and children interacted in the Western and Eastern Medieval worlds. In comparing these distinct texts one not only uncover perspectives on the parent-child relationship, but also find middle ground across two regions, languages, and cultures. 

The Decameron is a piece of 14th century Italian literature, framed as ten young people who have fled a plague-ridden city telling a series of stories. The vignettes contain entertaining tropes and characters, but also reveal some of the very real attitudes and norms that probably surrounded manners and relationships at the time. 

In one story, a young woman falls in love with a man of lesser stature, and secretly marries him. When he dies in her arms one night, the young woman and her maid try to carry the man away but they are caught and brought to the podesta. The podesta attempts to rape the girl and then marry her (Bocaccio 355), but the father intervenes to help his daughter. 

Most intriguing in this story is the role of the father. When his daughter collapses in tears, remorseful for marrying the man in secret, her father replies, “if you had chosen a man who pleased you, then he would have pleased me as well. But to think that you concealed your choice because you have so little trust in me, well, that saddens me” (Boccaccio 356). In anticipating a cruel reaction from her father, the girl reflects a norm of parental consent and consequential opinions in marriage matches. The acceptance and pain that the father expresses reveals an attitude of genuine concern for his daughter, further revealing the importance of trust and communication in familial relationships. 

The tone of this story is not humorous or satirical, suggesting that the father’s character should be read seriously. Since the father is framed as subverting his daughter’s expectation, it does not seem fair to claim that such an attitude among father’s was common. Rather, one might venture to guess that the idea was entertaining or desirable — perhaps only realistic in a work of fiction. 

By contrast, in The Unique Necklace, these norms and attitudes are expressed directly instead of hiding beneath the narrative. Considered a classic of Arabic literature, this 9th or 10th century Adab — a genre of texts in the Islamic world often translated to mean “custom” — uses quoted letters and stories to direct the audience on how to interact with peers, family, and kings. 

One of the first sections on parenting that the audience encounters is on “disciplining the young” (Rabbih 232), including a quote from a letter where a father permits a teacher to beat the son with a whip three times, though he goes on to describes him as “the dearest soul to me” (Rabbih 233). The very next chapter focuses on “the love of children” (Rabbih 233), which similarly reflects dual attitudes towards children.  

One quoted letter from this latter section reads, “If they [children] ask for anything, give it to them; and if they become angry, pacify them; they will then give you their affection and will love you to their utmost, and don’t be strict with them lest they get tired of life with you” (Rabbih 233). This quote represents that the parent-child relationship is not only beneficial for the child, but for the parent: they desire love from their children, and will be mild and unconditional in many ways to ensure it. 

Still, a later section presents the unique relationship dynamics between a girl and her family, complicating the picture: “Put her away from you…for, by God, females give birth to enemies, get married to distant strangers, and bequeath grudges'' (Rabbih 234). The father holding his daughter then responds, describing how daughters are valuable as caretakers and comforts. Though the father’s defense might be perceived as reductionary, it really imbues value on these roles and reflects how the love of a parent can overcome pervasive and negative attitudes. 

While these texts are just two from a sea of Medieval texts — and thus hard to draw really decisive conclusions from — they present an interesting case study on how we can use written sources to identify the uncodified rules that shape relationships. Beyond appreciating the value of these sources independently, their ability to find commonality is notable. 

These texts contrast in a number of important ways: they were composed in different languages, for different purposes, at different time periods, and in different places. Yet, both offer a similar picture of the Medieval parent-child relationship. While a parent’s harsh concern is reflected both in the frightened expectations of the love-stricken daughter and the instructions on punishing the learning son, mutual care, love, and trust is equally apparent. 

In finding middle ground, these texts not only reveal attitudes that spanned the Medieval world, but invite one to consider a more timeless reflection on parenting — one that speaks to the modern reader, too. 

For Further Reading

Giovanni Boccaccio’s The Decameron. Translated by Wayne A. Rebhorn. W.W. Norton & Company.

Ibn ‘Abd Rabbih’s The Unique Necklace. Translated by Professor Issa J. Boullata. Garnet publishing. 

Adab, Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/art/adab-literature. 

Decameron, Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/topic/Decameron. 

The Secretum Secretorum: the Medieval Key to the Universe?

