Lawful Sciences

Despite his dedication to science and mathematics—or perhaps because of it—Pope Sylvester II has been historically linked with legends of magic and sorcery, though these stories are more myth than fact. His reputation for being involved in magic largely stems from his profound knowledge and his use of what was then cutting-edge technology. This episode brings you the story of the life and legacy of Gerbert of Aurillac also known as Pope Sylvester II.   

Researched, written, and produced by Corinne Wieben with original music by Purple Planet. 

Episode sources  

Chapters

• 0:00 Pre-roll
• 0:07 Intro
• 1:50 Gerbert of Aurillac
• 8:26 Science and Magic
• 14:24 The Pope and the Devil
• 18:54 Conclusion
• 21:42 Outro

Transcript

Pre-roll
You’re listening to Enchanted, a podcast on the history of magic, sorcery and witchcraft. I’m Corinne Wieben.

Intro
In 1938, the Irish priest, linguist, and historian George O’Neill wrote, “Never, perhaps, has any occupant of the Papal See brought to it such a wide and comprehensive genius as Gerbert of Aurillac.” Gerbert, a tenth-century French scientist and scholar, sought to bring to Europe the latest understanding of mathematical, philosophical, astrological, mechanical, and other scientific developments emerging from the Islamic Caliphates. Before ascending to the papacy in 999 CE as Sylvester II, Gerbert was an abbot, scholar, teacher, and eventually an archbishop, serving in several educational and ecclesiastical roles across Europe. Despite his dedication to science and mathematics—or perhaps because of it—Pope Sylvester II has been historically linked with legends of magic and sorcery, though these stories are more myth than fact. His reputation for being involved in magic largely stems from his profound knowledge and his use of what was then cutting-edge technology.

In this episode, I bring you the story of the life and legacy of Gerbert of Aurillac also known as Pope Sylvester II.

Gerbert of Aurillac
Gerbert’s origins are somewhat shrouded in mystery. He may have been the illegitimate son of a clergyman or the son of a free peasant. Either way, he was dedicated to the church as a child to be raised and educated in the local Benedictine monastery. He grew up under the tutelage of the local monks and became a Benedictine monk around the age of seventeen, entering the monastery of Saint-Gerald of Aurillac.

As a young man, he distinguished himself as a brilliant and dedicated scholar, and the abbot began searching for a way to help the young monk further his studies. When Count Borrell II of Barcelona visited the monastery in 967, the abbot saw a golden opportunity and asked the count to take Gerbert back with him so the young monk could further his study of mathematics in Catalonia, where increased contact with the Islamic world via the Caliphate of Córdoba had given rise to centers of Arabic learning. The count agreed, and Gerbert received instruction in Arabic language and scholarship in Barcelona, Seville, and Córdoba. His intellectual curiosity helped him to take advantage of the flourishing culture of the Islamic Golden Age.

The Islamic Golden Age was a period of remarkable cultural, economic, and scientific development, traditionally dated from the eighth century to the fourteenth. The decision of the Abbasid caliphs to shift the capital of the Islamic world from Damascus to Baghdad in 762 CE turned that city into a global center of education, scholarship, and culture. The establishment of higher learning institutions, including the famous House of Wisdom in Baghdad, along with numerous libraries and observatories, facilitated the growth of knowledge. These institutions not only preserved and translated Greek and Roman texts, which might otherwise have been lost to time, but also produced new works that added to the global body of knowledge. Thanks to the investment of Islamic leaders in education and the arts, Arabic-speaking scholars achieved significant advancements in various disciplines, including art, literature, philosophy, astronomy, chemistry, medicine, technology, and physics. These scholars built on and expanded the knowledge inherited from ancient civilizations such as Greece, Rome, Persia, Egypt, and India. They then engaged in a high degree of cultural exchange between diverse peoples under Islamic rule, including Christians, Jews, Hindus, and others. This multicultural environment helped to transmit this new knowledge across continents. Innovations such as the astrolabe, refined surgical instruments, windmills, and water clocks were developed or significantly improved during this era. These devices and techniques spread worldwide, profoundly influencing technological advancement in other cultures and laying the groundwork for various modern sciences and disciplines. Here in the Iberian Peninsula, a humble monk like Gerbert could study mathematics, astronomy, and mechanics, all of which were far more advanced in Islamic lands than in the European kingdoms.

