Poetry and Philosophy in the Middle Ages: A Festschrift for Peter Dronke

POETRY AND PHILOSOPHY IN THE MIDDLE AGES

MITTELLATEINISGHE STUDIEN UND TEXTE HERAUSGEGEBEN VON

PAUL GERHARD SCHMIDT

BAND XXIX

POETRY AND PHILOSOPHY IN THE MIDDLE AGES A FESTSCHRIFT FOR PETER DRONKE

EDITED BY

JOHN MARENBON

BRILL LEIDEN • BOSTON • KOLN 2001

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Die Deutsche Bibliothek - CIP-Einheitsaufnahme Poetry and philosophy in the middle ages / ed. by John Marenbon. Leiden ; Boston ; Koln : Brill, 2000 (Mittellateinische Studien und Texte ; Bd. 29) ISBN 90-04-11964-7

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is also available

ISSN 0076-9754 ISBN 9004119647 © Copyright 2001 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy itemsfor internal or personal use is granted by Brill provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910 DanversMA01923,USA. Fees are subject to change. PRINTED IN THE NETHERLANDS

CONTENTS List of Illustrations List of Abbreviations Preface Peter Dronke and Medieval Latin at Cambridge John Marenbon An Annotated List of Works by Peter Dronke bearing on the Relation between Poetry and Philosophy in the Middle Ages John Marenbon Uodalscalc-Studien IV: Mikrokosmos und Makrokosmos bei Uodalscalc von St. Ulrich und Afra (1124—um 1150) (Augsburg, Archiv des Bistums 78, fol. 72 r ) Walter Berschin Learned Knowledge of Arabic Poetry, Rhymed Prose, and Didactic Verse from Petrus Alfonsi to Petrarch Charles Burnett Alcuin, Carmen ix and Hrabanus, Ad Bonosum: a Teacher and his Pupil write Consolation Mary Garrison Cratylus Mediaevalis—Ontology and Polysemy in Medieval Platonism (to ca. 1200) Stephen Gersh Some Quantitative Poems Attributed to Columbanus of Bobbio Michael W. Herren Msifortinus: le disciple qui corrige le maitre

Edouard Jeauneau II Liber viginti quattuor philosophorum nei poemi medievali: il Roman de la Rose, il Granum sinapis, la Divina Commedia Paolo Lucentini Peter Abelard and the Poets David Luscombe

vii viii ix

1

7

19

29

63

79

99

113

131 155

VI

CONTENTS

God and the Goddesses: Vision, Poetry, and Belief in the Middle Ages Barbara Newman Amor transformat amantem in amatum. Bernhard von Waging an Nicolaus Cusanus iiber die Vision einer reformunwilligen Nonne Paul Gerhardt Schmidt Illustrated Manuscripts of Petrarch's De Remediis Utriusque Fortunae J.B. Trapp Dichter und Philosophen—zwei zankende Geschwister Benedikt Konrad Vollmann Leda and the Swan: the Unbearable Matter of Bliss Marina Warner Originality in Medieval Latin Literature Hayo Westra The Highest Form of Compliment: Imitatio in Medieval Latin Culture Jan ^iolkowski Jean de Meun and the Castration of Saturn Jill Mann On the Text and Interpretation of Abelard's Planctus Giovanni Orlandi Una Scheda Per Ildegarde Di Bingen Claudia Leonardi Dante's Averroism John Marenbon

173

197

217 251 263 281

293 309 327 343 349

List of Contributors

375

Indices Index of Names and Places Peter Dronke and his Writings Index of Manuscripts

379 390 391

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Frontispiece: Peter Dronke, c. 1971 Plate 1: (for Berschin, 'Uodalscalc'):

MS Augsburg, Archiv des Bistums, 78, f. 72r

Plate 2: (for Trapp, 'Illustrated Manuscripts'): 'Petrarch' writing De remediis utriusquefartunae. Initial to Jean Daudin's French translation, MS Paris, Bibliotheque de 1'Arsenal, 2860, f. 5v, XVXVI century. Plate 3: (for Trapp, 'Illustrated Manuscripts'): Jean Pichore, Fortune and her wheel, with Prosperite, Joye, Esperaunce, Crainte and Douleur. Frontispiece to anon. French translation of De remediis utriusque fortunae, MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale,fr. 225,f.l,c. 1503. Plate 4: (for Warner, 'Leda'): C. Bos, Leda and the Swan (London, British Library)

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS

CCCM CCSL CSEL MGH PG PL

Corpus Christianorum. Continuatio Mediaevalis Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum Monumenta Germaniae Historica J-"P- Migne, Patrologia Graeca J.-P. Migne, Patrologia Latina

PREFACE

About three years ago, it struck me that no one had yet planned a volume to commemorate Peter Dronke's retirement from his Cambridge chair in 2001. On reflection, this general oversight did not seem at all surprising. Nothing in Peter Dronke's appearance, or manner, or pattern of work suggests a person who has nearly reached the retiring age. He seems to be at full flight, in the middle of a remarkably productive career: is not a commemorative volume for him premature? I put this question to myself, but I thought that it was still appropriate to honour Peter on his retirement with a rather special sort of Festschrift: a book which would not attempt to cover all of his many areas of interest in medieval literature, but concentrate on a particular theme related in a close way to his Cambridge teaching.

X

PREFACE

The theme chosen was the relationship between poetry and philosophy in the Middle Ages. To many, the Middle Ages seem a time when this relationship was very distant: they think, on the one hand, of philosophers such as Aquinas, Duns Scotus and Ockham, whose manner of writing is technical and dry, with little care for literary effect; and on the other hand, of the famous vernacular poets whose world was apparently that of the court rather the university. A look at almost any part of Dronke's work shows up the narrowness of such an attitude. The Middle Ages abound, not only in poetphilosophers (such as Eriugena and Abelard) and philosopher-poets (such as Dante), but also in writing which lies on the indistinct borderland between philosophical and poetic reflection, such as Boethius' De consolatione philosophiae, Bernardus Silvestris' Cosmographia and many of the writings of Hildegard of Bingen and Alan of Lille. It is to works such as these that Dronke has returned again and again (see the annotated list of his writings on the relationship between poetry and philosophy, below, pp. 7-17), and they have been at the centre of the varied and wide-ranging Medieval Latin courses he has taught in Cambridge for over thirty years. For this reason, the topic seemed especially appropriate for a Festschrift designed to commemorate Peter Dronke's activity as a teacher and scholar at Cambridge. Contributors were therefore asked to make this aspect of Dronke's work their guiding point in choosing a subject, taking the topic of the relationship between medieval philosophy and poetry in a broad sense, so as to include in its range the work of philosopher-poets, and poet-philosophers, poetry with learned, philosophical and quasi-philosophical elements and philosophical reflection on medieval poetry. Had I sollicited essays from all of Peter's many academic friends and admirers across the world, this collection would have run into a number of volumes. Instead, I restricted the project mainly to those who had a special Cambridge connection with Peter, as his pupils or colleagues here, now or in the past, or as frequent visitors to the town, and those whose work fitted especially well with the theme of the volume. Perhaps the many friends and colleagues of Peter's who were not involved in this volume will take the opportunity it leaves them to compile another Festschrift for him, at a later occasion, linked to a different aspect of his work.

PREFACE

XI

I should like to express my great gratitude to Peter's wife, Ursula, for help and encouragement with this volume, especially in providing biographical details and in supplying the happy photograph for the frontispiece. I should also like warmly to thank Loes Schouten for the intelligence, care and patience which she has shown throughout preparing this volume. Trinity College, Cambridge, June 2000

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PETER DRONKE AND MEDIEVAL LATIN AT CAMBRIDGE John Marenbon

Peter Dronke was born in Cologne in 1934. His father, himself a judge, belonged to a very distinguished legal family. His mother was a well-known actress. His father's uncompromising opposition to Nazism and his mother's Jewish ancestry made Germany unsafe for them, and in 1939 the Dronkes settled in New Zealand. It was here, in Wellington, that Peter Dronke went to school and then university. He gained his BA in 1953, and his MA the next year. In 1955, as recipient of a New Zealand travelling scholarship, he returned to Europe, taking up a place at Magdalen College, Oxford, as a student of English. Before he continued his Oxford career as a research fellow at Merton College, Dronke spent the academic year 1957 8 on an Italian government scholarship studying in Rome (and the scholarship was renewed for two long study visits in 1959). Besides reading manuscripts in the Vatican Library, Dronke met and talked frequently to Bruno Nardi, the great scholar of Dante and medieval philosophy. This friendship would continue until Nardi's death in 1968 and be one of the shaping influences on Dronke's work as a medievalist.l Although Dronke's interests were already centred on Medieval Latin literature and its many links with the vernacular, there seemed little possibility that he would be able to devote himself to this subject in a university teaching career—at least not in England. There were not here the Chairs in Medieval Latin which had been instituted in a number of continental universities, and Dronke might have expected to have had to content himself with a job teaching medieval English at one of the Oxford colleges. But, in the academic year 1960-61, Cambridge University advertised a lectureship in Medieval Latin. Dronke applied. Weeks went by without any news, and Dronke imagined that he was not even going to be called to 1

[References to writings by P.D. are to the numbers in the List given in the 'Annotated List' (below, pp. 7-17]. See 58, Introduction.

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JOHN MARENBON

interview. As it turned out, however, he was given the post and so, in October 1961, he began his 40-year Cambridge teaching career. 1961 was also the year of his marriage to Ursula Brown, a fellow medievalist who would be Reader in Old Norse at Oxford University. Dronke became a Fellow of Clare Hall (a newly founded college, for graduates, visiting scholars and resident fellows) in 1964, but— as is the case for most Cambridge University teachers outside the popular undergraduate subjects—his principal attachment was to his faculty (Modern and Medieval Languages) and rather than to a college. The University recognized Dronke's growing academic eminence by the award of a personal Readership in 1979 and a personal Chair, in Medieval Latin Literature, in 1989. (These positions were given to him, it should be added, at a time when, unlike now, there was not a general policy of making such promotions where appropriate; they were made only in cases of very exceptional merit.) Outside the University, too, Dronke has been widely recognized: he became a Fellow of the British Academy in 1984 and has been made a corresponding Fellow of various academies abroad including, most recently (1999), the Medieval Academy of America. Through the years he has travelled very widely as invited speaker at conferences, guest lecturer and visiting professor. So, for example, in 1975 (a busy year of travels even by his standards!) he gave invited lectures at the Universities of Iceland, Oslo, Bergen, Calcutta and Wellington; other years found him lecturing or speaking in Munich, Poitiers, Gottingen, Boston, Glasgow, Barcelona, Rome, Perugia, Canberra, New York, Goteborg, Florence and Toronto. Nearer home, he was Visiting Professor of Medieval Studies at Westfield College, University of London, from 1982-86. In lectures and conferences in France, Germany, Spain and Italy, Dronke would delight his colleagues by an ability to give papers and ask and answer questions both in the language of the host country and, in most cases, the language of whoever else was delivering a paper or asking a question. Although not someone who would seek out administrative tasks by choice, Dronke was co-organizer of an International conference on Hildegard of Bingen at the Warburg Institute, London in 1995,2 and of the very large Third International Medieval Latin Congress, which took place in Cambridge in September 1998.3 2

3

See 56. The proceedings are forthcoming, under the editorship of Michael Herren.

PETER DRONKE AND MEDIEVAL LATIN AT CAMBRIDGE

5

Near the beginning of his Inaugural Lecture, as Professor at Cambridge, Dronke comments that, when he arrived at Cambridge, Medieval Latin 'had already begun to be cultivated' by Frederick Raby and Frederick Brittain. But he goes on to observe that 'Raby came to medieval Latin poetry from history, Brittain from Romance languages. A formation in medieval Latin literature, such as a number of Continental universities could offer, was unknown at the Cambridge—or the England—of their youth.'4 These remarks are perhaps a little self-effacingly over-generous to his predecessors, for the achievement of making Medieval Latin into a fully-fledged, specialized, professionally-taught subject within Cambridge is almost entirely Dronke's own. 'A formation in medieval Latin literature' a la Dronke is something very special indeed—it might more accurately be called 'a formation through medieval Latin in medieval literature and thought'. It is not easy to generalize about the contents of Dronke's teaching. Dronke is at the very opposite extreme from those lecturers who are all too happy, having established a syllabus, to return year after year to their yellowing lecture notes. Each year, the set-texts—a large variety—have changed, partly to reflect the different areas of Dronke's own interests, so that his lectures have always communicated the excitement of a scholar engaged in new and exciting researches. Some of his teaching has been devoted to the more obviously literary Medieval Latin texts—poems from the Cambridge Songs and the Carmina Burana, the plays of Hrotsvitha, the poetry of Walter of Chatillon and Peter of Blois, Waltharius and Ruodlieb. But what has especially characterized his conception of Medieval Latin is the high proportion of philosophical and semi-philosophical texts he has taught—texts in the borderland region between medieval philosophy and poetry to which the present volume is devoted. Augustine's Confessiones and Boethius' De consolatione philosophiae have been mainstays of his syllabuses; they have also often featured Eriugena's Penphyseon, Abelard's Historia calamitatum, the Abelard-Heloise letters, Bernardus Silvestris' Cosmographia, works by Hildegard of Bingen and Alan of Lille, and have included writing by Siger of Brabant and Boethius of Dacia.

4

44, p. 2 = Intellectuals [cf. Abbreviations, below, p. 7], p. 220.

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JOHN MARENBON

To follow Dronke's courses, as I did as an undergraduate in 1975-6, was suddenly to be transported from the nursery atmosphere of most medieval lectures (one of the few exceptions were the Insular Latin courses taught by Dronke's friend and colleague, Michael Lapidge) to a grown-up world of medieval scholarship. The works which figured merely as names or references in the footnotes of the standard guides to medieval literature, and as asides in most lectures, ceased to be obscure, venerable and dull background presences: they were brought vividly to life by teaching which, through its excitement and commitment, encouraged students to meet the high demands it made. Dronke paid his pupils the enormous compliment of assuming that they shared both his driving interest in medieval thought and writing and, at least to some extent, his linguistic abilities. One was expected to read widely and carefully, studying primary works in Latin and in a range of the medieval vernaculars, and consulting secondary works in the major modern European languages. One was also expected to be able to exercise independent literary and historical judgement, and to be able to think for oneself. It is hard to imagine an attitude to teaching so much at odds with the standardized and mediocre norm which anti-intellectual governments and their bureaucrats, with the connivance of many in academe, are now trying to establish; or so firmly in line with the pedagogic traditions of which Cambridge should take pride, and so well devised to stimulate and form life-long medievalists. Despite the length of his teaching career, Dronke's manner of teaching has not become dulled or depersonalized. I asked his most recent research student, Stephen D'Evelyn (an American working on the lyrics of Hildegard of Bingen), to record his impression of Dronke's lectures and supervisions:— I first met Professor Dronke when I attended his lectures on 'The Woman's Voice in Late Antique and Early Christian Texts'. He stood in front of the class, perhaps with some notes, but what was amazing is how he just talked to us about literature, not so much as students but as people, and his earnestness was somehow at the same time easy-going. He passed around books—often his own books—to show us important articles or pictures of manuscripts. He has always made his students aware of controversies and current issues in medieval scholarship, and given us a sense of what can be done and what needs doing. A few weeks later, as I was beginning to get my research project off the ground, I ran into Professor Dronke at the University Library.

PETER DRONKE AND MEDIEVAL LATIN AT CAMBRIDGE

3

I was wearing a t-shirt with a design of Celtic interlace on the front, and the first thing Professor Dronke said was, 'What a wonderful t-shirt!' As my research has continued to develop, he has helped me focus on the growing-tips of ideas. When I have met with Professor Dronke at his home to discuss my work, often as we are talking he will take a book from a shelf in his study or living-room and show me a passage that answers my question or leads me to a better question. Professor Dronke's warmth and openness are inspiring, and his understanding and articulation of understanding raise the level of inquiry from appearance to the union of the art and the essence of things.

The retirement of a figure such as Peter Dronke is always a sadness for the institution where he or she has taught for many years. In Dronke's case, there is a double reason for sadness. His faculty seems set not to refill his post. Medieval Latin will cease to be a proper subject in the University, represented by someone teaching, supervising research and championing the interests of the discipline. Just as in the bad old days, students will no longer be able to receive 'a formation in medieval Latin literature'. There is one view of Medieval Latin according to which this turn of events, although unwelcome, is nothing out of order. According to this view, Medieval Latin is just another, minor language (indeed, the official place of Medieval Latin in the MML Faculty, in the strangely named 'Department of Other Languages', alongside Dutch, Modern Greek and Hungarian, seems to support the idea). Proponents of this view consider that, since Medieval Latin has now become less popular than the medieval vernaculars, because few language students have studied Latin at school, it should give up its place in the University. Few readers of the present volume will have much sympathy for such a view. Besides, even a glance at Peter Dronke's work as a scholar and a teacher shows why the view is misguided. Reading his books and articles and, even more, studying with him, is to learn about writing and ideas which were central to medieval literature, thought and imagination. He has shown how Medieval Latin literature—in the very broad sense he has given it—is the key to understanding the world of medieval ideas. The present volume is a small tribute to him. Peter Dronke's many friends and admirers in universities throughout the world would pay him an even greater tribute could they persuade his own university that the intellectual legacy he leaves should not be lightly abandoned.

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AN ANNOTATED LIST OF WORKS BY PETER DRONKE BEARING ON THE RELATION BETWEEN POETRY AND PHILOSOPHY IN THE MIDDLE AGES John Marenbon

This list is designed to provide a guide to Peter Dronke's work in the area on which these commemorative essays specially concentrate. Readers will, indeed, notice that many of the works listed below are cited and discussed in the essays which follow. The items catalogued here represent rather less than half of all Dronke's academic writings. Apart from his widely-used The Medieval Lyric^ most of what is not listed will be found in the four collections of his articles (see below, Abbreviations). The criteria for inclusion in the list below have been deliberately lax: I have tried to include all Dronke's writings, not just on Dante (even where their main point is not especially philosophical), but also on Hildegard of Bingen, since Dronke is very keen to illustrate her philosophical background, and her writing is always poetic, if not formally verse. I have also included the few pieces which Dronke has written on purely philosophical matters, since his interest in imagery and literary form is never far away. The brief annotations are intended to comment on the relevance of each item to the central theme of poetry and its relation to philosophy, and so they give a very partial glimpse of the contents of some of Dronke's books.

Abbreviations Medieval Poet P. Dronke, The Medieval Poet and his World, Rome, 1984, Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, Studi e Testi 164 Intellectuals P. Dronke,, Intellectuals and Poets in Medieval Europe, Rome, 1992, Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, Studi e Testi 183

1

Originally published London, 1968; the latest (3rd, revised and enlarged) edition is published Cambridge, 1996.

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Inspiration

P. Dronke, Sources of Inspiration. Studies in Literary Transformations, 400-1500, Rome, 1997, Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, Studi e Testi 196 Latin and Vernacular Poets P. Dronke, Latin and Vernacular Poets of the Middle Ages, Aldershot and Brookfield, Vermont, 1991 MA Medium Aevum MJ Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch SM Studi Medievali, 3a serie 1. Review of TTie Parlement of Foules, ed. D. Brewer, Notes and Queries 206 (1961), 475-76 [Criticizes Brewer for failing to recognize that Venus is portrayed as Venus caelestis, following the tradition of Apuleius, Martianus Capella, Remigius of Auxerre and Alan of Lille.] 2. Review of Nicolai Treveti Expositio Herculis Furentis, ed. V. Ussani, MA 30 (1961), 191-95 [Includes discussion of the letter to Can Grande della Scala, often attributed to Dante.] 3. Medieval Latin and the Rise of European Love-Lyric, 2 vols, Oxford, 1965-6—2nd ed., with revisions and additions, 2 vols, Oxford, 1968 [Chapter 2, 'The Background of Ideas' (I, pp. 57-97) is a very wide-ranging discussion of the intellectual background to what P.D. calls 'the courtly experience': it considers mystic writers, Hildegard of Bingen, Arab and Latin Aristotelians on the intellect (including Albert the Great and Siger of Brabant), William of Conches, Augustine, Origen and Dante.] 4. 'L'amor che move il sole e I'altre stelle', SM 6 (1965), 389-422 = Medieval Poet, pp. 439-75 [Traces the history of two conceptions of love behind this and the preceding lines of the Paradiso: a Boethian conception of love as an outgoing force, and an Aristotelian one of love as a final cause, which moves other things by their desire for it.] 5. Review of C. Leonardi, / codici di Mariano Capella, MA 35 (1965), 50 52

PETER DRONKE'S WRITINGS

9

6. 'Chaucer and Boethius' De Musicd, Notes and Queries 211 (1966), 92-93 = Inspiration, pp. 157-59 (with an added note) [On the irony of Chaucer's reference to De musica in the Nun's Priest's Tale (B4484)] 7. 'Boethius, Alanus and Dante', Romanische Forschungen 78 (1966), 119-25 = Medieval Poet, pp. 431-38 [Background to Dante's letargo at Paradiso XXXIII, 1. 94; cf. 51] 8. Review of Alain de Lille. Textes inedits, ed. M.-T. d'Alverny, New Blackfriars 47 (1966) 613-14 9. Review of P. Courcelle, La Consolation de Philosophic dans la tradition litteraire, Speculum 44 (1969), 123-8 - reprinted with revisions in Boethius, ed. M. Fuhrman and J. Gruber, Darmstadt, 1984, pp. 436-43 [Argues for Boethius' direct use of Plato.] 10. 'The Composition of Hildegard of Bingen's Symphonic?, Sacris Erudin 19 (1969-70), 381-93 [Comparison of manuscripts of the Symphonia] 11. 'Dante's Earthly Paradise. Towards an Interpretation of Purgatorio XXVIIF, Romanische Forschungen 82 (1970), 467-87 = Medieval Poet, pp. 387-405 [Discusses the background to Dante's idea of an earthly paradise and argues against a solely allegorical interpretation of Matelda.] 12. 'New Approaches to the School of Chartres', Anuario de Estudios Medievales 6 (1969 [1971]), 117-40 = Intellectuals, pp. 15-40 (with a new postscript) [Defence of the importance of twelfth-century Chartrian thinkers, especially Thierry of Chartres and William of Conches—a reply to Sir Richard Southern] 13. Poetic Individuality in the Middle Ages. New Departures in Poetry 1000-1150, Oxford, 1970 - Spanish translation (La individualidad poetica en la Edad Media], Madrid, 1981

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- 2nd (English) ed, enlarged, London, 1986, Westfield Publications in Medieval Studies 1 [Chapter 4, pp. 14-49, is a detailed discussion of Peter Abelard's planctus.] 14. 'The Lament ofjephtha's Daughter. Themes, Traditions, Originality [written with M. Alexiou], SM 12 (1971), 819-63 = Medieval Poet, pp. 345-88 [Section III discusses Peter Abelard's planctus for Jephthah's daughter] 15. 'Tradition and Innovation in Medieval Western Colour-Imagery', Eranos Jahrbuch 41 (1972), 51-107 = Medieval Poet, pp. 55-103 [Includes discussion of Pseudo-Dionysius, Gregory of Nyssa and, especially, Hildegard of Bingen.] 16. 'Medieval Rhetoric' in Literature and Western Civilisation II, ed. D. Daiches and A. Thorlby, London, 1973, pp. 315-45 = Medieval Poet, pp. 7-38 [A study of medieval aesthetic theories, including discussion of Augustine, Geoffrey of Vinsauf's Poetria nova and DanteJ 17. Fabula, Explorations into the Uses of Myth in Medieval Platonism, Leiden/Cologne, 1974 (Mittellateinische Studien und Texte 9) [Discusses William of Conches' theory of metaphor and interpretation as put forward in his commentary on Macrobius, and the way in which images and fables are used by a variety of medieval of medieval writers, including Abelard, Hildegard of Bingen, Bernardus Silvestris and Alan of Lille.] 18. 'Chaucer and the Medieval Latin Poets' [with a section by J. Mann] in Geoffrey Chaucer, ed. D. Brewer, London, 1974, pp. 154-83

[Includes discussion of Chaucer's use of Bernard Silvestris' Cosmographia, Alan of Lille's work and Geoffrey of Vinsauf's Poetria nova.] 19. 'William of Conches's Commentary on Martianus Capella' in Melanges E.-R. Labande. Etudes de civilisation medievale, Poitiers, 1974, pp. 223-35

PETER DRONKE'S WRITINGS

11

- reprinted in revised form in 17, Appendix, pp. 166-83 [Identifies a commentary on Martianus Capella in MS Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale, Conv. Soppr., 1.1.28 as being influenced by a lost commentary on this work by William of Conches.] 20. 'Eine Theorie iiber Fabula und Imago im zwolften Jahrhundert' in Verbum et Signum. Festschrift Friedrich Ohly, II, Munich, 1975, pp. 161-76 [Deals more briefly with the material by William of Conches discussed in 17, Chapter 1.] 21. 'Francesca and Helo'ise', Comparative Literature 26 (1975), 113—35 = Medieval Poet, pp. 359-85 [Argues that Jean de Meun's presentation of Heloise in the Roman de la Rose played a part in how Dante chose to present Francesca in Inferno V.] 22. 'Orizzonte che rischiari. Notes towards the Interpretation of Paradiso XIV, Romance Philology 29 (1975-76), 1-19 = Medieval Poet, pp. 407-30 [Dante's sympathy towards the ideas of two thinkers, Joachim of Fiore and Siger of Brabant, who many thought were heretics during their lifetime; their influence on the images he uses in this canto.] 23. Abelard and Heloise in Medieval Testimonies., Glasgow, 1976 = Intellectuals, pp. 247-94 [A survey and critical discussion of medieval accounts of Abelard and Heloise; provides evidence for the authenticity of the Historia Calamitatum and the personal letters.] 24. 'Theologia veluti quaedam poetria. Quelques observations sur la fonction des images poetiques chez Jean Scot' in Jean Scot Erigene et rhistoire de la philosophic, Paris, 1977, pp. 243-52 = Medieval Poet, pp. 39-53 [On how, through imagery such as that of shadows, Eriugena's 'theological and poetic intentions are united in a striking way'.] 25. Edition of Bernardus Silvestris, Cosmographia, Leiden, 1978 [Based on MS Oxford, Bodleian Laud misc. 515, controlled

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against 7 other manuscripts. Includes long introduction, a detailed abstract, textual and explanatory notes, and indices.] 26. Review of Peter Abelard's Hymnarius Paraclitensis, ed. J. Szoverffy, MJ 13 (1978), 308-11 [Important critical comments and suggestions for improvements] 27. 'The Procession in Dante's Purgatorio\ Deutsches Dante Jahrbuch 53/54 (1978/79), 18-45 = Latin and Vernacular Poets, Item XIII - reprinted with abridgements in Cambridge Readings in Dante's Comedy, ed. K. Foster and P. Boyde, Cambridge, 1981, pp. 114-37 [Argues that the procession in Purgatorio XXIX should not be interpreted in terms of fixed allegorical equivalences: 'images take on a life of their own in the contexture of Dante's vision.'] 28. 'Heloise's Problemata and Letters. Some Questions of Form and Content' in Petrus Abaelardus, ed. R. Thomas, Trier, 1980 (Trierer Theologische Studien 38) = Intellectuals, pp. 295-322 [Argues for authenticity of Heloise's letters to Abelard on stylistic grounds, considers the personal elements in the Problemata Heloissae and places Heloise within a tradition of medieval women who cultivate a conscientia which is 'a developed inner cognizance'.] 29. 'Bernard Silvestris, Natura and Personification', Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 43 (1980), 53—73 — intellectuals, pp. 41—61 [How Bernard's personification of Natura should be regarded; includes extended discussion of relationship between Bernard's goddesses and Eriugena's theophanies.] 30. 'Arbor Caritatis'1 in Medieval Studies for J. A. W. Bennett, ed. P. Heyworth, Oxford, 1981 = Intellectuals, pp. 103-41 [Wide-ranging survey of tradition of symbolic trees (as represented most famously in Middle English by Langland's Tree of Charity), including discussion of Hildegard of Bingen (an extract from the Scivias is edited in an appendix) and Ramon Llull] 31. 'Problemata Hildegardiana', MJ 16 (1981), 97-131 = Intellectuals, pp. 143-91 [On the text and sources of Hildegard's Scivias, and on unpublished writing by Hildegard in MS Berlin, Lat. Qu. 674]

PETER DRONKE'S WRITINGS

13

32. 'Abaelardiana' [with sections by J. Benton and E. Pellegrin], Archives d'histoire doctrinak et litteraire du Moyen Age 49 (1982), 273-91 [Edits poems—edited already in part in 23—linked to the story of Abelard and Heloise in MS Orleans, Bibliotheque Municipale 284 (238).] 33. Review of Guillaume de Conches. Glosae in luvenalem, ed. B. Wilson, MA 52 (1983), 146-9 34. Women Writers of the Middle Ages. A Critical Study of Texts from Perpetua (f 203) to Marguerite Porete (f 1310), Cambridge, 1984 - Italian translation (Donne e cultura nel Medioevo}, Milan, 1986 - Spanish translation (Escritoras de la Edad Media), Barcelona, 1995 [Chapter 5, pp. 107-43, studies Heloise's writing and thought, with especial attention to her third letter (on female monasticism) and the Problemata. There is further defence (cf. 23 and 28) of the authenticity of the personal letters and of Heloise's genuine authorship of her third letter. Chapter 6, pp. 144-201, is about Hildegard of Bingen.] 35. 'Bernardo Silvestre' in Enciclopedia Virgiliana I, Rome, 1985, pp. 497-500 [On the commentary on Aeneid, Books 1-6, which P.D. attributes (with some reservations) to Bernard.] 36. 'Integumenta Virgilii' in Lectures medievales de Virgile, Rome, 1985 (Collection de 1'Ecole Francaise de Rome 80), pp. 313-29 = Intellectuals, pp. 63-78 [Twelfth-century philosophical interpretations of the Aeneid, especially by William of Conches and Abelard] 37. 'La creazione degli animali' in L'Uomo di fronte al mondo animale nell'alto medioevo, Spoleto, 1985 (Settimani di studio del centre italiano di studi sull'alto medioevo 31), pp. 809-48 = Intellectuals, pp. 193-217 [Contains a lengthy discussion of Eriugena, Periphyseon III.] 38. Dante and Medieval Latin Traditions, Cambridge, 1986 - Italian translation (Dante e le tradizioni latine medioevali}, Bologna, 1990

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JOHN MARENBON

[Among other things, this book studies medieval aesthetics in order to vindicate the historical accuracy of a reading of the Commedia which is flexible and imaginative, rather than rigidly allegorical; disputes attribution to Dante of letter to Can Grande; and discusses Dante's presentation of Boethius and Siger of Brabant (pp. 96-102).] 39. A History of Twelfth Century Western Philosophy, Cambridge, 1988 (editor) [Chapters by 16 contributors, including P.D., on all aspects of twelfth-century philosophy; the chapter most concerned with linking poetry and philosophy is that by W. Wetherbee, 'Philosophy, Cosmology and the Twelfth-Century Renaissance'] 40. 'Thierry of Chartres' in 39, pp. 358-85 [Argues that 'Thierry's originality lay in combining an extreme Platonism . . . with a far-reaching naturalism.'] 41. Biobibliographies, in 39, pp. 443-57 [Brief accounts and bibliographies of the main twelfth-century thinkers] 42. 'L'Apocalisse negli ultimi canti del Purgatorio' in Dante e la Bibbia, ed. G. Barblan, Florence, 1988, pp. 81-94 = Inspiration, pp. 117-30 [On Dante's use of the Apocalypse of St John in the Purgatorio, including discussion of Dante's relation to Boethius and Alan of Lille, and to Richard of St Victor and Joachim of Fiore] 43. 'Symbolism and Structure in Paradiso XXX', Romance Philology 43 (1989), 29-48 = Latin and Vernacular Poets, Item XIV [Discusses relation of Dante to Boethius and Alan of Lille, especially with regard to 'paradoxes of divine presence'.] 44. Hermes and the Sibylls. Continuations and Creations, Inaugural Lecture, Cambridge, 1990 = Intellectuals, pp. 219-44 [Concentrates especially on the importance of Hermes and the Sibylls to twelfth-century thinkers such as Abelard and Alan of Lille, and on the twelfth-century pseudo-hermetic Liber XXIV philosophorum.]

PETER DRONKE'S WRITINGS

15

45. 'Eriugena's Earthly Paradise' in Begnff und Metapher. Sprachform des Denkens bei Eriugena, ed. W. Beierwaltes, Heidelberg, 1990 (Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften, Ahandlungen 1990), pp. 213-29 [Discusses Eriugena's attitude to non-literal biblical interpretation and to metaphor; considers his discussion of paradise and suggests possible relationships to Bernard Silvestris' Cosmographia and Gottfried of Strassburg's Tristan.] 46. 'Las cidades sinbolicas de Hildegarda de Bingen' in La simbolica do espafo, ed. Y. Centeno and L. de Freitas, Lisbon, 1991, pp. 29-42 - expanded, English version: 'The Symbolic Cities of Hildegard of Bingen', The Journal of Medieval Latin 1 (1991), 168-83 47. 'Platonic-Christian Allegories the Homilies of Hildegard of Bingen' on From Athens to Chartres. Neoplatonism & Medieval Thought. Studies in Honour of Edouard Jeauneau, ed. H. Westra, Leiden/New York/ Cologne, 1992, pp. 381-96 = Inspiration, pp. 61-81 [On the allegories in Hildegard's Expositio Evangeliorum, and the background to their language and ideas—especially those influenced by the Christian Platonic tradition of Origen and Ambrose] 48. 'Heloise, Abelard, and Some Recent Discussions' in Intellectuals, pp. 323—42 (not previously published) [Critique of arguments, especially those of Hubert Silvestre, purporting to show that the Abelard—Heloise correspondence is not authentic; discussion of Janson's investigation into cursus in the correspondence—P.D. argues that a study of cursus does not point to a single author for the whole collection] 49. Verse with Prose: from Petronius to Dante. The Art and Scope of the Mixed Form, Cambridge, Mass./London, 1994 [Among the prosimetra discussed are Martianus Capella's De nuptiis, Boethius' De consolatione philosophiae, Methodius' Symposium and Dante's Vita Nuova] 50. Nine Medieval Latin Plays, Cambridge, 1994 (Cambridge Medieval Latin Classics 1) [Includes, pp. 147-84, Hildegard of Bingen's Ordo uirtutum, which

16

JOHN MARENBON

is edited, translated in parallel, and provided with an introduction and brief explanatory notes.] 51. 'The Conclusion of Dante's Commedia', Italian Studies (1994), 21-39 = Inspiration, pp. 131—55 [Close reading of Paradiso 33; includes detailed discussion of relation of Dante's writing here to Boethius and to Alan of Lille, as well as to Virgil; cf. 7] 52. 'Medieval Sibyls: their Character and their Auctoritas', SM 36 (1995), 581-65 [Medieval discussions of Sibylls and versions of Sibylline prophecies] 53. Edition of Hildegard of Bingen, Liber divinorum operum, (with A. Derolez), Turnhout, 1996 (CCCM 120) [Critical edition, including appartus of sources and an extensive, discursive introduction] 54. Dante's Second Love. The Originality and Contexts of the Convivio, Leeds, 1997 (The Society for Italian Studies, Occasional Papers 2) [Studies both the Neoplatonic (the Liber de causis, the Hermetic Asclepius and Boethius' De consolatione philosophiae) and Aristotelian (Albert the Great, Aquinas, Siger of Brabant and Boethius of Dacia) context of the Convivio; argues against the views according to which, in the fourth book of the Convivio, or in the Commedia, Dante turns against what he now considers to have been his excessive devotion to philosophy.] 55. 'Sibylla-Hildegardis: Hildegard von Bingen und die Rolle der Sibyle' in Hildegard von Bingen, Prophetin durch die ^eiten, ed. E. Forster (Freiburg/Basel/Vienna, 1997), pp. 109-18 56. Hildegard of Bingen. The Context of her Thought and Art, ed. (with C. Burnett), London, 1998 (Warburg Institute Colloquia 4) [Proceedings of a major conference on Hildegard, which bring together the papers of 12 contributors; see 59 for P.D.'s own contribution.] 57. Growth of Literature: the Sea and the God of the Sea, Cambridge, 1998 (H. M. Chadwick Memorial Lectures 8) (with U. Dronke)

PETER DRONKE'S WRITINGS

17

[Contains a long discussion of the interpretation and background of Eriugena's unusual use of sea imagery at Periphyseon I, 743C744A] 58. Etienne Gilson's Letters to Bruno Nardi, Florence, 1998 (SISMEL Carte e Carteggi 1) [Edition of twelve letters which Gilson wrote to Nardi between 1937 and 1961, in which Gilson shows his admiration for Nardi's work and discusses the question of Dante's Averroism; P.D. also provides an introduction which is a both vivid and affectionate memoir of his own conversations with Nardi, and a sketch of Nardi's outlook and achievement.] 59. 'The Allegorical World-Picture of Hildegard of Bingen. Revaluations and New Problems' in 56, pp. 1—16 [Analyses the workings of some of Hildegard's allegories and explores her relation to learned sources.] 60. 'Hildegard's Inventions. Aspects of her Language and Imagery' in Hildegard von Bingen in ihrem historischen Umfeld, ed. A. Haverkamp, Mainz, 2000, pp. 299-320 [On Hildegard's invented words and the view of the universe they suggest]

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UODALSCALC-STUDIEN IV: MIKROKOSMOS UND MAKROKOSMOS BEI UODALSCALC VON ST. ULRICH UND AFRA (1124-UM 1150) (AUGSBURG, ARCHIV DES BISTUMS 78, FOL. 72R) Walter Berschin

Eine der Faszinationen des abendlandischen XII. Jahrhunderts besteht in der Fiille der Gestalten, Menschenbilder und Weltentwiirfe. Sie sind oft gegensatzlicher Natur und gewifj auch verschiedener Statur. Der Abt Uodalscalc von St. Ulrich und Afra (1124—um 1150) gehort nicht zu den ganz GroBen seiner Epoche;1 aber er ist mit seiner vielseitigen Begabung so etwas wie ein Uorno universale gewesen und hat als erster der Reichsabtei mit den Grabern der romischen Martyrin Afra und des ottonischen Bischofs Ulrich zu einer kiinstlerischen Ausstrahlung verholfen. Seine sichtbarsten Werke waren fur mehrere Jahrhunderte die Bildprogramme der Wandmalereien, Fastentiicher und Wandteppiche, mit denen er den romanischen Klosterkomplex geschmuckt hatte.2 Spatestens am Ende des XV. Jahrhunderts, als die spatgotische Hallenkirche aufgerichtet wurde, die heute noch zusammen mit Dom und Rathaus das Stadtbild von Augsburg dominiert, und als auch die Klosterbauten erneuert wurden, sind diese Kunstwerke verschwunden. Die Geschichtsschreiber des Klosters3 haben sich bemiiht, wenigstens die Texte, mit denen der Abt Kirche und Kloster versehen hat, festzuhalten. Auf einem bislang nicht publizierten Blatt des 1 W. Berschin, Uodalscalc-Studien I (= Uodalscalcs Vita S. Kuonradi im hagiographischen Hausbuch der Abtei St. Ulrich und Afra), Freiburger Dio'zesan-Archiv 95, (1975), pp. 82-106. Id., Uodalscalc-Studien II (= Historia S. Kuonradi), ibid., pp. 107—128. Id., Uodalscalc-Studien III: Historia S. Uodalrici, in Tradition und Wertung, (Festschrift Franz Brunholzl) (Sigmaringen 1989), pp. 155-164. Eine vorlaufige Zusammenfassung ist erschienen in Die deutsche Literatur des Mittelalters. Verfasserlexikon X 1999, col. 109-113. 2 C. Lehmann-Brockhaus, Schriftquellen zur Kunstgeschichte des 11. und 12. Jahrhunderts jur Deutschland, Lothringen und Italien (Berlin 1938), Personenregister s.v. Udalscalcus, bes. nr. 2575sqq. U. Kuder, Das Fastentuch des Abtes Udalscalc mit Ulrichs- und Afraszenen, in pinxit/sculpsit/fecit, (Festschrift Bruno Bushart) (Berlin 1994), pp. 9-23. 3 Allen voran der Friihhumanist Sigismund Meisterlin (f um 1497), cf. P. Joachimsohn, Die humanistische Geschichtsschreibung in Deutschland I, (Bonn 1895), p. 126sqq.

20

WALTER BERSCHIN

Catalogus abbatum monasterii S. Udalrici et Afrae Augustensis* von Wilhelm Wittwer (1449-1512) ist ausnahmsweise nicht nur ein Text Uodalscalcs, sondern auch das dazugehorige Bildprogramm skizzenhaft iiberliefert. Es handelt sich um fol. 72 der Handschrift5 Augsburg, Archiv des Bistums 78. Die entsprechende Partie des Papiercodex wurde von dem Monch Wilhelm Wittwer6 im Jahr 1494 geschrieben;7 die Schrift des hier zu diskutierenden Blattes 72 stammt aber nicht von seiner Hand.8 Wittwer war sich wohl bewuBt, daB seine schwere gotische Bastarda-Schrift9 nicht geeignet war, das filigrane Bild der UodalscalcKomposition wiederzugeben und hat deshalb einen Schreiber mit zierlicherer Hand gebeten, diese Arbeit fur sein Buch zu leisten.10 Die Bildelemente auf dem 21,8 X 15,5 cm messenden Papierblatt sind zwei vertikal angeordnete Kreisfiguren, eine groBere und eine kleinere. Vier Tondi mit Kopfprofilen blasender Winde sind beschriftet11: Oriens Septentrio

Meridies Occidens

4 Ed. A. Steichele, Archiv fur die Geschichte des Bisthums Augsburg 3 (1860), p. 15-437. Unser Blatt 72 ist aus der Edition ausgenommen. Es ist kurz erwahnt bei N. Biihler, Die Schriftsteller und Schreiber des Benediktinerstiftes St. Ulrich und Afra in Augsburg wdhrend des Mittelalters, Diss. Miinchen (gedruckt Borna-Leipzig 1916), p. 21, n. 2. 5 Alte Signaturen St. Ulrich und Afra E 78; olim 8 b 3. Ausfuhrlich beschrieben und paraphrasiert von dem letzten Bibliothekar der Abtei St. Ulrich und Afra P. Braun, Notitia Historico-Literaria de codicibus manuscriptis in bibliotheca Liberi ac Imperialis Monasterii ad SS. Udalricum et A/ram III (Augsburg 1793), pp. 1-34; kurz notiert bei B. Kraft, Die Handschriften der Bischoflichen Ordinariatsbibliothek in Augsburg, (Augsburg 1934), p. 92. 6 Uber diesen schreibfreudigen Monch zuletzt N. Horberg, Libri Sanctae Afrae (Gottingen 1983), p. 173 sqq. 7 Die Datierung der einzelnen Partien des Catalogus auf die Jahre 1493 bis 1497 ergibt sich aus den aktuellen Jahreszahlen, die Wittwer immer wieder eingestreut hat, z.B. ed. Steichele, pp. 45 und 62. Ubersichtliche Darstellung der Zeitverhaltnisse bei P. Joachimsohn, %wr stddtischen und klosterlichen Geschichtschreibung Augsburgs im ftinfzehnten Jahrhundert (Bonn 1894), p. 35. 8 Das Blatt ist nicht nachtraglich eingefiigt, sondern gehort von Anfang an zum Codex. Dr. Rolf Schmidt in Augsburg hat den Sachverhalt nochmals gepriift: unser fol. 72 ist das vierte Blatt der alten Lage d. 9 Eine Abbildung der Schrift Wilhelm Wittwers findet sich (unerkannt) bei A. M. Albareda, L'abat Oliba, jundador de Montserrat, (Montserrat, 2. Auflage 1972), tab. 11 (= Augsburg, Staats- und Stadtbibliothek 4°218, fol. 5r). 10 Ich mochte die Vermutung auBern, daB dieser Schreiber identisch ist mit demjenigen, der in gotischer Minuskel die Vita S. Uodalrici in Augsburg, Staats- und Stadtbibliothek 4°218, fol. 16r~51r, imjahr 1494 geschrieben hat, cf. W. B./A. Hase, Gerhard von Augsburg, Vita S. Uodalrici (Heidelberg 1993), pp. 41-43. 1 ' Statt Septentrio schreibt der hier und an anderen Stellen sorglose Kopist Septembtrio.

MIKROKOSMOS UND MAKROKOSMOS BEI UODALSCALC

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Augsburg, Archiv des Bistums Ms. 78, fol. 72r, geschrieben und gezeichnet nach einer Vorlage aus dem XII. Jahrhundert a. 1494 von einem Monch von St. Ulrich und Afra fur die Abtchronik von Wilhelm Wittwer. Papier, originale GroBe 21,8 x 15,5 cm. VerofFentlicht mit freundlicher Genehmigung des Archivs.

22

WALTER BERSGHIN

Sie machen klar, dafi der obere groBe Kreis den maior mundus der Welt darstellt, der untere den minor mundus des Menschen. Ein hexametrisches Tetrastichon iiber die zwolf Winde steht an der Spitze der Tafel12: Sunt Subsolanus, Vultumus et Eurus ab ortu, Circinus occasum, ^ephirus et Favonius affiant., Atque die medio Notus extant et Affricus, Auster, Proveniunt Aquilo, Boreas et Chorus ab alto.

Von den vier Windfiguren gehen jeweils drei Halbverse aus, die die einzelnen Winde charakterisieren. Die von den Ostwinden und den Nordwinden (linker Bildrand) gesprochenen Verse sind jeweils ein Hemiepes; die den Westwinden und den Siidwinden (rechter Bildrand) in den Mund gelegten stellen jeweils eine zweite Hexameterhalfte (nach der Penthemimeres) dar. Versuchsweise sei aus diesen Elementen ein hexametrisches Hexastichon hergestellt, wobei der als Sprecher fungierende Wind jeweils iiber der Zeile erscheint13: Subsolanus

Chorus

Flans nubes gigno.

Crebro fulmina iacto.

Eurus

Zephirus ,

Sub te, Phebe, tono.

Tellurem floribus orno.

Vulturnus

Favonius

Omnia desicco.

Sufflando

nubila pando.

Circius

Affricus

De me grando venit.

De me quoque terra calescit.

Boreas

Auster

Frigora conficio.

Pluvias cum flamine mitto.

Aquilo

Notus

Constringo nubes.

Magnos educo calores.

Bei den Ostwinden steht unter den Halbversen Inconuptio: Exaltare super celos

12 GroB- und Kleinschreibung sowie u/v sind hier und an den folgenden Stellen ausgeglichen. Die Merkverse sind (etwas abweichend) gedruckt bei S. de Renzi, Collectio Salernitana I, (Neapel 1852), p. 446. 13 In der Handschrift steht vers. 4 (der Edition) grande statt grando, zu vers. 6 Nothus (wie fast regelmaBig im Mittelalter) statt Notus. Wenn die Quelle dieser (von Uodalscalc verfaBten?) Wind-Charakteristiken Isidor, De natura rerum c. 37 (ed. J. Fontaine, Bordeaux 1960, p. 295sqq.) ist, dann miissen die Beischriften von Subsolanus und Eurus gegeneinander ausgetauscht werden.

MIKROKOSMOS UND MAKROKOSMOS BEI UODALSGALC

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iiber den Westwinden Anima: Simul rapiemur unter den Siidwinden Inmortalitas: Sic semper cum domino erimus iiber den Nordwinden Corpus: Renovabis faciem terre. Die Inschrift im groBen Kreisrund lautet14: Ordine celorum pensate gradus animorum. Qui thronus auctoris pro sorte parantur amoris. Hier wird, wenn wir die Stelle recht verstehen, die von Isidor v. Sevilla, De natura rerum, vertretene Himmelsvorstellung paraphrasiert: Es gibt mehrere Himmel oder Himmelszonen. In den oberen Himmeln hat Gott den «Kraften der geistlichen Geschopfe» ihren Platz angewiesen.15 Die oberste Zone des groBen Kreisbildes ist als Supremum celum bezeichnet und in dem ihn begrenzenden Halbkreisbogen interpretiert als Intellectuals celum interioris oculi. Er gehort zur Sphaera dei.}6 Unter ihr verlauft die waagrechte Linie des dritten Himmels mit der Inschrift Tertium celum corporee corrupcionis expoliacio et sancte trinitatis confessio. Der zweite Himmel ist der Durchmesser des groBen Kreises: Secundum celum virtutum consummacio et dei dilectio. 14 tronus statt thronus in der Hs.—Ubersetzungsversuch: «Erkennt in der Ordnung der Himmelszonen die Stufen der Geisteskrafte. Sie werden eingerichtet als Thron des Schopfers nach der Rangordnung der Liebe». 13 in eo virtutes spiritualium creaturarum constituit, Isidor, De natura rerum c. 13, ed. J. Fontaine, p. 225. 16 Hs. Spera. Unter Spera dei ist in einem anderen Bildprogramm des Uodalscalc eine Majestas domini, wie es scheint, zu verstehen: Hie pingatur spera dei, ed. A. Steichele, p. 104.

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WALTER BERSGHIN

Der erste Himmel schneidet waagrecht die untere Kreishalfte: Primum celum creatoris agnicio et proximi dikctio. Darunter erscheint der sichtbare Himmel bezeichnet als Aqueum celum duppliciter irriguum.17

Aus dieser Zone gelangt man mit Hilfe der sieben Gaben des Geistes (cf. Is 11,2sq.) senkrecht nach oben bis in den zweiten Himmel: Diametws septiformis spiritus, und in den dritten Himmel, wenn dazukommt et fidei temarius.™

Konzentrisch steht im groBen Himmelskreis ein kleinerer mit dem Inschriftenband: ^pdiacus duodecim apostolorum discursus. Igneum celum amoris intimi.19

In Form eines X laufen die Linien der Tag- und Nachtgleiche durch den maior mundus. Auch sie sind theologisch befrachtet: Solsticialis lima dux divine descensionis et ascensionis porta. Equinoctialis linea veteris et novi testamenti concordia.

Zwischen innerem und auBerem Weltenkreis bewegen sich sechs Planeten20: lupiter sive Pheton Saturnus alias Phenon Mars alias Pyrion Mercurius sive Stilbon Hesperus sive Vespertinus Phiriona alias Luna 17 Hs. irrigui. Die Vorstellung geht auf die biblische Schopfungsgeschichte zuriick: divisitque aquas, quae erant sub firmamento, ab his, quae erant super firmamentum (Gn 1, 7). Ambrosius, Hexaemeron II 2, 4sqq. diskutiert, wie man das verstehen konne. 18 Cf. Beda, Commentarii in pentateuchum Deut. c. 21, PL 91, 389: Ternario autem numero fides ostenditur. 19 Hs. interimi. Cf. Gregor d. GroBe, Homilia in evangelia XXX 5, ed. R. Etaix, (Turnhout 1999), p. 261: In dexter a ergo dei lex ignea est, quia electi. . . amoris intimi facibus inardescunt. 20 Quelle scheint hier Isidor v. Sevilla, Etymologiae III 71,20sq., zu sein. Statt Stilbon steht in der Hs. Stelbon, statt Phenon (Phaenon) plerion, statt Pyrion daphirion, statt Hesperus zoerius.

MIKROKOSMOS UND MAKROKOSMOS BEI UODALSCALC

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Die Sonne steht im Mittelpunkt und bildet mit Phetonia (?) und Phoebus ein Dreieck im Zentrum der Himmelswelt: Sol

Phetonia

Phoebus

Dazu gehort das hexametrische Planetengedicht links unten auf dem Blatt21: Octo sunt spere, quas sic poteris retinere: Luna stat in primo Mercuriusque secundo, Ac Venus in terno, Sol lucet orbe quaterno, Mars nitet in quinto, sed lupiter ordine sexto, Satumus celo septimo deftngitur alto, Octavo celo tibi stellas esse revelo.

Das Kreisbild des minor mundus tragt im Rahmen die auf Isidors von Sevilla De natura rerum22 verweisende Inschrift Rota nativitatis humane."23 Die acht lanzettfbrmigen Speichen des Rades Felder sind beschriftet: Naturak peccatum^ Personals peccatum Voluntarium peccatum Personalis voluntas Despoliacio nature Propago peccatrix Naturalis egestas Naturalis voluptas

21

Es handelt sich hier um eine (von Uodalscalc?) in leoninische Hexameter gebrachte Fassung von Isidor, De natura rerum c. 23, ed. J. Fontaine, pp. 257sqq. Vier Handschriften mit demselben Initium nennt H. Walther, Initia carminum ac versuum medii aevi posterioris latinorum (Gottingen 1959, Erganzungsband 1969), nr. 13136. Alle diese (Basel A. XI. 67. fol. 183v-184r, saec. XV, Braunschweig 151, fol. 144V, saec. XV, Frankfurt Earth. 136, fol. 365V, saec. XV, und Wien 1365, fol. 83V, saec. XIII) haben aber einen von Uodalscalc abweichenden Text: Octo sunt spere, quas sic poteris retinere:/Celum stellatum, Saturnus, lupiter et Mars,/Sol, Venus; has sequitur Mercurius, ultima Luna. 22 Fur das Buch, das sieben Kreisbilder (rotae) enthalt, ist seit dem VIII. Jahrhundert der Beiname Liber rotarum belegt. 23 Hs. natiuitates. 24 Uber den Unterschied von naturak peccatum und personals peccatum Odo v. Tournai (Cambrai), De peccato originali II, PL 160, 1085.

26

WALTER BERSCHIN

AuBen 1st das Rad begleitet von den Begriffen Natura Homo Masculus et

Persona Homo Femina

Diese Figur wird erlautert durch die folgenden rechts unten fortlaufend geschriebenen Hexameter, deren Verse 1—5 und 8 leoninisch gereimt sind. Vers 6 und 7 reimen untereinander und zwar sowohl in der Penthemimeres als auch am Ende (versus collaterales)23: Non duo sunt unum, licet efficiant sibi mum: Est homo nature proprium, persona sed Ade; Sed quia naturam persona tenet sibi iunctam, Max ut Adam peccat, hominis generate cruentat, 5 Damnat et infantes nature damna luentes. Sic persona ruit, quod agit perversa voluntas, Sed natura luit, quod agit virtutis egestas. Him homo nee surget, relevans deus hunc nisi purget. Der Mensch kann sich also aus diesem Kreislauf von ererbter («natiirlicher») und personlicher Schuld nur erheben, wenn Gott ihn reinigt und emportragt. Deshalb gehen der groBe Kreis und der kleine nicht ineinander iiber, sind nicht verzahnt, ja beriihren sich nicht einmal, weil ein Abstand bleibt zwischen Gotteswelt und Mensch. Er ist an den Stellen, wo die beiden Rader einander nahekommen, noch betont durch die Worte Sepulchrum corrupcionis

Fovea peccati.

Anders als seine um eine Generation jiingere Zeitgenossin Hildegard von Bingen, sieht Uodalscalc maior mundus und minor mundus nicht in eins; es ist bei ihm nicht so, daB es nur eines sehenden Auges bedarf, um den Kosmos im Menschen, den Menschen im Kosmos und den menschgewordenen Gott in beiden zu erblicken. Makrokosmos und Mikrokosmos im Weltbild Uodalscalcs getrennte Kreise. Am rechten Rand liest man die Sphragis des Kiinstlers Illam figuram composuit Uodalscalcus inclitus huius monasterii abbas quartus decimus,

25 Die Reimtechnik laBt sich mit der von Uodalscalc in De Eginone et Herimanno angewandten vergleichen, MGH Scriptores XII, p. 447sq.; cf. W. Meyer, Gesammelte Abhandlungen zur mittellateinischen Rythmik I, (Berlin 1905), p. 96.

MIKROKOSMOS UND MAKROKOSMOS BEI UODALSCALG

27

die auf Uodalscalc selbst zuriickgehen kann.26 Inwieweit das Werk als originell gelten darf und wie es sich in die Geschichte des philosophischen Nachdenkens liber das groBe Thema von Mikrokosmos und Makrokosmos einordnet, das wird noch vergleichender Arbeit bedlirfen. Hier ging es darum, den Entwurf bekanntzumachen und eine erste Sichtung der Form, des Inhalts und der Quellen zu versuchen. Niemandem kann dieser Versuch passender gewidmet werden als Peter Dronke, dem wir neben vielen erhellenden Studien zum Hohen Mittelalter die unentbehrliche History of Twelfth Century Western Philosophy verdanken.

26

Uodalscalc hat seine Arbeiten gern «signiert», cf. Uodalscalc-Studien I, p. 90 mit tab. 2.

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LEARNED KNOWLEDGE OF ARABIC POETRY, RHYMED PROSE, AND DIDACTIC VERSE FROM PETRUS ALFONSI TO PETRARCH1 Charles Burnett

'Est etiam' iuxta cuiusdam sapientis proverbium 'melior veritas, etsi difficulter adepta, quam error facile obvians'

Much has been written about the place of Arabic poetry in the literary history of Western Europe. Debate has focused in particular on the poetic genres of the zqjal and muwashshah which flourished in the Iberian peninsula, and the kharja, written in the vernacular or 'Low variety' of discourse, which served as an envoi to the muwashshah.;2 Peter Dronke has made valuable contributions to this debate.3 It is not my aim to carry this discussion further, or to become involved in the question of what effects Arabic poetry may have had on the development of Medieval European poetry in general.4 Rather, this article seeks to draw attention to the not insignificant number of Arabic texts of poetry (shi'r), rhymed prose (sqjc], and didactic verse that were known directly to Latin scholars in the Middle Ages, and to see what they made of these texts. 1 I am very grateful for the help of Frank Bezner, Roger Boase, Julia Bray, Luc Deitz, Michael Evans, Geert Jan van Gelder, Pat Harvey, Dag Nikolaus Hasse, Paul Kunitzsch, Derek Latham, Barry Taylor, Jo Trapp, Jane Whetnall, Fritz Zimmermann and Irene Zwiep. The opening motto comes from Hugo of Santalla's Liber Aristotilis (a translation of a non-extant Arabic astrological text, probably Masha'allah's Alkitdb al-murdi), II 17, 14, ed. D. Pingree and C. Burnett (London 1997), p. 29. 2 See The Kharjas: A Critical Bibliography, ed. R. Hitchcock (London 1977), with Supplement no. 1 by R. Hitchcock and C. Lopez-Morillas (London 1996), and D. Hanlon, 'A Sociolinguistic View of haz.1 in the Andalusian Arabic muwashshah'', Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 60 (1997) 35-46. 3 E.g., Medieval Latin and the Rise of European Love-Lyric (2 vols, Oxford 1968), I, pp. 26-32, 'Nuevas observaciones sobre las jaryas Mozarabes', El Crotalon 1 (1984) 99-114, The Medieval Lyric, 3rd ed. (London 1996), ch. 3, and 'Latin Songs in the Carmina Burana: Profane Love and Satire' (forthcoming, concerning the similarity of a quotation within the poem 'Veris dulcis in tempore' to a kharja). 4 On this question, see M. R. Menocal, The Arabic Role in Medieval Literary History:

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Hermann the German's Latin Anthology of Arabic Poetry

One of the most interesting revelations in recent years is the 'Latin anthology of Arabic poetry' that William Boggess extracted from Hermann the German's translation of Averroes's Middle Commentary on Aristotle's Poetics., known as the Poetria Aristotelis, made in Toledo in 1256.5 Averroes had replaced Aristotle's examples from Greek poetry with sixty-eight passages from Arabic poets. These included pre-Islamic poets (the 'Jahiliyya' poets, e.g., Ibn Zuhayr, Imru'u '1Qays and an-Nabigha), Umayyad poets (e.g., Dhu'r-Rumma, Qays al-Majnun b. cAmir and Layla al-Akhyaliyya), and 'Abbasid poets (e.g., al-Mutanabbf, who is the poet cited most frequently). Hermann omitted a few examples and made some substitutions, but in twentynine cases he translated the Arabic poetry into Latin prose, and in a further fourteen cases he attempted a poetic translation. Boggess observes that the prose renderings of the Arabic poetic fragments show the same verbum de verbo style as the rest of Hermann's translation, but that the poetic renderings are considerably freer, especially in their 'liberal paraphrasing, inversion of word order and broad expansion'.6 One fragment is translated into a hexameter: nonne vides mortem? nulli scio parcere mortem.7

For the other translations Hermann provides rhymed lines with a varying number of syllables. One may take, as an example, his translation of a passage from a poem by Imru'u '1-Qays: . . . ut quod posuit de hoc in carmine suo Imrulkaysi poeta in colluctatione duorum amantium: Estuavi ad utendum ea more fluctuantis aque, dum maritum senseram obdormisse;

A Forgotten Heritage (Philadelphia 1987), and R. Boase, 'Arabic Influences on European Love-Poetry', in The Legacy of Muslim Spain, ed. S. K. Jayyusi (Leiden 1992), pp. 456-82. 3 W. F. Boggess, 'Hermannus Alemannus' Latin Anthology of Arabic Poetry', Journal of the American Oriental Society 88 (1968) 657-70. The text is edited in De arte poetica . . . accedunt Expositio media Avenois sive 'Poetria' Hermanno Alemanno interprete et specimina translations Petri Leonii, ed. L. Minio-Paluello, Aristoteles Latinus, XXXIII (2nd edition, Brussels and Paris 1968), pp. 41-74. 6 Boggess, 'Hermanns Alemannus' Latin Anthology', p. 669. 7 Ibid., p. 668; Poetria Aristotelis, ed. Minio-Paluello, p. 69. Arabic: Id ard 'l-mawta yasbiqu 'l-mawta shay'un ('I do not see anything that can forestall death').

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at ilia, cum susurrio recalcitrans, me, inquit, velles interisse non advertens vigiles nondum decubuisse? cui ergo: vexor incendio quod vellem extinxisse.8 The most intricate rhyme scheme is used in his translation of another fragment from Imru'u '1-Qays:9 . . . dixerunt quidam de poemate Omrilkaisi quasi reprehendendo ipsum cum dixit: ac si non ascendissem unquam causa solacii equum, aut non tenuissem puellam ornatam monilibus mecum; et ac si numquam dolium plenum vini meracissimi salutassem, et equos post multos recursus iterum ad cursum non incitassem.

I Boggess compares some of these renderings with examples found in Medieval Latin poetry.10 He admits, however, that only the rhymeschemes, and not the metre, can be compared. In fact, closer examples can be found in the Latin rhymed prose that would have been familiar to Hermann from the writings of Anselm of Canterbury, Bernard of Clairvaux, Peter the Venerable, Peter Abelard, and the rhymed offices of his own day.11 The Arabs too used rhymed prose (saj'}

in contexts that will be discussed below, but rhyme was also

the most conspicuous element (for Latin readers) of Arabic poetry.

8 Poetria Aristotelis, ed. Minio-Paluello, p. 62. C. H. L. Bodenham, 'Petrarch and the Poetry of the Arabs', Romanische Forschungen 94 (1982) 167-78 (see p. 175), points out what may be a felicitous translation by Hermann: 'estuavi' not only suggests a strong emotion (as in the opening of the Archpoet's 'Estuavi intrinsecus'), but also the 'seething' of the high tide. 9 Poetria Aristotelis, ed. Minio-Paluello, p. 70. 10 In the last example, Boggess compares the rhyme scheme to that of Eberhardus Alemannus' Laborintus: 'Hermannus Alemannus' Latin Anthology', p. 668. 11 Rhyme was one of the rhetorical figures (colons rhetorid) discussed by Antique and Medieval Latin writers; cf. Bede, De schematis et tropis sacrae scripturae, PL 90.178 = Rhetores Latini minores, ed. C. Halm (Leipzig 1863), p. 610: 'homoeoteleuton, similis terminatio dicitur figura quoties media et postrema versus sive sententiae [i.e., in a verse or a prose context] simili syllaba finiuntur'; cf. E. Norden, Die antike Kunstprosa, 2 vols (Berlin 1918) pp. 760-3, 866-79. See also J. Martin, 'Classicism and Style in Latin Literature', in Renaissance and Renewal in the Twelfth Century, ed. R. L. Benson and G. Constable (Oxford 1982), pp. 537-68 (pp. 541-3 discuss the rhetorical 'epistolary prose' of Peter the Venerable); for Abelard see D. R. Hewlett, 'Some Criteria for Editing Abelard', Archwum Latinitatis MediiAevi5\ (1992-3) 195-202; for rhymed offices see A. Hughes, Medieval Music: The Sixth Liberal Art (Toronto 1974; index s.v. 'rhymed office').

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these are what are known amongst the Arabs as 'cords' (asbdb} and 'pegs' (awtad}^ and among the Greeks as 'syllables' and 'feet'; 3 then the Investigation concerning the lengths of the verses and hemistichs and by how many letters and syllables (maqtac) each verse (bayt) is completed in each metre; 4 then it distinguishes the perfect metres from the deficient and which metres are more comely and beautiful and more enjoyable to listen to. 5 The second part is the consideration of the ends of the verses in each metre: whether they end with them [i.e. the Arabs] in a single way or in several ways, and which of them is complete, which superabundant, which diminished, and which ends with one letter alone kept throughout the whole poem (shi'r), and which of them with more than one letter kept in the poem (qasidd), and how many is the greatest number of letters that can form the ends of the verses with them.17 6 Then it teaches, in the case of those which have more than one letter, whether it is allowable or not for some letters to be substituted with others equal to them in time of articulation (of these it is allowable for them to exchange them with letters equal in time). 7 The third part Investigates which expressions that are unsuitable for use in non-poetic discourse (qawl) are (to be) regarded as suitable for use in poetry.

In Gerard of Cremona's literal translation this passage appears as follows:18 1 Et scientie quidem canonum versuum secundum modum qui convenit scientie lingue tres sunt partes, quarum una comprehendit pondera usitata in versibus eorum, simplicia sint pondera sive composita, 2 deinde comprehendit compositionem lltterarum almuagemati (in the margin: id est alfabet) ex unaquaque specie quarum pervenit unumquodque ponderum eorum et sunt que dicuntur apud Arabes cause et radices, et apud Grecos cesure et pedes. 3 Deinde inquirit de quantitatibus versuum et imnorum et ex quantis litteris et cesuris completur metrum in unoquoque pondere; 4 deinde discernit pondera completa a diminutls et que pondera sunt pulcriora et meliora et delectabiliora ad audiendum.

16 Cf. W. Wright, A Grammar of the Arabic Language, 2 vols (3rd ed., Cambridge 1964), II, p. 358: 'The constituent parts of a foot are called sabab consisting of two letters . . . and watid consisting of three letters.' The awtdd form the invariable metrical core of the different feet and metres, while the asbdb are variable 'stuffing'; see D. Kouloughli in G. Bohas, J.-P. Guillaume and D. Kouloughli, The Arabic Linguistic Tradition (London and New York 1990), ch. 7 ('Metrics'). 17 I.e., according to the poetic conventions of the Arabs. 18 Gonzalez Palencia's edition, Catdlogo de las ciencias, pp. 126-7, has been checked against the manuscript he uses: Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale, lat. 9335, fol. 144rb~va.

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these are what are known amongst the Arabs as 'cords' (asbab} and 'pegs' (awtdd}^ and among the Greeks as 'syllables' and 'feet'; 3 then the Investigation concerning the lengths of the verses and hemistichs and by how many letters and syllables (maqtac) each verse (bqyt) is completed in each metre; 4 then it distinguishes the perfect metres from the deficient and which metres are more comely and beautiful and more enjoyable to listen to. 5 The second part is the consideration of the ends of the verses in each metre: whether they end with them [i.e. the Arabs] in a single way or in several ways, and which of them is complete, which superabundant, which diminished, and which ends with one letter alone kept throughout the whole poem (shi'r), and which of them with more than one letter kept in the poem (qasida), and how many is the greatest number of letters that can form the ends of the verses with them.17 6 Then it teaches, in the case of those which have more than one letter, whether it is allowable or not for some letters to be substituted with others equal to them in time of articulation (of these it is allowable for them to exchange them with letters equal in time). 7 The third part Investigates which expressions that are unsuitable for use in non-poetic discourse (qawl] are (to be) regarded as suitable for use in poetry.

In Gerard of Cremona's literal translation this passage appears as follows:18 1 Et scientie quidem canonum versuum secundum modum qui convenit scientie lingue tres sunt partes, quarum una comprehendit pondera usitata in versibus eorum, simplicia sint pondera sive composita, 2 deinde comprehendit compositionem litterarum almuagemati (in the margin: id est alfabet) ex unaquaque specie quarum pervenit unumquodque ponderum eorum et sunt que dicuntur apud Arabes cause et radices, et apud Grecos cesure et pedes. 3 Deinde inquirit de quantitatibus versuum et imnorum et ex quantis litteris et cesuris completur metrum in unoquoque pondere; 4 deinde discernit pondera completa a diminutls et que pondera sunt pulcriora et meliora et delectabiliora ad audiendum.

16 Cf. W. Wright, A Grammar of the Arabic Language, 2 vols (3rd ed., Cambridge 1964), II, p. 358: 'The constituent parts of a foot are called sabab consisting of two letters . . . and watid consisting of three letters.' The awtad form the invariable metrical core of the different feet and metres, while the asbab are variable 'stuffing'; see D. Kouloughli in G. Bohas, J.-P. Guillaume and D. Kouloughli, The Arabic Linguistic Tradition (London and New York 1990), ch. 7 ('Metrics'). 17 I.e., according to the poetic conventions of the Arabs. 18 Gonzalez Palencia's edition, Catalogo de las ciencias, pp. 126-7, has been checked against the manuscript he uses: Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale, lat. 9335, fol. 144rb—va.

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5 Et pars quidem secunda est aspectus in finibus versuum in unoquoque pondere19 quis eorum sit secundum modum unum et qui eorum sint secundum modos plures. Et de istis quis sit completus, et quis additus et quis diminutus, et qui fines serventur (in the margin: id est, una littera in finibus omnium versuum cum una et eadem littera in versibus omnibus), et qui eorum cum litteris pluribus una in imnis et quot plures littere sunt que sunt fines versuum apud eos; 6 deinde docet de illis qui sunt cum litteris pluribus, an liceat ut permutentur de loco quarumdam litterarum alie equales eis in tempore quo proferuntur, aut non. Et declarat in istis quarum litterarum est via ut serventur eedem in imno toto et de quibus earum licet ut permutentur cum litteris equalibus eis in tempore. 7 Et pars quidem tertia inquirit de eo quod est conveniens ut utatur in versibus ex dictionibus apud eos, de illis quibus non est conveniens uti in oratione que non est versus. On the whole this is a good translation. But it is doubtful whether Gerard's readers would have realised that 'pondera' meant 'metres' rather than 'weights', and that 'cesure' meant 'syllables' rather than 'caesuras' in the modern sense.20 It may have been because of its unintelligibility to a Latin audience that the archdeacon Dominicus Gundissalinus, Gerard's colleague in Toledo cathedral, considerably abbreviated and modified the same passage in his own version of the Enumeration of the sciences, writing merely:21 Scientia vero regularum ad versificandum docet quae syllaba longa, quae brevis, postea de pedibus et cesuris. Deinde (+ de) variis generibus metrorum. Varietatem autem metrorum facit numerus, vel (et) diversitas pedum, et appellatur a nomine pedis vel inventoris (et appellantur vel a nomine pedis vel a nomine inventoris). Unfortunately, al-Farabl did not provide any examples of poetry to illustrate the points made in his text. It is to the poetry itself that we may now turn. 19 The abbreviation for 'scilicet' (which has no equivalent in the Arabic) has been added above the line, perhaps indicating that the translator intended to add an explanation of the technical meaning of 'pondus' here. 20 The use of the word 'cesura' for '(long) syllable', however, also occurs in J. C. Scaliger, Poetices libri septem, ed. L. Deitz (Stuttgart-Bad Cannstatt 1994-), I, p. 439, n. 9 and p. 511, n. 64. 21 Gonzalez Palencia, Catdlogo de las ciencias, p. 90. The variant readings of Gundissalinus's De scientiis (ed. M. Alonso Alonso, Madrid-Granada 1954), which is virtually the same at this point, are given in italics. The last phrase is obviously a substitution from Gundissalinus's knowledge of Latin prosody in which the metre is named from the foot (e.g., 'iambic') or the inventor (e.g., 'Sapphic'); cf. Isidore,

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Petms Alfonsi and Adelard of Bath

Nearly one hundred and fifty years before Hermann made his 'Latin anthology of Arabic poetry' another scholar had produced Latin versions of several verses of presumed Arabic origin. This was Petrus Alfonsi, who was baptised in Huesca on June 29th, 1106, having previously been a Jewish scholar brought up in the environment of Arabic learning.22 After his conversion he composed a very popular collection of proverbs and admonitions, fables, verses, and bird and animal parables, based on Hebrew and Arabic material, which he called 'the education of the clerk' (Disciplina clericalis). He included amongst this material ten citations of 'versus' or of the work of a 'versificator', and two further citations of lines of poetry without attribution.23 In his description of the subject-matter of Disciplina clericalis he appears to be saying that the verses are Arabic,24 and in the first citation (no. 1 below) he indicates that the 'versificator' is an Arab (the subsequent citations give no indication of the identity of the poet). Etymologiae, ed. W. Lindsay (Oxford 1911), 1.39.5: 'Metra vel a pedibus nuncupata . . . vel ab inventoribus . . .'. 22 See C. Burnett, 'The Works of Petrus Alfonsi: Questions of Authenticity', Medium Mvum 66 (1997) 42~79. 23 For these citations, and an English translation, see Appendix below. In addition, poets feature in two of the exempla in the Disciplina clericalis: nos. Ill and IV. 24 'Libellum compegi, (1) partim ex proverbiis philosophorum et suis castigationibus, (2) partim ex proverbiis et castigationibus Arabicis et fabulis et versibus, (3) partim ex animalium et volucrum similitudinibus': Disciplina clericalis, ed. A. Hilka and W. Soderhjelm (Helsinki 1911), p. 2:2~5. The problem is whether 'Arabicis' goes with all the nouns of the second division, or only with those that precede it. Barry Taylor argues, convincingly in my view, that it applies to all the nouns: 'Wisdom Forms in the Disciplina clericalis of Petrus Alfonsi', La Coronica 22 (1993-4) 24-40 (see p. 25). Beyond the hints in Taylor's article, the nature and sources of the poetry in the Disciplina clericalis have not been explored, as far as I am aware, which contrasts to the situation concerning Petrus's exempla and proverbs on which there is an extensive literature: e.g. H. Schwarzbaum, 'International Folklore Motifs in Petrus Alphonsi's Disciplina clericalis', Sefarad 21 (1961) 267-99, 22 (1962) 17-59 and 321-44, 23 (1963) 54-73, E. Hermes, Petrus Alfonsi, Die Kunst, vemunftig & leben (Disciplina Clericalis) (Zurich 1970) (English translation, The Disciplina Clericalis of Petrus Alfonsi, transl. P. Quarrie, London-Henley 1977), P. Kunitzsch, review of Hermes's book, in ^eitschrift der Deutschen morgenldndischen Gesellschaft 121 (1971) 370-4, O. Spies, 'Arabische Stoffe in der Disciplina Clericalis', Rheinisches Jahrbuch fur Volkskunde 21 (1973) 170-99, U. Marzolph, Arabia ridens. Die humoristische Kurzprosa der Jriihen arab. Literatur im internationalen Traditionsgeflecht, 2 vols (Frankfurt 1992), articles in Estudios sobre Pedro Alfonso de Huesca, ed. M.-J. Lacarra (Huesca 1996), and F. Raddle, 'In der Alhambra der GroBen Vernunft: zum Werk des Petrus Alfonsi', in Ex nobili philologorum officio: Festschrift fur Heinrich Bihler, ed. D. Briesemeister et al. (Berlin 1998), pp. 47-60.

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It is plausible, then, to suppose that all the verses that Petrus refers to are from Arabic sources.25 This assumption would seem to be confirmed by the fact that verse no. 5 is clearly a version of a poem by al-Muctamid ibn cAbbad, the poet-king of Seville (1039-95).26 This poem has not been transmitted in any Arabic anthology, but is an isolated item in a Hebrew text of the thirteenth century, where it is written in Hebrew characters to illustrate the source of the preceding item, which is a translation of the same poem into the Hebrew language made by Meir Abulafia (1170-1244).27 There is other evidence that Petrus used Arabic texts written in Hebrew script.28 His knowledge of this poem, therefore, might indicate that it had become popular amongst Jewish readers already within a few years of al-Muctamid's death. Other poems quoted by Petrus are reminiscent of al-Muctamid's work,29 and it is possible that poems by the king of Seville had a wider distribution in the Iberian peninsula than the extant Arabic anthologies suggest.

25 Taylor, 'Wisdom Forms', p. 26, considers that the citations in verse form must be from unidentified Latin sources, but it is difficult to separate the verse and prose citations of the 'versificator' in terms of either contents or context. Petrus's versification is in general rudimentary and sometimes faulty. Only the single full-length poem (Appendix no. 12) could possibly be regarded as of a different origin from the rest. 26 The identification was made by T. A. Perry in The Moral Proverbs of Santob de Carrion: Jewish Wisdom in Christian Spain (Princeton 1987), pp. 79-80, and repeated in Taylor, 'Wisdom Forms', p. 25 and n. 8. 27 Haim Schirmann has published both Abulafia's translation and the opening of al-Muctamid's poem in Ha-shira ha-'ivrit bi-Sefarad u-v-Provens, 2 vols (Jerusalem 1955-6) II, p. 274, n. 336. Schirmann claims this is the earliest proof of an Arabic poem being translated into Hebrew. The fact that this is 'an isolated curiosity' is stated in R. P. Scheindlin, Form and Structure in the Poetry of al-Muctamid ibn 'Abbad (Leiden 1974), pp. 29-30. Perry, The Moral Proverbs, p. 80, argues that Abulafia's translation of al-Muctamid's poem is the form in which Santob de Carrion (fl. 1355—60) knew the poem. 28 For Petrus's reading of the Apologia of Pseudo-Kind! in Judaeo-Arabic (Arabic in Hebrew script) see P. Sj. van Koningsveld, 'La Apologia de al-Kindi en la Espana del siglo XII, huellas toledanas de un "animal disputax"', in Estudios sobre Alfonso VI y la reconquista de Toledo. Actas del II Congreso Intemacional de Estudios Mozdrabes, Toledo, 20-26 Mayo 1985 (Toledo 1989). 29 The nearest parallel I can find is mentioned in no. 9. The ruin of a noble family (no. 4 below) and subservience to fate (nos 10-12) are topics that conform to al-Muctamid's preoccupations after he was deposed and exiled, but the subjects are described in too general a way to be related directly to the Seville ruler's condition.

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Petrus translates five of the nine 'versus' into prose; the remaining six into verse: nos 4 and 8 are each two lines of hexameters, nos 10, 11 and 12 are in elegiac couplets (the metre of no. 7 is unclear). 'Versus' nos 4, 8, 10 and 11 have the nature of proverbs.30 Both hexameters and elegiac couplets were very commonly used in Latin proverbs. Of examples contemporary with Petrus Alfonsi are Eberhard of Bethune's variation of the Proverbia Senecae, written in hexameters, and Peter Abelard's Carmen ad Astralabium, written in elegiac couplets.31 The prose renderings, on the other hand, give the appearance of being rather literal translations from a Semitic language.32 Verse was also used by Petrus Alfonsi's associate and, possibly, pupil, Adelard of Bath, who included two poems of his own composition in his introduction to the seven liberal arts, the De eodem et diver so. What is curious is that Arabic verse appears, in Latin transcription, in the margins of a set of astronomical tables on which both scholars were working: the tables (<•£&;) of al-Khwarizmf. The copy concerned is the version composed by Adelard in 1126, and was made before 1140 in the priory of Worcester Cathedral.33 The first verses occur on fol. lOlr: 34 kulelach.uueli. kemithl.elhileli. fi kemelen.wanuczeni.

This is equivalent to 'kullu '1-ahwali ka-mithli '1-hilali fi kamalin wanuqsani' ('all the states are like those of the Moon in its fullness and waning'). The second line of Arabic occurs on fol. 127v of the same manuscript:

30

So Taylor, 'Wisdom Forms' (n. 24 above), p. 26. See B. Taylor, M. J. Duffell and C. Burnett, 'Proverbia Senece et versus Ebrardi super eadem: MS Cambridge, Gonville and Caius College, 122/59, pp. 19-29', Euphrosyne 26 (1998) 357-78 and Peter Abelard, Carmen ad Astralabium, ed. J.-M.-A. Rubingh-Bosscher (Groningen 1987). 32 Petrus says that he translated his own book into Latin, but he does not indicate whether he composed it in Hebrew or Arabic (Disciplina clericalis, ed. Hilka and Sodershjelm, p. 1:10): 'Deus igitur in hoc opusculo mihi sit in auxilium, qui me lib rum hunc componere et in Latinum transferre compulit'. 33 MS Oxford, Bodleian Library, Auct. F.I.9. 34 I have divided the lines to show the rhymes. The punctuation is as in the original. 31

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Cullel.kauuekib. kumna.fiscerafehu. ille otarid.35 hine.unxi.ademu.

i.e., probably, 'kullu '1-kawakib qumna fi sharafi/zw ilia cutarid hfna unshi'a adamu3 ('each of the planets was in its exaltation except Mercury when Adam was born'). The verses have a regular stress pattern, and vowel-rhyme (assonance) between the middle and the end of the line.36 The first example has, in addition, a strict rhyme of two syllables within the first half of the verse. In his original work on the astrolabe Adelard refers the doctrine of the second of the above-quoted verses precisely to the Arabs: Quibus, si Arabes sequimur, earn patriam habitare datum est in qua primus homo, omnibus planetis preter Mercurium in regnis suis existentibus, Creatore volente statuque celi ad generationem applicante, exortus est.37 If we follow the Arabs, it was these [the philosophers] who were granted the honour of living in that fatherland where the first man was born, when all the planets except Mercury were in their exaltations, and when the Creator willed and the condition of the heavens was encouraging generation.

The same doctrine appears in an appendix to the De occultis of Hermann of Carinthia (fl. 1138-43 in the valley of the Ebro and Languedoc).38 It was clearly common knowledge amongst Arabic astronomers. This information may have come from an Arabic source already written in metre, but it is perhaps more likely that it was 35 I have corrected the obvious manuscript error 'otari.a'; a 'd' with a curved ascender is frequently confused with an 'a' in manuscripts of Adelard's time. 36 The scribe may have placed the first punctus in each passage in a position which divides the Arabic word in two, because he was (subconsciously?) attempting to articulate the rhythm. In the second passage the vowel-rhyme is achieved at the expense of classical Arabic syntax, for the feminine plural form of the first verb does not fit well with the masculine singular (more correctly '-hi') of the possessive pronoun. 37 De opere astrolapsus, ed. B. Dickey, in Adelard of Bath: An Examination Based on Heretofore Unexamined Manuscripts, Ph.D diss. University of Toronto, 1982, p. 170. 38 MS Boston Public Library, MS 1488, fol. 20r '. . . et omnibus planetis in regnis suis existentibus excepto Bucarih natus erat Adam in terra Arim ex Digete et Uulcanis femine'. The text is highly corrupt.