 By: Olivia Glunz

Alexander the Great, the 4th-century B.C. Macedonian king and world conqueror, captivated the medieval imagination. In lands as diverse as England, Egypt, and Iran, tales of Alexander’s rise to power, far-ranging travels, and epic conquests attained immense popularity. Hearing such gripping accounts of this historical-turned-legendary figure, many listeners naturally began to wonder: what was the secret to Alexander’s success? 

An 8th-century A.D. text purports to give an answer. Secretum Secretorum—literally, the “Secret of Secrets,” also known in Arabic as Sirr al-Asrar—is a treatise on rulership allegedly written for Alexander by Aristotle. While Aristotle did indeed tutor Alexander when the conqueror was a young man, Secretum Secretorum was almost certainly composed in the Middle Ages; hence, it is attributed to Pseudo-Aristotle rather than Aristotle himself. The Secretum Secretorum circulated widely in the medieval world: the earliest known version of the text, written in Arabic, attained significant popularity in the Muslim world. Eventually, the text reached Spain, where, in the 13th century, it was translated into Latin. In turn, the Latin text was transmitted throughout Europe and was translated into French, English, Russian, and numerous other vernacular tongues. Secretum Secretorum was immensely influential; for instance, it was read by Christian dissident John Wycliffe, and it likely informed Chaucer’s descriptions of the human body in The Canterbury Tales. 

In Secretum Secretorum, Pseudo-Aristotle provides Alexander with insights into many different topics related to rulership. The treatise is divided into ten discourses, whose subjects range from wartime strategy to astrology and magic. While these topics are certainly far-ranging, they are in fact unified by a common theme: justice. Pseudo-Aristotle defines justice as “equal division, removal of oppression, correctness of weights and equality of measures.” Justice, in other words, entails understanding the proper order of the universe and upholding this order through equality and right judgment.

Indeed, justice itself actually defines the order of the universe. In Pseudo-Aristotle’s conception, the cosmic order forms a large, harmonious circle that begins and ends with justice: “justice is the… supporter of the world” (226); the world, in turn, allows for the existence of the state, the state is the foundation of the law, the law guides kings, kings employ armies, armies are fueled by wealth, wealth is supplied by the people, and “the people are subject to justice” (227). Not only, then, does justice provide the foundation of the entire world, but every part of the world ultimately points back to justice. Pseudo-Aristotle’s circular schema also reveals that the universe is a closed system. Circumscribed by the ring of justice, the various constituents of the cosmos form a complete, unified whole. Therefore, all things, no matter how different they appear, operate in accordance with a coherent, all-encompassing universal law. The cosmos, in other words, follows a sort of “secret code.” By teaching Alexander to crack this code, Pseudo-Aristotle gives him the secret to becoming a great king.

Thus, the virtuous ruler, as envisioned by the Secretum Secretorum, must be knowledgeable about many topics so that he can discern the rules of the cosmos and use them to his advantage. In many instances, the ruler achieves most success by seeking to respect and uphold the innate order of the universe. For example, Pseudo-Aristotle explains that kings occupy an exalted place within the cosmic order. Thus, in accordance with their natural role, rulers ought to behave honorably, remain aloof from commoners, and reflect God’s justice and mercy to subjects.  

In other cases, however, knowledge of the rules of the universe helps one avoid potentially harmful outcomes. Pseudo-Aristotle explains that a person’s physiognomy reveals much about her nature—soft-haired individuals, for instance, are timid, while those with long nostrils are brave. A man conversant with these universal physiognomic laws can analyze his own appearance, discover which vices he is naturally most susceptible to, and work to mitigate those undesirable traits. Ultimately, success for a king—and any human being—requires first discerning the order of the universe and then using this knowledge to foster potential benefits and attenuate threats. If Pseudo-Aristotle’s treatise really offers both the key to cracking the cosmic code and sound advice for navigating its implications, then the Secretum Secretorum would indeed be deserving of its title.

Unfortunately, it seems unlikely that the Secretum Secretorum has delivered on its promise. After all, as discussed above, the Secretum Secretorum was wildly popular across locales and centuries, and yet, to the best of our knowledge, the code of the universe remains unsolved. However, lest we unfairly underestimate Pseudo-Aristotle, we should acknowledge the possibility that the Secretum Secretorum really does communicate the key to the universe, albeit so secretly that no one has managed to discern it. 

