intellect and declared that the pursuit of knowledge, unless sanctified by a holy mission,
was a pagan act and therefore vile.
Ironically, the masterwork of Christianity’s most powerful medieval philosopher was inspired by a false report. Alaric’s sack
of Rome, it was said, had been the act of a barbaric pagan seeking vengeance for his idols. (This was inaccurate; actually,
Alaric and a majority of his Visigoths were Arian Christians.) Even so, the followers of Jesus were widely blamed for bringing
about Rome’s fall; men charged that the ancient gods, offended by the empire’s formal adoption of the new faith, had withdrawn
their protection from the Eternal City. One Catholic prelate, the bishop of Hippo—Aurelius Augustinus, later Saint Augustine
—felt challenged. He devoted thirteen years to writing his response,
De civitate Dei
(
The City of God
), the first great work to shape and define the medieval mind. Augustine (354–430) began by declaring that Rome was being
punished, not for her new faith, but for her old, continuing sins: lascivious acts by the populace and corruption among politicians.
The pagan deities, he wrote, had lewdly urged Romans to yield to sexual passion—“the god Virgineus to loose the virgin’s
girdle, Subigus to put her beneath a man’s loins, Prema to hold her down … Priapus upon whose huge and beastly member the
new bride was commanded by religious order to stir and receive!”
Here Augustine, by his own account, spoke from personal experience. In his
Confessions
he had described how, before his conversion, he had devoted his youth to exploring the outer limits of carnal depravity.
But, he wrote, the original sin, and he now declared that there was such a thing, had been committed by Adam when he yielded
to Eve’s temptations. As children of Adam, he held, all mankind shared Adam’s guilt. Lust polluted every child in the very
act of conception—sexual intercourse was a “mass of perdition [
exitium
].” However, although most people were thereby damned in the womb, some could be saved by the blessed intervention of the
Virgin Mary, who possessed that power because she had conceived Christ sinlessly: “Through a woman we were sent to destruction;
through a woman salvation was restored to us.” He thus drew a sharp line. The chief distinction between the old faiths and
the new were in the sexual arena. Pagans had accepted prostitution as a relief from monogamy. Worshipers of Jesus vehemently
rejected it, demanding instead purity, chastity, and absolute fidelity in husbands and wives. Women found this ringing affirmation
enormously appealing. Aurelius Augustinus—whose influence on Christianity would be greater than that of any other man except
the apostle Paul—was the first to teach medieval men that sex was evil, and that salvation was possible only through the
intercession of the Madonna.
But there were subtler registers to Augustine’s mind. In his most complex metaphor, he divided all creation into
civitas Dei
and
civitas terrena
. Everyone had to embrace one of them, and a man’s choice would determine where he spent eternity. In chapter fifteen he explained:
“Mankind [
hominum
] is divided into two sorts: such as live according to man, and such as live according to God. These we mystically call the
‘two cities’ or societies, the one predestined to reign eternally with God, the other condemned to perpetual torment with
Satan.” Individual, he wrote, would slip back and forth between the two cities; their fate would be decided at the Last Judgment.
Because he had identified the Church with his
civitas Dei
, Augustine clearly implied the need for a theocracy, a state in which secular power, symbolizing
civitas terrena
, would be subordinate to spiritual powers derived from God. The Church, drawing the inference, thereafter used Augustine’s
reasoning as an ideological tool and, ultimately, as a weapon in