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put into mnemonic form in a Latin context for Adelard and his colleagues by his Arabic-speaking teachers, among whom, we may presume, was Petrus Alfonsi. For Latin verse mnemonics occur frequently in the manuscripts of the mathematical works of Adelard and his circle, and Adelard had a predilection for poetry.39

Sajc (Rhymed Prose)

In the early twelfth century, then, we see, in the work of Petrus Alfonsi and Adelard of Bath, an interest in Arabic poetry, both as a vehicle for, or accompaniment to, scientific learning, and for its own sake. Unfortunately this interest was not developed by their successors. The literary and humanistic interests of the early translators from Arabic40 gave way to a more professional and specialised attitude towards translation, which demanded a strict verbum de verbo style, and belles lettres were passed over in favour of texts of immediate scientific or philosophical usefulness. There was one poetic medium, however, in which Arabic texts were written that continued to interest Latin translators, namely saf. Saf is regarded as the ancient form out of which Arabic poetry developed.41 It consists of short, rhymed phrases, with rhythmical cadences, and is characteristic of the magical and prophetic utterances of the pre-Islamic Bedouin Arabs, and hence of the language of the earliest siiras of the Qur'an. The Qur'an as a whole was regarded as being written neither in prose nor in poetry, but in a unique style.42 There were no attempts in the Latin translations of the Qur'an to imitate the rhyming of the Arabic, although literal translations

39 For the context see C. Burnett, The Introduction of Arabic Learning into England (London 1997), esp. pp. 31-46. 40 The willingness to lapse into poetry in this early period of Arabic-Latin translations can also be seen in the fact that a short passage of the Arabic version of Hippocrates's Airs, Waters and Places is turned into Latin hexameters in ca. 1100 in Southern Italy: see H. Diller, Die Uberlieferung der hippokratischen Abhandlung nepi depcov vSdrcov Toncav, Leipzig 1932, p. 103, section 106. 41 Afif Ben Abdesselem, article 'Sadj°, in Encyclopaedia of Islam (Leiden, 2nd ed., I960-) (El2) (Leiden 1995), pp. 732-8. 42 See the discussion by Angelika Neuwirth of Qur'anic saf in Grundriss der Arabischen Philologie, II: Literaturwissenschaft, ed. H. Gatje (Wiesbaden 1987), pp. 116-7.

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inevitably reproduced the effect of the short prophetic or exhortatory phrases.43 However, it is noteworthy that perhaps our only hint of an aesthetic appreciation of Arabic literature in the Middle Ages concerns the Qur'an. This is Ramon Llull's confirmation of the Muslims' claim that the Qur'an was a 'miracle . . . dictated in the highest form of artistic speech (dictameri)\ since he could bear witness that it was indeed 'extremely elaborate (multum ornatum}\^ Ramon Llull was able to make this judgement because he knew Arabic well, and wrote several works (now lost) in Arabic, though not in verse.45 It was probably out of appreciation for the style of the Qur'an that Ramon Llull imitated the Muslims' invocation of the ninety-nine names of God in Catalan verse.46 Specimens of saf were also known to Latin scholars in another context, namely the more humble field of meteorology. For the quotation of the rhymed sayings of the pre-Islamic Bedouin Arabs is a characteristic feature of the native Arabic genre of the kutub al-anwa* or agricultural almanacs.47 These give information on the weather, the planting and harvesting of crops, and so on, arranged accord43

This can be seen in the fragment of a literal translation of an 'anonymous Mozarab' that accompanies Robert of Ketton's translation of 1143, and in Mark of Toledo's translation of 1209-10, while Robert's own translation destroys the effect of the short sentences of the Arabic by replacing them with long Ciceronian periods: see M. T. d'Alverny, 'Deux traductions latines du Goran au Moyen Age', Archives d'histoire doctrinale et litteraire du Moyen Age (AHDLMA) 16 (1948) 69-131 (pp. 116-19 include a comparison of the different translations). Marie-Therese d'Alverny and George Vajda have noted that Mark of Toledo 'caique souvent le rythme de la phrase arabe' in their joint article 'Marc de Tolede, traducteur d'Ibn Tumart', Al-Andalus 16 (1951) 100-140, 259-307 and 17 (1952) 1-56 (see 16, p. 107). Both articles are reprinted with other articles on the Qur'an and Islam in M.-T. d'Alverny, La Connaissance de I'Islam dans ('Occident medieval (Aldershot 1994); see also H. Bobzin, Der Koran im ^eitalter der Reformation (Stuttgart 1995). 44 Ramon Llull, Liber define (written 1305), I. 2, in Raimundi Lulli opera latina (Palma de Mallorca, 1959-), XIX, p. 256: 'Saraceni credunt habere unum miraculum necessarium sive verum, ratione cuius affirmant eorum legem esse veram. Et hoc miraculum est eo quia dicunt Alcoranum fore in supremo gradu dictaminis sic dictatum in tantum quod homo ipsum dictasse non potuisset. . . Dictamen vero multum ornatum est: ego vidi'. This is a remarkably accurate Latin description of the Muslims' regard for the Qur'an as a mu'jiza (an inimitable 'miracle'). 45 C. Lohr, 'Ramon Llull: "Christianus Arabus'", Randa 19 (1986), pp. 7-34. 46 Ramon Llull, Els cent noms de Deu, prol., in Obres de Ramon Llull, 21 vols (Palma de Mallorca 1906-50), XIX (1936), p. 80: 'Lo sarrayns dien que en 1'Alcora son noranta nou noms de Deu, e qui sabia lo cente sabria totes coses' (referred to in d'Alverny, 'Deux traductions', p. 99). 47 C. Pellat, 'Dictons rimes, anwa3 et les mansions lunaires chez les arabes', Arabica 2 (1955) 17-41.

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ing to the setting of 28 constellations (al-anwd3 or 'lunar mansions') which the pre-Islamic Arabs had observed. The quotations are introduced by formulae such as 'the rhymer of the Arabs says (yaqulu sajic al-carab), or simply 'the Arabs say (taqulu }l-camb)'*8 A kitdb al-anwd3 is one of the sources for a calendar drawn up around 961 A.D. for the use of Christians in Muslim Cordoba, which was translated into Latin by Gerard of Cremona in the late twelfth century and is known as the 'Calendar of Cordoba'.49 In the preface to this work the author mentions that the Arabs (by which he means the pre-Islamic Bedouin Arabs) frequently mention the anwa* 'in their poems and rhymed sayings' (fl ash'arihim wa-asjacihim), which Gerard translates 'versibus eorum et ipsorum proverbiis'.50 In fact, of the several sayings of the pre-Islamic Arabs quoted in the work, only one is in rhymed prose.51 However, in the same preface, there is a quotation from a well-known Arab poetess, Layla al-Akhyaliyya (fl. 650—60 A.D.) which Gerard translates literally.52 In the years before ca. 1235 another translation of the Calendar of Cordoba was made by an anonymous translator, who called it the Liber regius.53 The translation is both more elegant and more accurate than that of Gerard, but no indication is given that the quotations are from poems or rhymed sayings.54 A 'versificator' turns up again in another work in the field of meteorology which was translated into Latin in the same period as the Liber regius, namely the Liber de significatione cometarum (1238).53 In this case the Arabic original has not been identified, but it is very likely 48

Afif Ben Abdesselem, 'Sadj°, p. 734. Le Calendrier de Cordoue, ed. R. Dozy, with a French translation and commentary by C. Pellat (Leiden 1961). 50 Pellat, Le Calendrier de Cordoue, pp. 8~9. 51 See Appendix below, no. 14. 52 See Appendix below, no. 13. 53 The text is edited by J. Samso and J. Martinez Gazquez, 'Una nueva traduccion latina del Calendario de Cordoba (siglo 13)' in Textosy Estudios sobre Astronomia Espanola en el siglo 13, ed. J. Vernet (Barcelona 1981), pp. 9-78; see also eidem, 'Algunas observaciones al texto del Calendario de Cordoba', Al-Qantara 2 (1981) 319-44. 04 See Appendix, nos. 13 and 14. The reference in the preface to 'poems and rhymed sayings' is missing in this translation. 15 See Appendix, no. 15. The text is edited by Lynn Thorndike in Latin Treatises on Comets between 1238 and 1368 A.D. (Chicago 1950), pp. 16-61. That this Latin work is a translation rather than a text originally written in Arabic (as Thorndike 49

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that the Versificator' is again the sdjic, and that this is another example of a rhymed saying. It is possible that other examples of quotations of rhymed prose may be found among the substantial and largely unexplored literature in Medieval Latin on weather forecasting and popular astrology.

Didactic verse The composition of entire didactic texts in verse is common to both Arabic and Latin literature.56 In Latin, these include the versifications of previous translations of several scientific texts or portions of text of Arabic provenance. The earliest example of this is the four verses describing the astrolabe stars written by Fulbert, bishop of Chartres from 1006 to 1028.57 But the genre was particularly popular at the beginning of the thirteenth century when Gilles de Corbeil made versions of medical texts from the School of Salerno and Constantine the African's circle, and Alexander of Villa Dei composed his Carmen de Algorismo (based on a translation of al-Khwarizmf's Indian Arithmetic}. In none of these cases were the original Arabic texts in verse. Some Arabic didactic poems, however, were known to Latin writers, and it is interesting to see how they handled them. The commonest form of Arabic didactic verse is the urjiiza, i.e. a poem written in the rajaz metre.58 One of the earliest fields of Arabic didactic verse was the science of the stars, in which Sanskrit astrological texts and canons for astronomical tables, which had been written (as the custom required) in verse, were translated into Arabic verse. This included a short Urjuza fi l-hudud ('Poem on the terms

claims, p. 9) is argued in C. Burnett, 'Al-Kindi in the Renaissance', in Sapientiam amemus: Humanismus und Aristotelismus in der Renaissance. Festschrift jur Eckhard Kefller zum 60. Geburtstag, ed. P. R. Blum (Munich 1999) 13-30 (see p. 24). 56 For Arabic, see G. Endress, 'Das Lehrgedicht' in Grundriss der Arabischen Philologie, II: Literaturwissenschaft, ed. H. Gatje (Wiesbaden 1987), pp. 471-3; for Latin, see T. Haye, Das lateinische Lehrgedicht im Mittelalter: Analyse einer Gattung (Leiden 1997). 57 F. Behrends, The Letters and Poems of Fulbert of Chartres, Oxford, 1976), pp. 260-1 (punctuation emended): Abdebaran Tauro, Geminis Menkeque Rigelque Frons et Calbalazet prestant insigne Leoni; Scorpie, Galbalagrab tua sit, Capricornie, Deneb, Tu, Batanalhaut, Piscibus es satis una duobus. 58 See M. Ullmann, Untersuchungen zur Ragazpoesie (Wiesbaden 1966).

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[of the signs of the zodiac]') by al-Fazarf (ca. 770-853),59 which is in the rajaz metre, and has the form of a qasida muzdawija60—a poem with the rhyme scheme aabbcc etc. This poem survives only within a Bodleian manuscript of the Introduction to astrology (kitdb al-mudkhal ild cilm an-nujum) of al-Qabisf (Alchabitius),61 where it follows a table of the terms and is described as being included 'to make the memorizing of them easier' (li-yusahhila hifzaha). The work of al-Qabisf was popular both in Arabic and in the Latin translation made by John of Seville in the mid-twelfth century, but, although the Bodleian manuscript gives a text which is closer to the Latin translation than any other Arabic manuscript known to the editors,62 the poem of al-Fazarf was not translated. Either it was not in the Arabic manuscript used by John of Seville, or it was regarded as being irrelevant to a Latin audience. Other Arabic astrologers also used verse to express the doctrine of their subject. CA1I ibn Abl r-Rijal summarised his major work, the Kitdb al-Bdric, in rajaz metre. The Kitdb al-Bdrf was translated into Castilian under the aegis of Alfonso X, king of Castile and Leon (1252-84), and thence into Latin under the title De iudiciis. But, contrary to what is implied by Fuat Sezgin, Ibn Abi r-Rijal does not quote his own poem on the significance of divination by thunder (Urjuzafi dalll ar-mcd) in this work.63 There is, however, another Arabic astrological work translated into Castilian under the king's aegis which does include quotations from an astrological urjuza—this being the original text of the Libro de las cruces, which, in chapter 57, quotes 39 verses of an urjuza of cAbd al-Wahid ibn Ishaq ad-Dabbl (fl. c. 800 A.D.).64 Ad-Dabbl is describing the 'astrology of the Romans', 59 D. Pingree, 'The Fragments of the Works of al-Fazarf, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 29 (1970) 103-23. 60 Not a qasida muthallatha, as 'stated in F. Sezgin, Geschichte des Arabischen Schrifttums, VI (Leiden 1978), p. 123, who was misled by the fact that the poem is arranged in groups of three verses (6 hemistichs), one group devoted to each of the signs of the zodiac. 61 MS Oxford, Bodleian, Marsh 663, fols. 6r~7r. 62 The Arabic and Latin texts are currently being edited by Michio Yano, Keiji Yamamoto and Charles Burnett. 63 See F. Sezgin, Geschichte des Arabischen Schrifttums, VII (Leiden 1979), pp. 187-8. Sezgin has misinterpreted a statement of Juan Vernet who mentions other, prose, works referred to in the Kitdb al-Bdrif: see his 'Tradicion y innovacion en la ciencia medieval' in Oriente e Occidente nel Medioevo. Filosqfia e science, Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei, Atti dei Convegni, 13 (Rome 1971), pp. 741-57, see p. 752. 64 See J. Samso, 'La primitiva version arabe del Libro de las Cruces', in Nuevos

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and provides a valuable testimony to the influence of Latin literature on Arabic in the early period of the Muslim occupation of the Iberian Peninsula. It is possible that the lost Latin original was in verse. The Castilian translation is in prose, and is amplified in respect to the Arabic verses. Since the Libra de las cruces seems never to have been translated into Latin, it does strictly not come under the purview of this article, but it does, at least, prove that Arabic didactic verse was known in the court of Alfonso. Texts in other fields of divination are found in rajaz metre; Toufic Fahd mentions an urjuza on divination by dreams.65 Here again, however, we have no example of a Latin verse translation of an Arabic original. There is an apparent exception to this: the treatise on lot-casting known as the Experimentarius, which consists of instructions followed by 28 sets of verse responses, each headed by the Arabic name of a lunar mansion. In some manuscripts this text is accompanied by a preface stating that the work is a faithful translation from Arabic into Latin, made by Bernardus Silvestris.66 However, I have argued elsewhere that the verses probably belong to a Latin tradition onto which an Arabic veneer has been imposed.67 Didactic verse was also used in alchemy. Endress lists several Arabic texts of this kind,68 to which one may add an Urjuza ft cilm as-sarfa ('Poem on the science of the Art') attributed to Hermes.69 Of these texts at least one was translated into Latin: the Risdlat ashshams ild l-hilal ('Letter of the Sun to the Moon') of Ibn Umayl (early 10th century), which was written as a poem in rajaz metre in 90 mukhammas-stxophes (i.e., strophes with a rhyme-scheme aaaaa bbbba . . . etc.) with a prose commentary entitled Al-md3 al-waraqi wa 'l-ard an-

estudios sobre astronomia espanola en el siglo de Alfonso X, ed. J. Vernet (Barcelona 1983), pp. 149-61. 65 T. Fahd, La divination arabe (Paris 1987), p. 347. 66 'Titulus vero talis est: Experimentarius Bernardi (v.l. Bernardini) Silvestris, non quia inventor fuit, sed fidelis ab Arabico in Latinum interpres': see C. Burnett, 'What is the Experimentarius of Bernardus Silvestris? A Preliminary Survey of the Material', AHDLMA 44 (1977) 62-108 (see p. 124); see also P. Dronke, Fabula (Leiden and Cologne 1974), pp. 139-43. 67 See Burnett, 'What is the Experimentarius', p. 86 and id., 'The Sortes regis Amalrici: an Arabic Divinatory Work in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem?' Scripta Mediterranea 19-20 (1998-9) 229-37. 68 Endress, 'Das Lehrgedicht', p. 472. 69 F. Sezgin, Geschichte des Arabischen Schrifttums IV (Leiden 1971), p. 39.

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najmiyya ('The Silvery Water and the Starry Earth'). The author and date of the Latin translation is unknown, and there are no poetic features in this version.70 Nevertheless, it is in alchemy, in which allegorical and hieratical styles were cultivated, that one might expect poetic language to be retained, and there may yet be found examples of poetic renderings of Arabic alchemical works among the largely uncharted medieval Latin literature on the subject.71 The most famous example of Arabic didactic verse, however, is Avicenna's Urjuzafi t-tibb ('Poem on Medicine; CanticJ}. This is Avicenna's summary of theoretical and practical medicine in the form of 1313 muzdawij-verses in rajaz metre.72 Avicenna explains in his prose preface that doctors often write poems in the rajaz. metre, which distinguish the eloquent from the stammerers, and the skilful from the ignorant, and he recommends the poem's 'clothing of beauty' (hullat al-jamal] and 'lightness of metre, which facilitates studying' (khiffat almawzuni li-takun aysar talaban). Several commentaries were written on this work, including ones by Ibn Tufayl and Averroes, both written in Cordoba in the latter half of the twelfth century. Averroes's commentary was known to Ramon Marti (ca. 1230-ca. 1285) who cited 70

A new edition of the Latin text is being prepared by Italo Ronca: see his edition of the Latin translation of the Arabic preface (in prose), in '"Senior de Chemia": A Reassessment of the Medieval Latin Translation of Ibn Umayl's Al-ma? al-waraql wa 'l-ard al-najmiyya,' Bulletin de Philosophic Medievale 37 (1995) 9—31. 71 For an orientation, see R. Halleux, 'The Reception of Arabic Alchemy in the West', in Encyclopedia of the History of Arabic Science, ed. R. Rashed, 3 vols (LondonNew York 1996), III, pp. 886-902. In the fourteenth-century list of alchemical works drawn up by Dominicus, monk of the monastery of St Procolo in Bologna (MS Palermo, Biblioteca comunale, 4° Qq 10, fol. 370b), four 'libri metrici' are mentioned, including one 'quern leber philosophus composuit qui incipit: Filii doctrinam sanam tibi porrigo binam' (a work in 100 hexameter verses, extant in several MSS; see L. Thorndike and P. Kibre, A Catalogue of Incipits of Mediaeval Scientific Writings in Latin (2nd edn, London 1963), col. 559) and another 'qui dicitur mappa clavicule (sic) per Robertum translata de Arabico in Latinum qui incipit: Quere Dei regnum prius et tibi cuncta dabuntur', which has not been identified in a manuscript, although the extant Mappae clavicula also begins with verses ('Sensim per partes discuntur quaelibet artes . . .') in the Phillipps-Corning MS (which includes Arabic elements), edited by T. Phillipps and A. Way in Archaeologica 32 (1847). The alchemical 'credo'—the Tabula Smaragdina—though without rhyme and metre, is certainly written in a poetic style, which is reflected in some of its Latin translations: see J. Ruska, Tabula Smaragdina (Heidelberg 1926). 72 Endress, 'Das Lehrgedicht', p. 472; H. Jahier and A. Noureddine, Avicenna. Poeme de la medecine (Paris 1956), provide an edition of the Arabic, a French translation and a reproduction of the Renaissance reprint of the Latin translation; this edition is the basis for the edition with Spanish translation by N. S. Jabary and P. Salamanca Segoviano (Valladolid 1997).

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it in his Pugio fidei™ and was translated into Latin along with the Cantica itself.74 This Latin translation was made by Armengaud de Blaise in 1294,75 and revised, without Averroes's commentary, in a publication of 1527 by Andrea Alpago of Belluno.76 Armengaud seemed to think that there was no need to attempt to translate the Arabic verse into Latin verse, even though Averroes had specifically commented on the special character of the Cantica resulting from its being written in verse form, and Armengaud had reproduced these comments, which are as follows:77 Dedi operam ad commentandum librum richimatum [i.e. rithmatum], qui intitulatur liber Benchine partium Medicinae: ipse enim universaliter concludit eas. Est enim cum hoc melior valde pluribus aliis intro ductionibus et summis in medicina compilatis, ordine valde convenienti ad tenendum mente vel memoria, dilatanti et delectanti animam. Fui autem attentus ad exponendum eius dicta, expositione qua eius certa intentio comprehendatur et intelligatur, verborum confusionem et multitudinem postponendo. Quoniam authores sermonum richimatorum in actibus scientiarum indigent quandoque diminutione sermonis et truncatione: necnon etiam mutatione unius loco alterius explicando suam nobilem intentionem. I have made an effort to comment on the metrical text ('librum richimatum' = al-urjuza) which is entitled 'the book of Ibn Sina on the parts of medicine': for it includes the parts in a total fashion. For this is much better than many other introductions and summas ('introduc73 Pugio fidei, Pars I, cap. Ill, VIII, ed. J. de Voisin and J. B. Carpzov (Leipzig 1687), p. 198; Ramon refers to the work under the title 'Oriusa Avicennae'. 74 The belief that Gerard of Cremona translated the Cantica in the late twelfth century (Jahier and Noureddine, Avicenne, p. 101) probably derives from the fact that Gerard was the translator of Avicenna's major medical work, the Canon medicine. 75 See M.-T. d'Alverny, 'Avicenne et les medecins de Venise', in eadem, Avicenne en Occident (Paris 1993), article 13, p. 188. 76 Principis Avic. Libri Canonis necnon De medicinis cordialibus et Cantica ab Andrea Bellunensi ex antiquis Arabum originalibus ingenti labore, summaque diligentia correcti (Venice 1527), fols 429r~438v. This last text was reprinted, with Averroes's commentary (apparently not corrected by Alpago), in Supplement 1 of the 1562 Venice Giuntine edition of Aristotelis Opera cum Averrois Commentaries, pp. 220-306. This later edition is used here. 77 Averroes, Commentary on Cantica, Giuntine edition, p. 220. I have compared this text with the Arabic text in MS Algiers, National Library, 1753, a facsimile of which was published in Algiers in 1978, and kindly sent to me by Josep Puig. Armengaud's text is briefer, and probably relies on a different manuscript tradition. I have not been able to consult Shark Ibn Rushd li-Urjuzat Ibn Sina, ed. CA. at-Talibr (Qatar 1996); for further manuscripts of the Arabic text see G. Anawati, Bibliographie d'Averroes (Algiers: Organisation arabe pour 1'education, la culture et les sciences, 1978), pp. 240-2.

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tionibus et summis' = al-madakhil 'introductions') compiled on medicine, because of its arrangement which is very appropriate for memorising, and delighting the soul.78 I have concentrated on explaining its words with a commentary by which its firm intention is comprehended and understood, through putting aside confusion and prolixity of words. Since authors of metrical texts79 concerning the practice of sciences sometimes need to have their texts shortened and cut, and even need a change of order for explaining their high aim.

So, according to Averroes, verse is useful for memorising material, and is, above all, enjoyable, but has the disadvantage of sometimes being prolix and of altering the order of material. This is precisely Boggess's criticism of the verse translations of Hermann the German.80

Arabic Poetry and the Vernaculars; Petrarch So far, the harvest of Latin translations of Arabic poems has been rather meagre, and the number of texts can be reduced considerably further if one takes into account only translations in which the poetic medium of the original was retained. Yet one could object that it is unfair to limit attention to Latin poetic renderings of Arabic poetry, even when considering only the learned tradition. For scholars were not isolated from their environment, and it is inconceivable that Latin scholars living in areas where Arabic-speaking populations remained—in parts of Spain, in Southern Italy, and in the Crusader States—did not have any experience of Arabic poetry, especially since the public recitation of poetry played such an important role in Arab society. In the vernacular literature of Medieval Spain there are several quotations of Arabic words and phrases, which reflect the continuing presence of Arab speakers in the society.81 Included among these are two references to Arabic songs: one 78 'ad tenendum mente vel memoria, dilatanti et delectanti animam' = li 'l-hife wa 'l-munshit li 'n-nqfs (Tor memorizing and as an encouragement for the soul'). 79 sermonum richimatorum = al-aqdunl al-mawzuna ('words put in metre').

80

P. 30 above. Several of these quotations have been brought together in A. Galmes de Fuentes, 'Un estribillo arabe en un zejel frances del siglo XIII', in Hispanic Medieval Studies in Honor of Samuel G. Armistead, ed. E. Gerli and H. Sharrer (Madison 1992), pp. 131-7; for further details concerning individual examples, see E. Garcia Gomez, 'La cancion famosa "Calvi vi calvi calvi aravi"', Al-Andalus 21 (1956) 1-18, 215-6, B. Button, 'An Arabic Refrain in a Thirteenth-Century Galician Poem?' Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 41 (1964) 1-9, Poemas castellanos de cancioneros bilingues y otros manuscntos 81

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called qalbl carabi ('my heart is Arabic'), the other beginning yd dayfi sultan kabir ('O my host! Great Sultan!'). Further Arabic phrases appear as refrains to Romance vernacular poems in such a way that they have been regarded as examples of kharja& in reverse (since kharjas are more often Romance refrains to Arabic poems); one of these is a refrain to a thirteenth-century French poem.82 In Sicily Arabic poetry flourished under the reigns of the Norman kings in the twelfth century, and presumably poetry continued to be recited among the Arabic-speaking populations of Southern Italy and Sicily.83 In a letter of 17 Nov. 1370 Petrarch writes that he 'knows what kind of poets' the Arabs are, and Hamilton Gibb accepts this as evidence that scholars had first-hand experience of Arabs reciting poetry in Italy even in the late fourteenth century.84 However, it must be pointed out that the examples that the fragments of Arabic in Romance vernacular poetic contexts are entirely of the vernacular Arabic kind: i.e. the grammar and the phonetics, as far as they can be discerned from the transcriptions, correspond to the spoken Arabic of the people (the 'Low variety'). No quotations of the classical Arab poets, or written in the literary Arabic style (the ifsdh], have been found.85 The short prelude in a Catalan cancionero86 barceloneses, ed. P.-M. Catedra (Exeter 1983), p. 43, no. XXVII, and Cancionero de Juan Alfonso de Baena [ca. 1450], ed. B. Button and J. Gonzalez Cuenca (Madrid 1993), pp. 242~3. I am grateful to Jane Whetnall for supplying me with bibliography on Arabic phrases in vernacular poetry. For Arabic battle-cries and other such phrases in European literature see P. Kunitzsch, Reflexe des Orients im Namengut mittelalterlicher europdischer Literatur (Hildesheim 1996), pp. 50-1 and 56-7. 82 Discussed in Galmes de Fuentes, 'Un estribillo arabe'. 83 For Arabic poetry, see A. Ahmad, A History of Islamic Sicily (Edinburgh 1975), pp. 79—81; for the importance of Sicily for Medieval and Renaissance scholars' experience of Arabic, see A. Piemontese, 'Trinacria arabistica e umanistica', in Azhar. Studi arabo-islamici in memona di Umberto Rizzitano (1913-1980) = Annali della Facolta di lettere e filosofia delPUniversita, Studi e ricerche XXIII, eds A. Pellitteri and G. Montaina (Palermo 1995) 177-86. 84 H. Gibb, in The Legacy of Islam, first edition, ed. T. Arnold and A. Guillaume (Oxford 1931), p. 192. 83 The same observation can be made concerning the Spanish literature written in Arabic script by Muslims in Christian Spain ('Aljamiado literature'), which does not include versions of any classical Arabic literature (other than the Qur'an) in prose or verse: see G. Weijers, Tfa Gidelli (fl. 1450), his Antecedents and Successors (Groningen 1991). 86 Ed. P.-M. Catedra, Poemas castellanos, p. 43.

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Di ley vi namxi, ay, mesqui, naffla calbi

(rewritten by Josep M. Sola-Sole in vernacular Hispano-Arabic: (b)ille[h]i bi[k] namxi, ay m(i)squi, na(h)la qalbi

and interpreted as equivalent to classical Arabic: bi-allahi bi-ka namshf, ayyu miskl nahla qalbr)87

—may resemble the Arab verse in Adelard's translation of astronomical tables (pp. 37~8 above) on a formal level. Nevertheless the transcription in Adelard's text betrays an Arabic of a considerably higher register than that in the Romance setting, retaining as it does the nominal inflexions. Moreover, the most plausible explanation for Petrarch's knowledge of Arabic poetry is simply that he had read Averroes's Poetria Aristotelis.88 One may compare Petrarch's words with those of Hermann the German's translation. Petrarch writes: Unum antequam desinam te obsecro, ut ab omni consilio mearum rerum tui isti Arabes arceantur atque exulent. Odi genus universum. Scio Graecos fuisse olim ingeniosissimos ac facundissimos viros. Multi inde philosophi et poetae maximi et oratores et mathematici insignes— medicorum principes ilia pars mundi genuit. Arabes vero, quales medici tu scis, quales autem poetae scio ego. Nihil blandius, nihil mollius, nihil enervatius, nihil denique turpius, et quamvis animi hominum alii ad alia proniores sint, ut tu tamen dicere soles, in omnibus elucescit ingenium et quid multa—vix mihi persuadebitur ab Arabia posse aliquid boni esse.89

87

This is the interpretation that Galmes reports, but it should be noted that Catedra (as in previous note) also gives another reading, by Julio Samso, which makes the poem seem closer to classical Arabic. 88 This was first suggested by Charles Bodenham ('Petrarch and the Poetry of the Arabs', n. 8 above), and has been confirmed in C. Burnett, 'Petrarch and Averroes: An Episode in the History of Poetics', in The Medieval Mind: Hispanic Studies in Honour of Alan Deyermond, ed. R. Penny and I. Macpherson (London 1997), pp. 49-56. 89 Epistolae seniles, XII.2 (to the doctor, Giovanni Dondi), Venice, 1503, fol. Y vi recto. The punctuation has been tacitly altered.

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Before I stop, I beg one thing of you: keep away—no, banish—those Arabs of yours from anything to do with me. I hate the entire race! I know that the Greeks were once most talented and eloquent men. Many philosophers, the greatest poets, and famous orators and mathematicians came from there; that part of the world produced the leading doctors. But as for the Arabs—you know what kind of doctors they are; / know what kind of poets! There is nothing more seductive, nothing more soft-centred, nothing more without fibre,—in short, nothing more disgusting! And, although the psychologies of different peoples are different, as you are accustomed to say, yet talent shines out in all races etc., I will hardly be persuaded that anything good can come from Arabia. In the Poetria Aristotelis Petrarch would have read:90 Et tibi non erit difficile invenire exempla in poematibus Arabum, licet plura ipsorum poemata non sint, ut ait Abunazrin Alfarabius, nisi circa voluptatum genera. Species vero poetrie quam elegiam nominant non est nisi incitatio ad actus coituales, quos amoris nomine obtegunt et decorant;91 ideoque oportet ut a talium carminum lectione abstrahantur filii, et instruantur et exerceantur in carminibus que ad actus fortitudinis et largitatis sive liberalitatis incitant et inclinant; non enim instigant Arabes in carminibus suis nisi ad has duas virtutes e numero virtutum, neque simpliciter ad has in quantum virtutes sunt, sed in quantum per eas acquiritur altitude honoris et glorie. . . . Greci vero non multiplicant talia in poematibus suis, nisi in quantum per ea intendunt tradere documenta et precepta ad sequendas virtutes et respuenda vitia aut quaslibet alias bonitates operabiles aut scientiales. It will not be difficult for you to find examples (of vivid metaphor) in the poems of the Arabs, although most of their poems, as Abu Nasr al-Farabf says, are about nothing except the gamut of human pleasure. The kind of poetry which they call 'elegy' is nothing other than a stimulus to sexual intercourse, which they disguise and prettify under the name of 'love'. Therefore one should keep one's sons away from reading such poems, and they should be instructed in, and learn off by heart, poems which incite and predispose them to acts of courage and generosity. These are the only two virtues that the Arabs encourage in their poems, and even these are encouraged not for their own sake, but so that they might puff themselves up with glory and fame . . . But the Greeks only dwell on such things92 in their poems in as far

90 91

Poetria Aristotelis, ed. Minio-Paluello, p. 44.

'quos amoris nomine obtegunt et decorant' appears to be Hermann's gloss on the original Arabic text. 92 'Such things' refers to metaphors involving minerals, vegetables and animals, mentioned in the omitted sentence.

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as they convey examples and instructions for pursuing virtues and rejecting vices, and other good intellectual and moral activities. Petrarch could have picked up not only Averroes's criticism of a certain genre of classical Arabic poetry (the qasidd) from this source, but also Hermann the German's prejudice against Muslim morality, which has somewhat compromised the literalness of his translation.93 If he wished to use them, Petrarch had at hand examples of Arabic poetry in Hermann's translation, but he need not have read beyond the first few pages of the Poetria to gain his negative attitude towards the poetry.

From the Middk Ages to the Renaissance Even if this article has revealed that other examples of Arabic poetry and rhymed prose were known to Latin authors, aside from the 'Latin anthology of Arabic poetry' of Hermann the German, this does not mean that Latin scholars of the Middle Ages on the whole were interested in Arabic poetry as such. The promising beginnings of an interest that we can see in Petrus Alfonsi and Adelard of Bath came to nothing, and only an eccentric like Ramon Llull could comment on the literary quality of an Arabic text. Those scholars who translate Arabic poetry and verse did not consciously imitate any Arabic poetic forms in their Latin translations. Hermann the German often made an effort to represent Arabic poetry in a style different from his usual verbum de verbo style, but chose to use the rhymed prose that was distinctive of the rhetorical writings of certain Latin authors of his time. Petrus Alfonsi used the metres favoured in Latin proverb literature. The translators of astrological, alchemical and medical texts did not make any effort at all to adopt a special style for Arabic verse. Petrarch, apparently following Averroes, despised Arabic poetry, and there is no evidence that any Latin scholar of his time would have disagreed with his judgement.94 One has to wait until the sixteenth century before Western scholars obtained any more information about Arabic poetry. Early in that century Leo Africanus, an Arab scholar who had been brought up 93

This has been demonstrated in detail in Burnett, 'Petrarch and Averroes'. Such a negative judgement has persisted amongst Western scholars of Arabic literature even until recent times: see Scheindlin, Form and Structure, pp. 1-2. 94

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in Fez, was captured by pirates and presented to Pope Leo X, wrote a treatise on Arabic prosody, which greatly amplified the brief information given in al-Farabf's Enumeration of the Sciences, and included transliterations of verses from two poems by the pre-Islamic poet Ibn Zuhayr,95 and a Latin translation of several lines of the poetry of alKhalll.96 In another work—his biobibliography of Arabic scholars known as De viris quibusdam illustribus dpud Arabes—he included some translations from Arabic poems.97 Later in the same century a certain Jean Faucher attempted to emulate Avicenna as a poet, by translating the Urjuza ft t-tibb into classical Latin elegiacs.98 In imitation of the lyrical words of Avicenna's preface (omitted by Armengaud de Blaise) he also addresses his reader in verse, beginning and ending as follows:99 Dogmata quae quondam rhytmis (sic) modulata canoris Ediderat summae nobilitatis Arabs, Versibus haec elegis recinit Faucherius. . . Barbarico grates vati, pariterque latino (Adiutum si te noris) utrique refer. The doctrines that an Arab of the greatest nobility once put forth modulated with sonorous metres, Faucher sings again in elegiac verses. If you acknowledge that you been helped, give thanks equally to both poets: the barbarian one, and the Latin.

95 The Latin text is discussed and edited in A. Codazzi, 'II trattato dell'arte metrica di Giovanni Leone Africano', in Studi orientalistici in onore di Giorgio Levi della Vida, I (Rome 1956), pp. 180-98 (see p. 195). Leo Africanus attributes one of the Arabic quotations, wrongly, to an-Nabigha ('Nabigha') and the other to Kacb ibn Zuhayr ('Chab filius Zuheir'); al-Khalll ibn Ahmad was well-known as a philologist of the eighth century: see E. Sellheim, s.v., El2, IV (Leiden 1978), pp. 962-4. 96 Codazzi, 'II trattato dell'arte metrica'), pp. 186-7. 97 Printed in J. A. Fabricius, Bibliotheca graeca, 14 vols (Hamburg 1726), vol. 13, pp. 259-94. Leo includes excerpts from poems by al-Farabi (p. 266), al-Ghazzalf (p. 275), and Averroes (p. 285), and from several poems by at-Tughra'I (pp. 276-7). 98 Cantica Avicennte carmine elegiaco TiapowppaatiKox; ex arabico latine reddita a loanne Fauchero medico Bellocarensi, edited by his son, Guillaume Faucher (Nimes 1630). The date of composition is not known, but Jean Faucher is said to have been born in 1530 (see Jahier and Noureddine, Avicenna. Poeme de la medecine, p. 102). 99 Jean Faucher, Cantica Avicenna, pp. 7-8. It is possible that the preface to the reader was written by the son, as were the 'strophe', 'antistrophe' and 'epode', all addressed to the dedicatee, that precede the preface, but the fact that this preface is signed 'Faverius' (sic) and written in the same verse-form as the text that follows argues in favour of Jean's composition.

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By the early years of the next century, the classical poets admired by the Arabs begin to be appreciated by European scholars too. For Thomas Erpenius, in an inaugural lecture given at Leiden University in 1620, emphasises that100 . . . there are not in the rest of the world, nor were there ever, as many poets as in Arabia alone. I am not misleading my audience. They number sixty poets of the first rank, who have many squadrons under them, and in whose writings there is such elegance of invention, as well as learning, care in composition, and sweetness of harmony and rhythm that anyone who reads or hears them is totally carried away by their charm. Thus it is not surprising that Leo Africanus101 and other authors say that Arabic poetry is such an incredible delight that there is nothing in other languages that can be compared to it.

Erpenius goes on to praise al-Mutanabbl, the poet favoured by Averroes, and to promise an edition and Latin prose translation of his work. But a discussion of how the charms of Arabic poetry finally won over European scholars goes beyond the scope of the present article: the history of the rediscovery of Arabic poetry in the Renaissance has still to be written.

100

I quote from the translation of Robert Jones in 'Thomas Erpenius (1584-1624) on the Value of the Arabic Language', Manuscripts of the Middle East 1 (1986) 15-25 (see p. 19). 101 This appreciation of Arabic poetry is not found in Leo Africanus's treatise on prosody, but may be somewhere in his voluminous and popular Description of Africa, printed in Italian translation in G. B. Ramusio, Navigazioni e Viaggi, ed. M. Milanesi, I (Turin 1978), pp. 9-460.

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APPENDIX

A Supplementary Latin Anthology of Arabic Poetry This appendix includes all the Latin translations of Arabic poems and rhymed sayings (but excluding didactic verse) that are not in Hermann the German's translation of Averroes's Poetria Aristotelis and published in William Boggess's 'Hermannus Alemannus' Latin Anthology of Arabic Poetry'. 1) Petrus Alfonsi, Disciplina clematis 2:22 (2:28):102 Dixit Arabs in versu suo: Inobediens es Deo: simulas tamen te eum amare, et incredibile est; si enim vere amares, obedires ei. Nam qui amat, obedit. The Arab said in his verse: 'You are inobedient to God; you pretend that you love Him and it cannot be believed. For if you were to love Him truly, you would obey Him. For who loves, obeys.'

2) Petrus Alfonsi, Disciplina clericalis 7:1 (6:40): Dixit quidam versificator: Est una de huius saeculi adversitatibus gravioribus libero homini quod necessitate cogitur ut sibi subveniat requirere inimicum. A certain versifier said: 'One of the most serious misfortunes for a free man in this world is that he is forced by necessity to ask his enemy to help him.'

3) Petrus Alfonsi, Disciplina clericalis 7:25 (7:34): Fuit quidam sapiens versificator egregius sed egenus et mendicus, semper de paupertate sua amicis conquerens, de qua etiam versus composuit talem sensum exprimentes: Tu qui partiris partes monstra mea cur mihi desit! Culpandus non es, sed die mihi: quern culpabo? Nam si constellatio mea est mihi dura, a te quoque id factum esse indubitabile est. Sed inter me et ipsam tu orator et iudex es. Tu dedisti

102 The edition of A. Hilka and W. Soderhjelm is used, the first reference being to the pages and lines of the editio maior. Acta Societatis Scientiarum Fennicae 38, no. 4 (Helsinki 1911); the second to those of the editio minor (Heidelberg 1911).

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mihi sapientiam sine substantia. Die ergo mihi: quid faciet sapientia sine substantia? Accipe partem sapientiae et da mihi partem pecuniae! Ne patiaris me illo indigere cuius damnum erit mihi pudori! There was once a famous and wise versifier who was reduced to poverty and begging, and always complained about his poverty to his friends. He even composed verses about it, which had the following sense: 'You [addressing God} who give each man his share, show me why mine is lacking! You should not be to blame, but tell me, whom should I blame? For if my stars are unkind to me, even so one cannot doubt that that was your doing. But between me and the stars you are both advocate and judge. You gave me wisdom without wealth. Tell me, then, what can wisdom do without wealth? Take back a share of wisdom and give me a share of money! Do not allow me to lack that whose absence will be a cause of shame to me!' 4) Petrus Alfonsi, Disciplina clericalis 10:7 (10:21): Ut ait versificator: Glorificant gazae privates nobilitate Paupertasque domum premit altam nobilitate. Riches glorify those who are devoid of nobility and poverty oppresses a family when it is lofty with nobility.103 5) Petrus Alfonsi, Disciplina clericalis 10:9 (10:24) immediately following the preceding verses: Versificator quidam de adversitatibus saeculi quae super nobiles veniunt, versus fecit istos sub persona nobilium: Die, inquit, illis qui pro adversitatibus quae nobis accidunt nos contempnunt quod saeculum nulli fecit contrarium nisi nobilibus tantum. Nonne vides quod mare devehit stercora et paleas, et pretiosi lapides in fundum vadunt? Et nonne vides quod in caelo sunt stellae e quibus nescimus numerum? At insuper nulla quidem patitur eclipsim praeter solem et lunam. A certain versifier made these verses concerning the misfortunes of the world which come to noblemen, adopting the persona of noblemen: 'Tell those who despise us because of the misfortunes which happen to us, that the world has brought a reverse to noblemen only. Do you not see that the sea carries on its surface foul dung and dead vegetation, while precious stones sink to the bottom? And do you not see

103 These two verses are reproduced in H. Walther, Proverbia Sententiaeque Latinitatis Medii Aevi, 6 vols and supplements (Gottingen, 1963-9), no. 10342, who gives another three sources (none earlier than Petrus Alfonsi), and a reference to Revue Beige 22, 1943, p. 30.

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that in the heavens there are stars of which we do not know the number? Yet there too no star suffers eclipse except the Sun and Moon.' The source of this citation is a short poem by al-Muctamid, which Perry translates (from the literal Hebrew translation of Meir Abulafia) as: When troubles fall upon us, tell those who despise us: 'Does fortune war except against its nobles? Come, now, consider the sea: [only] rubbish floats upon the surface, while precious stones lie buried in its depths. And though the hosts of heaven are without number, none puts on darkness except its two [major] lights.104 6) Petrus Alfonsi, Disciplina clericalis 39:10 (42:31): Amicus autem desolato retulit versus amico, ut consolaretur eum, dicens: Amice, noli desolari, quia multotiens contingit homini tam graves adversitatum inundationes sustinere quod desideret eas etiam inhonesta morte finire; et statim eveniunt ei tanta commoda quod prorsus dulce sit ei praeteritarum reminisci adversitatum. In order to console a desolate friend, his friend recited some verses to him: Friend, do not despair, because very often a man chances to bear such overwhelming surges of misfortune that he wishes to end them even by suicide, but then, all of a sudden, such great benefits happen to him that it is even sweet for him to remember the misfortunes of the past. 7) Petrus Alfonsi, Disciplina clericalis 40.4 (43.26): Alius: Se venustantem semper saeculum dedecorat Et peroptantem se terra deglutit et vorat105

104

Perry, The Moral Proverbs, p. 79. 105 This pOeni) as it stands, is in neither metric or quantitative verse, but, as has been pointed out to me by Frank Bezner, exhibits rhyme, and the same number of syllables in each of the rhymed phrases, which is a characteristic of the sequence form: see P. Dronke, 'The Beginnings of the Sequence', Beitrage zur Geschichte der deutschen Sprache und Literatur 87 (1965) 43-73, reprinted in id., The Medieval Poet and his World (Rome 1984), pp. 115—44. There are, however, problems with the text, which has been emended by the editors; the manuscript readings include 'se per venustatem . . .' (the majority of the MSS), 'se venustate saec. decorat', 'si venustatem . . .', 'si pervenisti autem saec. decorat', 'sicut saec. transiens venustatem dedecorat', and 'severum stantem saec. decorat'.

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Another [said]: This world always takes the beauty away from the one who preens himself and the earth swallows up and devours the one who likes himself excessively. 8) Petrus Alfonsi, Disciplina clericalis 40.6 (43.29): Alms: Quasi in ictu oculi finitur gloria mundi106 Et cum sit fragilis, non exoptanda videtur Another [said]: As if in the blink of an eye, the glory of the world comes to an end and, since it is liable to break, evidendy it should not be overly desired. 9) Petrus Alfonsi, Disciplina clericalis 39.23 (43.15): Sicut dixit versificator: Cum fueris in tristitia, nihil inde sollicitus eris, sed omnia in dispositione Dei permitte et renuntia semper bonum futurum, et ita eris oblitus malorum, quia multa mala eveniunt, quae in bono fmiuntur. Just as the versifier says: 'When you are sad, you will not be worried at all about it, but put everything into the hands of God and always renounce a prosperous future, and thus you will forget your ills, because many ills come about which end in good'.

This bears a distant similarity to another poem by al-Muctamid, translated by Scheindlin as: Calm your heart; let not worry destroy it: what good will grief and fear do you? And chide your eyelids; do not consent that they weep; and bear up; for you have always borne up under affliction. And if it was God's decree that has kept [you] from your desire, nothing can avert that which God's decree brings about.

Entrust to God the matter which you fear and rely on [Him]-Who-Seeks-the-Help-of-God to forgive.

106 107

This verse is metrically defective. I omit the next two stanzas which continue in the same vein.

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Let not catastrophes terrify you, if fate commits a wrong; for God defends, and he who is helped [by God] is victorious. Bear up! for you are from a clan possessing endurance, who, when calamities overtake them, bear up.108 10) Petrus Alfonsi, Disciplina clericalis 41.22 (45.15): Dicit versificator: Mors est porta patens terrenis pervia cunctis; Sed quaero post hanc quae sit habenda domus. The versifier says: 'Death is an open door, to be passed through by all earthly things. But I ask what home should one get at the other side of the door?' 11) Petrus Alfonsi, Disciplina clericalis 44.4 (48.16): Fac sicut dicit versificator quidam: Quod vitare nequis constanti sustine mente! Sic quae dura fuit mors tibi mitis erit. Do as a certain versifier says: 'What you are unable to avoid, bear with a firm mind! Thus death, which was harsh, will be mild for you.109 This sentiment is expressed more than once by al-Muctamid; e.g. in the poems translated by Scheindlin, Form and Structure, on p. 130 ('Submision is the [right] policy . . .') and p. 143 ('Accustom yourself to adversity and look forward to release after it'). 12) Petrus Alfonsi, Disciplina clericalis 44.6 (48.9): Dictum est de quodam philosopho quod per antiquum transiens cimiterium laminam vidit marmoream cuiusdam mortui cineribus superpositam; sed in ea versus inscripti verba sepulti praetereuntibus loquentis exprimebant hoc modo: Tu prope qui transis nee dicis: 'Aveto!' Resiste, Auribus et cordis haec mea dicta tene: Sum quod eris; quod es, ipse fui, derisor amarae Mortis, dum licuit pace iuvante frui. Sed veniente nece postquam sum raptus amicis

108 Scheindlin, Form and Structure, pp. 155-6. The Arabic poem begins: sakkinju'adaka Id tadhhab bihi-l-fikaru. 109 \Valther, Proverbia sententiaeque, no. 26112 reproduces the first line only.

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Atque meis famulis, orba parente domus Me contexit humo deploravitque iacentem Inque meos cineres ultima dona dedit. Inde mei vultus corrosit terra nitorem, Quaeque fuit formae gloria magna iacet. Meque fuisse virum nequeas agnoscere, si iam Ad visum fuero forte retectus humo. Ergo Deum pro me cum pura mente precare, Ut mihi perpetua pace frui tribuat. Et quicumque rogant pro me, comportet in unum, Ut mecum maneant in regione poli. It is told of a certain philosopher that, passing by an ancient cemetery, he saw a marble plaque on top of the ashes of a certain dead person. The verses inscribed on it explained the words of the buried man to passers-by in this way: You who pass by and do not say 'Farewell'! Stop, keep these words of mine in the ears of your heart! I am what you will be: what you are, I was: a mocker of bitter death, while I could enjoy pleasant tranquillity. But after I was snatched by sudden death from my friends and my household, my family, deprived of its father, covered me with earth and wept for me as I lay, and gave the last gifts to my ashes. After that, the earth corroded the splendour of my face, and the great glory of my beauty (such as it was) lies here. You would not recognize me as a man, if now I chanced to be uncovered from the earth and laid open to sight. Therefore, pray to God for me with a pure mind, that He grant that I enjoy perpetual peace. And may He bring together whoever pray on my behalf, that they should remain with me in Heaven. This poem also occurs on its own in MSS Cambridge, Emmanuel College, 38 (s. xii), fol. Iv, Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Clm 518 (s. xv), fol. 180v and ibid., Clm. 3941 (s. xv), fol. 19, Douai, 882, and Turin, Biblioteca Nazionale D. V 29 (s. xiii), fol. 366ra,110 but the Disciplina clericalis could well be the source for these manuscripts. The conceit expressed in the third line is commonly found in Arabic.111 110 H. Walther, Initia carminum ac versuum Medii Aevi posterioris Latinorum (Gottingen 1959) and Erganzungen und Berichtigungen (Gottingen 1969), no. 19501. 111 See E. Hermes, The Disciplina Clericalis, p. 190, n. 160 and Kunitzsch, review of E. Hermes, p. 372.

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13) Gerard of Cremona, Liber Anoe, a translation of cArfb ibn Sacd al-Katib and Rabfc ibn Zayd al-Usquf, The Calendar of Cordoba., ed. R. Dozy and C. Pellat, Le Calendrier de Cordoue (Leiden 1961), p. 7: Et propter illud dixit Leile Alakialia (MS: Alakiaclia) ad Alahazez propterea quod dixit ei: Quid fecit te venire ad nos? Inquit: Vacuitas stellarum et paucitas nubium. The Arabic original may be translated:112 And because of this Layla al-Akhyaliyya replied to al-Hajjaj who asked her 'What made you come to us?': 'The betrayal113 of the stars and the lack of clouds'. The same passage is translated in the Liber regius, ed. J. Samso and J. Martinez Gazquez, in Textos y Estudios sobre Astronomia Espanola en el siglo XIII, ed. J. Vernet (Barcelona 1981), p. 17: Unde legimus quandam matronam ad regem suum victum petituram accessisse et, cum ab eo interrogatur quis earn ad palatium adduxisset, respondisse 'mendacitas114 siderum et paucitas nubium'. 14) Gerard of Cremona, Liber Anoe, p. 43. Et dicit rismator arabicus: 'Quando oritur Fortuna Fortunarum, movetur lignum et leniuntur coria et abhorretur in sole static'. The Arabic original may be translated: The Arabic versifier says (yaqulu sdjf al-carab}: 'when Sacd as-Sucud (one of the anwa3 constellations) rises, the trees begin to grow green, the skins become more soft and one avoids staying out in the Sun."15 Anon., Liber regius, p. 31: De hac Fortuna dicendum est: 'Cum Fortuna Fortunarum oritur, ligna viridia efficiuntur, cutes emolliuntur, radii solis abhorrentur'. 112 The Arabic text (which has survived in only one manuscript) lacks this quotation, which Pellat has restored from the original poem which occurs in Arabic anthologies. 113 The idea is that the stars did not fulfil their promises. Gerard may have read ikhla' ('emptiness') in place of ikhlqf. 114 This word correctly translates ikhlqf. 115 The Arabic text is missing here and on p. 124 where the same saying is repeated (introduced by Gerard with: 'Et dixit rismator eorum'). The Arabic text has been restored from a parallel passage in another kitdb al-anwa', by Ibn al-Banna3. Gerard has apparently misunderstood the Arabic phrase which means 'the trees begin to grow green'.

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15) The anonymous thirteenth-century translator of Liber de significatione cometarum, edited by Lynn Thorndike in Latin Treatises on Comets between 1238 and 1368 A.D. (Chicago 1950), p. 32: Dixit quidam versificator: 'moveas te de loco ubi apparent comete, quamvis sit via nimis angusta, quia, quando apparent, sunt homines in magna angustia'. A certain versifier said: 'You should move away from the place where comets appear, although the way is very narrow (angustus)', because, when they appear, men are in great distress (angustia)."6

116 It is unclear where the quotation ends, but the last phrase would seem to be a gloss or explanation of the verse. The range in meaning of the root 'angust-' in Latin is paralleled in the Arabic root D-Y-Q, which is likely to have been in the original text.

ALCUIN, CARMEN IX AND HRABANUS, AD BONOSUM: A TEACHER AND HIS PUPIL WRITE CONSOLATION Mary Garrison

Toposforschung . . . can be systematically sound, but cannot be systematically complete.1 In Poetic Individuality in the Middle Ages Peter Dronke simultaneously illuminated aspects of a group of remarkable eleventh- and twelfthcentury poetic texts and exemplified a method of literary investigation which began with the most nuanced appreciation of each individual text and yet maintained a dialogue with a central problem in the literary interpretation of Medieval Latin texts: the difficulty of distinguishing topoi and originality, tradition and spontaneity— above all, for works which appear to be isolated or almost without context. If E. R. Curtius's European Literature in the Latin Middle Ages2 can be viewed as a static Linnaean system for the identification and labelling of literary commonplaces, then the methodological advance of Poetic Individuality might be compared to a Darwinian revolution (without being Darwinian per se). Thus besides its luminous characterizations of individual texts, Poetic Individuality can inspire readers of the poetic new departures of an earlier era to appreciate individuality even in the context of imitative poetics. The legacy of a great scholar such as Alcuin, removed from us by over a millennium, can be grasped in a number of ways: through his writings and their reception, through the texts and intellectual methods which he introduced to the curriculum, and of course, through the writings and careers of his students. Two generations after Alcuin, Notker, who had not been taught by him, observed, 'of all his pupils there was not one who did not distinguish himself

' P. Dronke, Poetic Individuality in the Middle Ages: New Departures in Poetry 1000-1150 (Oxford 1970), p. 21. 2 E. Curtius, European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages, trans. W. Trask (London 1953).

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by becoming a devout abbot or a famous bishop.'3 Vir undecumque doctissimus was the verdict of Einhard, who had.4 To trace Alcuin's role in inaugurating a tradition of study of grammar,5 logic, and dialectic,6 or to pursue his influence as an exemplary encyclopedist,7 is to follow one of the high-roads of intellectual history: here Alcuin is demonstrably a pioneer.8 The significance of Alcuin's contribution as a teacher of letter-writing and Latin verse composition, on the other hand, though no less impressive to his contemporaries, has been harder to appreciate.9 Thus, for example, the verse of Alcuin's student Hrabanus has been a target of scholarly opprobrium: Hrabanus recycled his teacher's most lapidary lines liberally, even excessively, to some.10 Yet for Carolingian students, 3 Notker, Gesta Karoli Magni Imperatoris, MGH Scriptorum rerum germanicarum \SRG] n.s. 12 (Berlin 1962), 1.9.; trans. L. Thorpe, Einhard and Notker the Stammerer, Two Lives of Charlemagne (Harmondsworth 1969), p. 101. * Einhard, Vita Karoli Magni ed. G. H. Pertz, G. Waitz, O. Holder-Egger, MGH SRG 25 (Hannover 6th edn, 1911), p. 30, cap. 25, followed by Vincent of Beauvais and Helinand of Froidmont (on which see PL 100, col. 128). A similar phrase had been used by of Varro by both Augustine (he, following Cicero) and Terentianus Maurus (De civ dei vi. 2 (CCSL 47, p. 167); Terentianus Maurus, De litteris, de syllabis, de metris libri HI, ed. H. Keil, Grammatici Latini, VI, (Leipzig 1874), pp. 313-413, at 1. 2846. 5 V. Law, 'The Study of Grammar under the Carolingians' rpt. in her Grammar and Grammarians in the Early Middle Ages (London 1997), pp. 128-153 at pp. 136-137. 6 J. Marenbon, From the Circle of Alcuin to the School of Auxerre (Cambridge Studies on Medieval Life and Thought 15, series 3) (Cambridge 1981). 7 J. Fleckenstein, 'Alcuin im Kreis der Hofgelehrten Karls des Grossen', in Science and Civilization in Eastern and Western Civilization in Carolingian Times, ed. P. Butzer and D. Lohrmann (Basel 1993), pp. 3~21 at p. 18; J. Fleckenstein, 'Uber Hrabanus Maurus: Marginalien zum Verhaltnis von Gelehrsamkeit und Tradition im 9. Jahrhundert' in Tradition als Historische Kraft: interdisziplinare Forschungen zur Geschichte des Jruheren Mittelalters (Festschrift Karl Hauck), ed. N. Kamp and J. Wollasch et al. (Berlin 1982), pp. 204-213. 8 On the way Alcuin's stature and place at court limited others' opportunities for commissions and patronage until his departure to Tours, see M. Garrison, 'The English and the Irish at the Court of Charlemagne' in Charlemagne and his Heritage: 1200 Years of Civilization and Science in Europe (Turnhout 1997), pp. 97-123. 9 The quantity and diversity of manuscript collections of Alcuin's letters is unprecedented since late antiquity and invites comparison with patristic writers; for the manuscript witnesses used by Dummler, see MGH Epistulae IV, pp. 1-14; D. Bullough, 'Alcuin's Cultural Influence: The Evidence of the Manuscripts' in L. Houwen and A. MacDonald, eds. Alcuin of York: Scholar at the Carolingian Court: Proceedings of the Third Germania Latina Conference held at the University of Groningen May 1995 Groningen, 1995 (Groningen 1998) (Germania Latina III, Medievalia Groningana 22), pp. 1-26; for Notker of Sankt Gallen's esteem for Alcuin's letters, see Notker, Das Formelbuch des Bischofs Salomo HI von Konstanz aus dem neunten Jahrhundert, ed., E. Dummler (Leipzig 1857), p. 72. 10 Pejorative judgments on Hrabanus as a poet: E. Dummler, 'Hrabanstudien',

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to spell, pronounce Latin, or compose verse, as Alcuin had (even parroting his) and to employ the new Caroline minuscule (advocated, though apparently not employed, by Alcuin)11 was precisely to express oneself comme il faut. Such scribal and linguistic mastery was essential to the paidiea of the Carolingian world—a world in which, within the space of two generations, a new emphasis on correctness in orthography, script, and textual accuracy had simultaneously transformed both the nature of written documents and the routes to curial and ecclesiastical advancement.12 Literate royal servants, the notaries and chaplains, had sometimes even been laymen until Charlemagne's accession. Henceforward they would be drawn almost exclusively from the ranks of the clergy.13 Latin verse was the privileged koine of this new world. To be able to address a friend or potential patron in classical quantitative feet displayed the formal mastery of the trivium. At the same time, verse was also the medium where the personal met the political—the appropriate form for expressions of panegyric, friendship, flattery and consolation, and occasionally satire and homesickness. It is easy enough to lose sight of the remarkable novelty and suddenness of the

Sitzungsberichte der kbniglich preussischen Akademie der Wissenschqften z.u Berlin 54 (1898 No. 3), pp. 24-42 at p. 25: '[er] plundert. . .'; M. Manitius, Geschichte der Lateinischen Literatur des Mittelalters I (Munich 1911), p. 300; F. Raby, A History of Secular Latin Poetry in the Middle Ages21 (Oxford 1934), p. 225; P. Godman, Poetry of the Carolingian Renaissance (London 1985), p. 43; R. Kottje, 'Hrabanus Maurus' in Die Deutsche Literatur des Mittelalters: Verfasserlexikon 4, ed. K. Ruh (Berlin 1983), cols. 166-97 at p. 175; for a dissenting voice: H. Waddell, The Wandering Scholars (London 1958; first published 1927), pp. 28, 58. " B. Bischoff, 'Aus Alkuins Erdentagen', in his Aiittelalterliche Studien: Ausgewahlte Aufsat^e zur Schriftkunde und Literaturgeschichte II (Stuttgart 1967), pp. 12—19. 12 Hence the fiction of Charlemagne himself as corrector: see K. Neff, Die Gedichte des Paulus Diaconus, kritische und erkldrende Ausgabe (Munich 1908), p. 183 or Notker, Gesta Karoli, 1.3, on Charlemagne as a school inspector, promising rewards to those of satisfactory accomplishments in prose and verse composition. See also R. Wright, Late Latin and Early Romance in Spain and Carolingian France (Liverpool 1982) and id., ed. Latin and the Romance Languages in the Early Middle Ages (University Park PA 1996); R. McKitterick, The Carolingians and the Written Word (Cambridge 1989). 13 On notarial personnel, see D. Bullough, 'Aula Renovata: The Court before the Aachen Palace', in his Carolingian Renewal: Sources and Heritage (Manchester 1991), pp. 123-160 at pp. 124—6; J. Fleckenstein, Die Hojkapelle der Deutschen Konige. I, Grundlegung: Die Karolingische Hojkapelle (Stuttgart 1959); for literature on the dimly knowable individual Baddilo, Pippin's lay drafter of reimprosa and mixed-form documents, see K. A. Eckhardt, Lex Salica: 100 Titel-Text, Germanenrechte Neue Folge, Abteilung Westgermanisches Recht (Weimar 1953), p. 54; K. Polheim, Das Lateinische Reimprosa (Berlin 1925), pp. 94-6.

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Carolingian cultivation of quantitative metre.14 In the middle of the eighth century, it appeared that no one at the papal court had been capable of composing quantitative verse.15 At that time, this skill was also apparently little practised and is scarcely attested in Frankia. Evidence from other regions, too, is meagre. Such sparseness cannot be exclusively due to the accidents of survival.16 Accordingly, there is nothing necessary or predictable about its Carolingian flowering. The contents of the MGH Poetae latini aevi Carolini bear witness to this dramatic expansion. They begin with quantitative verse by the Insular Boniface and a few compatriots, followed by compositions by poets educated in Lombard Italy and a smattering of Frankish book dedications17; then a profusion from the Insular Alcuin and some Irishmen. The culmination is an outpouring by native Franks and Saxons—the first cohort of whom had known or studied with Alcuin—quite literally reams of verse in an ever-increasing variety of metres. Thus here too Alcuin stands at the head of a tradition—but one that has been maligned as monotonously conformist. A by-way rather than a highroad of cultural history?18 Although Carolingian verse is often undeniably traditional, the hallmarks of its traditionalism—an abundance of recycled topoi, commonplaces, hexameter cadences, images, and intertextual borrowings—must be understood as part of a literary and educational culture which prized authority and example, and where both, for the first few generations after the Carolingian reforms, might be closely linked 14 For an overview of the mid-eighth century evidence from various regions, see P. Godman, Poetry of the Carolingian Renaissance (London 1985), pp. 2-4. For a demonstration that the Carolingian cultivation of political poetry began with Charlemagne's Italian exploits of the 770s, that is to say, a decade earlier than the previous scholarly consensus, see D. Schaller, 'Karl der GroBe im Licht zeitgenossischer politischer Dichtung' in P. Butzer et al., eds., Charlemagne and his Heritage, vol. 1, pp. 193-219. 15 MGH Poetae latini aevi Carolini [PLAC] ed. E. Dummler (Berlin 1881) i, pp. 90-91, versus libris saeculi viii adiecti no. 3; on which see W. Meyer, Gesammelte Abhandlungen zur Mittellateinischen Rhythmik, vol. I (Berlin 1905) p. 235 and vol. II (Berlin 1936), pp. 233-4. 16 For a brief survey and literature, see Godman, Poetry, pp. 2~3. 17 MGH PLAC I, pp. 89, 92-98. 18 PLACl-lV (Berlin 1881-1923) eds. E. Dummler, L. Traube, P. von Winterfeld and K. Strecker and PLAC VI, Nachtrage zu den Poetae aevi Carolini ed. K. Strecker and O. Schumann. M. Laistner, Thought and Letters in Western Europe: A.D. 500-900 (London 1931): 'The first impression made on the mind of the reader who peruses the four massive volumes of Carolingian Poetry in the Monumenta Germaniae Historica is inevitably one of fatigued disappointment. . . there is a monotony of conformity to certain models. . .' p. 274.

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to the teaching and personal memories of specific individuals.19 Accordingly, investigating a cluster of poems by a teacher and his intellectual descendants can show that the literary and personal homage implied by imitation need not preclude the poetic expression of widely divergent theological perspectives. The poems in question are Alcuin's poem of consolation to the monks of Lindisfarne after the Viking attack of 793, a consolation poem by Hrabanus Maurus and finally two other brief compositions both epitaphs. Whether Alcuin's Lindisfarne poem20 ever reached those it was intended to console is unknown.21 But it certainly enjoyed some diffusion on the continent, where it came to be incorporated into the lost larger collections of Alcuin's verse.22 It was studied and imitated by Alcuin's student Hrabanus Maurus, and either directly or indirectly, it inspired two further compositions, the epitaphs—one by 19 Hence, perhaps, the demise of larger Alcuin-poetic collections after the tenth century, when memories of Alcuin had faded; see H.-D. Burghardt, Philologische Untersuchungen zu dm Gedichten Alkuins (Diss. phil. Heidelberg 1960), p. 278. Hence too the fact that Alcuin could be recorded in the Grammaticorum 8ux5oicn of the eleventh century as the pupil of Hrabanus! For the text, see W. Berschin, Greek Letters and the Latin Middle Ages from Jerome to Nicholas ofCusa, revised edn, trans. J. C. Frakes (Washington 1988), pp. 123-4. 20 MGH PLAC I, Alcuini carmen ix, pp. 229-235; titled by Duchesne, 'De clade lindisfarnensis monasterii', Quercetanus [A. Duchesne], ed. B. Flacci Albini, sive Alchvvini abbatis, Karoli magni regis, ac imperatoris, magistri opera quae hactenus reperin potuerunt (Paris 1617); in the sole extant manuscript of the poem, MS London, British Library Harley 3685, the poem is transmitted without a tide. Hereafter, the poem will be cited as Alcuin cam. ix, or referred to as 'the Lindisfarne poem.' 21 The sole extant manuscript is MS London, British Library Harley 3685; the last ten lines, which can stand alone as a prayer, are transmitted in MS Vienna Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek 808, a s. viii/ix Alcuin compilation from the circle of Arno. Duchesne's 1617 edition of Alcuin's works relied on the lost St. Berlin collection of Alcuin's poems for its text. Evidence for the transmission of the poem is discussed more extensively in my 'Alcuin's World through his Letters and Verse', from which some other points in the foregoing discussion are derived (diss., Cambridge 1996; forthcoming, Cambridge 2001). See E. Diimmler, 'Die handschriftliche Ueberlieferung der lateinischen Dichtungen aus der Zeit der Karolinger', Neues Archiv 4 (1878), pp. 89-159 at pp. 123-4. Traube undertook a fundamental and exacting study of divergences between the Harley text, the St.-Bertin recension and Hrabanus's adaptations in his 'Karolingische Dichtungen: Aeflelwulf. Alchuine. Angilbert. Rythmen.', in M. Roediger, ed. Schriften z.ur Germanischen Philologie, 1 (Berlin 1888), pp. 60-110. 22 Traube, 'Karolingische Dichtungen', pp. 61 and 109; on the lost collections of Alcuin's verse associated with St. Bertin, and for Leland's notice of a collection, see Traube, op. cit. p. 61 note 1; on the St. Bertin and two originating in Salzburg, see op. cit. Burghardt, p. 269 and 277; Diimmler, 'Die handschriftliche Ueberlieferung', p. 137; Diimmler, MGH PLAC I, pp. 164 (St.-Bertin) and pp. 165-6 on the SalzburgRegensburg collection. On the likelihood that little or none of Alcuin's verse was

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Hrabanus's own student Walahfrid Strabo and another epitaph from Mainz where Hrabanus had served as archbishop (847 X 855).23 Hrabanus's Ad Bonosum is acephalous, but the two epitaphs and Alcuin's carmen ix occur in uninterrupted sequence in Schaller and Konsgen's vast incipitarium—a clue to their close affiliation.24 These connections can be most economically explained by the influence of Alcuin on Hrabanus and subseqently, by the role of Hrabanus as Walahfrid's teacher. Certainly, Hrabanus possessed a collection of Alcuin's verse and he may in addition have transcribed or memorized his teacher's poems while a student.25 On the text-historical rather than the personal level, it is plausible to postulate the availability of a copy of Alcuin's carmen ix at either Mainz or Fulda. If Toposforschung or the study of borrowed phrases and images more generally, is to be 'systematically sound' as well as 'systematically complete', it must illuminate rather than merely enumerate. To cast light on the phase-change accomplished by Alcuin's poetic heirs as they reworked his phrases and images, it may be useful to begin by considering the epitaphs and then move on to an analysis of selected lines and images from the consolation poems by Alcuin and Hrabanus. Though brief and conventional, the epitaphs allow some insight into their authors' response to Alcuin's Lindisfarne poem—if both authors had indeed read it, rather than, say, the later writer copying from Walahfrid, or both from the lost opening of Hrabanus's Ad

available in ninth-century England, see Lapidge, 'Aediluulf and the School of York', in Lateinische Kultur im VII. Jahrhundert: Traube Gedenkschrift, ed. A. Lehner and W. Berschin (St. Ottilien 1990), pp. 161~78 at p. 171 note 48. 23 Hrabanus's poem: MGH PLAC II, ed. E. Diimmler (Berlin 1884), pp. 193-6, carmen 37; the epitaph by Walahfrid (who had studied with Hrabanus at Fulda (826-9)): MGH PLAC II, p. 392, carmen 42; the ninth-century Mainz epitaph: MGH PLAC IV, 2, ed. K. Strecker (Berlin 1923), pp. 1036-8, with the text at p. 1038. 24 D. Schaller and E. Konsgen, Initia carminum latinorum saeculo undecimo antiquiorum (Gottingen 1977), numbers 12273 (Walahfrid, epitaphium Megingoz], 12274 (anonymous epitafion Werdonis), 12275 (Alcuin carmen 9). 25 Traube had conjectured that Hrabanus might have been the sponsor of the exemplar of the lost St.-Bertin collection of Alcuin's verse since the texts of the poems in the collection show many metrical corrections, apparently a ninth-century editor's improvements to the texts otherwise preserved in scattered individual transmission or Einzeluberlieferung (op. cit., p. 61). Burghardt's investigation of the whole St.-Bertin corpus (as preserved in Duchesne's edition) rejected that possibility, demonstrating that the Alcuin poems known to Hrabanus did not derive exclusively from the St.-Bertin collection and were sometimes textually closer to other codices: op. cit, pp. 273-5.

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Bonosum. Yet even if Alcuin's poem does not stand behind both epitaphs, both together effect a change of key on a small strand of Alcuin's literary legacy. This transposition is also consistent with the character of the changes—of wording, tone, and emphasis—which Hrabanus had made when he set about incorporating some of the most memorable lines and images of Alcuin's poem into his own composition for Bonosus. 1. Alcuin, carmen ix Postquam primus homo paradisi liquerat hortos, Et miseras terrae adibat inops26 2. Epitaphium Megingoz (Mainz) Postquam primus homo paradisi gaudia liquit Illius omne genus mors inimica tulit.27 3. Walahfridi [Epitafion] Werdonis Postquam primo homini saevae sententiae mortis iuste ulciscentis venit ab ore dei28

Although numerous Medieval Latin poems begin with the word postquam, and many epitaphs allude to the Fall of Man, these three texts alone begin with the syllables postquam prim-.^ The opening couplet of Alcuin's poem signals a relationship to the Dialogi of Gregory the Great, for it reorders the words of opening of Dialogi IV, a section intended to teach belief in invisible or otherworldly things.30 In the two later texts, Alcuin's narrative, almost bucolic, allusion to the expulsion from the gardens of Eden becomes bitter, compressed and abstract. The gardens are replaced in the Mainz inscription by colourless and intangible gaudia\ expressions evoking the harshness of man's mortal condition are added: mors inimica in the second text, saevae mortis and ulciscentis. . . dei in the third. Together the two embody a harsher and more austere evocation of God, man, and mortality. Of course, one might object that the limited compass of an epitaph simply does not permit any leisurely treatment of the Fall and exilic wanderings. But Alcuin's gardens are of a piece with the honesty 26

Alcuin carmen ix 1 and 2; cf. id. carmen Ixix, intended for inscription in a Bible. MGH PLAC IV, p. 1038, caimans iv, 1 and 2. Another Alcuinian phrase, mentis maturis et annis, from the epitaphium JElberhti, Alcuin carmen ii, MGH PLAC I, p. 207. 28 MGH PLAC II, Walahfridi Strabi carmina, p. 392, carmen xlii. 29 See above, note 24. 30 Remarked by Traube, op. cit., p. 70. 27

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and ethical complexity that run through the corpus of his verse. For Alcuin can affirm that we do love the world, and that it is full of joys and delights, even as he directs himself and others to turn from it.31 He imagines Eden as gardens, heaven, as a joyful reunion of fond familiar faces.32 In other words, the distinctiveness of Alcuin's treatment of the Fall-of-Man, topos (as against the treatments by his heirs here) grows out of his world view, and is enabled, but not determined, by copia verborum. By the same token, the epitaph-poets must be given credit for expressing their own distinctive theological standpoints and emotional reactions. By itself, the requirement for brevity does not imply any particular philosophical perspective. Contrasting Hrabanus's Ad Bonosum with Alcuin's Lindisfarne poem will reveal even more far-reaching discontinuities between the worldviews of the two authors. Of all Alcuin's students, it is Hrabanus Maurus who emerges as the one who followed his master's footsteps most closely: both an encyclopedist and a teacher as Alcuin had been, steeped in Alcuin's ideals, but surpassing his learning.33 Alcuin had given him the nickname Maurus after one of Benedict of Nursia's favourite and most obedient pupils—a sign of special favour. Hrabanus retained the byname throughout his adult life; he would even remind others of the name's Alcuinian origin when explaining his use of 'M' as a self-designation among his source-marks.34 In a touching poem which sometimes precedes Hrabanus's virtuoso Liber sanctae Crucis,35 Hrabanus put words 31

E.g. Alcuin carmen cxxiii, MGH PLAC I, p. 350:7: delicias mundi casso sectabar amore; carmen 23, MGH PLAC I, p. 244:31: nos miseri, cur te Jugitivum mundus amamus. 32 E.g. Alcuin, The Bishops, Kings and Saints of York, ed. P. Godman (Oxford 1982), 11. 1623-5. 33 For the an evocation of Hrabanus's special personal and intellectual connection with Alcuin, see J. Fleckenstein, 'Uber Hrabanus Maurus: Marginalien zum Verhaltnis von Gelehrsamkeit und Tradition im 9. Jahrhundert' in Tradition als historische Kraft: Interdisziplinare Forschungen zur Geschichte des fruheren Mittelalters (Festschrift fur Karl Hauck), ed. N. Kamp and J. Wollasch et al (Berlin 1982), pp. 204-213 at pp. 204-206 for Hrabanus in context and his relationship to Alcuin. '. . . Hraban derjenige, der ihm nach Begabung, Neigung und Leistung am dhnlichsten war. . .', p. 205. 34 On his names, Diimmler, 'Hrabanstudien', pp. 26 7; Fleckenstein, op. cit., p. 205. Garrison, 'The Social World of Alcuin: Nicknames at York and at the Carolingian Court' in Alcuin of York, ed. Houwen and MacDonald, pp. 59-80 at pp. 66 and 72; for Hrabanus's explanation of his source-marks, Hrabani Mauri commentana in libros IV Regum, PL 109, 10. 35 Intercessio Albini pro Mauro, MGH PLAC II, Hrabani carmen i, pp. 159-160; for a discussion, see M. Camillo Ferrari, // 'Liber sanctae crucis' di Rabano Mauro: testoimmagine-contesto (LSLM) 30, ed. P. Stotz (Berlin 1999), p. 11.

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into Alcuin's mouth, making his master intercede in prayer to Saint Martin on his behalf—this, roughly a decade after Alcuin's death. That scene would be illustrated, too. Hrabanus's Martyrologium, which records Alcuin's depositio, is apparently the sole extant evidence for any nearly contemporary liturgical commemoration.36 And finally, Alcuin was remembered more flatteringly in the Annals of Fulda than even the Tours Annals: his temporibus Alcuinus, cognomento Albinus, sanctitate et doctrina clarus habetur?1 This intensive cultivation of filial piety finds it poetic corollary in Hrabanus Maurus's verse, with borrowings, even phrases and whole lines in succession from Alcuin.38 Truly, Alcuin is almost continuously present in Hrabanus's verse as he remained present in Hrabanus's life, even posthumously. Yet Hrabanus was metrically more accomplished; if he borrowed from Alcuin, it was by choice not necessity. As Haefele observed, Alcuin-borrowings are not evenly distributed through Hrabanus's poetic ceuvre: rather, Hrabanus used Alcuin's verse most often and most intensively to former school-friends, fellow Alcuin-fl/Mmm.39 A special idiom then, outdoing or taking on a mantle of authority? Or rather, as befits a man of Hrabanus's monastic dedication and humility: writing comme ilfaut, in a code-language which recalled fellowship, shared experiences and the inspiration of a revered teacher? The answer depends on one's assumptions about amicitia, reverence and auctoritas. In any case, modern judgments on Hrabanus's pillaging and plagiarism had no place in the literary standards of the time, for Hrabanus was sui temporis poetamm nulli secundus in a nearly contemporary entry in the Fulda Annals.40 Alcuin's poem to the Lindisfarne community written after the Viking attack of 793 and titled (by an editor) de mum humanarum vicissitudine

36 J. McCulloh, ed. Hrabani Mauri Martyrologium (Turnhout 1979), (CCSL CM 44), May 19th, line 209, p. 48: depositio domni Alchuuini', for the lack of evidence from other martyrologies, see the testimonia about Alcuin assembled by Froben and reprinted in PL 100, 121-134. 37 F. Kurze, ed., Annales Fuldenses sive Annales regni Francorum orientalis MGH SRG 1 (Hannover 1891), s.a. 794 and PL 100, 121-134 at col. 125 and 127. 38 Dummler, 'Hrabanstudien', p. 25: 'er plundert auch seine Vorganger, wie die lateinische Anthologie, Sedulius und Fortunatus, Columba und Alkvin . . .'. 39 H. Haefele, Decerpsi pollice flores: Aus Hrabans Vermischten Gedichten', in Tradition und Wertung: Festschrift filr Franz Bruholzl zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. G. Bernt, F. Radle, G. Silagi (Sigmaringen 1989), pp. 59—74 at p. 65; positive evaluation of imitation at p. 67. 40 F. Kurze, ed., Annales Fuldenses, s.a. 844.

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et clade Lindisfamensis monasterii^ is neither an elegy nor a lament. It is consolation literature,42 but reaching towards theodicy, seeking to 'justify the ways of God to man'. For the sack of Lindisfarne was as traumatic and inconceivable as the sack of Rome had been. Alcuin would ask 'what safety do the churches of Britain have if St. Cuthbert. . . did not defend his own church?', echoing a doubt that had troubled inhabitants of the Roman Empire after the fall of Rome: quid saluum est, si Roma perit?*3 At Lindisfarne, as at Rome, the daily round would continue after the attack, but old certainties would have been shattered. Alcuin knew the members of the Lindisfarne community well, and may have visited them only months before the attack. Whereas for Alcuin's poem, we have a precise context, but no close literary models, for Hrabanus's, we have a model, Alcuin's poem, borrowed from wholesale, but no secure context. The addressee, Hatto, had been sent with Hrabanus to study with Alcuin, returned with him to Fulda, and where each would eventually serve a term as abbot (822-842 and 842~56 respectively).44 The two remained close friends, and their nicknames (assuming, as is likely, that Hatto's was also Alcuinian) may illuminate their schooldays and friendship. From other examples, we know that Alcuin had had the habit of giving cliques of students similar names.45 Thus, Maurus, Benedict's

41 Froben, torn. 3, vol. 3, p. 238. I discuss the genre and models of the poem and its relationship to related prose letters of 793 in more detail in 'Alcuin's World'. 42 For the study of consolation literature, P. von Moos's Consolatio: Studien z.ur mittellateinischen Trostliteratur iiber den Tod und z.um Problem der christlichen Trauer 4 vols. (Munich 1971-2) is essential, although I cannot agree with his judgment that 'aufs Ganze gesehen, erscheint in der alkuinschen Trostkunst die Trauer kaum je als ein Problem'. In fact, much of Alcuin's work is marked by unresolved grief which can be understood in the perspective of psychoanalytic attachment theory. See N. Leick andM. Davidsen-Neilsen, Healing Pain: Attachemnt, Loss and Grief Therapy, trans. D. Stoner, (London 1991). 43 Jerome (adapting Lucan, Pharsalia V. 274), from his Epistula 123, 1.16, ed. I. Hilberg, Hieronymi Epistolae (CSEL 56), p. 94. Alcuin Epistula 20, MGH Epistulae IV, p. 57: 12-13. 44 MGH SS XIII, Catalogus Abbatum Fuldensium, p. 273; note that the dates of the sojourn with Alcuin at Tours must be revised to include time before Ratgar's abbacy (802-817); see Diimmler, MGH PLAC II, p. 154 and Kottje, 'Hrabanus Maurus', col. 167. On Hatto's dates, see M. Sandmann, 'Die Abte von Fulda im Gedenken ihrer Monchsgemeinschaft', FMS 17 (1983), pp. 393-444 at 411. 45 For examples of other students of similar origin acquiring related names from Alcuin, note the alliterating York classmates Credulus, Calvinus and Cuculus, or the Grecified English lads, Stratocles and Anthropos, and the contrast between those sets of names and the use of the names of saints, discussed in my, 'The Social World', p. 69.

