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The Hinges of History #5
Mysteries of the Middle Ages: The Rise of Feminism, Science and Art from the Cults of Catholic Europe
After the long period of cultural decline known as the Dark Ages, Europe experienced a rebirth of scholarship, art, literature, philosophy, and science and began to develop a vision of Western society that remains at the heart of Western civilization today.
By placing the image of the Virgin Mary at the center of their churches and their lives, medieval people exalted womanhood to a level unknown in any previous society. For the first time, men began to treat women with dignity and women took up professions that had always been closed to them.
The communion bread, believed to be the body of Jesus, encouraged the formulation of new questions in philosophy: Could reality be so fluid that one substance could be transformed into another? Could ordinary bread become a holy reality? Could mud become gold, as the alchemists believed? These new questions pushed the minds of medieval thinkers toward what would become modern science.
Artists began to ask themselves similar questions. How can we depict human anatomy so that it looks real to the viewer? How can we depict motion in a composition that never moves? How can two dimensions appear to be three? Medieval artists (and writers, too) invented the Western tradition of realism.
On visits to the great cities of Europe—monumental Rome; the intellectually explosive Paris of Peter Abelard and Thomas Aquinas; the hotbed of scientific study that was Oxford; and the incomparable Florence of Dante and Giotto—Cahill brilliantly captures the spirit of experimentation, the colorful pageantry, and the passionate pursuit of knowledge that built the foundations for the modern world. Bursting with stunning four-color art, Mysteries of the Middle Aages is the ultimate Christmas gift book.
By placing the image of the Virgin Mary at the center of their churches and their lives, medieval people exalted womanhood to a level unknown in any previous society. For the first time, men began to treat women with dignity and women took up professions that had always been closed to them.
The communion bread, believed to be the body of Jesus, encouraged the formulation of new questions in philosophy: Could reality be so fluid that one substance could be transformed into another? Could ordinary bread become a holy reality? Could mud become gold, as the alchemists believed? These new questions pushed the minds of medieval thinkers toward what would become modern science.
Artists began to ask themselves similar questions. How can we depict human anatomy so that it looks real to the viewer? How can we depict motion in a composition that never moves? How can two dimensions appear to be three? Medieval artists (and writers, too) invented the Western tradition of realism.
On visits to the great cities of Europe—monumental Rome; the intellectually explosive Paris of Peter Abelard and Thomas Aquinas; the hotbed of scientific study that was Oxford; and the incomparable Florence of Dante and Giotto—Cahill brilliantly captures the spirit of experimentation, the colorful pageantry, and the passionate pursuit of knowledge that built the foundations for the modern world. Bursting with stunning four-color art, Mysteries of the Middle Aages is the ultimate Christmas gift book.
368 pages, Hardcover
Published October 24, 2006
271 people are currently reading
6285 people want to read
About the author
Thomas Cahill
37 books576 followersBorn in New York City to Irish-American parents and raised in Queens and the Bronx, Cahill was educated by Jesuits and studied ancient Greek and Latin. He continued his study of Greek and Latin literature, as well as medieval philosophy, scripture and theology, at Fordham University, where he completed a B.A. in classical literature and philosophy in 1964, and a pontifical degree in philosophy in 1965. He went on to complete his M.F.A. in film and dramatic literature at Columbia University in 1968.
In anticipation of writing The Gifts of the Jews, Cahill studied scripture at Union Theological Seminary in New York, and spent two years as a Visiting Scholar at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America, where he studied Hebrew and the Hebrew Bible. He also reads French and Italian. In 1999, he was awarded an honorary doctorate from Alfred University in New York.
Cahill has taught at Queens College, Fordham University, and Seton Hall University, served as the North American education correspondent for The Times of London, and was for many years a regular contributor to the Los Angeles Times Book Review. Prior to retiring to write full time, he was the Director of Religious Publishing at Doubleday for six years. He and his wife, Susan, also an author, divide their time between New York and Rome.
—Wikipedia
In anticipation of writing The Gifts of the Jews, Cahill studied scripture at Union Theological Seminary in New York, and spent two years as a Visiting Scholar at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America, where he studied Hebrew and the Hebrew Bible. He also reads French and Italian. In 1999, he was awarded an honorary doctorate from Alfred University in New York.
Cahill has taught at Queens College, Fordham University, and Seton Hall University, served as the North American education correspondent for The Times of London, and was for many years a regular contributor to the Los Angeles Times Book Review. Prior to retiring to write full time, he was the Director of Religious Publishing at Doubleday for six years. He and his wife, Susan, also an author, divide their time between New York and Rome.
—Wikipedia
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 411 reviews
August 16, 2012
ARGH. This book!
1. The author does not reveal his semi-thesis until the conclusion of the book and fails to make his arguments (when he has an argument) conform to the thesis throughout the book.
2. The first thing they teach you when you do graduate work in history is that history is not inevitable. Because something happened in the 12th century it does not mean that things have to be the way they are in the 21st century. Hildegard von Bingen and Eleanor of Aquitaine do not feminism make. In fact, to discuss feminism in the middle ages if a massive anachronism.
3. The author completely fails to see how the cult of the Virgin Mary was also harmful to women - it provided an unobtainable model for women to follow, for no virgin could be a mother and no mother could be a virgin. It sets up the virgin v. whore dichotomy that still plagues the Western world today. (HA! I broke point #2.)
4. He seems really influenced by his own modern conception of Catholicism that he constantly judges the Church of the Middle Ages by. He discounts Dominican roles because of their role in the Inquisition in the centuries to come. He also makes disparaging comments about Protestant theologies that aren't even existant in the time period. Then there's the whole rant about pedophile priests at the end, which wtf.
5. What the hell was his whole diatribe against Islam as a "simple religion." That "simple religion" saved most of the knowledge of the Greeks that were influential in the centuries he covers and coming ones.
6. The constant commercials to read his other books are annoying. If the other books are written as crappily as this one, I'm not even going to look at them.
On the other hand, the book was the closest thing to a medieval manuscript with all the pretty illustrations but man, the text sucked.
1. The author does not reveal his semi-thesis until the conclusion of the book and fails to make his arguments (when he has an argument) conform to the thesis throughout the book.
2. The first thing they teach you when you do graduate work in history is that history is not inevitable. Because something happened in the 12th century it does not mean that things have to be the way they are in the 21st century. Hildegard von Bingen and Eleanor of Aquitaine do not feminism make. In fact, to discuss feminism in the middle ages if a massive anachronism.
3. The author completely fails to see how the cult of the Virgin Mary was also harmful to women - it provided an unobtainable model for women to follow, for no virgin could be a mother and no mother could be a virgin. It sets up the virgin v. whore dichotomy that still plagues the Western world today. (HA! I broke point #2.)
4. He seems really influenced by his own modern conception of Catholicism that he constantly judges the Church of the Middle Ages by. He discounts Dominican roles because of their role in the Inquisition in the centuries to come. He also makes disparaging comments about Protestant theologies that aren't even existant in the time period. Then there's the whole rant about pedophile priests at the end, which wtf.
5. What the hell was his whole diatribe against Islam as a "simple religion." That "simple religion" saved most of the knowledge of the Greeks that were influential in the centuries he covers and coming ones.
6. The constant commercials to read his other books are annoying. If the other books are written as crappily as this one, I'm not even going to look at them.
On the other hand, the book was the closest thing to a medieval manuscript with all the pretty illustrations but man, the text sucked.
May 23, 2012
I'll say this for Cahill--he holds nothing back.
Let's start with the book proper, because I'm a medievalist and an editor, so I notice these things. Setting this up like an illuminated manuscript was a brilliant move--the marginalia, the side notes like glosses instead of the more academic foot- or endnotes, even the scribe-like scratches of page numbers made this book a visual joy to read, which was a neat trick.
As to the contents, this gets the stamp of approval from a Real Live Medievalist. It's not in-depth or even fully correct all the time, which Cahill himself addresses very smartly in the last chapter. But it's a fantastic introduction, and his sources in the back are a great way to go further, should you wish to. The tone is personable and funny, and Cahill has no problem letting you know exactly what he thinks about a person or event--which works, oddly, in this context. It becomes a friend telling you exciting stories rather than a lecture of facts, which is a much more preferable presentation of history, anyway.
I was surprised with his epilogue, and disagree with its inclusion in this volume. While I agree with the anger it carries and the clarion call it's trying to sound, I don't think it had any place here and it felt like an over-extension of the familiarity Cahill had created in the rest of the book. This is not the place for a soapbox, worthy though it may be.