Pseudo-Aristotle. Secretum Secretorum. Trans. Roger Bacon. Ed. A.S. Fulton.

"Secreta Secretorum." The Oxford Companion to English Literature. Ed. Birch, Dinah. : Oxford University Press, , 2009. Oxford Reference. Date Accessed 29 Mar. 2024 <https://www-oxfordreference-com.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu/view/10.1093/acref/9780192806871.001.0001/acref-9780192806871-e-6815>.

John, North. "Secreta Secretorum." The Oxford Companion to Chaucer. : Oxford University Press, , 2005. Oxford Reference. Date Accessed 29 Mar. 2024 <https://www-oxfordreference-com.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu/view/10.1093/acref/9780198117650.001.0001/acref-9780198117650-e-1568>.

Ruling the Realm

 By: Kai Le

Portrait of Charlemagne (742 - Aachen, 814), King of Franks and Lombards and Emperor of Holy Roman Empire, standing with model of Palatine Chapel, Painting by Scheuren

Rulership. One word conjures up a dynamic tapestry of human civilization, ranging from the earliest chieftains of the Mesolithic to the presidents and prime ministers of today. The concept of a ruler has permeated the fabrics and narratives of religions and cultures all over the world. When historical figures employed immense amounts of power ineffectively or unjustly, it was often to the detriment of their subjects. 

In this context, the Middle Ages prove a particularly fruitful ground. While medieval rulers may evoke visions of crown-wearing, iron-fisted tyrants whose reigns were characterized by self-indulgence and incompetence, a deeper dive reveals a nuanced understanding of governance by many leaders and high-ranking officials. The texts of many of these high-ranking officials disprove the misconception of rulers governing without direction or adherence to prior political traditions. A well-defined conception of virtuous and effective leadership permeated from the lowliest hamlets to the loftiest walls of the palace. People could identify bad rulership in satirical folk tales or political treatises.  

To understand the principles of effective leadership, rulers often sought guidance from the works of great political scholars and theorists. In particular, the works of Hincmar of Reims and Nizam Al-Mulk remain illuminating examples. The former was the Archbishop of Reims and a key advisor in the reign of Charles the Bald and his eldest son Louis the Stammerer. The latter was a powerful vizier in the Seljuk Empire. Their writings explore the qualities and virtues that distinguish a good ruler - a leader capable of steering a realm toward prosperity and stability. To this end, we can first examine Hincmar’s work, On the Governance of the Palace. 

From the start, Christian religious virtue remains one of the key facets of good rulership in his view. Hincmar emphasizes the subservience of the monarch to God arguing, “In every respect, without obstinacy, he should honor the ecclesiastical laws, if he does not wish to offend the King of kings”(Herlihy 213). This idea was common, reflected in the Gelasian Doctrine - or the Doctrine of Two Swords - which expresses the Christian belief that all secular authority must bend before God.

In this vein, the king must rule with pious righteousness, selecting judges and bishops only with consideration toward their love for God and justice. This approach to rulership, epitomized by Hincmar's emphasis on divine responsibility and the structured organization of the court, stands in stark contrast to the "might makes right" philosophy prevalent in modern understandings of political power. Instead, it is almost a "what would Jesus do" principle, lauding virtuous leadership guided by religion and ethics rather than raw power. 

Hincmar also presents an ideal royal administration and palace, based on his knowledge of the court under Charles the Bald and Charlemagne, offering insight into medieval rulership while also highlighting its relevance in modern governance.

Hincmar's delineation of court positions and emphasis on the competence of individual officials mirrors modern management principles. For instance, akin to a United States president appointing their cabinet, Hincmar underscores the importance of a well-structured administration to ensure effective governance - "the strength of the realm rested upon these other officers" (Herlihy 217) - emphasizing the critical role played by competent and specialized officials in managing the affairs of the kingdom. In essence, Hincmar's approach anticipates modern management theories that advocate delegation to leverage the collective judgment and expertise of a ruler's advisors and officials.