Returning to France, Gerbert applied his knowledge at the cathedral school of Reims, where he became renowned as a teacher of mathematics and the liberal arts. His scholarly pursuits included introducing the abacus and Hindu-Arabic numerals to Western Europe, innovations that significantly advanced European mathematics. Before adopting the Hindu-Arabic numeral system, Europe primarily used Roman numerals, which were cumbersome for complex calculations. The Hindu-Arabic numeral system, including the concept of zero, allowed for more straightforward and faster arithmetic operations. This system simplified calculations, making them more accessible and quicker to perform, which was especially beneficial in commerce, astronomy, and other scientific pursuits. The abacus, an ancient tool used for arithmetic, was adapted and improved during this period. It provided a tactile, visual way to perform and understand calculations, which was crucial for education and trade. The abacus helped merchants, traders, and scholars perform calculations more efficiently and accurately, aiding the spread of more sophisticated commercial practices across Europe. In addition to his interest in mathematics, Gerbert was also an avid builder of astronomical instruments and mechanical clocks, embedding his scientific knowledge within the practical needs of his time.

Gerbert’s intellectual career eventually led him to Rome, where he was elected Pope Sylvester II in 999. In his new position as the head of the Christian church in the west, he continued to advocate for the importance of scientific learning, a stance that was atypical among his contemporaries. His papacy, which lasted until 1003, was marked by efforts to strengthen the educational foundations of the Church and to promote reform through knowledge. Even though only a few of his scholarly writings are extant, they contribute significantly to our understanding of the scientific advancements of the early Middle Ages. They reflect a blend of Christian doctrine and scientific inquiry, illustrating the harmonious relationship he sought to maintain between faith and reason. Sylvester II’s legacy is multifaceted—while he was a spiritual leader, his lasting impact arguably lies in his promotion of a scientific worldview within the medieval Christian context. For Pope Sylvester II and his church, the understanding of mathematics and science was itself a religious goal. God had created the universe in mathematical perfection. Humankind’s duty was to come to understand the degree of that perfection.

Science and Magic
Before the advent of Hindu-Arabic numerals and the abacus in Europe, numbers could be expressed and calculated by signs made by the hands and fingers. The Venerable Bede, a fellow monk from Northumbria, England, described this manner of finger counting in his 725 book, On the Reckoning of Time, writing: “When you say one, bend the left little finger and touch the middle line of the palm with it. When you say two, bend the third finger to the same place. When you say three, bend the middle finger in the same way. When you say four, raise the little finger. When you say five, raise the third finger. When you say six, raise the middle finger and bend the third finger down to the middle of the palm. When you say seven, touch the base of the palm with the little finger and hold up all the other fingers. When you say eight, bend the third finger in the same way. When you say nine, bend the shameless finger in the same way.” Introducing the abacus as a calculator meant that those using arithmetic no longer had to perform these kinds of digital gymnastics. One extant abacus claimed to be a copy after Sylvester II’s writings contains the inscription, “Gerbert gave the Latin world the numbers and the figures of the abacus.”

In addition to introducing the abacus and Hindu-Arabic numerals to Western Europe, Pope Sylvester II also introduced the concept of zero, which was revolutionary for European mathematics. Zero represents nullity or the absence of quantity, playing a critical role as a placeholder in positional value systems and providing consistent algebraic rules for addition, subtraction, and multiplication. This also has profound philosophical implications about the nature of nothingness and the universe, giving rise to additional concepts like void and infinity.

Pope Sylvester II’s contributions were not limited to mathematics and astronomy. He also wrote about the use of astrolabes, intricate instruments used to observe the positions of the stars and planets. These tools did not just aid in astronomical studies but were also instrumental in navigating the Church’s calendar and liturgical schedule. His contributions extended to the development and construction of mechanical clocks, where he integrated advanced knowledge of physics and mechanics into new ways of thinking about time. Some sources suggest that Sylvester II’s interest in mathematics extended to music theory, contributing to the broader medieval understanding of music as a mathematical discipline. His continued writings on philosophical and theological questions laid the groundwork for the later Scholastic philosophers and theologians.