Brilliant book, though, and I'll definitely be looking for ways to incorporate some of his language into my classes. A final "right on" for Cahill is his decision to often include the original language of the texts he quotes; as someone who's studied some of these languages, it's good to see where his provided translations miss the meaning for the sake of the rhythm and to be able to get into the texts myself, but it's also nice just to read the beauty of the languages I don't know.
Well done, Cahill. I'll definitely be looking for more in this series.
Let's start with the book proper, because I'm a medievalist and an editor, so I notice these things. Setting this up like an illuminated manuscript was a brilliant move--the marginalia, the side notes like glosses instead of the more academic foot- or endnotes, even the scribe-like scratches of page numbers made this book a visual joy to read, which was a neat trick.
As to the contents, this gets the stamp of approval from a Real Live Medievalist. It's not in-depth or even fully correct all the time, which Cahill himself addresses very smartly in the last chapter. But it's a fantastic introduction, and his sources in the back are a great way to go further, should you wish to. The tone is personable and funny, and Cahill has no problem letting you know exactly what he thinks about a person or event--which works, oddly, in this context. It becomes a friend telling you exciting stories rather than a lecture of facts, which is a much more preferable presentation of history, anyway.
I was surprised with his epilogue, and disagree with its inclusion in this volume. While I agree with the anger it carries and the clarion call it's trying to sound, I don't think it had any place here and it felt like an over-extension of the familiarity Cahill had created in the rest of the book. This is not the place for a soapbox, worthy though it may be.
Brilliant book, though, and I'll definitely be looking for ways to incorporate some of his language into my classes. A final "right on" for Cahill is his decision to often include the original language of the texts he quotes; as someone who's studied some of these languages, it's good to see where his provided translations miss the meaning for the sake of the rhythm and to be able to get into the texts myself, but it's also nice just to read the beauty of the languages I don't know.
Well done, Cahill. I'll definitely be looking for more in this series.
March 16, 2009
This is the first book in a long time that I've stopped reading mid-way through. I appreciated the pictures. I like pictures. But they could not compensate for the otherwise amateur composition of this book.
The frequent plugs for Cahill's other books in the text are arrogant, but understandable. The idiot-friendly comparisons between medieval troubadors and the Rolling Stones are annoying, but tolerable. But the fact that he makes judgments which are not only out-of-context, but inflammatory (like his diatribe against modern Islam) is both unprofessional and inappropriate. I would have continued reading if the book were merely boring, but misleading the reader with unfounded assumptions (his bibliography is more akin to a personal reflection) is something I feel is unacceptable.
The frequent plugs for Cahill's other books in the text are arrogant, but understandable. The idiot-friendly comparisons between medieval troubadors and the Rolling Stones are annoying, but tolerable. But the fact that he makes judgments which are not only out-of-context, but inflammatory (like his diatribe against modern Islam) is both unprofessional and inappropriate. I would have continued reading if the book were merely boring, but misleading the reader with unfounded assumptions (his bibliography is more akin to a personal reflection) is something I feel is unacceptable.
March 22, 2023
Book publishing is an odd business. This book for instance, was originally published in October 2006 with the subtitle The Rise of Feminism, Science, and Art from the Cults of Catholic Europe. It was then republished, with the same cover image and page count, in March 2008 with the subtitle And the Beginning of the Modern World. The first version is currently available on Amazon as a hardcover but not as an eBook, and the second version can be had as a paperback or Kindle eBook. Somewhere between those two editions the marketing people must have got involved and saw an exploitable niche.
In both versions the book is presented as volume five in Cahill’s six volume Hinges of History, of which I have previously read Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea, volume four of the series.
Cahill has a rather unconventional writing style for a historian: anecdotal, conversational, and loaded with frequent anachronistic cultural references. Not only does he mention Desperate Housewives and Sex and the City, but he also tosses in a personal recommendation for a restaurant with an excellent selection of wines, and even works The Story of O into the conversation (a 70s porn flick – don’t ask me how I know that). For a time I considered the idea that the book was intended as a supplemental textbook for a college history or women’s studies class, and the references to TV shows were intended to hold the attention of fidgety sophomores.
Nevertheless, there is good history here, and Cahill has done considerable research. The book is not intended to be comprehensive, and instead uses specific people and incidents to give the reader a sense of life in the High Middle Ages. Some of those he introduces will be familiar to readers of history and art, such as Roger Bacon, Dante, and Giotto, but others are less well known, particularly the women, including Hildegarde of Bingen, Eleanor of Aquitaine and Héloïse d'Argenteuil (she of Héloïse and Abelard). These were important historical figures, although they lived in such a different world from ours that I think we should be wary of assertions that they were proto-feminists in any meaningful way.
Still, the gradual acceptance of women as full citizens had to start somewhere, and it wasn’t in Greece or Rome. Cahill makes a good point when he says, “Science could never have asserted its sensible self within Judeo-Christian society had it not been for the goad that Greek reason provided. Feminism, on the other hand, might well have asserted its relevance without classical influence of any kind, for there was within the Greco-Roman world hardly a whit of feminism anywhere.” (p. 308)
Cahill is clearly a great admirer of Dante, and quotes T.S. Eliot’s famous line that “Dante and Shakespeare divide the modern world between them; there is no third.” I, however, think a distinction should be made between great literature and depraved intent. Dante was a bitter man by the time he wrote The Divine Comedy, exiled from his beloved Florence and wandering from place to place to whoever would give him temporary shelter.
His depictions of the torments of hell can be entertaining if seen as a kind of silly Grand Guignol, like modern horror-comedy movies, but Dante was not playing for laughs. He was deadly serious, which makes his depictions grotesque and vicious. Cahill takes pains in his book to show that the Middle Ages were not actually as barbaric as they are often depicted, but that argument falls flat when considering Dante’s vision of hell. I side with Will Durant on this, as he wrote in The Age of Faith, “Half the terrors of the medieval soul are gathered into this gory chronicle. As one reads its awful pages the gruesome horror mounts, until at last the cumulative effect is oppressive and overwhelming. Not all the sins and crimes of man from nebula to nebula could match the sadistic fury of this divine revenge. Dante’s conception of hell is the crowning indecency of medieval theology.”
I liked the way Mysteries of the Middle Ages was set up, mimicking the appearance of a medieval manuscript, and I especially liked the use of sidenotes within the body of the text. There was no need to flip to the back of the book to see amplifying information, or worse, endure the modern publishing trend where citations are not identified in the main text at all, and readers have to guess if there is more information in the back. It is not necessary to spend time reading the sidenotes, but I found them interesting and informative. The book is also well illustrated with maps, drawings, and color photos.
For all its idiosyncrasies I enjoyed this book, just as I enjoyed Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea. Cahill’s writing style is not for everyone, but I learned things, lingered over the maps and pictures, and spent time considering his premises in light of what I already knew about history. All in all, this book was time well spent.
In both versions the book is presented as volume five in Cahill’s six volume Hinges of History, of which I have previously read Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea, volume four of the series.
Cahill has a rather unconventional writing style for a historian: anecdotal, conversational, and loaded with frequent anachronistic cultural references. Not only does he mention Desperate Housewives and Sex and the City, but he also tosses in a personal recommendation for a restaurant with an excellent selection of wines, and even works The Story of O into the conversation (a 70s porn flick – don’t ask me how I know that). For a time I considered the idea that the book was intended as a supplemental textbook for a college history or women’s studies class, and the references to TV shows were intended to hold the attention of fidgety sophomores.
Nevertheless, there is good history here, and Cahill has done considerable research. The book is not intended to be comprehensive, and instead uses specific people and incidents to give the reader a sense of life in the High Middle Ages. Some of those he introduces will be familiar to readers of history and art, such as Roger Bacon, Dante, and Giotto, but others are less well known, particularly the women, including Hildegarde of Bingen, Eleanor of Aquitaine and Héloïse d'Argenteuil (she of Héloïse and Abelard). These were important historical figures, although they lived in such a different world from ours that I think we should be wary of assertions that they were proto-feminists in any meaningful way.
Still, the gradual acceptance of women as full citizens had to start somewhere, and it wasn’t in Greece or Rome. Cahill makes a good point when he says, “Science could never have asserted its sensible self within Judeo-Christian society had it not been for the goad that Greek reason provided. Feminism, on the other hand, might well have asserted its relevance without classical influence of any kind, for there was within the Greco-Roman world hardly a whit of feminism anywhere.” (p. 308)
Cahill is clearly a great admirer of Dante, and quotes T.S. Eliot’s famous line that “Dante and Shakespeare divide the modern world between them; there is no third.” I, however, think a distinction should be made between great literature and depraved intent. Dante was a bitter man by the time he wrote The Divine Comedy, exiled from his beloved Florence and wandering from place to place to whoever would give him temporary shelter.