Hincmar elaborates on the delegation of duties, suggesting that the king should reserve his attention for matters of utmost importance while entrusting his councilors to deal with lesser affairs. The organization of two annual meetings further demonstrates Hincmar’s belief in structured governance. The first assembly determined the status of the entire realm for the remainder of the year, while the second assembly, held with important men and principal councilors, began the consideration of affairs for the coming year. This system allowed for thorough deliberation and thoughtful planning, ensuring the realm was effectively managed, while also effectively shielding the king from more public scrutiny, delegating those activities to his officials. 

Hincmar’s sensibilities concerning governance are strikingly reminiscent of those advocated by Nizam al-Mulk, vizier of the Seljuk Empire, albeit with some notable differences. While Hincmar emphasizes the delegation of duties and structured governance within the court, Nizam al-Mulk, in his renowned work, the Book of Government, focuses more directly on the role of the king in dispensing justice and maintaining order within the realm. 

In the Eastern tradition, Nizam al-Mulk emphasizes the king's personal involvement in matters of justice and governance. For instance, the ruler is expected to be far more visible. In contrast with the two-year annual meetings that Hincmar describes, Nizam al-Mulk asserts that “It is absolutely necessary that on two days in the week, the king should sit for the redress of wrongs”(Al-Mulk 13). Al-Mulk justifies this point with evidence of one of the Samanid kings, Isma’il ibn Ahmad, who remained on horseback in the city square of Bukhara until the midday prayers to hear the issues of his realm. His centrality and appearance to the public effectively neutralized dissent and the fomenting of insurrection. 

In addition to personal involvement in the dispensation of justice, Nizam al-Mulk emphasizes constant inquiry into the affairs of tax collectors and officials. He warns against negligence in overseeing the actions of these individuals reflecting Nizam al-Mulk’s emphasis on the king actively monitoring and regulating the actions of his subordinates to ensure the welfare of his subjects. That is not to say that Nizam al-Mulk rejected the concept of a thriving court life.

Al-Mulk advises having constant conservations with wise men and enjoying the intimacy and companionship of so-called “boon companions”. These boon companions, close sycophantic “yes-men” for the king, should allow the king to relax and consult in businesses of pleasure and entertainment. However, the king should still exercise caution and ensure that he is not getting too carried away with matters of pleasure to attend to his kingdom. 

The story of Bagram Gor serves as a cautionary tale in this regard. While Gor was busy “drinking and hunting” (Al-Mulk 23), his vizier plundered the country, impoverishing the peasantry and alienating the nobles. Only when Bagram Gor returns to his responsibilities as a king, does he regain control and his nation prospers. The story underscores the importance of active, vigilant management of one’s realm, where a lack of active engagement and responsibility paves the way to  for disaster. 

Akin to the previous analogy, Hincmar's approach aligns more closely with the role of the President of the United States. For the president, the focus is on strategic planning, delegation, and ensuring that competent individuals are placed in key positions to execute tasks effectively. On the other hand, Nizam al-Mulk's style resembles a visionary leader like Steve Jobs, known for his hands-on involvement in all aspects of his company's operations. Nizam al-Mulk's insistence on direct oversight by the king in all matters reflects a more personal and involved approach to governance, akin to Jobs' micromanagement of every aspect of Apple's products and operations.

Ultimately, these historical insights serve as a timeless reference for leaders navigating the complexities of governance. Whether in the Oval Office, Silicon Valley, or a Medieval Palace, the choice between being a strategic conductor or a hands-on visionary shaping every detail defines two different styles of leadership, each with its strengths and challenges.

Sources:

Al-Mulk, Niẓām, et al. The Book of Government or Rules for Kings: The Siyar al-Muluk or Siyasat-Nama of Nizam al-Mulk. Routledge, 2015. 

Herlihy, David. The History of Feudalism. Humanity Books, 1998. 

Yas Queen: Standards for Powerful Queens in Medieval Literature

 

By: Christine Corcoran

Queens with legitimate political power in the medieval world are hard to come by. A culture may only have one or two queens who are remembered as relevant political and cultural figures – like Queen Tamara in Georgia or Empress Zoe in Byzantium. 