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favourite obedient disciple was a good name for one oblate from Fulda and Bonosus was equally apt for another Prankish oblate. The original Bonosus., a childhood friend and teenage study-companion of Jerome, had been celebrated by Jerome as an exemplar of the ascetic life.46 From these nicknames and the shared monastic and educational background which they imply, we might expect the ninth-century Maurus and Bonosus to share a common language and values; their enduring friendship is attested by Maurus's letters and poems to Bonosus, as well as by the fact that they maintained their friendship after Hrabanus had been forced to give up the abbacy of Fulda in 842, to be succeeded by Hatto.47 The difficulty that prompted Hrabanus to address a poem of consolation to his friend is not specified in the poem, but the troubled history of Fulda in the early ninth century could have provided many occasions. Grumblings during Baugulfs abbacy (779-802)48 were followed by fifteen years of simmering discontent under Abbot Ratgar, known as Monoceros for his obduracy (802-817).49 Ratgar's grandiose construction projects consumed the time and resources of the monastery and led to complaints about insufficient food and clothing, poor treatment of the sick, neglect of the liturgy, restrictions on the monastic duty of hospitality, and, eventually, to royal and episcopal intervention. During these years a plague struck (805 AD) and the community was saddened by more than one secession. Hrabanus's books were confiscated for a spell, inspiring a moving plea for their return.50 While one cannot exclude the possibility that Hrabanus wrote Ad Bonosum as a five-finger exercise for his friend, it would be hard to imagine a time during the years of Ratgar when consolation would not be appropriate—bleak years of want and oppression, perhaps less shattering than a Viking attack, and therefore inviting a different strategy of consolation. 46

Jerome, Ep. 3 (CSEL 54), pp. 12-18; on whom, J. Kelly, Jerome: his Life, Writings and Controversies (London 1975), pp. 7, 10, 18, 29, 45, 75. 47 Sandmann, 'Die Abte', p. 411; McCulloh, Martyrology, p. xix. 48 For Alcuin's stern letter, MGH Epistulae IV, Ep. 250, of 800-801. 49 See the Fulda Catalogus abbatum, MGH SS XIII, pp. 272-4; the Supplex libellus, MGH Epistulae IV, pp. 548-51; J. Semmler, 'Studien zum Supplex libellus und zur anianischen Reform in Fulda', ^eitschrift fiir Kirchengeschichte 69 (1958), pp. 268-298 (Monoceros at p. 290); P. Willmes, 'Exkurs: Zum Reformprogramm Ratgars von Fulda' in his Der Herrscher-'Adventus' im Kloster des jruhmittelalters (Munich 1976) (Munstersche Mittelalterliche Schriften 22), pp. 116-122. 50 MGH PLAC II, Hrabani carmen xl (secession: pp. 204-5) and carmen xx (confiscated books: pp. 185-6).

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Hrabanus's one-hundred and two line poem contains over twentysix reminiscences of Alcuin's poem, including whole lines, couplets, and four-line blocks, largely, but not exclusively Alcuin's most memorable or sententious expressions and images. Yet the underlying views about natural order, God, suffering, and theodicy of each poet are distinct. In Alcuin's poem, the progression of images used to evoke earthly instability and and misfortune shows a clear evolution from meaninglessness and caprice (fatali cursu (line 7), tessera (line 14), impia sors (line 15) casu forte malo (25), through the tragedies of ancient history and current events towards hints of the ultimately Augustinian insight that the secli versatilis ordo (line 99) is normal on earth: hie variat tempus (line 121), even while it is an adumbration of a higher God-given order in the universe. Images of natural (though not always predictable change) at the start of the poem51—weather, thunder, the seasons, day and night, the tides, hint at that order. This awareness of natural change as a token of divine providence, whether indebted to Boethius or Augustine52 prepares the reader for the inevitable exhortations to love the stability attainable only in the heavenly patria. As Alcuin guides the readers to this conversio, he apostrophizes the monks and bishop of Lindisfarne, acknowledging their grief, confusion, and attachment to things of this world.53 Hrabanus, in contrast, evokes no such comforting glimpse of divine order, as a few examples of his adaptation of Alcuin's nature imagery can reveal: Hrabanus: Una dies ridet, casus eras altera plangit Nil fixum quomodo tessera laeta tibi dabit. Aestas clara micat, autumnus conferet umbras, Ver floret gemmis, has fera tollit hiems.54

Alcuin: Una dies ridet, casus eras altera planget (13) Nil fixum faciet tessera laeta tibi (14)

51

See Augustine, De civitate Dei, XII.4. Augustine, ibid, and Boethius, De consolatione phiksophiae IV.vi (providence vs. fate); both known to Alcuin; see P. Courcelle, 'La Survie comparee des 'Confessions' Augustinienne et de la 'Consolation' Boecienne' in R. R. Bolgar, ed., Classical Influences on European Culture 500~1500 (Cambridge 1971), pp. 131-142. 53 Alcuin, carmen ix, 11. 97, 131, 189. 54 Hrabanus, carmen xxxvii, 11. 1—4 (henceforth cited as Ad Bonosum). 52

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Prospera conturbat sors tristibus impia semper Alternis vicibus ut redit unda maris. Nunc micat alma dies, veniet nox atra tenebris, (17) Ver floret gemmis, hiems ferit hocque decus (18)

Here Hrabanus has corrected Alcuin's one-syllable scansion of hiems.55 But he has also transmuted the whole patchwork passage into a darker view of the world. Just as the epitaphs had replaced Alcuin's gardens of Eden with colorless abstract nouns, so here too, Alcuin's acknowledgement of the goodness and beauty in the world—hocque decus—is bleached away into has. There hath passed away a glory from the earth . . . Where is it now, the glory and the dream?'56

By the same token, Hrabanus's winter—-fera . . . hiems—is more savage than Alcuin's. Alcuin's image of beauty blasted is transformed by his favourite student into a fierce winter which carries 'these' off. Hrabanus's omissions are significant too: gone are Alcuin's comforting depicting the alternations of day and night, sea and tides, (Alcuin lines 15-17), subsumed into a recapitulation of the seasons with no hint of reassuring regularity. In the lines that follow the ones quoted above, Hrabanus's preoccupation with decay and decline in nature evokes natural changes almost apocalyptically: rocks dissolve, rivers dry up, crops mature and dessicate. The topos of nature as a stepmother occurs (lege noverca, line 13)—a sinister image at odds with concepts of divine order and the goodness of nature.57 The underlying difference in the two poets' conceptions of natural order is evident in a change of one verb:58

55

Traube, op. cit, p. 76. Wordsworth, 'Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood', stanza 2: 9 and stanza 4: 22. 57 For the saeva noverca, but not the idea, see Alcuin, carmen Ivii, 11. 2, p. 269, Quern subito rapuit saeva noverca suis and Epistula 6, p. 107: 27; cf. Vergil Georgics II, 1. 128 for an occurrence of the words saeva noverca not as nature; R. Green, Seven Versions of Carolinian Pastoral, (Reading 1980) (Reading University Medieval and Renaissance Latin Texts 3) traces the image to the lost De Republica 3 of Cicero; its occurrence there is attested by Augustine (Contra Julianum 4.12.60, PL 44, 767); that the conception of nature as the mother of irrational creatures, but only the stepmother of men was an ancient philosophical notion is suggested by Philo, De posteritate Cainis 162 (Philo II, ed. F. H. Colson and G. W. Whitaker (London 1929)). For Earth as man's foster-mother, see Wordsworth, 'Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood', stanza vi. 58 Traube saw Hrabanus making the line prdgnanter, op. cit., p. 88. Alcuin's use 56

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Alcuin had written: Sic fuit atque fiet secli versatilis ordo (line 99) and Hrabanus: Sic Juit, est et erit saecli uersatilis ordo (line 31)

Fiet fromfio: in a single word Alcuin hints that the changeable order of the world is in fact a created order, and will continue to be ordained in this way; it is essentially the lesson of Augustine's De civitate Dei XII.4 and 5, on the goodness and order of nature even when it does not seem beautiful or convenient to humans. Was the point lost on Hrabanus, or did he simply fail to see consolation in natural change, as his pessimistic evocation of mutability implies? To turn from the contrasting perceptions of natural order to the contrasting views of suffering and theodicy implied in the two poems is to be brought up short against the bleakness of Hrabanus's outlook. Alcuin had asked: Talia, cur, lesu, fieri permittis in orbe ludicio occulto, non ego scire queo (lines 86—6)

His explicit answer had been the theodicy of Job, affirming that we cannot understand suffering and further, taking on the persona of Job: Quapropter cithara plus gemit ecce mea (line 202; cf. lob 30,31: versa est in luctwn cithara mea . . .) and holding Job up as an example: lob exempla dabit victor et ipse tibi (line 218). Hrabanus, in contrast, set the question non ego scire queo in the context of another theological point: Multa quidem patitur sanctorum plebes in orbe, (line 34) ludicio occulto, nee ego scire queo Credo, suos servos quod nullo spreverit aevo Adiuveritque satis, cum sua vota petant.

Suffering, as Hrabanus envisions it and in contrast to Alcuin in the Lindisfarne poem, is an inevitable part of mortal existence, rather than an affront to God's justice and goodness. Thus Hrabanus replaced Alcuin's anguished question Talia cur lesu, fieri permittis in orbe question (line 86) with a basic statement about the ubiquity of suffering—a clue, perhaps, that he was consoling Bonosus for mis-

of the future tense in sententious sayings has sometimes been connected with Old English

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fortunes very different from those of the Lindisfarne familia. Hence, too, Hrabanus's evocation of the physical, corporeal sufferings of the patriarchs, prophets and martyrs,09 culminating in the affirmation: Tantos ergo suos dominus perfene labores Hie voluit, quos ad regna superna vehit.60

Could this evocation of routine bodily suffering correspond to the monks' excessive labours and deprivations endured under Ratgar? The reference to God's servants (servos, line 35), and above all, the prohibition on grumbling,61 unmistakeably evoke the values and the language of Benedictine monasticism. A hint perhaps that Hrabanus is trying to guide his addressee towards two conversions—not just leading Hatto's mind towards God in cherished Alcuinian phrases,62 but also reinterpreting the present sufferings, ordered by the abbot, as willed by God (. . . dominus . . . Hie voluit, lines 79-80); accordingly obedient and ungrumbling acceptance of them must bring heavenly rewards, for the abbot was regarded as holding the place of Christ in the monastery.63 A final clue to the nature of the misfortunes for which Bonosus required consolation can be inferred from two verbal substitions which Hrabanus made to some of the concluding lines of Alcuin's poem. Where Alcuin had written: 'Non est quippe deus poenis culpandis in istis Sed nostra in melius vita ferenda cito Et pia flectenda est precibus dementia nostris, Quatenus a nobis transferal ipse plagas64

Hrabanus substituted: Non est quippe deus plagis culpandis in istis Sed nostra in melius vita ferenda cito 59

Hrabanus, 11. 45-76. Hrabanus, 11. 79-80. 61 Line 83: Murmure iam nullo referamus ad aethera voces; perhaps recalling the injunctions in the Benedictine Rule (RB) about obedience without grumbling: RB 5. 14-19, where various forms of murmurium and murmurare are condemned four times: RB 1980: The Rule of St. Benedict, ed. T. Fry et al. (Collegeville Minnesota 1981), p. 188. 62 For example: Quapropter potius caelstia semper amemus, Et mansura polo, quam peritura solo: Hrabanus, 11. 81-2; Alcuin, 11. 119-120. 63 RB 2.1-3; Sandmann, 'Die Abte von Fulda', p. 394. 64 Alcuin, 11. 231-3; Traube, op. cit., pp. 105-108 with discussion of plaga. 60

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Et pie flectenda est precibus dementia nostris, Quatenus a nobis transferal ille flagra65 Hrabanus corrected Alcuin's faulty scansion of plaga, but his substitutions for poenis and plagas effect a change of perspective too: from punishment/expiation to wounds/afflictions/misfortunes; from wounds/ afflictions/misfortunes to whips or servitude. Can plagae andflagra be interpreted as more consonant with Hrabanus's views on suffering, and with the nature of the difficulties caused by Ratgar? It is easy enough to see how Hrabanus's poem might be seen as a colder and darker take-off of his teacher's, lacking both the personal empathy and the anguished confrontation with the apparent incompatibilty of God's goodness and human suffering that Alcuin had dramatized in his Lindisfarne poem. To the extent that Hrabanus grappled with theodicy at all, it was through Alcuin's aphorisms.66 Hrabanus's vision of nature and man's lot is darker, but less anguished, for he could confidendy assume that God would never spurn his servants (line 35); such easy confidence was not available to Alcuin's addressees.67 Yet precisely these changes of tone and key made the poem apposite for a troubled ninth-century monastery and the fact that they could be expressed through the memorable aphorisms of a revered teacher ensured the poem's suitability for a close friend who would have read and studied those Alcuinian aphorisms with Hrabanus.

65

Hrabanus, 11. 85-89. Hrabanus, 40-41; cf. Alcuin. 11. 89; 95-6; based on Hebrews 12.6: the 'educative theodicy'; see also Zach. 13.9; Sirach 27.6; Prv. 3.12. 66

67 Quid nobis dicendum est, nisi plangendam animo vobiscum ante altare Christi, et dicere: Parce, Domine, pane populo tuo. . . ne dicant pagani, ubi est Deus christianorum, Alcuin, Epistulae 20, to bishop Higbald of Lindisfarne, MGH Epistulae IV, p. 57:8-11.

CRATYLUS MEDIAEVALIS—ONTOLOGY AND POLYSEMY IN MEDIEVAL PLATONISM (TO CA. 1200) Stephen Gersh

What follows here might be described as 'a sketch for an alternative history of medieval Platonism unfolded under the eponym of Cratylus'.1 Cratylus himself was a famous Heraclitean. He is known to us mainly as the character in Plato's dialogue Cratylus who expounds the mimetic theory of language. The following works and editions have been cited in the course of this essay: Anselm of Canterbury: Monol. — Monologion in S. Anselmi Opera Omnia, ed. F. S. Schmitt, Seckau-Rome-Edinburgh 1938-61, vol. 1. Augustine: De dial. - De Dialectica, ed. B. Darrell Jackson, Dordrecht 1975. - De Div. Quaest. LXXXIII = De Diversis quaestionibus LXXXIII, ed. A. Mutzenbecher (CCSL 44A), Turnhout 1975. - De Doctr. Chr. - De Doctrina Christiana, ed. J. Martin (CCSL 32), Turnhout 1962. - De Mag. = De Magistro, ed. W. M. Green (CCSL 29), Turnhout 1970. Bernard Silvestris: In Mart. Cap. = The Commentary on Martianus Capella's De Nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii attributed to Bemardus Silvestris, ed. H. Westra, Toronto 1986. Boethius: De Divis. - Anicii Manlii Severini Boethii De Dwisione Liber, ed. J. Magee, Leiden 1998. - De Trin. = De Trinitate in Boethius, The Theological Tractates, ed. and transl. H. Stewart and E. Rand, Cambridge, MA 1918. - In Isag. ed. I. = In Isagogen Porphyrii Commenta, Editio Prima, ed. G. Schepss and S. Brandt (CSEL 48), Vienna 1906. Calcidius: In Tim. — Timaeus a Calcidio Translatus Commentarioque Instructus, ed. J. Waszink, London and Leiden 1962. Clarembald of Arras: Tract, super De Trin. — Tractatus super De Trinitate Boethii in Life and Works of Clarembald of Arras., by N. Haring, Toronto 1965. Eriugena: Annot. in Mart. = Annotationes in Marcianum, ed. C. Lutz, Cambridge, MA 1939. - Periph. = Periphyseon, PL 122, Paris 1853 (bks. I-V), ed. I. Sheldon-Williams, Dublin 1968-81 (bks. Fill), E. Jeauneau, Dublin 1995 (bk. IV), and E. Jeauneau (CCCM 161-2), Turnhout 1996-7 (bks. I-II). - Vers. oper. Dion., De Div. Mom. = Versio operum Dionysii, De Divinis Nominibus, PL 122, Paris 1853. Hugh of St. Victor: De Unions Corp. et Spir. = De Unione Corporis et Spiritus, PL 177, Paris 1853. - Didasc. — Didascalicon, ed. C. Buttimer, Washington, DC 1939. Isidore of Seville: Etym. — Etymologiae, ed. W. Lindsay, Oxford 1911. Macrobius: Saturn. = Ambrosii Theodosii Marcrobii Saturnalia, ed. J. Willis, Leipzig 1970. - In Somn. Scip. — Ambrosii Theodosii Macrobii Commentarii in Somnium Scripionis, ed. J. Willis, Leipzig 1970.

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The possible methodological approaches to the history of medieval Platonism can be understood by constructing a typology where the main division consists of the 'textual' and the 'doctrinal'. The textual approach to the phenomenon of medieval Platonism can, in its turn, be subdivided into: (1) Examination of the medieval transmission of Plato's dialogues. Here, we are concerned with the ancient Latin translation of the Timaeus forming the basis of Calcidius' commentary, the twelfth-century translations of the Meno and Phaedo by Aristippus, and the thirteenth-century Latin translation of the lemmata in Proclus' commentary on the Parmenides translated by Moerbeke; (2) Study of the medieval commentary on Plato. This consists of one work: the Commentary on the Timaeus of Calcidius mentioned above; (3) Study of the medieval doxography of Plato. This consists of references to the doctrines of 'Plato' and 'the Platonists' in various sources; (4) Examination of later ancient writers influenced by Plato. Among the most important are Cicero in works like the Academics and Tusculan Disputations, the Apuleius of On the Doctrine of Plato and other writings, and Macrobius in the Commentary on the Dream of Scipio. The doctrinal approach to the phenomenon of medieval Platonism is harder to categorize definitively. However, it might be viewed from: (1) the perspective of a single teaching such as the separate existence of universals; (2) the perspective of a plurality of teachings which can, in its turn, be subdivided into: (A) a group of teachings compatible with one another as the separate existence of universals is compatible with the immortality of the human soul, (B) a group of teachings revealing underlying tensions in thought.

Martianus Capella: De Mj.pt. - De Nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii, ed. J. Willis, Leipzig 1983. Plato: Crat. = Cratylus in Platonis Dialogi, ed. J. Burnet, Oxford 1899-1907. Proclus: In Crat. = In Platonis Cratylum Commentaria, ed. G. Pasquali, Leipzig 1908. Thierry of Chartres: Comm. in De Trin. — Commentum in Boethii De Trinitate in Commentaries on Boethius by Thierry of Chartres and his School, ed. N. Haring, Toronto 1971. - Glosa in De Trin. = Glosa in Boethii de Trinitate. ibid. William of conches: Glosae super Macr. = Glosae super Macrobium in The Doctrine of the Trinity in Guillaume de Conches' Glosses on Macrobius, by H. Rodnite, Diss. Columbia University 1972. - Glosae super Plat. = Glosae super Platonem, ed. E. Jeauneau, Paris 1965. 1 Part of this essay was given as a lecture at the Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, Toronto on 8 April 1999. The author is grateful for comments made by members of the audience on that occasion (especially Michael Herren, John Magee, and Brian Stock).

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Considered in terms of this typology, 'Cratylus Mediaevalis' will be a doctrinal study of the history of medieval Platonism from the viewpoint of a plurality of teachings exhibiting tensions in thought. Starting from some of Plato's contributions to understanding the nature of language—perhaps the area of his work whose value is most apparent to late twentieth-century readers—this essay will identify and trace a double legacy until c. 1200. It will articulate Plato's notions of monosemy and polysemy in relation to ontology (Section 1), study the association of monosemy and ontological realism in late antique and medieval thinkers until c. 1200 (Section 2) and examine the association of polysemy and ontological realism in similar late antique and medieval writers (Section 3).2 The double legacy represents both a highly restricted view of language in considering nouns and adjectives but paying little attention to verbs and no attention to other parts of speech, and also a highly developed view in scrutinizing nouns and adjectives exhaustively in terms of their derivation from roots and their figurative applications. It must be admitted that this approach is an unusual one which will inevitably engender criticism from some quarters.3 However, I believe that my procedure has at least two justifications. First, it helps to understand the medieval Platonic tradition as a whole. In the past there has always been some difficulty in relating the main tradition from Boethius to Cusanus which operates within the dialectical (and to a lesser extent grammatical) sector of the trivium and the tradition of certain twelfth-century schools in which rhetorical elements come increasingly to the forefront. An approach to the polysemous component in Platonism allows a reconfiguration of this problematic. Secondly, my procedure helps to relate the medieval Platonic tradition to important tendencies in contemporary thought. One has only to think of the manner in which according to Heidegger and Derrida in particular classical ontology is characterized by the 2 The essay will also unfold Eriugena's notion of monosemy via polysemy in relation to ontology (Section 4). What emerges here cannot, however, be considered typical of medieval Platonism. 3 Some of the conclusions of this essay will be obvious as well as novel. That the obvious has not been perceived hitherto results from the attitude of many historians of philosophy who, although they have been accustomed to considering medieval dialectic, rarely look at the other trivium arts. Literary historians who venture into medieval grammar and rhetoric have been inclined to broader viewpoints. However, it is still surprising how many students of grammar ignore rhetoric and how many students of rhetoric ignore grammar.

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association of being and presence in contrast to the deconstruction of metaphysics where being and presence are ruptured by textual operations. An approach to the polysemous component in Platonism allows a reconfiguration of this problematic also.

Monosemy, Polysemy, and Ontology in Plato

Plato's Cratylus is an attempt to establish a viewpoint regarding the 'correctness of names' which avoids the drawbacks of the position that any name assigned to a thing is correctly imposed (advocated by Hermogenes)4 or else that any name assigned to a thing and accepted by convention is correctly imposed (Socrates' correction of Hermogenes);5 and the position that names have a natural relation with or somehow imitate the things to which they are assigned (endorsed by Cratylus).6 The preferred viewpoint is a mediating one whereby names are chosen whenever possible to resemble things and when not so possible according to convention (outlined by Socrates),7 although this position itself depends on the profounder philosophical theory that one must achieve an understanding of names from things rather than of things from names, and that the things named are in the final analysis transcendent Forms.8 In establishing the mediating viewpoint regarding correctness of names, Plato also elaborates a contrast between two types of words or discourses: the monosemous and the polysemous. Thus, when he undermines Hermogenes' position by proposing an analogy between the distinguishing power of a word/name and the separating function of a shuttle,9 or Cratylus' position with a demonstration that a word/name is only effective if assigned to a stable object,10 he pre-

4

Plato: Crat. 384d. The most interesting commentary on the Cratylus to date is that of Proclus who also argues for a mediation between Hermogenes' and Cratylus' positions. The mediation consists of a divine naming which is assigned to a thing (from the divine viewpoint) and natural to the thing (from the human viewpoint) (In Crat. 51-53). Proclus' discussion of the divine origin of names anticipates the patristic and medieval theory to be considered in section 4, although the Proclean Greek text was absolutely unknown during the western medieval period. 5 Ibid. 387d-391a. 6 Ibid. 383e. 7 Ibid. 428d-435c. 8 Ibid. 438e-440e. 9 Ibid. 388a-391a. 10 Ibid. 385e-387d.

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supposes language's goal of non-ambiguity and monosemy. But when he develops Cratylus' position by investigating how a word/name can be separated into its constituent syllables each of which has a different meaning or referent associated with it,11 he also acknowledges language's capacity for ambiguity and polysemy. Moreover, in elaborating the contrast between two types of words or discourses, Plato reveals a conceptual linkage with two doctrines central to his philosophy: that of Forms and that of images. For example, in developing the analogy with the shuttle and the demonstration about stable objects, he explicitly connects the monosemy of words and discourse with the intelligible realm of Form,12 and in investigating names through etymological analysis, he equally explicitly connects the polysemy of words and discourse with the realm of the sensory image.13 In summary, the Cratylus establishes that there is between monosemy and polysemy a disjunction—equivalent to or overlapping with the usual Platonic dichotomies of being and becoming, truth and falsehood, intelligible and sensible, universal and particular—which is radical in nature. This disjunction forms a conceptual framework which recurs in medieval Platonism. The text of the Cratylus itself was not available during the Middle Ages. Nevertheless, its essential teaching was transmitted through a variety of grammatical and philosophical texts to the medieval world. Since it is clearly not possible to attempt a full reconstruction of this transmission here, we shall be content to mention as examples of linguistic discussion in late antiquity paralleling the argumentative strategy of Plato's Cratylus Augustine's theory of verbal signification and Priscian's techniques of derivation and composition. Plato's argument for the non-ambiguity and monosemy of language is taken up in almost identical terms by Augustine's On the Teacher. In brief, this text argues regarding signs in the specific sense of words the theses that (i) The important issue is the relation between 'words' (verba] and 'things' (res); (ii) Things are superior to words because that for the sake of which something exists is superior to that which exists for the sake of something else, while a thing is an example of the former and a word is an example of the latter; 11

Ibid. 39Id ff. Ibid. 389a-e. Ibid. 423b, 430b (mimema), 424b, 427b (mimesis), 43Id, 432d (eikon), 434a (homoioma). 12

13

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(iii) There are two levels of thing: the intelligible and the sensible; (iv) From things we learn about the 'meaning' (significatio) of words, but from the meaning of words we do not learn about things; (v) There are two kinds of teacher: the divine and the human, the divine being Christ who dwells in the human soul; and (vi) The divine teacher instructs us regarding the meaning of words via intelligible things, while the human teacher instructs us regarding the meaning of words via sensible things.14 The import of Augustine's argument for our discussion might be summarized by saying that the issue is one of connecting words with either intelligible or sensible objects in a monosemous discourse. The issue of connecting words with other words is present yet emphasized less. Plato's description of the ambiguity and polysemy of language is reflected in the numerous etymological discussions of Priscian's Grammatical Institutions.13 However, in order to grasp the relation between polysemy and etymology in this work we must perhaps distinguish (A) descriptive aspects of grammatical theory in which the polysemy of words is displayed: thus, an argument establishing the relation between a word and its etymon involves the display of two meanings, and one establishing the relation between a word and several possible etyma involves the display of three or more meanings; (B) normative aspects of grammatical theory where the polysemy of words is reduced either by relating language to itself—for example, where the 'correct' meaning of a word is established by attending to morphological similarities with other words—or by relating language to reality.16 14

Augustine: De Mag. 2, 3-4; 9, 25 ff. The two studies of Augustine's theory of signification which have become classics are R. Markus, 'St. Augustine on Signs', Phronesis 2 (1957), 60-83 and B. Jackson, 'The Theory of Signs in St. Augustine's "De Doctrina Christiana"', Revue des etudes augustiniennes 15 (1969), 9—49. |D M. Amsler, Etymology and Grammatical Discourse in Late Antiguity and the Early Middle Ages (Amsterdam 1989), pp. 76-7 cites a number of relevant examples in Priscian. Cf. op. cit, pp. 69-70 for parallel examples in his predecessor Pompeius. 16 What modern linguistics would call the 'descriptive' and 'normative' aspects of grammatical study were not explicitly distinguished by its ancient theorists, and indeed the unwillingness to make such a distinction sustained the controversy lasting many centuries between the 'anomalist' and 'analogist' interpretations of language. On this question see R. Robins, Ancient and Mediaeval Grammatical Theory in Europe, With Particular Reference to Modern Linguistic Doctrine (London 1951), pp. 15-16 and p. 16, n. 2. Cf. R. Robins, A Short History of Linguistics (London 2nd. ed., 1979), pp. 20-22.

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The import of Priscian's argument for our discussion might be summarized by saying that the issue is one of connecting words with other words or with objects in polysemous discourse. The issue of connecting words with either intelligible or sensible objects is present yet emphasized less.17

Monosemy and Ontology in Medieval Platonism The doctrine that there are intelligible Forms which constitute the foundation of monosemous discourse is prominent in medieval philosophy before c. 1200. However, its history during the period is somewhat difficult to trace without the realization that it occurred in two versions tenable either together or separately.18 According to the first version of the theory, Forms exist as thoughts in God's mind. These are the indirect descendants of Plato's cosmological Forms and include the transcendent principles of natural species like man and horse, and of the physical elements earth, air, fire, and water. Augustine describes these at question 46 of his On Eighty-Three Different Questions as 'Ideas' (ideae), 'forms' (formae), 'species' (species), and—with a caution that they should not be confused with the Greek physical logoi—as 'reasons' (rationes}. Ontologically speaking, the Ideas are themselves not formed by a higher principle; they have neither generation nor destruction; they are contained in the divine intellect; they are truly existent; they are self-identical; and

'' For a survey of etymological discussion in ancient grammatical texts until Priscian see E. Wolfflin, 'Die Etymologien der lateinischen Grammatiker', Archiv Fur Lexicographic und Grammatik 8 (1892), 421-40 and 563-85; G. de Poerck, 'Etymologia et origo a travers la tradition latine' in Anamnesis, Gedenkboek EA. Leemans (Bruges 1970), pp. 191-228; M. Amsler, op. cit., pp. 24-31, 59-82. Although not a major element in Aelius Donatus' grammatical writings, etymological discussion seems to have become increasingly the preoccupation of Donatus' successors and commentators. The more philosophical implications of those etymological procedures in which polysemy is displayed or reduced emerge clearly in Pompeius and Priscian. On these questions see: M. Baratin, and F. Desbordes, L'analyse linguistique dans I'antiquite classique I: Les theories (Paris 1981), pp. 62-4; M. Baratin, 'Grammaticalite et intelligibilite chez Priscien', Materiaux pour une histoire des theories linguistiques, ed. S. Auroux, etc. (Lille 1984), pp. 155-62; M. Amsler, op. cit., pp. 68-82. 18 On the two versions of the doctrine of intelligible Forms and on the fusion of the two versions see S. Gersh, Middle Platonism and Neoplatonism, The Latin Tradition, I (Notre Dame, IN. 1986), pp. 403-13; Idem, From lamblichus to Eriusgena (Leiden 1978), pp. 152-67; Idem, Concord in Discourse (Berlin 1996), pp. 69-73.

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they are sources of form to the lower realities. From the epistemological viewpoint, these Ideas are perceived by a soul that is similar to them; or by the rational part of the soul in particular.19 The same theory is stated by Calcidius, Macrobius, and Martianus Capella in each case, however, combined with other metaphysical notions. In Calcidius' Commentary on Plato's Timaeus20 we read of three principles: God—representing the active principle in the world—Matter— representing the passive principle in the world—, and the 'paradigm' (exemplum) to which God looks in producing physical things. In Macrobius' Commentary on the Dream of Scipio2} it is rather a question of three levels of monad: first, there is God; secondly, there is his Intellect or Mind which is generated from him—this produces from itself innumerable 'species of genera' (generum species), and also contains the latter within itself undividedly—; and thirdly, there is Soul. In Martianus Capella's Marriage of Philology and Mercury112 we again read of three principles: the monad—corresponding to Jupiter in the divine sphere—, the dyad—corresponding to Juno in the divine sphere—, and the triad associated with the 'ideal Forms' (ideales formae). According to the second version of the theory, Forms exist as attributes of God. Some of these are indirect descendants of the attributes of the Forms in general according to Plato: for example, the Being, Life, and Intellect which are the transcendent principles of existing, living, and intellective things; others are indirect descendants of Plato's moral and aesthetic Forms: for example, the Goodness and Beauty which are the transcendent principles of good and beautiful things. Ps.-Dionysius calls these the 'names' (nomina) or 'processions' (processiones] of God in his On Divine Names as translated by Eriugena. Ontologically speaking, the names enjoy the ambivalent status of being both unified and distinct in relation to one another— all these principles are eternal and existent although Eternity and Existence are included among the principles—and also of being both

19

Augustine: De Div. Quaest. LXXXIII, qu. 46. Calcidius: In Tim. 307, 308:11-309:2. 21 Macrobius: In Somn. Scrip. I. 6, 8-9. 22 Martianus Capella: De Nupt. VII. 731-3. In actual fact, the presentation of the theory of Forms in Calcidius, Macrobius, and Martianus Capella (which follows the doxographies) differs from the presentation in Augustine (which combines Cicero and Plotinus). For details see Gersh, Middle Platonism and Neoplatonism I, pp. 241—50, 411-13. 20

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separate from and contained in things subsequent to the transcendent. From the epistemological viewpoint, these names have the ambivalent status of being both non-intelligible and intelligible or, more precisely, both supra-intelligible and intelligible to the human mind.23 A similar doctrine is stated in Boethius' On the Trinity in response to certain suggestions of Augustine, although the transcendent principles are now interpreted according to the Aristotelian categories. Ontologically speaking, these 'substantial categories' (praedicamenta, praedication.es secundum rerri) enjoy the ambivalent status of being both unified and distinct in relation to one another—such principles are all substantial although substance is included among the principles—and also of being both predicated of and not predicated of things subsequent to the transcendent. From the epistemological viewpoint, the substantial categories have the ambivalent status of being both conceivable and not conceivable in terms of substance.24 During the medieval period, these two versions of the theory of Forms are fused into one by Eriugena. His Periphyseon divides universal nature into four species: that which is not created but creates, that which is created and creates, that which is created but does not create, and that which is not created and does not create. The second species comprises the totality of 'primordial causes' (causae primordiales) which are equivalent both to thoughts in God's mind and to the attributes of God.25 Eriugena depends equally on the ps.Dionysian and on the Augustino-Boethian presentation of the divineattribute component. The two versions of the theory of Forms recur less closely united in Anselm of Canterbury. His Monologion attempts to demonstrate rationally that a supreme principle exists as both formal and efficient cause of the visible world. In establishing the former, he refers to the thought in God's mind as an 'exemplar' (exempluni), 'form of things' (forma rerum), or 'primal essence' (principalis essentid) and in establishing the latter, to the attribute of God as the 'x-through-itself' (per seipsum . . .), the 'supreme x' (summum . . .), etc.26 Anselm is dependent primarily on the Augustino-Boethian presentation of the divine-attribute component. Also during the medieval 23 24 23 26

Eriugena: Versio operum Dionysii, De Div. Nom., 1152 D ff. Boethius: De Trin. 4. Eriugena: Periph. II. 615D ff. Anselm of Canterbury: Monol. 1-4, 9-10, 33.

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period, the two versions of the theory of Forms are fused into one by William of Conches. His Commentary on Plato's Timaeus27 by applying three of the Aristotelian four causes to the first principle who is efficient cause of all things as Being, formal cause of all things as Wisdom, and final cause of all things as Goodness introduces the attributes of God, and by further describing the second Aristotelian cause as Mind containing the 'archetypal world' (archetipus mundus) introduces the thoughts in God's mind. William is dependent primarily on the Augustino-Boethian presentation of the divine-attribute component. In studying the late antique and medieval versions of the classical theory of Forms, one clearly sees that their primary function as the ontological foundation of monosemous discourse is beginning to be compromised. Thus, to speak of man as (a) a thought in God's mind and (b} a spatio-temporal entity, or else to speak of life as (a] an attribute of God and (b} as something spatio-temporal, is tantamount to using these terms in both figurative and non-figurative senses and thereby admitting a certain polysemy into them. The problem is recognized to varying degrees by Augustine and his successors.

Polysemy and Ontology in Medieval Platonism

The doctrine that there is a polysemous discourse whose foundation is constituted by verbal images is also prominent in medieval philosophy before c. 1200. Its history during this period is difficult to trace because the relation between polysemy and the image is often assumed rather than stated; and because the polysemy itself occurs in a multitude of forms not easily reducible to simple categories. Of course, the vagueness and instability of presentation in medieval texts is not inconsistent with the character of polysemy itself. What follows is an attempt to classify this phenomenon along broad lines. Boethius' On Division provides a general articulation of polysemy. Here, polysemy is termed 'division of the utterance' (divisio vocis) and articulated into a number of classes and sub-classes: division (1) 'into several meanings' (in significationes plures), subdivided into (A) 'equivocation' (aequivocatio] where a single word (a noun) has several mean-

William of Conehes: Glosae super Plat. 32, 98-9.

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ings or referents, (B) 'ambiguity' (amphibolia) where a combination of words (noun(s) and verb(s)) has several meanings or referents but more precisely where this combination has only two meanings or referents; (2) 'according to manner' (secundum moduni) where a word (an adjective) has a meaning or referent which varies according to the presence of words with other meanings or referents; (3) 'according to determination' (secundum determinationem) where a single word (a noun) has an undetermined meaning or referent.28 This division of polysemy is remarkable for linking semantics and ontology in that a plurality of meanings usually parallels a plurality of referents; for the conventionalist view of language implied in his views that the imposition of a single word may be the only basis for connecting different meanings, and that the range of meanings in one word may be different from the range of meanings in the equivalent word of a foreign language; and for linking semantics and morphology in that a plurality of meanings may be reduced by supplying case-endings, indications of gender, pronouns, etc.29 From Boethius we turn to the late ancient and early medieval tradition in general:—30 28 Boethius: De Divis. 877D-878A, 888D ff. Boethius' On Division is perhaps the fullest although certainly not the only discussion of polysemy in late antiquity. Among other treatments might be mentioned: the analysis of synonymy, homonomy, and paronymy in the commentary tradition on Aristotle's Categories; discussions of verbal signs in Augustinian works other than De Magistro mentioned earlier; and the account of various figures of speech and figures of thought in the anonymous Ad Herennium. The Augustinian understanding of polysemy in particular might be reconstructed by combining two principal texts: 1. De Dialectica 8-10 where words are distinguished as A1 obscure and A2 ambiguous, B1 separate and B2 combined, C 1 spoken and C2 written, and D' univocal and D2 equivocal. Although the role of B2 is not stated clearly, the last three pairs are handled as subdivisions of A2; 2. De Doctrina Christiana II. 10. 15, III. 1. 1 where (verbal) signs are distinguished as A' unknown and A2 ambiguous, and B1 literal and B2 figurative. The second pair is treated as a subdivision of either A1 or A2. 29 For further discussion of this passage see J. Magee, Anicii Manlii Severini Boethii De Divisione Liber, Critical Edition, Translation, Prolegomena and Commentary (Leiden 1998), pp. 72-4, 154-64. 30 Given that the texts mentioned below seemingly did not function as a coherent body of material employed in the discussion of polysemy during the early Middle Ages, we can perhaps allow ourselves to classify the phenomena to be studied during the next few pages in an altogether simpler manner. We shall therefore employ the distinction established by the modern tradition of linguistic theory stemming from Saussure and Hjelmslev between an 'expression' or 'signifier' on the one hand and a 'content' or signified on the other. Here, the expression/signifier is the phonetic or written material of a word—more precisely, the mental image of the latter—whereas the con tent/signified is the meaning intended by the employer of the

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A first major species of polysemy might be termed 'polysemy of expression and content.' In this case, there is within a word a differentiation on the side of the signified—i.e. the meanings or referents—together with a differentiation on the side of the signifier. This is the polysemy of etymological analysis which can be traced back to Plato's Cratylus. In a sub-species of this polysemy, the relations between different meanings or referents are unmotivated although those meanings or referents are conceived as properties of a single extra-linguistic object. A passage of Macrobius' Saturnalia illustrates this by analysing the name 'Apollo' in order to reveal its application to the sun. According to various authorities, the name designates something which casts rays (apopallein — 'to throw'), or else a being separate from the many forms of fire (a — 'not' + pollon — 'many'), or else a being containing the many forms of fire (apo — 'from' + pollon = 'many'), or else something which rises in different places (ap} allon kai allon - 'from some and from others'), or else something which rotates (anapolein 'to go round'), or else a being of destructive character (apollumi - 'I destroy').31 Exploitation of this type of polysemy became very common during the Middle Ages under the influence of Isidore of Seville's Etymologies. Examples can be found in Eriugena's Commentary on Martianus32 and Bernard Silvestris' Commentary on Martianus Capella.33 In another sub-species of this polysemy, the relations between different meanings or referents are motivated although those meanings or referents are not connected as properties of a single extralinguistic object. A passage of Augustine's On Dialectic illustrates this by describing the Stoic linguistic theory. According to this school, although most modern words are not connected onomatopoeically with their meanings or referents, the ancient words were connected in this way. One must therefore postulate a linguistic evolution signifier. For reasons which will become apparent in the final section of this essay, there are definite advantages in applying a model which is at least in relation to medieval texts historically neutral. For application of the Saussurian-Hjelmslevian theory see R. Barthes, Elements of Semiology, transl. A. Lavers and C. Smith (London 1967), pp. 101-20; for criticism see U. Eco, A Theory of Semiotics (Bloomington, IN. 1976), section 2. 1-2. 4, etc. 31 Macrobius: Saturn. I. 17, 7-9. On the polysemous discourse of Macrobius see P. Dronke, Fabula, Explorations into the Uses of Myth in Medieval Platonism, Leiden 1974, pp. 13-55. 32 Eriugena: Annot. In Mart. 1. 26-7, 9. 15-10. 3. 33 Bernard Silvestris: In Mart. Cap. 5, 764-776.

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whereby new words were derived from the old words (a) by similarity (e.g. crux -*• crura through shape), or (b) by contiguity (e.g. piscis -*• piscina through relation to water), or (c) by contrariety (e.g. lucere ~+ lucus through presence vs. absence of light). Analysis can trace this evolution in reverse, finding the original meaning or referent onomatopoeically connected and the current one not so connected with the same word.34 The theory is also stated in Isidore of Seville's Etymologies.35 A second major species of polysemy might be termed 'polysemy of content.' Here, there is within a word a differentiation on the side of the signified—i.e. the meanings or referents—without a differentiation on the side of the signifier. This is the polysemy of figurative discourse which can be traced back to Plato's Republic and Timaeus. This species of polysemy may be analysed from one viewpoint— 'horizontally'—by distinguishing single terms having primary and secondary meanings or referents from combined terms having primary and secondary meanings or referents. A good theoretical presentation occurs in Macrobius' Commentary on the Dream of Scipio. Here, it is argued that figurative language can be articulated into various classes according to the nature of its primary and secondary meanings or referents. The most important are (1) Single terms = nouns having a primary referent or meaning which is (a) conceivable or expressible and (b} true, and a secondary referent which is (a) not conceivable and not expressible and (b} true. This is called a 'similitude' (similitudo), and is instanced by employment of the word 'sun' to designate both a heavenly body and the transcendent Good. (2) Combined terms = nouns + verbs where (i) the nouns have a primary referent or meaning which is (a) conceivable or expressible and (b) true, and a secondary meaning or referent which is (a) conceivable or expressible and (b) true; and ii. the verbs have a primary meaning which is (a) conceivable or expressible and (b} fictitious, and a secondary meaning or referent which is (a) conceivable or expressible and (b} true. This is termed a 'fabulous narration' (narratio fabulosa), and is illustrated by Cicero's employment of an extended discourse to designate the Roman statesman's dream and

Augustine: De Dial. 6. 8, 27 ff. Isidore of Seville: Etym. I. 29.

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the fabrication of the world soul.36 The whole discussion is remarkable first, for distinguishing terms which are nouns and terms which are verbs and secondly, for distinguishing terms which have meanings only, terms which have meanings or referents, and terms which have referents only in parts of their semantic fields. It is developed further by William of Conches' Commentary on Macrobius57 and Bernard Silvestris' Commentary on Martianus Capella.™ This polysemy may be analysed from another viewpoint by distinguishing single terms having a plurality of meanings or referents from pluralities of terms having a single meaning or referent. Bernard Silvestris' Commentary on Martianus Capella illustrates the former—which he calls 'equivocation' (aequivocatid)—with application of the name 'Juno' to both the air and the practical life, and the latter—which is called 'multivocation' (multivocatio]—with application of the names 'Jupiter' and 'Anchises' to God.39 This approach to polysemy seems not to have been elaborated so consciously or extensively before the early twelfth century. This polysemy may be analysed from a third viewpoint—'vertically'—by distinguishing single terms having primary and secondary meanings or referents from single terms having primary and secondary meanings or referents which latter are themselves single terms having primary and secondary meanings or referents. William of Conches illustrates the first in his Commentary on Plato's Timaeus with the term 'world soul' designating the psychic substance and also a spirit immanent in things,40 and the second in his Commentary on Macrobius with the name 'Bacchus' designating the Olympian god and the psychic substance whose name 'world soul' designates the psychic substance and the spirit immanent in things.41 This approach to polysemy likewise seems not to have been elaborated at length before the early twelfth century. Polysemy of content in general was sometimes described with its own terminology. An 'enwrapping' (involucruni) was a polysemous term occurring in any text, a 'covering' (integumentum) such a term occurring in a secular text, and an 'allegory' (allegoria) such a term occur36 37 38 39 40 41

Macrobius: In Somn. Scip. I. William of Conches: Glosae Bernard Silvestris: In Mart. Ibid. 2, 93-113. William of Conches: Glosae William of Conches: Glosae

2, 1 ff. super Macr. I. 2, 1 ff. Cap. 2, 78-92. super Plat. 71, 144-5. super Macr. I. 12, 12 ff.

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ring in a scriptural text. For a number of examples one may consult Bernard Silvestris' Commentary on Martianus Capella.*2

Monosemy via Polysemy in Medieval Platonism A combined doctrine that there are intelligible Forms which constitute the foundation of monosemous discourse, that there is a polysemous discourse whose foundation is constituted by verbal images,43 and that the intelligible Forms can under certain circumstances coincide with the verbal images occurs in one philosophical work composed before c. 1200. The work is Eriugena's Periphyseon which has already been cited for its remarkable tendency to fashion doctrinal syntheses like that comprising the Augustinian theory that intelligible Forms exist as thoughts in God's mind and the ps.-Dionysian theory that intelligible Forms exist as attributes of God. The relevant passage speaks of Goodness and Beauty in connection with the doctrine that there are intelligible Forms which constitute the foundation of monosemous discourse in its second version whereby Forms exist as attributes of God. We must therefore understand Goodness and Beauty as ps.-Dionysian 'names' of God which, ontologically speaking, enjoy the ambivalent status of being both unified and distinct in relation to one another and also of being both separate from and contained in things subsequent to the transcendent; and which, from the epistemological viewpoint, have the ambivalent status of being both non-intelligible and intelligible or, more precisely, both supra-intelligible and intelligible to the human mind.44 The same passage also speaks of Goodness and Beauty in connection with the doctrine that there is a polysemous discourse whose foundation is constituted by verbal images in its first major species: polysemy of expression and content whereby there is within a word a differentiation on the side of the signified—i.e. the meanings or referents—together with a differentiation on the side of the signifier; 42

Bernard Silvestris: In Mart. Cap. 2, 70 ff. The classification of etymological methods proposed by R. Klinck, Die lateinische Etymologie des Mittelalters (Miinchen 1969), pp. 45~70 also casts light on the problems of polysemy. This classification has the advantage of being closely based on ancient grammatical terminology, the disadvantage of having inadequate means for exhibiting the polysemous processes in detail. 44 Eriugena: Periph. II. 580C-581A. 43

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and in the first subspecies of that polysemy whereby the relations between different meanings or referents are unmotivated although those meanings or referents are conceived as properties of a single extra-linguistic object. Thus, Eriugena speaks of 'bonitas' as designating goodness (bonitas) and that which calls (boo = 'I call') created things from non-existence into existence; and also of 'kalon' as designating beauty (kalon) and that which calls (halo — 'I call') created things from non-existence into existence. Although the style of argumentation parallels the earlier etymological interpretation of Biblical names in general and God's names in particular by Origen, Jerome, ps.-Dionysius, and Isidore of Seville,45 Eriugena's discussion in this text of Periphyseon adds at least three further levels of complication. First, the combination of the two interpretations means that the first subspecies mentioned above converts into that other subspecies whereby the relations between different meanings or referents are motivated although those meanings or referents are not connected as properties of a single extra-linguistic object. The motivation of the relation results from the similarity of boo and kalo, and the disconnection of the meanings or referents from the unity in distinction of the divine names. Secondly, when each of the interpretations is considered separately, the first major species of polysemy: that of expression and content converts into the second major species: polysemy of content. That there is within a word a differentiation on the side of the signified—i.e. the meanings or referents—without a differentiation on the side of the signifier: a semantic configuration association with this species of polysemy, follows from the manner in which names like Goodness and Beauty are applied to their object(s): literally in the case of created things and metaphorically in the case of the Creator. Third, the combination of the two interpretations means that the first subspecies mentioned earlier again converts into that other subspecies whereby the relations between different meanings or referents are motivated although those meanings are not connected as properties of a single linguistic object. The motivation of the relation results from the contiguity of bonitas to kalon, and the disconnection of the meanings or referents from the unity in distinction of the divine names. 43 For a selection of relevant texts from these authors see Amsler: op. cit., pp. 84-5, 94—6, 111 ff., 149-51. In the medieval period Eriugena is here anticipated by Bede and especially Hrabanus Maurus. See Amsler, op. cit., pp. 185, 195 7.

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But how do the doctrines that there are intelligible Forms which constitute the foundation of monosemous discourse, and that there is a polysemous discourse whose foundation is constituted by verbal images combine? A later passage in Periphyseon dealing with the primordial causes—which coincide with the divine names—suggests the answer. From this we discover that such transcendent principles have neither multiplicity nor order in themselves, but receive this multiplicity and order through the action of the human intellect in striving to comprehend the Godhead. On the other hand, the transcendent principles are not totally without order and multiplicity themselves.46 Now Eriugena combines the assumption that the unfolding of the divine names or primordial causes in both dependent on and independent of the finite intellect with the further assumption that the unfolding of such names and causes corresponds to a linguistic mode of expression. This combination is possible because the relation of simultaneous dependence and independence between divine and human facilitates the transfer of properties such as that of linguistic expression from the latter to the former. It is therefore relatively natural for Eriugena to conclude that the unfolding of the divine names or primordial causes represents a process which is not only creative and intellectual but also verbal, hermeneutic, and etymological. Although there is one other text in Periphyseon treating divine names and several others dealing with Biblical names in the etymological manner,47 perhaps only the passage discussed above represents a genuine fusion of the monosemous and polysemous traditions of Platonism. Moreover, Eriugena was in all likelihood alone in following a path which leads more towards the Heideggerian utterance of Being than towards the ps.-Dionysian negative theology. We should therefore retain our original view of the medieval Platonic tradition as comprising the purely monosemous and the purely polysemous tendencies only, the solitary attempt at fusion in the Periphyseon remaining as something of a historical curiosity.48

46

Eriugena: Periph. III. 622A-625A. Cf. ibid. I. 452B-C, V. 1003 B-D, etc. For further discussion of Eriugena's etymological theory of divine names and the broader semiotic context which it implies see S. Gersh, 'Eriugena's Ars Rhetorica' Theory and Practice', lohannes Scottus Eriugena, The Bible and Hermeneutics, ed. G. van Kiel, C. Steel, J. McEvoy (Leuven 1996), pp. 261-78; S. Gersh, 'John Scottus Eriugena and Anselm of Canterbury' in Routledge History of Philosophy III: Medieval Philosophy, ed. J. Marenbon (London 1998), pp. 124-49. 47

48

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Conclusions But since even the double legacy of Plato's linguistic theory described in this essay does not represent the essence of medieval Platonism but rather a fault line running through that tradition, we are perhaps left to conclude our survey with more questions than answers. Preeminent among these questions is the following: Why have the texts selected spoken of objects of monosemous discourse rather than of monosemy itself, but spoken of polysemy itself rather than of the 'objects' of polysemous discourse? The answer seems to be that Platonism, given its unwillingness to content itself with purely linguistic modes of explanation, always seeks to connect discourse with some object. But although an object can easily be correlated with a monosemous word—hence the theory of universal Forms—it is more difficult to correlate an object with a polysemous word. Speaking abstractly, the options available to Platonists are (1) to associate polysemous words with a plurality of objects. The solution is unattractive since, by permitting a radical disjunction between linguistic and real form, it weakens the foundations of their system; (2) to associate polysemous words with single objects which exhibit a certain variegation or mutability. The solution is more acceptable, especially since a range of choices for such objects is presented by the Platonic tradition itself. It is unclear whether medieval Platonists pursued arguments of this kind to their logical conclusions. However, there is some evidence in twelfth-century texts that it was the faculty of 'imagination' (imaginatio) which provided the correlative objects of polysemous words. For example, Thierry of Chartres' Commentary on Boethius' On the Trinity speaks of the imagination as that faculty whereby the soul utilizes a rarefied spirit present in the phantastic cell of the brain in order to grasp the forms of things 'confusedly' (confuse) and without distinction of the 'states' (status] from one another.49 Thierry does not explicitly raise the linguistic question here. However, it is obvious that the utterances corresponding to the confused forms and states will be polysemous in character. In twelfth-century texts, imagination is usually treated as a level of soul intermediate between sensation and reason. Because of its 49 Thierry of Chartres: Comm. In De Trin. 2. 4, 69. 41-2. 5, 70. 62. Cf. Glosa in De Trin. 2. 9, 270. 49~52 and Clarembald of Arras: Tract. Super De Trin. 2. 6, 108.

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position within the hierarchy of psychic faculties, imagination is viewed sometimes as more closely connected with sensation and therefore inferior to reason but sometimes as more closely aligned with reason and therefore superior to sensation. The former viewpoint is less compatible with the high evaluation of polysemous discourse, and is dominant in the passage of Thierry considered above. The latter viewpoint is more harmonious with such an evaluation of polysemy, and can be found in certain texts of Hugh of St. Victor. In Hugh's On the Union of Body and Spirit, imagination is described as the lowest level of the rational spirit and the highest level of the universal spirit. The association with reason is of the greatest importance since just as intelligence informs reason from above in producing 'wisdom' (sapientid) so does imagination inform reason from below in producing 'knowledge' (scientia)*0 In other words, although imagination ranks below intelligence in the hierarchy of faculties, both intelligence and imagination 'inform' (informare) the reason. This position is apparently restated in Hugh's Didascalicon. Here, a distinction is made between two levels of the soul's activity: intelligence with which it perceives 'intellectibles' (intellectibilia) like God, the Ideas, and Matter, and imagination with which it perceives 'intelligibles' (intelligibilia).51 Peculiarities of terminology reveal the Boethian source of this argument. In fact, Hugh is describing the two higher segments in a threefold division of theoretical philosophy into theology, mathematics, and physics according to the objects and faculties involved in each case.52 Thus, imagination is associated with the mathematical sphere. It is not possible to explore the topic of imagination in twelfthcentury philosophical texts adequately here. Such a study would have to take account of a complex historical process in which the Aristotelian notion of phantasia, long submerged, gradually reappears from John of Salisbury onwards, in which accidents of translation in the Latin version of Avicenna, magnified through the compilation of Gundissalinus, produce a new notion of imaginatio intellectus, and so forth.53 One should simply draw from the passages of Thierry and 50

Hugh of St. Victor: De Unions Corp. et Spir., PL 177, 287A-289A. Hugh of St. Victor: Didasc. II. 5, 29. 14-25. 52 Boethius: In hag. ed. /, 1. 3, 8. 3-9. 12. 53 For a sketch of this history see: M.-D. Chenu, 'Imaginatio. Note de lexicographic philosophique medievale' in Miscellanea Giovanni Mercati (Vatican City 1946), pp. 593-602. 51

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STEPHEN GERSH

Hugh some conclusions necessary for the present inquiry. These are first, that the contents of imagination are the objects of polysemous discourse; secondly, that imagination—at least in its higher mode of proximity to reason—grounds the mathematical; and thirdly, that polysemous and mathematical discourses are not necessarily incompatible with one another. This last feature has perhaps been exemplified well enough in the previous pages. Near the beginning of this essay I suggested that the advantage of the method to be pursued was twofold: that it helps us to understand the Platonic tradition as a whole, and that it helps us to clarify the relation of that tradition to contemporary thought. I shall conclude with one further comment on the second point. Gerard Genette has made an important contribution to the general discussion in his work entitled Mimologiques, Voyage en Cratylie.54 This studies the tradition of 'cratylism' from ancient times until the modern day—the first chapter dealing with interpretations and misinterpretations of the Cratylus itself, another chapter entitled 'De ratione verborum' with the ancient grammatical tradition of etymology, another chapter entitled 'Soni rerum indices' with the seventeenthcentury grammar of J. Wallis, the fourth chapter with Mallarme's linguistic experimentation, etc.—although nothing is said regarding the medieval tradition and medieval Platonism. I believe that the material presented in this essay would justify the addition of three or four chapters to an otherwise admirable book.

54

(Paris 1976).

SOME QUANTITATIVE POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO COLUMBANUS OF BOBBIO Michael W. Herren

For some time I have wished to return to the much-debated problem of the authenticity of three quantitative poems attributed to Columbanus—Ad Sethum, Ad Hunaldum, Columbanus Fidolio.1 It will not be possible in the present essay to explore the subject as fully as it deserves, but I should like to offer this as a token of a fuller study. Here I can offer only the most cursory overview of the history of the controversy; those interested in more detail will find almost everything they require in the recent publication Columbanus. Studies on the Latin Writings, edited by Michael Lapidge.2

The state of the question

There has never been a consensus that the three poems mentioned above were written in the late sixth or early seventh century by the famous Columbanus, abbot of Luxeuil and founder of the monastery at Bobbio.3 The poem Ad Hunaldum contains the name Columbanus in an acrostic formed by the first letter of each line, while the second line of Ad Sethum contains the words 'Dicta Columbani'. The manuscripts, dating from the late eighth to the twelfth century, assign the work to a Columbanus described, in some cases, as a sanctus or an abbas. In 1971, the Dutch scholar Johannes Smit devoted part of a monograph to the problem of their authenticity, in which he

1

Ed. G. Walker, Sancti Columbani Opera (Dublin 1957) (Scriptores Latini Hibemiae II), pp. 184-97. All references are to the pages of this edition. 2 (Woodbridge 1997), hereafter Studies; see the Epilogue, pp. 274-85. See also M. Lapidge and R. Sharpe, A Bibliography of Celtic-Latin Literature 400-1200 (Dublin 1985), p. 171, s. 'Columbanus, ? abbot of Saint-Trond'. 3 The issue was already contentious in 1911 when Manitius published vol. I of his Geschichte der lateinischen Literatur des Mittelalters (Munich), p. 184: 'Die Gedichte Columbans, wenn sie wirklich von dem sich Columba nennenden Abte verfasst sind . . .'

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remarked on the disparity between the poems, which show an egregious knowledge of classical poetry and mythology, and the letters, which rely entirely on patristic and biblical authority.4 Smit also insisted that the author of the prose letters referred to himself as Columba, whereas the author of the quantitative poems called himself Columbanus.5 He pointed out that Columbanus would have been the first Irishman to have written quantitative adonics (Columbanus Fidolio), and the only one to have done so before the Carolingian period.6 He concluded that the author was an homonymous writer of the second half of the ninth century. Smit's book received a mixed reception, but his theory proved influential. Six years later Michael Lapidge reformulated Smit's arguments, added new arguments (and evidence) of his own, and concluded that the author was an Irishman who flourished in the late eighth to early ninth century and was identical to Columbanus, abbot of St Trond (an hypothesis hestitantly put forward by Smit).7 Lapidge was cautiously supported by Peter Jacobsen,8 with dissent expressed by Heinz Lowe and myself.9 In his epilogue to the recent edited volume Columbanus. Studies on the Latin Writings, Lapidge re-asserted his case, laying special emphasis on formal criteria, particularly the issue of (St) Columbanus's capacity to write quantitative verse. There he expressed the view: '. . . of one thing we can be quite sure: the Columbanus in question was not the founder of Bobbio.'10 Admittedly, there are difficulties in the view that St Columbanus was the author of these poems; I have entertained similar doubts myself.11 But I do not believe that Lapidge's thesis can be regarded as proven. Before turning to some new evidence that favours the 4 J. Smit, Studies on the language and style of Columba the Younger (Columbanus) (Amsterdam 1971), pp. 209-49. 5 Ibid., pp. 209-10. 6 Ibid., pp. 246-7. 7 'The Authorship of the adonic verses "Ad Fidolium" attributed to Columbanus', Studi Medievali ser. 3, 18.2 (1977), 249-314. For Smit's suggestion of the same, see op. cit, p. 251. 8 P. Jacobsen, 'Carolina Columbani', in Die Iren und Europa im jruheren Mittelalter, ed. H. Lowe (Stuttgart 1982), pp. 434-67. 9 H. Lowe, 'Columbanus und Fidolius', Deutsches Archwfiir Erforschung des Mittelalters 37.1 (1981), 1-19. M. Herren, 'A ninth-century poem for St Gall's feast day and the "Ad Sethum" of Columbanus', Studi Medievali, ser. 3, 24.2 (1983), 487-520 (rpt. as no. VIII in Herren, Latin Letters in Early Christian Ireland (Aldershot 1996). 10 Lapidge, 'Epilogue', p. 285. 11 'Classical and Secular Learning among the Irish before the Carolingian

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saint's authorship, I should like to look at some difficulties with aspects of the sceptical view. First of all, although one cannot exclude the possibility that some as-yet-unidentified Irish scholar wrote these poems roughly two centuries after the floruit of the saint of Bobbio, the assertion that Columbanus of St-Trond (St Truiden) wrote them rests on very slender evidence. The existence of a conveniently-named Irish abbot, whose dates are not inconsistent with the terminus provided by the earliest manuscript of Fidolio (MS Diez B Sant 66, c. 790)12 is not an adequate foundation. At the very least, we should be looking for a candidate whom we know to have been an author. There is no evidence of this. The attempt to identify the author of the quantitative poems with the author of a planctus on the death of Charlemagne is similarly tendentious. The conjecture goes back to Muratori, who thus interpreted the heading 'hymnus Columbani ad Andream episcopum de obitu Caroli', the subscription of this poem contained in a seventeenth-century edition of the poems of Hrabanus Maurus.13 The difficulty is that this ascription may well have been deduced from stanza 17 of the planctus: 'O Columbane, stringe tuas lacrimas,/ precesque funde pro illo ad dominum. Heu mihi misero!' It is just as likely that an anonymous author issued a prayer to St Columbanus in heaven as it is that a ninth-century poet named Columbanus was addressing himself. Heinz Lowe pointed out what is, practically, an insuperable grammatical difficulty with Lapidge's claim that the author addressed himself with Columbane. This is the fact that the poet addressed himself consistently in the first person (mihi} in the refrain attached to each stanza; the shift to the second-person Columbane is therefore extremely awkward, especially when it immediately precedes "heu mihi misero".14 To make matters more uncertain, even if clear evidence emerged to show that the planctus had been written by someone called

Renaissance', Florilegium 3 (1981), 118-57 (= Herren, Latin Letters, as no. I, 1-39, at p. 18). 12 B. Bischoff, 'The Court Library of Charlemagne', in Manuscripts and Libraries in the Age of Charlemagne, tr. M. Gorman (Cambridge 1994), pp. 68-73. See now C. Villa, 'Die Horaziiberlieferung und die "Bibliothek Karls des Grossen"' Deutsches Archiv, 51.1 (1995), 29-52. 13 Ed. E. Diimmler, Poetae latini aevi Carolini I (Berlin 1881), pp. 434-6; for the subscription, see p. 434. 14 Lowe, op. cit., p. 3.

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Golumbanus, the poem does not employ quantitative verse. Each three-line strophe consists of two twelve-syllable lines and a refrain of seven syllables: 'Heu mini misero'. The only metrical principle observed is the placement of a paroxytone word or mot metrique at the end of each twelve-syllable line. Thus, there is no evidence that the author of this poem, whoever he may have been, was any more capable of writing metrical verse than St Columbanus of Bobbio. Lapidge's specific arguments that St Columbanus could not have written the above-mentioned quantitative poems can be reduced to two: (1) the poem Columbanus Fidolio required a knowledge of Tiberianus's poem 'De auro' plus knowledge of a source which alone could account for examples of avarice not covered in Tiberianus's poem. This source, according to Lapidge, could only be the First Vatican Mythographer, whose date, because it relies on Isidore, is necessarily later than the floruit of St Columbanus.15 (2) St Columbanus's prose writings (letters) and his genuine rhythmical poems prove that he had no knowledge of word accent, and hence, no knowledge of quantities, and therefore was incapable of writing quantitative verse.16 Turning to the first argument, there can be no doubt that the author of Fidolio used Tiberianus's poem De auro. Lapidge has shown this conclusively.17 However, the earliest manuscript of De auro, MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale, lat. 7972, is dated to the end of the ninth century, or beginning of the tenth. It is thought to have been written at St Ambrose in Milan.18 As we have no other early knowledge of the manuscript tradition of this poem, or of its earlier use, it is impossible to say where it would have been available to someone writing in the last decades of the eighth century. A similar difficulty obtains for the use of the First Vatican Mythographer. While Lapidge is right to assert that it was compiled too late for St Columbanus's use (because it employs a source that incorporates Isidore's

15

Lapidge, The Authorship', pp. 276 85. A point developed in 'Epilogue: Did Columbanus compose metrical verse', in Studies, pp. 274—85. Lapidge (following Smit) makes a specific point of the rarity of the quantitative adonic between the time of Ennodius and the early phase of the Carolingian revival, where it is used by Alcuin and Paul the Deacon (see the Epilogue, p. 276). 17 'The Authorship', p. 277. 18 Texts and transmission: a survey of the Latin Classics, ed. L. Reynolds (Oxford 1983), p. 183. 16

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Etymologiae)19 the terminus-ante-quem of the First Vatican Mythographer is highly problematic. The most recent editor of the First Mythographer regards it and the Second Mythographer as post-Carolingian.20 Thus, again, we cannot be sure—indeed, it seems unlikely,—that the requisite source was available at the earliest stage of the Carolingian renewal, when Columbanus of St. Trond was supposed to be active. On the other hand, given the place of writing of Paris lat. 7972, we might entertain the possibility that Tiberianus's poem 'De auro' (referred to in Servius) was copied from an exemplar that circulated in northern Italy in late antiquity, and hence, might have been available to St Columbanus. Moreover, mythographic resources may have been more plentiful in northern Italy at the turn of the seventh century than in the Carolingian realm in the late eighth century. Similarly, one might also wonder whether the poems of Ennodius—which Lapidge claims to have supplied the model for subsequent quantitative adonics—might not have been available to Columbanus at Bobbio. Ennodius was, after all, bishop of Pavia, and Paul the Deacon, who brought a copy of Ennodius northward, had been educated at the court in Pavia. If there is a Leitmotiv here, it is that the two crucial sources of Fidolio—Tiberianus's De auro and Ennodius's adonic poems (as argued by Lapidge)—owe their transmission to the northern Italian centres, Milan and Pavia. We know that Columbanus spent a period at the court in Milan where he was engaged in writing his (lost) De fide.2}

Arguments based on Columbanus's supposed ignorance of the rules of quantitative verse

The issue of St Columbanus's knowledge of quantities, and hence the rules of Latin stress, requires discussion. Lapidge believed that 'there is no reason to assume that [Columbanus] knew how to pronounce [Latin] correctly (and by implication knew the difference between long and short syllables in Latin words)'.22 While it may be

19

Lapidge, 'The Authorship', pp. 283-4. Le premier mythographe du Vatican, ed. N. Zorzetti, tr. J. Berlioz (Paris 1995), pp. xi-xiii. 21 D. Bullough, 'The career of Columbanus', in Studies, pp. 1—28, at 23 4. 22 'Epilogue', p. 282. 20

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true that Columbanus did not learn such rules at home in Ireland, we know that he spent at least twenty years in Gaul and Italy. Since Latin (Vulgar Latin/Romance) was still a spoken language of these areas, it is hard to credit that St Columbanus did not revise any possible inherited mispronunciations according to the norms of what he heard every day in his new environment. Lapidge argues that the poem De mundi transitu, which is now agreed to be the genuine work of the saint,23 proves Columbanus's ignorance of Latin word accent. However, this contention is based on the assumption that HibernoLatin heptasyllabic poetry of this period must exhibit identical final stress from line to line.24 This is not the case, as I believed I showed in an earlier article.25 The De mundi transitu is organized into quatrains, in which lines 2 and 4 of each quatrain show either perfect or imperfect (i.e. 'Irish') rhyme,26 and hence, identical stress in the final mot metrique—with metre subordinated to rhyme. In lines 1 and 3 the poet was indifferent to both rhyme and cadence. Here it will be necessary to offer detailed evidence of this point. I list the mots metriques of lines 2 and 4 of each quatrain, italicizing the accented syllables: deo^scit, remansit; pan, aequali; rabripit, corripit; avari, alii (assume synezesis); audent, habent; amant, parant, col/zgere, credere; lucem, ducem; \aetantur, parantur; restat, praestat; amice, vitae; florida, gloria; deperit, defecerit; de/
See especially Dieter Schaller, '"De mundi transitu": a rhythmical poem by Columbanus?', Columbanus, ed. Lapidge, pp. 240-54. 24 Epilogue', p. 283. 23 'Hibernolateinische und irische Verskunst mit besonderen Beriicksichtigung des Siebensilbers', ScriptOmlia 35 (1991), 173-88, at pp. 183-5 (= no XVI in Herren, Latin Letters), where I tried to point out that final stress in early Hiberno-Latin and Irish stanzaic seven-syllable poetry varied and was closely linked to the rhyme pattern. 26 See, generally, the study by G. Murphy, Early Irish metrics (Dublin 1961), which discusses both Irish and Hiberno-Latin rhyming schemes and types of rhyme.

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As for the argument that Columbanus ignored rhythm in his prose writings, it would appear that Lapidge took no account of Neil Wright's findings in the collection which Lapidge himself edited, namely, that high frequencies of cursus are closely linked to the use of hyperbaton.27 Further, David Howlett has advanced evidence that Columbanus used both the rhythmical cursus and metrical clausulae.28 To complete the formalist portion of this essay, it is important to discuss one other poem sometimes ascribed to Columbanus. It is a collection of 205 monostichs on moral themes entitled the Praecepta Vivendi per singulos versus quae Monastica dicuntur.29 It has been variously attributed to Alcimus Avitus and Columbanus, and is now included in the corpus of Alcuin's poems, largely on the authority of Lupus of Ferrieres and Hrabanus Maurus.30 Whoever wrote the poem borrowed (or recycled) two lines from Columbanus's Ad Sethum (lines 5 and 11, wrongly cited by Dummler as coming from Ad Hunaldum). The ascription to Avitus is based on a dubious conjecture,31 leaving Alcuin and 'Columbanus' as the likeliest candidates. Against the Carolingian ascription of the work to Alcuin is the testimony of the manuscripts, most of which ascribe it to Columbanus, some with an ut fertur. Apart from its length, the work is comparable to the two hexametrical poems ascribed to Columbanus: the sermon form, the use of monostichs (end-stopped lines) exclusively, and a nucleus of shared sources—the Disticha Catonis, the Bible, Vergil, and the Epistulae of Horace. The last three lines of the preface contain two-syllable end-rhyme, reminiscent of some prose passages by St Columbanus.32 On the basis of the manuscript ascriptions and the poem's similarities with the other 'Columbanus poems' Lapidge

27 N. Wright, 'Columbanus's Epistulae,' in Studies, pp. 57-8. Cf. especially p. 58: 'It would therefore be a mistake to think that Columbanus wrote in complete ignorance of the cursus, or that he was entirely indifferent to rhythm when composing his Epistulae'. 28 'Insular Latin Writers' Rhythms', Peritia 11 (1997), 53-116, at p. 58. Not all of Howlett's examples of quantitative clausulae are convincing (e.g. 'commissos sibi docuit'), but it is interesting from the examples that Columbanus did seem to know the double cretic and cretic-trochee endings. 29 Ed. E. Dummler, Poetae latini aevi Carolini I, pp. 275-81. 30 Manitius, op. cit, I, p. 185. 31 Ibid. 32 See especially the preface to Ep. i (p. 3): '. . . Romanae pulcherrimo Ecclesiae Decon, totius Europae flaccentis augustissimo quasi cuidam Flori, egregio Speculator?. . .'

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ascribed the Praecepta to Columbanus of St-Trond.33 But we are again left with an ascription to a figure of whom there is no clear testimony for literary production. It therefore would appear that there is no single formal argument that proves the authorship of these works by a Carolingian Columbanus nor disqualifies St Columbanus as the author. Certainly it is not necessary to assent to the proposition that St Columbanus would have had no time to learn the rules of quantitative verse or to acquaint himself with the classics, either directly or indirectly. In less hurried times those of a scholarly disposition found time to read, to write, and, yes, even develop new literary skills. Even today, a diligent undergraduate can master the basics of metrical composition in, say, a semester, especially if he or she sticks to the hexametre, or a metre like the continuous adonic (Fidolio), which demands no more than a connected string of hexametre endings. The task becomes all the easier when, as the author of the poems under discussion did, a poet generously lards his work with lines and half-lines of other poems.34 Given Columbanus's remarkable facility with the Latin language,33 the acquisition of a limited ability to compose quantitative verse does not strain credulity. I agree that it remains improbable that he learned this skill in Ireland, and I do not advance these poems as evidence— if their authenticity could ever be conclusively proven—that the Irish of the late sixth century were involved in a serious study of the classics.

The content of the poems as evidence for authorship

Let us now turn to an area that has been almost totally neglected in this discussion, namely, the content of the poems. It would be easy to assume that poems dealing with themes such as avarice, the evanescence of human life, and the need for obedience to God's commandments are the common stuff of Christianity in all periods. 33

Lapidge, 'The Authorship', pp. 305-8. However, his argument for denying the authorship to Golumbanus does not hold. Lapidge argued (p. 306, n. 217) that the author of the Praecepta had to have used a line by Eugenius of Toledo. But the reverse could be equally true, and one should not exclude the possibility of a common source. 34 See Manitius, Geschichte, I, p. 185, who describes the poems as Centonenhqft. 35 Wright, 'Columbanus's Epistulae\ p. 88.

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However, the first of these themes links all three of the quantitative poems: avarice is the topic of Fidolio, and it is a central topic of the other two poems. The miser is left with nothing in the end: old age destroys any pleasure from accrued wealth. The link between greed and the fleeting character of human life is established in Ad Sethum, 15-16: Has cape, divitias semper contemne caducas, In mentemque tibi venial tremebunda senectus.3

Likewise, in Ad Hunaldum the author moves from the theme of avarice to the topos of the brevity of life within the compass of a few lines (7-10, 14-15): Ardet avaritia caecaque cupidine pectus. Nescit habere modum vanis mens dedita curis. Vilius argentum est auro, virtutibus aurum: Summa quies, nil velle super quam postulat usus. Aspice, quam brevis est procerum regumque potestas. Lubrica mortalis cito transit gloria vitae.37

The same linkage of the themes of avarice and the transitoriness is made in the De mundi transitu, 9-20, concerning which a convincing claim exists that it was written by St Columbanus:38 Differentibus vitam Mors incerta subripit, Omnes superbos vagos Meror mortis corripit. Quod pro Christo largiri Nolunt omnes avari Inportune amittunt; Post se colligunt alii. Parvum ipsi viventes Deo dare vix audent; Morti cuncta relinquunt Nihil de ipsis habent.39

The avoidance of avarice is given prominence in Columbanus's Regula monachorum', indeed, it is presented as 'the first perfection of monks': Ed. Walker, Sancti Columbani Opera, p. 186.

Ibid. See Schaller, 'De mundi transitu'. Ibid, (or: Ed. Walker), p. 184.

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Ideo ergo nuditas et facultatum contemptus prima perfectio est monachorum, secunda vero purgatio vitiorum, tertia perfectissima del continuata dilectio ac divinorum iugis amor . . . Quae cum ita sunt, paucis nobis opus esst iuxta verbum domini aut etiam uno. Pauca namque sunt necessaria vera sine quibus non transigitur, aut etiam uno, quasi cibo iuxta litteram.40 The primacy of poverty over other monastic virtues is derived from Cassian, whom we know Columbanus used.41 The practice of poverty, and its corollary, the avoidance of avarice, was the central text of the Pelagian treatise De divitiis, which apparently was still circulating in Gildas's day.42 The author of this work condemned the taking of what was more than sufficient—'sufficient, I mean, not for the demands of avarice, but for the needs of nature'.43 The author of Ad Sethum also appealed to nature as the criterion of sufficiency: 'Nee maiora cupit quam quae natura reposcit' (line 46). The author of De divitiis stressed Christ's poverty and the requirement that every true Christian follow his example. The identical idea is expressed in the Ad Sethum in the line immediately following the discussion of Christ's warnings against avarice (line 59): 'Quisquis amat Christum, sequitur vestigia Christi'. Indeed, the main theme of Fidolio, that greed gives rise to every kind of crime, is also the text of De divitiis, to which Tiberianus's poem lends ideological support in addition to supplying examples. Ad Hunaldum, Ad Sethum, Fidolio, and the rhythmical De mundi transit are poetic instmctiones for those who want to lead a perfect life and achieve salvation. Their emphasis on poverty and the avoidance of avarice accords well with the type of Cassianic, semi-Pelagian spirituality that prevailed between 400 and at least 600. They stress obedience to Christ's law (Ad Sethum 5, 11) and the primacy of Christ's example (ibid., 58). There is no injunction to pray or to be reliant on God's grace; following Christ's law and example is sufficient.

40

Regula monachorum iv (ed. Walker, Sancti Columbani Opera), p. 126. See the references in Walker's apparatus, p. 126. For St Columbanus's use of Cassian more generally, see C. Stancliffe, 'The thirteen sermons attributed to Columbanus and the question of their authorship', in Studies, pp. 93-202, passim. 42 See my Christ in Celtic Christianity (with S. A. Brown), ch. 3, 00-00, forthcoming in the 'Studies in Celtic History' series (The Boydell Press). 43 Tr. B. Rees, The Letters of Pelagius and his followers (Woodbridge 1991), p. 178. 41

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One other little poem requires our consideration. This is the celeuma, or rowing-song, printed by Walker. It occurs in a tenth-century Leiden manuscript, where the ascription is mutilated: only -banus remains. As Lapidge pointed out, this portion of a name could as easily belong to Hrabanus as to Columbanus.44 However, its employment of end-stopped lines and generous borrowings from Vergil align this poem with the other hexametrical poems ascribed to St Columbanus. Most importantly, it is a paean to the power of effort combined with faith: 'Firma fides cuncta superat studiumque beatum' (line 19) and 'Cuncta domat nisus, labor improbus omnia vincit' (line 8, incorporating Vergil, Georg. i, 145^6). Just as effort tames the effects of storms, it breaks the shafts of Satan (line 20). Such insistence on the power of human effort coupled with faith (which, unlike grace, comes from men rather than from God) is wholly consistent with the semi-Pelagian cast of monasticism which Columbanus inherited from Cassian. Columbanus began his third Instructio thus: Quid in mundo optimum est? Auctori eius placere. Quid est eius voluntas? Complere quod iussit, hoc est, recte vivere et pie aeternum quaerere; pietas enim et aequitas pii et recti voluntas est. Ad id quomodo pervenitur? Studio. Studendum est ergo in pietate et aequitate.45 Lines 21 "2 of the celeuma run as follows: Rex quoque virtutum, rerum fons, summa potestas, Certanti spondet, vincenti praemia donat.46 The sentiment that God rewards those who fight the good fight can be matched in the second Instructio: 'Utinam et nos legitime certaremus, ut et coronari mereremur'.47 In the final analysis, all we can hope to say is that the content of several quantitative poems ascribed to St Columbanus is consistent with the theological notions contained in his prose writings and in his rhythmical poem De mundi transitu. Given that there are no convincing formal grounds for excluding these works from the canon 44

Lapidge, 'The Authorship', p. 304. Ed. Walker, p. 72. Interestingly, Columbanus alludes to the opening lines of his own poem in the same passage: 'Mundus enim transibit et cottidie transit. . .'; cf. Carmen de transitu mundi, p. 182: 'Mundus iste transibit, Cottidie decrescit. . .' 46 Ibid., p. 192. 47 Ibid., p. 72. 43

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of Columbanus's writings, we may not exclude their authorship by the founder of Bobbio. Of one thing we can be very sure: Columbanus Fidolio was available to Alcuin, doubtless still in the eighth century,48 and it existed in manuscript by c. 790 (Diez B Sant 66). It is acknowledged that much of the material in this manuscript (particularly the passages assigned to scribe B) pertains to Peter the Deacon (Peter of Pisa).49 Recent work by Claudia Villa suggests that perhaps the whole of the manuscript, including its famous catalogue of authors, is based on texts derived from Italian libraries, particularly of northern Italy, and reflects a late antique Italian school tradition.50 This hypothesis leaves open the possibility that the text of Columbanus Fidolio also came from Italy, though it does not prove its antiquity. It should have been sufficient to conclude that Columbanus of Bobbio cannot be excluded from the authorship of these quantitative verses, even if a wholly positive solution is still lacking. However, before setting down my pen (shutting down my laptop) I re-read Jacobsen's 'Nachtrag' to his important article, 'Carmina Columbani'. There he stressed the relation between the quantitative poems of a certain Colman 'Nepos Cracavist' and the quantitative poems assigned to Columbanus. An inspection of the two poems written by Colman31 shows that their style and much of their content are quite close to those of the poems attributed to St Columbanus. The hexametre lines are largely of the end-stopped variety, and internal one-syllable assonance (at the caesura and end of the line) is about of the same proportion as in the 'Columbanus' poems. Many lines are centos, involving quotation of Vergil. Colman's verses show a wide acquaintance with both classical and Christian poetic sources, as do those of the poems ascribed to Columbanus. Several lines by Colman are very close in wording to some lines in Ad Sethum.52 Here it may prove worthwhile to cite a portion of Colman's poem to a friend also name Colman: Audi doctiloquo cecinit quod carmine vates Omnia fert aetas, gelidus tardante senecta 48

49 50

Lapidge, 'The Authorship', p. 273.

Ibid., pp. 286-8.

Villa, op. cit., pp. 48-9. 51 See M. Esposito, 'The poems of Colmanus "Nepos Cracavist" and Dungalus "Praecipuus Scottorum"', The Journal of Theological Studies 33 (1932), 113-31; texts of the poems, pp. 114—17. 52 Jacobsen, 'Carmina Columbani', pp. 466-7.