His depictions of the torments of hell can be entertaining if seen as a kind of silly Grand Guignol, like modern horror-comedy movies, but Dante was not playing for laughs. He was deadly serious, which makes his depictions grotesque and vicious. Cahill takes pains in his book to show that the Middle Ages were not actually as barbaric as they are often depicted, but that argument falls flat when considering Dante’s vision of hell. I side with Will Durant on this, as he wrote in The Age of Faith, “Half the terrors of the medieval soul are gathered into this gory chronicle. As one reads its awful pages the gruesome horror mounts, until at last the cumulative effect is oppressive and overwhelming. Not all the sins and crimes of man from nebula to nebula could match the sadistic fury of this divine revenge. Dante’s conception of hell is the crowning indecency of medieval theology.”
I liked the way Mysteries of the Middle Ages was set up, mimicking the appearance of a medieval manuscript, and I especially liked the use of sidenotes within the body of the text. There was no need to flip to the back of the book to see amplifying information, or worse, endure the modern publishing trend where citations are not identified in the main text at all, and readers have to guess if there is more information in the back. It is not necessary to spend time reading the sidenotes, but I found them interesting and informative. The book is also well illustrated with maps, drawings, and color photos.
For all its idiosyncrasies I enjoyed this book, just as I enjoyed Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea. Cahill’s writing style is not for everyone, but I learned things, lingered over the maps and pictures, and spent time considering his premises in light of what I already knew about history. All in all, this book was time well spent.
August 13, 2015
Cahill argues that those terrible dark ages actually sparked movements that elevated women and anticipated science.
Cahill is always worth reading. He is very interesting and is a good writer. He brings up many topics that modern academics ignore.
The bad parts:
1) While he gets the general overview of history correct, his specific analyses are usually wrong--and wrong by a long shot. For example, he said that the Greek Orthodox were not as concerned with the Incarnation as the Romans. This is just silly.
2) He can't stay on topic for more than two pages. While he is supposed to be examing x topic from the Middle Ages, he will then start complaining about 21st century right-wing politics.
3) He has this weird obsession with sex. I feel like I need a moral bath after I read him.
the good parts:
1) for all of his faults, Cahill really, really loves the Middle Ages. And he tries to interpret the Middle Ages on the Middle Ages' terms. This makes him definitionally better than most "scholars" on the Middle Ages.
2) His chapter on alchemy, while fundamentally wrong by about 100 years, and it is debatable whether Transubstantiation necessarily led to alchemy in Europe, is very fascinating.
3) His exposition of Roger Bacon gives the reader one of those "wow" moments.
4) He is one of the few medievalists who raises the issue of "multiple dimensions" within reality (e.g., the area where angels, demons, faeiries, etc live). Whether this is theological viable today is beside the point. The medievals believed in this and Cahill, unlike tenured academics today, isn't embarrassed by the point.
Cahill is certainly worth reading and always interesting. But one needs a good grasp on the history beforehand. His facts are almost always wrong (or at least warped).
Mary gave women a valuable role, he says. Further, discussions on the Eucharist would later lead to scientific reasoning. Now on one level Cahill's argument is just plain bad and would fail any theology exam. But on another level...
Transubstantiaion in its more crass formulations says that the bread and wine become the body and blood--really. Medieval reasoning allowed thinkers to see how fluid matter could be. While absurd at one level, this is exactly what "nano technology" is today. It also let modern theologians like Catherine Pickstock and John Milbank show the relation between the Eucharist and ontology.
Cahill is always worth reading. He is very interesting and is a good writer. He brings up many topics that modern academics ignore.
The bad parts:
1) While he gets the general overview of history correct, his specific analyses are usually wrong--and wrong by a long shot. For example, he said that the Greek Orthodox were not as concerned with the Incarnation as the Romans. This is just silly.
2) He can't stay on topic for more than two pages. While he is supposed to be examing x topic from the Middle Ages, he will then start complaining about 21st century right-wing politics.
3) He has this weird obsession with sex. I feel like I need a moral bath after I read him.
the good parts:
1) for all of his faults, Cahill really, really loves the Middle Ages. And he tries to interpret the Middle Ages on the Middle Ages' terms. This makes him definitionally better than most "scholars" on the Middle Ages.
2) His chapter on alchemy, while fundamentally wrong by about 100 years, and it is debatable whether Transubstantiation necessarily led to alchemy in Europe, is very fascinating.
3) His exposition of Roger Bacon gives the reader one of those "wow" moments.
4) He is one of the few medievalists who raises the issue of "multiple dimensions" within reality (e.g., the area where angels, demons, faeiries, etc live). Whether this is theological viable today is beside the point. The medievals believed in this and Cahill, unlike tenured academics today, isn't embarrassed by the point.
Cahill is certainly worth reading and always interesting. But one needs a good grasp on the history beforehand. His facts are almost always wrong (or at least warped).
Mary gave women a valuable role, he says. Further, discussions on the Eucharist would later lead to scientific reasoning. Now on one level Cahill's argument is just plain bad and would fail any theology exam. But on another level...
Transubstantiaion in its more crass formulations says that the bread and wine become the body and blood--really. Medieval reasoning allowed thinkers to see how fluid matter could be. While absurd at one level, this is exactly what "nano technology" is today. It also let modern theologians like Catherine Pickstock and John Milbank show the relation between the Eucharist and ontology.
July 2, 2007
I have the audio book (abridged) which I've listened to through the state of Nevada, a state in which to listen to audio books.
I picked up the book thinking that I didn't know much about the Middle Ages, but as I listened, Cahill reintroduced me to some of my favorite historical figures: Hildegard, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Roger Bacon, Thomas Aquinas, St. Francis of Assisi, Dante, Giotto. I realized that I knew more about the Middle Ages than I thought.
Cahill talks of the time through the people and he does it with an engaging voice: not too dry and never melodramatic, a difficult skill to learn. The time comes alive through these remarkable people. Cahill posits that it was a remarkable time; I think the time had remarkable people.
In addition, Cahill makes connections to present time, sometimes in very unexpected ways. As he describes the characteristics of current political figures, he continues the description with a surprise ending such as, "and such was Philip the Fair of France."
Likewise, he severely (and deservedly) takes to task the contemporary Roman Catholic Church by making connections to Dante's Divine Comedy.
I enjoyed the entire book and intend to either read or listen to it again. It was quite comforting in the heat of the summer Nevada desert to be in the presence of these favorite people of mine.
I picked up the book thinking that I didn't know much about the Middle Ages, but as I listened, Cahill reintroduced me to some of my favorite historical figures: Hildegard, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Roger Bacon, Thomas Aquinas, St. Francis of Assisi, Dante, Giotto. I realized that I knew more about the Middle Ages than I thought.
Cahill talks of the time through the people and he does it with an engaging voice: not too dry and never melodramatic, a difficult skill to learn. The time comes alive through these remarkable people. Cahill posits that it was a remarkable time; I think the time had remarkable people.
In addition, Cahill makes connections to present time, sometimes in very unexpected ways. As he describes the characteristics of current political figures, he continues the description with a surprise ending such as, "and such was Philip the Fair of France."
Likewise, he severely (and deservedly) takes to task the contemporary Roman Catholic Church by making connections to Dante's Divine Comedy.
I enjoyed the entire book and intend to either read or listen to it again. It was quite comforting in the heat of the summer Nevada desert to be in the presence of these favorite people of mine.
November 7, 2007
This is the Reader's Digest take on history. Like any good digest, Cahill draws on the Middle Ages' most interesting topics and presents said topics very accessibly. Despite being disappointingly low on cults and mysteries (false advertising!), this book was a great introduction to religious art and philosophy. Never before have I found the two to be more accessibly presented. However the whimsical illustrations (not the photos, but the gargoyles littering every other page) and riffing tangents made me feel like I was reading a kid's board book on medieval history. On the whole, a friendly but sloppy history.
did-not-finish
October 10, 2021Ditching at 35%. Just bored.
July 8, 2008
The central thesis that Mr. Cahill sets forth in Mysteries of the Middle Ages certainly intrigued me from the outset. I was very curious to see the threads of modern thinking rising from the ashes of the Roman Empire, and how the Catholic Church facilitated this remarkable transition. Unfortunately, I never felt that the author completely proved his main argument. While I enjoyed the examples provided by Francis of Assisi, Francis Bacon, Hildegard, etc. I never really felt that this book came together as his other works have done. He attempts to explain the lose feel by pointing out that the middle ages were incredibly disparate based on region, philosophy, fiefdom (among other causes), but this explanation does not compensate for the lack of tight narrative flow that one finds in his other Hinges of History volumes. Worth dipping into if you have the time, but I would recommend his other works well above this outing.
