13. Ibid., pages 201–202.
14. Freeman, Op. cit., page 321.
15. Richard E. Rubenstein, Aristotle’s Children: How Christians, Muslims, and Jews Rediscovered Ancient Wisdom and Illuminated the Dark Ages, New York and London: Harcourt, 2003, pages 77–78.
16. Freeman, Op. cit., page 325.
17. Ibid., page 327.
18. Ibid., pages 322–323.
19. Vogt, Op. cit., page 202. Moynahan, Op. cit., page 101.
20. Freeman, Op. cit., page 323.
21. Ibid.
22. Vogt, Op. cit., page 203.
23. Casson, Op. cit., page 139.
24. Ibid., page 140.
25. Reynolds and Wilson, Op. cit., page 53.
26. Ibid.
27. Ibid., page 59. See also: Michael Angold, Byzantium: The Bridge from Antiquity to the Middle Ages, London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2001, pages 138–139, for the schools of Constantinople.
28. Nigel Wilson, Scholars of Byzantium, London: Duckworth, 1983, page 50.
29. Ibid., page 51.
30. Ibid.
31. Colish, Op. cit., page 43.
32. Cantor, Op. cit., page 82.
33. Colish, Op. cit., page 43.
34. Ibid., page 48.
35. Cantor, Op. cit., page 82. Angold, Op. cit., page 98.
36. Colish, Op. cit., page 51. Charles Freeman, personal communication, 30 June 2004.
37. Gernet, A History of Chinese Civilisation, Op. cit., page 288. See also below, Chapter 12, note 47.
38. Reynolds and Wilson, Op. cit., page 63.
39. Ibid., page 65.
40. Ibid., page 66. Bischoff, Op. cit., page 183.
41. Reynolds and Wilson, Op. cit., page 67. Angold, Op. cit., pages 89–90, for the survival of some manuscripts.
42. Reynolds and Wilson, Op. cit., page 68.
43. Ibid., page 61. Angold, Op. cit., page 124, for the role of Bardas. See Bischoff, Op. cit., pages 97, 150ff, 170 and 176 for abbreviations.
44. Reynolds and Wilson, Op. cit., page 60.
45. Warren T. Treadgold, The Nature of the Bibliotheca of Photius, Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, Center for Byzantine Studies, Trustees for Harvard University, 1980, page 4. See Angold, Op. cit., page 124, for a perspective on Photius.
46. Cyril Mango, Byzantium, London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1980, page 62.
47. Ibid., pages 71–72.
48. Ibid., page 80. See also Angold, Op. cit., page 70. Moynahan, Op. cit., page 96, says there were 4,388 buildings of ‘architectural merit’ in the city’s heyday.
49. Lawrence Nees, Early Medieval Art, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002, page 31.
50. Mango, Op. cit., page 258. For Diocletian, see: John Beckwith, Early Christian and Byzantine Art, London: Penguin, 1970/1979, page 14.
51. Mango, Op. cit. See also: Moynahan, Op. cit., page 96.
52. Mango, Op. cit., page 259.
53. Nees, Op. cit., page 52. David Talbot Rice, Byzantine Art, London: Penguin Books, 1935/1062, page 84, considers Ravenna superior to Rome. For purple codices, see Beckwith, Op. cit., pages 42–43.
54. Mango, Op. cit., page 261. Angold, Op. cit., pages 35f, for imperial themes in Christian art.
55. Nees, Op. cit., page 52. Dominic Janes, Gold and Gold in Late Antiquity, Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press, 1998.
56. A word here about Christian art in books. The development of the codex, between the second and the fourth centuries, was, as we have seen, at least partly associated with the rise of Christianity, the codex being harder to forge than the scroll. The earliest illustrated biblical manuscript is that known as the Quedlinburg Itala, a much-damaged version of the book of Samuel. No less a person than Jerome himself, the creator of the Vulgate, criticised the production of luxuriously illustrated books, suggesting they were a new phenomenon. The Quedlinburg Itala had illustrations with loosely-painted atmospheric backdrops, and with shadows on the ground, each scene being painted in a small square frame. There was nothing like this in antiquity, says Lawrence Nees (except illustrated parchment codices of Homer and Virgil), which suggests that these illustrated books were central to Christian society and probably helped it become even more a religion of the book. Nees, Op. cit., pages 94–96.
57. Ibid., page 141. Beckwith, Op. cit., page 59, for Justinian.
58. Ibid., page 142. See Talbot Rice, Op. cit., page 147, for the ‘golden ages’ of Byzantine art, and page 149 for the schools of icon painting. Beckwith, Op. cit., pages 125–126.
59. Nees, Op. cit., page 143.
60. Mango, Op. cit., page 264.
61. Nees, Op. cit., page 146. Moynahan, Op. cit., pages 210ff; Angold, Op. cit., pages 70ff; Talbot Rice, Op. cit., pages 22ff. Beckwith, Op. cit., page 168.
62. Cantor, Op. cit., page 173. Moynahan, Op. cit., page 211. Beckwith, Op. cit., page 169.
63. Nees, Op. cit., page 149.
64. Beckwith, Op. cit., pages 151 and 158. Nor should we overlook the fact that the iconoclasts did not object to the use of human figures in non-Christian art. Cyril Mango says that the Milion arch in Constantinople, for example, marked the start of a great road that crossed the entire Balkans. This arch was dominated by an elaborate sculpture of the emperor’s favourite charioteer. No one thought of attacking this. Mango, Op. cit., page 266.
65. Ibid., page 267. See Moynahan, Op. cit., page 211, for how the iconodules were themselves mocked.
66. Mango, Op. cit., pages 271–272. See Talbot Rice, Op. cit., page 151, for painting techniques. Beckwith, Op. cit., page 191.
67. Mango, Op. cit., page 278, for the ‘intense aura’. See Angold, Op. cit., for a similar interpretation. Beckwith, Op. cit., page 346.
CHAPTER 12: FALSAFAH AND AL-JABR IN BAGHDAD AND TOLEDO
1. Philip K. Hitti, A History of the Arabs, London: Macmillan, 1970, page 90.
2. Ibid., page 25.
3. Ibid.
4. Ibid., page 91.
5. In fact, in certain circumstances it was more. The Arabian poet, the shaʾir, was understood to be privy to secret knowledge, not all of which was good and some of which might come from demons. As a result, the eloquent poet could bring misfortune on the enemy at the same time that he inspired his own tribe to valour. Even in peacetime he had a role, Philip Hitti says, as a sceptic to subvert the ‘claims and aims’ of demagogues. See Angold, Op. cit., page 60, for the place of poetry in Arab society.