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1 11

Sanguis hebet, frigent effetae in corpora vires, Siccae nee calido complentur sanguine venae. Me maris anfractus lustranda et littora terrent. At tu rumpe moras celeri sulcare carina, Colmanique tui semper Colmane memento, lam iam nunc liceat fida te voce monere: Pauca tibi dicam vigili quae mente teneto.33

It is at once apparent that we have poetry wholly consistent with the style and thought of the quantitative poems attributed to Columbanus, most particularly Ad Sethum, which are figured in the last two lines cited here. An apparent obstacle to the identification of Colman 'Nepos Cracavist' with Columbanus founder of Bobbio is that the first names himself Colmanus in his poem, the second calls himself Columbanus in two poems. But the names Colm, Colman(us), Columban(us), and even Columba appear to be interchangeable34— a fact that invalidated Smit's argument that someone who called himself Columba in his letters would not call himself Columbanus in his poems. Since in the above poem one Colman(us) is writing to another, the author's choice of the form Colmanus here could have been dictated by the confines of metre, i.e. he could place both names in close relationship in the same hexametre line. It is true that the manuscript tradition rigorously assigns one group of poems to a Columbanus, another to a Colmanus, but ascriptions are very often based on internal evidence, so cannot be confidently regarded as independent testimony. Colmanus 'Nepos Cracavist' was brilliantly transformed by Peter Jacobsen from the Irish grandson of a Polish ancestor into an ordinary Irish bishop. 'Nepos Cracavist' is a corruption of 'episcopus (epos < epcs) craxavit'.55 Other manuscript evidence confirms that this poet was a bishop: see the subscription to his poem on a miracle by Brigit in BN lat. 18095: 'Versus Colmani episcopi de sancta Brigida'. This information, of course, does not invalidate the possibility that 33

Esposito, 'The poems of Colmanus', pp. 116-17. See especially D. O. Croinin, 'The computistical works of Columbanus', in Studies, pp. 264—70, at 268: 'The name Columba and its diminutive form Columbanus (cf. Irish Colm/Colman) were very common Irish names . . . There were countless Irish peregrini in England and on the Continent, and Colmanus/Columbanus is a name encountered frequently among them'. 55 Jacobsen, op. cit, p. 466. For craxavit, 'wrote', see my 'Insular Latin c(h)araxare (craxare) and its Derivatives', Peritia 1 (1982), 273-20 (= Herren, Latin Letters, no. XIII). 54

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this Colman also wrote the poems attributed to Golumbanus of Bobbio. To argue that the latter was an abbot and not a bishop would be to beg the question. The remaining problem is Colman's date. We have shown that at least Columbanus Fidolio was already in manuscript by c. 790, and it is likely that Ad Sethum was known to Paulus Diaconus, who is thought to have died before 800.56 The author, therefore, has to have flourished no later than c. 775-800, though, of course, he might have written much earlier. Esposito believed that Colman belonged to the early ninth century.57 It remains to be seen whether any of the manuscripts containing the Colmanus poems are of sufficiently early date to support his hypothesis. The same manuscript that calls Colman 'nepos Cracavist' also alleges that he wrote in Rome.08 At this point of the argument I believe that we are left with two possibilities: either Colman wrote the lot of the Columbanus poems, including the Praecepta and perhaps even the celeuma (plus, of course, the poems which travel under the name of Colman), or else he so closely imitated the sytle of Columbanus of Bobbio's poems (which he could have read in Italy) that his own are indistinguishable from them. The problem is not yet solved, but I think that we may have got a little closer. Instead of looking for a writer active in northern or central Europe, we should seek him out in Italy. Both of our Irish poets with dove-names wrote there. Columbanus of St-Trond, to whom no other literary work has been ascribed, should probably now be excluded as the author of Ad Hunaldum, Ad Sethum, the Columbanus Fidolio, the Praecepta vivendi, and the celeuma.

56 57 58

Herren, 'A ninth-century poem for St Gall's feast', p. 508. Esposito, op. cit., p. 118. Ibid., p. 188, with n. 7.

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LE DISCIPLE QUI CORRIGE LE MAITRE Edouard Jeauneau

Le sujet que je me propose de trailer ne semblera pas nouveau a celui que le present recueil veut honorer. En juillet 1975, se tenait a Laon un colloque consacre a Jean Scot Erigene. Peter Dronke y donna une remarquable communication sur la fonction des images poetiques chez Jean Scot.1 Pour ma part, j'y etudiai quatre gloses bibliques decouvertes par Bernhard Bischoff dans les pages de garde du manuscrit 55 de la bibliotheque municipale de Laon.2 Bischoff pensait que ces gloses, ecrites par une main irlandaise (f2) que Ton rencontre en plusieurs manuscrits des ceuvres erigeniennes, pourraient interesser les participants. II m'avait demande d'en faire le commentaire. A cette epoque, rappelons-le, la plupart de ceux qui s'interessaient a la pensee d'Erigene admettaient sans broncher la these de Sheldon-Williams—these sous-jacente a son edition du Periphyseon—selon laquelle la main i2 serait celle d'Erigene.3 Dans ces conditions, tout ce qui avait etc ecrit par cette main etait incontestablement authentique. Les choses allaient bientot changer, grace a Terence Alan Martyn Bishop, qui, au cours du meme colloque, devait annoncer le resultat de ses recherches sur les autographes erigeniens.4 Mais n'anticipons pas ! Ayant a examiner le contenu des quatre gloses bibliques du manuscrit 55 de Laon, je m'etais efforce de mettre en evidence tout ce que ces gloses pouvaient contenir d'erigenien et qui n'est point negligeable. Certes, je me gardai bien

1

P. Dronke, 'Theologia ueluti quaedam poetria : quelques observations sur la fonction des images poetiques chez Jean Scot', dans Jean Scot Erigene et I'histoire de la philosophie, Laon, 7~ 12 juillet 1975, ed. R. Roques (Paris 1977), pp. 243-252. Par la suite, ce recueil sera cite sous le sigle suivant: JSHP. 2 'Ein neuer Text aus der Gedankenwelt des Johannes Scottus', dans JSHP, pp. 109-116. 3 Avant le colloque de Laon, Bernhard Bischoff pensait que la main i2 etait celle d'Erigene. J'avais adhere moi-meme a cette opinion : voir 1'introduction a mon edition du Commentaire sur I'evangile de Jean (Paris 1972) (Sources chretiennes 180), pp. 70-77. Cf. Reimpression (1999), p. 472. 4 T. A. M. Bishop, 'Autographa of John the Scot', dans JSHP, pp. 89^94. Cf. E. Jeauneau - P. E. Button, The Autograph of Eriugena (Turnhout 1996), pp. 26-33.

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d'attribuer les gloses a Erigene, mais je n'en ecartai pas categoriquement la possibilite. Or, apres ma communication, Peter Dronke me fit part de son sentiment. A son avis, Jean Scot ne pouvait pas etre I'auteur de ces gloses et, par consequent, 1'ecriture i2 n'etait pas la sienne. II avait raison . . . un quart de siecle avant moi! Dans la courte monographic que Paul Dutton et moi-meme avons consacree aux autographes erigeniens, nous nous sommes efforces de demontrer que 1'ecriture de i2 n'est pas celle d'Erigene.5 Ce point semble bien etabli desormais. II s'ensuit que la Version III, contenue dans le manuscrit B (Bamberg, Staatsbibliothek, Ms. Phil. 2,1) et dont i2 est responsable, n'a probablement pas recu le 'Bon a tirer' de I'auteur. Le manuscrit B a etc execute par d'excellents copistes carolingiens, qui avaient pour tache de recopier, sous la surveillance de i2, le manuscrit R (Reims, Bibliotheque municipale, Ms. 875), exemplaire de travail de I'auteur. Le role de i2 dans la confection de B a ete celui d'un 'editeur' : il a ajoute des titres et des gloses dans les marges, et, la ou I'auteur avait renvoye de fa$on vague au Periphyseon, il a pris soin de preciser de quel livre il s'agit.6 C'est lui aussi, sans doute, qui a decide d'integrer les notes marginales au texte principal.7 Mais ses interventions ne s'arretent pas la : il a pris avec le texte d'Erigene des libertes qu'un auteur moderne ne serait certainement pas dispose a accorder a son editeur.8 Nous voila avertis. La Version III, celle du manuscrit B, a ete 'arrangee' par ? : nous ne pouvons pas lui faire entiere confiance. La Version IV, 'edition revue et corrigee' de la Version III, est encore moins fiable. Peu importe, dira-t-on, puisque nous avons le manuscrit R. Or, si 1'on admet—c'est la 1'hypothese la plus plausible—que 1'ecriture z'1 est celle d'Erigene, ce manuscrit a ete corrige et annote par I'auteur lui-meme : son authenticite parait assuree. Mais les choses ne sont ni aussi simples ni aussi claires. En effet, le manuscrit R a ete corrige et annote non seulement par z 1 , mais aussi par i2 : ce dernier est particulierement actif dans les cahiers 11—14 et 41—45, ou Ton trouve de substantielles notes marginales ecrites de sa main. Assurement, rien ne s'oppose a ce qu'Erigene soit I'auteur de ces notes, qu'il a pu soit dieter soit rediger sur des chutes 5 6 7 8

E. Jeauneau - P. E. Dutton, The Autograph of Eriugena, pp. 108—110. E. Jeauneau - P. E. Dutton, The Autograph of Eriugena, pp. 85-93. Periphyseon III, ed. E. Jeauneau (Turnhout 1999) (CCCM 163), pp. xvi-xix. Pour quelques exemples de cette maniere de faire, cf. ibid., pp. xxi-xxiii.

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de parchemin ou des tablettes de cire. Dans I'un comme dans I'autre cas, z2 serait un copiste, rien de plus. II est remarquable, en effet, que les notes marginales copiees par z 2 dans les cahiers 11-14 de R, a la difference des notes ecrites par z 1 , s'inscrivent parfaitement dans un espace donne, comme si le copiste, ayant devant les yeux le texte de 1'auteur, avait pu calculer d'avance 1'espace qu'il occuperait dans la page. Voila, du moins, ce qu'on est enclin a penser, lorsqu'on examine la belle ordonnance des folios dans lesquels la main de z 2 intervient.9 Mais quand, non content d'examiner la 'mise en page', on examine le contenu de ces notes, les difficultes surgissent. II est incontestable que z 2 etait un clerc cultive. II en donne maintes preuves dans les notes personnelles et les corrections qu'il a apportees a la Version III. II est vraisemblable qu'avant de devenir lui-meme un maitre qualifie, il fut le disciple d'Erigene et qu'a ce titre il collabora comme copiste a la confection du manuscrit R. Par ailleurs, il est certain qu'a un moment donne, peut-etre apres la mort du maitre, le manuscrit R a etc en sa possession. II s'en est servi pour faire executer le manuscrit B. A cette occasion, il a pu etre tente d'introduire dans le manuscrit R certaines des corrections et additions qu'il souhaitait voir figurer dans le manuscrit B. C'est apparemment ce qui s'est produit lorsqu'il remplaga I'adjectif artifex, employe par 1'auteur pour qualifier la sainte Ecriture, par artificiosa, et cela a la fois dans le manuscrit R (f. 71r) et dans le manuscrit B (f. 56r).'° II se pourrait done que les notes ajoutees par z 2 dans les marges du manuscrit R n'appartiennent pas toutes a la meme periode. Les unes, ceuvre d'un disciple qui joue le role de copiste, seraient la transcription de textes rediges par 1'auteur. Les autres, de date plus recente—posterieures peut-etre a la mort d'Erigene—exprimeraient la pensee personnelle de z 2 , une pensee qui prend ses distances par rapport a 1'enseignement du maitre. A vrai dire, il est difficile de decider pour chacun des textes ecrits par z 2 s'il est ou non la copie conforme d'une note redigee par 1'auteur du Periphyseon. Mais il est certain qu'en plusieurs d'entre eux on discerne un souci de corriger, de rectifier la redaction primitive, et cela non seulement pour des motifs de style mais pour des raisons doctrinales. II est evident qu'en ces cas-la nous avons affaire, non a la pensee d'Erigene, mais a celle 9

E. Jeauneau P. E. Button, The Autograph of Eriugena, p. 108. 'Artifex Scriptura', dans lohannes Scottus Eriugena. The Bible and Hermeneutics, ed. G. Van Kiel, C. Steel, J. McEvoy (Leuven 1996), pp. 351-365. 10

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d'un lecteur qui le corrige. Nous 1'avons appele z 2 , mais nous tacherons bientot de lui attribuer un nom plus facile a manier. Auparavant, je voudrais attirer I'attention sur quelques notes marginales, dues a la main i2, qui ont un point commun : toutes commencent par les mots Nisi forte. Voici un premier exemple emprunte a la Version III. II se situe au livre II du Periphyseon, en un passage (612AB) qui traite du Filioque, pomme de discorde entre 1'Eglise grecque et 1'Eglise latine. La position d'Erigene est delicate. D'une maniere generale, ses gouts personnels le font pencher en faveur des Grecs, mais le Filioque pose un probleme particulier. Absent du texte authentique du symbole de la foi dit 'de Nicee-Constantinople', le Filioque a ete introduit dans le Credo latin par Charlemagne et ses clercs centre la volonte expresse du pape Leon III (795-816).n Erigene savait-il qu'en 810 non seulement le pape avait rejete la demande, presentee par les envoyes de Charlemagne, de confirmer 1'addition du Filioque mais encore qu'il avait demande qu'on cessat de le chanter a Aix-la-Chapelle ? De toute facon, la cour franque n'avait tenu aucun compte de 1'avis pontifical. On continuait sans doute de chanter le Filioque dans le royaume de Charles le chauve, que ce soit a Compiegne ou a SaintDenis. Erigene ne pouvait pas se permettre de le condamner. Entre la theologie grecque qui a ses preferences et la Cour franque dont il est Poblige il doit done louvoyer, et il le fait habilement. II se demande pourquoi les Peres du concile de Nicee n'ont pas defini que le Saint-Esprit precede du Pere par le Fils. Voici sa reponse. S'ils 1'avaient fait, des theologiens zeles n'auraient pas manque de poser la question suivante : 'Si le Saint-Esprit precede du Pere par le Fils, pourquoi ne pas affirmer que le Fils nait du Pere par le Saint-Esprit ?'12 C'est precisement pour couper court a cette question que les Peres de Nicee ont decide de ne point definir que le Saint-Esprit precede du Pere par le Fils. Telle est, du moins, la solution proposee par Erigene. Or, c'est a ce point que i2 introduit dans le manuscrit B (f. 130r) la note marginale suivante : Nisi forte quis dixerit praedictarum naturalium similitudinum uirtutem considerans : Ab igne per radium splendorem procedere uidemus, non autem ab igne per splendorem radium 11 Ratio romana de symbolo fidei, ed. H. Willjung, dans MGH, Concilia, Tomus II, Suppl. 2, pp. 285-294; PL 102, 971A-976C. 12 Periphysean II, 611D-612B; ed. E. Jeauneau (Turnhout 1997) (CCCM 162), 2981-2994.

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nasci. Similiter ab animo per rationem sensum interiorem mitti, non autem per ipsum sensum rationem ab animo gigni naturalis theoriae edocet ordo. Sed de diuinarum substantiarum generatione et processione suadenda sen affirmanda fortassis exempla naturae non sunt idonea.13 Si cette note marginale ne contredit pas ouvertement 1'explication proposee par Erigene pour expliquer 1'absence du Filioque dans le Symbole de Nicee, elle en affaiblit notablement la portee. Cela revient a dire que cette explication n'est pas incontournable. Pour la contourner, il suffit de recourir a une comparaison empruntee au monde physique, qu'Erigene lui-meme a utilisee, selon laquelle le Pere est symbolise par le feu, le Fils par le rayon lumineux et le Saint-Esprit par la splendeur.14 On peut dire que la splendeur precede du feu par 1'intermediaire du rayon lumineux, mais on ne dira pas que le rayon nait du feu par I'intermediaire de la splendeur. Appliquons la meme regie aux processions divines, et Ton verra que la raison invoquee par 1'auteur du Periphyseon pour justifier 1'absence du Filioque dans le texte authentique du Symbole de Nicee ne tient pas. II est vrai que t2 tempere sa critique en faisant remarquer que les exemples tires des phenomenes de la nature ne sont peut-etre pas adequats pour parler de la generation et de la procession des personnes de la Trinite. Les deux notes marginales suivantes, dues a la main z2, appartiennent a la Version II (manuscrit R). Elles se trouvent dans le livre IV du Periphyseon (815AB). En cet endroit, Erigene traite d'une question qui lui tient a cceur, celle du paradis terrestre. On sait que son exegese du recit de la Genese est allegorique. Aucune place n'y est faite a 1'histoire ou a la geographic. Le paradis terrestre n'est pas un lieu; il ne saurait s'inscrire sur une mappemonde. Car ce paradis n'est autre que la nature humaine prise dans son integrite et sa purete primordiales. Sur ce point, il est conscient d'etre en desaccord avec saint Augustin qui, lui aussi, propose une exegese allegorique du recit de la Genese, mais qui professe que cette exegese allegorique prend appui sur un paradis terrestre materiel plante d'arbres concrets.'0 A la difference d'Augustin, Erigene ne croit pas necessaire que le paradis spirituel, le seul qui lui importe, prenne 13

Ibid., p. 490, Version III, lignes 6337-6351. Pour me conformer a une convention adoptee dans I'edition du Periphyseon, les parties du texte ecrites par la main i2 sont imprimees en italique gras. 14 Periphyseon, II, 608A-609A (ed. cit., 11. 2824-2863). 15 Augustin, De Genesi ad litteram VIII, 1 (ed. J. Zycla (Wien 1894) (CSEL 28, 1),

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appui sur un paradis materiel, inscrit dans 1'espace et dans le temps. On peut tres bien se passer du paradis materiel, sans dommage pour Pessentiel, qui est le paradis spirituel. Et si Ton peut se passer du paradis materiel, pourquoi s'en encombrer ? Erigene s'en debarrasse allegrement. Ce faisant, il fausse compagnie a saint Augustin. Mais il le fait avec le respect et la consideration dus a celui qu'il considere comme le plus grand exegete du monde latin. Mieux que cela, il s'efforce d'attenuer, autant que faire se peut, le disaccord qui existe entre sa position et celle de 1'eveque d'Hippone. C'est precisement ce qu'il a tente dans le passage qui nous occupe. II s'est efforce d'interpreter quelques lignes du De mm religione conformement a ses propres vues. Augustin avait ecrit : 'L'homme fut chasse du paradis pour venir dans le monde present, c'est-a-dire qu'il est passe de 1'eternel dans le temporel, . . . du bien eternel au bien temporel, du bien spirituel au bien charnel, du bien intelligible au bien sensible'.16 Erigene commente : 'Remarque ce qu'il dit: du bien intelligible au bien sensible. N'affirme-t-il pas ouvertement que le paradis est intelligible, non sensible ? Car s'il avait voulu dire qu'il etait sensible, il aurait certainement ecrit: d'un bien sensible (c'est-a-dire le paradis corporel) a un bien sensible inferieur'. C'est a ce moment-la qu'intervient i2, en placant dans la marge du manuscrit R la note suivante : Nisi forte quis dicat de solo spirituali paradiso, ex quo anima peccatrix expulsa est, hanc sententiam protulisse, de expulsione uero corporis eius de corporali paradiso in ipsa sententia siluisse."

II se peut que z 2 ait raison sur le fond. Son intervention n'en est pas moins intempestive : elle defigure 1'argumentation de 1'auteur. Car celui-ci ajoute : 'II n'est pas croyable que l'homme, a cause de la transgression, ait ete chasse du paradis spirituel et non du paradis corporel, s'il y avait alors ou s'il y a encore deux paradis'. La conclusion, qu'Erigene laisse a son lecteur le soin de formuler, est la suivante : dans le passage cite du De uera religione Augustin professe la these selon laquelle il n'existe qu'un seul paradis, le paradis spirituel. La-dessus, nouvelle note marginale de z 2 : p. 229; PL 34, 371), cite en Periphyseon IV, 814B (ed. E. Jeauneau (Turnhout: a paraitre) (CCCM 164), 11. 3081-3088. 16 Augustin, De uera religione, XX, 38 (ed. K.-D. Daur in CCSL 32 (Turnhout 1962), p. 210; PL 34, 138). 17 R, f. 324v (marge superieure).

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1 19

Nisi forte quis dicat de spirituali paradiso expulsionem hominis solummodo in hoc loco exposuisse, eiusdem uero ex sensibili lapsum

Un troisieme exemple du meme phenomene se rencontre vers la fin du livre IV (859B), ou se trouvent cites et commentes ces mots adresses par Dieu a Adam apres son peche : 'Tu es poussiere et tu retourneras en poussiere', ou selon la Septante : 'Tu es terre et tu retourneras a la terre' (Gen. 3, 19). Erigene interprete ces divines paroles de facon allegorique. La terre dont il est question ici n'est point celle que foulent nos pieds, mais la terre solide et fertile des causes primordiales. C'est d'elle que l'homme, dans sa partie la plus noble (voaiq, animus), a etc tire; c'est vers elle qu'il fera retour. Telle est 1'interpretation que donne Erigene du verset biblique. Toutefois, il se garde de condamner 1'interpretation litterale du meme verset, selon laquelle le 'retour a la poussiere' designerait la decomposition du corps humain et sa dissolution dans les quatre elements. Mais cette interpretation se heurte a trois objections que le Maitre formule de fa^on interrogative, chacune d'elles commenc.ant par un pourquoi (cur). En voici la teneur. Si le verset biblique visait la decomposition du corps dans les quatre elements, pourquoi Dieu 1'auraitil promise au seul male, alors que le corps de la femme, lui aussi, se decomposera ? De plus, pourquoi Dieu aurait-il annonce que la decomposition affecterait l'homme tout entier, alors que seules ses parties inferieures, a savoir le corps et les sens corporels, se decomposeront ? A ce point, nous trouvons un Nisi forte qui ressemble etrangement a ceux qui ont etc mentionnes ci-dessus : Nisi forte dicant hunc locum usu frequentissimo sanctae scripturae sinecdochicos accipiendum, ut a toto pars intelligatur. Nee mirum si non de ipso animo sed de solo uirili sexu, intra quern etiam femineus consignificatur, talia dicta esse arbitrantur.19

Pas plus que les precedentes, cette remarque ne contredit ouvertement 1'auteur du Periphyseon, mais elle affaiblit incontestablement sa position dans 1'argumentation qu'il conduit contre les partisans de 1'exegese litterale. En cet endroit, rappelons-le, Erigene s'efforce de montrer que 1'interpretation litterale de Gen. 3, 19 se heurte a des difficultes insurmontables. L'auteur de la remarque Nisi forte dicant R, f. 324v (marge inferieure). Periphyseon IV, 859C.

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vient a la rescousse de 1'interpretation litterale en proposant a ceux qui la defendent une echappatoire aux objections formulees centre elle par Erigene. Cette echappatoire est la synecdoque, figure de rhetorique souvent invoquee dans le Periphyseon. Grace a la synecdoque, les deux difficultes qu'Erigene avait soulevees centre 1'exegese litterale de Gen. 3, 19 et qu'il considerait comme insurmontables, peuvent etre surmontees. Tout cela est bien dans 1'esprit des notes marginales precedentes, qui toutes ont etc ajoutees par i2. II est vrai que cette derniere note n'est pas ecrite par i2. Rien d'etonnant a cela. La fin du livre IV fait defaut dans le manuscrit R: nos seuls temoins pour les Versions I et II sont du douzieme siecle. A s'en tenir aux seuls criteres internes, cependant, tout porte a croire que les mots Nisi forte dicant. . . arbitrantur sont une note marginale et que cette note marginale est 1'ceuvre de i2. On constate done qu'en certains cas f a apporte, sous forme de notes marginales, des correctifs aux theses professees par Erigene. Plusieurs de ces notes commencent par les mots Nisi forte. Le role joue par i2 dans la transmission du texte du Periphyseon est si important, ses interventions si frequentes qu'on se sent mal a 1'aise de ne pouvoir designer le personnage autrement que par un sigle : ? (1'Irlandais numero 2). A defaut d'un nom, ne pourrait-on lui donner un surnom ? J'ai pense a Nisifortinus, sobriquet qui evoque la maniere par laquelle cet Irlandais introduit certaines de ses remarques personnelles concernant la pensee de son compatriote Jean Scot Erigene.20 Dans les notes marginales que Ton vient de citer, les reserves formulees par Nisifortinus portent sur deux points precis : le Filioque, le paradis terrestre. Ce n'est peut-etre pas sans raison. Certes Erigene ne conteste pas la legitimite de la theologie latine, selon laquelle le Saint-Esprit precede du Pere et du Fils. En realite, il ne pense pas que, sur ce point, Latins et Grecs soient en disaccord, car selon lui la formule latine filioque correspond a la formule grecque 8m Toft wo\) (per Jilium).21 Que Ton recite le Credo avec le Filioque comme le font les Latins ou sans le Filioque comme le font les Grecs, on ne devie point de la vraie foi.22 Attitude conciliante, trop conciliante 20 Par la suite, chaque fois que la chose sera possible, on parlera de Nisifortinus plutot que de r2. 21 Periphyseon, II, 601CD (ed. cit. 2531-2545). C'etait aussi I'opinion de Maxime le Confesseur: Ad Marinum Cypri presbyterum (PG 91, 136AB; PL 129, 577AB). 22 'Quoquo enim modo quis ecclesiasticum symbolum pronuntiauerit, sine naufra-

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sans doute aux yeux des theologiens officiels du monde carolingien. Erigene les a probablement scandalises par sa partialite evidente en faveur des Peres grecs. Dans ces conditions, Nisifortinus, avec les meilleures intentions du monde, a pu eprouver le besoin d'ajouter quelques remarques destinees a rassurer les censeurs concernant 1'orthodoxie (entendue au sens latin) de son maitre. Ainsi s'expliquerait la premiere des notes marginales citees ci-dessus. C'est dans le meme esprit sans doute qu'a deux reprises, dans la Version III, Nisifortinus a corrige le texte primitif d'Erigene. La ou 1'auteur avait parle du 'Saint-Esprit qui precede du Pere', Nisifortinus precise que cette procession se fait par le Fils : 'procedentis a se per filium sancti spiritus'.23 Assurement, ce n'etait point trahir la pensee de 1'auteur que d'ajouter les mots per filium. Ainsi qu'on 1'a dit, Erigene pensait que cette formule, familiere aux Grecs, equivaut au Filioque des Latins.24 Mais 1'ajouter la ou il s'etait abstenu de le faire releve sans doute d'une volonte de corriger ou, a tout le moins, de completer ce qu'il avait ecrit. Non moins significatives sont les trois autres notes marginales recensees ci-dessus. Toutes trois se rapportent a une des theses les plus caracteristiques de la pensee erigenienne, 1'interpretation allegorique du paradis terrestre. La encore, la pensee d'Erigene devait se heurter aux idees courantes, qui etaient celles de ses contemporains : sa position devait leur paraitre d'autant plus suspecte qu'elle s'affranchissait d'une tradition exegetique qui pouvait se recommander de saint Augustin. Une autre these, non moins caracteristique que la precedente de la pensee erigenienne et, non moins qu'elle, pretant le flanc a la critique est celle qui concerne le retour de toute la creation a sa purete originelle. Sur ce point, la position d'Erigene est toute proche de 1'apocatastase d'Origene. Quoi d'etonnant qu'elle ait paru suspecte aux theologiens traditionnels ? Or, sur ce point aussi, Nisifortinus a apporte au texte original des complements qui en affaiblissent notablement la portee.

gio sanae fidei recipio, hoc est, siue spiritum sanctum a patre solummodo procedere dixerit, siue a patre et filio, salua ilia ratione qua et credimus et intelligimus eundem spiritum ex una causa (id est ex patre) substantialiter procedere. Est enim pater causa nascentis de se filii et procedentis ex se spiritus.' (Periphyseon II, 612D-613A; ed. cit., 11. 3012-3018). 23 Penphyseon II, 609B (ed. cit., p. 478, Version III, 11. 6126 et 6139). 24 Periphyseon II, 601C, 609CD, 61 IB (ed. cit., 2532-2539, 2885-2894, 2952-2956).

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Ainsi, au livre II (543B), Msifortinus, evoquant le probleme des peines eternelles, en renvoie 1'examen a plus tard, mais en profile pour glisser cette remarque : Multis enim uidetur incongruum coaeternam beatitudini miseriam fore credere. Quibus euangelicus sermo uidetur resistere : he maledicti in ignem aeternum.^

Or, parmi ceux qui rejettent 1'eternite des peines et qui, selon Msifortinus, sont en contradiction avec 1'enseignement de 1'Evangile, se trouve Erigene lui-meme.26 Sur ce point, la position erigenienne est sans equivoque : 'Nihil deo coaeternum est'.27 Un autre point important de la doctrine erigenienne de 1'universel retour concerne le corps materiel et perissable, qui fut ajoute a 1'image divine (Phomme) en consequence du peche. Erigene professe que ce corps materiel, qui comporte la division des sexes, ne subsistera pas eternellement. Dans la note marginale suivante, Msifortinus dit le contraire : In eadem enim forma qua in carne uixit Christum credimus resurrexisse semperque permanere et permansurum esse. Quis autem negarit uirilem formam ipsum fuisse indutum prius quam pateretur et resurgeret ? Similiter etiam credimus omnes homines in eadem forma in qua cadunt resurrecturos esse.28

Cette derniere affirmation est en complete opposition avec ce qu'Erigene repete a satiete, a savoir que dans le Christ ressuscite 'il n'existe ni male ni femelle'.29 II semble evident que Msifortinus defigure ici la pensee d'Erigene. La seule facon d'echapper a cette conclusion serait de supposer qu'il se contente de formuler une objection qui sera refutee par la suite. Ce n'est guere vraisemblable. On trouve, en eflfet, en plusieurs endroits du Periphyseon, et precisement sur cette question des fins dernieres, des corrections, apportees par Msifortinus, qui contredisent ouvertement la pensee d'Erigene. Ainsi, dans la Version III, au livre II (584CD), alors qu'Erigene avait ecrit 'Tota siquidem natura reparabitur', Msifortinus glose de la facon suivante : Tota siquidem natura primordialis cum sibi superadditis in unum

reparabitur.30

Ed. cit, p. 204, Version II, 11. 1320-1324. Cf. Matth. 25, 41. Periphyseon V, 934D-935A, 941AB, 960AC, 963CD. Periphyseon, V, 939B.

Ed. cit, p. 206, Version II, 11. 1335-1344. Gal. 3, 28. Cf. Periphyseon, II, 537C-538A; V, 894AC, 896AC, 986AB. Ed. cit, p. 372, Version III, 11. 4262-4265.

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Certes, la glose inseree par Msifortinus pourrait, a la rigueur, etre interpretee en un sens acceptable pour Erigene. Car ce dernier professe que le corps materiel, ajoute (superaddituni) par Dieu a cause du peche, ne sera pas aneanti—Dieu n'aneantit rien de ce qu'il a cree— mais qu'il sera transforme, absorbe pour ainsi dire par le corps veritable et imperissable.31 Mais dans le contexte present, 1'addition des mots cum sibi superadditis, que 1'auteur n'avait point cru bon d'ecrire, semble indiquer une volonte de corriger ce dernier. De facon generale, Erigene insiste plutot sur le fait qu'a la resurrection universelle la nature humaine sera debarrassee de tout ce qui lui a ete surajoute en prevision du peche, c'est-a-dire le corps materiel, la division des sexes, le besoin de nourriture, de vetement, de sommeil, etc.32 II en sera de nos corps materiels comme des corps qu'empruntent les demons pour apparaitre aux hommes : les uns et les autres, tels de vieux vetements, periront avec ce monde visible, d'ou ils ont ete tires.33 Cette maniere de voir n'etait pas courante au neuvieme siecle; il est probable que beaucoup la consideraient comme dangereuse. Ceux qu'Erigene appelait les 'simples' (simplices) et qui, de facon systematique, interpretaient a la lettre (carnaliter) les textes sacres tenaient certainement a ce que la resurrection universelle restaure les corps humains dans leur materialite charnelle, y compris la difference sexuelle. C'est a eux probablement que pensait Msifortinus quand, par touches discretes, il corrigeait 1'auteur du Periphyseon. Une autre correction apportee par Nisifortinus au cours du livre III du Periphyseon (665D^666A), dans la Version III, semble aller dans le meme sens. Voici comment se presentent les deux versions. Cidessous, la Version II a ete reproduite dans la colonne de gauche, la Version III dans celle de droite. Les corrections apportees par Erigene (z1) dans la colonne de gauche sont imprimees en remain gras; celle qu'apporta Nisifortinus (z2) dans la colonne de droite est imprimee en italique gras. Non enim semper in accidentibus apparebant. Eadem ratione et nunc dicuntur esse, et sunt, et uere ac semper futura sunt, in quantum in

31 32 33

Penphyseon, IV, PL 122, 802A-803A. Penphyseon, IV, 807C-808A. Penphyseon, IV, 852CD.

Non enim semper in accidentibus apparebant. Eadem ratione et nunc dicuntur esse, et sunt, et uere ac semper futura sunt, in quantum in suis

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suis causis subsistunt; in quanturn uero in accidentibus, quae eis extrinsecus contingunt, dicuntur esse, nee tamen uere nee semper sunt. Soluentur enim in ea ex quibus assumpta sunt, nee uere nee semper erunt, quando omnis substantia ab omnibus corruptibilibus accidentibus purgabitur et ab omnibus quae ad statum suae propriae naturae non attinent absoluetur.34

causis subsistunt; in quantum uero in accidentibus, quae eis extrinsecus contingunt, dicuntur esse, nee tamen uere nee semper sunt. Soluentur enim in ea ex quibus assumpta sunt, in quibus uere et semper erunt, quando omnis substantia ab omnibus corruptibilibus accidentibus purgabitur et ab omnibus quae ad statum suae propriae naturae non attinent absoluetur.3"

Le probleme discute en ce passage est celui des accidents (qualite, quantite). En tant qu'ils subsistent dans leurs causes, on peut dire de ces accidents qu'ils existent. Consideres en eux-memes, cependant, ces accidents n'existent pas vraiment et n'existeront pas toujours. Voila du moins ce qu'on lit en la Version II. Grace a I'mtervention de Msifortinus, la Version III affirme precisement le contraire. Que Msifortinus soit intervenu dans la Version III (manuscrit B) du Periphyseon n'a rien qui doive nous surprendre, rien non plus qui puisse nous egarer. Cette version a ete etablie sous son controle. II n'est point surprenant qu'elle porte son empreinte. Plus inquietantes sont les interventions de Msifortinus dans la Version II (manuscrit R). Dans ce qui precede, nous n'avons parle que des notes marginales qui, etant redigees dans 1'ecriture i2, celle de Msifortinus, sont par la meme facilement reconnaissables. Mais il est des cas ou une note commencant par Nisi forte semble avoir ete integree au texte de ce que nous appelons la Version I. S'agit-il de notes redigees par Msifortinus ? La question merite d'etre posee, meme si, dans 1'etat actuel de nos connaissances, il est impossible d'y apporter une reponse definitive. Donnons quelques exemples. En Periphyseon II, 612BC, Erigene discute du Filioque. Plus precisement, juste apres le passage ou il s'interroge sur les raisons qui ont pu empecher les Peres du concile de Nicee d'inclure le Filioque dans le Symbole de la foi—passage dont il a ete question ci-dessus— il se demande pour quelles raisons les Latins 1'y ont introduit. II pense que si on leur avait pose cette question, ils y auraient repondu. Apres tout, concede-t-il, il n'est pas impossible qu'ils y aient repondu.

34 33

Ed. tit., p. 382, Version II, 11. 3451-3465. Ed. cit., p. 382, Version III, 3485-3499.

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Et il ajoute, non sans un brin d'ironie me semble-t-il, que, dans ce cas, leur reponse ne lui est point encore parvenue. Dans ces conditions, il prefere s'abstenir.36 La-dessus intervient une remarque, introduite par 1'habituel Nisi forte, qui semble dementir ce qui vient d'etre dit: c'est une liste de citations scripturaires justifiant 1'addition du Filioque dans le Credo latin. Nisi forte quis dicat: Non immerito hoc additum est, quoniam multis sanctae scripturae locis approbatur. Nam et ipse dominus dicit: 'Quern pater mittit in nomine meo' (Jn 14, 26). Videtur enim filius mittere spiritum quem pater mittit in nomine eius. Ipse quoque filius spiritum ueritatis spiritum sanctum uocat (Jn 15, 26). Filius autem ueritas est, ipso testante : 'Ego sum uia et ueritas et uita' (Jn 14, 6). Si ergo spiritus ueritatis est, profecto spiritus sanctus spiritus filii est.37 [Mulierem quoque AIMOPOYCAM (hoc est fluxum sanguinis patientem) sanans, 'Sensi', inquit 'exisse de me uirtutem' (Luc. 8, 46), et quod paulo ante diximus : 'Si ergo abiero mittam eum ad uos' (Jn 16, 7)].38 Item Apostolus : 'Misit deus spiritum filii in corda nostra in quo clamamus abba pater' (Gal. 4, 6). His itaque atque huiusmodi testimoniis quis catholicorum non possit approbare spiritum sanctum a patre et filio procedere ?39

La plupart des textes scripturaires invoques ici se trouvent rassemblees en deux passages du De Trinitate de saint Augustin.40 A leur tour, ces deux passages sont cites dans un petit traite (Libellus de processione spiritus sancti] qu'on attribuait autrefois a Alcuin, rnais que Ton attribue aujourd'hui a Arn, archeveque de Salzbourg.41 Ce traite etait accessible a Erigene et a ses disciples, puisque le texte nous en a etc conserve dans le manuscrit 122bls de la bibliotheque municipale de

36

'Sed quid eis uisum est de hac re, nondum in manus nostras peruenit, atque ideo de huiusmodi quaestione nil temere conamur diffinire.' (Periphyseon II, 612B; ed. cit., 11. 2995-3000). 37 'Veritas Saluator est. Ipse Philippo testificatur : Ego sum uia, ueritas et uita (loh. 14,6). Si ergo ueritas Saluator est et Saluator Filius Patris est, quid est aliud dicere Spiritum ueritatis quam Spiritum Filii' (Ratramne de Corbie, Contra Graecorum opposite., I, 3; PL 121, 230B). Sur la competence (fort limitee) de Ratramne en theologie grecque, cf. J. P. Bouhot, Ratramne de Corbie. Histoire litteraire et controverses doctrinales (Paris 1976), pp. 60-67. 38 Les mots que j'ai places entre deux crochets droits (Mulierem . . . ad uos) se presentent comme une note marginale dans le manuscrit R (f. 143v). 39 Penphyseon II, 612CD (ed. cit., 11. 3000-3011). 40 Augustin, De Trinitate, IV, xx, 102-123; XV, xxvi, 1-18 (CCSL 50, pp. 199-200 et 524-525). 41 PL 101, 68D-69C. MGH. Concilia, II, Suppl. 2 : Das Konz.il von Aachen 809, ed. H. Willjung (Hannover 1998), pp. 259-260.

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Laon, manuscrit qui porte Vex dono de Didon, eveque de Laon.42 C'est la probablement que 1'auteur des lignes susdites a puise ses arguments en faveur du Filioque des Latins. Quel est cet auteur ? L'esprit et le style nous orientent vers Msifortinus. On peut supposer que, primitivement placees par lui dans la marge d'un exemplaire du Periphyseon anterieur au manuscrit R, ces lignes furent par la suite integrees au texte meme du Periphyseon. A 1'origine, cependant, ce dernier se lisait probablement ainsi: NVTRITOR : . . . atque ideo de huiusmodi quaestione nil temere conamur diffinire. ALVMNVS : De hac quaestione non nimium haesito . . .

La reponse d'Alumnus se comprend mieux, si Ton admet que les mots Nisi forte quis dicat. . . procedere ? sont une glose marginale. En effet, la quaestio dont parle le Disciple est celle-la meme sur laquelle le Maitre n'ose se prononcer. Cela est moins clair si on lit le texte tel qu'il se presente actuellement. Mais, encore une fois, ce n'est la qu'une hypothese. Signalons une autre remarque relative au Filioque. Comme la precedente, elle est ecrite en minuscule Caroline et integree au texte de la Version II. Aucun argument d'ordre paleographique ne nous autorise a conclure qu'il s'agit d'une note marginale redigee par Nisifortinus. Et pourtant, une fois de plus, on ne peut s'empecher de penser a lui. Voici le contexte. Le Maitre a pose la question suivante : 'Que dire ? Devons-nous professer que le Saint-Esprit precede d'une seule cause, a savoir le Pere, ou de deux causes, le Pere et le Fils ?' Pour repondre a cette question, Erigene fait appel aux phenomenes du monde sensible (603C-607A), le feu, le rayon lumineux, la splendeur. Du feu, par 1'intermediaire du rayon lumineux, precede la splendeur (608BC). Dira-t-on que la splendeur a deux causes ? Certainement pas. De meme, on ne peut dire que le Saint-Esprit precede de deux causes (607A). A moins que (Nisi forte) 1'on ne disc que les images empruntees a 1'univers cree sont impuissantes a exprimer le mystere de la Sainte Trinite : Nisi forte quis dicat rationem summae atque ineffabilis diuinae trinitatis naturae conditae exempla superare.43 42 J.J. Contreni, The Cathedral School of Laon from 850 to 930. Its Manuscripts and Masters (Munich 1978), p. 33. n. 15. 43 Periphyseon II, 607B (ed. cit, 11. 2780-2782).

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Comme les precedentes, cette remarque vient au secours de la these qu'Erigene a combattue. Sous une forme polie, elle aneantit les efforts deployes par ce dernier pour convaincre ses adversaires. On ne peut s'empecher, en la lisant, de penser a Nisifortinus. En effet, elle rappelle une note dont nous avons parle ci-dessus,44 et qui a incontestablement etc ajoutee par lui. On est en droit de se demander si, en dehors des notes qu'il a ecrites de sa propre main, Nisifortinus n'est pas egalement responsable de quelques phrases, voire de quelques paragraphes, qui font desormais partie integrante du Periphyseon. L'hypothese n'a rien d'invraisemblable. Voici comment on pourrait concevoir la suite des evenements. Disons d'abord que le manuscrit R ne represente certainement pas la toute premiere redaction du Periphyseon. II a surement etc precede par un ou plusieurs autres manuscrits, car il incorpore dans le texte principal des elements qui, dans une redaction anterieure, se presentaient comme des notes marginales. Cela etant, il n'est pas impossible que parmi les notes ainsi incorporees 1'une ou 1'autre ait ete redigee par Nisifortinus. Ecrites par lui dans 1'ecriture irlandaise (z2) qui est la sienne, ces notes auraient ete integrees au texte principal par les copistes carolingiens. S'il en est ainsi, il faut conclure que le texte de la Version I, tel que nous le trouvons dans le manuscrit R, peut contenir des mots, des phrases, voire des paragraphes entiers dont 1'auteur est Nisifortinus, bien qu'actuellement rien, dans la mise en page du texte, ne nous permette de les identifier comme tels. Or, nous savons que Nisifortinus ne se privait pas de rectifier le texte de 1'auteur. La conclusion est celle que j'evoquais, non sans apprehension, au Colloque erigenien de Laon en 1975 : 'Qui nous garantit que les nombreuses additions marginales dont il (Nisifortinus} a enrichi le Periphyseon dans les manuscrits Ph 2/1 de Bamberg et 875 de Reims, et qui ont ete considerees jusqu'a ce jour comme des productions authentiquement erigeniennes, ne sont pas ses creations personnelles ? L'authenticite d'importants fragments du Periphyseon se trouverait ainsi remise en question'.43 Aujourd'hui, nous sommes en mesure d'affirmer qu'un

44 'Sed de diuinarum substantiarum generatione et processione suadenda seu affirmanda fortassis exempla naturae non sunt idonea.' (ed. cit., p. 490, Version III, 11. 6347-6351). 40 'Ein neuer Text aus der Gedankenwelt des Johannes Scottus', dans JSHP, p. 116.

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certain nombre de notes marginales ajoutees au texte du Penphyseon dans les manuscrits susdits par un Irlandais que Rand appelait z2 et que je suggere d'appeler Nisifortinus, representent la pensee personnelle de Msifortinus, et non celle d'Erigene. On constate que Msifortinus s'est efforce de rectifier la pensee d'Erigene sur des points qui pouvaient aisement preter le flanc a la critique : le Filioque, 1'exegese allegorique du paradis terrestre, la restauration de 1'univers cree (apocatastase) a la fin des temps. Sur tous ces points, les theologiens latins pouvaient reprocher a Erigene d'avoir accorde trop de credit aux Grecs. Luimeme s'est efforce de desamorcer cette critique.46 En depit de ses protestations, en depit des 'charitables' corrections de Msifortinus, ce but ne fut pas atteint. Dans la preface qu'au douzieme siecle Guillaume de Malmesbury ecrira pour son 'edition' du Penphyseon., on trouve la meme critique : Composuit et librum, quern perifision merismoi (id est de naturae diuisione) titulauit, propter quarundam perplexarum questionum solutionem bene utilem, si tamen ignoscatur ei in quibusdam, quibus a Latinorum tramite deuiauit, dum in Grecos nimium intendit.47

Que savons-nous de Msifortinus ? Peu de chose en verite. Sa personnalite est aussi mysterieuse que celle d'Erigene lui-meme. Compatriote de ce dernier, il fut vraisemblablement son disciple, et certainement un lecteur diligent et intelligent de son ceuvre majeure, le Penphyseon. Bien qu'a une certaine periode de sa carriere il ait pu, notamment dans le manuscrit R, faire office de scribe, il ne s'est pas contente de cette humble fonction. Ses interventions dans la Version III (manuscrit B) refletent sa pensee personnelle. La Version II (manuscrit R) contient deja un certain nombre de notes marginales dans lesquelles on le voit rectifier la pensee d'Erigene. Enfin, on peut se demander si la Version I elle-meme n'a pas integre quelques notes dont il pourrait etre 1'auteur. II ne s'agit pas de juger le travail opere par Msifortinus sur le Periphyseon a 1'aune de nos exigences en matiere de propriete litteraire : en rectifiant la pensee d'Erigene pour la rendre moins suspecte aux pourfendeurs d'heresies, moins rebutante pour les 'simples', il pensait peut-etre faire ceuvre pie. Mais cela ne nous empeche pas d'etre lucides. Quelles qu'aient etc les intentions de ce disciple qui 46 47

Periphyseon, IV, 830C; V, 880BC. Ce texte est edite dans mes Etudes erigeniennes (Paris 1987), pp. 511-512.

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corrige son maitre, ce qui nous importe, c'est d'apprehender la pensee du maitre dans sa nudite authentique et non point paree des ornements dont le disciple, par piete filiale ou pour tout autre motif, 1'a revetue. En bien des cas—chaque fois que, soit dans R soit dans B, il s'agit de notes marginales ecrites par la main z2—1'auteur de ces ornements est identifiable : nous 1'avons appele Nisifortinus. Mais dans Phypothese ou la Version I elle-meme aurait integre certaines notes dues a Nisifortinus, nous ne disposerions—du moins en 1'etat actuel de nos connaissances—d'aucun critere objectif pour les identifier avec certitude.

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IL LIBER VIGINTI QUATTUOR PHILOSOPHORUM NEI POEMI MEDIEVALI : IL ROMAN DE LA ROSE, IL GRANUM SINAPIS, LA DIVINA COMMEDIA Paolo Lucentini

L'origine e la dottrina del Libro dei ventiquattro filosofi II Liber viginti quattuor philosophorum entra nella storia della filosofia medievale alia fine del secolo scorso, quando il domenicano H. Denifle lo segnala come una delle principali fonti di Meister Eckhart e presenta una prima edizione sulla base di un codice che conserva ventiquattro definizioni di Dio, enunciate—cosi racconta il prologo—da antichi filosofi riuniti in sacro convegno.1 Le dure e ingiuste critiche rivolte da Denifle agli scritti eckhartiani coinvolgono anche il Liber, considerate un apocrifo composto nella prima meta del XIV secolo e responsabile delle pericolose divagazioni 'mistiche' del suo confratello medievale. Piu tardi C. Baeumker pubblica, in un contribute del 1913 poi ristampato nel 1927, una nuova edizione critica fondata su cinque codici recanti la stesura originaria del testo, costituito dalle definizioni accompagnate da un breve commento. 2 L'attribuzione a Ermete Trismegisto, contenuta in uno dei testimoni, induce Baeumker a collocare 1'opera, un 'manuale sintetico del neoplatonismo cristianizzato', nella letteratura pseudo-ermetica e ad ascriverla a un filosofo medievale che al confine fra i secoli XII e XIII si ispira alle piu diverse fonti della tradizione platonica e neoplatonica. * Ricerca svolta con il contribute del Ministero della Ricerca Scientifica e Tecnologica (Programma di ricerca di interesse nazionale FILOSMED, 'Filosofia e scienze della natura nel Medioevo. Studi e testi'). 1 H. Denifle, 'Meister Eckeharts lateinische Schriften und die Grundanschauung seiner Lehre', Archiv fur Literatur- und Kirchengeschichte des Mittelalters, 2 (1886), pp. 427-429. 2 C. Baeumker, 'Das pseudo-hermetische Buch der vierundzwanzig Meister (Liber XXIV philosophorum). Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des Neupythagoreismus und Neuplatonismus im Mittelalter', in Studien und Charakteristiken zur Geschichte der Philosophic, insbesondere des Mittelalters. Gesammelte Aufsatze und Vortrdge (Miinster 1927) (Beitrage zur Geschichte der Philosophic des Mittelalters, 25/1-2), pp. 194-214 (prima edizione in Festgabe von Hertling, Freiburg i. B. 1913, pp. 17-40). Cf. Liber viginti quattuor philosophorum, ed. F. Hudry (Turnhout 1997) (CCCM 143A), Introd., pp. v-vi.

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Per quanto numerose siano le attestazioni di un'intensa diffusione nel Medioevo, la storiografia medievale, tuttavia, non mostra molto interesse per il Liber: Poscurita della sua origine, 1'idea che sia uno dei tanti pseudepigrafi ermetici, la difficolta di una interpretazione coerente, la sua natura 'ambigua'—sospesa tra un linguaggio razionale e manifesti richiami alia dottrina cristiana—pongono il testo in una condizione d'ombra e inducono ai giudizi piu distanti. Cosi, e stato notato, se Gilson lo qualifica come un modesto apocrifo, M.-D. Chenu vi scorge una mirabile espressione della metafisica mistica del XII secolo.3 Nuovo slancio alle ricerche viene impresso da un bel libro di D. Mahnke,4 che ripercorre a ritroso nel tempo, dal romanticismo tedesco alia filosofia presocratica, la storia e i presupposti della piu celebre sentenza del Liber, 'Deus est sphaera infinita cuius centrum ubique, circumferentia nusquam',5 e individua la sua prima apparizione nel XII secolo. Pochi anni dopo, indagando sulla tradizione manoscritta, M.-T. d'Alverny scopre in un codice di Oxford un secondo commentario :6 il Liber con il primo commento le appare composto nella zona d'influenza della scuola di Chartres e di Gilberto Porretano, mentre il secondo commento viene attribuito al principle del XIII secolo. Solo nel 1997 e apparsa un'edizione critica completa a cura di F. Hudry, che offre imponenti apparati filologici e documentari e insieme propone una prospettiva storiografica radicalmente nuova. II Liber, posto nel solco della teologia aristotelica e nella storia delle scuole filosofiche di Harran e Alessandria, sarebbe un estratto greco-latino di un perduto Liber de sapientia philosophomm, tradotto poi in arabo e conosciuto da Avicenna, Gundisalvi e forse da Avicebron. Intento dell'opera, si afferma, e definire la trasposizione di senso necessaria al linguaggio quando si eleva alia contemplazione teologica ; non e presente alcun sentimento religiose, ma solo la considerazione del concetto 'Dio'. L'analisi delle sentenze, e 3 I. Parri, 'Note sul Libro dei ventiquattro filosofi', in Ob rogatum sociorum meorum. Studi in memoria di Lorenzo Pozzi (Milano 2000), pp. 155-170. 4 D. Mahnke, Unendliche Sphdre und Allmittelpunkt (Halle 1937 ; rist. Stuttgart-Bad Cannstatt 1966). 5 Liber, I, p. 5:1-2. 6 M.-T. d'Alverny, 'Un temoin muet des luttes doctrinales du XIIIe siecle', Archives d'histoire doctrinale et litteraire du Moyen Age, 17 (1949), pp. 223-248. Alia grande studiosa francese e infine dovuto un ampio elenco dei manoscritti : Hermetica philosophica. Appendix I. Liber XXIV philosophomm, in Catalogus Translationum et Commentariorum: Mediaeval and Renaissance Latin Translations and Commentaries, I (Washington 1960), pp. 151-154; Hermetica philosophica. Addenda et corrigenda, III (1976), pp. 425-426.

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soprattutto rimmagine della sfera infinita, invitano infine F. Hudry a datare il contenuto speculative del Liber dopo 1'inizio del III secolo.7 In un recente lavoro ho studiato il libro dei Ventiquattro attraverso un sistematico esame del pensiero e del lessico e ne ho seguito le metamorfosi fino a Nicola Cusano.8 Gli esiti della mia ricerca in parte confermano le ipotesi di C. Baeumker e di M.-T. d'Alverny, in parte se ne distanziano proponendo un'origine e una dottrina strettamente legate alia teologia cristiana del XII secolo. Per meglio comprendere le vicende del testo nel corso del Medioevo ripercorro qui in forma concisa le principali articolazioni della mia indagine. L'ipotesi di un'origine cristiana del Liber trova solidita ed evidenza su piu elementi: la dottrina trinitaria, che si scopre formulata con un precise vocabolario teologico, il teorema della creazione ex nihilo, allusioni alia Scrittura e alia tradizione dogmatica, citazioni quasi testuali da scrittori dell'eta tardo antica e medievale. Nelle sue tesi di fondo lo scritto porta tangibile il segno del neoplatonismo cristiano e condensa in un disegno, ad un tempo unitario e molteplice, una ispirazione che va da Agostino a Boezio, da Dionigi 1'Areopagita a Giovanni Scoto Eriugena : 1'infinita divina, 1'identita di uno ed essere, Dio pensiero di se, la circolarita del movimento trinitario, le processioni eterne e le processioni creatrici, 1'idea di una creazione continua, 1'illuminazione delle forme ideali, la teologia negativa e la vera ignorantia. Proprio in questa ricerca di accordo tra il neoplatonismo latino di Agostino e Boezio e quello greco di Dionigi, il Liber sembra percorrere le strade della riflessione chartriana e inserirsi in quel complesso dottrinale che muove da Gilberto Porretano e che M. H. Vicaire con felice espressione ha chiamato de imitate.9 II legame con il pensiero e la cultura del XII secolo diviene piu saldo se si considera che le due sentenze iniziali sono attestate per la prima volta in Alano di Lille (verso il 1165-70) e che tra le fonti testuali del1'opera si trovano grandi innovatori della speculazione filosofica, come

7

Liber, Introd., pp. v-xxin. La Hudry illustra con argomenti persuasivi la storia 'redazionale' del Liber: alia forma originaria (sentenze e primo commento) e seguita, al principio del sec. xiv, la stesura del secondo commento ; nello stesso periodo, o poco dopo, il testo viene private dei due commenti e ridotto alle sole sentenze. 8 P. Lucentini, // Libro dei ventiquattro filosofi (Milano 1999). 9 M. H. Vicaire, 'Les Porretains et I'Avicennisme avant 1215', Revue des sciences philosophiques et theologiques 26 (1937), pp. 449-482.

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Guglielmo di Conches e Teodorico di Chartres. Non solo, ma anche 1'impianto espositivo sembra denunciare 1'appartenenza a quest'epoca, quando, sulla scorta del commento di Gilberto Porretano al De hebdomadibus di Boezio, prende forma in teologia il metodo assiomatico e s'impone 1'esigenza di costruire Pindagine intorno a Dio con il rigore delle scienze matematiche. Modellare il sapere teologico sulPimpianto dimostrativo della geometria euclidea rispecchia un altro tratto specifico del XII secolo : e 1'idea che la teologia naturale sappia accordarsi con i Libri sacri, difesa da Abelardo e dalla scuola di Chartres che svolgono con sincera enfasi un'esegesi cristiana di autori come Platone, Ermete Trismegisto, Macrobio. Alia convinzione che i filosofi pagani con il ricorso alia sola ragione abbiano potuto scorgere la verita del Dio uno e trino si pud ricondurre altresi la finzione letteraria del testo, che mette in scena ventiquattro antichi sapienti riuniti in convegno per interrogarsi sulla natura divina. Senza forzare i dati storici e dottrinali, mi e sembrato, allora, di poter vedere nel Liber un'opera ricca di inventiva e di passione filosofica, composta poco dopo la meta del XII secolo, che alle soglie della nscoperta di Aristotele ha voluto indagare piu a fondo le risorse speculative del pensiero antico e impegnare la ragione cristiana in un rinnovato confronto con la tradizione neoplatonica.10

La fortuna dei Ventiquattro nel Medioevo

La storia del Liber viginti quattuor philosophorum nella cultura filosofica e letteraria del Medioevo e un lungo percorso, in parte lineare, in parte tortuoso e intricate. I problemi che ancora affiorano intorno alia composizione, alia natura e al valore del testo si ripercuotono nelle interpretazioni e nelle ipotesi relative alia sua influenza e difFusione. E indubbio che il Liber abbia conosciuto resistenze e incomprensioni. Ne fanno fede dati testuali e documentari precisi. Nel XIII secolo il francescano Tommaso di York nel Sapientiale (1250-1256) inizia un ampio commentario che si interrompe alia terza sentenza ;n 10 Lucentini, // Libro, pp. 43-46; sulla struttura assiomatica del Liber cf. pp. 13— 14; per 1'attribuzione in alcuni manoscritti al Trismegisto cf. pp. 106-109. 11 II commentario, presente nei mss. del Sapientiale (MS Firenze, Biblioteca

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tutti i manoscritti aggiungono alia fine che nell'esemplare seguiva un grande spazio vuoto destinato alle altre ventuno definizioni non commentate dall'autore, 'adest album multum in originali ubi debuerunt esse viginti una descripciones quas auctor non compillavit'. In un manoscritto della prima meta del XIV secolo il Liber e stato violentemente cancellato, come mutilati o cancellati appaiono anche scritti dello Pseudo-Aristotele, Alfarabi, Avicenna e Adelardo di Bath.12 Infine, in un altro codice il teologo parigino Etienne Gaudet ha apposto nei margini una serie di notazioni fortemente critiche.13 Questi interventi, autocensori (come forse nel caso di Tommaso di York) o esterni, risalgono tutti a iniziative individual! e non si hanno notizie di censure ufficiali: si tratta, come giustamente scrive M.-T. d'Alverny nel titolo del suo contributo, di 'silenziose' testimonianze sui conflitti dottrinali che scuotono i secoli XIII-XIV e non di condanne ecclesiastiche. Su questi elementi si sono sviluppate due interpretazioni radicalmente divergenti : M.-T. d'Alverny vi scorge il rifiuto di una concezione ancorata su un'intensa ispirazione neoplatonica e un radicale apofatismo,14 F. Hudry al contrario vi legge il rifiuto di un pensiero razionalista—la teologia aristotelica tramandata dai filosofi di Harran e poi elaborata nella koine culturale alessandrina del III secolo—che pretende di pervenire con il solo soccorso della ragione all'essenza divina, al quid est di Dio.15 Non si puo certo escludere un coinvolgimento del Liber nella disputa dottrinale sulla visione beatifica (1240-1250) o in altre

Nazionale Centrale, Conv. sopp. A. VI. 437, f. 20rv ; MS Vaticano (Citta del), Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vat. lat. 6771, ff. 37v-38v ; Vat. lat. 4301, ff. 25r-26r), e edito in Liber, pp. 87-96. 12 MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale, lat. 6286, f. 21v. Cf. d'Alverny, 'Un temoin muet', pp. 236-239 ; Liber, Introd., pp. LXVI-LXVII, xciv-xcv ; Lucentini, // Libra, p. 110. 13 MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale, lat. 15888 (ca. 1361-1364). Liber, I, 7, p. 6 : Verba sunt hec omnia'; XXII, 8-9, p. 30 : 'inintelligibilitas hoc'; XXIV, 13, p. 34: 'omnino nichil valent hec'. Cf. Liber, Introd., pp. LXIX n. 157, cv-cvi; Lucentini, // Libra, p. 110. 14 La tesi eriugeniana che la visione beatifica non sara mai 'facie ad faciem' (/ Cor. 13, 12 : 'Videmus nunc per speculum in aenigmate, tune autem facie ad faciem') ma 'per theophanias', la tesi cioe che non e possibile per un intelletto creato contemplare direttamente Dio, senza mediazioni teofaniche, nella sua natura e nelle sue interne relazioni, viene condannata nel concilio di Tarragona del 1241 insieme ad altre quattordici proposizioni, attribuite tutte a un certo Stefano, forse il domenicano Stefano di Venizy. E probabile che la condanna sia stata riconfermata nel 1244. 15 Liber, Introd., pp. xcn-xcix.

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controversie, ma la sua vera storia precede per altre vie. Se vogliamo semplificare il suo percorso filosofico, possiamo distinguere—oltre la presenza e le peregrinazioni dei manoscritti nelle biblioteche16—due aspetti diversi: la circolazione del testo nella sua integrita e la diffusione autonorna delle prime due sentenze, le piu celebri, che dicono : Deus est monas monadem gignens et in se unum reflectens ardor em (I) e Deus est sphaera infinita cuius centrum est ubique, circumferentia nusquam (II).17 II testo e conosciuto per la prima volta nella sua composizione originaria (sentenze e primo commento) da Tommaso di York. Al principio del XIV secolo e commentato una seconda volta, forse dal domenicano Nicola Triveth.18 In seguito altri autori, accomunati da una vivace opposizione all'impianto deiraristotelismo cristiano, attingono al Liber riflessioni di ordine filosofico e teologico : Meister Eckhart, Tommaso Bradwardine, Bertoldo di Moosburg. Anche un enciclopedista come Enrico di Herford, che e proteso ad accordare la rivelazione cristiana con la filosofia religiosa del mondo antico, ne riporta alcune proposizioni. II momento piu intense di questo percorso e costituito dalla speculazione di Nicola Cusano, che ai Ventiquattro si ispira nel De docta ignorantia per confermare o approfondire temi di ordine metafisico, per fondare il procedimento della conoscenza simbolica e per esprimere le ragioni ontologiche della sua nuova cosmologia.19 Una fortuna molto piu ampia, invece, si presenta quando seguiamo nei secoli XII—XV la circolazione delle prime due sentenze. Commentate dai piu grandi teologi e filosofi del Medioevo, attribuite il piu delle volte a Ermete Trismegisto,20 le immagini (cosi le definisce il primo commento) della monade generante e della sfera infinita21 hanno rappresentato per secoli uno dei luoghi privilegiati per discutere e riflettere su due temi centrali nella teologia : il problema della conoscenza naturale dei misteri rivelati e il concetto della infinita divina. Puo 1'uomo, con le risorse di un intelletto creato, ascendere ai misteri del Dio uni-trino ? E come concepire—se pur con 1'aiuto 16 Per una eccellente ricostruzione della storia dei manoscritti cf. Liber, Introd., pp. XCIX-GVII. 17 Liber, I-II, pp. 5-8. 18 Liber, Introd., pp. XLVIII-L. 19 Lucentini, // Libra, p. 109. 20 Lucentini, II Libra, pp. I l l , 124-125. 21 Liber, I, p. 5:3—4 : 'Haec definitio data est secundum imaginationem primae causae, prout se numerose multiplicat in se' ; II, p. 7:3 4 : 'Haec definitio data est per modum imaginandi ut continuum ipsam primam causam in vita sua.'

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della via negativa—1'infinita trascendente della causa prima ? A queste domande i pensatori medievali offriranno soluzioni discordi, che esprimono 1'evoluzione del pensiero cristiano. L'interpretazione della monade generante sembra conoscere tre momenti, non sempre cronologicamente conseguenti. In un primo tempo, nel XII secolo e al principio del XIII, Alano di Lille e Alessandro Nequam leggono la prima sentenza come la straordinaria testimonianza di una cognizione del Dio trinitario negli antichi pagani. In seguito, sulla scorta dei principi affermati nelle Sententiae di Pietro Lombardo, viene negata all'intelletto la possibilita di una tale conoscenza, se non per la rivelazione trasmessa dai Libri sacri o per interiore ispirazione : questa e la posizione che troviamo, con premesse, forme ed esiti diversi, in Guglielmo di Auxerre, Alessandro di Hales, Alberto Magno, Tommaso d'Aquino, Giovanni di Ripa e altri ancora. Con 1'awento di una forte reazione aU'aristotelismo cristiano, in pensatori o mistici che si rivolgono alle sorgenti agostiniane e neoplatoniche, la monade generante, generata e riflessa torna a manifestare una reale cognizione dell'interna vita di Dio : cosi negli scritti di Margherita Porete, Meister Eckhart, Tommaso Bradwardine e Bertoldo di Moosburg.22 Nella meditazione sulla sfera infinita o intelligibilis23 si delineano quattro fasi che investono il pensiero teologico e cosmologico. I primi commentatori, Alano di Lille e Michele Scoto, scorgono negli elementi costitutivi della figura geometrica—il centre e la circonferenza— la raffigurazione di Dio e del mondo, ma in termini rovesciati. Alano scorge nella circonferenza 1'immensita suprema che accoglie e sostiene ogni punto create, Michele Scoto invece legge nel centro la fonte immutabile dell'opera divina e nella circonferenza 1'universo creato. A unificare centro e circonferenza nella natura divina, con un linguaggio che precorre sia Meister Eckhart sia Nicola Cusano, sono i francescani Alessandro di Hales e Bonaventura da Bagnoregio : la metafora della circonferenza esprime insieme 1'assoluta semplicita e 1'assoluta infinita divina, 1'Essere che e uno e tutto, il minimo e il massimo trascendenti. In seguito Eckhart accoglie e approfondisce 1'identita del centro e della circonferenza, la proietta con la teoria della emanatio essentialis nell'increato 'fondo dell'anima', la pone a 22

Lucentini, II Libra, pp. 111-124. La prima forma e presa dalla tradizione manoscritta, la seconda dalle opere di Alano di Lille. Cf. Liber, Introd., pp. xvm-xix; Lucentini, // Libra, pp. 124-125. 2i

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simbolo e paradigma dell'esperienza religiosa e della vita morale, e sembra infine estenderla alia totalita del create, poiche 1'Essere di Dio e 1'essere vero degli end finiti. Verso la meta del XV secolo il Cusano trae esplicitamente dalla sphaera infinita la struttura concettuale del metodo simbolico : pensare una figura geometrica con le sue proprieta (e fra tutte la sfera e la piu nobile), estenderla all'infinito e poi applicarla a Dio. Insieme, pero, viene delineandosi un'altra esegesi della seconda sentenza, che la traspone sul piano cosmologico. Accade cosi che Tommaso Bradwardine la riprenda a simbolo di uno spazio infinito, ne create ne increato, condizione metafisica del1'atto creatore, e Nicola Cusano la ponga a fondamento di una nuova cosmologia, che sowerte il sistema aristotelico-tolemaico e propone 1'immagine di un universo tutto in movimento, quasi rota in rota et sphaera in sphaera, che non ha un centre immobile, non ha gerarchie, non ha finitudine.24

La monade e la sfera Questa breve esposizione della storia del Liber ci permette di comprendere la presenza, in una forma dissimile dalle precedenti, delle prime due sentenze in poemi medievali : il Roman de la Rose di Guillaume de Lorris e Jean de Meun, il Granum sinapis attribuito a Meister Eckhart e la Commedia di Dante Alighieri. Se, infatti, nella letteratura filosofico-teologica le sentenze della monade generante e della sfera infinita svolgono di norma un ruolo distinto, centrato rispettivamente sul problema della conoscenza razionale dei misteri rivelati e sul concetto delPinfinito increato o creato, nei poeti, piu intuitivi e liberi dai vincoli scientifici del sapere metafisico, esse si intrecciano per offrire un'immaginale rappresentazione del Dio vivente ed evocare con un linguaggio lirico o estatico 1'uni-trinita e Pinfinita divina. L'identita virtuale dell'unita e della sfera e asserita da Boezio nel De arithmetica sulla scorta della tradizione neopitagorica.20 Come la 24

Lucentini, // Libra, pp. 125^150. Boezio, De arithmetica, II, 30, ed. H. Oosthout - I. Schilling (Turnhout 1999) (CCSL 94A), p. 152 :18-22 : 'Sphera vero est semicirculi manente diametro circumductio et ad eundem locum reversio, unde prius coeperat ferri. Unitas quoque virtute et potestate ipsa quoque circulus vel sphera est. Quotiens enim punctum in se multiplicaveris, in se ipsum, unde coeperat, terminatur.' 25

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sfera si costituisce nella rotazione e nel ritorno di un semicerchio attorno a un diametro fisso, in modo da ricondurre al suo principio il termine della rotazione, cosi anche I'unita e un circolo o una sfera, circulus vel sphaera, perche ogni volta che si moltiplica il punto per se stesso sempre in se stesso ritorna, unde coeperat terminatur. La semplicita indivisibile dell'unita, principio senza principio e fine senza fine, si specchia nella perenne conversione della sfera o del circolo che vivono nel principio e nella fine di se stessi. La moltiplicazione della monade e la rotazione della sfera eludono 1'estensione e la frammentazione dello spazio. Ma ne il testo boeziano ne la tradizione che lo ispira ne i suoi commentatori orientarono nel Medioevo i lettori del Liber ad abbracciare in una sola meditazione la monade e la sfera. Solo con Alano di Lille, teologo, predicatore e poeta del XII secolo e in seguito con il monaco e 'magister theologiae' Galderico di Cluny, le prime due sentenze del Liber sono riunite e interpretate come metafora della vita trinitaria. Nelle Regulae caelesti iuris (1165-1180) Alano afferma che solo la 'monade' e alpha e omega senza alpha ne omega, poiche di tutte le cose e principio e fine ; e per la sua eternita, senza principio e senza fine, Dio giustamente e chiamato 'sfera', poiche e proprio della forma sferica mancare del principio e della fine.26 Sempre in quegli anni, nel Sermo de sphaera intelligibili (1177-1179) Alano opera, attraverso una singolare immagine geometrica, un piu intimo raccordo fra la dottrina trinitaria della monade generante e Pinfinita della sfera intelligibile. Dopo aver ripreso al principio del sermone la definizione delle Regulae—niente come la divina essenza e simile alia proprieta della forma sferica, che e alpha e omega, principio e fine, priva di principio e di fine27—Alano tenta di illustrare I'unita della natura e la pluralita delle persone in Dio trasformando la sfera in un triangolo paradossale, costituito da tre angoli retti. Mentre i filosofi naturali non possono tramutare una sfera in un quadrate o in un triangolo, la sphaera intelligibilis accoglie le proprieta di un triangolo particolare, cioe la trinita delle persone divine : un triangolo che ha 26 Alano di Lille, Regulae, 7, ed. Haring, Archives d'histoire doctrinak et litteraire du Mqyen Age, 48 (1981), p. 131 : 'Hanc (soil, regulam 7) probat ilia regula qua dictum est: solam monadem esse alpha et omega sine alpha et omega. Ex eo enim quod principio caret et fine deus spera dicitur. Proprium enim sperice forme est principio et fine carere. Sed non est spera corporalis, immo intelligibilis'. 2/ Alano di Lille, Sermo de sphaera intelligibili, in M.-T. d'Alverny, Alain de Lille. Textes medits (Paris 1965), p. 297.

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i lati uguali e gli angoli retti, perche le tre persone sono uguali fra di loro e possono essere concepite come angoli. Come gli angoli infatti consistono nell'incontro e nel bacio delle linee, cosi le tre persone si baciano nell'unita dell'essenza divina. In questo misterioso triangolo gli angoli sono retti poiche non deviano dalFunita della natura ne per il peso della generazione ne per la trafittura della corruzione ; uguali nello stesso tempo a due angoli retti e a uno solo, poiche le tre persone sono uguali a una sola, una sola a tre e ognuna all'altra.28 E dopo aver dedotto dalla sfera il triangolo, 1'interna genesi della figura viene descritta in termini di moto circolare per esprimere la dialettica triadica delle processioni divine : il primo angolo non precede da un altro, dal primo nasce circolarmente il secondo, e da ambedue, come in un'orbita, procede il terzo.29 II significato trinitario della 'monade' si intreccia cosi, attraverso invenzioni geometriche e metafore teologiche, con rinfinita della 'sfera intelligibile'. Nel Principium Gyrum celi di Galderico di Cluny,30 composto nella seconda meta del XIII secolo, troviamo un analogo, se pur meno elaborato e fantasioso, tentativo di connessione. Dopo avere distinto i quattro giri della riflessione teologica—emanazione divina, produzione delTuniverso create, unione delle due nature in Cristo, ritorno dell'anima alia gloria—Galderico illustra il primo movimento della speculazione religiosa : 'Primus, ut dictum est, girus est emanationis

28

Alano di Lille, Sermo de sphaera intelligibili, p. 305 : 'Cum autem cetere spere apud philosophos naturales nee quadrari nee triangulari possunt, in hac spera cuiusdam equilateri trianguli reperitur proprietas, idest, personarum Trinitas. In hoc autem equilatero triangulo omnia latera reperiuntur equalia, omnes etiam anguli recti, qui non solum duobus rectis, sed uni inveniuntur equales. Tres etenim persone sibi invicem sunt equales, que consequenter possunt dici anguli, quia sicut anguli in contactu et quodam osculo linearum consistunt, sic tres persone unitate divine essentie se quodammmodo osculantur. Isti etiam anguli censentur recti, quia nee generationis obtusione, nee corruptionis acumine deviant a rectitudine unitatis essentie. Isti tres anguli non solum duobus rectis, sed uni inveniuntur equales, quia et tres persone uni et una tribus, et una uni reperitur equalis.' 29 Alano di Lille, Sermo de sphaera intelligibili, p. 306 : Tretaxati igitur trianguli non ex alio procedit primus angulus ; ex primo nascitur circulariter secundus ; ex utroque orbiculariter tertio. Pater enim a nullo ; a Patre Filius ; ab utroque Spiritus sanctus.' 30 J. Leclercq, 'Un temoignage du XIIIeme siecle sur la nature de la theologie', Archives d'histoire doctrinale et litteraire du Moyen Age, 13 (1940-42), pp. 301-321. Per 1'identificazione dell'autore cf. N. Spatz, 'A newly identified text: the Inception Speech of Galdericus, first Cluniac Regent Master of Theology at the University of Paris', ibid., 61 (1994), pp. 133-147.

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divine. Ilia enim divina personarum emanatio in qua Filius per nativitatem est a Patre et Spiritus Sanctus per processionem ab utroque est quaedam sphera intelligibilis cuius centrum est ubique et circumferentia nusquam. Monas enim gignit monadem et in se suum reflectit ardorem'.31 La 'sfera intelligibile' e la 'monade' esprimono il primus girus della emanazione divina, la nascita del Figlio e la processione dello Spirito.

// Roman de la Rose di Jean de Meun

Nel XIII secolo e il Sermo de sphaera intelligibili di Alano che ispira alcuni versi del Roman de la Rose scritti da Jean de Meun.32 II contesto letterario e la lunga confessione che Natura declama a Genio, suo aiutante, e si conclude con 1'invito di Genio al Dio d'Amore a scomunicare tutti i suoi nemici e donare 1'indulgenza plenaria a chi accoglie le leggi di Natura e di Amore.33 Dopo Pesaltazione del1'uomo, che ha essere e vita grazie a Natura ma non rispetta le leggi della riproduzione ed e soggetto alia morte, segue un celebre passo del Timeo,34 la piu alta testimonianza su Dio degli antichi filosofi. C'est la santance de la letre que Platon voust ou livre metre, qui mieuz de Dieu parler osa, plus le prisa, plus 1'alosa c'onques ne fist nus terrians des philosophes ancians.35

E il significato delle parole che Platone voile mettere nel libro, che meglio oso parlare di Dio, piu lo logio e lo lodo di nessun altro uomo mai tra gli antichi filosofi.

31 Galderico di Cluny, Principium Gyrum cell, ed. Leclercq, p. 319. La sentenza della monade e attribuita, come anche in Costantino Pisano, ad Aristotele ; cf. Liber,

P -325 -

Guillaume de Lorris et Jean de Meun, Le Roman de la Rose, ed. F. Lecoy III (Paris 1970 ; rist. Paris 1982). II poema fu composto nel sec. XIII, forse da Guglielmo di Lorris verso il 1230 (w. 1-4058) e da Jean de Meun nel 1275-1280 (vv. 4059-21780). Ma sul problema deH'origine e della attribuzione le ipotesi sono tuttora le piu disparate. 33 Le Roman de la Rose, 11. 16699-19375, pp. 1-81. :i4 Le Roman de la Rose, 11. 19053-19082, pp. 72-73 ; cf. Platone, Timeo, 41a-b. 55 Le Roman de la Rose, 11. 19083-19088, p. 73. Ringrazio Mariantonia Liborio che mi ha anticipate queste parti della traduzione italiana del Roman de la Rose, di prossima pubblicazione per 1'editore Einaudi.

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Ma Platone non e potuto ascendere al mistero, per tutte le menti incomprensibile, d'une pucele che nel suo ventre ha accolto Pimmensita di Dio,36 qu'il ert 1'espere merveillable qui ne peut estre terminable, qui par touz leus son centre lance ne leu n'a la circonferance, qu'il ert li merveilleus triangles don 1'unite fet les .III. angles, ne li .III. tout antieremant ne font que 1'un tant seulemant. C'est li cercles trianguliers, c'est li triangles circuliers, qui an la vierge s'ostela.37

che era la sfera mirabile che non puo avere confini, che proietta il suo centre in ogni luogo, ma la circonferenza non ha luogo, che era il mirabile triangolo la cui unita genera i tre angoli, e i tre angoli tutti insieme non ne fanno che uno solamente. E il cerchio triangolare, e il triangolo circolare, che nella vergine trovo sua dimora.

La rivelazione della trinita e intimamente congiunta alPimmagine della sfera merveillable, che non ha confini e non puo essere terminable, che in tutti i luoghi proietta il suo centre e in nessun luogo ha la circonferenza. E nella sfera sussistono i meravigliosi triangoli : la loro unita risiede nei tre angoli, e i tre, nella loro interezza, non costituiscono che un solo angolo. Sono i cerchi triangolari, i triangoli circolari, che la Vergine ha accolto nel suo ventre. Per questo, prosegue Jean de Meun, la sapienza di Platone non e pervenuta a tanto, perche non ha contemplato 1'unita trina in questa semplice trinita, ne ha conosciuto la sovrana divinita rivestita di un corpo concepito e generate con sangue di donna. N'an sot pas Platon jusque la,

36

Platone non seppe arrivare tanto in la,

Le Roman de la Rose, 11. 19089-19099, pp. 73-74 : 'Si n'an pot il pas assez dire, / car il ne peiist pas soffire / a bien parfetemant antandre / ce c'onques riens ne pot comprandre, / fors li ventres d'une pucele. / Mes, san faille, il est voirs que cele / a cui le ventres an tandi / plus que Platon an antandi; / car el sot, des qu'el le portait, / don au porter se confortait, / qu'il ert 1'espere merveillable . . .' (Ma non pote dire abbastanza / perche non poteva da solo riuscire / a capire proprio fino in fondo / cio che nulla mai pote contenere, / tranne il ventre di una fanciulla. / Ma, senza dubbio, e vero che colei / a cui il ventre si gonfio / ne capi piu di Platone ; / che ella seppe, poiche lo portava, / e nel portarlo si rallegrava, / che era la sfera mirabile . . .). 37 Le Roman de la Rose, 11. 19099-19109, p. 74.

LIBER VIGINTI QUATTUOR PHILOSOPHORUM ne vit pas la trine unite en ceste simple trinite, ne la deite souveraine afFublee de pel humaine, c'est Diex, qui createur se nome.38

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ne vide la trina unita in questa semplice trinita, ne la divinita sovrana rivestita di pelle umana, cioe Dio, che e chiamato creatore

Nel Roman de la Rose, dunque, il tentativo di unire le metafore della monade e della sfera—seguendo le immagini trinitarie che il Liber aveva ispirato ad Alano di Lille—si inserisce in una visione compiutamente cristiana che ha il sigillo del piu grande mistero rivelato, 1'incarnazione del Verbo.

// Granum sinapis di Meister Eckhart Al principle del secolo seguente incontriamo la stessa ispirazione in un canto in lingua tedesca, il Granum sinapis, forse opera giovanile di Meister Eckhart,39 che si richiama al grano di senape dei Vangeli sinottici.40 I versi del canto, pervasi dall'intenso accento della mistica dionisiana, rappresentano uno dei momenti piu alti della poesia spirituale nel Medioevo tedesco.41 II poema e stato composto in medio-alto turingio e la sua melodia e quella di una celebre sequenza di Adamo di San Vittore (1192).42 A questo componimento sono stati

38

Le Roman de la Rose, 11. 19110-19115, p. 74. L'attribuzione a Eckhart e stata sostenuta, non senza suscitare persistenti dubbi, da K. Ruh, Meister Eckhart. Teologo, predicatore, mistico, trad. M. Vannini (Brescia 1989), pp. 70~71 (prima ed. Miinchen 1985), e accolta fra gli altri da A. de Libera in Maitre Eckhart, Le grain de seneve. Poeme suivi d'un commentaire latin anonyme (Paris 1996), con la traduzione francese del testo e del commentario latino (displace tuttavia non trovare in questo pregevole lavoro alcun riferimento alle fonti testuali). 40 Mt. 13, 31 : 'Simile est regnum caelorum grano sinapis.' E una parabola questa—il seme piu piccolo si trasforma nel piu grande dei legumi e diviene un albero ove riposano gli uccelli del cielo—che bene esprime la dottrina eckhartiana della identita tra il minimo e il massimo nelle realta divine. 41 Cf. Eckhart, Le grain, Introd., pp. 6-7 : 'Reduit a 1'essentiel, cela tient en un geste, decisif pour 1'histoire de la spiritualite : transformer les injonctions et les concepts de la theologie dionysienne en une experience authentiquement repetable . . . On y retrouve done tous les themes de la theologie de Denys, des Noms divins a la Theologie mystique, de la Trinite a 1'Un suressentiel, de la lumiere a la tenebre . . . C'est done peu dire que de reconnaitre le caractere eckhartien du Granum sinapis: on a la non pas un poeme mais le poeme d'Eckhart'. 42 Eckhart, Le grain, Introd., p. 5. 39

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dedicati due commentari: uno teologico e filosofico in latino, derivante dalla piu antica tradizione letteraria medio-tedesca e composto forse nella prima meta del XIV secolo,43 un altro in lingua volgare che svolge una parafrasi in forma di preghiera e risale forse al XV secolo. Ora, come e stato osservato, il commentario latino e il primo testimone del Granum sinapis : nella iniziale tradizione manoscritta, infatti, il poema non compare mai isolate, ma i suoi versi sono introdotti, 1'uno dopo 1'altro, nel corpo del commentario.44 I. In dem begin ho uber sin ist ie daz wort. 6 richer hort, da ie begin begin gebar!

II. Von zwen ein vlut, der minnen glut, der zweier bant, den zwein bekant, vluzet der vil suze geist vil ebinglich, unscheidelich. di dri sin ein.45

In principio al di sopra di ogni concetto e il Verbo. O ricco tesoro, dove sempre il Principio genera il Principio! Dai due come un fiotto, il fuoco d'amore, legame dei due, ai due noto, fluisce il dolcissimo Spirito sempre identico, indivisibile. I tre sono una cosa sola.

In questi versi risplende, quasi alia lettera, 1'eco profonda dei Ventiquattro. II Principio genera il Principio e da essi si effonde il fuoco d'amore, der minnen glut: come non ricordare la monade che genera la monade e in se riflette un solo fuoco d'amore, in se unum reflectens ardorem ? E tu, prosegue il canto, ne conosci 1'essenza ? No, essa soltanto si comprende con perfezione.46 Ecco, immediatamente, 1'inconoscibile vincolo dei tre si trasforma con folgorante intuizione nelPincomprensibile cerchio, abisso senza fondo che sfugge alle forme, al tempo e al luogo, che e 1'origine dell'essere e immobile sta il suo punto.