December 17, 2013
I put this down pretty much exactly halfway through, when the author leaves the Middle Ages and goes on an unnecessary anti-Islam diatribe, parroting the right-wing anti-Muslim talking points you hear from any Fox News guest. It is otherwise a compelling account of a hodgepodge of figures from Catholic history; though neither deep nor thought-provoking, at least fairly interesting. I have no idea why the author decided to ruin his own credibility halfway through, and I can't imagine why his editor let him.
December 27, 2019
Far from comprehensive but very readable. Cahill covers Hildegard, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Thomas Aquinas, Dante and Roger Bacon, along with many other famous figures of the time. Cahill traces art and science throughout the period and the influence of Catholicism on Western culture. If nothing else, this book made me want to read more about Eleanor of Aquitaine and the Plantagenets.
June 9, 2025
I finished this in a sprint, fueled by indignation and disbelief. First of all, the thesis was presented in an incredibly weird fashion which left much to be desired. Some narratives seemed to not contribute anything to the foreseen conclusion, and some were straight up silly (was Eleanor d’Aquitaine truly a protofeminist? Cmon).
Based on my own research, done after reading, the author was a practicing Catholic. What a surprise! I would rather cut my own hand off than write in such manner about St Bernard de Clairvaux (among other slandered saints). Or about the “medieval inventions” of the papacy (not in a “he was only first among equals” way, but in a “there was no pope at all, wasn’t a thing” way) and of purgatory (has he not read St Augustine, whom he claims to have quarrels with in this very book?).
The content in itself was super interesting, enough to keep me reading all the way through. Undoubtedly Cahill was in love with life. This is easily seen in his prose. He died a few years ago and I truly wish him Heaven! Perhaps a little so he can see St Bernard there and be reconciled (and proved wrong). Amen. I’m not picking up another one of his books though.
Based on my own research, done after reading, the author was a practicing Catholic. What a surprise! I would rather cut my own hand off than write in such manner about St Bernard de Clairvaux (among other slandered saints). Or about the “medieval inventions” of the papacy (not in a “he was only first among equals” way, but in a “there was no pope at all, wasn’t a thing” way) and of purgatory (has he not read St Augustine, whom he claims to have quarrels with in this very book?).
The content in itself was super interesting, enough to keep me reading all the way through. Undoubtedly Cahill was in love with life. This is easily seen in his prose. He died a few years ago and I truly wish him Heaven! Perhaps a little so he can see St Bernard there and be reconciled (and proved wrong). Amen. I’m not picking up another one of his books though.
May 8, 2019
I truly appreciated this take on the history of the Medieval Times. He focused on those who made a significant difference in the history that affects our lives today. I enjoyed every moment with this book.
April 6, 2013
Cahill writes an often entertaining though wholly biased account of select people and events covering a large range of Medieval history. I was mostly able to ignore his biased rants when applying his pretty obvious religious judgements in most instances but when, near the end, he launches into a vitriolic rant concerning the Byzantine reign of Justinian and his empress-wife Theodora that mirrors all the vitriolic personal attacks in Procopius' "Secret Histories," the depth of the bias throughout the Cahill's book became all the more evident. The two works in fact share the quality of presenting events with knowledge and some insight, though severely clouded with judgmental attacks based on the morals of the authors. In Cahill's case, he back-applies those morals and judgements from our time. Most modern historians agree that the lurid accounts Procopius presents in his Secret History aren't much more than bitter axe grinding at best.
The other issue I have with Cahill is his huge stumble into the trap of presentism. He bases his theses, again, on back-applying modern perspectives on the distant past leading to, what he assumes, are obvious correlations. Most of these arguments are thin at best and downright laughable at worst. This isn’t history. It’s a mish-mash of historical events and figures used as a vehicle for a moral soap-box at times and often as evidence for causation that is weak to ridiculous.
The other issue I have with Cahill is his huge stumble into the trap of presentism. He bases his theses, again, on back-applying modern perspectives on the distant past leading to, what he assumes, are obvious correlations. Most of these arguments are thin at best and downright laughable at worst. This isn’t history. It’s a mish-mash of historical events and figures used as a vehicle for a moral soap-box at times and often as evidence for causation that is weak to ridiculous.
September 22, 2008
This was a pretty book, generous with maps, photos, illustrations, and set in a beautiful typeface. Sadly, that's the best I can say for it. This was a superficial, chatty waste of money and time. Picked this up in an airport bookstall - FAIL. I felt crankier after reading this in flight than I imagine I would have if I'd just spent the two hours making funny little seatback-tray mosaics with my standard-issue airline pretzels.
October 16, 2009
Disappointing in some ways, though fascinating in others. I got the feeling that Cahill had some research notes lying around from his earlier books and didn't want them to go to waste -- so he assembled this book which seems quite episodic and covers a seeming hodge-podge of topics.
March 29, 2020
I just reread this book I first read back in 2007 so here is my new review (with the same same four star rating):
Review title: Growing into the West
In The Hinges of History, v. 5, Cahill brings his unique historical approach to the 12th and 13th centuries. When we last heard from Cahill in volume 4, he was Sailing the Wine Dark Sea to introduce us to how the Greek language, political structures, and philosophers shaped their classical world and our modern world. Here, he starts with a preface and introduction re-establishing our footing in the Greek and Roman world within the context of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam in the early centuries of the AD era, then develops the continuing impact of these "singular treasures that make up the patrimony of the West" as Cahill calls it in his introduction describing the Hinges of History series.
As is typical of Cahill, but not often of histories, he focuses not on the sequence of events but on the seriousness of ideas, of philosophy, art, architecture, and belief. And as is typical of the series, these treasures come not from kings or popes, who are merely bit players in this history, but from men and women who mattered most then and still today, whether sainted, venerated, or merely followed. Here we meet Saint Hildegard, who as a cloistered virgin saw visions and preached sermons that pointed the way to worship of the Virgin Mary, a worship reflected in the stained glass art and architecture of the great cathedrals built to the glory of Notre Dame. We meet Eleanor of Aquitaine who as duchess and queen shaped political history, but in the last two decades of her life, retired to the cloisters, she pointed the way to Francis of Assisi, who preached a radical form of love for God through love for his creation. Cahill describes Francis' death:
Cahill always illustrates his Hinges of History books richly because so many of his arguments are visual, and this one is no exception, with representations of the Virgin and her son from these centuries showing romance becoming prayer in the loving mother and baby's tender poses in contrast to the severe faces and stereotyped poses of previous centuries. This collage of images contains "swatches of late antique and early medieval Rome, oddly conjoined strips from maps both geographical and metaphysical, a not-so-blushing virgin, a blushless queen, and (as we shall soon see) a nun who prides herself on being her lover's whore. What on earth do all these things have to do with one another? But to present the Middle Ages otherwise--as a seamless garment--would be to falsify their character and leave the reader grasping at a phantasm." (p. 187-188). Cahill paints scenes with words and pictures that bring history into living motion and emotion.
In the second half of the story Cahill highlights Thomas Aquinas and Roger Bacon, whose faith and philosophical grounding in the newly-rediscovered Aristotelean emphasis on evidence and experimentation built on the sensual textures of Hildegard and Francis to establish the modern European university model. Paris, Oxford, Bologna, and Padua gathered scholars and students in educational settings that remain recognizable today. It is indisputable, regardless of the frequency of counter examples and of the prevailing perception of modern critics, that it was with the example of Jesus's life, the rise of Christianity through individuals living out his example in the centuries after, and the ascendancy of the church in the Middle Ages that the status of women and the pursuit of science were established even when occasionally denied by orthodoxy or organizational action.
Cahill completes the scope of his subtitle by closing the loop back to art, in the textual complexity of Dante's Divine Comedy and the frescos and architecture that both inspired and were inspired by this culminating masterpiece of this broad period of history. In further explanation of the book title, Cahill writes that he is using the word "Mysteries" in the contemporary definition which roughly corresponds to the sacraments, of which the most important (and the most mysterious) is communion. In Cahill's hands, this communion is more than just a sacramental ritual, but a mystery of spiritual and historical beauty that indeed is a hinge on which the history of the modern world pivots:
Here was my original review:
Greek matrix populated by Judeo-Christian content
This book is greatly readable as are all of Cahill's "Hinge of History" series (this the fifth), but less satisfying to me than the others. In this entry Cahill ties together the roots of history from
--Judaism (The Gifts of the Jews: How a Tribe of Desert Nomads Changed the Way Everyone Thinks and Feels (Hinges of History)),
--Jesus (Desire of the Everlasting Hills: The World Before and After Jesus (Hinges of History))
and
--Greece (Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea: Why the Greeks Matter)
as preserved by the Irish (How the Irish Saved Civilization (Hinges of History).