So innovative and new were the ideas and technologies Sylvester II brought to Europe that his ability to use these instruments, which seemed to harness the mysteries of the heavens and numbers, may have appeared magical or otherworldly to those who did not understand the underlying science. In early medieval Europe, attitudes toward magic were generally marked by suspicion, condemnation, and regulation, largely influenced by the Church's efforts to establish and maintain Christian orthodoxy. This period was also characterized by a complex interplay between pagan traditions and Christian norms.

As a dominant force in early medieval Europe, the Church actively worked to suppress what it considered pagan practices, including various forms of magic. Magic was often seen as a manifestation of pagan idolatry or as deriving from demonic sources, which conflicted with Christian teachings. Following this, rulers closely aligned with ecclesiastical power incorporated anti-magic sentiments into their legal codes. These laws often prescribed penalties for those engaging in what was perceived as sorcery or witchcraft, reflecting a legal approach to curbing these practices. Shortly after the reign of Pope Sylvester II, Burchard of Worms would write his treatise against paganism entitled The Corrector, claiming “If you have kept the pagan tradition that fathers have always, even today, bequeathed to their children—as if by hereditary right, at the Devil’s service—traditions whereby you worship the elements, meaning the moon, the sun, the path of the stars, the new moon or the moon eclipsed, so that you could restore her brilliance by shouting and helping her, whether those elements assist you or you them, or if you have watched the new moon to build a house or join people in marriage: if you have done these things, you shall do penance for two years through the required periods of fasting because scripture says, ‘all that you do in word and deed, do it all in the name of our Lord, Jesus Christ…’” Note that Burchard’s worry is not that these practices have any actual magical effects. The heresy, in this case, lies simply in the belief in magic.

Despite these efforts, many pagan practices persisted covertly or were syncretized into folk Christianity. Rural populations maintained various traditional beliefs and rituals that the Church might label magical. The persistence of these practices often led to repeated condemnations in Church councils and synods. Among the intellectual elite, there was some interest in pre-Christian writings on natural philosophy and the hidden properties of natural objects, which could sometimes blur the lines between science, magic, and medicine.

The Pope and the Devil
Advanced knowledge of the kind that Pope Sylvester II had mastered, especially knowledge borrowed from or influenced by non-Christian cultures, was could often be misconstrued as sorcery. Because Gerbert of Aurillac’s rise to the papacy was so swift and unlikely for someone of his background, some of his contemporaries and later chroniclers speculated that he used supernatural means to achieve his high position in the Church. After his death, legends circulated that Gerbert had been a sorcerer who learned necromancy and made a pact with a demon or the devil. These stories were likely fueled by his association with the mysterious and his implementation of unfamiliar technologies.

In the early twelfth century William of Malmsbury wrote his history of the kings of England, titled the Gesta Regum Anglorum, and included a biography of Sylvester II, writing “Born in Gaul, from a lad he grew up a monk at Flory; afterwards, when he arrived at the double path of Pythagoras, either disgusted at a monastic life or seized by lust of glory, he fled by night into Spain, chiefly designing to learn astrology and other sciences of that description from the Saracens… As the Christians esteem Toledo, so do they hold Hispalis, which in common they call Seville, to be the capital of the kingdom; there practising divinations and incantations, after the usual mode of that nation. Gerbert then, as I have related, coming among these people, satisfied his desires. There he surpassed Ptolemy with the astrolabe…; there he learned what the singing and the flight of birds portended; there he acquired the art of calling up spirits from hell: in short, whatever, hurtful or salutary, human curiosity has discovered. There is no necessity to speak of his progress in the lawful sciences of arithmetic and astronomy, music and geometry, which he imbibed so thoroughly as to show they were beneath his talents…”

William then tells the story of Gerbert stealing a forbidden book from his Muslim mentor, who pursued him. William writes “Gerbert, then quickening his pace, arrived at the sea-coast. Here, by his incantations, he called up the devil, and made an agreement with him to be under his dominion for ever, if he would defend him from the Saracen, who was again pursuing, and transport him to the opposite coast: this was accordingly done.” Since the devil’s assistance had proved so effective in this instance, William credits Gerbert’s election to the papacy to the devil’s intervention, “Otho, emperor of Italy after his father, made Gerbert archbishop of Ravenna, and finally Roman pontiff. He followed up his fortune so successfully by the assistance of the devil, that he left nothing unexecuted which he had once conceived.”