43 M. Bindschedler, Der lateinische Kommentar zum Granum sinapis (Basel 1949) (Easier Studien zur deutschen Sprache und Literatur, 9). 44 Eckhart, Le grain, Introd., p. 7. 45 Ruh, Meister Eckhart, pp. 67^68. La traduzione italiana di M. Vannini e qui riprodotta con rare modifiche. 46 Cf. Liber, XVII, p. 24:1 : 'Deus est intellectus sui solum'; p. 24:7-8 : 'sed se ipsum ipse intelligit quia ipsum ad ipsum general.'

LIBER VIGIXTI QUATTUOR PHILOSOPHORUM

III. Der drier strik hat tifen schrik, den selben reif ni sin begreif: hir ist ein tufe sunder grunt. schach unde mat zit, formen, stat! der wunder rink ist ein gesprink, gar unbewegit stet sin punt. 47

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II legame dei tre suscita profondo spavento, questo cerchio 1'intelletto non 1'ha mai compreso : qui c'e un abisso senza fondo. Scacco matto al tempo, alle forme, al luogo ! II mirabile cerchio e 1'origine, immobile sta il suo punto.

Neirimmagine del cerchio abissale che trascende le forme, i tempi e i luoghi, traspare il simbolo della sfera infinita. E se, diversamente dal Liber, il punto e detto immobile per accentuare 1'immutabilita dell'origine, esso non e un solitario centro indivisibile, ma come una vetta che 1'anima ascende, in un cammino verso un mirabile deserto che spazia sconfinato, sopra tempi e luoghi. Ad esso si addice soltanto il proprio essere. IV. Des puntez berk stig ane werk, vorstentlichkeit! der wek dich treit in eine wuste wunderlich, di breit, di wit, unmezik lit. di wuste hat noch zit noch stat, ir wise di ist sunderlich.48

La montagna del punto sali senza opere, o ragione ! La via ti conduce in un mirabile deserto, che ampio e spazioso sconfinato si estende. II deserto non ha ne tempo ne luogo, ad esso si addice solo il suo essere.

Non e un punto solitario, non ha similitudine con il centro del cerchio geometrico, ma come il centro della sfera infinita e in ogni luogo. E qui e la, dice il canto, us hi, us da, lontano e vicino, alto e profondo, non e una cosa e neppure e un'altra. V. us hi, us da, us verre, us na, us tif, us ho, us ist also, daz us ist weder diz noch daz.49

Ruh, Meister Eckhart, p. 68. Ruh, Meister Eckhart, p. 68. Ruh, Meister Eckhart, p. 69.

E qui, e la, e lontano, e vicino, e profondo, e alto, e tale che esso non e ne questo ne quello.

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Che, del resto, le immagini mistiche del Granum sinapis evocassero i Ventiquattro e testimoniato anche nel commentario latino. Si e pensato che 1'autore fosse ancora Meister Eckhart e che dunque 1'opera fosse stata pensata e costruita gia dall'inizio in due parti. L'ipotesi piu probabile resta tuttavia 1'attribuzione del commentario all'ambiente eckhartiano, che svolse un importante ruolo redazionale anche per le altre sue opere, e niente permette di afTermare che Eckhart sia mai stato commentatore di se stesso.50 L'autore sviluppa una lettura fedele all'impronta dionisiana del Granum sinapis, ma con una procedura inversa alia struttura spirituale del poema : egli trasforma 1'esperienza in cultura, ma non 1'annulla, e la cultura si mostra come centre di vita.51 La meditazione sulla monade, che conclude il commento alia prima strofa, attinge testualmente all'esposizione degli assiomi III e VII delle Regulae caelestis iuris di Alano di Lille, che ripetono le sentenze I e III dei Ventiquattro.52 Nella terza strofa, dopo aver ancora ricordato la sentenza della monade e 1'esegesi trinitaria di Alano,53 il commentario afferma—cogliendo il carattere paradossale della sfera infinita—che per 'punto' non deve intendersi il centro del cerchio, ma 'quel punto che e inizio e fine della circonferenza stessa', che e la dove la circonferenza inizia e la dove essa termina. Subito dopo riporta la seconda sentenza nella forma di sphaera intelligibilis, con 1'attribuzione a Empedocle,54 e ancora una volta segue la riflessione di Alano : la sfera designa la natura illimitata dell'essenza divina e la sua eternita, mentre 1'ubiquita del centro palesa la mutevolezza e la limitazione della creatura.55 Ma insieme il testo ricorre ad altre fonti e propone una interpretazione della sfera formulata da Michele Scoto56 ed elaborata nella Summa Halesiana. Considerata 50

Eckhart, Le grain, Introd., p. 8. Eckhart, Le grain, Introd., pp. 8-9 : 'Le commentaire refait 1'operation d'Eckhart en sens inverse : il transforme 1'experience en culture, mais il ne 1'annule pas, la culture se montre comme foyer de la vie'; p. 9 : le fonti, esplicite o implicite, sono le stesse del neoplatonismo medievale e tedesco (Boezio, Dionigi 1'Areopagita, Massimo il Confessore, Aristotele, il Liber de causis, Ugo di San Vittore, Alano di Lille, Proclo, Tommaso Gallo, Giovanni Eriugena). 52 Eckhart, Le grain, pp. 37-38 ; Alano di Lille, Regulae, 3, p. 127 ; 7, p. 131. Cf. Lucentini, II Libra, pp. 113-114, 125. 53 Eckhart, Le grain, p. 46; Alano di Lille, Regulae, 7, pp. 127-128. 34 Per 1'attribuzione a Empedocle cf. Liber, pp. xxni-xxv; Lucentini, // Libra, p. 124 n. 2. 3D Eckhart, Le grain, pp. 46—47 ; Alano di Lille, Regulae, 7, p. 132 : 'Centrum dicitur creatura . . . Inmensitas vero dei circumferentia dicitur.' 56 Michele Scoto, Liber Introductorius, Prooem., MS Miinchen, Bayerische Staats51

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in se 1'essenza divina e perfetta come una sfera, poiche e priva di principio e di fine, ma se e pensata come causa che conduce le cose all'essere, le limita e le conclude, allora e come un punto centrale : infatti, come il punto centrale insieme conclude e genera i raggi che si effondono nel cerchio, cosi Dio genera, conclude e limita le sue creature.57 In questo lirico incontro fra la mistica dionisiana e il neoplatonismo cristiano, il Liber offre a Meister Eckhart (come piu tardi al grandiose tentative di Bertoldo di Moosburg, che nella Expositio super Ekmentationem theologicam Prodi si volge ad accordare Dionigi 1'Areopagita e la scuola di Alberto Magno con la metafisica religiosa di Proclo) immagini e metafore di grande suggestione evocativa, improntate alia vita trinitaria delPinfinito e inconoscibile essere divino.

La Commedia di Dante Alighieri

Sempre negli stessi anni Dante compone la Commedia (1316-1321). Anche nel suo grandiose poema e possibile scorgere, sia pur mutate e trasfigurate entro il quadro di una suprema contemplazione, le metafore della monade e della sfera. Nel Canto XXXIII del Paradiso, che conclude 1'ascensione del poeta con un mistico precorrimento della visione beatifica, le tante rappresentazioni del divino, disseminate con celebri versi nel suo poema, sono come raccolte e annodate : la figurazione cosmica del Dio creatore e degli archetipi ideali, la determinazione che si awale del simbolismo geometrico della monade e della sfera, 1'evocazione teologica della incarnazione di Cristo.

bibliothek, Clm 10268, f. 15va : 'Nam sicut centrum finit lineas factas alicubi et ab ipso linee deducuntur et videntur extrahi atque produci in circumferenciam designatam, ita solus deus deducit omnes creaturas et, ut scit (ms. sit) et vult, eas limitat atque finit, unde ab eo exeunt et in eum rationabiliter convertuntur». Cf. Lucentini, // Libra, pp. 126-127. 37 Eckhart, Le grain, p. 47 ; Alessandro di Hales, Summa theologica, III, 1 (Quaracchi 1948), t. IV, pp. 26~27 : 'In quantum enim divina essentia consideratur ut res in se, perfecta est, cuius non est accipere finem bonitatis, et sic consideratur ut circumferentia, cuius non est accipere finem nee principium, sed est extra omnia : sic est de bonitate Dei. Vel potest considerari ut est in creatura, finiens ipsam et limitans et deducens, et sic dicitur centrum, quia sicut centrum finit lineas et ab ipso lineae deducuntur, ita creator finit creaturas et limitat et deducit eas ». Cf. Lucentini, // Libra, pp. 128-129. Questo passo della Summa e poi ripreso, con lievi varianti, da Bartholomaeus Anglicus, De genuinis rerum coelestium, terrestrium et infernarum proprietatibus, I, 16, ed. G. B. Pontanus (Francofurti 1609), p. 12.

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Dopo la guida di Virgilio e Beatrice, Dante e preparato e introdotto alia visione di Dio dalla solenne preghiera che Bernardo di Chiaravalle volge a Maria,'38 tramite supremo fra umanita e divinita. E per il poeta, che ormai ha conosciuto la condizione delle anime dopo la morte, le vite spiritali ad una ad una, egli supplica la grazia di elevarlo alia piu alta perfezione, verso I'ultima salute, salvezza di ogni creatura, si che 'I sommo piacer le si dispieghi. La contemplazione dell'essere divino e la somma beatitudine.59 Nell'esperienza della visione Dante riceve il fulgore di uno sguardo deificato, che ora nel racconto non trova piu luogo nella parola e non conserva traccia nella memoria. Solo resta, come dopo il sogno, il sentimento e la dolcezza dell'emozione, pur nella dimenticanza dell'apparizione. Cosi si scioglie la neve al fuoco del sole, cosi si perdevano nel vento della caverna gli oracoli che la Sibilla incideva su leggere foglie. Da quinci innanzi il mio veder fu maggio che '1 parlar mostra, ch'a tal vista cede, e cede la memoria a tanto oltraggio.60

In questi versi, e in altri che seguono, le parole del canto sono tutte intensamente volte a ricordare 1'impotenza delPuomo alia pienezza della visione di Dio. Non 1'intelletto, non la parola, non la memoria sanno conservare un vestigio della luce eterna : 0 somma luce che tanto ti levi da' concetti mortali. L'esperienza dei limiti che imprigionano 1'intelletto e la parola delTuomo dinanzi al mistero dell'Essere supremo e tema comune alia filosofia religiosa del mondo antico—da Platone a Ermete, a Plotino—e ha conosciuto vertici di insuperata profondita nel mondo cristiano. Ho voluto ricordare le parole di Dante non solo per meglio comprendere il dramma intellettuale che attraversa 1'ultimo canto del Paradiso, ma anche perche la loro ispirazione evoca con illuminante concisione le massime dei Ventiquattro : 'Deus est quod solum voces non significant propter excellentiam, nee mentes intelligunt propter dissimilitudinem' (XVI), 'Deus est intellectus sui solum, praedicationem non recipiens' (XVII), 'Deus est tenebra in 58 59

Par. XXXIII, 11. 1-39. Par. XXXIII, 11. 22-27, 33.

60 Par. XXXIII, 11. 55-57 ; 58-66 : 'Qua! e coliii che somniando vede, dopo '1 sogno la passione impressa / rimane, e 1'altro a la mente non riede, / son io, che quasi tutta cessa / mia visione, ed ancor mi distilla / nel core il che nacque da essa. / Cosi la neve al sol si disigilla ; / cosi al vento ne le levi / si perdea la sentenza di Sibilla'.

/ che cotal dolce foglie

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149

anima post omnem lucem relicta' (XXI).61 II commento alia sentenza XXI afferma che 1'anima, quando si eleva sopra di se e vuole conoscere la causa prima, si ottenebra perche non riesce a sostenere la luce increata, e quando ritorna a se stessa esclama stordita : Ecco, io sono nelle tenebre.62 E in questa tenebra che Dante supplica Dio di aiutarlo a rievocare e raccontare, anche solo per frammenti, la gloria contemplata : una favilla sol de la tua gloria.^ La prima ascensione contemplativa di Dante e verso il mondo archetipo, ove 1'essere di tutto il mondo nella sconfinata varieta delle creature, do che per I'universo si squaderna, sussiste nella eterna verita.64 L'attimo che gli fu concesso per guardare nel profondo dell'essere ideale e ormai, confessa il poeta, piu remoto dalla sua memoria che i tempi degli Argonauti,65 ma la visione che lo aspetta e ancora piu lontana dalle facolta dell'intelletto create, non perche il Dio immutabile che mai si trasforma si rivela in sembianze diverse, ma perche la grazia concessa alia sua mente, per la vista che s'avvalorava in me guardando, lo sprofonda in una piu intima conoscenza dell'increato. Le sue parole saranno ancor piu povere di prima : Ormai sard piu corta mia favella.66 Ecco i celebri versi che sembrano tralucere di una diretta se pur trasfigurata presenza delle prime due sentenze del Liber, la monade trinitaria e la sfera infinita. Ne la profonda e chiara sussistenza de 1'alto lume parvemi tre giri di tre colori e d'una contenenza ; e l'un da 1'altro come iri da iri, parea reflesso, e '1 terzo parea foco che quinci e quindi igualmente si spiri Oh quanto e corto il dire e come fioco al mio concetto ! e questo, a quel ch'i' vidi, e tanto, che non basta a dicer 'poco'.67 Ancora una volta il corto dire e i\ fioco intelletto vogliono significare 1'impotenza della parola e dell'intelletto creato dinanzi al mistero della vita uni-trina. Parvemi e parea sottolineano, a loro volta,

61 62 63 64 65 66 67

Liber, XVI, p. 23:1-3; XVII, p. 24:1-2; XXI, p. 28:1-2. Liber, XXI, p. 28:6-10 ; Lucentini, // Libra, p. 95. Par. XXXIII, 1. 71. Par. XXXIII, 11. 85-90. Par. XXXIII, 11. 94-96. Par. XXXIII, 11. 106-114. Par. XXXIII, 11. 115-120.

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1'inadeguatezza del simbolo e del ricorso al modello geometrico. II divino, avevano detto gli antichi e tornera a riaffermare con rinnovato vigore il Cusano nella Docta ignorantia, non e riferibile se non con i segni figurativi della geometria. A me sembra che la rappresentazione della Trinita e Tin-imagine dei giri riprendano—forse insieme ad altre suggestion! simboliche, come le sembianze trinitarie nel Liber figurarum di Gioacchino da Fiore—le metafore delle prime due sentenze del Liber. Certo, i 'giri' divini di Dante68 non sono una sfera infmita, e la 'circolarita' della vita trinitaria, come eterno movimento di processione e di ritorno, gia attestata in forme diverse nella prima riflessione cristiana, aveva trovato un potente approfondimento nei grandi sistemi teologici del XIII secolo, da Bonaventura ad Alberto Magno, a Tommaso d'Aquino.69 Ma e 1'unione dei due simboli, 1'Uno generante e la circolarita trinitaria, che sembrano svelare la presenza dei Ventiquattro :70 sorprendente, in particolare, e la corrispondenza tra la raffigurazione dello Spirito santo nella prima sentenza et in se reflectens ardorem, e il verso dantesco e I'un da I'alfro parea rejksso, e 'I terzo pareafoco. Nella vita circolare dell'essere divino Dante, con una invenzione che trapassa dal simbolismo geometrico all'economia della salvezza, pone al culmine della visione il mistero supremo delPIncarnazione. Quella circulazion che si concetta pareva in te come lume reflesso, da li occhi miei alquanto circunspetta, dentro da se, del suo colore stesso, mi parve pinta de la nostra effige : per che '1 mio viso in lei tutto era messo.71

Se il cerchio eterno di Dante si ispira alia sphaera infmita o intelligibilis, questa e pero spogliata del suo enigmatico aspetto e del tutto assorbita nell'abisso dei segreti divini. II pensiero e ora volto alia

68 Cf. Par. XIV, 11. 1-3 : 'Dal centre al cerchio, e si dal cerchio al centre / movesi 1'acqua in un ritondo vaso / secondo ch'e percossa fuori o dentro' ; XXVIII, 11. 15-16 : 'quandunque nel suo giro ben s'adocchi, / un punto vidi che raggiava lume'. 69 Cf. G. Emery, La Trinite creatrice. Trinite et creation dans les commentaires aux Sentences de Thomas d'Aquin et de ses precurseurs Albert le Grand et Bonaventure (Paris 1995). Per la concezione circolare della Trinita nei Ventiquattro cf. Lucentini, // Libra, pp. 28-29. 70 Anche un altro passo di Dante, pur se il tema delPeternita e del tempo aveva conosciuto celebri definizioni di analogo tenore, sembra svelare I'eco dei Ventiquattro. In Par. XVII, 1. 18 leggiamo : 'il punto, a cui tutti li tempi son presenti' ; la sentenza IX del Liber recita : 'Dio e 1'unico al quale e presente tutto cio che appartiene al tempo' (Liber, IX, p. 15:1-2; Lucentini, // Libra, p. 71). 71 Par. XXXIII, 11. 127-132.

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comprensione della figura deifica pinta de la nostra effige72 ma le all dell'intelletto piu non lo sostengono nel volo, e in questa tenebra del pensiero si conclude il poema. E possibile, ho detto, che altre fonti e figurazioni possano aver mosso il pensiero e la fantasia di Dante nella rappresentazione della divinita ; penso, tuttavia, che la congiunzione dei due simboli geometrici che aprono il Liber, la monade e la sfera, siano la spia verosimile di una diretta o mediata conoscenza del testo nell'esperienza contemplativa descritta nell'ultimo canto della Commedia. L'interpretazione che propongo non e del tutto nuova. Gia nella seconda meta del XIII secolo la troviamo nel celebre commento che nel 1375 porto a compimento Benvenuto de' Rambaldi di Imola (1338-1390). Grammatico e letterato, amico di umanisti come Petrarca, Boccaccio e Salutati, egli contribui alia diffusione degli studi classici commentando Lucano, Virgilio e Valeric Massimo. La sua opera maggiore resta il commento latino alia Commedia, una raccolta di lezioni tenute nel 1375 a Bologna.73 Nelle glosse al Paradiso XXXIII, 115-117, Benvenuto de' Rambaldi spiega che il poeta neH'ultima parte ha descritto la trinita nelPunita in forma di figura sferica e questa similitudine, afferma, e buona : Et hie nota quod autor bene describit Deum in forma sperica. Anche il Trismegisto infatti, avo di Mercurius Magnus, ha definite) Dio una sfera intelligibile,74 come attesta Agostino nel De civitate Dei.75 72

Cf. Par. XXXIII, 11. 137-138 : Veder volea come si convenne / 1'imago al cerchio e come vi s'indova'. 73 Benvenutus de Rambaldis de Imola, Comentum super Dantis Aldigherii Comoediam, ed. J. P. Lacaita, V (Firenze 1887). 74 Benevenutus de Rambaldis, Comentum, pp. 523^524 : 'Nella profonda, Ista est quarta et ultima pars generalis, in qua autor describit divinam essentiam quantum ad trinitatem in unitate, et humanitatem in divinitate; et primo describit trinitatem in unitate in figura sperica, dicens : Tre giri, idest, circuli, di tre colon, idest, distinct! in colore, e d'una contenenza, idest, eiusdem magnitudinis, parvemi nella profonda e chiara sussistenza, idest, substantia et essentia divina, dell'alto lume, scilicet, divini. Et hie nota quod autor bene describit Deum in forma sperica, quia, sicut refert Augustinus Trimegestus avus magni Mercurii, sic diffinit Deum : Deus est spera intelligibilis etc.—E I'un. Hie autor describit unionem personarum et productionem in divina substantia per unam nobilem comparationem et propriam iridis; quae breviter stat in hoc ; quod sicut in iride sunt plures circuli diversorum colorum qui reflectunt vel reflecti videntur ab uno in alium, et tamen est unus arcus ; ita a simili in ilia spera divina erant tres circuli distincti in colore invicem reflexi, et tamen erat una spera et una divinitas. Dicit ergo : E I'un, scilicet, Pater, parea reflesso dall'altro, idest, a Filio, come iri da iri, idest, sicut unus circulus iridis ab alio ; e il terzo, scilicet, Spiritus Sanctus, parea Juoco, propter ardorem amoris, sicut saepissime dictum est, immo et tota Trinitas potest assimilari igni; quia sicut in igne sunt tria, substantia, calor et ardor, tamen est unus ignis ; sic in Trinitate etc. ; et dicit: che spin, igualmente quinci e quindi, idest, qui Spiritus Sanctus procedat aequaliter a Patre et Filio'. 75 Non soltanto e errato il riferimento ad Agostino, ma Benvenuto qui inverte la

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L'ampia notazione di Benvenuto de' Rambaldi e compendiata nel famoso codice Caetani, uno dei testimoni piu importanti nella tradizione manoscritta del poema dantesco,76 che raccoglie nei margini molteplici glosse anonime in latino.77 Una nota finale, di mano diversa dalla scrittura del glossatore, al f. 234v riporta : 'Hoc commentarium est Marsilii Ficini.' Attribuzione testuale o possesso del codice ? Se alcuni hanno ritenuto che la nota attesti 1'appartenenza del volume alia biblioteca di Marsilio Ficino,78 altri hanno invece pensato a una attribuzione letteraria indotta proprio dal riferimento al Trismegisto, ormai, dopo la versione del Pimander nel 1463, abitualmente associato al Ficino.79 La glossa riconosce nella figura sperica perfecta della visione dantesca la seconda massima dei Ventiquattro, qui, come gia in Benvenuto de' Rambaldi, attribuita al Trismegisto, e cosi commenta : 'Vltima pars in qua auctor in particulari ostendit Trinitatem in humanitate et humanitatem in Trinitate, et paulum ostendit hoc et describit in forma sperica perfecta. Dicit Augustinus in libro De Civitate Dei quod Termegistus phylosophus avus Mercurii Magni dixit. Deus est spera cuius centrum est ubique circumferentia vero nusquam. Ergo dicit quod erat ad similitudinem arcus celestis qui habet diversos arcus et revolutiones diversorum celorum, et tamen idem et unus arcus est'.80 Ancora piu tardi, nel '400, Cristoforo Landino nel suo Commento alia Commedia (1481), illustrate dal Botticelli e introdotto da una lettera di Marsilio Ficino, scrive : 'Esprime adunque il poeta una essenzia in tre persone sotto figura circolare. Et molti secoli innanzi

genealogia riportata nel De cwitate Dei, VIII, 26, ed. B. Dombart - A. Kalb (Turnhout 1955) (CCSL 47), p. 247:46-59: Ermete 1'Egiziano, detto Trismegisto (cf. VIII, 23, p. 239 :l-2), e nipote, non avo, di Mercurius o Hermes maior. Cf. Asclepius, 37, ed. A. D. Nock - A. J. Festugiere, Corpus Hermeticum, II (Paris 1960), p. 348:3-6. 76 MS Roma, Fondazione Camillo Caetani. Per la descrizione del codice cf. G. Caetani, La prima stampa del Codice Caetani della Divina Commedia (San Casciano Val di Pesa 1930), pp. 3-13; M. Roddewig, Dante Alighieri. Die gottliche Komb'die. Vergleichende Bestandsaujhahme der Commedia-Handschriften (Stuttgart 1984), pp. 311-313 (con bibliografia). Divergenti le datazioni del codice : alia fine del sec. XIV in Caetani, p. 9, al principio del sec. XV in Roddewig, p. 312. 77 Caetani, La prima stampa, p. 11, attribuisce le glosse a un umanista della prima meta del sec. XV. 78 Caetani, La prima stampa, p. 12. 79 P. O. Kristeller, Marsilio Ficino letterato e le glosse attribuite a lui nel codice Caetani di Dante (Roma 1981). 80 Comedia Dantis Aldigherii, ed. Caetani, p. 496.

153 Mercuric Trismegisto havea diffinito Iddio esser una spera circolare : percioche la cognitione di Dio, e cognitione di se medesimo. Adunque e da se in se, come il circolo, senza principio, et senza fine.'81

81 Dante con I'Espositione di Christoforo Landino e di Alessandro Vellutella (Venetia, Appresso Giambattista Marchio Sessa e fratelli, 1564), f. 39 Iv.

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PETER ABELARD AND THE POETS David Luscombe

Over twenty years ago Jean Jolivet discussed the presentation by Peter Abelard of the philosophers of antiquity, their personalities and their teachings1. Jolivet explored the relationships which Abelard forged with these figures in the light of his Christian faith. By their reason and by the uprightness of the lives which they led, the philosophers of antiquity had come to a knowledge of God. Unlike the prophets of the Old Testament they did not know the written law, but they had knowledge of the natural law. Albeit obscurely and unwittingly, their writings bore witness and provided premonitions of the divine Trinity. They also promoted virtue and the particular qualities which Christians associate with the requirements of the monastic life: poverty, solitude, study and continence. Ranged alongside them were Biblical figures such as Solomon, a sage, and Job, a pagan. Moreover, the philosophers included poets. Abelard was himself a poet of distinction. His youthful love songs composed for Heloise were said by her to have been sung in every Parisian home and said by him to be sung still in many places, especially by people whose conduct is similar to what his own had been.2 These claims, made around the year 1130, have spurred a search by modern scholars for surviving testimonies.3 Some of Abelard's

1 'Doctrines et figures de philosophies chez Abelard' in Petrus Abaelardus (1079—1142). Person, Werk und Wirkung, ed. R. Thomas (Trier 1980), Trierer theologische Studien 38, pp. 103-20. 2 'Me plateae omnes, me domus singulae resonabant', Epist II, ed. J. Muckle, 'The Personal Letters between Abaelard and Heloise', Mediaeval Studies 15 (1953), p. 73. 'Si qua invenire liceret, carmina essent amatoria . . . quorum etiam carminum pleraque adhuc in multis, sicut et ipse nosti, frequentantur et decantantur regionibus, ab his maxime quos vita similis oblectat', Historia calamitatum, ed. J. Monfrin, Abelard, Historia calamitatum (Paris 1978, 4th impression), 11. 355-9. 3 The Carmina burana and the Ripoll collection have been favoured hunting grounds. Peter Dronke—to whom my own work owes so much—has suggested that no. 169 in the Carmina burana (Hebet sidus) may be by Abelard (Medieval Latin and the Rise of the European Love-Lyric, Oxford 1968, 2nd edn.), I, pp. 313-18. G. Ladner supported

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later poetry does at least survive and it shows considerable diversity. For his son Astralabe, Abelard wrote a poem of moral instruction, the Carmen ad Astralabium, which epitomises his moral philosophy.4 He wrote a short poem on the Incarnation, arranged to fit a geometrical design;5 another poem in praise of the Virgin Mary is attributed to him in the manuscripts.6 Raby wrote that Abelard 'holds a high place' among the hymn writers of the Middle Ages, and that his six Planctus on Old Testament themes are 'remarkable'—judgements which would find very wide endorsement.7 Unlike the hymns, Abelard's Planctus are not accompanied by prefaces which explain their purpose, although they appear to reflect Abelard's personal difficulties in life.8 In presenting his hymns to Heloise and her sisters at the abbey of the Paraclete Abelard complained of the confusion that surrounded traditional hymns whose authors were often uncertain. The hymns written by known authors such as Hilary, Ambrose and Prudentius were frequently so corrupt in their transcription that they could not be fitted to melodies. He therefore wrote a new collection in which he attempted to enshrine the main features of Christian history and

this possibility, 'Terms and Ideas of Renewal', Renaissance and Renewal in the Twelfth Century, ed. R. Benson and G. Constable with C. Lanham (Oxford 1982), p. 16, n. 91. T. Latzke has proposed Carmina burana, 95, 117 and Ripoll, no. 22: 'Abaelard, Hilarius und das Gedicht 22 der Ripollsammlung', Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 21 (1986), 125-46. See alsoj. Barrow, C. Burnett, D. Luscombe, 'A Checklist of the Manuscripts containing the Writings of Peter Abelard and Heloise and other Works closely associated with Abelard and his School', Revue d'Histoire des Textes 14-15 (1984-5), pp. 183-302, at pp. 256, 268, items 313, 353. 4 Ed. J. Rubingh-Bosscher, Peter Abelard. Carmen ad Astralabium. A Critical Edition (Groningen 1987). Henceforth cited as: Carmen. John Marenbon has remarked on the way in which in the Carmen Abelard has distilled his ethical teaching, The Philosophy of Peter Abelard (Cambridge 1997), pp. 315-16. 5 Ed. E. Ernst, 'Ein unbeachtetes Carmen figuratum des Petrus Abaelardus', Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 2\ (1986), 125-46. 6 'Lux orientalis/Et arnica specialis', ed. V. Cousin, Petri Abaelardi Opera, I (Paris 1849), pp. 329-30. 7 F. Raby, A History of Christian-Latin Poetry from the Beginnings to the Close of the Middle Ages (Oxford 1953), pp. 319-26, here 319, 321. 8 Cf. Peter Dronke, Poetic Individuality in the Middle Ages (Oxford 1970), pp. 116-18. The Planctus have been edited on more than occasion, e.g. by W. Meyer in Gesammelte Abhandlungen zur mittellateinischen Rythmik, 1 (Berlin 1905), pp. 347-52, 366-74. Dronke has edited Planctus 1, 4 and 6 in Poetic Individuality, pp. 148, 119-23, and 203-9. W. von den Steinen has edited Planctus 3 in 'Die Planctus Abaelards—Jephthas Tochter', Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 4 (1967), 122-44, at pp. 142-4, and L. Weinrich has edited Planctus 6 in '"Dolorum solatium". Text und Musik von Abaelards Planctus David', Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 5 (1968), 59-78.

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doctrine.9 For the Paraclete Abelard also appears have written sequences; these are currently coming to light and are being identified.10 In addition, Abelard was himself a figure who stimulated the writing of poetry by others. A poetic lament for Abelard, following his condemnation for heresy at the council of Sens, (Pkmge planctu nimio) even adopts the form of Abelard's own Planctus David.'' The author of the Metamorphosis Goliae episcopi, in his dream-vision, represented Abelard (the Palatine), at the time of his trial, as absent from the wedding feast attended by his bride, Philology (in whom the figure of Heloise is found), and by a company of classical philosophers and poets, including Ovid, Propertius, Tibullus and Catullus: Mournful Ovid brought with him his Gothic lass, Propertius brought his Cynthia, Tibullus Delia,

9 The most recent in a long series of printed editions of the Hymnarius is that included by Chrysogonus Waddell in his edition of the Hymn Collections from the Paraclete, 2 vols. (Gethsemani Abbey, Kentucky 1989, 1987) (Cistercian Liturgy Series 8~9). The first of these volumes consists of an Introduction and Commentary; for Abelard see chap. 2 (pp. 7 85). The Paraclete Breviary in MS 31 in the Bibliotheque municipale at Chaumont, which contains most of the hymns, was also edited earlier by Waddell, The Old French Paraclete Ordinary and the Paraclete Breviary (Gethsemani Abbey, Kentucky 1983-5) (Cistercian Liturgy Series 3-7). See too Joseph Szoverffy, ed., Peter Abelard's Hymnarius Paraclitensis. An Annotated Edition with Introduction, 2 vols. (Albany, N.Y. and Brookline, Mass. 1975) (Medieval Classics: Texts and Studies 2-3). For all the merits of this edition—on which see Waddell in the Introduction and Commentary which I have just mentioned (pp. V-VI, 21—3)—the reader needs to be aware of faults which were pointed out by Peter Dronke in his review of the work in Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 13 (1978), 307-11. For other information and details of other studies see Barrow, Burnett and Luscombe, 'Checklist', no. 291 and C. Burnett, 'Notes on the Tradition of the Text of the Hymnarius Paraclitensis of Peter Abelard', Scriptorium 38 (1984), 295-302. 10 C. Waddell, 'Epithalamica: an Easter sequence by Peter Abelard', Musical Quarterly, 72 (1986), 239-71, at pp. 241-2, presents three sequences that may have been written by Abelard. See also Waddell, The Old French Paraclete Ordinary and the Paraclete Breviary, I, pp. 125-6, 298-9, 349-50. Also P. Dronke (ed.), 'Virgines caste', Lateinische Dichtungen des X. und XI. Jahrhunderts. Festgabe fiir Walther Bulst zum 80. Geburtstage (Heidelberg 1981), pp. 93-117 (edition reprinted in id., Latin and Vernacular Poets of the Middle Ages (London 1991). 11 Ed. F. J. Worstbrock, 'Ein Planctus auf Petrus Abaelard', Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch, 16 (1981), 166-73. For two other poems about Abelard which show correspondences with his Historia calamitatum, and also for the poetic epitaphs written for Abelard and for Heloise, see P. Dronke, 'Abelard and Heloise in Medieval Testimonies', in Intelkctuah and Poets in Medieval Europe (Rome 1992) (Storia e Letteratura 183), pp. 247-94, here pp. 262-7, 280-5. Dronke's editions of the poems found in Orleans, Bibliotheque municipale, ms 284 are completed, with further studies by J. Benton and E. Pellegrin, in 'Abaelardiana', Archives d'Histoire Doctrinale et Litteraire du Moyen Age, 49 (1982), 273-94.

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Cicero brought Terentia, Catullus Lesbia— The sages had assembled here, none without her who was his own.

But the Palatine is absent, silenced by monastic enemies and by Bernard of Clairvaux: Against this philosopher, many learned men cry out: the cowled chief of the cowled populace— all like onions sheathed in their triple tunics— it was he who enforced silence on so great a sage.12

Nonetheless, poetry was problematic for Christians. In his Theologia, although Abelard found in the writings of the Fathers support for the view that the secular arts are useful in biblical study, whatever detractors might still claim, with regard to poetry he only found heavy and forceful condemnation.13 In the long discussions in book II of the Theologia Christiana as well as in book II of the Theologia 'Scholarium\ in the course of replying to critics of the supposed philosophical testimonies which support belief in the divine Trinity, he

12

Secum suam duxerat Getam Naso pullus, Cynthiam Propercius, Delyarn Tibullus, Tullius Terenciam, Lesbiam Catullus, Vates hue convenerant, sine sua nullus. Nupta querit ubi sit suus Palatinus, Cuius totus extitit spiritus divinus, Querit cur se subtrahat quasi peregrinus, Quern ad sua ubera foverat et sinus. Clamant a philosopho plures educati: Cucullatus populi Primas cucullati Et ut cepe tunicis tribus tunicati, Imponi silencium fecit tanto vati

ed. R. Huygens in Studi Medievali, 3a serie, 3 (1962), 764-72, here pp. 770-1. See also P. Dronke, 'Medieval Testimonies', pp. 260—2 with an English translation which I have followed. For other discussions of this poem see J. Benton, 'Philology's Search for Abelard', Speculum 50 (1975), 199-217; P. von Moos, 'Palatini quaestio quasi peregrin?, Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 9 (1974), 124-58; W. Wetherbee, Platonism and Poetry in the Twelfth Century (Princeton 1972), pp. 128-34. 13 Theologia Scholarium (henceforth cited as: TSch) 11.19-35, ed. E. Buytaert and C. Mews, Petri Abaelardi Opera theologica, III (Turnhout 1987) (CCCM 13). These passages are similar to ones found in Theologia Christiana (henceforth cited as: Tchr) II, 117, 117-a, 118-122, 123-124-a, 124-5, 125~a, 54-5, 125-bc, III, 6-8, 8-abcde, ed. E. Buytaert, Petri Abaelardi Opera theologica, II (Turnhout 1969) (CCCM 12). I have amended the parallels indicated by Buytaert and Mews in the concordance they provide in the introduction to their excellent edition of TSch at p. 304, and in the apparatus to the text as edited by them at pp. 414-24.

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praises the kinds of lives which the philosophers had led and also evaluates positively the kinds of society which they promoted. But he cites Augustine's De civitate del, II, 14 on Plato's view that poets are the enemies of the state (civitas saeculi] and should be expelled from it.14 And he cites the opening scene of The Consolation of Philosophy where Lady Philosophy banished the Muses of Poetry—'hysterical sluts ("scenicas meretriculas")'—from Boethius's bedside.15 He notes that the saints entirely forbid the study of poeticfigmentaby Christians, except for the purpose of learning grammar in childhood: they contain falsehoods; they are inane; they lead to temptations and they distract from the study of Scripture.16 Jerome called poetry the food of the devil; he abhorred the thought that Christians could playfully talk of pagan gods and he censured priests who read comedies.17 Isidore also declared that reading poetry is forbidden to Christians.18 Abelard writes that Christians should learn the liberal arts but should not be detained by poetic fables or by rare, obscure and imperfect constructions. Cicero, he writes—Auctor ad Herennium—deliberately refused to illustrate his manual of rhetoric with examples taken from the poets.19 Abelard expressed disapproval of the episcopi and religionis Christianae doctores of his own time who tolerate poetae, ioculatores, saltatores, incantatores and cantatores turpium within the civitas dei.20 In his Commentary on Romans 13, 13, where Paul denounces orgies and licentiousness ('not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and impurities, not in contention and envy . . .'), Abelard rounds on Ovid as the advocate of sexual impurity.21 Even pagan prose writers, rhetoricians and philosophers are less useful as models of eloquentia than the Bible and the writings of the Fathers. The Bible offers all the genera locutionum and all the ornatus verborum; it contains

14

TSch II, 26; Tchr II, 54, 125. De Consolatione Philosophiae, I, I, 7-12; TSch II, 27; Tchr II, 55. 16 TSch II, 22, 24; Tchr II, 120, 122. 17 TSch II, 24; Tchr II, 122. 18 Isidore, Sententiae III, 13 (PL 83, 686); TSch II, 25; Tchr II, 124. 19 Tchr II, 128. 20 Tchr II, 129. 21 'Ad has maxime comessationes et ebrietates, impudicitiae praedicator Ouidius fornicarios uenire adhortatur, ut inde facile fornicationum suarurn occasionem assumant', Commentaria in Epistolam ad Romanos (henceforth cited as: Comm.Rom.) IV (XIII, 13), ed. E. Buytaert, Petri Abaelardi Opera theologica I, (Turnhout 1969) (CCCM 11), p. 295, 11. 316-19. Cf. Ovid, Amores, I, 4. 15

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especially enigmatic parables, allegories and mystical involucra. Hebrew language is our mother language and it teaches urbane expression. The people of Palestine were familiar with parables, and Christ thus spoke to them in parables. The Scriptures offer abundant sustenance and delights as well as perfect doctrine on three levels—the levels of pleasant composition (which may be learned more fully and easily from there than from the poets), moral rectitude and edification of the soul. Moreover, none of the poets and none of the philosophers compares with Jerome in maturity of style or with Gregory in charm or with Augustine in sublimity. In selecting these models of eloquentia and ornatus, Abelard follows what Augustine had written in the fourth book of his De doctrina Christiana, with the qualification, noticed by Louk Engels in the course of his perceptive discussion of Abelard as a writer, that his preferred models are Jerome, Gregory and Augustine, whereas Augustine himself had chosen Paul, Cyprian and Ambrose:22 Si iuvat Christianum legere ad eruditionem locutionum vel sententiarum, numquid hoc plene efficere non potest nisi poeticis studendo figmentis et inanibus fabulis? Quae sunt genera locutionum, qui ornatus verborum quae sacra Pagina non habeat, maxime parabolarum et allegoriarum aenigmatibus referta et ubique fere mysticis redundans involucris? Quae sunt urbanitates locutionum quae mater linguarum Hebraica non docuerit, praesertim cum Palestinae terrae etiam plebem parabolis esse assuetam non lateat, ut his quoque Dominum lesum loqui eis oporteret cum Evangelium praedicaret? Quae deesse fercula possunt spiritual! Domini mensae, id est Sacrae Scripturae, in qua, iuxta Gregorium, et elephans natat et agnus ambulat? Cuius quidem intelligentia ita omnium alimentorum et deliciarum copiis exuberat, ut sola ipsa triplici expositione perfectionem teneat doctrinae, in qua quislibet et dictaminis suavitatem multo amplius et facilius quam apud poetas addiscat, et simul morum honestatem et aedificationem animae plene percipiet. Quis enim, non dico poetarum, verum etiam philosophorum, maturitate dictaminis beatum Hieronymum, quis in suavitate beatum Gregorium, quis in sublimitate beatum aequiparet Augustinum? In illo quidem Ciceronis eloquentiam, in istis Boethii suavitatem et Aristotelis invenies subtilitatem, et, ni fallor, multo amplius, si singulorum conferas scripta. Quid de eloquentia Cypriani sive Origenis et

22

De doctrina christiana, IV, 20-1 (PL 34, 107-14); L. Engels, 'Abelard ecrivain' in Peter Abelard. Proceedings of the International Conference, Louvain, May 10-12, 1971, ed. E. M. Buytaert (Leuven 1974) (Mediaevalia Lovaniensia, Series 1/Studia 2), pp. 12-37, here pp. 29-30.

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aliorum innumerabilium ecclesiasticorum doctorum, tam Graecorum quam innumerabilium ecclesiasticorum doctorum, tam Graecorum quam Latinorum, in omnibus liberalium artium studiis eruditissimorum? . . ,23

In spite of these warnings and reservations Abelard revelled in poetry without ever saying why he did so.24 His use of Christian poetry was perhaps restrained,25 but, as Engels saw, Abelard liked to use and re-use a stock of quotations from classical poetry, possibly having taken these quotations from a secondary source and certainly for the sake of ornatus verborum.26 The quotations included the familiar lines that had been impressed on many minds at an early age and pervaded the everyday world of cultivated, proverbial usage. Juvenal's easily remembered quips were among those used in passing to sharpen an argument or enhance a comment: 'nothing is more unbearable than a wealthy woman'; 27 'love of money grows along with the money itself'.28 Virgil is cited to illustrate a point of grammar.29 Ovid

23

Tchr II, 126-7. The author of the Tsagoge in theologiam, clearly a follower of Abelard's teachings, commended the positive, ethical benefits of poetry: Toesis autem est scientia claudens in metro orationem gravem et illustrem. Que per satiram vicia eliminat et virtutes inserit; per tragediam tolerantiam laborum et fortune contemptum. Communiter autem omne poema fortium et ignavorum exempla proponit', Tsagoge in theologiam, ed. A. Landgraf, Ecrits theologiques de I'ecole d'Abelard (Louvain 1934) (Spicilegium sacrum lovaniense 14), ed. Landgraf, p. 72, 11. 20-4. 23 Caelius Sedulius is cited by name in the course of discussions of the Trinity: 'Non quia qui summus pater est, et filius hie est, sed quia quod summus pater est, et filius hoc est', Carmen paschale I, 319-20 in TSch 1,20 and Tsch 27; Secundum M. Petrum Sententie, XX, ed. L. Minio-Paluello, Twelfth Century Logic. Texts and Studies II: Abaelardiana inedita (Rome 1958), pp. 116-17. He is also cited on the resurrection where he is called 'egregius versificator', Carmen paschale, V, 315-18, 323-7, 358-66 and V, 376-85 in Sic et non LXXXVI, 5, 6, 7 and LXXXVIII, 2, ed. B. Boyer and R. McKeon, Peter Abailard, Sic et Non: A Critical Edition (Chicago 1976-77). Henceforth cited as: SN. Sidonius likewise is cited by name, in praise of virginity, Carmen 24 in Tchr II, 106 and Epist. VII, ed. Mediaeval Studies 17 (1955), 240-81, here. Muckle, 'The Letter of Heloise on the Religious Life and Abelard's First Reply', p. 276. 26 Engels, 'Abelard ecrivain', p. 27. 27 'Intolerabilius nihil est quam femina dives', Satire, VI, 460, cited in Historia calamitatum, 1. 1476. Cf the imitation in the Carmen ad Astralabium, ed. RubinghBosscher, 1. 525: "intolerabilius nichil est quam uita superbi". 28 "Crescit amor nummi quantum ipsa pecunia crescit", Satire XIV, 139 in Comm.Rom. Ill (VII,5), ed. Buytaert, p. 189, 1. 94. Another example is from Satire X, 342 in Carmen, 1. 150, Historia calamitatum, ed. Monfrin, 11. 373ff., Epist. VII, ed. Muckle. 'The Letter of Heloise on the Religious Life and Abelard's First Reply', p. 255,'ll. 116ff. (from Jerome, Epist. 147, 10 (PL 22, 1203)). 29 Aeneid, VIII, 561 ('Praeneste sub ipsa') in Comm.Rom. IV (IX, 24), ed. Buytaert, p. 244, 1. 410. 24

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is cleverly turned inside out, and in the direction of a philosophical nominalism supported by a characteristically Abelardian distinction between vox and substantia, to pinpoint the dilemma facing him in his exile at Quincey: 'though my person lay hidden in this place, my fame travelled over all the world, resounding everywhere like that poetic invention, Echo, so called because she has a large voice and no substance'.30 Ovid also provides moral edification: 'we always strive for what is forbidden and desire what is denied'.31 Virgil's 'to spare the vanquished and put down the proud' is included in the poem of advice which Abelard wrote for his son.32 Lucan's praise of Cato in the second book of Pharsalia provides the Philosopher in Abelard's Dialogus with an illustration of justice: justice seeks the common good rather than one's own and Lucan's Cato, the ascetic husband and father of the state ('urbi pater, urbique maritus') who worshipped justice and practised virtue without compromise, illustrates the ideal of Stoic apathy brought into the service of his country and of the world.33 Horace is habitually cited for the sake of moral edification: his warning about money—'more money brings more worry'—precedes the example taken from Juvenal in Abelard's Commentary on Romans.34 The moral usefulness of poetic illustration is particularly evident in the way in which Abelard in his Ethics presents Horace's line: 'good persons hate to sin because they love virtue' as 'the poetic view of honourable behaviour'.35 Likewise Abelard presents Amiclas as an example of security provided by

30 '. . . illius poetici figmenti quod Equo dicitur instar penitus retinente, quod videlicet plurimum vocis habet sed nichil substantie', Historia calamitatum, 11. 1197—1200. Cf Metamorphoses, III, 359: 'corpus adhuc Echo, non vox erat'. 31 'Nitimur in vetitum semper cupimusque negata', Ovid, Amores III, 4,17 in Tchr, II, 21; Dialogus inter Philosophum, Judaeum et Christianum, ed. R. Thomas (Stuttgart-Bad Cannstatt 1970), 1. 529; Comm.Rom. Ill (VII, 9), p. 198, 1. 381; and Rule, ed. T. P. McLaughlin, 'Abelard's Rule for Religious Women', Mediaeval Studies 18 (1956), 241-92, here p. 275. Heloise cites Ovid, Ars amatoria, I, 233-4, 239-40, 243-4, to display the dangers for chastity of feasting and drinking wine, Epist. VI, ed. J. T. Muckle, 'The Letter of Heloise on the Religious Life and Abelard's First Reply', p. 242. 32 'parcere subiectis et debellare superbos', Aeneid, VI, 853 in Carmen, 1. 259. 33 Pharsalia II, 11. 377-8, 380-3, 388-90 in Dialogus, ed. Thomas, 11. 2194-5, 2195-17, 2199. See Peter von Moos, 'Lucan und Abaelard', Hommages: Andre Boutemy (Brussels 1976) (Collection Latomus 145) pp. 413-43, here pp. 431-7. Abelard reads the text itself ('Et post aliqua'). 34 'Crescentem sequitur cura pecuniam', Carmen III, 17 in Comm.Rom. Ill (VII, 5), p. 189, 1. 92. 35 'oderunt peccare boni virtutis amore', Epist. I, 16,52, in Ethica, ed. D. Luscombe, Peter Abelard's Ethics (Oxford 1971), p. 72: 'poeticam sententiam de morum scilicet

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poverty36 and Cato, although thirsty, as an example of generosity in giving water to others.37 He cites Juvenal to show that pagans punished priestesses who were unfaithful.38 To illustrate demons and magic in his Sermon on the Epiphany (Sermon IV) he names 'Lucanus' and, borrowing from Isidore, cites him: 'incantations destroy a mind undefiled by a horrid draught of poison.'39 Abelard also, although far less often, exploits classical mythology. He refers to Daedalus and Icarus to illustrate the folly of excessive ambition40 and to Thersites and Achilles.41 He mockingly likens himself to Ajax the braggart when describing the outcome of his disputes with William of Champeaux: 'if you wish to know the outcome of this struggle, I was not the loser'.42 Quotations from and allusions to classical sources are, then, made frequently43. Quotations are usually introduced anonymously with a brief reference such as poeta, ipse poeta, poete dictum, poetica sententia, satiricus ilk, comicus, scriptum est, illius poetici figmenti or illud poeticum. These are standard means of signalling a quotation which has been entirely detached from its written context and source and which is not usually submitted to further enquiry or discussion. The borrowings are not always easily recognisable, although—as F. Chatillon remarked in his discussion of the role of Terence's Eunuch in Abelard's autobiography—the reminiscences sometimes enjoyed proverbial status.44 In her edition of the Carmen ad Astralabium Dr Rubingh-Bosscher,

honestate'; also cited in Tchr II, 27 and Epist. VII, ed. Muckle, 'Letter of Heloise', p. 277. Cf. Carmen, 11. 543-4. 36 Lucan, Pharsalia, V, 520ff. in Carmen, 1. 391. 37 Lucan, Pharsalia, IX, 498-510 in Carmen, 11. 61-4; Ruk, p. 257, 11. 5ff. 38 Satire, IV, 9-10 in Epist. VII, ed. Muckle, 'Letter of Heloise', pp. 277-8: 'Juvenalis . . . in quarta satira contra Crispinum'. 39 'Mens hausti nulla sanie polluta veneni/Incantata perit', Pharsalia VI, 457; Isidore, Etymologiae, VIII, 9, 9-10 in Sermo 4 (PL 178, 410B). See von Moos, 'Lucan und Abaelard', p. 416, n. 6. 40 Metamorphoses, VIII, 183ff.; Carmen, 11. 659-60. 41 Juvenal, Satire, VIII, 269-71 in Carmen, 1. 244. 42 'si quaeritis huius/Fortunam pugna, non sum superatus ab illo', Metamorphoses XIII, 89-90; Historia calamitatum, 11. 151-2. 43 See W. G. East, 'Abelard's allusive style', Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 34 (1999), 41-9. Also, Szoverffy's Introduction to Abelard's hymns, 'Recurrent Features and Peculiarities', Hymnarius Paraclitensis, I, pp. 85—137. 44 F. Chatillon, 'Notes abelardiennes IV, Revue du Moyen Age Latin 21 (1965), 98-103, here p. 99; Chatillon relates 'res ipsa . . . indicat' in Historia calamitatum, 11.

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identified more than a dozen 'silent' borrowings from the Distichs of Cato within the poem along with many other adaptations of, and allusions to, other works. Moreover, she found many instances when these allusions reappear in other writings of Abelard. The themes for which Cato himself provides seasoning in the Carmen include: following the sayings of the learned and the deeds of the good (1. 25), being true to oneself (11. 163-4), old age (11. 311-12), the repentance of Heloise (11. 379-S4),45 avarice and generosity (11. 401-4), how wives relate to their husbands' friends (1. 485), avoidance of harm to others (11. 495-6), the speed with which hard-earned gains can be dissipated (11. 733-4), not teaching what one does not know (11. 801-2), loquacity (11. 823-4), and anger (11. 987~8).46 Abelard particularly liked to bring together patristic, biblical and classical references. Lucan's 'Caesar was everything' leads into Paul's teaching that God is 'all in all' in the TJieologia 'Summi boni'.47 Ovid's Metamorphoses was put to use to castigate unworthy bishops who claim the power of the keys but who fail to use them to good effect: 'skills which help mankind fail to help their lord'.48 Jerome's remark on how we enjoy praise while saying that we are unworthy of it is coupled with a reference to the lusty Galatea running off to hide in the willows but hoping to be seen first.49 On another occasion, following Jerome again, Abelard quotes both Apostolus and Comicus to show that truth hurts.50 He supports Jerome's explanation of Nabuchodonosor doing God's will with one of Juvenal's Satires?1 In Letter 5 he takes from Persius's first Satire a tag ('illud poeticum') to balance a refer-

153-4 to Terence, Eunuch, 705, and 'si agnam teneram famelico lupo committeret', ibid., 11. 323-4 to Terence, Eunuch, 832 ('ovem lupo commisti'). 45 Cf. Heloise, Epist. IV, ed. Muckle, 'Personal Letters, p. 80, 1. 17f. 46 Other allusions to Cato have been found at U. 5-6, 72, 823-6. 47 "Omnia Caesar erat", Pharsalia III, 108, "omnia in omnibus", I Cor. 15, 28 in TTieologia 'Summi boni' (henceforth cited as: TSum), II, 101, ed. E. Buytaert and C. Mews, Petri Abaelardi Opera theologica, III (Turnhout 1987) (CCCM 13). 48 'Nee prosunt domino, quae prosunt omnibus, artes', I, 524 in Ethics, p. 111. 49 Jerome, Epist. 22, 24 (PL 22, 410) and Virgil, Ecloga III, 65 in Epist. V, ed. Muckle, 'Personal Letters', p. 87. 50 Jerome, De exodo, (PL 40, 1203) cites Terence, Andria I, 1, 41 ('Obsequium amicos, veritas odium park') and Galatians 4, 16 ('Inimicos vobis factus sum, uerum dicens') in Comm.Rom. IV (XVI, 18), p. 334. 51 VI, 223 in TSch III. 33 at 1. 465 (not, as in the apparatus, 11. 460-1); Tchr CT V, 35d.

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ence to Psalm 55,12 : "look to no one outside yourself".52 Statius is mentioned, along with Paul, Dyonisius the Areopagite, Augustine, Hermes, Macrobius and Lucan, and cited in reference to the unknowability of God and to the altar raised to the unknown God.53 The frequency of quotations from Horace is especially striking. Abelard twice uses Horace's "lightning strikes the highest heights", once in reporting the warning that Geoffrey of Leves, bishop of Chartres, gave to Abelard's accusers at the council of Soissons, that they were striking at a more eminent figure than they realised, and again before his second trial for heresy, in a defiant letter defending his Theologia against all the abuse heaped upon it by Bernard of Clairvaux and others.54 He uses Horace's epistles repeatedly to show that lessons learned while young last a long time—which can be, as he writes in Epistola IX, good or, as he writes in the Dialogus, bad55—and that one should not rely on the words of a master56 nor trust a bigger faction over a better one;37 to condemn greed and pride58 and commend moderation over self-indulgence;59 to counsel against being too quick to teach and write;60 to make the point that the Law was given to achieve a good life, not the perfect one, and to argue that, even after the saints have provided so many treatises on the faith, there

32

'Ne te quaesiveris extra', Satire I, 7 in Epist. V, ed. Muclde, 'Letter of Heloise', p. 251. 03 'Urbi fuit media nulli concessa potentum/ara deum', Tkebaid, XII, 481-2 in Tchr III, 45. 54 'feriuntque summos fulgura monies', Carmina 11,10, 11-12, cited in Historia calamitatum, ed. cit., 11. 803-4 from Jerome, Epist. 60, 16 (CSEL 55, 329,5); Epist. 108,18 (CSEL 54, 570,1); Quaest. hebr. in gen., praef. (PL 28, 983B); cf. Carmen, 1. 327. And in Epistola contra Bernardum, ed. R. Klibansky, 'Peter Abailard and Bernard of Clairvaux. A Letter by Abailard', in Mediaeval and Renaissance Studies 5 (1961), 1-27, at p. 7. Here fulgura is more righdy written than fulmina. 55 I, 2, 69-70 in Epistola IX, ed. E. Smits, Peter Abelard. Letters IX-XIV (Groningen 1983), p. 223, 11. 1 1 1 1 2 and in Dialogus, ed. Thomas, 1. 113. Marenbon and Orlandi in their forthcoming edition of the Dialogus give the reading: 'Quo semel est imbuta, recens seruabit odorem testa diu' in preference to Thomas (and others): 'Quo semel inbuta est recens, servabit odorem testa diu'. Jerome alludes to these lines also in Epistola 107, 4 (CSEL 55, p. 295, 11. 10-13). 56 'non iurare in verba magistri', Epist. I, 1,14 in Carmen, 1. 9. Cf Rule, p. 266, 11. 25 ff. 57 Epist. I, 1,48 in Carmen 11. 253-4. 58 Epist. I, 3,18ff. in Carmen, 11. 505-10. 59 I, 4, 15f. in Carmen, 11. 43-8. 60 I, 17,3ff. in Carmen, 11. 27-30.

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will still be doubts to overcome;61 to say that epicurean habits followed by monks are wrong62 and that virtue is the mean between opposing vices.63 Heloise also quotes Horace on envy: after mentioning the labourers in the vineyard (Matthew 20:15) who complained when others who worked fewer hours received the same wage, she cites him: 'the envious man grows lean when his neighbour grows fat; tyrants in Sicily invented no torture worse than envy'.64 The collected correspondence of Abelard and Heloise would lose much of its value if it did not have poetic colouring. Peter Dronke and Helen Laurie have both written vividly of the familiarity Heloise shows for Ovid's Heroides., for the letters and dramatic monologues Ovid wrote for absent husbands. Heloise, in her first two letters to Abelard, expresses 'a heroine's affective states' and was 'fully familiar with . . . the Ovidian tradition'65—perhaps more so than Abelard. Abelard, nonetheless, could sparkle with Ovid as when he writes of the success of his teaching in Melun and of 'the jealousy which chases the highest, the winds that swirl round summits'.66 Abelard and Heloise are famously skilful in their selections of people and passages for the purpose of passing judgement or lighting a scene and Lucan's verse was a rich source for their purposes. Peter von Moos has shown that its use by Abelard served his need to fight 'dead wood': Anselm, the barren fig tree condemned by Christ in the Gospels,67 and Pompey, the venerable oak standing dead in the middle of a field of corn, are brought together: 'There stood the shadow of a noble name'.68 But, silently comparing himself to Caesar, 61

"Est quodam prodire tenus, si non datur ultra", Epist. I, 1, 32 in Comm. Rom. Ill (VII, 13), p. 200, 1. 442 and TSch II, 61. 62 Epist. I, 4, 15-16 in Sermo 32 (PL 178, 607A). Cf. Jerome, Adversus Jovinianum II, 12 (PL 23, 315). 63 Epistolw I, 18, 9 in Diakctica, ed. L. M. de Rijk, Petrus Abaelardus. Dialectica. Wijsgerige Teksten en Studies 1 (Assen 1956; 2nd edition 1970), p. 376, 1. 16. Another example of use of Horace's Epistolae is I, 1, 39 at Carmen, 1. 535. 64 Epistolae, I, 2, 57-9 in Problemata Heloissae 12 (PL 178, 693C). 65 Dronke, Women Writers of the Middle Ages, pp. 107, 108; also pp. 126-7. Cf H. Laurie, The Making of Romance. Three Studies. (Geneva 1991), (Histoire des idees et critique litteraire 290), esp. pp. 95-119. 66 'Summa petit livor, perflant altissima vend', Remedia amoris 369 in Historia calamitatum, 1. 121. 67 Mark 11, 13-14, 20-21; Matthew 21, 19; Luke 13, 6-9. 68 'Stat, magni nominis umbra/Qualis frugifero quercus sublimis in agro', Pharsalia I, 135-6 cited in Historia calamitatum, 11. 178-9.

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Pompey's younger, victorious rival, Abelard adds: 'I did not lie idle in that shadow for long'.69 Abelard's is an aggressive ethic and von Moos calls the object of Abelard's aggression 'quietism', whether found in the domains of knowledge or of behaviour.70 Danger strikes when least expected. 'There will always be heresies', Paul wrote (1 Corinthians 11:19), and Pompey fell when at the height of power; the Fathers built defences round the Church but an enemy always lurks: 'nondum tibi defuit hostis'.71 Lucan brings to a climax Abelard's attacks on complacent theologians. Examples from Roman history also served the purpose of illustrating the need to preserve and serve communities.72 Pompey's Cornelia, as played by Heloise, posed a threat both to Abelard and to herself. As Heloise unwillingly hastened to the altar to receive the veil, she spoke Cornelia's last words before her suicide: O noble husband, Too great for me to wed, was it my fate To bend that lofty head? What prompted me To marry you and bring about your fall? Now claim your due, and see me gladly pay . . , 73

Shaken by Abelard's fear that death will strike him at any moment, Heloise also recited Cornelia's wish: The poet prays to God, saying 'Whatever you prepare for us, make it sudden; let the minds of men be blind to the future'74

69

'non multis diebus in umbra eius ociosus iacui', Historia calamitatum, 11. 180—1. 'Lucan und Abaelard', p. 437. 71 I, 23 in TSch II, 61, 1. 975. Cf. von Moos, 'Lucan und Abaelard', p. 430. 72 In the Rule, p. 251, Abelard cites Pharsalia I, 84-6, 89-93. ('Lucanus in primo sic meminit') to illustrate the need for religious communities, like Rome, to avoid divisions through lack of a single ruler. Cf. also the reference to Cato (already mentioned) forsaking a drink of water while others were thirsty: 'suffecitque omnibus unda', Pharsalia, IX, 510 cited in the Rule, p. 257. In the fourth Sermon (on Epiphany, PL 178, 41 OB), in speaking of the Magi and of the dangers magic presents to the mind, Abelard cites 'Lucanus' (Pharsalia VI, 456-7) from Isidore, Etymologiae, VIII, 9, 9-10. Cf. von Moos, 'Lucan und Abaelard', p. 416, n. 6. 73 'O maxime coniux! O thalamis indigne meis! hoc iuris habebat In tantum fortuna capud? Cur impia nupsi, Si miserum factura fui? Nunc accipe penas Sed quas sponte luam', Pharsalia, VIII, 94-8 cited in Historia calamitatum, 11. 634-8, trans. B. Radice, p. 76; See P. Moos, 'Cornelia und Heloise', Latomus 34 (1975), pp. 1024-59; id., 'Lucan und Abaelard', pp. 438-40. 74 'Sit subitum quodcunque paras; sit caeca futuri/Mens hominum fati: liceat 70

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Abelard's reply was Pompey's reproach: Cornelia still had him.73 Cornelia had lost Pompey's fortune, not Pompey. Heloise should mourn for Christ who died, not for his servant who lives. Abelard thinks once more on this in his Commentary on Romans: whatever hardships we face, so long as we have God, the cause of love, love cannot be diminished.76 Abelard cannot entirely escape the charge of being inconsistent and self-contradictory. The condemned uses to which poetry may be put and which he cited in his Theologia are deployed in his own writings, although he does not dally with impure tales or dwell on pagan deities. Greater riches are to be found in the Bible and in Christian literature, but these do not make poets worthless: as Ovid wrote, and Abelard cites him in relation to the philosophers, 'it is permissible to be taught by the enemy'.77 Lucan and Ovid excepted, and they are exceptions of considerable importance, the poets Abelard valued most were, in his eyes, themselves philosophers.78 Horace is clearly accepted as a philosopher who greatly helps towards doing good things: 'good men', he wrote, 'hate to sin out of love of virtue'.79 Horace taught contemptus mundi and belongs in the company of Socrates,

sperare timenti', Pharsalia, II, 14-15 cited in Epist. IV, ed. Muckle, 'Personal Letters', p. 78. See P. Dronke, Women Writers of the Middle Ages (Cambridge 1984), p. 122. 75 'Vivit post praelia Magnus!/Sed fortuna perit. Quod defies, id amasti' Pharsalia, VIII, 84-5 cited in Epist. V, ed. Muckle, 'Personal Letters', p. 92. See von Moos, 'Cornelia und Heloise'; id., 'Lucan und Abaelard', p. 417, n. 7. 76 Pharsalia VIII, 85 in Comm.Rom. Ill (VII, 13), p. 204, 1. 567. A further allusion to Pharsalia I, 125-6 ('Nee quemquam iam ferre potest Caesarve priorem/ Pompeiusve parem') is found in Carmen 11. 513-14 ('cor miserum liuor, detractio possidet ora/dum non maiorem ferre paremue potest'). 77 'fas est et ab hoste doceri', Ovid, Metamorphoses IV, 428 in TSch II, 33; Tchr CT III, 8c; Rule, p. 266, 1. 33. 78 Abelard often couples poets with philosophers. In the course of writing the Prologue to his Sic et non, and in advising that saints often report views which are not their own, he remarks that this is true also of poets, such as Ovid, and of philosophers, such as Boethius: 'Poeticae quoque seu philosophicae scripturae pleraque ita iuxta opinionem loquuntur, quasi in veritate consistant, quae tamen a veritate penitus discrepare liquet. Unde est illud Ovidianum: Fertilior seges est alienis semper in agris Vicinumque pecus grandius uber habet. Boethius quoque in tertio Topicorum accidens et substantiam duo prima rerum genera cum dixerit, ad opinionem potius quam ad veritatem aspexit', SN, Prologue, p. 95; Ovid, Ars amatoria, I, 349-50; Boethius, De differentiis topicis III (PL 64, 1197C). 79 'philosophi ad bona nos maxime cohortantur opera . . . quorum quidem unus, cum honestatis formam traderet, egregie ait: Oderunt peccare boni virtutis amore', Horace, Epist. I, 16,52 in Tchr II, 26-7.

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the Psalmist and the apostles.80 Virgil appears as philosophus in the Carmen ad Astralabium teaching the hidden causes of things.81 In the Logica, where Abelard attributes to philosophers the ability to judge and understand these causes by subtle intelligence, he names and cites Virgil.82 Dionysius Cato is a sage who advocated the purification of the mind in preparation for fitting worship of God. The writings of poets—scripta poetarum—proclaim man's duty to live a good life to glorify God.83 Most important is the discussion of the uses and types of fables found in Macrobius's Commentary on the Dream of Scipio. Poetic fable may convey falsehoods and pander to base pleasure, but they may also communicate philosophical truth. Philosophers can sometimes accept fables, although they are untrue, for fables sweeten the experience of listening, and similes and examples offer ways of speaking about God and the soul and spirits. Fables can provide a way of expressing something about God which transcends human thought84 and Virgil, in particular, provided at one and the same time poetic fiction and philosophical truth.85 Abelard accepted this just as he accepted that the philosophers had advanced in the same directions as Jewish and Christian thinkers. Both poets and philosophers presented truths of deep significance that sometimes lay hidden beneath veils 80 'Quorum quidem unus diligenter attendens quid distet inter habere pecuniam et seruire pecuniae, iuxta quod et psalmista ait: Diuitiae si qffluant, nolite cor apponere, inter cetera meminit dicens: "Et mihi res, non me rebus supponere conor'", Epist. 1,1, 19 in Tchr II, 69. 81 Georgicon. II, 490 in Carmen, 1. 95: 'Philosophus causas rerum dicernit opaces'. 82 '. . . illud Vergilii existimat: Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas', Logica 'Nostrorum petitioni sociomm', ed. B. Geyer, Peter Abaelards Philosophische Schrijten, II. Die Logica 'Nostrorum Petitioni Sociorum'. (Miinster, Westfalen, 2nd ed. 1973) (Beitrage zur Geschichte der Philosophic und Theologie des Mittelalters 21, 4), p. 506, 1. 17. 83 'Vnde et per sapientem quendam adhortantem non digne deum excolere, nisi mente scilicet a uiciis purgata et uirtutibus adornata, pulchre in ipso sue adhortationis et discipline exordio dictum est: Si deus est animus nobis, ut carmina dicunt, Hie tibi precipue sit pura mente colendus. Ac si aperte filium instruens dicat: cum deus sit nobis animus, hoc est uera et spiritalis uita, sicut et ipsa perhibent scripta poetarum—uelut ilia Virgilii uerba que super hoc ipsum Macrobius inducit, sicut postmodum ostendemus—hunc precipue, scilicet deum, bene uiuendo glorifica', TSch I, 153; Tchr I. 94. When citing verses from the De consolatione philosophiae he calls Boethius 'philosophus' (TSch I, 134-5, II, 73, III, 67; Tchr, I, 78 9, III, 105; TSum II, 58). 84 In somnium Scipionis, I, ii, 7-21; TSch I, 163-4; Tchr I, 103-4. 81 'et poeticae figmentum et philosophiae veritatem', In somnium Scipionis, I, ix, 8.

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of obscurity. They were not necessarily themselves aware of these hidden meanings any more than the Old Testament prophets had always understood the full meaning of what they foretold, since it was the Holy Spirit who spoke through them.86 Abelard also accepted that some poets are prophets. The sixth book of Virgil's Aeneid, the Sybils and the fourth Eclogue had often been interpreted as a testimony to Christian truth, and Abelard enthusiastically followed tradition.87 In the eighth Eclogue Abelard saw evidence of the divine Trinity.88 His reasoning here, as Peter Dronke has written, became labyrinthine89 but his conclusion is plain. Anchises's teaching indicated a world soul who is the Holy Spirit who vivifies creation: First you must know that the heavens, the earth, the watery plains Of the sea, the moon's bright globe, the sun and the stars are all Sustained by a spirit within; for immanent mind, flowing Through its parts and leavening its mass, makes the universe work.90

Abelard used Virgil in the service of Christian Platonism most fully in his Theologia 'Scholarium'91 He was guided by Macrobius who, Abelard thought, had discerned in Virgil's presentation of the world soul almost everything that Christians believed about the Holy Spirit. For the neoplatonist Macrobius the world soul was the Creator; the world soul is said to be created or born but this way of speaking 86 The concepts of involucrum and integumentum have been well studied in respect of the early twelfth century. See especially, E. Jeauneau, Lectio philosophorum (Amsterdam 1973), pp. 127-93; P. Dronke, Fabula (Leiden and Cologne 1974), pp. 23-8, 48-52, 56-7, 61-4, 119-22; idem, 'Integumenta Virgilii' in Intellectuals and Poets in Medieval Europe (Rome 1992) (Storia e Letteratura 183), pp. 63-78. 87 In TSb I, 60-1 Abelard cites in support Quodvultdeus, Sermo 10, Adversus quinque haereses, 3 (PL 42, 1103), Augustine, De civitate dei 18, 23 (PL 41, 579-81) and Lactantius, Divinae institutions, IV, 18 (PL 6, 505-7). In Tchr I, 126-8, and in TSch I, 189-91 Abelard, like Augustine, adds citations from Virgil's fourth Eclogue. Cf. Abelard, Epist. VII, ed. Muckle, 'Letter of Heloise' pp. 271-2. On the close similarities of expression found in these passages see Engels, 'Abelard ecrivain', pp. 117-18. On the ten Sybils and virginity Abelard cites Jerome, Adversus Jovinianum, I, 41 (PL 23, 283) in Epist. VII, ed. Muckle, 'Letter of Heloise', p. 276. 88 VIII, 73-5 in TSch I, 193. 89 Intellectuals and Poets, p. 71. 90 '. . . Spiritus intus alit totamque infusa per artus./Mens agitat molem et magno se corpore miscet', Aeneid VI, 724-31 in TSch I, 176-8; Tchr CT I, 87a, I, 115. 91 TSch I, 171-80, 189-93; Tchr I, 110-17, 126-9; Tchr CT I, 87-a. Cf. Dronke, Intellectuals and Poets, pp. 69-73.

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equates to procession from God the Father and from Nous who is God the Son. St Paul's teaching that God is above all things and in all things is the same as that of the Stoics as expressed by Virgil.92 He believes that Virgil probably knew a Sybilline prophecy because, in his fourth Eclogue, Virgil appears to predict the marvellous birth of an infant who will descend from heaven to earth, will take away the sins of the world and inaugurate a new age.93 Virgil, Abelard writes, perhaps did not know what the Sybil—or the Holy Spirit— proclaimed. But, with the aid of hindsight, Virgil's words, which are wrong if they are taken literally, can be seen to refer to the birth of the Son of God.94 The Sibyls, moreover, were women. In his third Letter to Heloise Abelard relates the role of these women to that of other women such as Mary Magdalen, 'the apostle of the apostles', and Elisabeth and Anna, 'the prophets of the prophets'. Pagan though the Sybils were, they too were prophets who had received revelation about Christ, and grace which surpasses all the grace that men have received.95 In his feminism also Abelard wove together threads found in pagan poetry with those found in Christian teaching.

92

Ephesians 4,6; Georgics IV, 221^22: 'Deum namque ire per omnes Terrasque tractusque maris', TSch I, 178; Tchr CT I, 87-a. 93 "lam redit et uirgo, redeunt saturnia regna. lam noua progenies celo dimittitur alto", Ecloga IV, 5-6 in TSch I, 191; Tchr I, 128; Epist. VII, ed. Muckle, 'Letter of Heloise', p. 272. However, in SN XXV he quotes a passage in which Jerome (Epistola ad Paulinum 53, 7, PL 22, 544-5) expressed his opposition to the view that the poets propounded belief in the Trinity and the Incarnation ('incongrua testimonia'). 94 'Hoc profecto Sibille uaticinium, ni fallor, maximus ille poetarum nostrorum Virgilius audierat atque attenderat, cum in quarta Egloga futurum in proximo sub Augusto Cesare, tempore consultans Pollionis, mirabilem cuiusdam pueri de celo ad terras mittendi, qui etiam peccata mundi tolleret et quasi seculum nouum in mundo mirabiliter ordinaret, precineret ortum—admonitus, ut ipsemet ait, Cumei carminis uaticinio, hoc est Sibille que Cumea siue Cumana dicitur. . . Que apertissimam de incarnatione filii dei continent prophetiam, ipso fortassis poeta ignorante quid in Sibilla uel in eo spiritus sanctus loqueretur . . . Facillime autem ex subsequentibus conuinci potest hanc Eglogam de nullo ueraciter aut conuenienter accipi posse, nisi de incarnato unigenito dei typice, more prophetico dicantur, cum apertissime falsa et omnino impossibilia deprehendantur esse, si ad litteram exponantur . . .', TSch I, 191-2 with citations from Eclogue IV, Iff., 11-14, 17; cf. Tchr 1,128-9. 95 Epist. VII, ed. Muckle, 'Letter of Heloise', pp. 27 If.

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GOD AND THE GODDESSES: VISION, POETRY, AND BELIEF IN THE MIDDLE AGES Barbara Newman

Medieval Catholicism presents the extraordinary spectacle of a religion, ostensibly monotheistic, that proclaimed one God in three persons and surrounded that God with three pantheons. First came the saints, a polymorphous group, with the Mother of God at their pinnacle. Their cultural presence was ubiquitous, their shrines beyond counting. Second were the old pagan gods, 'disinfected of belief but still immensely useful for literary and astrological purposes.1 Poets and intellectuals could not imagine the world without them. Their names survived as planets and days of the week; fragments of their cult lived on in Christian festivals, while every schoolboy learned their myths. Textually, however, these two pantheons never mixed: saints belonged to the realm of belief, pagan gods to that of makebelieve. Mythography had no use for St. Catherine, nor did hagiography require Apollo, unless a virgin was denouncing him on the way to her martyrdom. But the third pantheon, the allegorical goddesses, mingled freely with both of the others. The God of medieval Christendom had one Son but many daughters: Sapientia, Philosophia, Ecclesia, Frau Minne, Dame Nature, Lady Reason, and the list goes on. These goddesses have been something of an embarrassment to medievalists. Literary scholars treat them as personifications or ideological constructs; art historians sometimes glance at their iconography; historical theologians study them not at all. Peter Dronke, almost alone among scholars, conveys a sense of the spacious domain that goddesses occupy in medieval thought, poetry, and religion. They freely cross the boundaries of language and genre, as well as that more delicate boundary where high seriousness meets serious play and imagination shades into belief. Goddesses abound not only in the creations

1

C. S. Lewis, The Allegory of Love. A Study in Medieval Tradition (London 1936), 83.

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of poets, but also in the theological writings of clerics and the revelations of holy women. Alan of Lille was a distinguished schoolman, the author of a noted manual on preaching, who ended his life as a Cistercian monk (d. 1202/3). But when he wished to write an epic poem on creation, he turned his back on Genesis and parcelled out the task to a gynaeceum of goddesses.2 Robert Grosseteste (d. 1253), a saintly bishop eulogized by Roger Bacon as the most learned philosopher of his age, produced an array of Latin works on subjects from optics to sacraments. But he also wrote a poem in his Anglo-Norman vernacular, Le Chateau d'Amour, which has been described as a theological treatise in the form of a chivalric romance.3 Ostensibly composed for the education of the laity, Le Chateau lifts the Tour daughters of God' from the Talmud, makes them sisters of Christ without whom God could not govern his kingdom, and embroils them in debate over the redeemability of man. The 'primal creatures', as Dante called them, often bear the names of virtues, as do Grosseteste's Mercy, Truth, Justice, and Peace. But if we follow convention and refer to them as 'personifications' or even 'allegorical figures' (a category that suggests terminal dullness), we run the risk of blunting their emotional force and trivializing their religious import. More important, we may take their presence for granted and forget to ask why goddesses should have proliferated in the high Middle Ages, appearing in such prominent roles in such a variety of contexts. A reader who knew of medieval religion only from Peter Lombard or Thomas Aquinas—or, for that matter, from Alan of Lille's De arte praedicatoria or Grosseteste's De decem mandatis—would never have suspected their existence. Goddesses, like other symbols, could dwindle to the stature of rhetorical tropes, and at times they were used parodically. But in the most imaginative and provocative texts, both Latin and vernacular, they add an irreducible fourth dimension to the spiritual universe. As emanations of the Divine, mediators between God and the cosmos, embodied universals, and not least, ravishing objects of identification and desire, the goddesses substantially transformed and 2

Alain de Lille, Anticlaudianus, ed. R. Bossuat (Paris 1955). Robert Grosseteste, Le Chateau d'Amour, ed. J. Murray (Paris 1918). For a Middle English translation see The Minor Poems of the Vernon Manuscript, ed. C. Horstmann, EETS o.s. 98 (London 1892), pp. 355-406. The description is Murray's, p. 67. 3

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deepened Christendom's concept of God, introducing religious possibilities beyond the ambit of scholastic theology and bringing them to vibrant imaginative life. How they did so will be the subject of this essay. My claim is an unorthodox one that raises a host of questions, not only about the roles of specific goddesses, but also about genre and hermeneutics. For example: how did medieval writers and readers understand the ontological status of their goddesses? Did they 'believe in' them, and if so, in what manner? What philosophical convictions sustained their fascination with allegory? Is it possible to distinguish the personifications that appear in allegorical poems and visual art from those that appear in actual visions? How could medieval writers reconcile their statements about the daughters of God with orthodox devotion to the Son of God? For that matter, why did they have such an overwhelming preference for female personifications—for goddesses—in the first place? Two widely differing case studies will serve to introduce the scope and pervasiveness of the goddess phenomenon. Henry Suso, a German Dominican mystic, and Christine de Pizan, a French court poet and political writer, have seldom been compared; but both are germane to our purposes and, as it happens, both theorized usefully about their own allegorical practice. Suso completed his autohagiography, The Life of the Servant., in the 1360s, with the help of his protegee, the nun Elsbeth Stagel.4 The Life begins by recounting Suso's infatuation with Eternal Wisdom, an event he must have considered central to his development because he had told the story twice before—first in his Buchlein der Ewigen Weisheit and then in a Latin redaction of that book, the Horologium Sapientiae. It is interesting that as Suso told and retold his love for Eternal Wisdom, he placed increasing emphasis on her feminine persona. With this emphasis came an intensified bridal mysticism, featuring the Servant as male lover and divine Wisdom as female beloved. Because Suso was self-consciously fashioning his life as an exemplar for imitation by his spiritual daughters, he may have felt the model of Brautmystik to be especially appropriate, or perhaps it was Stagel who played up this aspect of the narrative. Nuptial 4 F. Tobin, 'Henry Suso and Elsbeth Stagel: Was the Vita a Cooperative Effort?' in Gendered Voices. Medieval Saints and Their Interpreters, ed. C. Mooney (Philadelphia 1999), pp. 118-35.

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mysticism had long been recommended as an appropriate form of devotion for nuns. Before Suso, however, it was highly unusual for a man to play the male role in a scenario of celestial love. If homoeroticism was to be avoided, as it generally was, either he had to take on the woman's role as anima or else God had to be recast as a goddess, which is what happens here. As Suso presents his conversion, his soul was seduced for Christ by a text. Though he had worn the habit for several years as a lukewarm religious, he naturally 'had a heart filled with love' that needed only to be set aflame. Fortunately a Galeotto was at hand. As the young man heard the biblical wisdom books read in the refectory, the divine Sophia seduced and allured him from their pages. His 'love-crazed spirit' began to pine for this exalted lady, for Solomon promised that Wisdom's love would make him noble, courtly, and esteemed. Although the youth feared that the pursuit of his high beloved might entail hardship, he recalled that according to Minne's law, 'no one can be a suitor unless he is a sufferer, nor can anyone be a lover unless he is a martyr.'5 Eternal Wisdom alone could offer him the pure sweetness of love with no bitterness in the end. As his infatuation deepened, he indulged in the time-honored reveries of a lover: And he said to himself without hesitation, 'Certainly it has to be the right thing. She must be my beloved, and I shall be her servant. O God, if I might just catch a glimpse of my dear one! If I could just once talk with her! What must my beloved look like if she has so many delightful things hidden within her! Is she divine or human, man or woman, art or knowledge or what?' And to the extent he was able to imagine her through the explanatory examples (usgeleiten bischafteri) of scripture with his inner eyes, she presented herself to him thus: She was suspended high above him on a throne of clouds. She shone as the morning star and dazzled as the glittering sun. Her crown was eternity, her attire blessedness, her words sweetness, and her embrace the surcease of all desire. She was distant yet near, far above yet low, present yet hidden. . . . She spread herself out [from end to end mightily] and ordered all things sweetly (Wisd. 8.1).6

5 'Der minne von altem recht horet zu liden. Nu ist doch enkein werber, er sie ein lider, noch kein minner, er si ein martrer.' Senses Leben 1.3, in Deutsche Schriften, ed. K. Bihlmeyer (Stuttgart 1907; repr. Frankfurt 1961), p. 13. The translation is from F. Tobin, Henry Suso. The Exemplar (New York 1989), p. 68. 6 'Und sprach frilich in im selb: "gewerlich, ez muos recht sin, si muos reht min liep sin, ich wil ir diener sin." Und gedahte: "ach got, wan mohti ich die lieben

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Suso's act of imagination is not a vision, in the sense of an extraordinary spiritual experience. Rather, it is what he described as a 'meditation in the light of Holy Scripture', or in the terms of courtly romance, the charming phase of love known as Sweet Thought. But Suso, unlike the typical romance lover, is not quite sure of his Beloved's gender:7 'The minute he thought her to be a beautiful young lady, he immediately found a proud young man before him. Sometimes she acted like a wise teacher (meisteriri), sometimes like a pert young thing (minneriri).^ This gender bending is a none-too-subtle hint of what the reader should already know: Eternal Wisdom, the 'empress of [her Servant's] heart', is in fact Jesus and will shortly manifest herself on the cross. In the very next chapter the Servant, overcome with love, will take a stylus and inscribe the monogram of Jesus on his chest with his heart's blood. But this dual gendering of Christ is not original with Suso: ever since St. John transmuted the Old Testament figure of Sophia into the Logos and made her the divine subject of the Incarnation, she had always been Christ's alter ego.9 In Suso and his followers, she appears unmistakably as Christ the goddess; and by the fifteenth century, she will have her own paraliturgical cult.

nuwan einest gesehen, wan mohti ich nuwan einest zuo ir red komen! Ach wie ist das Hep gestalt, daz so vil lustlicher dingen in im hat verborgen? Weder ist es got aid mensch, frow oder man, kunst aid list, oder waz mag ez sin?" Und als verr er si in den usgeleiten bischaften der schrift mit den inren ogen gesehen mohte, do zogte si sich ime also: si swepte hoh ob ime in einem gewulkten throne, si luhte als der morgensterne und schein als du spilndu sunne; iru krone waz ewikeit, ire wat waz selikeit, iru wort siizzekeit, ire umbfang alles lustes gnuhsamkeit. Si waz verr und nahe, hoh und nider, si waz gegenwurtig und doch verborgen . . . si zerspreite sich von ende ze ende gewalteklich und richte ellu ding us siisseklich.' Leben 1.3, ed. Bihlmeyer, p. 14; trans. Tobin, pp. 68-69. 7 There are some parallels for this lability of gender in romance. In the Roman de la Rose the beloved never appears as 'herself but is often present to her lover in the guise of a young man, Fair Welcome. The romance heroine Silence and others are also disguised as men. But a man disguised as a woman would belong in a fabliau, not a romance: crossing the gender line in the 'wrong' direction would be considered dishonorable or comic. 8 'So er iez wande haben ein schon jungfrowen, geswind vand er einen stolzen jungherren. Si gebaret etwen als ein wisii meisterin, etwen hielt si sich als ein vil weidenlichu minnerin.' Leben 1.3, ed. Bihlmeyer, p. 14; trans. Tobin, p. 69. 9 For Christ as Sophia in the New Testament see J. Dunn, Christology in the Making (Philadelphia 1980), pp. 163-212, and W. Gray, 'Wisdom Christology in the New Testament: Its Scope and Relevance', Theology 89 (1986) 448-59. On sapiential language and figures in medieval poetry see P. Dronke, Medieval Latin and the Rise of European Love-Lyric I (Oxford 1965), ch. 2.