As Cahill summarizes in conclusion, Western civilization is a Greek matrix populated by Judeo-Christian content.
In the leap from Roman times to the High Middle Ages of the 12th and 13th Century, Cahill must cover so much territory that this books feels more like a rushed survey than the deeper but still accessible studies of the earlier books. In addition, because the sequence of the books has not been strictly chronological, Cahill must (especially early on) make frequent footnote references to the earlier books, a technique as confusing and potentially distracting as a movie told in out-of-sequence flashbacks.
But this book is like the others well and purposefully illustrated, and Cahill's ability to phrase old events and idea in living language enables fresh light to dawn on long-dark events. My favorite bit from this book is an English Carol (uncertain of date, but probably from the time period of this book)) called "My Dancing Day", as Cahill writes
"a love story in which Christ the Lord seeks out Mankind his Beloved in order to welcome human beings back into 'the general dance', the fantastic, if hidden, harmony of creation. In a searching theological exposition, such a thought might not appear simple, but here it is presented as if in a child's picture book."
1. Tomorrow shall be my dancing day;
I would my true love did so chance
To see the legend of my play,
To call my true love to my dance;
Chorus
Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love1
2. Then was I born of a virgin pure
Of her I took fleshly substance
Thus was I knit to man's nature
To call my true love to my dance. Chorus
3. In a manger laid, and wrapped I was
So very poor, this was my chance
Betwixt an ox and a silly poor ass
To call my true love to my dance. Chorus
4. Then afterwards baptized I was;
The Holy Ghost on me did glance,
My Father's voice heard from above,
To call my true love to my dance. Chorus
5. Into the desert I was led,
Where I fasted without substance;
The Devil bade me make stones my bread,
To have me break my true love's dance. Chorus
6. The Jews on me they made great suit,
And with me made great variance,
Because they loved darkness rather than light,
To call my true love to my dance. Chorus
7. For thirty pence Judas me sold,
His covetousness for to advance:
Mark whom I kiss, the same do hold!
The same is he shall lead the dance. Chorus
8. Before Pilate the Jews me brought,
Where Barabbas had deliverance;
They scourged me and set me at nought,
Judged me to die to lead the dance. Chorus
9. Then on the cross hanged I was,
Where a spear my heart did glance;
There issued forth both water and blood,
To call my true love to my dance. Chorus
10. Then down to hell I took my way
For my true love's deliverance,
And rose again on the third day,
Up to my true love and the dance. Chorus
11. Then up to heaven I did ascend,
Where now I dwell in sure substance
On the right hand of God, that man
May come unto the general dance. Chorus
Review title: Growing into the West
In The Hinges of History, v. 5, Cahill brings his unique historical approach to the 12th and 13th centuries. When we last heard from Cahill in volume 4, he was Sailing the Wine Dark Sea to introduce us to how the Greek language, political structures, and philosophers shaped their classical world and our modern world. Here, he starts with a preface and introduction re-establishing our footing in the Greek and Roman world within the context of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam in the early centuries of the AD era, then develops the continuing impact of these "singular treasures that make up the patrimony of the West" as Cahill calls it in his introduction describing the Hinges of History series.
As is typical of Cahill, but not often of histories, he focuses not on the sequence of events but on the seriousness of ideas, of philosophy, art, architecture, and belief. And as is typical of the series, these treasures come not from kings or popes, who are merely bit players in this history, but from men and women who mattered most then and still today, whether sainted, venerated, or merely followed. Here we meet Saint Hildegard, who as a cloistered virgin saw visions and preached sermons that pointed the way to worship of the Virgin Mary, a worship reflected in the stained glass art and architecture of the great cathedrals built to the glory of Notre Dame. We meet Eleanor of Aquitaine who as duchess and queen shaped political history, but in the last two decades of her life, retired to the cloisters, she pointed the way to Francis of Assisi, who preached a radical form of love for God through love for his creation. Cahill describes Francis' death:
"I have done what is mine," were his last whispered words to his companions. "May Christ teach what is yours to do." Larks sang and flew in circles above the house where he died. As Frances had already noticed, they are the birds who "are friends of the light."
And that is how romance became prayer. (p. 173)
Cahill always illustrates his Hinges of History books richly because so many of his arguments are visual, and this one is no exception, with representations of the Virgin and her son from these centuries showing romance becoming prayer in the loving mother and baby's tender poses in contrast to the severe faces and stereotyped poses of previous centuries. This collage of images contains "swatches of late antique and early medieval Rome, oddly conjoined strips from maps both geographical and metaphysical, a not-so-blushing virgin, a blushless queen, and (as we shall soon see) a nun who prides herself on being her lover's whore. What on earth do all these things have to do with one another? But to present the Middle Ages otherwise--as a seamless garment--would be to falsify their character and leave the reader grasping at a phantasm." (p. 187-188). Cahill paints scenes with words and pictures that bring history into living motion and emotion.
In the second half of the story Cahill highlights Thomas Aquinas and Roger Bacon, whose faith and philosophical grounding in the newly-rediscovered Aristotelean emphasis on evidence and experimentation built on the sensual textures of Hildegard and Francis to establish the modern European university model. Paris, Oxford, Bologna, and Padua gathered scholars and students in educational settings that remain recognizable today. It is indisputable, regardless of the frequency of counter examples and of the prevailing perception of modern critics, that it was with the example of Jesus's life, the rise of Christianity through individuals living out his example in the centuries after, and the ascendancy of the church in the Middle Ages that the status of women and the pursuit of science were established even when occasionally denied by orthodoxy or organizational action.
Cahill completes the scope of his subtitle by closing the loop back to art, in the textual complexity of Dante's Divine Comedy and the frescos and architecture that both inspired and were inspired by this culminating masterpiece of this broad period of history. In further explanation of the book title, Cahill writes that he is using the word "Mysteries" in the contemporary definition which roughly corresponds to the sacraments, of which the most important (and the most mysterious) is communion. In Cahill's hands, this communion is more than just a sacramental ritual, but a mystery of spiritual and historical beauty that indeed is a hinge on which the history of the modern world pivots:
The God-Man finds his home on earth [at his birth] among the poor, the outcast, the forgotten. . . . He and his parents are just a mite uncomfortable when three exotic kings arrive to pay homage. There is no shallow cleverness; what profundity there is rests only in the depths of humane meaning that the images can conjure up. . . . [after his death and resurrection] This is a love story in which Christ the Lover seeks out Mankind his Beloved in order to welcome human beings back into "the general dance," the fantastic, if hidden, harmony of creation . (p. 53-54)
Here was my original review:
Greek matrix populated by Judeo-Christian content
This book is greatly readable as are all of Cahill's "Hinge of History" series (this the fifth), but less satisfying to me than the others. In this entry Cahill ties together the roots of history from
--Judaism (The Gifts of the Jews: How a Tribe of Desert Nomads Changed the Way Everyone Thinks and Feels (Hinges of History)),
--Jesus (Desire of the Everlasting Hills: The World Before and After Jesus (Hinges of History))
and
--Greece (Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea: Why the Greeks Matter)
as preserved by the Irish (How the Irish Saved Civilization (Hinges of History).
As Cahill summarizes in conclusion, Western civilization is a Greek matrix populated by Judeo-Christian content.
In the leap from Roman times to the High Middle Ages of the 12th and 13th Century, Cahill must cover so much territory that this books feels more like a rushed survey than the deeper but still accessible studies of the earlier books. In addition, because the sequence of the books has not been strictly chronological, Cahill must (especially early on) make frequent footnote references to the earlier books, a technique as confusing and potentially distracting as a movie told in out-of-sequence flashbacks.
But this book is like the others well and purposefully illustrated, and Cahill's ability to phrase old events and idea in living language enables fresh light to dawn on long-dark events. My favorite bit from this book is an English Carol (uncertain of date, but probably from the time period of this book)) called "My Dancing Day", as Cahill writes
"a love story in which Christ the Lord seeks out Mankind his Beloved in order to welcome human beings back into 'the general dance', the fantastic, if hidden, harmony of creation. In a searching theological exposition, such a thought might not appear simple, but here it is presented as if in a child's picture book."
1. Tomorrow shall be my dancing day;
I would my true love did so chance
To see the legend of my play,
To call my true love to my dance;
Chorus
Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love1
2. Then was I born of a virgin pure
Of her I took fleshly substance
Thus was I knit to man's nature
To call my true love to my dance. Chorus
3. In a manger laid, and wrapped I was
So very poor, this was my chance
Betwixt an ox and a silly poor ass
To call my true love to my dance. Chorus
4. Then afterwards baptized I was;
The Holy Ghost on me did glance,
My Father's voice heard from above,
To call my true love to my dance. Chorus
5. Into the desert I was led,
Where I fasted without substance;
The Devil bade me make stones my bread,
To have me break my true love's dance. Chorus
6. The Jews on me they made great suit,
And with me made great variance,
Because they loved darkness rather than light,
To call my true love to my dance. Chorus
7. For thirty pence Judas me sold,
His covetousness for to advance:
Mark whom I kiss, the same do hold!