However, many more queens are present in Medieval literature, often serving as the ideal both for queenship and femininity in a given culture. Many of these ideals are remarkably consistent across the Medieval Latin and Islamic worlds, in cases where both cultures have stories with similar narrative structures and characters, we can handily determine the cultural criteria for women-led leadership and expose the gendered expectations prevalent across both the Islamic and the Christian worlds.

Consider Alexander the Great, a Macedonian king who conquered the Persian empire and ruled everything from Greece to Egypt to western India in the 300s BCE. Since Alexander ruled over such a large swath of territory, many disparate cultures developed stories about the king that became loosely connected in a network of stories called “The Alexander Matter,” almost like a Medieval Marvel Cinematic Universe. Because Alexander was such a popular figure across cultures, many of his stories were circulated on a large scale, causing different cultures to codify very similar stories, with unique details to better suit their culture. 

We can see this phenomenon in the Persian epic The Shahnameh, composed in the Turkish court in modern-day Iraq around 1000 CE, and The Alexander Romance, a (presumably) Egyptian narrative that was translated into Latin at about the same time. Both texts contain a short story about a queen – whose name is Quaydafeh in The Shahnameh and Candacis in The Alexander Romance – whom Alexander is unable to conquer. In comparing these stories, we can see what traits were necessary to make these queens good – and therefore unconquerable – rulers. 

Though Alexander is known both in the stories and in history as a military leader, these queens never legitimately consider doing war with him. Instead, they use other traits more suitable to queenship to best Alexander off the battlefield.

The first trait both these queens share is their unimaginable wealth. In both stories, Alexander is amazed by not only the impressive wealth that the queens display in their palaces, but also by the natural abundance of their lands. At this time, a ruler’s wealth mostly came from inheritance and taxation of peasants who relied on farming for sustenance. These streams of income aren’t directly tied to the choices or quality of the ruler, with the only exception presumably being the tax rates. Even these, though, were often actually controlled by a royal advisor or vizier. Though both of these queens are wealthier than Alexander, since their lands are naturally fertile, this trait of their leadership cannot be chalked up to a good tax policy. So even though it seems like being financially savvy is a necessity for good queenship, it’s instead mostly reliant on whether the harvest is good. Basically, you’re expected to be wealthy, but that’s not a quality that’s completely in your control. 

The second trait a successful queen should have is cunning. Both queens outsmart Alexander by figuring out his secret identity after he sneaks into their courts in disguise. Each queen does this in a roundabout way, having commissioned a remarkably accurate portrait of the Macedonian king before the main events of the story which she uses to determine his true identity. Since queens are not expected to be proficient on the battlefield, their intelligence isn’t as derived from thinking quickly as their male counterparts. Instead, queens are expected to develop complicated long-term plans that will bring them success. This method of delicately resolving issues through not direct confrontation, but patience and emotional intelligence, is characteristic of how women largely operated in historical courtly politics. Gendered expectations at the time demonized women for causing fights, as they were expected to emulate women from the Bible – especially the Virgin Mary, who was portrayed as demure and subservient. This created a culture where women in turn had to develop more subtle methods of conflict resolution, which reinforced the gendered expectation. 

That being said, like being wealthy, being smart isn’t tied to gender. There are plenty of men in both stories that are both wealthy and wise. Alexander himself is a great example. Tutored by Aristotle, he is lauded as not only a conqueror, but a wise ruler. In fact, his success is so directly tied to his intelligence that in the 900s, a book called Secretum Secretorum on the morals and governance of kings was anonymously published under Aristotle's name addressed to Alexander. Alexander’s intelligence and Aristotle’s reputation were both so revered in both the Islamic and Christian worlds that for centuries the text was assumed to be Aristotle's writings. However, it was ultimately determined to be Medieval in origin, and is now attributed to pseudo-Aristotle. That said, though in this narrative with the queen, Alexander is outfoxed, he is generally considered to be a wise ruler worthy of emulation. 

So if both wealth and intelligence were also lauded in kings, couldn’t Medieval literature just be holding their queens to the same standard as their kings?

The difference is that a queen must have these characteristics to a greater extent than her male counterparts. Quadafeh and Candacis don’t need to just be wealthy and be smart, they need to be wealthier and smarter than anyone Alexander has encountered before. In short, to legitimately compete with their male counterparts, these queens have to outperform them.