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Christine de Pizan's Book of the City of Ladies (1405), a centerpiece of the medieval French canon, may seem a far cry from Suso's Life or any other religious text. Christine tends to be read as a purely secular author, a 'professional woman of letters', standing out from the crowd of female mystics who were driven by divine command to take up their quills. She took up hers to support herself and her children, pushed into the Field of Letters by what she called the 'transmutation of Fortune'—an early widowhood rather than a call from heaven. It is also true that Christine did most of her prolific writing at court, retiring to a convent only late in life under the stress of war.10 Her religion, like that of her contemporary Chaucer, bore a philosophical rather than a mystical stamp. Yet philosophical piety is piety all the same, and Christine's works are suffused with Boethian Christianity—a high-minded resignation to providence, coupled with a reliance on God as guarantor of the moral and social order. To the distress of some feminist critics, the last third of the City of Ladies is devoted entirely to the stories of saints and martyrs. So perhaps it is time to reassess the religious basis of that work. When three crowned goddesses visit Christine in her study, authorizing her bold challenge to misogynist auctores, they do so by making a theological statement possible only to a writer who took the allegorical goddess tradition with full seriousness.11 The scene of writing sketched in Christine's opening pages is among the most frequently analyzed set pieces in feminist criticism, no doubt because modern readers identify so easily with the persona she creates. Dispirited by her perusal of a third-rate misogynist satire, Christine reflects on the ubiquity of antifeminist ideologies, not just in trivial writers like Matheolus but in the weightiest philosophers and poets, until she herself starts to believe them and sinks into a profound depression. But she also sinks into prayer, lamenting to God that she was born a woman and begging him to forgive her weakness. This despondent prayer is answered by what can only be called an epiphany. Sitting in darkness and the shadow of death, she suddenly perceives a ray of light falling into her lap: 10 The standard biography is C. Willard, Christine de Pizan. Her Life and Works (New York 1984). Useful essays can be found in Reinterpreting Christine de Pizan, ed. E. Richards et al. (Athens, GA 1992), and The City of Scholars. New Approaches to Christine de Pizan, ed. M. Zimmermann and D. De Rentiis (Berlin-New York 1994). 11 Maureen Quilligan observes that 'what Christine does is simply to take very seriously the metaphorically feminine gender of allegorical figures of authority—

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And as I lifted my head to see where this light was coming from, I saw three crowned ladies standing before me, and the splendor of their bright faces shone on me and throughout the entire room. Now no one would ask whether I was surprised, for my doors were shut and they had still entered. Fearing that some phantom had come to tempt me and filled with great fright, I made the Sign of the Cross on my forehead.12 The iconography is clearly modelled on the Annunciation.13 Only supernatural visitors can enter through closed doors; so Christine, like Mary, is properly frightened. The first divine Lady, like Gabriel, tells her not to fear, for she has found favor with the heavenly ones— and there follows the annunciation of an everlasting realm, the City of Ladies, to be born of her consent to their message. In case anyone has missed the parallel, Christine ends the scene with an even more direct evocation of the Virgin. Fertilized by the 'rain and dew' of the ladies' words, she now feels ready to 'bear fruits of profitable virtue and sweet savor', knowing that 'nothing is impossible for God.' And so she assents: 'Thus, with all my strength, I praise God and you, my ladies, who have so honored me by assigning me such a noble commission, which I most happily accept. Behold your handmaiden ready to serve. Command and I will obey, and may it be unto me according to your words' (Luke 1.38).14 Having accepted decreed by the grammar of romance languages to be feminine—thereby literalizing them through a verbal play generic to allegory and transforming them from female figures of authority into female spokespersons for a vast range of pro-woman (anti-misogynist) positions.' The Allegory of Female Authority. Christine de Pizan's Cite des Dames (Ithaca, NY 1991), p. 26. I would add that what Christine takes seriously is not only their gender, but also the divine source of their authority. 12 'Adoncques si comme se je fusse resveillee de somrne et drecant la teste pour regarder dont tel lueur venoit, vi devant moy, tout en estant, iij dames couronnees de tres souveraine reverence, desquelles la resplandeur de leurs cleres faces enluminoit moy mesmes et toute la place. Lors se je fus esmerveillee, nul nel demand, considerant sur moy I'uys clos et elles la venues. Doubtant que ce feust aucune fantasie pour me tempter, fis en mon front le signe de la croix, remplie de tres grant paour.' Christine de Pizan, Le Livre de la Cite des Dames 1.2.1, ed. E. Richards in La Citta delle Dame (Milan 1998), p. 46; trans. E. Richards, The Book of the City of Ladies (New York 1982), p. 6. 13 V. Kolve, 'The Annunciation to Christine: Authorial Empowerment in The Book of the City of Ladies', in Iconography at the Crossroads, ed. B. Cassidy (Princeton 1993), pp. 171-96. 14 'Si loe Dieu de toute ma puissance et vous, mes dames, qui tant honorees m'avez qu'establie suis a si noble commission, laquelle recoy par tres grant leece. Et voycy vostre chamberiere preste d'obeir: or commandez, je obeiray, et soit fait de moy selon voz paroles.' Cite des Dames 1.7.1, ed. Richards, p. 64; trans. Richards, pp. 15^16.

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the Virgin's role as handmaid, Christine is free to build the city that, in the end, the Virgin will enter as queen. With any luck, her project will put down the mighty from their thrones and exalt those of low degree.15 Christine's three visitors are not angels, however, but deesses de gloire—'goddesses of glory.' Not content to be mere personified virtues, they present themselves as daughters of God and, collectively, a feminine Trinity. Lady Reason speaks first: 'Dear daughter, know that God's providence, which leaves nothing void or empty, has ordained that we, though celestial beings, remain and circulate among the people of the world here below, in order to bring order and maintain in balance those institutions we created according to the will of God in the fulfillment of various offices, that God whose daughters we three all are and from whom we were born."6 Lady Right continues, identifying herself (like the biblical Wisdom) as 'the radiance and splendor of God and messenger of his goodness' (Wisd. 7.25-26). But Lady Justice is the most explicit about their theological status: 'My friend Christine, I am Justice, the most singular daughter of God, and my nature proceeds purely from his person. . . . I am in God and God is in me (John 14.11), and we are as one and the same. Who follows me cannot fail, and my way is sure. . . . And of the three noble ladies whom you see here, we are as one and the same, we could not exist without one another; and what the first disposes, the second orders and initiates, and then I, the third, finish and terminate it.'17

15

Alcuin Blamires notes that in light of earlier medieval profeminine works, Christine's monument 'should have been epoch-making', yet had little impact at the time. 'It is a major irony of literary history that the text has taken agonizingly long to regain a place in "the field of letters.'" The Case for Women in Medieval Culture (Oxford 1997), PP. 219, 229-30. 16 'Chiere fille, saches que la providence de Dieu qui riens ne laisse vague ne vuit, nous a establies, quoyque nous soyons choses celestielles, estre et frequenter entre les gens de ce bas monde affin de mettre en ordre et tenir en equite les establissemens fais par nous mesmes selon le vouloir de Dieu en divers offices, auquel Dieu toutes iij sommes filles et de lui nees.' Cite des Dames 1.3.2, ed. Richards, p. 52; trans. Richards, p. 9. 17 'Cristine amie, je suis Justice la tres singuliere fille de Dieu, et mon essence precede de sa personne purement. . . . Je suis en Dieu et Dieu est en moy et sommes comme une mesme chose. Qui me suit ne peut faillir et ma uoye est seure. . . . et entre nous iij dames que tu uois cy sommes comme une mesmes chose ne ne pourrions 1'une sans 1'autre. Et ce que la premiere dispose, la ije ordene et met a oeuvre et puis moy la iije parcheve la chose et la termine.' Cite des Dames 1.6, ed. Richards, pp. 60-62; trans. Richards, pp. 13-14.

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A moralist like Christine could have named far more than three virtues, all with equal claim to be called 'celestial beings' and 'daughters of God.' But the ones she does name are triple and coinherent (comme une mesmes chose), and their relationship parallels what theologians wrote of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit: divine Reason wills and plans, Right executes, and Justice concludes. By Christine's day there was nothing especially novel or unorthodox about such a scheme. Robert Grosseteste, as we have seen, had made the four daughters of God instrumental to the redemption of mankind. Christine is telling a parallel story: nothing less than the redemption of womankind, typified by a City of Ladies self-consciously modelled on Augustine's City of God. So ambitious a project requires the inspiration of God's daughters, not just as ornament, but as serious theological claim. In presenting them as her high commissioners and collaborators, Christine asserts that her book derives not merely from her own reasoning, her own sense of what is right, her own cry for justice, but from the will of a God who can, when occasion demands, be manifest in the form of a feminine Trinity.18 If the City of Ladies is meant to be a female City of God, 'incomparably beautiful and everlasting in the world', it is at the same time a city of goddesses. I have said that the three pantheons of medieval Christendom never mingled in the same text, but The City of Ladies is a rare exception. By a humanist sleight of hand, Christine manages to insert both pagan and Christian goddesses in her city, along with the female saints in the third book. Her euhemerism, learned from Boccaccio, explains the ancient deities as heroes and heroines of prehistory, allowing her to laud Minerva, Ceres, and Isis as outstanding women who were once mistakenly worshipped as goddesses for their contributions to culture.19 The three celestial ladies, on the other hand, are 'real' goddesses, which is to say, they are rooted as 18 Christine's idea of a female Trinity may have been inspired at some distance by Dante, who ascribed his own salvation to three blessed ladies: Mary, Beatrice, and Lucia. See Inferno II, Paradiso XXXII, and J. Ferrante, Woman as Image in Medieval Literature from the Twelfth Century to Dante (New York 1975), pp. 140-41. 19 Minerva, Ceres, and Isis appear in Cite des Dames 1.34-38. Euhemerism, an ancient theory proposed to rationalize the corpus of mythology, was popular in the Middle Ages. Christine states in the prologue to her Epistre d'Othea (1399) that 'because the ancients had the custom of adoring everything that seemed blessed beyond the common level of things, they called several wise women who existed in their time goddesses.' Trans, in The Selected Writings of Christine de Pizan, ed. R. Blumenfeld-Kosinski (New York 1997), p. 32.

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deeply in Christine's genuine theological beliefs as they are in the conventions of allegorical narrative. Bearing these convictions in mind, what would an appropriately serious reading of her allegory entail? Minimally, I believe, she wanted readers to acknowledge the teaching of the three ladies as inspired and to recognize her as their handmaid, with a divinely appointed task to fulfill. It was not her authorship as such, but her mission of deconstructing and reconstructing the history of women, that she needed to authorize with this convention of visionary literature. Maximally, the authority of God's daughters, who 'proceed purely from his person', would set a divine warrant on her daring analogy between the City of Ladies and the City of God. Though restricted to one gender, her city is otherwise remarkably inclusive, open alike to biblical women, amazons, Christian martyrs, transvestites, pagan goddesses, contemporary queens, and classical heroines, including a few notorious criminals, all under the queenship of Mary.20 This universality makes a theological as well as a historical point: the female no less than the male could stand as a synecdoche for the human, pars pro toto. But the human is the image of the divine, so in order to represent genuine universality, Christine's eternal city had to be buttressed by a female representation of its author and founder, God. This is not to deny that Christine's work of polemical historiography aimed at a goal more secular than that of Henry Suso. Nevertheless, the comparison confronts us with two questions that must be faced head-on before we can take the goddesses seriously as elements of medieval religious culture. One is the question of genre: is there a line of demarcation between 'authentic' and 'fictional' visions, and if so, how porous is that boundary? The second, closely related question has to do with the degree of reality ascribed to the goddesses: how far are they to be understood as divine revelations, comparable to visions of Christ or the Virgin, and how far should they be seen as self-consciously fictional constructions? Scholars have always maintained a rough-and-ready distinction between the genres of 'authentic' visionary literature (such as revelations, spiritual diaries, and otherworld journeys) and 'fictional' visions (such as allegories of love, dream poems, and tutelary dialogues). 20 Among the criminals are Semiramis, Medea, and Circe, whom Christine attempts to rehabilitate. Her principal source for women's history, Boccaccio's De mulieribus dans, did not include biblical women, saints, or contemporary figures.

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Many, perhaps most, texts fall clearly on one side of the line. No one is likely to mistake the dream-vision prologue of Chaucer's Legend of Good Women for a record of the poet's inner experience, nor would anyone but an unremitting positivist take Julian of Norwich's Revelation of Love for a fiction. Yet the boundary question has seldom been explored in depth, and 'in-between' cases are surprisingly numerous. Suso is classified as a mystic, so until recently, scholars have been much more interested in his religious experience than in his literary art. Yet he represents his encounter with Eternal Wisdom expressly as an act of imagination. Conversely, Christine de Pizan is always read as a self-conscious literary artist, yet the opening of The City of Ladies not only uses the conventions of visionary literature, but does so with a clear religious purpose. Both Suso and Christine were highly self-conscious about their literary practices. In the prologue to his Biichlein der Ewigen Weisheit, Suso explains that his dialogues with Eternal Wisdom did not occur physically, but 'only through meditation in the light of Holy Scripture.' Some of the sayings he ascribed to Eternal Wisdom were spoken by her own mouth in the Gospel; others derive from 'the loftiest teachers' and have 'either the same words or the same meaning' as may be found in Scripture.21 His text also records visions, but these too 'did not happen in a bodily way; they are merely an illustrative parable'—or as the Latin version says, jigurata locutio.22 The dialogue form is justified as a pedagogical device: the author takes on a variety of roles 'as a teacher should', to explain his simple ideas in yet simpler words for the benefit of simple people.23 Clearly Suso believed that by resorting to allegory, visions, and imaginary dialogues, he 21 The complete passage reads: 'Dar nah gewan er mengen liechten influz gotlicher warheit, dero su im ein ursach waren, unt stuont in im uf ein kosen mit der Ewigen Wisheit; und daz geschah nit mit einem liplichen kosenne noh mit bildricher entwurt, es geschah allein mit betrahtunge in dem lieht der heiligen schrift, der entwurt bi nuti getriegen mag, also daz die entwurt genomen sint eintweder von der Ewigen Wisheit munde, die si selber sprach an dem evangelio, oder aber von dien hohsten lerern; und begrifent eintweder du selben wort oder den selben sin oder aber sogtan warheit, du nah dem sinne der heiligen scrift geriht ist, usser der mund du Ewig Wisheit hat geredet.' Biichlein der Ewigen Weisheit, prologue, in Deutsche Schriften, ed. Bihlmeyer, p. 197. 22 'Visiones . . . in sequentibus contentae non sunt omnes accipiendae secundum litteram, licet multae ad litteram contingerint, sed est figurata locutio.' Heinrich Senses Horologium Sapientiae, ed. P. Kiinzle (Freiburg 1977), p. 366. 23 'Die gesihte, die hie nach stent, die geschahen ovch nut in liplicher wise, su sint allein ein usgeleitu bischaft. . . . Er nimt an sich, als ein lerer tuon sol, aller menschen person. . . . Die sinne, die hie stant, sint einvaltig; so sint du wort noh

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was making his thought more accessible than in his earlier speculative writing, which had led to accusations of heresy—and the lasting popularity of the later works proves he was right. It is plain that neither the validity of Suso's spiritual experience nor the authority of his text depended on the visions being accepted as 'literally true.' Christine's vision in The City of Ladies is no more, but also no less real than Suso's. It is hard to imagine a reader, then or now, naive enough to think that the three goddesses appeared to her in bodily form and dictated her book. But it is easy to imagine Christine, like Suso, describing her dialogue with the ladies as a parable, a figurative way of speaking, or even a 'meditation in the light of Scripture.' We should not assume the alternative to an 'authentic vision', in either his case or hers, to be a 'fictional construct' in the sense that we now understand fiction. Whether the goddesses visibly appeared is irrelevant; the point is that they can and do appear to the mind's eye because they embody true revelations of God. When Christine reflected on her own habits as a writer, she expressed this conviction clearly. In her Book of the Path of Long Study (1402-3), the first homage to Dante in French, Christine has herself escorted around the world by a Beatrician figure, the Cumaean Sibyl. On Mount Parnassus the Sibyl points out two roads to heaven which are accessible only to the wise and learned. The straighter, narrower, and greener of the two is called the road of imagination, which 'reveals the face of God to whoever follows it to the end.'24 But the Sibyl tells Christine to bypass this road because it is too difficult for her, and to follow instead the safer path of long study. This humility topos, more a tribute to the Paradiso than a disavowal of Christine's own powers, only amplifies her conviction that imaginative vision really does reveal the face of God. A recent debate among German medievalists has illumined some of the difficulties involved in maintaining an either/or distinction between what Peter Dinzelbacher calls 'erlebte Visionen' and 'literarische Visionen.' Dinzelbacher, in an attempt to analyze not just visionary texts, but the phenomenology of actual visions underlying

einveltiger, wan su gant uzzer einer einvaltigen sele und gehorent zuo einvaltigen menschen.' Buchlein, ed. Bihlmeyer, pp. 197-98. 24 Christine de Pizan, Le Livre du chemin de long estude, lines 883-922, ed. R. Piischel (2nd ed., Berlin 1887; rpt. Geneva 1974); trans. K. Brownlee in Selected Writings, p. 71.

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such texts, has elaborated a set of criteria intended to distinguish the authentic visionary from the literary artist. His criteria themselves are inevitably literary: for example, a genuine seer is more likely to write prose, to describe ecstatic or waking visions, and to shun allegory, while an author of fictional visions is more inclined to write verse, to use the convention of dream visions, and to employ allegory extensively.25 Once literary impostors have been eliminated from the field, the historian can trust real visionaries to tell the autobiographical truth about their experiences.26 But Dinzelbacher's critics, Siegfried Ringler and Ursula Peters, rightly point out the naivete of such an approach. No scholar, least of all one writing centuries after the fact, can reach 'behind' a vision narrative to the experience on which it is ostensibly based, so we may as well acknowledge the force of literary convention in shaping such texts, particularly the covenant of genre that obligated writers to meet the expectations of readers.27 Ringler and Peters, however, are sometimes led by their oppositional logic to an extreme and unwarranted skepticism about the historicity of all visions. Positing a mutually exclusive relationship between conventionality and authenticity, they overlook the cyclical psychology by which texts not only beget other texts, but give rise to precisely the kinds of experience they represent. We might call this the Madame Bovary phenomenon. Fancying herself a grande amoureuse, Madame Bovary would have been indignant if someone had said her passion was unreal because it was too much like the passions she had read about in novels. On the contrary, the testimony of so 20 P. Dinzelbacher, Vision und Visionsliteratur im Mittelalter (Stuttgart 1981), pp. 65-77; idem, 'Zur Interpretation erlebnismystischer Texte des Mittelalters', ^eitschrift fur deutsches Altertum und deutsche Literatur 117 (1988) 1-23. Dinzelbacher's phenomenological approach builds on that of E. Benz, Die Vision. Erfahrungsformm und Bilderwelt (Stuttgart 1969). 26 For an interesting attempt to apply Dinzelbacher's criteria to selected authors, see K. Kerby-Fulton, Reformist Apocalypticism and Piers Plowman (Cambridge 1990), pp. 117~20. Kerby-Fulton finds that the criteria work well for most medieval visions, but yield ambiguous results when applied to apocalyptic texts or to 'literary religious visions' like those of Dante and Langland. 27 S. Ringler, 'Die Rezeption mittelalterlicher Frauenmystik als wissenschaftliches Problem, dargestellt am Werk der Christine Ebner', in Frauenmystik im Mittelalter, ed. P. Dinzelbacher and D. Bauer (Ostfildern 1985), pp. 178-200; U. Peters, Religiose Erfahrung als literarisches Faktum. %ur Vorgeschichte und Genese frauenmystischer Texte des 13. und 14. Jahrhunderts (Tubingen 1988). For a summary of the debate see F. Tobin, Mechthild von Magdeburg. A Medieval Mystic in Modern Eyes (Columbia, SC 1995), pp. 115-32.

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many novelists authenticated her own feelings, just as hers in turn would have stimulated future petites-bourgeoises and future novels, had she not been so unlucky as to have Flaubert for her chronicler. Even so with medieval visionaries. While most scholars today hold visions to be exceptional events, medieval visions were in some contexts not only encouraged but expected. We now know them to have been embedded in an elaborate nexus of religious practices, including the devotional use of images and the technique of guided visualization, that were by no means exceptional.28 It would hardly be surprising if a nun or beguine, adept at spiritual exercises and gifted with a strong visual imagination, were to find the texts and images of her customary meditations 'coming to life' from time to time in the form of visionary experience.29 Such visions could and often did carry a powerful drive to immortalize the revelation in a text. Conversely, however, the act of literary production might itself be the stimulus, and imaginative vision the response. The construction of allegory and the cultivation of visions could, in fact, serve as parallel modes of religious exploration, similarly free from the rigorous dogmatic and logical constraints of scholasticism. Unlike the disputations of the schools, both these forms of religious expression were open to non-clerics, including women. In their non-Latinate forms, visionary and allegorical writings comprise a good part of what Bernard McGinn has taught us to call vernacular theology.30 Both involved distinctive and not dissimilar techniques, beginning with meditation on prior texts or images. Thus Suso meditated on the biblical wisdom books, Christine on the Annunciation and the Trinity. 28 A fuller list of these practices would include lectio divina with its complements of oratio and meditatio, or 'rumination' on a sacred text; meditation on the visual images in books and churches; frequent reading of visionary literature; fasting; lengthy vigils and interrupted sleep (for the hours of Matins and Lauds); and guided meditations on such themes as Christ's Nativity and Passion and the life of the Virgin. The Rosary, which combines an emotionally-charged set of visualizations with recitation of a mantra, is the best-known and most elaborate of such devotions. 29 J. Hamburger, The Visual and the Visionary. Art and Female Spirituality in Late Medieval Germany (New York 1998); D. Freedberg, The Power of Images. Studies in the History and Theory of Response (Chicago 1989), pp. 283-316; G. Lewis, By Women, For Women, About Women. The Sister-Books of Fourteenth-Century Germany (Toronto 1996), pp. 89-127. 30 B. McGinn, The Flowering of Mysticism. Men and Women in the New Mysticism, 1200-1350 (New York 1998), pp. 19-24. See also N. Watson, 'Visions of Inclusion: Universal Salvation and Vernacular Theology in Pre-Reformation England', Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 27 (1997), 145-87.

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The next stage might be the evocation of a scene or personage, perhaps a snatch of dialogue. With skill and practice, such exercises could lead into a full-fledged, vividly experienced encounter between the visionary/persona and a divine or allegorical figure. Novelists at writing workshops often testify that after a certain point in the creative process, their characters take on lives of their own and begin to say and do things their authors never expected. If such is the case even with a genre as secular as the contemporary novel, would it not have been true a fortiori of medieval allegorical poets? Most of them were, after all, Christian Platonists who believed that their 'characters', as universals, really did possess a prior and independent reality. Owen Barfield pointed out long ago that medieval allegory—not always and everywhere, but more often than not—had its grounding in philosophical realism. Tor us, the characters in an allegory are "personified abstractions," but for [medieval readers] Grammar or Rhetoric, Mercy or "Daunger," were real to begin with, simply because they were "names." And names could be representations, in much the same solid-feeling way as things were.'31 It is small wonder that the allegorical vision as a genre underwent its great resurgence in the twelfth century, at the height of the Platonic revival. Carolynn Van Dyke has recently defined 'pure allegory' as 'Realistic narrative, or narrative whose agents are universals.'32 Paul Piehler observes that medieval allegory tended toward psychological realism as well: its practitioners not only ascribed more reality to universals than we now do, but had a consequently greater ability to enter into direct psychic communication with them.33 The assumptions underlying such Platonic or Realistic allegory are clarified once again by Christine de Pizan. In Christine's Vision (1405), an autobiographical work completed in the same year as The City of Ladies, she pays homage to another of her favorite authors, Boethius, by telling her life story to Lady Philosophy. At the end of a long complaint against Fortune, she attests her veracity with a remarkable assertion: 'And that I speak the truth about these things, God 31

O. Barfield, Saving the Appearances. A Study in Idolatry (London 1957), p. 86. C. Van Dyke, The Fiction of Truth. Structures of Meaning in Narrative and Dramatic Allegory (Ithaca, NY 1985), p. 40. The capital R indicates philosophical as opposed to narrative Realism. See also S. Barney, Allegories of History, Allegories of Love (Hamden, CT 1979), pp. 22-23. 33 P. Piehler, The Visionary Landscape. A Study in Medieval Allegory (London 1971), p. 16. 32

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and you know—God, who is properly you, and you, who are properly God.'34 Can Christine really mean what she says here? Because she has read Boethius, she can and does. Lady Philosophy (lexcellent deesse) goes on to refute Christine's planctus in sound Boethian fashion, proving that all fortune is good fortune and leading into a discourse on true felicity. She concludes with a quotation from the master himself: 'just as those who have justice are just and those who have wisdom are wise, so those who possess divinity are gods and one who has felicity is a god. Thus all the blessed are gods: although by nature there is only one God, by participation there are many.'35 With this passage in the Consolation., Boethius had summarized his argument that, since God alone is the highest good and the true beatitude, all partial goods such as glory, power, and pleasure necessarily coincide when found in their perfection, that is, in God. The ancient writer, keeping his argument distinct from his fabula, had never claimed that Lady Philosophy herself was God. But the logic of his Christian Platonism, with its doctrine of participated deity, allows Christine—and not only Christine—to present Lady Justice, Lady Philosophy, or indeed any other virtue as 'you, who are properly God.' These examples suggest that if 'authentic' visions, no matter how real the experience they record, necessarily become constructed visions when they come down to us as texts, so also 'fictional' visions, whether they originate in a religious meditation like Suso's or a poetic act like Christine's, may convey impassioned and articulate belief by means of allegorical personae. We should not be surprised, then, to find the same goddesses populating texts on both sides of the boundary, as well as those that straddle the fence. Nevertheless, it would be foolish to pretend that all personifications should be granted the same ontological status or the same degree of authorial conviction. One of the most delicate tasks facing the interpreter of visionary and

34 'Et que de ces choses dis voir dieu qui proprement est toy et toy qui proprement es lui le savez.' Lavision-Christine III. 14, ed. M. Towner (Washington 1932), p. 169. Dante refers to Philosophy as God's daughter in Convivio II.xii.9. 30 'Car ainsi comme ceulz qui ont droitture sont droitturiers / Et ceulz qui ont sapience sont sages / ainsi ceulz qui ont divinite sont dieux et cil qui a felicite est dieu Done tous beneurez sont dieux / mais par nature il nest que un dieu / et par participacion il en est moult/' Lavision-Christine 111.26, p. 189. Cf. Boethius, De consolatione philosophiae III, prose 10 (ed. E. Rand, H. Stewart, S. Tester (Cambridge, MA 1973), p. 280): 'Omnis igitur beatus deus, sed natura quidem unus; participatione vero nihil prohibet esse quam plurimos.'

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allegorical texts is to decide how seriously to take the personifications that appear in them—or, in other words, to distinguish between substantive beings and mere rhetorical tropes. Peter Dronke, discussing one of the most important and original twelfth-century allegories, poses the question: 'What kind of reality do the principal allegorical personages in the Cosmographia of Bernard Silvestris have? In particular, the figure whom scholars call "the goddess Natura": how far is she a believable, and believed in, being, rather than a rhetorically personified abstraction?'36 Dronke concludes that even though 'many questions of the degree of reality remain unclear, and may never be decidable with certainty', Natura was indeed a goddess for Bernard, not just because she is vividly personified, but because her activity seems so integral to his view of the world that she can hardly be de-personified or imagined away.37 But that does not mean the same transcendental reality should be ascribed to every personification who appears in the text. We might account for our perception of different ontological planes by distinguishing Platonic personifications from Aristotelian ones, reading the former as epiphanies or emanations of a superior reality, the latter as 'accidents existing in a substance', personified only for the sake of analytical clarity.38 While it is no easier to posit foolproof criteria for these categories than it is to discern the authenticity of visions, we can propose a few guidelines for detecting a Platonic personification, such as the figure's centrality to the conceptual scheme of the text; expressions of awe, love, and reverence on the part of the narrator; the appropriation of biblical and liturgical language, especially from the wisdom literature, to give the figure a numinous aura; the predominantly serious, rather than ironic or parodic, character of the figure's discourse; and perhaps most important, the positing of an intimate relationship between the 36 P. Dronke, 'Bernard Silvestris, Natura, and Personification', Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 43 (1980), 16-31; repr. in Dronke, Intellectuals and Poets in Medieval Europe (Rome 1992), p. 41. 37 Ibid., 56, 45. 38 In Vita Nuova xxv, Dante admits to personifying Amore as if he were 'not only an intellectual substance, but also a bodily substance.' He then apologizes for the poetic licence: 'This is patently false, for Love does not exist in itself as a substance, but is an accident in a substance.' Dante's Vita Nuova, trans. M. Musa (Bloomington, IN 1973), p. 54. Despite this piece of Aristotelian criticism, Dante had decided by the time he wrote the Commedia that Love—I'amor che move il sole e I'altre stelk—is indeed a substance, in fact, none other than God. Cf. Lewis, Allegory of Love, pp. 47-48, and Ferrante, Woman as Image, pp. 136-37.

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figure and God. In the majority of cases, personifications that meet these criteria are described either as goddesses or as brides or daughters of God. One of the phenomena that should be most puzzling and intriguing to the student of allegory has received surprisingly little attention. That fact is the overwhelming predominance of goddesses, of female personifications created to fill the niche of the divine mediator. Thirty years ago, Paul Piehler went so far as to assert that 'the manifestation of goddesses in transcendent landscapes . . . constitutes the central psychic experience in medieval allegory.'39 But while many scholars have commented in passing on this preponderance of goddesses, few have tried to explain it. The oldest and still most frequently cited hypothesis dates back to 1721, when Joseph Addison first noted the phenomenon and ascribed it to a grammatical fact. Abstract nouns in Latin (and most Romance languages) take the feminine gender, so when artists and poets wished to personify virtues, they had to represent them 'in petticoats.'40 While there is clearly a grain of truth in the grammatical theory, it is far from being a full and adequate explanation. As James Paxson observes, the theory 'begs the philological question regarding the relationship between gender and grammar', allowing an unduly deterministic force to the latter.41 I would like to suggest a new interpretation of medieval goddesses by reading them precisely as goddesses: female, but not necessarily women. Thus my starting point is not 'representations of woman' but 'modes of religious imagination.' I begin with the proposition that what H. Richard Niebuhr called 'radical monotheism' has been a rarity in the history of religions. Not only do most religious systems in the world admit a plurality of divine beings, but even within the Western religions of the book, pure monotheistic faith seems to be a difficult position for the religious psyche. Because human trust is more easily placed in goods and persons closer to home than in the transcendent, immutable One, a heaven and earth swept clean of rival deities tend to be quickly repopulated with angels, saints, and

39

Piehler, Visionary Landscape, p. 15. J. Addison, 'Dialogues upon the Usefulness of Ancient Medals', in Miscellaneous Works, ed. A. Guthkelch (London 1914): II, 300. See also M. Bloomfield, 'A Grammatical Approach to Personification Allegory', Modern Philology 60 (1963), 161-71. 41 J. Paxson, The Poetics of Personification (Cambridge 1994), p. 173. 40

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other mediating spirits. As Niebuhr wrote in 1943, 'It is very questionable, despite many protestations to the contrary, . . . that anyone has ever yearned for radical faith in the One God.'42 In the case of medieval Catholicism, no sooner had the pagan gods been vanquished and aestheticized than the new faith began to generate its own pantheons of secondary powers: first the saints and then the goddesses. To Niebuhr's perception about the difficulties of pure monotheism, I would add that male monotheism—evidently the only kind in existence—poses a further problem. Human beings come in two sexes, and once they have admitted the concept of personal deity, they tend to imagine deities in both sexes. To conceive of goddesses—or, within Christianity, to posit feminine 'aspects' or 'emanations' or 'daughters' of God—is not to evince any particular attitude toward women. It is simply to exercise the religious imagination. On the one hand, medieval culture posed a formidable barrier to this exercise through the dogma of the Trinity, which pointedly excludes the feminine. On the other, it supplied a valuable set of resources for it, including the biblical wisdom literature; the traditions of classical myth and mythography; late antique pedagogical texts, especially those of Boethius, Prudentius, and Martianus Capella; the habit of philosophical realism, which made it easy to divinize abstract ideas; and not least, the figure of the Virgin Mary. From the perspective adopted here, what is surprising is not that medieval poets and visionaries should have imagined goddesses, but that their absence has been seen for so long as natural and normative that their presence needed to be explained away or ignored. For the student of comparative religion, goddesses are not exceptional but normal. But for the medievalist, their presence may appear inexplicable because it seems to conflict so radically with the orthodox doctrine of God. Paradoxically, however, goddesses may well have flourished because it was so much safer to theologize about them than about the Trinity. In an age preoccupied with extirpating heresy, texts about goddesses offered writers a safe space to say virtually anything they wished about God under cover of fabula.^ Writing about the Trinity, on the other hand, was risky even for professionals. Several innovative 42

H. R. Niebuhr, Radical Monotheism and Western Culture (New York 1960), p. 31. For this central concept in medieval literary and philosophical theory, see P. Dronke, Fabula. Explorations into the Uses of Myth in Medieval Platonism (Leiden 1974). 43

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philosophical theologians—Peter Abelard, William of Conches, Gilbert of Poitiers—were all tarred with the brush of Trinitarian heresy in the mid-twelfth century, at the very time that Bernard Silvestris, unscathed, was ascribing the creation of the world to goddesses in his Cosmographia. Alan of Lille, who followed in Bernard's footsteps with two more goddess epics, was not only orthodox himself but a vehement foe of heresy; and the same may be said of Hildegard of Bingen, whose writings teem with goddess figures. It is a fascinating and seldom noted truth that the proliferation of goddesses in a medieval text did not render it heretical, nor did the ascription of goddess-like traits to the Virgin. To my knowledge, no medieval Christian was ever prosecuted for heresy on the charge of worshipping the feminine Divine except for the thirteenth-century Guglielmites, who also elected a female pope and claimed that the Holy Spirit had become incarnate in a woman.44 This sect provides a useful but extreme limit case for the medieval tolerance of feminine deity: the Guglielmites were suppressed not because they regendered the Trinity, but because they posed a direct challenge to the Church's institutional authority. By doctrinal definition, God could have only one Son, whose person and natures had been precisely defined by a series of ecumenical councils. To divinize a male personification within a Christian frame of reference would have been to fall afoul of the Nicene Creed by introducing a rival deity. But the daughters of God allowed more space to maneuver precisely because they did not compete with the Trinity. In other words, male God-language was taken literally and therefore carefully regulated, while female God-language was accepted as jigurata locutio and granted some latitude. In the figure of Wisdom or Sapientia, the Old Testament already offered one goddess who had been interpreted by the earliest Christians as a figura of Christ. Thus, when Wisdom is enthroned in the temple at the end of Prudentius's Psychomachia, she is exalted not only as queen of the Virtues, but as a direct figuration of the Son of God. The status of Wisdom, however, was readily extended to other goddess figures. As Carolynn Van Dyke remarks, 'the representation of Christ as a per44 M. Benedetti, lo non sono 1998); L. Muraro, Guglielma B. Newman, 'Woman Spirit, Studies in Medieval Religion and

Dio. Guglielma di Mila.no e i Figli dello Spirito santo (Milan e Maifreda. Storia di un'eresia femminista (Milan 1985); Woman Pope', in From Virile Woman to Woman Christ. Literature (Philadelphia 1995), pp. 182-223.

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sonified abstraction is disturbing and even blasphemous unless we assume Christ to be the higher reality. And if sapientia is a name for Christ, perhaps all the virtues are ultimately versions of him.'45 Their relation may be one of identity, as in Suso's Life, but it may also be one of sisterhood, filiation, or marriage. The relational terms of 'daughter' and 'bride' proved useful because they implied both a likeness to God and a closeness to him, but also a hierarchical subordination and thus a mediating role between God and humans. What allegory preferred to express through the filial relationship could also be asserted in the abstract philosophical language of participation. In identifying Lady Philosophy as 'properly God', Christine quoted Boethius's Platonic maxim that 'although by nature there is only one God, by participation there are many.' Each goddess thus represents a distinct way to approach and experience, or 'participate in', the Divine. To assert that Lady Reason is the daughter of God is to say that, by the diligent exercise of our reasoning powers, we participate in the divine nature; to assert that Lady Poverty is Christ's bride is to say that (only) those who embrace voluntary poverty are truly united with him. More audaciously, if Nature is a daughter of God then her chief responsibility, procreation, is indirectly a divine work in which humans partake through sexual activity. In these and many other possible ways, mortals may participate in the Godhead by way of the goddesses, who serve as mediators in a Platonic hierarchy of being. Unlike Christ, technically 'the only mediator between God and men' (1 Tim. 2.5), goddesses could mediate a variety of relationships to the Divine that did not fall easily within the terms of atonement theology or the eschatological framework of Scripture. Mediation or participation in the Divine was certainly the main function of medieval goddesses, but by no means the only one. Among their secondary roles was one that seems indigenous to the medium of allegory: dramatizing internal conflict. As many scholars have observed, it is a rare psychological theory that can dispense with personification figures. Medieval writers personified Love and Reason, Conscience and Will; but Freud had his id, ego, and superego, and Jung his persona, shadow, and anima—all personifications that tend to assume quasi-independent lives. The 'inner child' has emerged as a favorite character in contemporary pop psychology, Van Dyke, Fiction of Truth, p. 61.

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while patients with multiple personality disorder act out the allegorizing impulse by turning their inner personifications into full-fledged characters. Psychologists of the most diverse schools, from Prudentius onward, have attempted to clarify inner conflicts by representing them as struggles for dominance among competing forces within the psyche. The medieval locus classicus for this type of allegory is Guillaume de Lorris's portion of the Roman de la Rose, where the Lady's vacillating moods of attraction and resistance to her lover are dramatized through the actions of Fair Welcome, Fear, Shame, Pity, Candor, and other personifications. In one of the more intriguing religious uses of allegory, the Rose strategy is applied to the mind of God: an inner conflict confronting the deity is exposed and resolved through a debate among goddesses. Let us return to Robert Grosseteste's Chateau d'Amour and the four daughters of God. While Grosseteste's version of this allegory was not the first, it was by far the most influential.46 In his poem, a powerful king has one son and four daughters. The king does nothing without the help of his son, who knows all his counsel and shares in his rule, while each of the daughters has 'diversely' received her own share of his wisdom, wealth, and power. Their names are Mercy, Truth, Justice, and Peace, and without them 'the king could not govern his realm in peace or judge it righteously.'47 Trouble arises when a serf, who has committed a grave offense against his lord, is thrown into prison and tortured by his enemies, who will accept no ransom. Mercy pleads for the wretched captive's release, but Truth points out that if he is freed, the king's power will no longer be respected and no transgressor will be deterred from crime. Justice seconds Truth, arguing that the prisoner fully deserves his fate. But Peace, offended that no one has sought her counsel, threatens to flee the realm if her sisters do not cease quarreling. Each sister 46

H. Traver, The Four Daughters of God. A Study of the Versions of this Allegory (Philadelphia 1907); S. Chew, The Virtues Reconciled. An Iconographic Study (Toronto 1947). Prior Latin versions include those of Hugh of St. Victor, Adnotationes elucidatoriae in quosdam Psalmos David, c. 63 (PL 177, 623-25), and Bernard of Clairvaux, Sermo 1 in Annuntiatione Dominica, in Sancti Bernardi Opera, ed. J. Leclercq, H. Rochais, and C. H. Talbot (Rome 1957-77): V, 13-29. 47 'Quatre filles out icest rei; / A chescune dona par sei / Sun afferant de sa sustance, / De sun sen e de sa puissance / A chescune diversement, / Solom ceo ke a li apent. / De sa sustance out chescune, / E trestut est sustance une / Ke a lur pere aveneit; / Ne sanz iceo il ne poeit / Sun regne en pes governer, / Ne od dreiture justiser.' Chateau d'Amour, ed. Murray, p. 95, lines 217—28.

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appeals to the king by her own birthright—Mercy reminding him that he is king of humility and pity, Truth that he never swerves from the truth, Justice that he is righteous in all his judgments, and Peace that he is prince of peace. The king himself does not respond to these pleas, but his son does, promising to satisfy each sister's claim: Misericorde merci crie, Primerement serra oie. Trestut sun voleir ferai, A Verite 1'acorderai. Del serf prendrai la vesteiire En verite e en dreiture; Sustendrai le jugement E kant ke a Justise apent, E Pes en terre frai crier, E Justice e Pes baiser. E ensi finerai la guerre E sauverai ta gent en terre. (445-56)

Mercy cries out for mercy: she will be heard first of all. I will do all her will And reconcile it with Truth. I will put on the serf's clothing In truth and righteousness; I will endure the judgment And all that belongs to Justice, And I will proclaim Peace on earth And cause Justice and Peace to kiss. And thus I will end the war And save your people on earth.

In this way the poet-theologian works out the dynamics of Anselmian atonement theology and allows God to preserve all his attributes intact, giving truth and justice their due even as he shows mercy to fallen man and restores peace between heaven and earth. 'Mercy and Truth have met together; Justice and Peace have kissed each other' (Psalm 84.11). Grosseteste concludes his allegory of the four daughters with a cautionary gloss on the Trinity: the significance of the exemplum 'plainly' refers to the unity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Yet the fable posits not a three-personed God, but one who is father of five children; it tells of discord rather than unity; and it completely omits the Holy Spirit. If Grosseteste was so concerned to promote belief in the Trinity, one might ask why he didn't simply imagine a conversation among the three Persons instead of introducing the fictional four daughters. But to have done so might have seemed blasphemous; even Milton achieved dubious results with that strategy. In this case, goddess allegory made it possible for the writer not just to express, but even to think, theological thoughts of a kind the scholastic framework rendered unthinkable. To personify the virtues, to give divine attributes body and voice, meant to make them accessible as mediators not only for the intellect but also for the imagination. One might 'envision' them, enter into dialogue with them, take them as mothers or lovers, teachers

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or friends—and by means of these relationships, encounter God. In tracing the literary careers of medieval goddesses, therefore, we discover currents of piety that were unofficial, but by no means marginal; undogmatic, but hardly unorthodox. For, under cover offabula, the goddesses severally and collectively altered the face of Christendom's God.

AMOR TRANSFORM T AMANTEM IN AMA TUM. BERNHARD VON WAGING AN NICOLAUS CUSANUS UBER DIE VISION EINER REFORMUNWILLIGEN NONNE Paul Gerhard Schmidt

Epistula de quadam visione cuiusdam virginis (so in A, Clm 4403, fol. 123r— 129V) bzw. Epistola cuiusdam religiosi de distinctione visionum et de cuiusdam puelle revelatione (so in B, Clm. 15180, fol. 153r~157v) lautet der Titel eines bisher wohl unpublizierten Traktates, den ein Anonymus einem hochgestellten Geistlichen widmete, dessen Name in den Handschriften nicht genannt wird.1 Der unbekannte geistliche Autor erklart, daB er auf Weisung des hohen Kirchenfiirsten und Klosterreformators den Traktat verfaBt habe. Mit einem nicht selten verwendeten Topos versichert er, daB seine Krafte dem ihm aufgetragenen Werk nicht gewachsen seien; aber im Vertrauen auf Gottes Hilfe und die Unterstiitzung seiner Mitbriider habe er zu der ihm vorgelegten Frage Stellung genommen, um dadurch seine Verbundenheit und seine Zuneigung zu dem Auftraggeber unter Beweis zu stellen. Bei dem Text handelt es sich nicht um ein Erstlingswerk, denn der Verfasser erwahnt eine formula spiritualis exercitii, die er dem Bewidmeten schon bei einer anderen Gelegenheit zugesandt habe. Weiterhin nennt er eine von ihm verfaBte Schrift iiber die mystische Theologie bzw. die mystischen Visionen des Heiligen Dionysius. Er ist, wie aus der hier edierten Epistula hervorgeht, ein gebildeter Theologe, der mit den wichtigsten Autoritaten iiber Visionen gut vertraut war. Unter den von ihm herangezogenen Quellentexten finden sich neben den Kirchenvatern Augustinus, Ambrosius, Hieronymus und Gregorius auch Bernhard von Clairvaux, Hugo von St. Viktor und/oder Hugo von Balma, Bonaventura, Augustinus von Ancona (Triumphus) und Heinrich von Langenstein, dazu der wohl im 12. Jahrhundert entstandene Briefwechsel iiber den Tod des Hieronymus und mehrere Zitate aus den Schriften des Pseudo-Dionysius. Der Autor hat nicht 1 Fur Hilfe und Hinweise danke ich Marc-Aeilko Aris, Michael Bachmann, Johannes Grave, Florian Lamke und insbesondere Franziska Schnoor, die eine Transkription von Codex B erstellte.

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alle von ihm verwendeten Zitate erstmals zusammengestellt. Vor allem das fur den Titel dieses Aufsatzes gewahlte Motto, das er Dionysius Areopagita zuschreibt, Transformat amantem in amatum, fand er zusammen mit einem stark veranderten Zitat aus Augustinus Confessiones bereits bei Heinrich von Langenstein.2 Der Autor der Epistula diirfte im 15. Jahrhundert gelebt haben. Die Handschrift A bietet im Explicit das Datum des 30. Januar 1467, das m. E. als Datum der Abschrift und nicht als Datum der Abfassung der Epistula zu verstehen ist.3 Fur das 15. Jahrhundert als Abfassungszeit spricht auch die Erwahnung der Klosterreform, an der der Empfanger des Briefes maBgeblich beteiligt war. Der selbstbewuBte Verfasser der Epistula fordert seinen hohen Auftraggeber nachdrucklich dazu auf, in seinem Kampf fur die Sittenreinheit des Klerus und die Befolgung der approbierten Regeln in den Klostern nicht nachzulassen. Im Zusammenhang mit der Klosterreform steht die Vision einer Nonne, die vom Verfasser der Epistula sehr dezidiert als gefahrlich und suspekt bezeichnet wird. Er warnt seinen Auftraggeber geradezu vor dieser Vision und rat dem Kirchenfursten, mit dem Kloster, in dem diese Visionarin lebt, keinen direkten Kontakt zu pflegen. Er empfiehlt ihm, nur iiber Mittelsmanner mit den Nonnen dieses Klosters zu verkehren, damit sein guter Ruf keinen Schaden nehme. Eine solche Warnung macht auf den Inhalt der Vision neugierig. Die Epistula macht leider keine Angaben iiber Ort und Zeit der Vision, sie nennt auch nicht den Namen der Visionarin. Aus den AuBerungen des Autors der Epistula geht jedoch hervor, daB der fragliche Nonnenkonvent nicht nach einer der bekannten und approbierten monastischen Regeln lebte. Er spricht diesem Konvent ausdriicklich die Beachtung der drei Grundprinzipien Armut, Keuschheit und Gehorsam ab. Sie gaben sich zwar nach auBen hin als Nonnen, befolgten aber keine Regel und seien damit Heuchlerinnen. Die Vision scheint einen Passus enthalten zu haben, wonach der Konvent 2

Vgl. Anm. 45-47. A ist beschrieben im Catalogus Codicum Latinorum Bibliothecae Regiae Monacensis, I, P. II (Miinchen 1871), S. 160; B wird in II, P. Ill (Miinchen 1878), S. 6 beschrieben. A stammt aus St. Ulrich in Augsburg und enthalt zahlreiche Schriften des Tegernseer Priors Bernhard von Waging. B gehorte dem Augustinerchorherrenstift Rebdorf und enthalt vorwiegend monastische Texte. Der erste Teil des Codex wurde laut Subscriptio von Conrad Schiitzn im Jahre 1454 geschrieben. 3

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nach Regeln lebt, die ihm in einem Himmelsbrief oder einer Vision zuteil wurden. Unter Hinweis auf diese neue Regel beanspruchen die Nonnen einen Vorrang vor anderen Klostern und Orden. Der Verfasser der Epistula wendet sich mit aller Scharfe und unter Anfiihrung kirchlicher Rechtsgrundsatze gegen derartige eigenmachtige Regeln. Selbst eine himmlische Oflfenbarung miisse sich eine Uberpriifung durch den Papst gefallen lassen, sonst herrsche Chaos in der Kirche. Die Vision zielte mit der Anfiihrung himmlischer Autoritaten allem Anschein nach darauf hin, den hohen Kirchenfiirsten von reformierenden Eingriffen in das Konventsleben zuriickzuhalten. In der Vision scheinen dem Auftraggeber unsaubere Absichten und Handlungen unterstellt worden zu sein. Er muB den in der kirchlichen Hierarchic unter ihm stehenden Autor der Epistula um eine Priifung und Widerlegung der von den Nonnen erhobenen Vorwiirfe und Anspriiche gebeten haben. Dessen Gutachten iiber die Vision ist eindeutig: neben wahren ereignen sich auch viele triigerische Visionen. Der Teufel verwandele sich oft in einen Engel des Lichts und lasse sich anbeten, als ware er Christus selbst. Unter RiickgrirT auf die reiche theoretische Literatur iiber die Unterscheidung von Visionen legt der Gutachter den Gedanken nahe, daB die Visionarin vermutlich nicht in der erforderlichen demiitigen Geisteshaltung gewesen sei, als ihr das Gesicht zuteil wurde. Es scheint, daB ihr ein Heiliger begegnete, der sich als Dionysius zu erkennen gab und sie aufforderte, ihn zu verehren. Der im Mittelalter mehrfach iibersetzte und kommentierte Pseudo-Dionysius Areopagita, der in den 30er Jahren des 15. Jahrhunderts durch Ambrogio Traversari erneut in das Lateinische iibertragen und mit groBer Resonanz aufgenommen wurde, war um die Mitte des 15. Jahrhunderts eine der groBten geistigen Autoritaten. Wer ihn in einer Vision instrumentalisierte, unternahm den Versuch, die Reformer mit ihren eigenen Waffen zu schlagen. Man konnte das Gutachten iiber die Vision als eine Etappe im Kampf um die Reform der Kloster verstehen. Es ware denkbar, daB die Vision der Nonne in Tirol verbreitet wurde, wo Nikolaus von Kues als Bischof von Brixen in langandauernden, erbitterten Streitereien fur die Klosterreform kampfte. Es ware einer seiner Gegnerinnen, der Abtissin des Benediktinerinnenklosters Sonnenburg, Verena von Stuben, durchaus zuzutrauen, daB sie die Verbreitung eines Visionstextes forderte, in dem ausgerechnet der von Nikolaus von Kues oft

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zitierte und verehrte Heilige Dionysius dem Konvent seinen Schutz zusicherte und dem Reformeifer des Bischofs Einhalt gebot.4 So spektakular der Streit mit Verena von Stuben war, handelte es sich nicht um die einzige Auseinandersetzung des Kirchenfiirsten mit einem Nonnenkonvent. Man konnte u.a. auch an seine dornigen Bemiihungen um die Reform der Klarissen in Brixen denken.5 Nikolaus von Kues war nicht der einzige Reformer in seiner Zeit. Warum hier dennoch der Versuch unternommen wird, ihn als Adressaten der Epistula in Erwagung zu ziehen, liegt in der Person des Autors begriindet. Der Augsburger Codex (A), der eine fast fehlerfreie Fassung des Textes bietet, enthalt gro'Btenteils Werke des mit Nikolaus von Kues befreundeten Tegernseer Priors Bernhard von Waging. So liegt es nahe, Bernhard von Waging auch dieses Gutachten zuzuschreiben. Er stand mit Nikolaus von Kues in engem Briefwechsel, hat ihm mehrere Werke gewidmet und war bei einer Visitation des Klosters Sonnenburg anwesend.6 Waging war jedoch auch mit dem Eichstatter Bischof Johann von Eych befreundet, der seinerseits das Nonnenkloster St. Walburg reformierte.7 Auch er hatte in der Vision einer Nonne dinamiert worden sein konnen. Der Sieg der Reformkrafte, die sich u.a. in der Melker Reformbewegung zusammengeschlossen hatten, diirfte es mit sich gebracht haben, daB derartige Tendenzund Kampfschriften der reformunwilligen Konvente bald keine Verbreitung mehr fanden. Im Laufe der Katalogisierung der Handschriften vornehmlich des

4 W. Baum, Nikolaus Cusanus in Tirol. Das Wirken des Philosophen und Reformators als Fiirstbischof von Brixen (Bozen 1983); H. Hallauer, 'Eine Visitation des Nikolaus von Kues im Benediktinerinnenkloster Sonnenburg' in Mitteilungen und Forschungsbeitrage der Cusanus-Gesellschaft 4 (1964), 104-125. 5 H. Hallauer, 'Nikolaus von Kues und das Brixener Klarissenkloster' in Mitteilungen und Forschungsbeitrage der Cusanus-Gesellschaft 6 (1967), 75-123. 6 Zu Bernhard von Waging vgl. den Artikel im Verfasserlexikon, hrsg. von K. Ruh, I (Berlin / New York 1978), Sp. 779-789 von Werner Hover, der eine der beiden Handschriften der Epistola nennt und das Werk tentativ Waging zuschreibt Sp. 785, Nr. 19). Teile des Briefwechsels sind publiziert von E. Vansteenberghe, Autour de la docte ignorance. Une controverse sur la theologie mystique au XVe siecle (Miinster 1915) (Beitrage zur Geschichte der Philosopie des Mittelalters 24, 2—4). 7 H. Riemann, Der Briefwechsel Bemhards von Waging und Johannes' von Eych (1461)1463. Speculum pastorum et animarum rectorum. Epistula impugnatona. Defensonum speculi pastorum et animarum rectorum. %ur Kontroverse u'ber Rang und Verdienst des aktiven und des kontemplativen Lebens. Diss. phil. (Koln 1985); eadem, '"De cognoscendo deum". Die Entstehungsgeschichte eines Traktates des Bernhard von Waging zum Mystikerstreit des 15. Jahrhunderts' in Emheit und Vielheit. Festschrift fur Karl Bormann zum 65. Geburtstag, hg. L. Hagemann und R. Glei (Wiirzburg 1993), S. 121-160.

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Spatmittelalters ist fest damit zu rechnen, daB noch weitere Handschriften des Gutachtens liber die Visio cuiusdam puelle erschlossen und vielleicht auch die Namen der beteiligten Personen bekannt werden. Sollten dabei andere als die hier vorgeschlagenen Namen zutage treten, bliebe die Instrumentalisierung der pseudo-dionysischen Schriften und der Wert des iiberaus kritischen Gutachtens iiber die Vision davon unberiihrt.

Epistula de quadam visione cuiusdam virginis8 Obedienciam filialem sui cum ipsius humili recommendacione in Christi Ihesu dilectione affectanter preoblatam, reverendissime pater in Christo, michique in eodem medullitus amande. Quamquam opus a vestra michi paterna caritate iniunctum mee facultatis vires omnino excedat, ymmo nee intellectus mei illuminacio, nee vite puritas, nee experiencie claritas suppetat, unde eciam sapientis me graviter percuciat dictum Stultus profert simul totum spiritum suum, sapiens resewat in posterunP et beati patris Bernhardi super Cantica sermone 18 Quod tuum est, spargis, si priusquam infundaris tu totus, semiplenus festines effimdere.w Insuper in hiis omnibus supra modum terret me, quoniam vestram video sanctitatem me existimare supra id, quod est in me, quod nichil aliud quam spiritus mei indiscreta effecit effusio. Ipse tamen sancti amoris fervor, quo spiritus meus beato spiritui vestro viscerose conglutinatus est, opus a vestra gracia tarn seriose michi iniunctum aggredi me compulit. Confisus de Dei auxilio et quorumdam fratrum meorum fretus presidio, feci non quantum volui, sed quantum potui, rivulos sacre scripture transcurrens, triplicem invenio revelativam visionem, visibilem videlicet sive sensibilem, ymaginariam et intellectualem. Sensibilis visio est, quando aliquid videtur exterius, et intus intelligitur significatum illius, sicut Moyses vidit rubum ardentem et audivit de rubo Dominum dicentem sibi Hec die filiis Israel, Deus Abraham, Deus Isaac et cetera.'' In hac visione ostendit Dominus ignem 8

Bei der Erstellung der Edition habe ich angesichts der hohen Qualitat beider Textzeugen auf die Mitteilung von Orthographica und Umstellungen in der Wortfolge verzichtet. B enthalt mehrere Fliichtigkeitsfehler. 9 Prov 29, 11. 10 S. Bernardus, Opera I, Sermones super Cantica (Rom 1957), Sermo 18, S. 104, 13sqq. 11 Exod 3, 6.

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divinitatis uniendum cum rubo humanitatis, quod Moyses intus intellexit. Sic leremias vidit ollam succensam,12 Daniel in pariete scripturam13 et cetera. Necessitas autern huius visibilis revelacionis fuit, ut dicit Dyonisius ad Tytum,14 ut homo, qui constat ex duabus naturis, anima scilicet racionali, que simplex est in essencia, et corpore composito, iuxta utriusque nature proprietatem illuminetur divinis cognidonibus, et ut mens eius puras, simplices et intimas signorum sensibilium intelligencias segregate ab ipsis signis conspiciat, et sensualitas eiusdem per nature proprietatem coaptetur mentali cognicioni et sic ad divina extendatur. Hec ille. Et in ista sensibili visione nonnunquam quedam visibilis ymago apparet loquens vel aliquid dicens, et sic frequenter in veteri lege angeli in humanis corporibus apparuere patribus, ut patet intuenti; similiter in nova lege ut Zacharie,15 patri lohannis Baptiste, et beatissime virgini Marie.16 Et ad hoc potest referri quorumlibet sensuum exteriorum experiencia ut auditus, odoratus, tactus et cetera. Unde Exodo 2: Populus vidit (A: 123V) voces.11 Ymaginaria vero visio est, quando in virtute ymaginativa formantur ymagines sive in sobrio vigilante sive eciam in raptu, ut fuerunt visiones Ezechielis, Danielis et eciam lohannis Evangeliste in Apocalypsi. Fiunt eciam aliquando in sompno, ut lacob vidit Dominum innixum scale18 et Pharao19 et Nabuchodonosor et cetera. Sed intellectualis visio est, quando sine ymaginibus vel figuris menti alicuius veritas revelatur sicut David in Psalmis et ipsi Danieli cogitacio Nabuchodonosor.20 Similiter quando intellectus intelligit, que ymaginacio obtulit. Et potest addi quarta visio, que superintellectualis dicitur. Et fit solum in summo mentis apice, quando videlicet ipse apex affectus a Spiritu sancto tangitur. Tune mens super omnem intellectum, (B: 153V) intelligenciam et racionem ipsi summo bono per unitivum amorem coniungitur, que est certissima, quia solum fit, quando Spiritus sanctus mentem super seipsam elevat; in qua nulla potest esse decepcio. De qua plura graciose paternitati vestre antecedenter

12 13

14 15 16

17 18 19 20

ler 1, 13. Dan 5, 5. Dionysiaca I, S. 192sq., De divinis nominibus. Luc 1, 12. Luc 1, 28. Exod 20, 18. Gen 28, 13. Gen 41, 1. Dan 2, 1.

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in formula spiritualis exercitii scripsi et plura scripsissem, sed propter congruenciam nuncii a reverendo patre meo graviter impulsus sum, quod eciam ilia, que scripsi, cum diligenti advertencia perlegere et corrigere non potui. Similiter eciam de intellectuali, que acquiritur in via illuminativa, que, quamvis sit multum cercior duabus primis visionibus, potest tamen in ea decipi, qui non humiliter incedit. Quare de hiis ad presens dimitto. Prime due species visionum in hoc conveniunt, quod non solum bonis, sed sepe eciam malis ostenduntur. Et quandoque vere sunt et aliqui per eas erudiuntur ad veritatem. Quandoque sunt false et per eas aliqui deluduntur. Quibus dicitur Ezechiele 13 Visionem cassam vidistis et divinacionem mendacii locutus estis.21 Item nee faciunt sanctum nee ostendunt. Alioquin et Balaam sanctus esset et asina eius, que vidit angelum Dei.22 Item et si vere sunt, tamen per se meritorie non sunt. Et qui multa vidit talia, non est melior, et qui nulla, non est peyor. Unde Dominus in ewangelio Mattei 7° Multi dicent michi in illo die: Domine, nonne in nomine tuo prophetavimus, demonia eiecimus et virtutes multas fecimus? Et tune confitebor illis, quia nescio vos, discedite a me, qui operamini iniquitatem.^ Periculose ergo sunt huiusmodi visiones et non affectande, sed multum metuende, quoniam per eas multi, qui eciam magne sanctitatis viri reputati fuere, seducti sunt et miserabiliter perierunt, ut patet intuenti Vitas patrum et specialiter in libro collacionum sanctorum patrum, ubi abbas Moyses in secunda sua collacione plura adducit.24 Unde dicit ibidem capitulo quinto,25 quod senex quidam Heron nomine quinquaginta annis in heremo constitutus singularem districtionem continentie et solitudinis tenuit (A: 124r) ita, ut nee in die sancto pasche fratribus convenientibus comparuit. Qui tamen post tantos labores ab insidiatore delusus suo gravissimo lapsu omnes patres in tali heremo commorantes luctuoso dolore percussit. Nam sui rigoris presumpcione deceptus angelum sathane in angelum lucis transformatum cum summa veneracione suscipiens consilio eius se in puteum profundissimum precipitavit. Swaserat enim sibi illusor, quod virtuturn suarum merito nequaquam posset ulli discrimini subiacere. Item

21

Ezec 13, 7. Num 22, 21sqq. 23 Matth 7, 22sqq. 24 PL 73, 845 D-847 B, Vitas patrum; nach Cassian, Collatioms 7, 26sq. (ed. Petschenig (Wien 1936) (CSEL 13, 2), S. 204-207). 25 PL 73, 841 A-C, Vitas Patrum (nach Cassian, Collatioms 2, 5, S. 44sq.). 22

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capitulo sexto ibidem de alio quodam,26 qui dum longo tempore demonem in angeli suscepit claritate, revelacionibus eius innumeris sepe deceptus credidit nunccium esse iusticie. Nam exceptis hiis eciam per omnes noctes in cella eius lumen absque ullius lucerne prebebat officio. Qui tandem delusus filium suum iubetur offerre, ut Abrahe equaretur merito, qui iussa complere voluit et parricidium committere, sed puer videns eum cultellum acuere, extra morem vincula aptare, aufugit et cetera. Legantur ibidem et hii et innumerabiles alii, qui miserabiliter in corpore et anima interierunt, quia virtute vere discretionis caruerunt. Qui si dicti Apostolici secundo ad Corinthios 11 Ipse Sathanas transfigurat se in angelum lucis21 memores fuissent, prius diligenter probassent, si spiritus a Deo fuissent et sic lamentabiliter non interissent (B: 154r). Transfigurat autem Sathanas se in angelum lucis, quia si in sua figura compareret, que turpis est, horrerent eum homines et fugerent. Si aperte eos inpungnaret, resisterent ei et ad auxilium Dei fugentes (!) vincerent et sic nichil apud eos proficeret. Nam ea, que mundi sunt,28 veri religiosi detestantur et immunda peccata horrent, quia virtuosi sunt; viriliter eciam contra omne, quod malum esse cognoscunt, pungnant. Venit ergo angelus Sathane in specie boni angeli, quern credit a bonis diligi, ut tanto facilius decipiat eos, quanto verius bonus nunccius putatur, et qui non soleat nisi bona nuncciare. Unde dicit Augustinus in Soliloquiorum capitulo 17:29 Versutus est, Domine, hostis iste et tortuosus, nee facile deprehendi potest circuitus vie eius nee cognosci species wultus eius, nisi tu illumines. Nam nunc hie, nunc illic; nunc agnum, nunc lupum; nunc tenebras, 'nunc lucem se ostendit; secundum varias rerum mutaciones varias exhibet temptaciones. Nam, ut tristes decipiat, tristatur et ipse; ut gaudentes illudat, Jingit se et ipse gaudere (A: 124V); ut spirituales defraudet, in angelum lucis se transfigurat; ut fortes comprimat, apparet agnus; ut mites devoret, apparet lupus. Hec quidem omnia secundum similitudines vanarum temptacionum effici habent, sicut et alias a timore nocturno, alios a sagitta volante in die, olios a negocio perambulante in tenebris, ab incursu alios, alios a demonio meridiano (Ps 90,3sq.). Et ad hec quis ydoneus, ut cognoscat? Quis revelavit speciem vestimenti eius et girum dencium (lob 41,4sq.) eius quis agnovit? Abscondit sagittas suas in pharetra et laqueos

26

PL 73, 842 B, Vitas Patrum (nach Cassian, Collationes 2, 7, S. 46). 2 Cor 11, 14. 28 1 Cor 7, 33. 29 Es handelt sich um Pseudo-Augustinus, Soliloquiorum animae ad Deum, eine Kompilation des friihen 13. Jahrhunderts: PL 40, 878sq. 27

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eciam abscondit sub specie lucis. Et hoc difficilius eciam perpenditur, nisi a te, Domine, spes nostra, lumen assit, quo videamus. Mam non solum in carnis operibus, que de facili cognoscuntur, non tantum in ipsis viciis, sed eciam in ipsis spiritualibus exerciciis laqueos abscondit subfiles et sub virtutum colore vicia induit. Hec et multa alia nititur contra filios tuos Belial iste sathan, Domine Deus noster. Et nunc ut leo, nunc ut draco, manifeste et occulte, intus et extra, die ac nocte insidiatur, ut rapiat animas nostras. Et tu eripe nos, Domine, qui salvos fads sperantes in te (Ps 76,7), ut doleat ipse de nobis et tu lauderis, Domine Deus noster. Hec ille. Ex hiis clare patet, quam periculosa res sit et formidulosa huiusmodi sensibilis visio ac revelacio. Qua re in illis visionum generibus magna est cautela adhibenda, ne falsa pro veris, noxia pro salubribus, exigua pro eximiis, indifferencia pro summis recipiantur. Solum autem Spiritus sanctus per donum consilii et graciam discrecionis spirituum scit hominem expedire et certum reddere, quid in illis recipiendum sit et respuendum et quomodo eis utendum. Sicut et prophetas et sanctos docuit, quibus non solum vera ostendit, sed eciam per veritatis testimonium, quoniam vera essent, demonstravit. Aliis autem videtur securius talia non querere, oblata non cito credere, deceptionis caveam timere, aliquando eciam oblata sicut minus fructuosa parvipendere, ut si vera sint, se habeat indifferenter, si falsa, non innitatur eis. Et si velit advertere, querat super hiis consilium sapientum et solummodo paucorum et ad ilia studiose se exerceat, que sunt secura et (B: 154V) meritoria ac eciam fructuosa, videlicet vicia extirpare, virtutum studiis fideliter insudare et per oracionis usum mentem ad devocionis affectum accendere. Hec sunt salubria, leta et fructuosa religiosorum studia, et quanto quis se in illis diligencius exercuerit, tanto maioris meriti et glorie apud Deum erit. Hec venerabilis Hugo in de profectibus religiosorum.30 Sed forte dicitur michi, quid agendum est, quando huiusmodi visio importune (A: 125r) se ingesserit et tarn salubria tarn dulcia (A,B: dulcia ve) intimaverit. Ad quod respondeo secundum Bonaventuram in tercio Sentenciarum distinctione nona, 31 quod huic visioni non est statim fides adhibenda nee illud simpliciter, ut dicit sanctus Dionysius, debet adorari ac venerande pater nominari, ne se filiam dyaboli precipitanter et incaute profiteatur. Sed ex quo res est

30 Unter den Schriften Hugos von St. Viktor begegnet kein Werk dieses Titels. Eventuell ist an Hugo von Balma zu denken. 31 Bonaventura, Liber III Sententiamm (Quaracchi 1941), Dist. IX, Art. 1, Quaest. 6, S. 202-204.

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insolita, debet credulitatem suam suspendere et cogitare, quod Johannes dicit prima canonica quarto Nolite omni spiritui credere, sed probate spiritus, si ex Deo sint.^ Ita sancti fecerunt ut beatus Martinus, sicut habetur in eius legenda, queratur ibi.33 Sic ergo debet homo in talibus non precipitanter agere, sed, ut dixi, credulitatem debet suspendere, quia, qui talibus raris cito credit, levis est corde. Et per devotam oracionem debet ad Deum recurrere, ut cor ipsius illuminet et, quid agendum sit, ostendat. Dominus autem ex sua bonitate nostris defectibus condescendens, facientes quod in se est et humiliter ac devote ad eum recurrentes dignatur dirigere, exaudire et adiuvare aliquando per internam inspiracionem mentem humilis famuli vel famule sue lumine veritatis irradiando aut ad aliquem hominem, qui possit iuvare, clementer dirigendo, sicut fecit Cornelio Actuum decimo (Act 10,lsqq.), aut aliquo alio modo sibi placenti. Utrum autem puella ista peccet, sic referendo vel dulie adorando visam ymaginem, supposito, quod sit angelus Sathane, respondetur secundum Bonaventuram ut supra, quod dupliciter contingit hominem latrie sive dulie vel yperdulie, que iam capio pro eodem dyabolo Christi adversaria exhiberi, uno modo simpliciter, alio modo sub condicione. Simpliciter adorando non potest esse sine peccato, quia cultus latrie sive dulie exhibetur ei, cui omnino exhiberi non debet, et sic committitur ibi ydolatna, si ymago preferat Christum, sacrilegium vero, si preferat angelum vel aliquem sanctum. Nee excusatur ibi homo per ignoranciam, habet enim triplex adiutorium, per quod potest errorem vitare: Primum est remedium sacre scripture, que incantat homines in evangelio, in epistulis Pauli, lohannis, Petri et cetera.34 Multociens dicitur, quod multi sunt venturi in nomine Christi mendaciter. Secundum est remedium oracionis interne, qua homo debet ad Deum recurrere, sicut dictum est. Tercium est suspensio credulitatis sue, donee certus esse possit. Si autem adorat sub condicione actuali sic cogitando vel expresse dicendo 'Si tu es beatus Dyonisius, tune tu es pater meus amandus', tune non adorat Luciferum, sed magis beatum Dyonisium, quia non stat adoracio (A: 125V) nisi stante condicione et ad eum refertur adoracionis implicacio et sic non peccat. Qua re omnimodo consulo, ut si amplius contingeret visionem huiusmodi fieri, ut sequatur consilium beatissimi Anthonii in eiusdem visionibus expertissimi. Cum primo visio se presentat, signet se signo vivifice 32

33 34

1 loh 4, 1. Zitat nicht ermittelt. Wie Anm. 31.

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crucis et dicat audacter: 'Quis es tu?' Et si tune respondeat: 'Ego sum pater tuus Dyonisius', dicat: 'Si tu es (B: 155r) beatus Dyonisius, tune utique es pater meus dilectissimus. Sed ego indignitatem meam sciens tarn sanctissimum patrem ad me indignam venire non credo, nisi certitudinaliter edocta fuero.' Si autem adorat sub condicione solum habitudinaliter considerata ilia, non sufficit ad vitandum peccatum respectu huius apparicionis insolite, ad quam non debet adoracio fieri sed cum maturitate. Secundo dicit idem doctor, quod huiusmodi appariciones non sunt desiderande, ut fiant, quia, qui eas desiderat, verisimiliter inflatus est corde, cum putat se ad huiusmodi visiones ydoneum. Tercio dicit, quod, si fiant, sunt ex humilitate pocius formidande.30 Sic informamur in dulcissima matre Domini, virgine Maria, que turbata est in sermone angeli. Unde Bernhardus: Maria non altum sapit ita, ut eciam salutacionem angelicam vereatur, nimirum indignam se salutacione angelica reputabat. Et forsan talia meditabatur: 'Unde hoc michi, ut venial angelus Domini mei ad me?'26 Sic eciam narratur de sancto quodam patre, quod, cum ei dyabolus in specie Christi appareret, ille clausis oculis dixit se in hac vita nolle Christum videre, et dyabolus eius humilitate confusus statim evanuit.37 Sic faciat et hec famula Christi, et si est opus dyaboli, statim dissolvetur; si autem est opus Dei, sine dubio cercius revelabitur. Ex hiis clare patet, quod ipsa usque ad presens se indiscrete in hac visione habuit, eum sic simpliciter venerando et eius doctrinam tamquam evangelice veritati consonam approbando. Nam et dyabolus hoc facit, sed in malum finem. Unde beatus Anthonius dixit suis discipulis: 'Ob id enim demones familiares nobis species assumunt, ut affinitate virtutum nocentes facilius virus interserant et innocentes quosque per speciem honestatis elidant, ut postea dicetur.' Nunc stilus ad aliqualem huius visionis discussionem se convertat. Pro quo est primo notandum, quod, si hec visio cum suis revelacionibus secundum omnes circumstancias oculo diligentissime considerationis intuetur, reperiuntur aliqua in ipsa revelacionum (A: 126r) serie summe delectancia. Nam ipsa continet brevissimis verbis quasi totam misticam theologian! beatissimi patris Dionysii, quam ipse scripsit ad Thimoteum veritatis discipulum, dicens: Tu autem, Thimotee

Wie Anm. 31. S. Bernardus, Opera V, Sermones, Sermo in nativitate B. Mariae, S. 280: 9^12. Bonaventura, wie Anm. 31, S. 203 (nach Vitas Patrum, PL 73, 695 D).

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amice, circa misticas visiones forti contricione sensus derelinque38 et cetera, de qua vestre paternitati proxime aliquatenus scripsi, et de vera obediencia, quomodo aliquando aliquid debet habere ex nobis et aliquando nichil, sicut pulchre docet beatus Gregorius 32° Moralium.39 Item de bono et salubri modo regendi et exemplari conversacione verbo et exemplo veri pastoris et quod nichil de se presumat, sed omnem confidenciam suam in Deum proiciat. Que omnia secundum se et in se considerata bona sunt, sed an in bonum finem a revelante intenta sint, dubitatur. Item, quod dicit beatissimam virginem Mariam canale aureum, per quod de abyssali fonte omnis bonitatis et gracie misericordie nobis et gracie transfunduntur. Verba sunt bead leronimi ad minus in sensu. Ipse enim dicit: Omnis gracia, que est in Christo sicut in capite infundente, est in Maria sicut in collo transfundente]w et alia, que ibi de ipsa gloriosa virgine dicuntur, consonant dictis beati Bernardi in pluribus sermonibus de ipsa virgine benedicta. De apparicione angeli Gabrielis, quam dicit factam media nocte, si saltern bene perspicio verba virginis, et de incarnacione eterni verbi circa diem, a quibusdam magnis doctoribus oppositum tenetur.41 Volunt enim, quod hora completorii angelus venit ad virginem, quando ipsa cubiculum suum in (B: 155V) traverit. Et putant, quod colloquium angeli et virginis dulcissime a completorio duraverit usque ad medium noctis, et tune primo consensum dederit et statim in eodem instanti verbum eternum incarnatum sit, ut verificetur illud Sapiencie 18 Dum medium silencium tenerent omnia et nox in suo cursu medium iter haberet, omnipotens sermo tuus, Domine, de celo a regalibus sedibus venit.42 Sed in aliis omnibus, quantum michi datur intelligi, revelacio vera dicit preterquam in illo, quod dicit matrem in die ascensionis taciturnitatem incurrere et ipsam virginem, cui revelacio fit, gravi infirmitate laborare ante sacramenti dominici corporis sumpcionem, non est michi certum, an hec evenerunt. Et in hiis omnibus revelacio est sustinenda. Sed si diligentissime consideretur finis, in quem ultimate videtur tendere ista revelacio, tune, ut videtur, maius malum potest ex ea sequi quam aliquod bonum natum ex ea (A: 126V) sequi. Hoc patet primo, quantum ad ipsas virgines, quarum status, salvo iudicio meliori, quantum datur intel-

38 39 40 41 42

Dionysiaca, I (1937), S. 567 (Mystica theologia). Gregorius, Moralia in lob 32, 5, 16 u. 2, 2, 5. Zitat nicht ermittelt. Diese doctores konnte ich nicht ermitteln. Sap 18, 15.

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ligi in vestre sanctitatis litteris, michi non placet. Nam ut percipio, nulli religion! probate sunt astricte et tamen in habitu exteriori et conversacione religionem ostendunt, se a ceteris communibus bonis christianis discernentes, quod videtur sapere speciem aliquam ypocrisis. Religio namque stricte loquendo, prout dicitur a religando, id est iterum ligacio, est status perfeccionis, in quo homo ultra ligacionem preceptorum ligat se per solempne votum ad observacionem consiliorum vel ad minus ad diligentem tendenciam servandi consilia et specialiter illorum trium substancialium cuiuslibet probate religionis, scilicet paupertatis, castitatis et obediencie. Modo iste non sunt ligate per solempne votum illorum trium, ergo non sunt dicende religiose. Item inducit eciam ista revelacio novum modum religiose vivendi a ceteris religionibus ab ecclesia approbatis districtum, secundum quern forte iam vivunt, ut in illis scriptis patet, acsi ista visio vera sit et de celo missa, de quo tamen magnum est dubium. Et hoc videtur michi nullo modo admittendum, eciam si visio vera probata fuerit, nisi fuerit a pontifice approbata et coram eo solempnis professio facta, ut patet P(?) S(?) C(?) 2a 2e questio 188, argumento primo in responsione ad primum argumentum, ubi sic dicit Confusio opponitur districcioni et ordini.^ Sic ergo ex multitudine religionum induceretur confusio, si ad idem et eodem modo diverse religiones essent absque utilitate et necessitate. Unde, ut hoc non fiat, salubriter institutum est, ne nova religio nisi auctoritate pontificis instituatur. Ego autem iuris canonici ignarus hoc vestre illuminate sapientie, si bene moveor, discuciendum committo. Secundo videtur ista revelacio intendere, et sine dubio, si est ludibris, intendit istas virgines ducere in quemdam contemptum aliarum religionum, quasi ista institucio sit sanctior, tamquam de celo allata et tandem finaliter in superbiam et presumpcionem elevare de sue vite sanctitate ac eciam securitate, quasi certe sint, quod Deo accepte sint, quod quam periculosum et malum sit, patet intuenti, cum non sit aliqua institucio ab ecclesia approbata, in qua vivens humiliter secundum tria substancialia, quin in ea possit salvari. Sed quantum ad vestre sanctitatis personam, quid hec visio, si est delusoria, intendat et quo ille mille artifex acumen sue malicie dirigat, est solerter intuendum. Quantum namque bonum omnipotens Dominus per vestram personam egerit in religionum reformacione ac eciam sacerdotum in sancta puritatis institucione,

Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologica secunda secundae q. 188 a. 1, 4.

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tota quasi resonat ecclesia (B: 156r). Sed nunc ille (A: 127r) versipellis ac versutus, omnis puritatis et sanctitatis inimicus, occultissime sub pretextu magnarum virtutum ac vere discrecionis, qua sine superioris ac spiritualis patris consilio nichil agendum esse dicit, nititur ex familiari affatu femine carnalis amoris iaculo puritatis ac sanctitatis vestre cor sauciare, quod si nequiverit, ad minus ad aliquam diffamie nigredinem maculando luminosam conversacionem deicere, quod, quantum malum sit, quis valet enarrando sufficere? Nonne, quod dulcissimus Dominus avertat, si quid minutissimum diffamie super vestram paternitatem quamquam eciam mendaciter insonuerit, omnes filii Belial, quorum vitam insecuti estis, cachinoso quodam gaudio iubilarent? Nonne omnes veri amatores iusticie intollerabili quodam et dolorosa ploratu perfunderentur? Ymmo in tota ecclesia Dei, quo vestre sanctitatis fama personuit, luctuosa confusio fieret? Quod si vobis vel quibuslibet quasi impossibile videtur, legat epistulam beati Cirilli episcopi, quam de morte gloriosi leronimi scripsit ad beatissimum Augustinum.44 Ibi inveniet, quid castitatis et puritatis inimicus fecerit sanctissimo et omnium virtutum decore ornato Silvano episcopo, quantave confusio facta fuerit in omnibus Iherosolimorum partibus propter ipsius innocentissimi viri diffamiam. Et quia magnum malum per ilium tortuosum serpentem procurari non potest, nisi sub specie magni boni, fugite ergo, amantissime pater, fugite a facie huius serpentis et disponite hiis virginibus probatum virum, qui ad vos earum necessitates ac temptaciones seu negocia deferat et non ipse per se. Hec, amantissime pater, magno ex amore et singulari confidencia vestre dilectissime paternitati curavi intimare, que michi videntur ex huius revelacionis, si deceptoria est, hysteria posse elici. Est et aliud non modicum malum, quod videtur intendere, videlicet vestram mentem in quamdam securitatem ponere, quod sitis in gratia Dei, et opera vestra Deo sint accepta, ut sic aut minus soliciti sitis de salute, aut quodam indiscrete zelo in subditos acrius deseviatis, aut eciam aliquam superbie maculam contrahatis. Quantum malum sit inepta securitas ac indiscreti zeli severitas, figura et scriptura posset probari, quod tamen brevitatis gracia transeo. Quod 44 Schrijten Johanns von Neumarkt. ^weiter Teil: Hieronymus. Ubersetzung der unechten Briefe des Eusebius, Augustin und Cyrill zum Lobe des Heiligen, hg. J. Klapper (Berlin 1932), S. 351-356 (Cyrillusbrief, Cap. 26sq.) iiber die Diffamierung des Erzbischofs Silvanus, in dessen Gestalt der Teufel eine Frau zu verfiihren suchte.