The same is he shall lead the dance. Chorus
8. Before Pilate the Jews me brought,
Where Barabbas had deliverance;
They scourged me and set me at nought,
Judged me to die to lead the dance. Chorus
9. Then on the cross hanged I was,
Where a spear my heart did glance;
There issued forth both water and blood,
To call my true love to my dance. Chorus
10. Then down to hell I took my way
For my true love's deliverance,
And rose again on the third day,
Up to my true love and the dance. Chorus
11. Then up to heaven I did ascend,
Where now I dwell in sure substance
On the right hand of God, that man
May come unto the general dance. Chorus
September 11, 2014
The main reason I decided to buy this book, rather than borrowing it from the library, was because of the inclusion of the beautiful and colorful illustrations, paintings, and photographs (I even bought it in Barnes and Noble instead of Amazon!). From the aesthetic perspective, this is the type of book you want sitting on your bookshelf, and in many ways, it was a very good book. I enjoyed learning about how science, art, and religion intersected during the Middle Ages and how a secular society morphed into a Christian one. I had never seriously considered how the Romans became the Italians. I thought Cahill’s portraits of Dante, Eleanor of Aquitaine, and Hildegard of Bingen were insightful and well-written. I especially enjoyed his analysis of Giotto’s frescos in the Scrovegni chapel. The Middle Ages was a rich time indeed and I feel as though I learned a great deal from reading this book, but overall, it lacked polish.
First, the tone was confusing. Attempts at demonstrating reverence for prayer and other religious rituals were offset by juvenile and often offensive asides that had all the finesse of a clever college frat boy trying desperately to catch people’s attention. Most glaring was Cahill’s reference to Christ on page 315 (I’ll let you look that one up yourself). Certainly, Cahill is appealing to a modern and perhaps a mostly secular audience, but I found he bordered on disrespectful and was unnecessarily crude, even while trying to impress on his reader the profound religiosity of so many in the Middle Ages.
Most obnoxious though was the way Cahill muddied with waters by inserting his own personal diatribes against Bush, nuclear weapons, and current issues of sexual abuse and homosexuality within the Catholic church. I was surprised to find that instead of devoting his final chapter to the so-called mysteries of the Middle Ages, that he used it as a platform in which to decry the Catholic church for what he sees as their inappropriate response to current problems. Cahill may or may not be correct in his assertions, but in no way does this contribute to the thesis of his book. I expected to walk away from this with my head swimming with the wonders and mysteries of the Middle Ages (much like I felt after reading Richard Holmes’ The Age of Wonder). Instead, my final impression of this book was about the current Catholic church and its need for reform. Once again, not something I necessarily disagree with, but certainly not the reason I bought this book.
I feel as though the title and information on the back of this book is intentionally misleading. In his postlude, Cahill states that, “The story this book has had to tell is the story of the (often overlooked and belittled) Catholic contribution to Western civilization. Yet, the back of this book tells me that I’m going to learn about “how medieval thinkers created the origins of modern intellectual movements.” The book jacket makes absolutely NO mention of Catholicism; yet according to Cahill, that’s really what the book is about. Interestingly, I notice that on the Goodreads edition, the full title does indicate that this book will be dealing with "the cults of Catholic Europe," yet the full title of my book is "Mysteries of the Middle Ages and the Beginning of the Modern World." A quick search on Amazon shows me that the first title was from the 2006 edition and the new title (the one that doesn't mention Catholicism) is from 2008. I'm not sure why they decided to edit the title (perhaps referring to Catholicism as a cult was offensive to some), but the former title is more true to the contents of the book.
First, the tone was confusing. Attempts at demonstrating reverence for prayer and other religious rituals were offset by juvenile and often offensive asides that had all the finesse of a clever college frat boy trying desperately to catch people’s attention. Most glaring was Cahill’s reference to Christ on page 315 (I’ll let you look that one up yourself). Certainly, Cahill is appealing to a modern and perhaps a mostly secular audience, but I found he bordered on disrespectful and was unnecessarily crude, even while trying to impress on his reader the profound religiosity of so many in the Middle Ages.
Most obnoxious though was the way Cahill muddied with waters by inserting his own personal diatribes against Bush, nuclear weapons, and current issues of sexual abuse and homosexuality within the Catholic church. I was surprised to find that instead of devoting his final chapter to the so-called mysteries of the Middle Ages, that he used it as a platform in which to decry the Catholic church for what he sees as their inappropriate response to current problems. Cahill may or may not be correct in his assertions, but in no way does this contribute to the thesis of his book. I expected to walk away from this with my head swimming with the wonders and mysteries of the Middle Ages (much like I felt after reading Richard Holmes’ The Age of Wonder). Instead, my final impression of this book was about the current Catholic church and its need for reform. Once again, not something I necessarily disagree with, but certainly not the reason I bought this book.
I feel as though the title and information on the back of this book is intentionally misleading. In his postlude, Cahill states that, “The story this book has had to tell is the story of the (often overlooked and belittled) Catholic contribution to Western civilization. Yet, the back of this book tells me that I’m going to learn about “how medieval thinkers created the origins of modern intellectual movements.” The book jacket makes absolutely NO mention of Catholicism; yet according to Cahill, that’s really what the book is about. Interestingly, I notice that on the Goodreads edition, the full title does indicate that this book will be dealing with "the cults of Catholic Europe," yet the full title of my book is "Mysteries of the Middle Ages and the Beginning of the Modern World." A quick search on Amazon shows me that the first title was from the 2006 edition and the new title (the one that doesn't mention Catholicism) is from 2008. I'm not sure why they decided to edit the title (perhaps referring to Catholicism as a cult was offensive to some), but the former title is more true to the contents of the book.
November 5, 2023
The book invites the reader to a delightful journey through the High Middle Ages that provided the foundation of Renaissance and modernity. Thomas Chaill prefers to focus on several key people and locations, giving the reader a sense of life in the High Middle Ages with cultural references and anecdotes instead of a classical historical approach.
Moreover, the book's design is spectacular; the paintings, photographs, colours and style are eye-catching.
Moreover, the book's design is spectacular; the paintings, photographs, colours and style are eye-catching.
September 17, 2010
MYSTERIES OF THE MIDDLE AGES: AND THE BEGINNING OF THE MODERN WORLD BY THOMAS CAHILL: In the fifth book in his Hinges of History series, Thomas Cahill takes on the period of the middle ages, going into depth on the important people of the era and what effect they had on the history. Regardless of the actual content of the book, Mysteries of the Middles Ages deserves an award for excellence in design and layout. It is one of the most ornate and beautifully designed books I’ve ever read. As soon as one opens the cover, one is greeted by color and lavish design, colorful photographs and paintings, as well as eye-catching and picaresque fonts.
Cahill begins with a somewhat lengthy introduction spending a little too much time on the content of his past books and leading through the centuries up to the fall of Rome and the beginning of the Middle Ages. He then skips past the “Dark Ages” and jumps to the twelfth century with Hildegard of Bingen. There is very little mention, and certainly no chapters on the likes of Charlemagne, Alfred the Great, or William the Conqueror, who were all incredibly important people in first setting in motion specific events, ideas, and practices that gave rise the High Middle Ages and the great strides made therein, as well as creating precedents and standards that are used in today’s modern age. Subtitling this as “And the Beginning of the Modern World,” is somewhat insulting when only in a small aside does Cahill discuss Muhammad and the birth of Islam in the late sixth century, after spending a quarter of the book on Jesus.
Nevertheless, for what Cahill does spend his time talking about, he does well and thoroughly. Using a conversational and at times jocular tone, making this a book for the layman, he begins with Hildegard of Bingen and then goes on to Eleanor of Aquitaine, one of the most important women in the history of the western world. It is here that Cahill digs into the deep and complex history of the High Middle Ages with the rise of the universities and the growth of science and math and art and the crucial stirrings of what would come to be known as the Renaissance, beginning in Paris, then Oxford, and finally to Italy with Padua, Florence, and Ravenna, concluding with Dante.
While Mysteries of the Middle Ages should not be considered a complete telling of the important people and “hinges” of the Middle Ages, it nevertheless is an excellent book on the High Middle Ages, and some of the important people who made great strides and leaps – sometimes at the cost of their own lives – to help create the civilized and advanced world we live in today.
For more book reviews, and author interviews, go to BookBanter.