Finally, William concludes his account of Sylvester II’s life and reign as pope by telling the story of Gerbert of Aurillac creating the head of a statue that, when the stars and planets were aligned correctly, would speak the truth. When Gerbert asked, “Will I be pope?” the statue replied, “Yes.” He reportedly then asked the statue if he would die before singing mass at Jerusalem. The statued said, “No.” Hearing this and having been elected Pope Sylvester II, Gerbert decided that he would never travel to Jerusalem and therefore put off his own death. However, William writes, there was a church in Rome called Santa Croce in Gerusalemme (“Holy Cross of Jerusalem“) where the pope sang mass. As William tells it, “Upon one of those days Gerbert, preparing himself for mass, was suddenly struck with sickness; which increased so that he took to his bed: and consulting his statue, he became convinced of his delusion and of his approaching death.”

Conclusion
William’s account of Gerbert of Aurillac’s rise and fall demonstrates a sophisticated understanding of Pope Sylvester II’s scientific, astrological, and mechanical achievements. However, the papacy in Sylvester II’s time was not nearly as powerful an institution as it would be in later generations. The critical polemicists writing about Sylvester as a corrupt pope who used his scientific knowledge and diabolical connections to achieve his worldly desires probably owe more to the general suspicions around non-Christian philosophical and scientific writings in medieval Christian Europe. Pope Sylvester II’s role as a bridge between Islamic and Christian scholars, and his efforts to disseminate scientific knowledge throughout Europe, underscore his unique position in history as a scholar-pope who not only led the Church but also sowed the early seeds for the Renaissance that would flourish centuries later. His tenure as pope is a testament to the vibrant intercultural exchanges of the Middle Ages, and his career highlights early medieval Europe’s global connections and complex tapestry of religious, scientific, and cultural interactions.

For medieval scholars like Sylvester, mathematical and scientific study were not antithetical to Christian worship. On the contrary, these scholars and scientists considered their work to be a form of prayer in itself. To better understand the mathematical perfection of the universe was to grow closer to understanding its creator. It’s this attempt to come to understand the ineffable through mathematics that Dante has in mind when he wrote the last few stanzas of his Divine Comedy. Dante’s famous Pilgrim attempts to understand his vision of God through geometric metaphors and relates:

As the geometer intently seeks
 to square the circle, but he cannot reach,
 through thought on thought, the principle he needs,

so I searched that strange sight: I wished to see
 the way in which our human effigy
 suited the circle and found place in it—

and my own wings were far too weak for that.
 But then my mind was struck by light that flashed
 and, with this light, received what it had asked.

Outro
If you enjoyed this episode, you can subscribe to Enchanted wherever you listen. This episode was produced by me with original music by Purple Planet. You can find them at purple dash planet dot com. If you want to learn more about Pope Sylvester II, be sure to check out the sources link in the show notes, especially Nancy Brown’s The Abacus and the Cross: The Story of the Pope Who Brought the Light of Science to the Dark Ages. Special thanks to Enchanted’s Patreon patrons for supporting the production of this and every episode. If you want to support Enchanted, please visit patreon dot com slash enchantedpodcast. If you’re looking for a way to support the show that won’t cost you anything, you can always give Enchanted: The History of Magic & Witchcraft a five-star rating on Apple Podcasts, Podchaser, Audible, or wherever you listen and recommend it to your friends. You can get in touch with me via email at enchantedpodcast at gmail dot com or follow on Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr at enchantedpodcast. As always, for more information and special features, visit enchantedpodcast dot net. I’m Corinne Wieben. Thank you for listening and stay enchanted.