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autem bonum commune sequi ex ilia revelacione possit, quod sine ea non fieret (A: 127V), fateor, meum plane subterfugit intellectum. Et ex hiis causis est michi visio omnino suspecta, quamvis in ea finis non omnino taceatur, scilicet quod fiet ilia revelacio in adiutorium omnibus huiusmodi visitatis revelacionibus et hoc, quando ista revelacio lucide et clare aperiatur. Expectetur ergo humiliter tempus huiusmodi apparicionis et nichil interim incaute secundum earn fiat vel dimittatur. Quare, dulcissime pater, ego inter filios vestros minimus humiliter et sincere et filiali amore admoneo vestram sinceritatem profunda humilitate ad piissimum protectorem cum affectuosis precibus recurrere, ut in hiis et in aliis vos ad viam veritatis et salutis dirigat et ab omni malo custodiat firmiter et veraciter in vere humilitatis spiritu estimantes vitam vestram ac merita tanto ac tali testimonio desuper misso esse imparia. Et sic humilitatis amator et doctor dominus noster Ihesus Christus vos humilem respiciet et lumen veritatis ostendet. In hiis autem omnibus vestra caritas adhuc inconsiliata remanet, cuius spiritus sit ilia revelacio. Ut ergo aliquali manuductione divina largiente gratia (B: 156V) ad aliquam huius visionis, cuius spiritus sit, cerciorem possit deveniri congnicionem, est diligentissime huius puelle, cui visio apparet, status et habitude ante visionem, in ipsa actuali visione et post visionem explorandus. Ante siquidem visionem: Nam si immediate ante visionem ac revelacionem est secrete in aliquo spiritual! exercicio constituta, in quo mens eius divini amoris igne inflammata vehementer sursum per ardens desiderium vehitur cupiens uniri ei, quern ardentissime amat, nichil aliud cogitans nee de visione, nee de aliquo creato, et sic in illo amoris ardore visio ilia manifestatur, signum valde efficax est et probabile, quod visio sit bona et celestis a patre luminum missa. Nam divine allocucionis potissima causa est caritas. Inter illos enim homines, inter quos est perfecta dilectio, amicicia seu caritas, crebro fit mutue dilectionis intimacio et secretorum manifestacio ad imperfeccioris melioracionem et consolacionem. Et hec intimacio fit quandoque per presencialem eorum allocucionem, quandoque vero per litterarum vel nunciorum missionem. Simile itaque videtur operari perfecta caritas inter Deum et hominem, quia ipse est, qui diligentes se perfeccius diligit. Talis enim caritas tantum appropinquare contendit amato et esse cum eo tam prope, ut, si fieri possit, hoc ipsum sit quod ipse. Unde secundum Augustinum in libro confessionum: Caritas (A: 128r) sive amor est pondus inclinans amantem ad amatum et appropinquare facit amato

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quantum potest.45 Item secundum Dyonisium Transformat suo modo amantem in amatum.46 Quanto autem propinquius est amans amato, tanto verius, subtilius et perfeccius sibi revelatur amatum. Unde eciam Hugo super septimo in Hierarchiam47 Constat, qui ardencius diligunt, profundius prospiciunt et subtilius decernunt, et quid e vicino magis respiciunt, procul dubio evidencius cognoscunt. Igitur rectissime quanta eterna magis amantur, tanto perfeccius cognoscuntur. Ex magnitudine enim divine dilectionis pendet modus divine revelacionis. Hec ille. Sic per oppositum: Si puella ilia immediate ante visionem esset vaga vel tepida ac solummodo huius visionis sive apparicionis cupida, quia delectabilis, verum et probabile signum est, quod visio est suspecta, ut potest ex precedentibus probari, quia, qui talem cupit, inflatus est, credens se ydoneum ad eas et ideo ab auctore vanitatis et superbie seducitur. Dixi eciam quod considerandus est status puelle sive habitudo in ipsa actuali apparicione. Nam si in principio apparicionis ipsa magno quodam terrore concutitur et ipsa ymagine postea loquente mens ipsius tranquillatur et letificatur, signum notabile est et certum, quod apparicio est bona. Hoc posset multis exemplis in veteri et novo testamento probari. Legat quis librum ludicum: quociens inveniet angelos apparuisse, tociens inveniet homines, quibus apparuerunt, in principio exterritos fuisse. Item Luce primo de Zacharia, item de gloriosa virgine Maria, item Daniel pluries legitur vidisse Gabrielem archangelum, ut patet Danielis octavo et nono. Et prima vice, quando vidit eum, ait: Ego Daniel langui et egrotavi per dies.48 Secunda vero vice ait Ego solus vidi visionem grandem et non remansit in me fortitudo et emarcui et spes mea inmutata est.49 Tercia vice dixit Domine, in visione tua dissolute sunt compages (B: 157r) mee et nichil remansit in me virium.M Et hoc frequenter inveniet in prophetis, quod corruerunt in facies suas. Item

40

T. Hohmann, Heinrichs von Langenstein 'Unterscheidung der Geister'. Lateinisch und deutsch (Miinchen 1977), Kap. 9, S. 100. Hohmann verweist in den Erlauterungen (S. 131) auf Confessiones 13, 9 (CSEL 33, S. 251: 24), das nur einen schwachen Anklang an den Wortlaut bietet. 46 Dieser Passus wird an der gleichen Stelle von Heinrich von Langenstein zitiert; vgl. De divinis nominibus in Dionysiaca I (1937), S. 215. 4/ Auch diesen Passus hat der Autor der Epistula bei Heinrich von Langenstein im gleichen Kontext vorgefunden. Es handelt sich um Hugo von St. Viktor, Commentum in hierarchiam caelestem, PL 175, 1038sq. (nur schwache Anklange); vgl. Anm. 45, S. 100. 48 Dan 8, 27. 49 Dan 10, 8. 50 Dan 10, 16.

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Johannes in Apocalypsi cecidit ad pedes?1 quern vidit et cetera, Nee moveat aliquem, quod ista visio non est angelica sive angeli, sed hominis, quia inter spiritum beaturn humanum et angelicum, quo ad hoc, non est differencia, cum uterque sit virtutis celestis virtutis. Racio autem huius timoris potest duplex assignari: Primo racione apparicionis ipsius celestis virtutis, nam apparicio cuiuslibet spiritualis nature celestis, ut dicit Augustinus de Anchona in tractatu (A: 128v)suo super Missus est Ad hoc Jit, ut mens illius, cui apparicio jit, ad aliquid spirituale misterium et archanum sive secretum elevetur.52 Sed mens hominis elevari non potest supra se, nisi viribus sensitivis quodammodo insensibilibus factis et in seipsis debilitatis, quia ex forti attencione et elevacione impeditur sensus operacio, sicut videmus, quia, cum quis fortiter speculatur aliquam rem, non percipit transeuntem iuxta se. Hoc autem non potest fieri sine timore, quia sicut videmus, quod calore naturali ad interiora revocato ex frigore membra exteriora tremunt, sic mente hominis ex spiritualis nature visione elevata necessario virtutes sensitive infirmantur. Unde Ambrosius super Lucam dicit Perturbamur et a nostro alienamur affectu, quando restringimur alicuius potestatis occursu.^ Secundo fit ex hominis condicione. Nam, sicut dixit Gregorius, humana natura, que spiritus sunt, capere non valet.3* Propter quod, cum ultra se ad videndum ducitur, necesse est, ut hoc carneum vasculum, quod ferre talenti pondus non valet, infirmetur. Item Chrisostomus super illud Luce primo (Luc 1, 12) ^acharias turbatus est videns angelum et timor irruit super eum55 ait in tantum, quod non potest homo, quantumcumque iustus sit, absque timore cernere angelum, nee eius presencie aspectum sine timore tolerare, quia fulgorem eius non valet sufferre sine turbacione, cum quo semper est conswetus apparere. Si vero ymago ista primo blanda ac dulcis apparet et in fine terrorem incutit, signum est verissimum, quod apparicio est deceptoria et dyaboli instinctu operatur. Unde de hiis duabus dicit Heinricus de Hassia in quodam de discrecione spirituum Ex modo aggressionis prime cognoscitur, cuius sit spiritus revelacio, si

51

Apoc 1, 17; 19, 10. Zu Augustinus von Ancona vgl. A. Zumkeller, Manuskripte von Werken der Autoren des Augustiner-Eremitenordens in mitteleuropaischen Bibliotheken (Wiirzburg 1966), S. 67ff. Auf S. 74ff. sind die Handschriften des Traktats super 'Missus est' aufgelistet. In Freiburg war mir keiner der fiinf Friihdrucke zuganglich. ' 5 Zitat nicht ermittelt. 54 Gregorius, Homeliae in Evangelia 25, 6, 19: PL 76, 1193 C. 33 Zitat nicht ermittelt. 02

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videlicet blanda vel turbans fuerit aggressio. Unde turbata est mater Domini in apparicione angeli, Eva vero statim complacenciam habuit in verbis serpentis.56 Hec ille. Unde dicitur in tractatu quodam de quattuor instinctibus, qui ascribitur beato Augustino,57 quod hoc est proprium dyaboli malicie, quod sub specie falsi gaudii et delectacionis transitorie infigat homini aculeum peccati et venenum malicie. Sed est hie advertenda duplex discrecio de apparicione boni angeli. Nam quando bonus angelus apparet, vel apparet bonis ad gaudium et alicuius secreti revelacionem seu defensionis (A: 129r) proteccionem, aut apparet malis ad eorum terrorem et exterminium vel correpcionem. Si ergo apparet bonis ad gaudium et eorum proteccionem, tune est verum, quod quamvis in principio incuciat timorem ex modo apparendi, tamen statim infert securitatem, quia ad hoc apparet, ut gaudium nuncciet, non terrorem, ut protegat, non ut occidat. Sed si apparet malis ad correccionem vel terrorem aut exterminium, tune in timore (B: 157V), quern incutit, perseverat, ut patet Mattheo ultimo Pre timore autem angeli exterriti sunt custodes etfacti sunt velut mortui (Mt 28, 4). Unde dicit Rabanus,58 quod custodes Christi non pietatis obsequio sed crudelitatis studio facti sunt velut mortui. Sed mulieribus pie querentibus dictum est: Nolite timere vos, ac si diceret, illi soli timeant, in quibus perseverat infidelitas et amoris divini frigiditas.39 Hec ille. Dixi tercio, quod considerandus est status puelle post discessum visionis. Nam si in divino amore fervencius inflammatur, si in vera humilitate perfeccius solidatur, si exemplis Christi efficacius conformatur, scilicet in manswetudine, paciencia, concordia, mititate, misericordia et proximorum vera compassione, signum est, quod visio fuit sancta et verax. Unde dicit beatus Augustinus in epistula ad beatum Cirillum episcopum de morte gloriosi leronimi, quod post visionem, qua vidit in sompnis beatum Johannem baptistam et gloriosum leronimum, expergefactus itaque tantos in me subito sensi caritatis ardores, quantos in me umquam senseram. Nam deinceps sic accensus numquam aliqualis in me vel invidie vel superbie sive arrogancie fuit appetitus. Testis est enim michi Deus, qui omnia, antequam jiant, novit, quod exinde tantus in me extitit caritatis fervor, quod plus 56

Heinrich von Langenstein, wie Anm. 45, S. 66. R.. Warnock u. A. Zumkeller, Der Traktat Heinrichs von Friemar iiber die Unterscheidung der Geister. Lateinisch-mittelhochdeutsche Textausgabe mit Untersuchungen (Wiirzburg 1977), S. 174ff. (De instinctu diabolicd). Dieser Traktat ist im Mittelalter mehrfach Augustinus zugeschrieben worden. 58 Zitat nicht ermittelt. 59 Vgl. Heinrich von Friemar, ed. cit., S. 166. 57

AMOR TRANSFORMA T AMANTEM IN AMA TUM

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alieno bono gaudeo, quam meo, plus qffecto omnibus subesse quam superesse. Hec idcirco dixerim, non ut laudis acquiram famam, sed ut hec quis non vana putet fuisse sompnia.60 Hec ille. Ista possent scripturis probari pluribus, quas propter prolixitatem dimitto. Nam non esset minim, si hec visio verax esset, quod anima eius tota liquefieret in divino amore et a se alienata subito in Deum raperetur propter ilia profundissime et abyssalis caritatis verba, quibus salutata est et deinceps tota melliflua fieret ad omnes secum commorantes et earn videntes. Si autem post discessum visionis manet tepida stimulis elacionis iudicii aliorum ac presumpcionis (A: 129V) et eciam proprie voluntatis inobediencia agitata, signum verissimum est spiritus maligni presenciam affuisse. Dignetur dulcissimus Dominus noster Ihesus Christus lumine sue sapiencie vestre sanctitatis cor illustrare, ut in hiis et omnibus viis vestris a vere iusticie tramite numquam possitis deviare et post huius vite terminum eterna gaudia possidere. Hec, amantissime pater, suscipiat sanctitas vestra benigno favore, magis attendentes affectum quam effectum. Quoniam cum gravi labore ac sollicitudine non habens requiem die ac nocte nee aliud nisi divine bonitatis sui subsidium, donee modicum quid in libris queritando inveni. Si vestre gracie est consolatorium, de Dei munere est; si nichil consolacionis aflfert, mee cecitatis et ignoracie culpa est. Scripsissem, si tempus admisisset, ad missam materiam illam secundario meliori littera, sed tempus non paciebatur. Habeat gracia vestra pacienciam, quoniam, sicut collegi, sic hue signavi, nee curavi regulas grammaticales ac rethoricorum flores inserere, sed solum paterne suavitati vestre humiliter comparere. Demum commendo me, quantum licet peccatori, vestris sanctis precibus. Similiter et omnes patres meos, denique me ipsum ad omnia offero vestre paternitatis beneplacito. Amen. (Explicit 1467 / 3 kal februaris add. A)

Klapper, op. cit., S. 281sq. (Augustinusbrief Cap. 19).

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ILLUSTRATED MANUSCRIPTS OF PETRARCH'S DE REMEDIIS UTRIUSQUE FORTUNAE

J. B. Trapp De remediis utriusque fortunae was the Latin work of Petrarch's maturity that contributed most to his European reputation in the century or so after it was written. The last to be begun of his major compositions—in Milan, at latest before the end of May 1353, when he was nearing fifty years of age—it is also one of the few to have been completed, a dozen years later, in Pavia. It was dedicated in a prefatory letter to Azzo da Correggio, sometime lord of Parma and Petrarch's friend and patron. As the nearest Petrarch came to a systematic and coherent statement of his philosophic position, it is the peak of his achievement as a moralist.1 De remediis comprises two books, each with a prologue. In its two hundred and fifty-three dialogues, Petrarch provides himself with equanimity in the face of the hopes and joys, sorrows and fears to which his divided nature makes him prey, in common with the rest of humanity. The dialogues of the first book discourage pride: Gaudium or Spes advances a reason for present or anticipated pleasure, and Ratio cuts each down, showing, with examples, that all mundane happiness is in Fortune's gift, unreal and disappointing, not to be compared with enduring and faithful Christian felicity. The second book advocates acceptance of adversity: Ratio counters each retailing by Dolor and Metus of their experience or apprehension of misery 1 N. Mann, Petrarch (Oxford 1984), p. 76. There is no modern critical edition of the Latin text, for which see Petrarch, Opera latina (2 vols., Basel 1581), I, pp. 1~254; sel., with Italian translation, in Francesco Petrarca, Prose ed. G. Martellotti et al. (Milan-Naples 1955), pp. 606-45; cf. 'Nota critica', ibid., pp. 1169-71; and, for manuscripts, N. Mann, 'Manuscripts of Petrarch's De remediis: A Checklist', Italia medioevale e umanistica XIV (1971), 57-90 (referred to below as Mann, 'Checklist'); and Codici latini del Petrarca nelle biblioteche farentini, ed. M. Feo (Florence 1991) nos. 62, 167-85 (referred to below as Feo, Codici latini). See also Petrarch's Remedies for Fortune Fair and Foul. A modem English Translation of De remediis utriusque fortunae, with a Commentary by C. Rawski (5 vols., Bloomington-Indianapolis 1991); for early vernacular versions, see below. A systematic definition of Petrarch's moral stance in De remediis is attempted in K. Heitzmann, Fortuna und Virtus. Eine Studie z.u Petrarcas Lebensweisheit (Cologne 1958).

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with consolatory assertions that both mental and material ills are likewise fortuitous and illusory. Petrarch's demonstration of these ethical truisms is most obviously a Christianization of the Stoicism of Seneca's De remediis fortuitorum. If it lacks the poignancy which the manner of Seneca's death confers on the ancient work, it falls not far short of it in Latin eloquence. On the other hand, neither Seneca nor Petrarch approaches Boethius in the subtlety of conception, the refinement of sentiment, the philosophical penetration, the beauty of language or the sadness of situation that characterize the De consolatione philosophiae. Nevertheless, more manuscripts of De remediis were written and more editions printed, in the original and in translation, than of any other of Petrarch's Latin works. At least 150 codices of the whole, almost a further 100 abridgements, excerpts and translations, besides some 70 which once existed, have been counted. Between 1474 and 1758 there were 33 printed editions of Petrarch's Latin entire, together with 20 partial and 45 vernacular printings.2 After the first quarter of the fifteenth century, it seems, De remediis was better known in Petrarch's native country through the Italian version by Giovanni da San Miniato, made about 1426, than in its original Latin.3 Of the fifteen manuscripts illuminated in Italy that I know, however, eleven—six of them earlier than about 1430—contain the Latin text. During the manuscript era, from the end of the fourteenth century to the beginning of the sixteenth, De remediis was popular in France, in Latin and in the vernacular; the advent of printing both increased that popularity and prolonged it into the seventeenth.4 The first translation into any modern vernacular was the French version completed in 1377 by Jean Daudin; another, anonymous, translation belongs to 1503. At least six Latin codices, five of Daudin's version and two of the anonymous translation are illuminated. Some manuscripts of Daudin, dating from the second half of the fifteenth century, have splendid large miniatures at the beginning of the Prologues. In the opening years of the sixteenth century, the same is true of one codex of the translation of 1503; the other was fully and royally illustrated. 2

Mann, 'Checklist'. For Italian versions, see R. Bessi, 'Note sul volgarizzamento del De remediis utriusque fortunae\ Quaderni Petrarcheschi 9-10 (1992-3 [1996]), 629-39. 4 For the influence of De remediis in France, see especially N. Mann, 'La fortune de Petrarque en France: recherches sur le De remediis', Studi Jrancesi 37 (1969), 1-15. 3

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Printed illustration is virtually confined to French and German vernacular versions. There are woodcuts in the editions of Daudin's translation printed at Paris in 1523 and 1534; and engraved tidepages in those of the seventeenth-century translation by Francois de Grenaille, sieur de Chatounieres. Woodcuts appear in various partial German versions from 1510 to 1536; there are over two hundred and fifty in each of the many printings of the whole by Steiner and his successors at Augsburg from 1532; engravings based on about half of these appeared in 1620.5 Since I have not found a manuscript of De remediis that was illuminated, still less illustrated, outside Italy and France, this essay confines itself to those countries. The adornment of the codices gives a sense of the value those who commissioned the work put upon the ideas and precepts offered by the book, as well as of their own status and resources. In a number of manuscripts of De remediis, illumination is minimal. Some confine themselves to rubrication to mark the beginning of text divisions and change of interlocutor from Joy, Hope, Sorrow or Fear to Reason. Most have some form of decoration for the initials of the two Prologues and the two Books, with the opening page of prologue and/or Book often surrounded by a border. In the early period few are illustrated and, even in the more opulent, the most frequent scheme of illumination consists of borders, with or without an author-'portrait' initial. All such likenesses in manuscripts of De remediis, with one possible exception, are conventional. In the Latin manuscripts illuminated in Italy, these likenesses are not laureate; in manuscripts of the Italian translation, executed later when the pseudoantique was more in fashion, they are. At the opening of French fifteenth-century manuscripts a conventional figure of the unlaureate author is often accompanied by the ultimately Boethian figure of blind and capricious Fortune, with her wheel.6 The ubiquity of this image, from the twelfth century to 5 The authoritative treatment remains (Victor Massena, prince) d'Essling & E. Miintz, Petrarque. Ses etudes d'art, son influence sur les artistes, ses portraits et ceux de Laure, rillustmtion de ses ecrits (Paris 1902), pp. 87-94; there is a quick guide in J. B. Trapp, 'The Iconography of Petrarch in the Age of Humanism', Quademi Petrarcheschi 9-10 (1992-93 [1996]), 68 70, pis. L-LI. Limited as I am in the number of reproductions I can give in the present publication, I both describe fully and give references, where possible, to published illustrations. 6 Boethius, De consolatione philosophiae, II. pr. 1-2, m. 1; see, still, H. R. Patch, The Goddess Fortune in mediaeval Literature (Cambridge, MA 1927).

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the time these Petrarchan manuscripts were made and beyond, especially in Transalpine regions, ensures that its presence in them is hardly unexpected.7 Its appearances in Italian manuscripts of De remediis, however, are late: I know of none in which goddess and wheel are shown together. 8 In illuminated fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century French codices of De remediis, fewer in number than contemporary illuminated manuscripts of Boethius and Boccaccio, Fortune and her wheel are often given specific reference to Petrarch's text.

Italy

Two thirds of the manuscripts that I know of De remediis in Latin or Italian which were illuminated in Italy, and all those executed after the second quarter of the fifteenth century, are Florentine, or probably so. Less than half of these Florentine productions embody the Latin text. As usual with Petrarch's works, the Latin in particular, parts of the country further to the north and east were first in the field. The earliest illuminated manuscript of the Latin text that can be precisely dated (St Petersburg, M. S. Saltykov-Scedrin Public Library, MS Lat. Fv. XV, no. 1) is written in a good Gothic hand.9 7 For a collection of later illustrations, many from manuscripts of Jean de Meun's Boethius or Laurent de Premierfait's translations of Boccaccio, De casibus virorum illustrium, see T. Kurose, Miniatures of the Goddess Fortune from mediaeval Manuscripts (Tokyo 1977). The illustrators of all three texts borrow from one another. 8 Below, pp. 226, 232. From what seem to be the earliest Italian illustrations of Fortune's wheel, which are, as it happens, Italian, the figure of Fortune herself is absent. These illustrations occur on the blank leaf preceding verses on the power of Fortune in an eleventh-century computistic miscellany, now MS Montecassino, Archivio dell'Abbazia 189, pp. 145-6; see E. Kitzinger, 'World Map and Fortune's Wheel', id., The Art of Byzantium and the medieval West, ed. W. Kleinbauer (Bloomington & London 1976), figs. 13-14; Virgilio e il chiostro. Manoscritti di autori classici e dvilta monastica, Catalogue of the exhibition, ed. M. DeH'Omo (Montecassino 1996), no. 21, ill. p. 140. In each drawing are shown the four figures, one mounted at the wheel's top, one descending with its turn, one falling from it, and one rising with it, which become canonical in the twelfth century, in their canonical positions on the wheel's rim, but only in one is the topmost figure crowned and he and his companions accompanied by the canonical legends Regno, Regnavi, Sum sine regno, Regnabo, for which see Walther, Initia, no. 7251; Proverbia, nos. 7035, 10344, 26475; cf. n. 48 below. 9 T. Voronova and A. Sterligov, Les manuscrits enlumines occidentaux du VHP au XVF siecle a la Bibliotheque nationale de Russie de Saint-Petersbourg (Bournemouth 1996), pp. 329-31; E. Bernadskaja, 'Manoscritti del Petrarca nelle biblioteche de Leningrado

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According to its colophon the transcription of this tall codex was completed by one Andrea, a priest, in Milan at the eighth hour of the night of Wednesday 8 January 1388. Its illumination is characteristically Milanese of the period. An acanthus border surrounds the opening page of each prologue and each book; at the opening of each book it also runs between the double columns of the text. To the border at the foot of the opening page of each prologue the stemma of the Ghislieri family of Bologna has later been added. In the initial for each prologue and each book is a conventional portrait of the author, robed and cowled but not laureate, with the ermine cape of the university doctor on his shoulders. At the beginning of each prologue 'Petrarch' wears a red robe; at the beginning of the first book a blue.10 At the opening of the first prologue he is half-length, both hands raised; at the opening of Book I he is en buste and pointing to the text of the open book he is holding; while at the beginning of the second prologue he is seated within an architectural framework and raising an admonitory right forefinger while his left hand is resting on the page of a book open on a lectern before him. Two other books, one open, one closed, lie nearby. Though the pose and the ambience of 'Petrarch' in this last initial are somewhat reminiscent of the perhaps authentic portrait of the Master in his study executed about the same time as this manuscript in the Sala virorum illustrium in Padua, the resemblance is too general and the formula of the writer at his work too widely diffused to posit direct dependence. Nor is there any reason to suppose that any of the other likenesses in this codex conforms to any authentic image of Petrarch. The same applies to another more or less contemporary North Italian example of the late fourteenth or very early fifteenth century.11 Formerly the property of the Dominicans of SS. Giovanni e Paolo in Venice, it is written double column in a pre-humanist hand, with good flower-and-foliage borders for the prologues to Books I and II, and a three-quarter-face, head-and-shoulders likeness of the (URSS)', Italia medioevale e umanistica 22 (1979), 547-60, no. 1; Mann, 'Checklist', no. 50. 10 Voronova and Sterligov illustrate only these three pages; presumably 'Petrarch' wears blue at the beginning of the second book. 11 MS Venice, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana lat. VI. 86 (= 2593), fol. l r ; Mann, 'Checklist', no. 131; ill. in M. Zorzi, Biblioteca Marciana, Venecia (Florence 1988), pi. XLVIII.

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author, again wearing the clerico-learned cappuccio and not laureate, in the initial for the prologue to Book I. 'Petrarch's' heavily-lined face here may be related to or even based on the face of the author in the initial of a late fourteenth-century Lombard manuscript, illuminated in the French style then current in that region, of Petrarch's Rerum memorandarum libri.12 This in turn, believed by Essling and Miintz to be a representation of Petrarch himself and sometimes reproduced as such, is a conventional likeness.13 Another Latin manuscript of De remediis is Lombard, of about the same date as the Marciana codex.14 The initial for the Prologue to Book I has a head-and-shoulders, three-quarter-face, non-laureate author likeness sifhilar in style and colouring to the Marciana images, though the lines round the chin have been accentuated into a beard. The border is of a different type to that in the Marciana manuscript. It is alia francese, with twigs and tendrils heightened with gold, and a dog is chasing a hare across the lower margin, below the text and inside the border; for the Prologue to the second book there is another border and an initial with an ape and a dragon beneath. A contemporary manuscript is Lombard also, almost certainly from Milan and also illuminated in the French style. It too is large and written double column, its opening page adorned by a rather sketchy border of acorns and blue flowers along inner, upper and lower margins. The initial of the prologue to Book I has a conventional portrait of the author, seen fullface and seated on a green-draped chair. He wears a scarlet robe and cappuccio trimmed with white, and holds up his right hand while displaying with his left a book open on his knee. For the prologue of the second book there is a conventional bust of the author, in scarlet, three-quarter-face, the index finger of his right hand placed on the thumb of his left.15 12

MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale lat. 6069T, fol. l r ; E. Pellegrin, Manuscrits de Petrarque dans les bibliotheques de France (Padua 1966), pp. 37-38 (1.377—8) (Censimento dei codici petrarcheschi I; referred to below as Pellegrin, France); Dix sleeks d'enluminure italimne VIe XVT siecles., catalogue of the exhibition at the Bibliotheque Nationale, ed. F. Avril (Paris 1984), no. 88. With this illumination should be compared that of a manuscript in Latin of De remediis from the end of the fourteenth century, now MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale lat. 6496, fols 3r, l l l r ; Pellegrin, France, 42 (1.382); Mann, 'Checklist', no. 89, and another, now MS Milan, Biblioteca Nazionale Braidense, AD XIII 30, for which see below, p. 224. 13 Essling & Miintz, pp. 67-68, 70. 14 MS Florence, Biblioteca Medicea-Laurenziana Strozzi 90, fols. 3r, 76r; Feo, Codici latini, no. 172; pi. II; Mann 'Checklist', no. 33. 15 MS London, British Library Harl. 3579, fols. Ir, LXXXIIF; N. Mann, Petrarch

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Another codex is probably Florentine. Written in a proto-humanist hand perhaps about 1430, it has a profile, cappuccio'd, non-laureate head-and-shoulders of another type, which may indicate the currency of an image of Petrarch related to that by Altichiero in a famous manuscript of De viris illustribus (MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale, lat. 6069F), in the initial of the Prologue to Book I.16 The border bears the stemma of the Gaddi; its early, perhaps its first, owner was Angelo di Zenobi Gaddi, prior of Florence in 1437, 1442 and 1451. Book II also has an initial and border. An opening conventional likeness of another kind is also probably Florentine. This is unrelated to any other: a full-length figure standing on a sort of grassy island of rock, and labelled 'franciscus petrarcha' in a humanist hand. 'Petrarch' is not laureate and wears a long pink robe and cappuccio. In his left hand he holds out a book bound in green, its red clasps closed. His right hand is raised, forefinger extended. This likeness occupies the whole of the verso following Pierpaolo Vergerio's Life of the Master, which precedes De remediis in a manuscript probably written to order.17 It is an assertion, stronger and more striking than those we have so far been considering, of Petrarch's moral right, as the modern publishing phrase has it, to be regarded as the author of the ensuing work. Vergerio's Life is written in a humanistic hand, but the hand of De remediis is a gothic rotunda. There are two Florentine-style vine-stem initials. The date 1432 at the manuscript's end (fol. 262V) is said not to be in the hand of the scribe. The codex may have been commissioned by its first recorded owner Nicholas Bildestone, orator to the Roman Curia in 1424-5 and again in 1434, and Dean of Salisbury from 1435 to his death in 1441. Bildestone had become a friend of Poggio Bracciolini's during Poggio's stay in England from about 1418 to 1422. In November 1425 Poggio wrote to Niccolo Niccoli asking

Manuscripts in the British Isles, Padua 1973, no. 116 (Censimento del codici petrarcheschi VII; referred to below as Mann, British Isles); Mann, 'Checklist', no. 55. 16 MS Florence, Biblioteca Medicea-Laurenziana XXVI sin. 5, fols. l r , 116r; Feo, Codici latini, no. 167, pi. Ill; Mann, 'Checklist', no. 27. With this compare the image in MS Paris, BNF lat. 6069F, fol. Av; Pellegrin, France, pp. 33-34 (1.373-4); Trapp, 'The Iconography', 15, literature there cited, and pi. I. 17 MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale lat. 10209, fol. 5V; Pellegrin, France, pp. 65-66 (1.405-6), pi. XIII; Mann, 'Checklist', no. 96; A. de la Mare and R. Hunt, Duke Humfrey and English Humanism in the Fifteenth Century. Catalogue of an Exhibition held in the Bodleian Library, Oxford (Oxford 1970), no. 15; A. Sammut, Unfredo duca di Gloucester e gli umanisti italiani (Padua 1980), pp. 119-20.

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Niccoli to help Bildestone acquire manuscripts of Petrarch. Bildestone gave this manuscript to Humfrey, Duke of Gloucester, enemy of his and Poggio's patron, Cardinal Beaufort. Humfrey noted the gift in the codex itself, adding his own customary ownership inscription; he also annotated the text. Later, the manuscript belonged to Fausto Andrelini of Forli, one of the many poets laureate of post-Petrarchan times, who was in Paris from 1488 until his death in 1518. From him it passed to the French royal collection. The first Italian artists to have attempted to illustrate the content of De remediis belong to a time something like a quarter of a century earlier, and to Lombardy. Their work adorns a tall and prepossessing manuscript now in Milan, written about 1400 by two different pre-humanist hands, double column. Only the the first book is on vellum, and illuminated by two different hands; the second is on paper and merely rubricated. The illumination has recently been associated with the workshop of Pietro da Pavia.18 The opening page of the first prologue is surrounded with a full foliage border, and decoration extends down the page between the two columns; in the acanthus decoration at the foot of the page is a couched fawn, while in the upper margin a friar is seated at a portative organ. Across both columns of text at the top of the page is a miniature of the author, full-face and full-length, dressed in brown clerical robe and hood, and seated in an elaborate gothic arched cathedra. He holds a pen in his right hand while with his left he holds upright and open on his knee a book on whose pages can be seen the incipit of the prologue itself: 'Cum res fortunasque . . .'. To either side of him are brightly-dressed representatives of the various orders of society subject to Fortune, arranged in ascending order of dignity: from the right a ragged shepherd with his sheep and leaning on a stick; a blonde woman in a long red decolletee dress; a young gentleman with falcon and hounds; a soldier with a crossbow; a crowned king, in a red, ermine-trimmed robe, holding orb and sceptre; from the left a jester with a monkey on his shoulder, a red-beaked black bird under his arm and a cage of other birds on the ground at his feet; a minstrel playing a lute; a merchant indicating an open chest of money;

18

MS Milan, Biblioteca Nazionale Braidense AD XIII 30, fols. V and 3V; M. Bollati in M. Boskovits, Miniature a Brera 1100-1422. Manoscritti dalla Biblioteca Nazionale Braidense e da collezioni private (Milan 1997), pp. 230-33, no. 38; Mann, 'Checklist', no. 61; cf. MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale lat. 6069T, for which see p. 222, n. 12 above.

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a doctor of laws; and a pope wearing the tiara and holding a crozier. Below, in the initial C, is the author, again robed and cowled and again seated, but this time on a bench, displaying his open book with 'Cum res fortunasque . . .' clearly visible, to a bearded, longrobed figure seated beside him and laying his right hand on the open page. At the opening of Book I proper, the initial E of 'Etas' shows a young man, Etas florida himself—boastful complainer in the first dialogue—standing before a seated woman. She, with her radiate crown, orb and sceptre, is clearly Ratio, about to bring the young man down to earth. Another North Italian codex, perhaps Ferrarese, written doublecolumn in a good gothic script at about the same time embodies others of Petrarch's moral-philosophical works.19 Its illustrator is a more mediocre artist than either of the two we have just been dealing with, but he too, after his fashion, has tried to illustrate rather than merely adorn Petrarch's book, and he uses comparable, if less elaborate formulae. His initial for the dedicatory letter-prologue shows a figure in his cathedra, pointing to a kneeling figure who is holding a book. It seems likely that the figure in the seat of authority, rather than the kneeling one, is intended for Petrarch. Below is another scene showing a book being presented, as to a patron. Part of the initial for Book I proper has been cut away. What remains illustrates, as before, the opening of its first dialogue, De aetate florida: a rider with a hawk on his wrist—Youth among the Ages of Man, May in calendar illustration. In the initial for the Prologue to Book II, 'Petrarch' is seated writing in a landscape, the actual opening words of the prologue visible on the parchment before him: 'Ex omnibus que vel mihi lecta'. Behind and above are sun and moon. Adverse fortune, the subject of this Book, is represented by a wind blowing a ship to wreck at the right. There are marginal reader's notes and a few strange, sketched figures, perhaps the work of Giannozzo (d. 1459) or Angelo di Giannozzo (d. 1497) Manetti, later owners in Florence. The first Italian manuscript of the Latin text known to me in which the illuminator makes use of the figure of Fortuna is both

19 MS Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana Pal. lat. 1596, fols. l r , 3r, 71 r ; M. Vattasso, / codici petrarcheschi della Biblioteca Vaticana (Citta del Vaticano 1909), no. 90 (referred to below as Vattasso); Mann, 'Checklist', no. 128; cf. Trapp (n. 21 below), p. 45, fig. 3.

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modest in quality and surprisingly late.20 Written for an unidentified patron in 1454, this paper manuscript contains excerpts from De remediis, the extracts from Book II being placed first, followed by the whole of De vita solitaria. The script is upright humanist, possibly Florentine. In the outer arm of the vine-stem border is a laureate profile head of a young man, perhaps a mere factotum, perhaps intended for Petrarch, or even for a personification of Aetas florida. In the initial stands a full-length, frontal figure of Fortuna. She has no wheel and has been adapted to the Petrarchan text, in which the wheel is not prominent, by the words fortuna above her head and prospera and adversa to either side below her feet. Dressed in a long robe which is coloured half red and half dark brown, she holds in her right hand, on the red side, a scroll labelled gaudo [sic]; and in her left another, labelled doleo. The two finest among Italian manuscripts of De remediis were written and illustrated in Florence during the second half of the fifteenth century, at a time when condottieri, patricians and prelates were assembling their libraries. Each is part of a superb and stately set, neither of which is complete, as far as can be judged by survival. Each set comprises tall, spectacular volumes, written on parchment of the first quality by identifiable scribes, in lines of clear and handsome script extending across the entire page in the humanist manner. They were richly illuminated by identifiable artists, or at least in identifiable workshops. One set was put together by the great Florentine bookseller Vespasiano da Bisticci, for Federico da Montefeltro, duke of Urbino, probably from the very late 1460s to the 1470s.21 The other, like the Urbino set the work of more than one scribe and more than one illuminator, was made, probably for more than one member of

20 MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale lat. 6725, fol. l r ; Pellegrin, France, pp. 49-50, (I. 389-90); Mann, 'Checklist', no. 186. 21 MSS Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana Urb. lat. 330-34, 370; Vattasso, nos. 95100; C. Stornajolo, Codices Urbinates latini (3 vols., Vatican City 1902), I, pp. 296305, 353-4; A. de la Mare, 'New Research on humanistic Scribes in Florence', in Miniaturafiorentina delprimo Rinascimento, 1440-1525. Un primo censimento ed. A. Garzelli (Florence 1985), pp. 432, 461-2, 506, 537, 597-8 (referred to below as de la Mare, 'New Research'); A. Garzelli, 'Le immagini, gli autori, i destinatari', ibid., p. 174, fig. 568 (referred to below as Garzelli); cf. J. Trapp, 'The Illustration of Petrarch's Secretum', Ut granum sinapis. Essays on Neo-Latin Literature in Honour ofjozef Ijsewijn, ed. G. Tournoy & D. Sacre (Louvain 1997), pp. 39-44, figs. 1~2.

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the Medici family, perhaps twenty years later, in the 1480s and 1490s.22 When these monumental sets were made, the Latin De remediis had gone somewhat out of fashion in Italy. The illumination of each set typifies successive phases within the style of decoration in Florentine manuscripts. These are full of the stemme and devices of Federico and of the Medici respectively.23 The works of Petrarch of which manuscripts survive from the Urbino library are chiefly Latin, though there is also extant a magnificent illustrated codex of the* Canzoniere and Trionfi.24 This was written by Matteo Contugi da Volterra; its illumination, recently attributed to Bartolomeo della Gatta, must date—at least partially— from 1474 or later; its unfinished state may indicate that it was incomplete at Federico's death in 1482.23 The six resplendent volumes of transcripts of the Latin works probably belong to a little earlier. Vespasiano, their supplier, gave up his shop in 1478, though he may well have continued to meet Federico's needs until Federico died.26 The surviving Urbino Latin Petrarchs were written by two scribes whose activities, taken together, have been documented in Florence from the 1450s to the early 1480s. Each writes an elegant upright humanist hand. The more accomplished, 'H C F' as he signed himself, was responsible for two books. 'Hugo Nicolai de 22 MSS Florence, Biblioteca Medicea-Laurenziana LIII.4, LXXVIII.1-4; Feo, Codin latim nos. 81, 168, 224, 227, 250, pis. XII, XX; de la Mare, 'New Research', pp. 541-2 (Cat. no. 74); Garzelli, pp. 337-46, figs. 1089, 1091; A. Bussi and A. Fantoni, 'La biblioteca Medicea-Laurenziana negli ultimi anni del '400', in All'ombra del lauro. Documenti librari della cultura in eta Laurenziana, catalogue of the exhibition in the Biblioteca Medicea-Laurenziana, ed. A. Lenzuni (Florence 1992), pp. 142 3; A. Bussi, 'Aspetti della miniatura ai tempi di Lorenzo il Magnifico', ibid, pp. 156 8. 23 For Federico's devices, see F. Lombardi, 'I simboli di Federico di Montefeltro', in Piero e Urbino, Piero e le corti rinascimentali, ed. P. Dal Poggetto (Venice 1992), pp. 135-41 (I owe the reference to Cecil H. Clough); and for the Medici, F. AmesLewis, 'Early Medici Devices', Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 42 (1979), 122—43; All'ombra del lauro, pp. 140-7; E. Schwarzenberg, 'Glovis: impresa di Giuliano de' Medici', Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz 39 (1995), 157-60. 24 MS Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional Vit. 22-1; M. Villar, Codices petrarquescos en Espana (Padua 1995), no. 80 (Censimento dei codici petrarcheschi XI; referred to below as Villar, Espana). 25 The Painted Page: Italian Renaissance Book Illumination 1450-1550, catalogue of the exhibition in London & New York 1994-5, ed. J. Alexander (London-New York 1994), no. 60. 26 For Vespasiano, see de la Mare, 'New Research', pp. 572~3; for Federico's library, ibid., pp. 449-51, 594.

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Comminellis (de Maceriis super Mosam) in Francia', Hugues de Comminellis of Mezieres, was at the University of Paris in 1454—5 and active in Florence from 1469 to 1478 and probably until at least 1482. Some dozen manuscripts written by him are known, six of them signed, the most important being the famous Urbino Bible.27 The other scribe, 'Sinibaldus C', wrote four volumes of the Urbino Petrarch; he was active in Florence from about 1450 to 1481. Some 40 volumes have been identified as his work, among them the Urbino De remediis.28 Fine as the Urbino Latin Petrarchs are, they are chaste as compared with the Urbino Dante, let alone the Bible, or indeed the Canzoniere and Triorifi in Madrid. The De remediis, though less fully illuminated than the Seniles, most elaborate of the set, is handsome enough.29 As usual in the Urbino set, its opening verso is laid out alia fiorentina, as a sort of title-page. On it an elegant bay-wreath, enshrined in flowers and foliage, with the stemma minore of the Duke of Urbino below it, encircles the title, which is written in gold Roman capitals. The first recto has a fine flower and foliate border inhabited by birds and putti, with urns interspersed, on three sides. In the centre of its upper arm sit two winged, naked putti holding a gold roundel quartered with Federico's fiammelle and his monogram. At the lower left corner a naked putto stands with his hand on his head, acting as a sort of atlante for the urns above him, on a gold roundel in which an inverted fiammella flames red on a blue ground. In the middle are the quartered Montefeltro arms. At right, in a roundel, Federico's ostrich stands on green grass and holds a nail in its beak. A banderole describes the bird's fabulous digestive powers: ICAN VERDAIT El GROCISEN ('Ich kann verdauen ein grosses Eisen'). After a three-line incipit in gold capitals, the text proper of the first book's prologue opens with a large initial C in gold on a blue ground decorated with white filigree. Within it is a delicately executed landscape in which, in an enclosure, is Federico's ermellino, which prefers death to besmutchment. A banderole lettered NON MAI arches over its back. A smaller and less elaborate initial begins the text of Book 27

De la Mare, 'New Research', pp. 461-2, 506 (Cat. no. 33), 597. De la Mare, 'New Research', pp. 432, 537 (Cat. no. 68.26), 598. 29 MS Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana Urb. lat. 334, fols. l v , 2r: De remediis; Vattasso, no. 99; Mann, 'Checklist', no. 130; P. D'Ancona, La miniatura fiorentina (sec. XI—XVI) (Florence 1914), no. 1281; for the Seniles, see de la Mare, 'New Research', p. 537 (Cat. no. 68.25); Garzelli, p. 174, fig. 568. 28

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I: a small gold E with rubric above. The prologue to Book II also opens thus, and so does the text of that book. The interlocutors' names are rubricated. The five extant Medici volumes, larger and more richly illuminated than those of the Urbino set were made, besides later, perhaps over a longer period. As now constituted, the set lacks some Petrarchan texts present in the Urbino set, notably the Secretum, but includes some others by Cicero, Dante and Salutati which are not found there. Two volumes were written by the scribe of the Bodmer Cassiodorus, who transcribed texts owned by King Matthias Corvinus as well as by the Medici. He was active in Florence from before 1477, perhaps as early as 1472, until 1482; a dozen codices have been identified as his.30 The illumination of four Medici volumes has been ascribed to Boccardino il Vecchio (1460-1529), who is documented as working for Piero, son of Lorenzo de'Medici, il Magmfico.31 The Medici De remediis was written, almost certainly for Lorenzo, between 1480 and 1490 by a scribe whose hand, cursive rather than upright humanist, closely resembles that of the scribe of the Bodmer Cassiodorus.32 Its splendid illumination, ascribed both to Attavante degli Attavanti (1452^1520/5) and, more convincingly, to Littifredi Corbizzi (1465-1515 or later), teems with Medici emblems.33 The verso of the first folio—as in the Urbino volume—is a sort of titlepage, with the title in gold capitals on blue, surrounded by green bronconi with a gold inner edging, in a floral border. Eight gold rings with a diamond set in each are at top, bottom and sides. Each ring contains three feathers, held in a red band. Round three sides of the facing page, on which the Prologue to Book I begins, is a marvellous border, part floral, part arabesque, edged with gold. At the outer termination of its upper arm is a leaf-and-flower design; within the arm itself are seated, each on a golden cornucopia, an addorsed pair of naked, blue-winged putti, holding sprays of roses; near the extended foot of each putto is a small cameo ornamented with

30

De la Mare, 'New Research', pp. 541-2 (Cat. no. 74). Garzelli, pp. 341-46, figs. 1050-57, 1062-63, 1065, 1067-74; M. Levi d'Ancona, Miniatura e miniatori a Firenze dal XIV al XVI secolo. Documenti per la stona della miniatura (Florence 1972), pp. 149-54; but see A. C. de la Mare in 'Aggiunte e correzioni' to Feo, Codici latini, p. 4. 32 De la Mare, 'New Research', p. 475, n. 486. 33 For Attavante see Levi d'Ancona, pp. 254-9; Garzelli, pp. 219-46; for Corbizzi, Levi d'Ancona, pp. 167-9; Garzelli, pp. 337-9, figs. 1081 91. 31

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pearls.34 Between the putti, within a frame of bronconi, is a classicizing grisaille bust, in profile, of a laureate man in armour—perhaps a Medici and even the Medici who commissioned the manuscript. Down the inner arm of the border, made up of arms in trophies interspersed with foliage and pearls, and also terminating in a leafand-flower design, are three Medici devices: the fire of bronconi, the beehive and bees and, within a diamond ring adorned with feathers and wound about with a riband bearing the letters LAVR, the lauro with, across its trunk, a banderole lettered with the Medici motto SEMPER. Between these are cameos of a female figure, perhaps Faith, seated with hands raised and clasped in prayer and of another female figure, perhaps Wisdom, holding a serpent. The lower border is a composition of flowers and leaves. At its centre, each of two naked putti with multi-coloured wings stands facing the other on one of a pair of crossed green bronconi, held together at their crossing by a ribbon from which depends a three-pearled ornament. The putti hold a golden ring with a diamond at its top, containing a gold stemma on a blue ground: the six red Medici palle with, at their centre, the single blue one bearing the goldenfleur-de-lysaccorded to Piero di Cosimo in 1465 by Louis XL From the upper part of the stemma spring three feathers, blue, green and red. A banderole bearing the motto SEMPER shows to either side. There is a fourline incipit for the Prologue to Book I, in alternate lines of gold and blue capitals, after which comes a large and handsome gold initial C, flanked by gold acanthus arabesques on blue and blue on crimson, and filled with rosette decoration a tappeto on scarlet and gold. A smaller gold initial on a red, blue and gold ground begins the Prologue to Book II. As in the Urbino volume, the interlocutor's names are rubricated. The book retains its Medici binding, with chains. These two manuscripts are the most lavishly illuminated, as well as among the latest of Italian codices of the De remediis. Their sumptuousness is a memorial to the classic status that their author had achieved. Though both Petrarch's name and the title of his book are clearly stated at their beginning, in the artifact itself he and his

34 MS Florence, Biblioteca Medicea-Laurenziana LXXVIII.4, fol. 2r; Feo, Codici latini, no. 168, pi. XII; Garzelli, figs. 1089, 1091; Dillon Bussi and Fantoni, pp. 142^3, 156, 158; D'Ancona, Miniatura fiorentina, no. 1524; Mann, 'Checklist', no. 29.

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message have been subordinated to the glory of their commissioners. They bear no signs of having been read. All the illuminated manuscripts of Giovanni da San Miniato's Italian translation that I know are Florentine. One was signed by Piero di Domenico Boninsegni as he completed its copying, in littera antiqua, on 2 June 1462.35 It has good vine-stem borders, one of them incorporating the stemma of the Albizzi. Like some of the Latin manuscripts, it has no illustrations except, in its opening initial to the Prologue to Book I, a half-length, full-face, conventional rendering of the author, holding a book and wearing a red robe trimmed with ermine and a cap of the same surmounted by a laurea. Of a similar date and also Florentine is a rather larger codex, with a halflength laureate 'Petrarch' in the opening initial to the Prologue and a border with the stemma of the Portinari at the centre of its lower arm.36'Another, again Florentine and roughly contemporary, has illumination of a comparable kind and quality. The text is written in a good upright humanist hand across the entire page, and there is a flower-and-leaf border, with an obliterated stemma in its lower arm, on three sides of the opening page. In the initial is a conventional 'Petrarch' at half-length, laureate, dressed in red and mauve and holding a red book open as if to read it to us.37 Later, still apparently Florentine and made for Pope Leo X (1513-21), is a manuscript written in an agreeable humanist cursive, with pen-drawn illumination. It opens with an initial for the Prologue in which 'Petrarch' is represented, but the rest of its decoration refers—like that of the Latin manuscript in the Medici set—to the Medici and their city rather than to the author.38 Book I begins with an initial showing the Medici palle, the papal tiara and crossed keys, and a Florentine lion mask; the page is surrounded with an elaborate architectural frame with Medici diamond rings containing other Medici emblems distributed about it. In the plinth of the lower margin sits

35 MS Florence, Biblioteca Riccardiana pi. XVII; Mann, 'Checklist', no. 238. 36 MS Florence, Biblioteca Riccardiana Mann, 'Checklist', no. 237. 37 MS Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana A. R. Cipriani, Codici miniati deU'Ambrosiana. p. 152; Mann, 'Checklist', no. 241. 38 Above, pp. 229-30.

1021, fol. 4r; Feo, Codici latini, no. 176, 1020, f. l r ; Feo, Codici latini, no. 179; 138 inf., fols. l r ; cf. fols. 5r, 129V, 135V; Contributo a un catalogo (Vicenza 1968),

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Fortezza, wearing a Florentine hexagonal halo, mace and book in hand, branches of bay at her feet and a Florentine lion to one side, its paw holding a Medici diamond ring.39 The only Italian appearance of Fortune's wheel within the Petrarchan context I am considering is almost incidental to the sumptuous scheme of illumination on the opening page of a Florentine manuscript of the Italian translation. Written early in the third quarter of the fifteenth century by 'Sinibaldus C', this was richly illuminated by the Master of the Trivulziana Pharsalia for the great Spanish Petrarchist Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, marquess of Santillana (d. 1458), poet and owner of the finest library in Spain.40 A companion and even finer De viris illustribus was once owned by the marquess.41 His motto 'Dios et vos', helmet device, and stemma recur in the illumination of both. The initial of the prologue to Book I of De remediis contains a profile headand-shoulders of a young, bare-headed, blond, laureate 'Petrarch'— perhaps in aetate florida. The text is surrounded with an elaborate, inhabited vine-stem border which incorporates the Santillana emblems and more besides. Most significantly in the present context, at the mid-point of the outer arm, there is a medallion of a wheel mounted on a post, a king at its summit and a thrall falling off at its lowest point. It is not presided over by Fortuna.

France The Latin De remediis was already being read in France during the third quarter of the fourteenth century. Its first translation into any vernacular was probably part of the programme instigated by Charles V to make the collective wisdom of ancient tongues available in

39 MS Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale Pal. V. Capponi 31, fols. l r , 7 r ; Feo, Codici Mai, no. 180, pi. XXXV. 40 MS Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional Res. 212, fol. l r ; Villar, Espana, no. 78; Mann, 'Checklist', no. 240; de la Mare, 'New Research', p. 537 (Cat. no. 68.14); Garzelli, pp. 36~37; J. Dominguez Bordona, Manuscritos con pinturas. Notas para un inventario de los conservados en colecciones publicas y particulares de Espana (2 vols. Madrid 1933) I, p. 335, no. 856, pi. 283; A. Deyermond, The Petrarchan Sources of the Celestina (Oxford 1961), p. 134, no. 17. 41 MS Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional Res. 214, fol. l r ; Villar, Espana, no. 79; Garzelli, pp. 36-37, fig. 44.

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French, to which Nicole Oresme was so prominent a contributor.42 The translator of De remediis in 1377 was, however, not Oresme— as the cataloguers of illuminated manuscripts sometimes still believe— but Jean Daudin, canon of the Ste-Chapelle, whose version was used when the French De remediis was first printed, with woodcuts, at Paris in 1523 and reprinted in 1534. The anonymous translation of 1503 has never been printed. More than a dozen manuscripts of De remediis written and illuminated in France are extant, six in Latin, five of Daudin's translation and two of the later. In these, by contrast with the Italian, a conventional likeness of Petrarch alone is seldom used to introduce De remediis in either Latin or French. From the end of the fourteenth century to the end of the fifteenth, however, the illustrators frequently combine the traditional formula of the author in his cathedra with the image of Fortune, her wheel, and those who ride on or are thrown from it. Occasionally they relate the figure in the cathedra to Petrarch by crowning the cathedra with a laurea; in manuscripts of the Latin text they adapt Fortune's wheel specifically to Petrarch's book by replacing the legends Regno, Regnavi, Sum sine regno, Regnabo with the Petrarchan Spes, Gaudium, Metus and Dolor. The fifteenth-century illuminators, by and large, retain the accompanying figure of the author. In the illustrations of one of the early sixteenth-century manuscripts, 'Petrarch' is not represented at all; in the those of the other his presence is unseen, his part as suppliant being taken by Everyman, with Fortune and Reason the other prominent figures. An early testimony to French taste for Petrarch's moral philosophy is a double-column manuscript in a Gothic cursive hand, now in Douai, of which four pages have been given an ivy-leaf and tendril border.43 Transcription of this was completed on St Ambrose's day [7 December] 1391, according to its colophon, by Nicolaus Surdi (Le Sourd) of Langres, librarius to the University of Paris in 1394; its illumination, added to the order of Guillaume Chretien, abbot of Marchiennes from 1398 to 1412, was completed on 24 September 1399. 42 La librairie de Charles V, catalogue of the exhibition (Paris 1968), esp. nos. 198-206; C. Sherman, Imaging Representation in fourteenth-century France (Berkeley &c 1995), 43 MS Douai, Bibliotheque municipale 694, fols 3V, 6V, pp. 104-5 (II.282-3); Mann, 'Checklist', no. 18.

in the BNF, ed. F. Avril Aristotle. Verbal and visual esp. pp. 3-44. 77V, 81v; Pellegrin, France,

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Two other Latin examples in gothic script, from the turn of the fourteenth-fifteenth centuries, and rather more elaborately illuminated in the style characteristic of northern France and Paris, are related to each other iconographically. The scribe of one, which reached the Bibliotheque Mazarine from the convent of the Grands Augustins in Paris, may have been Johannes Robale.44 Its opening page has a full ivy-leaf-and-tendril border and, above the first column of the Prologue to Book I, a miniature showing a clerically clothed 'Petrarch', identified by the evergreen laurea on the canopy of the cathedra in which he is seated. A book lies open on a revolving lectern before him as if he were about to read a lecture. At right, her face bland and pale, her eyes not blindfold, Fortuna stands behind her wheel to turn it by its spokes. Enthroned at its top is a crowned and sceptred king labelled, not regno but—alia petrarchesca—gaudium; at left a figure clinging to the rim is rising towards felicity under the label spes\ below him a naked metus, his feet at the lowest point, is beginning his journey aloft; to the right dolor is well on his headlong descent. Below is a rubricated incipit and below that again a fine initial. Preceding the Prologue to Book II is a smaller miniature, again at single-column width, in which a woman in a long red robe and a blue-robed, black-capped man are conversing before the door of a double-towered building, with a face showing in the pavement at its foot. The other manuscript, a thick, large-octavo-sized volume, was once the property at Cambrai of Raoul Lepretre, archdeacon of Hainault, who died in 1443.45 Like the Mazarine codex it is written doublecolumn and its characteristically northern French-Parisian decorative scheme is less elaborate in that it lacks miniatures. Its single historiated initial shows a clerical 'Petrarch', again identified by the laurea which crowns the cathedra in which he is seated, pointing to the words 'Cum res fortunasque', the incipit of the prologue to Book I, which are almost as plainly visible on the pages of the book open on the lectern before him as they are on the text-page itself. As in the Mazarine miniature, Fortuna stands blandly unblindfold behind her wheel to turn it, and the figures on the wheel's rim are similar 44

MS Paris, Bibliotheque Mazarine 3882, fol. l r ; Pellegrin, France, pp. 22-23 (1.362-3); Mann, 'Checklist', no. 86. 45 MS Cambrai, Bibliotheque municipale B+239 (229), fols. 5r, 147r; Pellegrin, France, p. 101 (II. 279); Mann, 'Checklist', no. 12.

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in placement, attitude and drapery, except that gaudium has no sceptre and metus is fully clothed; they are also similarly labelled. This manuscript may have been intended as a preacher's aid. Not only are the initials of the successive dialogues rubricated and pen-flourished, the headings in red, and the numbers of the dialogues in red in the margins, but there is also a table of contents at the beginning and an alphabetical index, by topic, at the end. Sometimes, perhaps a little later, Fortuna herself takes centre stage. A Petrarchan Latin moral-philosophical miscellany, written in a regular French cursive hand, double column, at the beginning of the fifteenth century, opens with De remediis.46 It belonged in the sixteenth-seventeenth century to the College de Navarre. The first page has a fine full border and a pink initial C for the prologue to the first book. Above the initial is a miniature showing Fortuna standing, pink-robed and gold-crowned, pale of face and blindfold, grasping her wheel from behind. Gaudium, a red-and-blue robed, goldcrowned king, sceptre on his left shoulder, is enthroned at the top; spes is a red-robed young man; dolor, at the foot, under the wheel, a young, blue-robed man; metus a pink-robed, blue-hooded, bearded old man. In another Latin manuscript, written rather later in a rounded hand, the basic, generalized Regno formula is used. The prologue to Book I opens with a miniature at column width above a fine initial.47 Fortune sits in a cathedra, regal but uncrowned and not blindfold, turning her wheel with the aid of a crank-handle, so that the sceptred and crowned king and the others keep their accustomed positions.48

46 MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale lat. 17165, fols. l r , 43V; Pellegrin, France, pp. 77-78 (1.417-8); Mann, 'Checklist', no. 98. 47 MS Montpellier, Bibliotheque de la Faculte de Medecine H265, fol. l r ; Pellegrin, France, p. 112 (II. 290); Mann, 'Checklist', no. 65. 48 By this time Fortune turning her wheel with a crank-handle is commonplace. The two earliest examples known to me are: 1. A drawing added to a ninth- or tenth-century Spanish manuscript of Gregory the Great's Moralia in Job, which has the Regno formula: MS Manchester, John Rylands University Library lat. 83, fol. 214V; M. James, A descriptive Catalogue of the Latin Manuscripts in the John Rylands Library at Manchester (Manchester 1921), p. 152, pi. 110; and cf. 'Additional Notes' in reprint (Vaduz 1980), *27-*28; Kurose, Miniatures of the Goddess Fortune, pi. 93; 2. A miniature of the final quarter of the 12th century, without inscriptions: Herrad of Hohenbourg, Hortus deliciarum ed. R. Green et al. (2 vols., London 1979), Reconstruction, fol. 215r; Commentary, no. 295, p. 200.

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In France, though Fortune and her wheel are the most frequent illustrator's formula for De remediis, employed for the Latin text but also—as we shall see—in more elaborate and populous versions for the French, there is an early variant. This is of a type used elsewhere in contemporary French illumination, for example in manuscripts of the French translation of Bartholomaeus Anglicus. It comes in a double-column Latin manuscript, Parisian work of the final quarter of the fourteenth century, perhaps as early as 1380, and formerly belonging to the Celestines of Amiens. This begins each prologue with a small, column-width miniature, in which the author is explaining matters to a crowned king; for the first book they stand facing each other, for the second they are seated.49 It may be that in this case there is a particular reference: despite the length and whiteness of the king's beard, he may be intended for Charles V. During Petrarch's visit to Paris in 1361, he had delivered himself before that king of some of his thoughts on Fortune, and been denied the opportunity to explain further.50 Given that the illumination in this Cambridge manuscript of the Latin De remediis involves the generalized representation of a royal auditor, it might be expected that Parisian artists of the final quarter of the fourteenth century would use this schema for the French version. If they did, no example has survived. The nearest approach comes in a fifteenth-century codex of Daudin's translation, of which only Book II is extant, finely illuminated in grisaille. This opens with a column-width miniature, gold-framed, of a capped and gowned magister in his cathedra reading a lecture from an open book on a lectern with a sort of hood above it. His pupil sits writing before him, on a stool on the grass. This is for the Prologue. For the text proper, there is another grisaille of a seated, gold-crowned, long-haired woman with a sceptre cradled in her left arm and her right forefinger

49 MS Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum CFM 27, fols. 2r, 74r; Mann, British Isles, no. 13; Mann, 'Checklist', no. 14; F. Wormald and P. Giles, A descriptive Catalogue of the additional illuminated Manuscripts in the Fitzwilliam Museum acquired between 1895 and 1979 (2 vols., Cambridge 1982), I pp. 42-48; cf. MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale n. acq. lat. 1821, fol. l r , reprod. Trapp (n. 21 above), fig. 4. °° Petrarch, Epistolae familiares, XXII. 13; for the appearance of Charles V, see C. Sherman, The Portraits of Charles V of France, 1338-80 (New York 1969); ead., 'Representations of Charles V as a wise Ruler', Medievalia et Humanistica, n. s. 2 (1971), 83-96.

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raised, addressing a turbaned, long-robed man with his hand raised, standing on the grass.31 The manuscript was once the property of Louis de Gruthuyse (1422^92), who may have acquired it from an English source, since an English hand has entered parallel passages from Petrarch's Latin in the margins. The arms of Gruthuyse, obscured by those of Louis XII, the later possessor of Gruthuyse's manuscripts, are at the foot of the first illuminated page. A handsome late manuscript of Daudin's translation, written in a good bdtarde hand at the end of the fifteenth century or beginning of the sixteenth, shows the author alone in his study.52 Above the beginning of the prologue to Book I is a fine miniature, perhaps Flemish- or Italian-influenced, in which 'Petrarch', laureate and wearing a bluish-mauve robe trimmed with blue, is seated on a stool, pen and knife in hand. He is writing in a book on the sloping lectern before him; other books are on the shelf above (plate 1). Three manuscripts of Daudin's translation, all made in Paris for noble patrons during the third quarter of the fifteenth century, are richer still. The illustrations of one are by, or at least in the style of, Maitre Francois, who was active from about 1460 to 1480. The codex, once in the possession of Jacques d'Armagnac, due de Nemours, who died in 1477, may have been commissioned by him. Later, it passed to the Tanneguy du Chatel family, to come finally into the collection of Prince Eugene of Savoy, whose arms were added to it. The script is a fine bdtarde, and each of its two half-page illustrations is surrounded with a splendid border of acanthus and flowery twigs, inhabited by birds.53 The first miniature is of Good Fortune, in a spacious arched and pillared room with windows at the rear. Between the windows is a buffet covered with a cloth, on which stand opulent vessels. To the left is Fortune, long-robed and wearing a fashionable hennin on her head. Two-faced, she shows her light

51

MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale fr. 593, fols. 4', 10V; 3r v; Pellegrin, France, pp. 218-9 (III.436-7); Mann, 'Checklist', no. 221; Essling & Miintz, pp. 92-94. 52 MS Paris, Bibliotheque de 1'Arsenal 2860, fol. 5V; Pellegrin, France, pp. 190-91 (III.417-8); Mann, 'Checklist', no. 220. 53 MS Vienna, Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek 2559, fols. 5V, 133r; Mann, 'Checklist', no. 223; O. Pacht and D. Thoss, Die illuminierten Handschriften und Inkunabeln der Osterreichischen Nationalbibliothek: Fran^osische Schule (2 vols., Vienna 1974), I, 85-86, figs. 153-4; Trapp, 'The Iconography of Petrarch', pi. L; F. Avril & N. Reynaud, Les manuscrits a peintures en France, 1440-1520, catalogue of an exhibition at the BNF (Paris 1993), nos. 14-17; cf. below pp. 239-40.

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'Petrarch' in his study. MS Paris, Bibliotheque de I'Arsenal 2860, fol. 5V (p. 237).

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visage and turns her dark aspect away to hide it from her dupes.54 She is holding the handle of her wheel, on top of which sits a crowned king, robed in ermine and holding a sceptre. To the right her clients, richly dressed, male and female, clerical and lay, offer gifts. Below her feet is a gold-framed cartellino with the quatrain: Fortune suys royne et deesse A qui monstre ma belle face: Lun luy fait dons, lautre promesse Tous 1'honnorent, chascun lembrasse.

The illustration for Bad Fortune again has a double-faced Fortune in her fashionable clothes, her dark face showing this time, standing to the left of her wheel and turning it so that the king falls headlong. His fall is assisted by one of his clients, who claws him down. Other evil counsellors cluster round another royal figure to the right, and the other royal clients seem intent on robbery. The interior is as before except that, to the left, a door gives access to the open air. Below Fortune's feet and her wheel is again a cartellino with the quatrain: Fortune suys fiere maistresse A qui tourne ma laide face Lun le pille, lautre le laisse Tous le moquent, chascun le chasse.

Another Parisian French manuscript, in a similar style to and roughly contemporary with that in Vienna, slightly less opulent but still spectacular, equally large, is illuminated on a similar scheme. The whole page containing the prologue to Book I is surrounded by a border of flowers and fruit, in which stands a peacock.55 The upper half of 54 Boethius, De consolatione philosophiae II. pr. 1: 'Deprehendisti caeci numinis ambiguos vultus', reinforced by Albertus Magnus, Physica II. ii. 11: 'dixerunt fortunam esse divinum numen . . . quod erat. . . dimidium nigrum et dimidium alburn propter eufortunium et infortunium, quae sunt partes fortunae'. Fortune is already sometimes shown in the twelfth century with two faces or heads, as in the leaves preceding a Priifening manuscript of the so-called Glossarium Salomonis written in 1458, now MS Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek elm. 13002, f. 3V, for which see Regensburger Buchmalerei von jruhkarolingischer %eit bis zum Ausgang des Mittelalters, catalogue of the exhibition, ed. F. Mutherich (Munich 1987) no. 34, pi. 25. Before the fifteenth century, however—as far as I know—neither face is dark. 53 MS Aix-en-Provence, Bibliotheque Mejanes Res. 52, fols. 3V, 6r, 141r; Catalogue general des manuscnts des bibliotheques de France, LXI, Supplements (Paris 1980), pp. 14-15; Pellegrin, France, p. 187 (III.405); Mann, 'Checklist', no. 217; cf. Avril & Reynaud, loc. cit. n. 53 above.

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the page is occupied by a miniature showing the clerkly, unlaureate 'Petrarch' writing in his cathedra to the right as Fortune, again dressed in the height of fashion, hennin on head, but not double-faced, stands vaunting her power by her wheel with its passengers, while her male and female clients kneel beseechingly before it. The same quatrain as in the Vienna codex appears on a cartellino. Though a page similarly illuminated clearly once existed for Book II, this has been removed. A third manuscript of Daudin's translation, similar, if a little less fine, belongs to a similar time and milieu. Its script is an elegant bdtarde, with flower, leaf and tendril decoration and elaborate rinceau initials to the opening pages of Prologue and Book I. In a large, virtually full-page presentation miniature to the Prologue, Daudin kneels to offer his book to Charles enthroned and surrounded by courtiers.56 For the opening of the text, 'D'estre en la fleur de sa jeunesse . . .', there is an almost full-page, monitory miniature. The author, in a long blue robe, stands beside a canopied bed to draw the attention of an elegant young man to a corpse which is lying a prey to worms on the floor. Behind the young man are means of enjoyment: a bench and table, a sideboard covered with a cloth and set with vessels and an armoire with books in an alcove. The illustrations were once attributed to Jacques de Besancon, but recent opinion places them in the ambience of the Maitre de Jean Rolin, active from about 1450 to 1465, or of Maitre Francois.57 They antedate 1477, the death-year of Jacques d'Armagnac, due de Nemours, whose ownership inscription is in the book. The arms of a later owner, Antoine, Bastard of Burgundy (d. 1504), appear below the second miniature. Two final manuscripts of De remediis in French are more richly illuminated than all the others. Their text is not Daudin's, but the new version of 1503 by a translator as yet unidentified. The illumination of each shares certain iconographical details with that of the other. Each is the work of artists belonging to or connected with the substantial metropolitan French group active during the first two decades of the sixteenth century. Misleadingly identified more than 56 MS Dresden, Staatsbibliothek Oc. 54, fols. 5r, 15r; Mann, 'Checklist', no. 218; R. Bruck, Die Malereien in den Handschriften des Konigsreichs Sachsen (Dresden 1906) no. 116, pp. 306-8; E. Rothe, Buchmalerei aus 12 Jahrhunderten (Berlin 1966), 201, 260, pi. 89. 31 P. Durrieu, Jacques de Besancon et son oeuvre (Paris 1892), p. 78; Avril & Reynaud (n. 53 above), nos. 8—17.

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three quarters of a century ago as the 'Ecole de Rouen', this comprised a number of highly accomplished painters, not all of whom have yet been precisely named. An ensemble that has recently been characterized as the 'atelier de Gaillon' worked for Cardinal Georges d'Amboise, archbishop of Rouen and, perhaps through his patronage, for Louise de Savoie, wife of Charles de Valois and mother of Francois I, as well as for Louis XII. It is clear, however, that the artist or artists of De remediis was or were different from the illustrators of the sumptuous manuscripts of Petrarch's Trionfi, one at least made for Louis XII, now in Paris and Vienna.08 The paper manuscript of this new translation once owned by Louise was later in the personal library of Frangois I.59 Its illustrator has recently been identified as Jean Pichore, who is documented as active in Paris from 1502 to 1520.60 This is a tall and imposing manuscrit de luxe, written in a fine bdtarde hand, with a full-page miniature at the beginning of the prologue to each book, another smaller one at the opening of Book I, and illuminated initials.61 From its miniatures the figure of the author is absent: Fortune and her agents dominate. In the first picture, Fortune's face is divided vertically between light and dark, as it is in the illustrations of some fifteenth-century manuscripts of Boethius and of Laurent de Premierfait's French translations of Giovanni Boccaccio's De casibus virorum illustrium.62 She is not blindfold, wears a crown and is seated on a pillared throne with a coquille at the top of its back, which stands on a dais on a lozenge-patterned floor within a pillared alcove with profile heads in medallions in the spandrels of its arch. Behind Fortune's throne, above her head, is her wheel, with a crowned and sceptred king at its top and four other men, robed but not crowned, at various stages of their rise and fall clinging to it, two to a side. The whole architectural frame, wheel and throne are figured in gold. Fortune, in her white robe with dark trim, is clearly identifiable by

D8 Avril & Reynaud, 411-8, nos. 236—7; and see below. °9 M.-P. Laffitte and U. Baurmeister, Des livres et des rois. La bibliotheque royale de Blois, catalogue of the exhibition at Blois and Paris (Paris 1992), p. 170. 60 Avril & Reynaud, 282~5. 61 MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale fr. 224, fols. 2r, 9r, 129V; Avril & Reynaud, 284; Pellegrin, France, pp. 214-5 (IH.432-3); Mann, 'Checklist', no. 226; Essling & Miintz (n. 5 above), 94; colour reproductions in Kurose 1977 (n. 7 above), pis. 63a-c. 62 N. 54 above; Kurose 1977 (n. 7 above), pis. 7-8, 19a-b.

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her aspect and accessories; besides, she is labelled, clasps a red moneybag in her left hand, and displays a heap of gold coins on her right palm. To the picture's left, at Fortune's right, stand women in long robes, their hands together in supplication. They are labelled, a la Petrarque: joye and espem[nce]. Joye, her head coifed and wimpled, looks ecclesiastical and perhaps represents esperance, though she is dressed in black; and vice versa the bare-headed figure labelled espera[nce] looks more like a laywoman than one of the theological virtues, though she wears green, color spei. Douleur and crainte, not labelled, stand to Fortune's other side, dressed in black and brown respectively, and turning their faces away. In the similar but smaller miniature above the beginning of the text proper of Book I, one lady enticingly holds out a flower and bears the label ioye. The other figure is not labelled, but wears a light-brown undergarment and a black cloak: she may be Raison, or the vaine esperaunce of Book I, or the douleur of Book II. The text proper of the book begins below the miniature, text and miniature enclosed in a sumptuous, wide arabesque border which is inhabited by birds, animals and humans. This miniature is similar to the frontispiece of the Prologue, differing significantly only in its different personnel and the absence of coins from Fortune's right hand. The frontispiece to Book II again shows Fortune, so labelled, in white and gold, her face again half dark and half bright, seated on her golden throne, holding no riches of any sort, but merely gesturing with her left hand. Her wheel, with the crowned king at its summit, a figure rising to one side, another descending to the other, and another at the foot, is this time placed in a landscape to the left and behind the throne. In the left foreground stands a woman, labelled douleur, wearing a long brown robe, her arms folded and her face expressive of suffering. To the right stands another woman in a long dark robe, loosely laced, looking apprehensive and labelled crainte. The second illustrated manuscript of this translation is still larger and more magnificent, with its fifteen superb full-page miniatures and other illumination.63 A note at the end of the text gives a terminus ante quern for its decoration: the translation was completed at 63 MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale fr. 225, fols. Av, l r , 8r, 23r, 39V, 55r, 66V, 78V, 100V, 104r, 120V, 135V, 151r, 165r, 202r; Avril & Reynaud, 414-5, no. 236; Pellegrin, France, pp. 215-7 (III.433-5); Mann, 'Checklist', no. 227; Laffitte & Baurmeister,

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Rouen on 6 May 1503. Its illustration has recently been identified as Parisian, again the work of Jean Pichore, with initials and borders attributed to Jean Serpin. The script is a fine batarde, typical of contemporary Rouen scribes. The codex was probably commissioned by Cardinal Georges d'Amboise and certainly intended for presentation to Louis XII. The manuscript remained in the royal library. It can be identified with fair certainty in the Blois inventory of 1518 and seems still to have been at Blois in 1544. At some early time, and probably originally, its binding consisted of an upper cover in green velvet embroidered with gold roses for good fortune and a lower in black velvet with tears of silver for bad.64 In the presentation miniature Louis is richly robed in red with an ermine-collared blue over-mantle, lined with white and seme withfleurs-de-lys.He is seated on his throne, sceptre in hand and crown on head, his feet resting on a fine green carpet, laid over a chequered and elaborately patterned marble floor. Courtiers are in attendance. The Cardinal is a modest absentee from among them, as he is from all but one of the illustrations to the text proper. A pair of composite columns frames the dedication picture to either side. Above and between them is a rich arabesque arch. Above the columns stand two naked putti, one white, one dark, each holding a shield of arms, those at left of France, those at right of the dukes of Milan. In the centre, supported by a pair of porcupines, the device of Louis, are the arms of France again, surrounded by the collar of St Michel and surmounted by an imperial crown.63 This miniature is more elaborately framed than the others, which all have a plain gold border edged with red. The first illustration proper (plate 2) is of Fortune and her wheel. As in Louise's manuscript, she dominates: the book's author does not appear. Fortune is richly robed in red, crowned, blindfold, her impassive face again divided vertically between light and dark, and she wears a heavy gold neck-chain, with a gold medallion suspended from it. As in Des livres et des rois, pp. 169-70, no. 39; Essling & Miintz, Petrarque, 88—94; colour illustration in Avril & Reynaud, p. 415, and others in Kurose 1977, pis. 64a~n. 64 For the practice of using different colours for upper and lower covers, see A. Hobson, Renaissance Book-Collecting: Jean Grolier and Diego Hurtado de Mendoza, their Books and Bindings (Cambridge 1999), pp. 93-94. 63 R. Scheller, 'French royal Symbolism in the Age of Louis XIII', Simiolus 13 (1983), pp. 104-6.

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Fortune and her wheel. MS Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale fr. 225, fol. l v (pp. 243^5).

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some fifteenth-century manuscripts of Laurent de Premierfait's French translations of Boccaccio's De casibus, she is many-armed.66 She stands, monumental and calm, to distribute impartially her rewards and punishments. Four of her five right arms are extended to bestow honours and dignities on princes, ecclesiastics and laymen; the fifth holds an open purse. With four of her left arms she takes away similarly; the fifth holds a purse that is firmly closed. Before her is her wheel, mounted on a post. It is crowded with those who are rising, richly blue-robed, towards the three crowned figures at its summit and with those less prosperous, brown-clad figures who are on the downward sweep.67 To one side, a tranquil, well-dressed Prosperite seems with extended hand to encourage those clinging to the wheel. Behind Prosperite is the smaller figure of Esperance and before her Joye, smaller too; both well-dressed young women. Joye has hold of the wheel's crank-handle. On the other side a haggard, dusky Adversite, her meagre brown garments in disarray, pulls down on the wheel to bring its riders to misfortune; the smaller figures of Douleur and Crainte, dark- and ragged-robed, drag a poor wretch off it. With the third miniature the illustration of the text proper begins. The protagonists are—as they will be throughout this book—Everyman; Joy and false Hope, encouraging Everyman to trust the false good; Fortune, the provider of apparent benefit; and Reason, seeking to bring Everyman to his senses, with the help—in a variation on the Petrarchan message—of Faith and true Hope. Except in the miniature for the Prologue to Book II Raison from now on takes pride of place. Looking there much like the Prosperite of the Prologue miniature, she sits in a landscape on a throne with a high golden back. With her right forefinger she points to a tablet with a rounded top, on which are shown the theological virtues of Foy and Esperance. Above and to the right, Fortune, red-robed, also seated on her throne, but no longer blindfold and wearing only her favourable face, holds the crank-handle to turn her wheel. Three men cling to the wheel's rim, and a fourth, crowned and sceptred, sits at the top. Below, to the right, stands a young man in a long, rich robe, carrying a baton in his left hand and wearing a cap, his right forefinger raised to 56 At the beginning of his sixth book, Boccaccio describes her as appearing to him, wild of look and hundred-armed. The artists do not go above twelve (see the selection of illustrations in Kurose, Miniatures of the Goddess Fortune, pis. 9-17). 6/ Italics henceforth indicate an inscription on the miniature itself.

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address Raison: he is Everyman, lome (1'homme), in the flower of his youth. Behind him are Joye, Sensualite, secular Esperance and Prosperity her hand on his shoulder. Abus, a cowled, white-bearded figure, holding a rosary, lurks half obscured in the background. Seven young and handsome ladies behind Raison's tablet are identified by the legend: De riche et bien fortunee lignye., referring particularly to De remediis I. 16-17. In the background is a city-scape, with towers and spires. Next, a miniature embodying De venerie, de utensiles pour boire et mengier, de grant multitude de serviteurs, de faulconerie, de musique, de sewiteurs et chevaulx, de magnificence de maisons: I. 19, 23, 31-34. Rayson is again seated on her throne, holding her tablet with Foye and Esperance and lome is again accompanied by Prosperite, Sensualite, Joye, and Esperance', with Abus at their back, and there are dogs for hunting and vessels for eating and drinking on a low table in the foreground. In the background are musicians, mounted men and a land- and city-scape with Fortune and her wheel as before. I. 40-44, 53-54 are given a picture De tables peints, de belles statues, d'ymages et beaute de corps—naked ladies—perhaps a reference to the virgins of Croton, from whom Zeuxis was reported to have drawn ideal beauty—clustered behind Fortune's throne;68 De trouver une myne d'or—men busy with pick and shovel; D'ousts—armies—de gendarmes et chevalerie—battles; De la renommee des ecrivains et composeurs de limes—writers at work, with piles of books on their desks; De vesseaulx d'or et d'argent—on a low table in the foreground. Prosperite seems to encourage lome as, Joye and sensualite beside him, he addresses raison, who continues to indicate her tablet. At the rear Abus is revealed for the first time at full length, his fashionably striped hose showing beneath his habit. Then I. 60-62, 65-66, 72 with their camels and elephants, their flocks of sheep and swarms of mouches a myel, their jille chaste, their beaute des enfens, noble femme en manage, oyseaux et bestes sauvages—quails, peacocks, a cock and monkeys. Lome, accompanied as before, continues to plead, as Rayson again indicates her tablet. Then I. 76, 87—88: in the background Fortune and her wheel, and a ship by the waterside, with a figure descending by a gangplank: de la mer desert, de I'arwee prosperee au port desire and, in the foreground les filles, les jils, 68 M. Baxandall, Giotto and the Orators. Humanist Observers of Painting in Italy and the Discovery of pictorial Composition, 1350-1440., Oxford-Warburg Studies (Oxford 1971), pp. 51—66, 140-43; and cf. A. Chastel, Tetrarque et son illustrateur devant la peinture', Melanges offertes a Louis Grodecki, ed. S. Crosby et al. (Paris 1981), pp. 343 52.