Cahill begins with a somewhat lengthy introduction spending a little too much time on the content of his past books and leading through the centuries up to the fall of Rome and the beginning of the Middle Ages. He then skips past the “Dark Ages” and jumps to the twelfth century with Hildegard of Bingen. There is very little mention, and certainly no chapters on the likes of Charlemagne, Alfred the Great, or William the Conqueror, who were all incredibly important people in first setting in motion specific events, ideas, and practices that gave rise the High Middle Ages and the great strides made therein, as well as creating precedents and standards that are used in today’s modern age. Subtitling this as “And the Beginning of the Modern World,” is somewhat insulting when only in a small aside does Cahill discuss Muhammad and the birth of Islam in the late sixth century, after spending a quarter of the book on Jesus.
Nevertheless, for what Cahill does spend his time talking about, he does well and thoroughly. Using a conversational and at times jocular tone, making this a book for the layman, he begins with Hildegard of Bingen and then goes on to Eleanor of Aquitaine, one of the most important women in the history of the western world. It is here that Cahill digs into the deep and complex history of the High Middle Ages with the rise of the universities and the growth of science and math and art and the crucial stirrings of what would come to be known as the Renaissance, beginning in Paris, then Oxford, and finally to Italy with Padua, Florence, and Ravenna, concluding with Dante.
While Mysteries of the Middle Ages should not be considered a complete telling of the important people and “hinges” of the Middle Ages, it nevertheless is an excellent book on the High Middle Ages, and some of the important people who made great strides and leaps – sometimes at the cost of their own lives – to help create the civilized and advanced world we live in today.
For more book reviews, and author interviews, go to BookBanter.
August 18, 2009
This is a well written book that illustrates some of the major advances toward a more modern world that occurred during the middle ages. This is largely accomplished through a detailed examination of several key people (and one could surely quibble with these selections, although they are pretty reasonable to me): Hildegarde of Bingen, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Francis of Assisi, Peter Abelard, Henry II (Plantagenet), Roger Bacon, Dante, Giotto, and a handful of others.
One issue that bothered me somewhat: the focus or purpose of this book is not real clear. The author, Thomas Cahill, begins by mentioning that the Middle Ages are, against the claims of some, the beginnings of modernity and has often been unappreciated for its contributions. However, at the end, he notes that (Page 313) "The story this book has had to tell is the story of the (often overlooked and belittled) Catholic contribution to Western civilization." And then, if one reads the book, he is often quite critical of the Catholic hierarchy. Thus, I am not sure that there is a consistent thematic spine to the book. That is hardly critical, but I sometimes asked myself what the purpose of this book might be.
That said, this is a handsomely produced work. There is a nice technique for including footnotes on the pages where a reference is made; there are very nice reproductions of the art of the day, maps, and so on; there is plenty of space between the lines and this renders reading much easier. From time to time there are summary charts (e.g., key dates on timelines).
For those (including me) who may a little about some of the key players but not much about others, this is a delight. I enjoy the music of Hildegarde of Bingen, but I scarcely had a sense of her role in the history of the times. Abelard and Eloise was a rather lugubrious story to me, but I had no great depth of information on their relationship and the events that challenged them. The juxtaposition of Thomas Aquinas and Francis of Assisi is nicely done.
On the other hand, gratuitous and underdeveloped linkages to today's politics just detract from the narrative flow. On pages 182-183, we read a rather ill formed critique of George Bush. Whatever one thinks of Bush and his Iraqi policy, such a throwaway commentary contributes little and is, in fact, irritating. If an author wish to draw parallels to today's political situation, such an author should be obliged to flesh out the comment rather than making snide asides.
Overall, though, a well done work exploring the important changes taking place in the Middle Ages, presaging the move to modernity.
One issue that bothered me somewhat: the focus or purpose of this book is not real clear. The author, Thomas Cahill, begins by mentioning that the Middle Ages are, against the claims of some, the beginnings of modernity and has often been unappreciated for its contributions. However, at the end, he notes that (Page 313) "The story this book has had to tell is the story of the (often overlooked and belittled) Catholic contribution to Western civilization." And then, if one reads the book, he is often quite critical of the Catholic hierarchy. Thus, I am not sure that there is a consistent thematic spine to the book. That is hardly critical, but I sometimes asked myself what the purpose of this book might be.
That said, this is a handsomely produced work. There is a nice technique for including footnotes on the pages where a reference is made; there are very nice reproductions of the art of the day, maps, and so on; there is plenty of space between the lines and this renders reading much easier. From time to time there are summary charts (e.g., key dates on timelines).
For those (including me) who may a little about some of the key players but not much about others, this is a delight. I enjoy the music of Hildegarde of Bingen, but I scarcely had a sense of her role in the history of the times. Abelard and Eloise was a rather lugubrious story to me, but I had no great depth of information on their relationship and the events that challenged them. The juxtaposition of Thomas Aquinas and Francis of Assisi is nicely done.
On the other hand, gratuitous and underdeveloped linkages to today's politics just detract from the narrative flow. On pages 182-183, we read a rather ill formed critique of George Bush. Whatever one thinks of Bush and his Iraqi policy, such a throwaway commentary contributes little and is, in fact, irritating. If an author wish to draw parallels to today's political situation, such an author should be obliged to flesh out the comment rather than making snide asides.
Overall, though, a well done work exploring the important changes taking place in the Middle Ages, presaging the move to modernity.
January 22, 2019
Mysteries of the Middle Ages: The Rise of Feminism, Science and Art from the Cults of Catholic Europe is a delightful book and I would have been happy with one at least twice its length. I have read How the Irish Saved Civilization, another in Thomas Cahill's Hinges of History series and, sooner or later, I will wind up reading the rest. They are so interesting. Besides, it's always nice when an author agrees with you and I have also always felt that the in between periods of history foreshadow what will take place in their more famous following periods. Here, it is what happened in the High Middle Ages that opened the path to the Renaissance. For me, it's where the really interesting things are happening because so few people are doing them. When the Renaissance comes along, everyone has gotten into the act.
Cahill starts with an introduction that reviews the major points of Greek influence on the middle ages with Aristotle's re-discovery the most influential. The book itself deals with several notable characters in major fields. Hildegard of Bingen is here to represent feminism, flanked by certainly her morally opposite, but no less powerful number, Eleanor of Aquitaine. For science and philosophy, there is Roger Bacon and Thomas Aquinas. There is even an interesting discussion of alchemy and the popular search for the Philosopher's Stone as a prototype of the scientific method. Overall though, Cahill reserves his highest praise for St. Francis of Assisi and his Franciscans, Dante and the Commedia, and Giotto's innovations in art. The book itself is lavishly illustrated throughout and filled with beautiful colored plates.
Its biggest drawback is several side issues that are obviously important to Cahill but really don't belong in a history book, even a breezy, reader-friendly one. Talking about modern Presidencies, political issues like the death penalty and indulging in what can only be called a mini-diatribe on the current moral state of the hierarchy in the church distracts even though I agree with all of it. Otherwise, this is a wonderful trip through the High Middle Ages.
Cahill starts with an introduction that reviews the major points of Greek influence on the middle ages with Aristotle's re-discovery the most influential. The book itself deals with several notable characters in major fields. Hildegard of Bingen is here to represent feminism, flanked by certainly her morally opposite, but no less powerful number, Eleanor of Aquitaine. For science and philosophy, there is Roger Bacon and Thomas Aquinas. There is even an interesting discussion of alchemy and the popular search for the Philosopher's Stone as a prototype of the scientific method. Overall though, Cahill reserves his highest praise for St. Francis of Assisi and his Franciscans, Dante and the Commedia, and Giotto's innovations in art. The book itself is lavishly illustrated throughout and filled with beautiful colored plates.
Its biggest drawback is several side issues that are obviously important to Cahill but really don't belong in a history book, even a breezy, reader-friendly one. Talking about modern Presidencies, political issues like the death penalty and indulging in what can only be called a mini-diatribe on the current moral state of the hierarchy in the church distracts even though I agree with all of it. Otherwise, this is a wonderful trip through the High Middle Ages.
September 24, 2013
Didn't really enjoy this book. It *was* about the middle ages (though mostly the 12th century and mostly Italy) but mysteries, not so much. The rise of feminism, science and art from the cults of Catholic Europe, not so much. It was more like selected anecdotes from the lives of sundry medieval famous people, with an eye towards how Greek thought did or did not influence them and then a ton of fawning of Dante. With a LOT of passages in early Italian. (Which I'm sure is very lovely, but, plebe that I am, I had to read the Divine Comedy in translation, many years ago).
