C.S.

Lewis ‒ The Discarded Image (1964)

Selected Passages

1. “What both examples illustrate is the overwhelmingly bookish or clerkly character of

medieval culture. When we speak of the Middle Ages as the ages of authority we are usually
thinking about the authority of the Church. But they were the age not only of her authority,
but of authorities. If their culture is regarded as a response to environment, then the elements
in that environment to which it responded most vigorously were manuscripts. Every writer,
if he possibly can, bases himself on an earlier writer, follows an auctour: preferably a Latin
one. This is one of the things that differentiate the period almost equally from savagery and
from our modern civilisation. In a savage community you absorb your culture, in part
unconsciously, from participation in the immemorial pattern of behaviour, and in part by
word of mouth, from the old men of the tribe. In our own society most knowledge depends,
in the last resort, on observation. But the Middle Ages depended predominantly on books.
Though literacy was of course far rarer then than now, reading was in one way a more
important ingredient of the total culture” (5).

2. “At his most characteristic, medieval man was not a dreamer nor a wanderer. He was an
organiser, a codifier, a builder of systems. He wanted ‘a place for everything and
everything in the right place’. Distinction, definition, tabulation were his delight. Though full
of turbulent activities, he was equally full of the impulse to formalise them. War was (in
intention) formalised by the art of heraldry and the rules of chivalry; sexual passion (in
intention), by an elaborate code of love. Highly original and soaring philosophical
speculation squeezes itself into a rigid dialectical pattern copied from Aristotle. Studies like
Law and Moral Theology, which demand the ordering of very diverse particulars, especially
flourish. Every way in which a poet can write (including some in which he had much better
not) is classified in the Arts of Rhetoric. There was nothing which medieval people liked
better, or did better, than sorting out and tidying up. Of all our modern inventions I suspect
that they would most have admired the card index.
This impulse is equally at work in what seem to us their silliest pedantries and in their most
sublime achievements. In the latter we see the tranquil, indefatigable, exultant energy of
passionately systematic minds bringing huge masses of heterogeneous material into unity.
The perfect examples are the Summa of Aquinas and Dante's Divine Comedy; as unified and
ordered as the Parthenon or the Oedipus Rex, as crowded and varied as a London terminus
on a bank holiday.
But there is a third work which we can, I think, set beside these two. This is the medieval
synthesis itself, the whole organisation of their theology, science, and history into a
single, complex, harmonious mental Model of the Universe. The building of this Model
is conditioned by two factors I have already mentioned: the essentially bookish
character of their culture, and their intense love of system” (10-11).

3. “All the apparent contradictions must be harmonised. A Model must be built which will
get everything in without a clash; and it can do this only by becoming intricate, by mediating
its unity through a great, and finely ordered, multiplicity. This task, I believe, the Medievals
would in any case have undertaken. But they had a further inducement in the fact that it had
already been begun, and indeed carried a fair way. In the last age of antiquity many
writers-some of them will meet us in a later chapter-were, perhaps half-consciously,
gathering together and harmonising views of very different origin: building a
syncretistic Model not only out of Platonic, Aristotelian, and Stoical, but out of Pagan
and Christian elements. This Model the Middle Ages adopted and perfected” (11-12).

4. “One particular class of experts, the great spiritual writers, ignore the Model almost
completely. We need to know something about the Model if we are to read Chaucer, but we
can neglect it when we are reading St Bernard or The Scale of Perfection or the Imitation.
This is partly because the spiritual books are entirely practical like medical books. A
man concerned about the state of his soul will not usually be much helped by thinking about
the spheres or the structure of the atom” (18).

5. “The spirit of this scheme [the heavenly hierarchies], though not every detail, is strongly
present in the Medieval Model. And if the reader will suspend his disbelief and exercise his
imagination upon it even for a few minutes, I think he will become aware of the vast re-
adjustment involved in a perceptive reading of the old poets. He will find his whole attitude
to the universe inverted. In modern, that is, in evolutionary, thought Man stands at the
top of a stair whose foot is lost in obscurity; in this, he stands at the bottom of a stair
whose top is invisible with light. He will also understand that something besides individual
genius (that, of course) helped to give Dante's angels their unrivalled majesty” (74-75).