I don't know, I studied a lot of medieval art and culture at university and found it pretty fascinating, but this book just didn't do it for me. It had a lot of odd and somewhat inappropriate tangents, as others have mentioned. I could have done with less Bush in Iraq and some of my best friends died on death row and more (and deeper) connections between medieval art, science, religion and cultural history. Also could have done with a lot more Northern Europe. It's pretty sad to talk about Medieval culture and ignore Flemish painting, French and English architecture and Irish manuscripts...
I don't know, I studied a lot of medieval art and culture at university and found it pretty fascinating, but this book just didn't do it for me. It had a lot of odd and somewhat inappropriate tangents, as others have mentioned. I could have done with less Bush in Iraq and some of my best friends died on death row and more (and deeper) connections between medieval art, science, religion and cultural history. Also could have done with a lot more Northern Europe. It's pretty sad to talk about Medieval culture and ignore Flemish painting, French and English architecture and Irish manuscripts...
December 31, 2015
A thesis-less pseudo-academic mess. There was a chapter about Abelard, Thomas Aquinas, and a couple chapters on Dante which had nothing to do with anything. So Aquinas said that unbaptized children go to limbo and not hell - but now the church is mum about Limbo (I think they recently got rid of it). So what? Abelard had a love affair that seems sorta modern. Dante wrote about heaven and helped shaped our modern notions of it. If you've read Dante, you already know this.
The most interesting part was the prologue about Alexandria which the author even admits is out of place in the book.
The book read like a bunch of unconnected musings on the writings that helped shaped modern notions of art, science, and feminism (which is a pretty broad subject)--- Feminism is stated in the subtitle but I don't recall the author ever explicitly writing about it.
And yes, the book is a pretty thing. Awesome font and numerous color illustrations which helps to wash this sickening taste out of my mouth.
The most interesting part was the prologue about Alexandria which the author even admits is out of place in the book.
The book read like a bunch of unconnected musings on the writings that helped shaped modern notions of art, science, and feminism (which is a pretty broad subject)--- Feminism is stated in the subtitle but I don't recall the author ever explicitly writing about it.
And yes, the book is a pretty thing. Awesome font and numerous color illustrations which helps to wash this sickening taste out of my mouth.
May 31, 2015
Obviously aimed at High School sophmores. Inaccurate, trite, pretentious...I'm running out of words to describe it.
This book is part of a much larger series which I will avoid like the plague.
This book is part of a much larger series which I will avoid like the plague.
December 11, 2015
Nothing could shake How the Irish Saved Civilization as his best, but all of Cahill's Hinges of History books are wonderful.
August 3, 2022
What a fascinating yet highly unusual book! Part history, part expressive timeline, part commentary - Thomas Cahill winds through the Middle Ages much like a traveler spinning a colorful education to others on the pilgrimage much like the Canterbury Tales (Cahill kicks off the book with that metaphor)
Wandering from Alexandria in the first century to Dante in about the 14th, Cahill focuses on specific figures of history that aren’t so much the common leaders or names,but to those that brought something more to Western culture - the combination of logical Greeks thinking mixed with the Christian mysteries that led to Renaissance. Names such as Philo, Constantine the Great, St Augustine, Hildegard, Eleanor of Aquitaine, St Francis, Abelard & Heloise, Giotto, Dante, etc.
As a reader we’re taken on a ride through history with long stops on key moments that began the merging of Christian cults, art and ceremony into the daily lives of Europe. How feminism was shaped by some of these events remains a bit of a mystery to me (as noted in the title). I wasn’t convinced overall on that point.
Oddly, I can’t say this is written exactly as a scholarly historical work - the writing winds around with the mixing of historical ‘stories’ along with some of his personal modern commentary (some of which was annoying). Yet, getting to the end his message becomes clearer. In fact, you have to get to the very end to understand what his original thesis was. I wouldn’t recommend this as a book to really dig into certain historical events but it certainly could serve as inspiration to dig deeper on specifics.
The hardcover edition of this book is beautiful - filled with color plates, hand-drawn images and maps, and printing flourishes of color splashes and fonts. I found a pristine signed first edition in a used book store and couldn’t resist buying it. All in all, an interesting read but the expressed defense of Catholicism along with anti-Muslim sentiment knocks this down to 3.5 stars (I’ll round up to 4).
Wandering from Alexandria in the first century to Dante in about the 14th, Cahill focuses on specific figures of history that aren’t so much the common leaders or names,but to those that brought something more to Western culture - the combination of logical Greeks thinking mixed with the Christian mysteries that led to Renaissance. Names such as Philo, Constantine the Great, St Augustine, Hildegard, Eleanor of Aquitaine, St Francis, Abelard & Heloise, Giotto, Dante, etc.
As a reader we’re taken on a ride through history with long stops on key moments that began the merging of Christian cults, art and ceremony into the daily lives of Europe. How feminism was shaped by some of these events remains a bit of a mystery to me (as noted in the title). I wasn’t convinced overall on that point.
Oddly, I can’t say this is written exactly as a scholarly historical work - the writing winds around with the mixing of historical ‘stories’ along with some of his personal modern commentary (some of which was annoying). Yet, getting to the end his message becomes clearer. In fact, you have to get to the very end to understand what his original thesis was. I wouldn’t recommend this as a book to really dig into certain historical events but it certainly could serve as inspiration to dig deeper on specifics.
The hardcover edition of this book is beautiful - filled with color plates, hand-drawn images and maps, and printing flourishes of color splashes and fonts. I found a pristine signed first edition in a used book store and couldn’t resist buying it. All in all, an interesting read but the expressed defense of Catholicism along with anti-Muslim sentiment knocks this down to 3.5 stars (I’ll round up to 4).
May 4, 2022
Cahill explores the middle ages by providing a detailed look at the lives and contributions of many of the great men and women of those times. It is insightful and to Cahill's great credit he strives to use positve examples of humanity and human interaction to explain the culture and events of this often misunderstood time.
He begins with a recant of Greco-Roman influences that set up the middle ages and ends his series of stories in the fourteenth century, at the cusp of the Rennaisance.
Frankly, I would have rated this book much higher if he had constrained himself to his wonderful story telling and let the reader develop their own understanding of the impact on todays world. In today's culture, Cahill wrote this in 2006, he would be considered "woke." He contains the urge to pontificate for most of the book, but let's loose in the postlude with a rant on the modern day church and a plug for a "United Nations" world order. This is not supported by his excellent telling of facts, or the sweep of history.
He begins with a recant of Greco-Roman influences that set up the middle ages and ends his series of stories in the fourteenth century, at the cusp of the Rennaisance.
Frankly, I would have rated this book much higher if he had constrained himself to his wonderful story telling and let the reader develop their own understanding of the impact on todays world. In today's culture, Cahill wrote this in 2006, he would be considered "woke." He contains the urge to pontificate for most of the book, but let's loose in the postlude with a rant on the modern day church and a plug for a "United Nations" world order. This is not supported by his excellent telling of facts, or the sweep of history.
May 29, 2017
This book probably presented a challenge for Cahill in his Hinges of History series, in that the Middle Ages is how he opened the series, with "How the Irish Saved Civilization." That book painted the fall of Rome as the beginning of a time when the preservation of ancient Greek and Roman culture presented a challenge to the continuation of civilization. But Cahill goes to lengths in this book to show that darkness did not descend on Europe with the end of the Roman Empire.
I love this series of books, but as they have gone on, I grow somewhat tired of Cahill's using 3,000 years of Western Civilization as his axe against the papacies of John Paul II and Benedict XVI, not to mention whatever politician is on his list at the moment. Whatever currency is gained by this with some readers is lost with others. You want your tour guide to point you to the canvas, and maybe tell you why its worth looking at. But at some point, they let you make the artistic appreciation. There's no need to be "relevant" when you're talking about Dante, Chaucer, Abelard or Aquinas. They remain relevant.
I love this series of books, but as they have gone on, I grow somewhat tired of Cahill's using 3,000 years of Western Civilization as his axe against the papacies of John Paul II and Benedict XVI, not to mention whatever politician is on his list at the moment. Whatever currency is gained by this with some readers is lost with others. You want your tour guide to point you to the canvas, and maybe tell you why its worth looking at. But at some point, they let you make the artistic appreciation. There's no need to be "relevant" when you're talking about Dante, Chaucer, Abelard or Aquinas. They remain relevant.
April 22, 2020
You know something's wrong when the author doesn't state their central, unifying thesis until page 195 - oh, and said thesis is only stated in a footnote. You further realize something's off when, after reading the thesis statement, you ask yourself "Oh, so that's the point you've been trying to make for almost 200 pages? I just thought you really hated William Manchester!" After reading this and the slightly less disappointing Heretics and Heroes: How Renaissance Artists and Reformation Priests Created Our World I'm going to have to give Cahill a pass for a long, long time.
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