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la seconds feme, the last accompanied by a flock of little girls and boys and presented by lome, accompanied as before, to a still inexorable Rqyson. Then a warlike I. 97—100: Fortune turns her wheel in the background, where there are also de grant compagnye et ost de gendarmes, de grant multitude de navires, and in the foreground de canons et arbalestes, de grans tresor assemble pour faire guerre, with lome as ruler-commander, perhaps Louis XII, wearing an open crown as he fruitlessly pleads his case. From the picture for the Prologue to Book II, Reason has been banished. Enthroned Fortune presides, dark of face and hands, as she remains throughout the book, and holding the crank-handle of her wheel, over De toutes les choses que jamais ne pleurent. . . Figures of Ernie, Avarice with twin red purses, Paresse, Faiblesse, Rapine, Tristesse, Fraude, with pouch of parchment deeds and clutching another deed, Pauvrete, Glotonye, Colere, Maladie, Orgueil, Adversite, Cruaute, Traison, Luxure, Desperaunce, Discorde make their appearance, all with appropriate attributes. In the background cadavers bear scythe, dart, bow and arrows to portray Mart volontaire, soudaine, violente, honteuse and naturelk. In the first miniature for Book II proper, Raison is on her throne again with her tablet of Foi and Esperance, set over against red-robed, dusky Fortune on her throne by a rock, with her wheel, Adversite, Doute and Crainte by her side. Lome, on this first occasion looks more marked by experience, and aghast before large figures of the ills to which he is subject (II. 1—16): Maladie, Feiblesse, Desperaunce, Deformite, Pourete, Adversite and others, in sad brown. For II. 17—21, Everyman is indicating to Reason a woman before a judge: defeme espousee adjugee a auoutrie; and there are voisins noyseux, feme perdue, feme ravye by a young man on a horse, feme qui tansse et noysse, Fortune and her wheel in the background, accompanied by unidentified allegorical figures. Then come (II. 39-43): la feme, kneeling to mourn la mort de son enfant, lome pointing out and complaining to Rayson de maulvais et injuste seigneur. In the background, Fortune again with her wheel, accompanied by adversite, with other causes for complaint by lome: de laboureur maulvais et orguilleux, de la durete du pere, de la maratre—the cruel stepmother who maltreats the children. Then a scene from which the inscriptions have mostly either disappeared or were never written: Fortune and her wheel in the background with robbers, the ruin of the country, torture and prison, against a city-scape. In the foreground lome cries aloud to Reason, who no longer has her tablet (II. 59-62).

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Then an extraordinary picture, with Everyman transformed into a king apparently at the summit of the wheel, Louis XII himself, to illustrate II. 78: Du Roy sans jils, who must come to terms with the misfortune of having no male heir. In an extensive landscape with a walled castle on a hill and a city behind, Fortune is enthroned, turning her dark face away towards Adversite; behind her throne, to her left, is her wheel with its victims. To her left, a troop of halberdiers; before her a group of courtiers, headed by the Cardinal Georges d'Amboise—his sole appearance—at the shoulder of Louis, who is wearing his diadem and standing before Rayson. She has put her tablet with Foi and Esperance on the ground, the better to follow with her right hand the gesture made by the King with his left. Louis is indicating Anne de Bretagne as she sits on a chair of state, with her little daughter Claude on her knee. A group of attendant ladies stands behind her chair, and a pair of pages, a dog and a monkey intervene between her and Rayson. Finally, in II. 117ff., lome appeals vainly for protection against the human lot of Death, who is planting his dart in lome's back, to Rayson as she sits sad and powerless, her hands folded, her tablet on the ground at her feet. The cadaver de celui qui demeure sans sepulture in the foreground is devoured by a dog, a crow, a hawk and a lion. Death is further active, under the patronage of Fortune, dark of face, enthroned without her wheel in the background. De mort avant ses jours, Mort volontaire, Mort ignominyeuse and mort soudaine are all occurring, besides death en pechez, with devils waiting at the bedside to carry off the sinful soul. Petrarch's considerations of the human condition were intended not only for himself and for Azzo da Correggio but for the world at large. The illuminated manuscripts of De remediis reflect, in varying styles, the taste and, in varying degree, the financial resources, of those who had a fall to fear. The lavish, copious and literal illustrations of Petrarch's text in Louis XII's manuscript are the French high point, as the Medici manuscript is, in its different decorative terms, the Italian. By and large, it is in France rather than Italy that manuscript illuminators attempt to render visible the subject matter of De remediis, both through their modifications of the formula of Fortune's wheel, by now widely current in their milieu, and by more elaborate transpositions. In the second quarter of the sixteenth century, French woodcut illustration gave Petrarch's dialogues wider

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visual currency, and the hundreds of inventive woodcuts with which the Petrarch Master, perhaps Hans Weiditz, supplied the German translation first published at Augsburg in 1532 extended this. But that is another and even longer story.

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PHILOSOPHIE UND POESIE—ZWEI ZANKENDE GESGHWISTER Benedikt Konrad Vollmann

a ulv -uq 5iacpopa cptXoacxpta ie Kod TtovntiKTJ (Platon, Politeia 607b)

Als Platon (Politeia 386a~398b, 595a-609a) Dichtung fur jugendgefahrdend erklarte und damit den Padagogen einen zentralen Lehrgegenstand absprach, hatte das zwar keine praktische Auswirkung auf die folgenden zweieinhalb Jahrtausende gymnasialen Unterrichts, aber es markierte ein Problem: Kann Homer Lebenswerte vermitteln oder kann das nur die Philosophic? Und wenn Dichtung nichts zur Sinnfindung und ethischen Lebensgestaltung beitragt, was bewirkt sie dann? Der Dichter, so Platon, befriedigt asthetische Bediirfnisse, wenn er auf schone Weise 'mit Wortern und Namen den Dingen Farbe gibt, von denen er nichts versteht',1 und er befriedigt sentimentale Bediirfnisse wie Weinen und Lachen, die als psychische Erregungen lustvoll genossen werden,2 aber nicht zu sittlichem Handeln fiihren, sondern im Gegenteil den 'riihrseligen' Menschen verweichlichen.3 Boethius wird die Vorstellung von der 'siiBlichen Muse' aufgreifen und in das groBartige Eingangsbild seiner De consolatione 1

Politeia 60la: ioi<; ovojaacnv Kai pf||iaow eTtixpcoiiati^ew dutov OUK eniovTa. Politeia 605cd: oi yap KOD (3eXiiaTov f|ucov dKpocou£voi Ouripoi) f\ aAAot) ivvoq TCOV tpaYa|j,evr|v Mouaav 7iapa8e^ev ev |a.eA,eaiv r\ eneatv, fi8ovr| ooi Kal A-tmr) ev tr\ noXei pacnXexxjeiov dvtl v6|j.ov Te Kal TOU KOWTI det So^aviot; eivai peA/uaTot) A,6you. ('Wirst du aber die siiBliche Muse aufnehmen, dichte sie nun Gesange oder gesprochene Verse: so werden dir Lust und Unlust im Staate das Regiment fiihren statt des Gesetzes und der jeweils von der Gesamtheit fur das beste gehaltenen verniinftigen Gedanken.'). 2

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Philosophiae umsetzen: Die von der Erde bis zum Himmel ragende Frau Philosophia vertreibt die Musen des Boethius, jene scenicae meretriculae und Sirenes usque in exitium dukes 'die mit den unfruchtbaren Dornen der Gefiihle die fruchttragende Saat der Vernunft ersticken.'4 Bereits zuvor hatte Augustin seine gefiihlsseligen, aber ethisch unwirksamen Tranen bei der Lektiire Vergils beklagt: 'Was ist erbarmlicher als ein Erbarmlicher, der mit sich selbst kein Erbarmen kennt und der dariiber weint, dass Dido starb, weil sie Aeneas liebte, nicht aber dariiber, dass er selber starb, weil er dich, mein Gott, nicht liebte.'5 Und acht Jahrhunderte spater werden sich Aelred von Rievaulx und Petrus von Blois in ahnlicher Weise auBern: 'Ich erinnere mich, mehr als einmal durch die volkssprachigen Geschichten von einem gewissen Artus bis zu Tranen geriihrt worden zu sein.'6 Voraus geht der Satz 'Wenn da in hohlen Tragodien und Liedern ein liebenswerter, schoner, tapferer gutherziger Mensch als ein ungerechtfertigt dem Untergang Preisgegebener dargestellt wird, und dann der Zuhorer oder Zuschauer bis zu Tranen geriihrt ist—ware es nicht absurd, aus dieser unverbindlichen Ruhrung auf seine Fahigkeit zu wahrer Liebe zu schlieBen? Wiirden diese Dinge sich nicht in der dichterischen Erzahlung, sondern real vor seinen Augen zutragen, wlirde er nicht das kleinste Bisschen seines Vermogens zu dessen Rettung aufwenden.' 7 Der Vorwurf richtet sich hier gegen volkssprachige (Helden-)Dichtung, unterscheidet sich aber nicht wesentlich von der

4

De consolatione philosophiae I pr. 1: 'Hae sunt enim, quae infructuosis affectuum spinis uberem fructibus rationis segetem necant.' Ausfuhrlich hierzu, C, MuellerGoldingen, 'Die Stellung der Dichtung in Boethius' 'Consolatio Philosophiae', Rheinisches Museum fur Philologie 132 (1989), 369-395. 5 Confessiones I, 3,21: 'Quid enim miserius misero non miserante se ipsum et flente Didonis mortem, quae fiebat amando Aeneam, non flente autem mortem suam, quae fiebat non amando te, deus.' 6 Aelred, Speculum caritatis II, 17,51 (Opera omnia, hg. A. Hoste und C. Talbot (Turnhout 1971) (CCCM 1), p. 90:949-951): 'Nam et in fabulis, quae uulgo de nescio quo finguntur Arthuro, memini me nonnumquam usque ad effusionem lacrimarum fuisse permotum.' 7 Ibid. 17,50 (p. 90:927-936): 'Cum enim in tragoediis uanisve carminibus quisquam iniuriatus fingitur, uel oppressus, cuius amabilis pulchritudo, fortitudo mirabilis, gratiosus praedicetur affectus; si quis haec uel cum canuntur audiens, uel cernens si recitentur, usque ad expressionem lacrymarum quodam moueatur affectu, nonne perabsurdum est, ex hac uanissima pietate de amoris eius qualitate capere coniecturam, ut hinc fabulosum ilium nescio quem affirmetur amare, pro cuius ereptione, etiamsi haec omnia uere prae oculis gererentur, ne modicam quidem substantiae suae portionem pateretur expendi?' Ganz ahnlich Petrus von Blois, De confessione sacramenti (PL 207,1088CD).

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Kritik an Homer und Vergil: Dichtung erzeugt Lust, auch lustvolle Tranen, aber nicht Tugend. Tugend, Seriositat, gravitas vitae, das 1st es, was die Philosophic, jedenfalls die philosophia ethica, lehrt, wornit sie dem Individuurn und der Gesellschaft niitzt, wahrend die Dichtung unernsthaft, eine musa iocosa., und daher unniitz ist. Auch hier hat Platon das Stichwort geliefert: 'Es ist klar, dass der Nachbildner nichts von dem versteht, was er nachbildet, und daB die Nachbildung eben nur ein Spiel ist und kein Ernst, und dass die sich mit der tragischen Dichtung beschaftigen, in Jamben sowohl als in Hexametern, insgesamt Nachbilder sind.'8 Die christliche Antike konnte sich diese Auffassung vom Primat der Philosophic problemlos zu eigen machen. So erklarte etwa Isidor von Sevilla (Etymologiae II 24,8), dass die zentralen Themen der Philosophic gleichfalls in der HI. Schrift behandelt werden. Vor allem aber war es das Monchtum, das sich als legitimen Nachfahren und Fortsetzer philosophischer Lebensweise betrachtete.9 Das fruhe Mittelalter, das so stark von der Patristik gepragt war, hat diese Bewertung ubernommen. Auf Platon geht auch der dritte, am weitesten verbreitete Vorwurf der Philosophen gegen die Dichter zuriick, der Vorwurf der Luge. Denn was diese von Gottern und Heroen sagen, 'ist weder fromm noch wahr'.10 Dass die neue philosophia theologica des Christentums auch diese Auffassung teilte und ans Mittelalter weiterreichte, muss hier nicht weiter erortert werden.11 Nun hatte selbst Platon den Dichtern eine kleine Tiire offen gelassen, durch die sie seinen Staat betreten konnten. Sie waren willkommen, wenn sie 'Gesange an die Gotter und Loblieder auf treffliche Manner' verfassten.12 Betrachtet 8 Politeia 602b: Tama (...} ejuEiKax; f|uw 8va)UoA,6YnT(xi, TOY te IIVIITITIKOV |ir|6ev ei6evat a^iov Xoyou rcepi
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man die dichterische Produktion der christlich-lateinischen Spatantike, konnte man versucht sein, in ihr eine Realisation des platonischen Entwurfs zu sehen: Hymnen, Bibelepik (gleich magnalia del und gesta fortia der Patriarchen, Konige, Propheten, vor allem aber des hews Christus), Lobpreis von Martyrern, Heiligen und Herrschern, in Verse gesetzte Lebenslehre (Philosophie/Theologie), Epigramme und Epitaphien—damit erschopft sich so ziemlich die christlich-lateinische Poesie des 4-6. Jahrhunderts. Abweichler wie Ausonius, Dracontius und Venantius Fortunatus sind seltene Ausnahmen. Verschwunden sind die von Platon inkriminierten Gattungen Tragodie (abgesehen von der 'Orestis' des Dracontius), Komodie, mythologisches Epos, erotische Dichtung.13 Theoretisch gesprochen hatte es dabei bleiben konnen, und in der Tat deutete sich in den lateinischen Landern ein Absterben der 'philosophisch unerwiinschten' Poesie in dem Sinne an, dass nicht nur keine neuen Werke der verponten Art entstanden, sondern auch die vorhandenen pagan-antiken Dichtungen kaum mehr rezipiert wurden. Die nach dem Untergang der antiken offentlichen Schule sich etablierende Pfarr- und Klosterschule verzichtete generell auf heidnische Unterrichtstexte,14 in Spanien wurden die alten Klassiker— Vergil ausgenommen—durch die neuen, christlichen Klassiker ersetzt.15 Im Gallien des 6. Jahrhunderts hatte zwar Gregor von Tours im Hausunterricht noch die ersten sechs Biicher der 'Aeneis' gelesen, aber wenige Jahre nach seinem Tod verurteilte Papst Gregor der GroBe scharf das Klassikerstudium des Bischofs Desiderius von Vienne und seiner Kleriker.16 (Italien bleibt ohnehin bis zur Mitte des 8. Jahrhunderts stumm.) Dass die pagan-antike Literatur dennoch nicht unterging, verdanken wir dem Interesse der nichtlateinischen Volker, alien voran den Iren, Angelsachsen, Langobarden und Franken. Selbstverstandlich stand auch fur sie—in Aneignung und Nachahmung—das christliche Erbe im Mittelpunkt, aber sie lieBen sich den

13

Zu letzterer vgl. Politeia 606d. Vgl. P. Riche, Education et culture dans I'occident barbare, VT-VIIF siecles (Paris 1962, 2e ed.), S. 324-350. 15 L. Holtz, 'Les poetes latin chretiens, nouveaux classiques dans 1'Espagne wisigothique' in De Tertullien aux mozarabes. Antiquite tardive et Christianisme ancien. Melanges qfferts a Jacques Fontaine [. . .] a ['occasion de son 70e anniversaire (Paris 1992), II, S. 69-81. 16 Registrum Gregorii Papae, epist. XI, 34 (MGH Epist. II, p. 303). 14

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Blick iiber die poetae nostri hinaus auf die poetae gentiles und 'weltliche' Dichtung nicht verwehren. Ein Grund hierfur mag in der Bindung an die nicht-christliche Dichtung in der Muttersprache zu suchen sein, wie sie vor allem fur Iren und Angelsachsen kennzeichnend ist. Ein weiterer Grund war gewiss die hohe Achtung, die die jungen Volker dem Bildungswert der antiken Poesie zollten. Damit hangt ein Drittes zusammen: Die Kultur des alten Rom stellte fur sie eine Herausforderung zur aemulatio dar. Diese Herausforderung wurde im Bereich der Muttersprachen angenommen, wie das Beowulf-Epos, die angelsachsiche und altsachsische Bibeldichtung und Otfrids von WeiBenburg Liber evangeliorum zeigen, sie wurde aber auch zu einem wesentlichen Movens der lateinischen Dichtung in der Karolingerzeit. Significant hierfur scheint mir, dass karolingische Dichter sich selber und ihren Zeitgenossen den Titel poeta zuerkennen, als wollten sie sagen: Wir konnen das, was die Alten konnten, und wir sind das, was die Alten waren. (Die Bevorzugung der metrischen Versmafie hangt unmittelbar damit zusammen.) Sieht man das Material der Continuatio Mediaevalis des Corpus Christianorum Latinorum auf CD-ROM (CLCLT) durch, so fallt auf, dass im Hochmittelalter poeta fast ausschlieBlich den pagan-antiken Dichter bezeichnet.17 So konnte Herrad von Hohenburg auf der bertihmten Artes-Tafel fol. 32r ihres 'Hortus deliciarum'18 poete und magi gleichsetzen und aus dem von philosophia beherrschten Kreis des positiven Weltwissens ausschliefien.19 Hierher gehoren auch die von Klopsch, Dichtungslehren, 12, angezogenen Beispiele von Autoren des 12. Jahrhunderts, die ausdriicklich die Bezeichnung poeta fur sich ablehnen: 'Non ego sum, quoniam nil fingo, poeta vocandus.'20 Anders in der karolingischen Epoche. Selbstverstandlich ist auch hier, wie schon bei Isidor, poeta ein Titel, der Klassikern wie Vergil, Horaz,

17 Zu diesem Ergebnis kommt auch P. Bourgain, 'La conception de la poesie chez les chartrains', in Aristote, I'ecole de Chartres et la cathedrals. Actes du Collogue du 5 et 6juillet 1997 (Paris 1997), S. 165-179, hier S. 166 und Anm. 10. 18 R. Green u.a. (Hgg.), Herrad of Hohenbourg: Hortus deliciarum (London u.a. 1979) (Studies of the Warburg Institute 36), S. 57. 19 Die Beischrift zum Dichterbild verdeutlicht dies: 'Isti immundis spiritibus inspirati scribunt artem magicam et poetriam, id est fabulosa commenta.' 20 Dichtungslehren, S. 12.

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Ovid, Lucan u.a. zukommt,21 aber dariiberhinaus ist poeta auch der zeitgenossische Autor, der in klassischer Weise Verse macht,22 ja sogar der Dichter in der Volkssprache.23 Daher bezeichnet man in selbstsicherem Stolz sich selber als poeta24 oder bedenkt man Zeitgenossen mit diesem Titel.23 Das Streben nach Zugehorigkeit zum chorus poetarum zeigt sich in der Ubernahme der Hesiodschen Berufimgslegende,26 mehr vielleicht noch bei Walahfrid, der sich im Speyrer Exil als Schicksalsgenosse Ovids, Vergils und anderer versteht: 'Es scheint, als hatten nachgerade alle Dichter einen Anspruch und personliches Anrecht auf ein leidvolles Leben in der Fremde.'27 Aber die Annaherung der Karolinger an ihre heidnischen Vorganger geht noch weiter: Man betrachtet mit unverhohlener Neugier auch die Verbotenen' Inhalte. Ein Verdikt wie das Papst Gregors I. ist jetzt nicht mehr denkbar. Man kopiert fleiBig Terenz samt den dazugehorigen antiken Scholien und nahert sich ohne Scheu den heidnischen Mythen.28 Nicht als wiirde man dem Polytheismus irgendein Existenzrecht zugestehen, aber man fiirchtet ihn auch nicht mehr; stattdessen sucht man mit selbstsicherer Gelassenheit die Mythen als Erkenntnisquelle zu nutzen. Kennzeichnend hierfiir ist Theodulfs Uberschrift zu carmen 45: 'Von den Biichern, die ich zu lesen pflegte, und wie die Mythologien der Dichter von den Philosophen allegorisch gedeutet werden.'29 In dieselbe Richtung geht die Zodiakus21 So Petrus Pisanus, Carmen 41,1 (MGH Poetae Latini Aevi Karolini [PLAC] I, ed. E. Duemmler (Berlin 1881) S. 74); Ermoldus Nigellus, Ad Pippinum Regem I, 189; II 3-4 und 35 (MGH PLAC II, ed. E. Duemmler (Berlin 1884); Walahfridus Strabo, De imagine Tetricis 10, 67 (ibid.). 22 Vgl. u.a. Alcuin, De Grammatica (PL 101, 857, 867; Ars Laureshamensis: expositio in Donatum maiorem (ed. B. Lofstedt (Turnhout 1977) (CCCM 40A; Grammatici hibernici carolini aevi 2), S. 4:33, 163:72, 164:1, 165:42. 23 Das 'Wessobrunner Schopfungsgedicht' tragt die Uberschrift De poeta: cf. Hanns Fischer, Schrifttafeln z.um althochdeutschen Lesebuch (Tubingen 1966), Taf. 14. 24 Candidus Fuldensis, Vita Eigili, capit. IX, XVIII (MGH PLAC II, S. 96); Walahfridus Strabo, De vita etfine Mammae monachi 26,5, 59; Aethilwulf, Praefatiuncula 1 (MGH PLAC I, S. 583); Johannes Diaconus, De cena Cypriani IV 11 (MGH PLAC IV,2, ed. K. Strecker (Berlin, 1923), S. 900); Notker Balbulus, Vita S Galli Ia2.3,4 (ibid., IV, 3, p. 1098); Tituli monasterii S. Sulpicii 30 (ibid., p. 1053). 25 Hrabanus Maurus, Carmen 10,16; Walahfridus Strabo, Carmen 45,1; Audradus Modicus, Fons vitae I 1 (MGH PLAC III, ed. L. Traube (Berlin 1896), S. 73). 26 Versus de poeta et interprete huius codicis (MGH PLAC II, S. 668-669). 27 Walahfridus Strabo, Carmen 76,60 61: 'Est veluti proprium et cunctis civile poetis, Extera regna pati.' 28 Vgl. Theodulf von Orleans, Carmen 45; Mythographus Vaticanus II. 29 'De libris quos legere solebam et qualiter fabulae poetarum a philosophis mystice pertractentur.'

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Deutung des Pacificus von Verona.30 Natiirlich sind die Gottergeschichten Talsch' und nur deren philosophische Deutung 'wahr', aber es sind die Irrtiimer einer Zeit, die eher Bedauern als gehassige Polemik verdient. Es fallt auf, dass der starker abwertende Ausdruck mendacium seltener und spater anzutreffen ist31 als das schwachere falsa fingered Der 'alte Streit' zwischen Poesie und Philosophic scheint nahezu erloschen. Die zeitgenossischen Dichtung ist unter dem Gesichtspunkt philosophischer Lebensfuhrung untadelig, und was die antiqm poetae1^ betrifft, so riicken sie aus der Sicht der Karolinger eng mit den veteres philosophi zusammen. Auf der einen Seite lassen sich, wie gesagt, die Mythologeme der Dichter philosophisch auswerten, wenn sie nicht schon von allem Anfang an auf Ausdeutung hin konzipiert waren;34 auf der anderen Seite ist die Philosophic der Alten auch nicht ganz unbedenklich. Nicht nur dass sie so verdachtige Figuren wie Epikur hervorbrachte, sie lieB sich auch als Stiitze des Heidentums instrumentalisieren, wie etwa die Disputation der hi. Katharina mit den philosophi zeigt.30 Die alte Philosophic war ebenso wie die alte Dichtung eine Fundgrube des Wissens, doch musste man in beiden Fallen das edle Metall vom tauben Gestein trennen. Und 30

Vgl. P. Dronke, 'Gli del pagani nella poesia latina medievale', in Id., Sources of Inspiration. Studies in Literary Transformations, 400—1500 (Rom 1997) (Storia e Letteratura—Studi e Testi 196), S. 243-262, hier 248-249. 31 Salomo III, Carmen I 264 (MGH PLAC IV, 1, ed. P. de Winterfeld (Berlin 1899), S. 304). Die rhythmische Vita s. Eligii (ibid., IV, 2, S. 787-806) ist vielleicht ins beginnende 8. Jahrhundert zu datieren. Der hier einschlagige Vers 4 ist jedenfalls aus luvencuS; De historia evangelica, Praefatio, 16 abgeschrieben. 32 Walahfridus Strabo, De vita Mammae XI 7; Carmina varia XXXIV 27 (MGH PLAC II, S. 682); Carmen Sangallense III 3-8 (MGH PLAC II, S. 476); Abbo Sangermensis, Bella Pansiacae Urbis, Scedula (MGH PLAC IV, 1, S. 77:18-78:2); Carmen de Sancto Cassiano I 181 (MGH PLAC IV, S. 186). Zur vielfaltigen, auch neutralen oder sogar positiven Bedeutung und Wertung vonfingere, vgl. B. Vollmann, 'Erlaubte Fiktionalitat: die Heiligenlegende', erscheint demnachst in F. Knapp (Hg.), Historisches und jiktionales Erztihlen im Mittelalter. 33 Venantius Fortunatus, Carmina III 10,1. 34 Vgl. Isidor, Etymokgiae VIII 7,10: 'Officium autem poetae in eo est ut ea, quae vere gesta sunt, in alias species obliquis figurationibus cum decore aliquo conversa transducat.' ('Die Aufgabe des Dichters besteht darin, mittels verhiillender Umgestaltung das reale Geschehen auf asthetisch ansprechende Weise in andere Erscheinungsformen verwandelnd uberzufuhren.'); Etymokgiae I 40,6 heiBt es von der Asopischen Fabel 'quod totum utique ad mores fingitur ut ad rem, quae intenditur, ficta quidem narratione, sed veraci significatione veniatur' ('die gesamte Fiktion zielt auf das sittliche Verhalten, so dass man zur intendierten Sache mittels einer erfundenen, jedoch auf Wahres hinweisenden Erzahlung gelangt.') 30 Vgl. die wohl ins ausgehende 8. Jahrhundert gehorende Passio beatae Catherinae virginis in B. Mombritius, Sanctuarium sen Vitae Sanctorum (Paris 1910), I, S. 283-287.

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noch etwas kommt hinzu, was den in der Spatantike so herabgewiirdigten Status der Poesie aufbesserte: die Erkenntnis, dass der HI. Schrift nicht nur eine fuhrende Rolle in der Erfindung der poetischen Gattungen zukam,36 sondern dass sie auch mit denselben Mitteln des bildhaften Integumentum arbeitete wie die profane Dichtung.37 Man hatte meinen konnen, damit sei der Streit der Geschwister nun endgiiltig beigelegt und ein dauerhaftes Verhaltnis friedlichen Nebeneinanders gesichert. Aber so wie sich die polemische Losung der christlichen Spatantike mit Eliminierung der nicht-christlichen Poesie nicht halten konnte, so war auch die irenische Losung der Karolingerzeit mit au pair-Behandlung von Poesie und Philosophic nicht von Dauer. Der Storenfried war das von Platon und der Patristik verbannte Paar iocus und delectatio, das in der nachkarolingischen Epoche anting, auf Existenzberechtigung zu drangen. Dies war mit dem Postulat einer philosophisch/theologisch ausgerichteten Dichtung nicht zu vereinbaren, und je frecher die iokos-lustvolle Poesie im Verlauf der Jahrhunderte wurde—mit der lateinischen Liebesdichtung des 12. Jahrhunderts als Hohepunkt—, desto erbitterter wurde der Kampf der 'philosophischen' Richtung gegen sie, ein Kampf, der auch die alte Feindschaft gegen die pagane Klassik wieder aufleben lieB; machte man sie doch—nicht zu Unrecht—mitverantwortlich fur die neue 'Liederlichkeit'. Es ist hier nicht moglich, alle Belege fur die Entstehung und Ausbreitung dieser neuen Konzeption von Dichtung zu sammeln und auszuwerten. Ich muss mich damit begniigen, die Umrisslinien der nachkarolingische Entwicklung zu skizzieren. Eine Wort- und Begriffsgeschichte von iocus und delectatio im hohen und spaten Mittelalter wiirde gewiss weitere Aufschliisse bringen. Einen ersten Ansatzpunkt des Neuen sehe ich in der 876 geschaffenen 'Cena Cypriani'-Versifizierung des romischen Diakons Johannes und seinem Versuch einer Rechtfertigung: 'Von Zeit zu Zeit wechselt der Dichter seine Muse ohne sich schuldig zu machen:

36

Vgl. Isidor, Etymologiae I 39,11; 17-19. Hierzu P. Dronke, 'Theologia veluti quaedam poetria: quelques observations sur la fonction des images poetiques chez Jean Scot', in R. Roques (Hg.) Jean Scot Erigene et Fhistoire de la philosophie (Paris 1977) (Colloques internationaux du CNRS 51), S. 243-52 = P. Dronke, The Medieval Poet and His World (Rom 1984) (Storia e Letteratura—Studi e Testi 164), S. 39-53. 37

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jetzt begliickt die spaBhafte Muse ein frohliches Volk.'38 Selbstverstandlich war es nicht, sich zum Spafi zu bekennen, wie die groBe Monographic von Joachim Suchomski gezeigt hat.39 Daher stofien wir auch in der Folgezeit immer noch auf Entschuldigungsformeln. Wir brauchen nur an den Prolog des Waltharius zu denken: '1st es eher an dem zu spielen, als den Herrn anzuflehen?'40 oder an den Schluss der Ecbasis capitivi: 'Es kann in der Tat nicht schaden, die ganzen Narreteien beiseite zu lassen und verniinftig zu sein. Auch ist es an der Zeit, dass Unterhaltung und Spiel dem Psalmengesang Platz mache.'41 Nicht ohne Grund, denn im Prolog hatte sich der Ecbasis-Dichter ganz offen dazu bekannt, eine Liigengeschichte zu verfassen.42 Ebenso offen bekennen sich die Dichter der 'Carmina Cantabrigiensia' 14 und 15 zum ridiculum und zur mendosa cantilena. Es sind erste Ansatze, die noch ihre Verbindung zur nicht-klerikalen Kultur erkennen lassen; doch kommt dieser Unernst jetzt in lateinischer Sprache aufs Pergament—eine deutliche Veranderung in der Erwartungshaltung des lateinische Poesie rezipierenden Publikums! Im 12. Jahrhundert schwillt der Chor der 'unphilosophischen' Dichtung immer machtiger an—und wird die Reaktion der viri seriosi immer gereizter. Es ist charakteristisch, dass Alanus ab Insulis dem illegitimen Sohn von Venus und Antigenius den Namen 'locus' gibt. locus ist fur ihn alles andere als harmlose Heiterkeit; iocus ist die verantwortungslose Befriedigung von voluptas, und so wird auch verstandlich, dass Alanus glaubt, selbst seine Darstellung des Amor im De Planctu Naturae, weil in Gedichtform abgefasst, entschuldigen zu miissen: 'Die oben angefuhrte Biihnenrede, die mit der Ziigellosigkeit der SpaBmacher ausschweifte, wird deiner Jugendlichkeit zuliebe dir als Speise vorgesetzt. Jetzt soil der Griffel, der ein wenig zu den knabenhaft-

38

De cena Cypriani IV 11 sq.: 'Temporibus musam mutat sine labe poeta: Nunc hilarem populum musa iocosa beat.' 39 'Dekctatio' und 'utilitas'. Ein Beitrag zum Verstandnis mittelalterlicher komischer Literatur (Bern/Miinchen 1975). 40 Z. 19: 'Ludendum magis est, dominum quam sit rogitandum?'—Ich schreibe den Prolog Bischof Erkanbald von StraBburg (965-991) zu. 41 Z. 1226f.: 'Nimirum sapere est abiectis utile nugis Et tenipestivum psalmis concedere ludum.' 42 Z. 39f.: 'Hec ego dissolvam raram si pono fabellam. Confiteor culpam: mendosam profero cartam.' ('Diese Regel [der Zuverlassigkeit] durchbreche ich, wenn ich hier eine keineswegs solide Erzahlung vortrage. Ich gestehe offen meine Schuld: Ich lege eine gefalschte Urkunde vor.').

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frivolen SpaBen deiner Kindlichkeit abschweifte, zurn ernsten Thema der geplanten Darstellung zuriickkehren.'43 Bereits das 13. Jahrhundert kehrte zur vollkommenen Seriositat zuriick. In seiner Summa theologiae kommt Thomas von Aquin zweimal auf die Dichtkunst zu sprechen, in I q. 1 a. 9 und in I Ilae q. 101 a. 2. Im ersten Fall erklart er, dass die Poesie, 'que est infima inter omnes doctrinas', sich der Metaphern bedient wegen des Ergotzens, die Theologie hingegen aus Griinden der Notwendigkeit und Niitzlichkeit.44 An der zweiten Stelle rechtfertigt er Symbolhandlungen im Gottesdienst. Diese seien nicht mit Theater und Dichtung zu verwechseln; denn dichterische Inhalte bediirfen der Sinnbilder aus Mangel an innerer Wahrheit, der Kult hingegen, weil er es mit der unfassbaren Wahrheit des Gottlichen zu tun habe.45 Ob der hi. Thomas mit dieser Aussage der Dichtung gerecht wird, darf bezweifelt werden. Klar ist jedoch, dass sie ihn als Problem nicht interessiert— ein groBerer Triumph der Philosophic/Theologie ist nicht denkbar. Im Spatmittelalter hat somit die Philosophic die Schlacht gewonnen—aber auf lange Sicht hat sie den Krieg verloren. Das der menschlichen Natur eingeschriebene Verlangen nach dem delectabile lieB sich nicht auf Dauer unterdriicken.46 So forderte denn die humanistische Bewegung das Recht des Lustvollen in der Literatur mit Macht ein. Wir kennen die Widerstande, die sich dagegen erhoben. Boccaccio fiihlte sich im 14. Buch der Genealogiae deomm gentilium genotigt, die Dichtkunst zu verteidigen, und noch nach der Mitte 43 Kap. 10:17-20 (ed. N. Haring, Studi Medievali, 3a ser., 19 (1978), 797-879): Tredicta igitur theatralis oratio, ioculatoriis euagata lasciuiis, tue puerilitati pro ferculo propinatur. Nunc stilus, paululum ad pueriles tue infantie fescenninas digressus, ad seriale prefinite narrationis propositum reuertatur.'—Natiirlich lasst sich Alans Haltung gegeniiber der Dichtung nicht auf die—Boethius entlehnte—Gleichung poesia - theatralis oratio/ioculatoria lascivia reduzieren, wie P. Bourgain, La conception de la philosophic, gezeigt hat. Doch sollte die an der zitierten Stelle zum Ausdruck kommende negative Wertung nicht aus der Diskussion ausgeschieden werden. 44 'Poeta utitur metaphoris propter representationem: representatio enim naturaliter homini delectabilis est. Sed sacra doctrina utitur metaphoris propter necessitatem et utilitatem.' te 'Sicut poetica non capiuntur a ratione humana propter defectum veritatis, qui in eis est, ita etiam ratio humana perfecte capere non potest divina propter excedentem ipsorum veritatem.' 46 Auch Platon hatte seine rigorosen Forderungen quasi contre coeur aufgestellt: Politeia 607c: f| yap, (b (p(Xe, OTJ Kt|Xei we' ofu-cfjq KOI CTU, Kai ixdAAcrca otav 81' Ofiripou GecopTiq a\>xi\v: ('Nicht wahr, Freund, zieht sie [= die Lust bereitende Dichtung] dich nicht auch an, und am meisten, wenn sie im Homeros erscheint?').

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des 15. Jahrhunderts sah sich der Augsburger Patrizier Sigismund Gossembrot4' gezwungen, AngrifTen auf die Dichtkunst entgegenzutreten.48 Ahnlich hatte Jacob Locher (Philomusos)49 sich 1509 mit Gedichten zur Wehr zu setzen contra fmrem ordinis Dominici ad Ingolstat locutum furiose contra poetas.30 Aber das waren Riickzugsgefechte, die den Lauf der Geschichte nicht mehr entscheidend veranderten. Der iocus setzte sich in der Folgezeit—auch gegen puritanischen Widerspruch—durch, auBerhalb des literarischen Bereichs noch entschiedener als innerhalb, so dass in der zeitgenossischen Jugendkultur das 'SpaB haben' fast zum Lebensinhalt geworden ist. Vielleicht ware es aber gar nicht so schlecht, wenn sich dem wieder ein bisschen philosophischer seriositas hinzugesellen wiirde.

47 Dazu F. Worstbrock, 'Gossembrot, Sigismund', in Die deutsche Literatur des Mittelalters. Verfasserlexikon, III (1981, 2. Aiiflage), S. 105-108. 48 HS Miinchen, Bayerischen Staatsbibliothek, Clm 3941, enthalt auf fol. 163 169 das 1458 geschriebene responsum des Wiener Theologieprofessors Konrad Soldner an Gossembrot invehens in poetriae defensores theologiamque defendens und auf fol. 75—77 derselben Handschrift steht Gossembrots 1466 geschriebene epistola ad mag. Ludovicum de Dringenberg scolarum rectorem in Schletztstat in defensionem poetarum ne penes vulgare proverbium mendaces opinentur. 49 Vgl. W. Kiihlmann, 'Locher, Jacob', in W. Killy (Hg.), Literaturkxikon VII (1990), S. 317-318. 50 Clm 24835, fol. 118-120.

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LEDA AND THE SWAN: THE UNBEARABLE MATTER OF BLISS Marina Warner

In the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, the 'instructive romance" of Francesco Colonna published by Aldus Manutius in Venice in 1499, the protagonist becomes the privileged spectator at a series of four triumphs: the chariots, encrusted with gems and intaglios and arrayed in rich marbles with magical properties, are fabulously and extensively described, the author giving happy rein to his very particular combination of sybarite relish and accumulative pedantry. The first triumphal car is being pulled by 'six lusty centaurs' ridden by musician nymphs; its centrepiece features Europa, carried off by the bull. On the second triumphal chariot, the side panels show a nativity scene; like many Renaissance images of the birth of a saint or hero (John the Baptist, for example; Saint Anne giving birth to Mary), it is set in a contemporary bedroom with midwives and helpers gathered around. In this case, the mother has laid two eggs: 'there issued from one egg a little flame, and from the other two bright stars.'2 On the corresponding panel on the car's other side, the attendants are depicted carrying off the eggs to a temple of Apollo and praying to the oracle for the meaning of this portent. The enigmatic answer comes: 'Uni gratum mare alterum gratum man' ('One loves the sea; the sea loves the other').3 This second triumphal chariot, drawn 1 Peter Dronke, Introduction to facsimile of Francesco Colonna, Hypnerotomachia Poliphili (Zaragoza 1981) ((Colleccion Mnemosine 1), pp. 7-75, at p. 24 (reprinted in id. Sources of Inspiration. Studies in Literary Transformations, 400-1500 (Rome 1997) (Storia e letteratura: Studi e Testi 196), pp. 161-240 as 'Francesco Colonna's Hypnerotomachia and its Sources of Inspiration': this quotation, p. 179). 2 Francesco Colonna, Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, ed. and trans. J. Godwin (London 2000), p. 164. 3 Colonna, Hypnerotomachia, p. 164. ''Uni gratum mare alterum gratum man': I wonder if it is possible that the engraver omitted letters, and that the message should read 'Uni gratum amare alterum gratum amari'? This does not entirely fit the destinies of Helen and Clytemnestra, but could possibly refer to the selfless refusal of Pollux to enjoy immortality if Castor was denied it. The flame rising from the egg does not point forward to burning Troy, but rather evokes the pointed flames of a torch of victory, or a heart on fire.

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by six bejewelled and betasselled white elephants, is crowned by a tableau vivant of Leda and the swan: 'The swan was kissing her with its divine beak; its wings were down, covering the bare parts of the noble lady, as with divine and voluptuous pleasure the two of them united in their delectable sport. . . Nothing was lacking to contribute to the increase of delight.' This erotic performance, the author continues, 'gave especial pleasure to the onlookers, who responded with praise and applause.'4 After Leda, the pageant of Jupiter's loves and, by implication, the triumph of Love, or Cupid, continues with a car on which another nymph appears, 'extremely happy to see drops of gold falling into her virginal lap.'5 After this, anonymous invocation of Danae, it is the turn of Semele, also unnamed, to bring to a close the theatrical procession and this chapter in Colonna/Poliphilo's extended and often anguished meditation on the mysteries of love. Regarding the band of youths dancing and singing near the pageant, the author exclaims, 'I would have dared, almost, to utter a foolish thought: that the infernal spirits suffer no other torment than envy of those here.'6 The trope of the triumphal pageant is related to ekphrasis, and indeed, while Colonna/Poliphilo is clear that the side panels of the chariots are images, the narrative does more than imply that the figures on top are acting and moving: only the most ingenious of automata could return the swan's caresses. Yet the lovers' lifelikeness could remain an impression made on the beholders through the dazzling enargeia of the images, as vivid and highly wrought as the caparisons and trappings of the vehicles. The indeterminacy is important: it helps to communicate the dream state of the teller, and of all the people and things he sees. But as ambiguous ekphrasis, suspended in the oneiric state beyond both the reality of artefacts and the actuality of experience, Poliphilo's vision interestingly echoes two earlier, comparable sequences about Jupiter's dalliance: the scenes woven into the tapestry of Arachne in The Metamorphoses of Ovid, and the procession of shades of dead lovers whom Odysseus encounters in the underworld. * Colonna, Hypnerotomachia, p. 166. Leda is identified here as 'Theseus' daughter', which is perhaps a misprint of the typesetter, or simply a mistake on the part of the author, for Thestios' daughter. See Apollodorus, The Library of Greek Mythokgy, trans. Robin Hard (Oxford 1997), 120-1. 0 Colonna, Hypnerotomachia, p. 167. 6 Dronke, Introduction, p. 40.

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Cornells Bos, after Michelangelo, 'Leda and the Swan'. © Copyright The British Museum, London.

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When Arachne defies Minerva, the goddess in high fury challenges the brilliant human weaver to a contest of skills. She traces in her web stories of Olympian feats, followed by examples of mortal hubris and their dire consequences. Arachne, by contrast—her spirit unbroken by the incensed goddess—embroiders her tapestry with a seemingly infinite series of gods' rapes in a variety of shifting shapes. The loves of Jupiter begin the sequence, with Leda 'reclining under the swan's wings'7—a pose elaborated but nevertheless reprised in Colonna's tableau. This single phrase is the only mention of Leda's story in the whole of the Metamorphoses, an economy which comes as a surprise considering the importance of Ovid in the humanist transmission of tales of divine metamorphosis and the remarkable recurrence of Leda as a figure in the Renaissance imagination, as I hope to show. Whereas Daphne inspires one of the poet's most poignant and vibrant dramatic passages, Leda is only referred to, within the story of Arachne's transformation, as part of a living, fabricated image spun from the fingers of a defiant young woman. Arachne includes several more episodes in her 'gallery of divine indiscretions'8—including unremarked seductions of Neptune, Apollo, Bacchus and even Saturn, and the work is so accomplished that 'You would have thought that the bull was a live one, and that the waves were real waves.'9 But Minerva tears Arachne's work to pieces, and hits her over the head with her 'shuttle of Cytorian boxwood' (sounds harder than hard: Ovid being precise on the details).10 Arachne, in shame and despair at the goddess's assault, begins to hang herself. Through pity then, Ovid writes, Minerva sprinkles her with some juice of Hecate's and changes her into a spider to dangle and spin as it were for ever: metamorphosis as a form of talion, but better to be an insect than a corpse. The poet draws no conclusions from Arachne's defeat; however, the move from Minerva's depiction of revenge punishments on humans who presume against the gods, to Arachne's vivid narration of divine deceptions and disguises, with its repeated use of the word 'to trick', evince his ironical stance towards the Olympians. He also shows sympathy for his protagonist and evident admiration for her skill and 7

Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book VI, trans. Mary M. Innes (Harmondsworth 1973; first published 1955), p. 137. 8 Ted Hughes, 'Arachne', in Tales from Ovid (London 1997), pp. 174-82. 9 Ovid, Metamorphoses, 1. 137. 10 Ovid, Metamorphoses, 11. 137-8.

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'her fine show of spirit'.11 Furthermore, he tellingly does not award the palm to the goddess, thus leaving the clear possibility that Arachne's web surpassed Minerva's. In their battle of wits, Leda, as a marginal participant in this story, takes her place beside many other piteous Ovidian victims of the arbitrary power and antimomian tendency of Jupiter and the other gods. In the Odyssey, among 'the women who had been the wives or the daughters of princes' in the flock of the dead whom Odysseus encounters in Hades, he sees Leda 'wife of Tyndareus, who bore him those stout-hearted twins . . ."2 Homer does not allude to Zeus' change of shape into a swan, or, indeed, to his paternity of Helen and Clytemnestra, but only of the male twins, Castor and Polydeuces; and he singles out for remark their special privilege: 'each is a living and a dead man on alternate days, and they are honoured like the gods."3 That Leda is mortal, and her mortality attested by no less a source than Homer also comes as a surprise; unlike other protagonists in tales of metamorphosis (Callisto, for example), her story does not climax in a catasterism, or another exalted alteration. Leda does not herself metamorphose, but dies, and appears to Odysseus in Hades, where the hero hears one of her sister shades, Tyro, tell how she was seduced by Poseidon, who said to her 'Lady . . . be happy in this love of ours, and as the year completes its course, since a god's embrace is never fruitless, you will give birth to beautiful children . . ."4 The concourse of female shades in the Underworld, solemnly praised and honoured by the hero and the poet, are identified through their consorts, however casual or violent, and through the inevitable fruits of divine unions. The apparitions of the Homeric underworld are not exactly recapitulated by Arachne, nor, later, by Colonna, but, as ghosts, they partake of their later reappearances' insubstantial character; the phantoms whom Odysseus cannot touch, cannot feel, as he discovers when he tries to embrace his mother, exist in an analogous, imaginary, unfleshed dimension to Poliphilo's dream pageants, and Arachne's

11

Ovid, Metamorphoses, I 138. Homer, The Odyssey, trans. E. V. Rieu (Harmondsworth 1982; first published 1946), Book XI, 1. 179. 13 Homer, Odyssey, 1. 179. 14 Homer, Odyssey, 11. 177-8. 12

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embroideries: they appear to be alive, but it is a mere semblance: they are become insubstantial. The images are figments, the shades similar illusions of presence. With regard to the story of Leda and the swan, this concept of the figment and the related questions about a figment's status, can help to yield new insights into the famous story of Zeus' metamorphosis, and its later variations. For the swan and the egg are linked, as symbols, within a history of ideas about quickening into life, about the infusion of form into matter and the activity of spirit in generation: this is a myth about making, about materialization, and it correspondingly inhabits rhetorical and narrative modes where language is doing the work of making the real, of making it up, and drawing attention to the powers of words—and by extension, of images— to bring things into being. The god Zeus/Jupiter, generating life, operates as a fictive agent, and in performing these acts of creation, he demonstrates his power of fashioning himself into now an animal, now a bull, now a cloud or a shower of gold—into figments of himself. It is suggestive that the scenes of these transformations are so frequently celebrated in the form of artifacts, not real events, as if the poets intuited the correspondence between metaphor's work of metamorphosis and the gods' changes of shape.15 Dronke emphasizes Poliphilo/Colonna's poetic elusiveness, and the eggs, one with a flame and the other with stars, that are laid in the images on Leda's triumphal car are not identified; however the stars might allude to Castor and Pollux' translation to the heavens, while the flame might possibly look forward to the fatal future of Helen and Clytemnestra, as Yeats does in his famous sonnet Leda and the Swan (1923): A shudder in the loins engenders there The broken wall, the burning roof and tower And Agamemnon dead.16 The oracle's pronouncement does not however help to confirm this, and remains properly a riddle. However, the unfolding of the mystery, from the laying of the eggs, their being offered at the temple and the hints of their future destiny can help illuminate compara-

15 Spenser in The Faerie Queene also describes the loves of Jupiter as depicted, on a tapestry: see Book III, Canto XI, 11. 28-46. 16 The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats (London 1973), 241.

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ble enigmas about generation and spirit that are present in later, famous Italian Renaissance paintings of Leda and the Swan by Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Correggio. In the Hypnerotomachia, the lovers are eventually united in the temple of Venus of Living Nature, Venus Physizoa, and, as Edgar Wind noted, several years ago, the story of Leda in Colonna's romance occurs in a sequence of theogamies allegorizing the elements 'subject to the physizoa Venere': namely, Europa, Earth, Leda, Water, Danae, Air and Semele, Fire."7 (I would switch two of these identifications: it seems to me, that Danae belongs to the element of water, even though Jupiter descends on her from on high, and Leda to the airy element, for reasons I give below.) Wind also pointed out that this comparatively rare epithet, physizoos describes the Dioscuri in both the Odyssey and the Iliad. Hatched from the shell, the twins are somehow doubly made of living natural matter, combining physis and zoon', they are, in today's imagery, authentic, guaranteed organic material. In the temple of Venus Physizoa, during the liturgy which plights Poliphilo to his true love Polia at last, the priestess sacrifices a pair of swans, the bird that provides the goddess with her airborne mount in classical Greek art, that in widespread cultures is thought—like the stork—to bring babies, and whose dying song associates it with love.18 The engraving in the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili precedes the dates suggested both for the beginning of Leonardo's interest in Leda (1504) and Michelangelo's lost painting (1529-30), although Michelangelo's reclining nude, covered by the swan who is billing her lips with his beak, bears more than a little resemblance to the Poliphilo image.19 The kiss was depicted in this way on several antique reliefs and gems that were known at the time, so the similarity is perhaps not worth remarking.20 The painting in the National Gallery in London,

17

E. Wind, Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance (Harmondsworth 1967; first published 1958), p. 168. 18 On the symbolism of swans, see J. Chevalier - A. Gheerbrant, Dictionnaire des symboles (Paris 1975), pp. 172~5; G. de Tervarent, Attributs de symboles dans I'art profane: Dictionnaire d'un langage perdu (1450-1600) (Paris 1997), pp. 332-4. 19 See J. Wilde, 'Notes on the Genesis of Michelangelo's Leda', in Fritz Saxl: Memorial Essays, ed. D. J. Gordon (London 1957), pp. 270-80; M. Hirst, Michelangelo and His Drawings (New Haven-London 1988), pp. 73-4. 20 Cf. P. Bober and R. Rubinstein, Renaissance Artists and Antique Sculpture: A Handbook of Sources (London 1986).

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attributed to Michelangelo, very badly rubbed, and almost certainly not by his hand, does not show the eggs Leda has laid, but the magnificently drawn engraving after Michelangelo by Cornelis Bos in the British Museum includes one unbroken shell, transparently revealing Helen curled up within, foetus-like, while behind this first egg, a second has hatched the twins Castor and Pollux. The light falls on one of the boy babies in the background, while his twin, behind him, stands in shadow, as if hinting at their alternating mortality and immortality in the future. This engraving reveals Michelangelo's Leda as a powerfully muscled androgyne, in her heavy recumbency very close to the monumental figure of Night on the Medici tombs; she lies in an arc, tightly intertwined with the bird's wings (wonderfully conveyed by Bos's drawing—every feather aquiver), her head fallen forwards in slumber, and her left arm falling languidly, as if she were dreaming the swan's presence, not assaulted by him (see p. 265). Leonardo's interest in the theme developed into two compositions, one showing Leda on one knee in the position of a classical Venus anadyomene, the other showing her standing, beguilingly musing with downcast eyes, at the sight of her babies, who have hatched at her feet. The swan extends a wing to cradle her and she twists her body into his downy serpentine curves. The paintings are both lost—if the artist ever painted one at all (Berenson thinks he may not have taken the idea further than a cartoon),21 but several epigones interpreted the drawings, and the naked Leda is accompanied in these strange pictures by her hatchlings, one pair of twins or, sometimes, two pairs of twins playing on the flowery meadow under her feet. Martin Kemp comments, 'The Leda and the Lady [a portrait on which Leonardo was also working in 1507] express two sides of the macrocosmic coin: the procreative powers of all living things; and the circulatory processes of "vivification" which arise from natural flux.'22 The general point about generation and quickening, about Leda's relationship to erotic mystery and natural forces, can be nuanced, I think, by looking more closely at the bird and egg imagery in Leda's story and its connections to the wider view of hatching and meta-

21 B. Berenson, The Drawings of the Florentine Painters (Chicago 1970; 3 vols.; first published 1938), I, p. 180. 22 M. Kemp, Leonardo da Vinci. The Marvellous Works of Nature and Man (London 1981), p. 277.

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morphosis. Doubling structures her myth with almost comic plenitude: two eggs with two pairs of twins, in either matching pairs (twin boys, twin girls), or, more commonly, in contrasted pairs (the mortal Castor and Clytemnestra from one egg, the immortal Pollux and Helen from the other). Furthermore, in the version given by Apollodorus in The Library, Leda herself is a substitute, a double, who becomes the twins' mother after the goddess Nemesis, pursued and raped by Zeus, gives the egg into her care. Nemesis changed herself into a goose to fly from the god, but taking on the shape of a swan he flew after her and pinned her down. Nemesis then dropped the egg in the lap of Leda, who slept with her husband Tyndareus on the same night; she then bore one pair of human children to him, and raised the other divine progeny of Zeus as her own. This twist provides an explanation for the human mortality of two of the siblings (Castor and Clytemnestra) and the immortality of Helen and Pollux. Euripides' Helen refers to this story, but in terms that throw suspicion on its veracity: like a celebrity picked over by a scandalsheet, she seems to set it aside as fantasy, and calls herself Tyndareus' daughter.23 Hyginus also reports this version, but cannot decide which of the four children are Tyndareus': he also makes him Helen's father as well at one point. When he tells the story of Nemesis, he concludes, 'Other say that Jove, in the form of a swan, lay with Leda. We shall leave the matter undecided.'24 Several vase paintings show Leda discovering the egg, sometimes with Tyndareus observing from the sidelines, looking sceptical and raising his arms in exclamation.25 All this confusion is itself fruitful, however—it reveals that the myth's oddity persisted and that the idea of a human woman laying eggs after mating with a swan could not settle into a fixed form; the mythographers worried at it ('we shall leave the matter undecided') because it displays those fantastic and uncouth features that 23

Helen says: 'There is you know, a legend which says that Zeus took the feathered form of a swan, and that being pursued by an eagle and flying for refuge to the bosom of my mother Leda, he used this deceit to accomplish his desire upon her. That is the story of my origin—if it is true.' Euripides, Helen in The Bacchae and Other Plays, trans. Philip Vellacott (Harmondsworth 1972; first published 1954), pp. 135-6. 24 Hyginus, Poetica Astronomica, ed. and trans. Mary Grant (Lawrence 1960), pp. 73-6, 193-4. 23 See L. Kahil, N. Icard-Gianolio, 'Leda' in Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae [abbreviation: UMC\, VI, 1 (Zurich-Munich 1992), pp. 231-46, II, Pis. 1-133.

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Plato despised in 'old wives' tales'; it also disobeys the congruity of analogous, animal metamorphoses. For example, Hyginus includes an episode that Arachne wove in her tapestry, when Saturn changed himself into a horse to unite with Philyra, and she subsequently gave birth to the centaur Chiron. He adds that when Philyra saw 'that she had borne a strange species, she asked Jove to change her into another form, and she was transformed into the tree which is the linden.'26 This suite of events possesses an intuitive and even biological logic, structured by the animal motifs and personal violence in the story, which remains altogether missing from the incongruous, often insouciant (and undeveloped) story of Leda and the swan in extant, classical texts. But the mysterious progeny of Leda also conveys a love of difference, contained and unified, a glorying in the permutation of opposites, and the multiplication of possibility. Leonardo's fecund nude appears to promise goodness from sexual union and natural processes such as fertilization and division; the imagery defies sin, reconciles contraries, announces bounty, and praises beauty and its effects. The blossoming earth, the moist, fertile ground, the gambolling pairs of hatchlings out of their eggshells, the docile and still lovestruck swan in Leda's encircling arm of Leonardo's vision (as conveyed by the 'copy' at Wilton House, or the Sodoma 'copy' in the Borghese Gallery, Rome)27 communicate a dream of unstained plenitude, embodied by a Venus Physizoa at harmony in natural creation. Yet this naked woman is not unadorned: her elaborate coiffure, an intertwining of braids and curls elaborately drawn by Leonardo in his notebooks from the back as well as the front, betokens the cosmetic self-fashioning, the artistry that accompanies pristine female beauty, as it does in the Hesiodic description of Pandora's coming into being. From sexual encounter to blessed, fertile and aesthetic physical harmony, Leda and the swan offer a poetic theophany of beauty triumphant in the earthly paradise. In an article about Eriugena's utopianism, Peter Dronke cites Jean Jolivet's gloss on 'Gramision', the name of the earthly paradise in Bernard Silvestris' Cosmographia: 'Gramision is not only a grassy place, but a little womb: Bernard is playing upon the word gremium, adding 26

Hyginus, Fabula 138, ed. and trans. Mary Grant (Lawrence 1960), pp. 114-5. Kemp considers the Wilton House version 'probably as close as any to Leonardo's original': Kemp, Leonardo, p. 275. 27

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the diminutive ending -sion imitated from the Greek. The great womb is that of Silva, the receptacle and nurse of becoming; the little womb is the earthly paradise.'28 Whereas Eriugena was very little known between the thirteenth and seventeenth centuries, the Cosmographia was very widely read in the later Middle Ages. Could Bernard Silvestris' imaginary Gramision have been known to Leonardo, for example? Martin Kemp does not mention Bernard Silvestris as represented in his library. Nevertheless, it is worth setting aside the evident lasciviousness of many artifacts inspired by Leda to look at the myth in this more subtly erotic poetic tradition of fecundity and harmony. If the theogamies of Zeus/Jupiter with nymphs such as Leda are not aligned with metamorphosis as translation between species, but more with metamorphosis as the vital principle of creation, these erotic mysteries can be understood differently, and their elemental character linked to different manifestations of the life force, and thence, to different theories of insemination: the swan, a creature of the airy element, breathes life into Leda's womb when he kisses her with his beak, while Danae receives the god in the form of fertilizing moisture, falling in golden dew. The changes of shape that hold Ovid's full poetic attention offer aetiologies for stable life forms— Daphne the laurel tree, Arachne the spider, Philomela the nightingale. By contrast, Jupiter's shape-shifting and disguises might be seen as belonging to a different category of metamorphosis, to natural mutability and organic development. This is a form of transformation with which Ovid is indeed concerned, but it provides a persistent underlying thematic in his Pythagorean account of nature, rather than inspiring episodes of exceptional, dramatic intensity, when abruptly and supernaturally, one being is altogether, permanently changed into another: Tereus into a hoopoe, Callisto into a bear. The idea of breathing life into forms, conveyed by the billing of the swan, provides the metaphor for the creation of Adam: 'He breathed into his nostrils a breath of life and thus man became a living being.' (Gen 2:7)29 But there is a further step taken in the myth of Leda, 28 J. Jolivet, 'Les principes feminins dans la Cosmographia de Bernard Silvestre' in L'homme et son unwers au moyen age, I, ed. C. Wenin (Louvain-la-Neuve 1986), pp. 296—305, quoted Peter Dronke, 'Eriugena's Earthly Paradise', in Begriff und Metapher Sprachform des Denkens bei Eriugena (Heidelberg 1990), pp. 213-229 at pp. 227-8. 29 Compare also the animation of Pandora, in Hesiod, Theogony, ed. M. West (Oxford 1966), 11. 572 ff., 133, 326.

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for she is not herself animated by the airy creature, but fertilized; here, the myth seems to me attentive to the biology of birds and imaginatively cogent, for the male bird does indeed quicken otherwise sterile eggs that, in contradistinction from human progeny, can be birthed—laid—but do not hatch. The Renaissance artists who were inspired by Leda's myth need not have read Bernard Silvestris or Eriugena to find in her wondrous maternity a model of miraculous but natural fecundity: the activity of the Holy Spirit, most commonly manifest in the shape of a bird, quickened Mary's womb according to the central tenet of the Incarnation. Medieval images of the Annunciation vary in their representation of the beam emitted by the bird, and its point of contact with Mary's virgin body. Occasionally, as in a Nottingham alabaster in the Ashmolean, Oxford, the bird's beak touches Mary's lips, to infuse her with the life force. In a Coronation of the Virgin by the Rubielos Master in the Cleveland Museum of Art, the large, pneumatically firm, white bird is descending, headlong, each outstretched wingtip touching the mouth of God the Father on Mary's left and God the Son on Mary's right; this is an unusual depiction of the Trinity, suggesting the Holy Spirit conjoins the other two Persons, as breath issuing from their lips. Noting the popularity of Leda and the swan in the sculpture and painting of Christian Egypt, Lilly Kahil and Pascale Linant de Bellefonds comment that the analogy with the Holy Ghost probably helped the pagan myth's survival.30 However, even if the resemblance was serenely accepted and enjoyed by Christian Copts in Alexandria, it was certainly rejected by Christian authorities, and it would be a mistake to see Leonardo's and Michelangelo's potent erotic visions as anything but profound, even scandalous challenges to the Christian doctrine of the virgin birth. W. B. Yeats, in a poem written several years after 'Leda and the Swan' openly, even swaggeringly, seized the blasphemous analogy, and evoked 'The Mother of God' suffering a violent assault from a bird. Three times he uses the word 'terror' to express the conception of the saviour: The threefold terror of love; a fallen flare Through the hollow of an ear;

L. Kahil - P. Linant de Bellefonds, LJMC VI, 1, p. 246.

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Wings beating about the room; The terror of all terrors that I bore The Heavens in my womb.31 But while Yeats's powerful fantasy reveals symbolic principles at work in both myths (the dove, like the swan, was sacred to Aphrodite/Venus), it has the effect of obscuring differences to which the Renaissance interpreters were certainly alive. The earthly paradise is strictly earthly, and Leda, as a type of Venus Physizoa, also represents the fallen world of unredeemed creatureliness, where virginity is not prized and grace other than the physical set aside. The preparatory drawings of Leda by Leonardo and the subsequent painted 'copies' eeriely mirror both the child playmates and the deep, knowingly exchanged glances of Mary and Anne in the National Gallery cartoon of The Virgin and Child with Saint Anne and John the Baptist, drawn in 1506/8, during the period when Leonardo was also thinking about the Leda. This subtle correspondence begins to tell another story of doubles: Leda becomes Mary's shadow, her dark twin, her naked and unashamed alter ego, who has known sex and parturition; whereas Saint Anne points heavenwards, in the manner of a sibyl in the cartoon, the paintings show Leda's paradise as grounded, her bare feet in the damp, fertile greensward, her babies gambolling on the earth. It is a place where creatures live in harmony and fertility, an earthly paradise continuing after the Fall, in apparent ignorance of its consequences: an Eden without grace, or God, or any transcendent dimension at all. One of the marks of this fallen condition is metamorphosis itself: the hybridity of the twins' origins, their defiance of the laws of human reproduction (of like from like) assign them to that shifting, contrary realm of devilish mischief and bricolage, of combinatory monsters and mixed species. In the National Gallery of Prague, an unusual painting of Saint Christopher, from the circle of the Master of Frankfurt, shows a sable-skinned homunculus hatching upside down from an eggshell at the giant's feet; this startling gryllus' appearance is echoed in sixteenth and seventeenth century votive woodcuts depicting the

31 Ed. cit., p. 281; see E. Larissy, W. B. Teats (Plymouth 1998), p. 51; also E. Cullingford, Gender and History in Yeats' Love Poetry (Cambridge 1993), pp. 140-64 for a highly perceptive historical essay on the political and social context in which Yeats wrote these lyrics.

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popular patron of travelers and ferrymen.32 As Christopher fords the stream with the Christ Child on his shoulders, he sometimes scatters a host of imps and goblins (as in a woodcut by Alart du Hameel, after Bosch) or is observed as he wades by a mermaid or triton; such pagan monsters and hybrid creatures, whose hour has come with this miraculous epiphany, attest his own past as an outcast— his name was Reprobus, the Golden Legend tells us.33 The wilder offshoots of his legend describe him in his previous life as a dogheaded cannibal himself, who before his conversion to the true faith could only bark like a Patagonian giant or a subhuman beast. (He is even sometimes depicted in this form, when he resembles Anubis, a more ancient ferryman.) But the example of the devilish sprite wriggling out of an egg in the painting of course strikes a powerful resonance with Hieronymus Bosch, who populated his visions of hell and temptation with hatchlings of various orders, proportions and assorted limbs. In some instances, these fantastical semi-comic, semihorrific inventions are still wearing their shells, as snails do, or crabs. As this imagery reveals, in numerous fantastical flights of imagination by Breughel and other fantasists, the physiology of birds, the marvel of eggs and of hatching, in short the processes of avian generation, belonged, like the metamorphosis of insects and the selfrenewal of reptiles and serpents, to the repertory of medieval and Renaissance depictions of hell's instability, flux, miscegenation and zoomorphic mayhem. In such nightmares, grown men walk on all fours inside cracked shells; lovers mate inside eggs, and witches and hobgoblins ride in half-cups (the superstition still survives that one should always crack the bottom of an eggshell to prevent witches putting out to sea in them to raise storms). This is not the place to speculate on the imagery's meaning for Bosch, for it would lead me into a labyrinth with no ball of thread to help my way. But it is worth drawing attention to the disquieting scent of heathenism, devilry and illicit pleasure that hangs around the idea of this most central and natural of metamorphoses (egg into chick). Edgar Wind, discussing Marsilio Ficino's struggles with the

32

A drawing in the Louvre, Paris, attributed to a follower of Van Eyck, resembles this painting very closely, and so postulates an older model. See Chefs-d'oeuvres de Prague 1450-1750. Trois siecles de peinture Flamande et Hollandaise (Bruges 1974), pp. 24~5. 33 Jacopus de Voragine, The Golden Legend Readings on the Saints, XI (Princeton 1993), trans. W. Ryan, p. 10.

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often salacious if not obscene episodes in pagan myth, invokes his celebrated Neoplatonist argument that such profane images concealed sacred mysteries. 'The eggs of Leda,' writes Wind, 'belong to the genre of sacred drolerie. . .'34 But there is another context in which the eggs of Leda can be placed, which also demarcates it as a story that defied cherished values of Christian teaching and instituted another order in their place. In the twelfth century, Moscus, the author of the Turba Philosophorum, went so far as to specify the primordial egg as 'first that of a crow, and then the egg of a swan'. As the model for obtaining the longedfor philosopher's stone, alchemists preferred to invoke the egg and its development rather than the gestatory cycle of human reproduction: 'the interior fire of matter, excited by the outer fire, just as the interior fire of the egg, excited by the heat of the hen, becomes reanimated little by little and gives life to the matter of which it is the soul, from which the philosophical child is born . . .'3a Incubation offered a more appropriate metaphor than parturition for the particular transformation of matter at which they aimed: the texts reverberate with paeans to yolks and albumen and their potentiality. The eggshell itself becomes the metonymic vehicle of the alchemical process, the gourd-shaped vessel in which the raw matter is cooked and changed. 'The philosopher's egg . . . is Nature's vessel . . . even during putrefaction . . ,'36 This viewpoint engages with metamorphosis as part of the cycle of nature, an inherent energy directing growth in all things and in all directions, from emergence to decay; change here is not sudden, extreme or willed, but a material and organic cause and effect. However, the field of alchemy is so overgrown and tangled that I hesitate to try and make a closer map. But it is worth drawing attention to the strangeness of the transparent egg in the engraving by Cornelis Bos after Michelangelo, for it is in alchemical imagery that the egg-shaped vessel in which phenomena are quickened into life is frequently represented as if it were the inner sac, not the outer shell, so that Mercury, or the Sun and Moon can be seen inside it in potential' 34

Wind, Pagan Mysteries, p. 169. ' A.-J. Pernety, Dictionnaire Mytho-Hermetique (Paris 1972; first published 1787), p. 258. 36 Pernety, Dictionnaire, p. 258. 3/ L'Alchimie et son livre muet [Mutus Liber] [La Rochelle, 1677], ed. Eugene Canseliet, Paris 1967, figs. 8,19,11,13; 99-111. 3

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Many painted Ledas have been lost: Michelangelo's quadrone da sala, a large and uncharacteristically sensual picture, displaying all his skill with heroic anatomy, was taken to France, to be offered for purchase to Francois I by one of the artist's gar^oni, Antonio Mini. There it somehow disappeared. The Leonardo seems to have been also taken to France, by the artist in 1516, where it too disappeared at some point after 1625, when Cassiano del Pozzo mentions seeing it. Correggio's Leda suffered an ever harsher fate, in many ways, than vanishing. Commissioned by Federico Gonzaga in Mantua, it was painted around 1531 and passed into the collection of Philip II of Spain. In 1603 Rudolph II of Prague acquired it. Then, as part of the booty carried off by the Swedes in 1648, it finally passed into the hands of the Orleans family in Paris. Louis, son of Philippe, Due d'Orleans, Regent of France during Louis XV's minority (1715-23) was so enraged by the image that he attacked the painting and hacked out Leda's face. It was patched up by the painter Antoine Coypel and others, but art historians are agreed that a copy in the Prado, made before the mutilation, gives a much more convincing account of Correggio's original than the restoration.38 Correggio knew Leonardo's lost Leda, for her standing pose inspired the figure of Venus in his glowingly tender painting in the National Gallery, London, The School of Love.m He also knew Michelangelo's interpretation: drawn copies have been attributed to Correggio. But unlike theirs, Correggio's Leda belongs in a sequence of metamorphoses: she takes her place alongside his Ganymede, 7o, and Danae. He also, interestingly, may have known the Hypnerotomachia, where the subject of the School of Love—Mercury teaching Cupid his letters— appears on the third triumphal car, the one featuring Danae and following Leda, though there Venus is angry with her son and is trying to pluck out his wings.40 According to the evidence of the copy in the Prado, Correggio set aside both artists' compositions, and seated his lovely, girlish Leda facing forward on the ground, acceptingly settling the swan-sized bird between her knees, and steeply inclining her head to the god's approaching beak and quickening

38

It is thought that other painters, including Boucher, may have had a hand in the restoration too. See A. Bevilacqua - A. Quintavalle, L'Opera complete di Correggio, (Milan 1970), pp. 109-10; D. Ekserdjian, Correggio (London 1997), p. 288. 39 Ekserdjian, Correggio, p. 270. 40 Colonna, Hypnerotomachia, p. 169; Ekserdjian, Correggio, p. 269.

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breath. This Leda, like Correggio's Venus from The School of Love., radiates gentle, amorous delight in a pastoral setting; the swan spreading his wings between her knees does not overwhelm her, or cover her, unlike the slumbrous, giant burden enveloping the woman in Michelangelo's postcoital vision. This swan-Jupiter allows Leda to dandle him like a pet; there are no hatchlings, but a gaggle of amormi playing to the left. Correggio was dealing with the myth as a story in time. His Leda appears three times: first approached by the swan as she is bathing; then dandling him in her lap; lastly, the swan flies away on the right as her maid helps her back on with her clothes.41 So he may have been respecting narrative logic, unlike Leonardo and Michelangelo, who stage the simultaneous appearance of the children, surprisingly well grown, at the very moment of sexual union. Lightly, unabashedly, Correggio evokes a material paradise; he does so with less earnest and obvious incursions into biological, theological, scientific or alchemical theories than his predecessors. In the Leda, as in his series of metamorphoses, he was able to communicate, with unaffected gaiety and ease, a sense of reciprocal delight in material creation—and procreation. As a female embodiment of pleasure, as a Venus Physizoa presiding over a postlapsarian state of bliss, his Leda stirred a beholder's righteous frenzy. We may surmise that the vanished Ledas of Leonardo and Michelangelo may also have been figments of love too powerful to resist, too vivid to abide. Poliphilo was perhaps more acute than he knew when he exclaimed, at the sight of the lovers' pleasure, 'I would have dared, almost, to utter a foolish thought: that the infernal spirits suffer no other torment than envy of those here.'42 Correggio was certainly successful in creating, from the unlikely figment of a swan's caresses, an image of serene and unalloyed joy, and it excited a terrible torment of envy in one iconoclast at least.

41 42

Ekserdjian, Correggio, pp. 289-91. Dronke, Introduction, Hypnerotomachia, p. 40.

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INDIVIDUALITY, ORIGINALITY AND THE LITERARY CRITICISM OF MEDIEVAL LATIN TEXTS Haijo Westra

Every human individuality is an Idea rooted in the visible world, and from some individuals this idea shines forth so brightly that it seems to have assumed the form of the individual only in order to reveal itself in it. When we analyse human activity, after removing all determining causes there remains behind in it something original which, instead of being overpowered by their influence, is more likely to transform them.

Wilhelm von Humboldt Individuality and the self are interrelated notions that are problematic in their historical and hermeneutical dimensions, often charged with philosophical biases and ideological issues. Aristotle regarded the variety of human individuals as accidental, a variant combination of universal characteristics, but also admitted an irreducible 'thisness' of the individual being. Plotinus reflects on the differences between individual beings and is the first to value such difference as beautiful. He also posits the fundamental originality of the individual soul: since it has no archetype, it is therefore itself something original and authentic. Moreover, 'every soul, authentically a soul (autopsyche), has some form of Tightness and moral wisdom; in the souls within ourselves there is true knowing' [Enneads V, 9.13 (49)]. Combined with the Platonic and indeed mystical notion of the ascent of the soul, the perfection of the self becomes the brilliant aim and ideal of the philosophical life. As Georg Misch points out in his study of forms of autobiographical writing in antiquity, it is in the Romantic era that the Neo-Platonic ideal returns, but now the godlike soul is incarnated as an Idea operating in the world of (cultural) phenomena.1 In the quotation from Wilhelm von Humboldt at the beginning

1 G. Misch, A History of Autobiography in Antiquity (1950, rept. 1973), Vol. II, 586-593, whence the quotation from Wilhelm von Humboldt at the beginning is derived as well (Werke I, p. 22). Cf. Dictionary of the History of Ideas, pp. 595-6 for Humboldt's ideal of the full and harmonious development of the individual personality as representing humanity and pointing towards its highest cultural development.

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of this article, it is the transformative power of the unique soul working on the limitations of the phenomenal world that is being celebrated, entailing an idea of (limitless) improvement and perfectibility.2 The Romantics also realised the possibility of the fully self-conscious individual reflecting on his selfhood and expressing it in art. Its concomitants, alienation and the tragically divided self, led to quintessentially modern expressions of irony and ambivalence and to new forms of the tragic and the comic. By contrast, the divided authorial persona of ancient Menippean satire reflects an intellectual point of view derived from the Cynics, not a tragic view of human life. In modern political philosophy, the opposition individual v. society became a privileged theme of modernist self-definition, especially in the context of British liberalism as well as in French and American revolutionary thought. Moreover, the individual imagination and its expression in the arts and letters became a celebrated locus of resistance against political and aesthetic dogma in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Totalitarian suppression and censorship by the modern state demonstrated, time and again, the irrepressibility of the individual imagination and creativity and the refractoriness of the aesthetic experience. Individuality and consciousness of the self are fundamental to our society. The freedom of the individual has become a matter of natural law and the primacy of the individual has been inscribed at the top of universal declarations of human rights. Even in post-modernism, where the autonomy of the subject is put to the question or regarded as a fiction altogether, these concepts remain operative.3 2 The idea of improvement seems to be more germane to the ancient notion of the self than the ideas of interiority or of self-control: see C. Markschies, s.v. Innerer Mensch, RAC 18 (Stuttgart 1998), pp. 266-311; cf. C. Taylor, Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (Cambridge, Mass. 1989), esp. Chs. 6 and 7. 3 For responses to Foucault, Deleuze, Derrida and Lyotard, see M. Frank, G. Raulet, and W. van Reyen, eds., Die Frage nach dem Subjekt (Frankfurt 1988). In contemporary continental philosophy, the subject of subjectivity has had a full run, usually as a source of solipsism and epistemological despair, but also in more constructive ways. On the one hand, the irreducible element of subjectivity in interpretation has been hijacked to produce a black hole into which the entire project of western culture is made to disappear. On the other, Lonergan manages to define 'authentic subjectivity' as the process and foundation for making reasoned judgements by the individual. On post-modernist interpretation of history, see G. Himmelfarb, 'Telling It As You Like It: Post-Modernist History and the Flight from Fact', TLS Oct. 16, 1992, pp. 12-15; cf. B. Stock, Listening for the Text: On the Uses of the Past (Baltimore-London 1990), Ch. 4: Literary Discourse and the Social Historian, pp. 75-97.

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Michel Foucault speaks of the freedom and degree of independence of the private individual, the valorisation of private life over public activities, and 'the intensity of relations with respect to the self, by which the individual takes himself in his different dimensions as an object of preoccupation and concern . . . and also the elaboration of the self, the formation of the self using all the mental techniques of attention directed toward the self, self-examination, self-testing, taking one's own bearings . . . self-clarification, self-expression.'4 Historically, the definition and applicability of individuality as a norm or form of self-understanding, let alone as an aesthetic ideal or an actual literary practice, is more problematic. Naturally there is moral introspection and confession of shortcomings of the self in ancient 'autobiographic' texts (Marcus Aurelius), and especially the search for the ideal philosophical self combined with urbane self-revelation (Horace) or witty Selbstspott in apology (Apuleius), even psychomachy and religious auto-psychoanalysis (Aelius Aristides), but it is not until Augustine that we encounter a recognisable concept of the self as a project of 'self-improvement' unfolding in relation to others (mother, father, friends, God), inspired by a religious purpose and conveyed by a concomitant confessional style that aims to leave nothing unsaid.3 Before Augustine, Roman autobiography typically presents no self-expression, only self-justification with an eye to reputation and the continued fame of one's name after this life: it looks forward to death, not back towards life. There is no accounting of the self to the self. The true, unique interior self is not even a complete or worthy subject of examination, as the writings of Cicero demonstrate, but rather the justification of the actions of the individual.6 Any glimpse of the self is really an involuntary, almost accidental self-revelation; voluntary 'confession' serves as captatio benevolentiae. As Misch realised, there is no preoccupation or elaboration or intimacy with the self on the part of the autobiographical author, and no 'intimacy of the self shared with the reader, let alone 'full disclosure' or reckoning. In literary texts, too, the modalities of individual expression in antiquity are profoundly different from those of 4 Le souci de soi (Paris 1984), pp. 56-57, trans. R. Hurley, The Care of the Self (New York 1986), pp. 42-43. 0 On this subject, see B. Stock, Augustine the Reader: Meditation, Self-Knowledge, and the Ethics of Interpretation (Cambridge, Mass. 1996), esp. Ch. 9. 6 Most revealing is Epist. ad Fam. V. xii, to Lucceius, where autobiography is rejected as a genre in which one is expected not to praise nor condemn oneself.

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the Romantic movement: they are not willed expressions of a unique individuality. This difference is fundamental to the alterity of ancient as well as medieval literature and requires further elaboration. Augustine's confession is an exception because it appeals to moderns as authentic and original self-expression; at the same time, however, it alienates because its subject is a relentless abasement and subordination of the self. Nevertheless, the application of the concept of individuality to ancient and medieval literatures is not necessarily anachronistic. Even though the concept/ideal of authentic self-expression did not exist or was not expressly stated, and even though individuality was not expressly stated ideals of aesthetic theory and artistic practice, the phenomenon does occur in literary texts, avant la lettre and in unexpected forms. It is a typically philological mistake to think that, without explicit formulation, the concept does not exist. As Michel Zink has pointed out, medieval spiritual literature is vitally interested in the individual, but for different reasons, namely the salvation of the individual and his relation to God.7 Christianity is a religion of 'interiority' and of self-scrutiny, intimately acquainted with the psychology of penitence. Zink also points out that, in secular literature, the romance hero's quest often entails adventures that lead to a discovery of the self, indeed the adventures themselves (the quest) symbolise this process of discovery of the self. Another apparently anachronistic concept that can be applied is originality. Originality as an ideal is of course connected with the Romantic notion of the original genius of the artist,8 but it can also be used descriptively in a short-hand way for a multitude of phenomena, including what is referred to in reception history and aesthetics as alterity, discontinuity, and changes affecting the 'horizon of expectation'. Originality has the advantage of being phenomenonbased, not dependent on the eliciting of a specific individual from the text, but concerned instead with broader issues affecting medieval Latin literature, such as genre and the interaction between learned

7 M. Zink, La subjectivite litteraire autour du siecle de Saint Louis (Paris 13-16. 8 Ernst Robert Curtius labels this as 'the English theory of original 'Zur Literaeraesthetik des Mittelalters', ^eitschrift fur romanische Philologie pp. 139~140; cf. E. Young's Conjectures upon Original Composition (1759) and Biographia Literaria, IV.

1985), pp. genius' in 58 (1938), Coleridge,

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and popular, written and oral, Latin and vernacular. Such issues can be shown to affect the stylistic and generic choices of individual authors. Probably the best locus for a start of the study of individuality and originality is late antiquity. At this juncture, an entire literary tradition and outlook on life are called into question by a new religion that somehow has to come to terms with them as well. The dilemma is encapsulated by the fact that, when Julian the Apostate banned Christians from teaching in the traditional schools of rhetoric, some thought was given to founding Christian schools, but such a move was doomed surely because of the relative paucity of Christian texts and the overwhelming preponderance of the classical tradition. The early rejection of the (rhetorical) tradition had already been abandoned; Prudentius is probably the best example of the integration of the classical canon and its transformation through processes such as ironic quotation or Kontrastimitation. Originality, then, is from the start constituted as a transformation of the tradition in the reception of antiquity, whether by choice or necessity. The former holds true for the attitude of the Romans towards their Greek models,9 marked as it is by an intense self-consciousness of one's relationship vis-a-vis one's models and their expression, i.e. a preoccupation with the canonical other rather than the authentic self, in a reception process that seeks to emulate the past. By contrast, the Romantic principle of originality constitutes a new 'literary ideology'.10 The Romantic movement represents a fundamental change in the reception of the classical tradition as well as a radical break with the aesthetics of imitatio. From Prudentius we also derive the first Selbstverstandnis of the Christian poet through the presentation of the poetic persona in quasisacerdotal fashion as leader of the chorus while delivering his hymn to St. Eulalia at her grave site (Peristephanon 4.197-200). This is a departure from the thoroughly traditional expressions of self-modesty we also find in Prudentius.11 But in the Epilogue the classical 9 See 1968). 10 M. temporary p. 100. 11 H.

for example G. Williams, Tradition and Originality in Roman Poetry (Cambridge Spariosu, 'Contemporary French Theory', in Spariosu, ed. Mimesis in ConTheory: An Interdisciplinary Approach, I (Philadelphia and Amsterdam 1984) Westra, 'Augustine and Poetic Exegesis', in H. Meynell, ed., Grace, Politics

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modesty topos has been varied and Christianised to introduce pride in the contribution of the poet, however modest a vessel, to the cause of salvation. Through the doctrine of salvation, perfection of the soul has become the project of each individual (author) and of Christendom collectively. The articulation of the Christian authorial self is strikingly original in the work of Egeria, whose personality continually enters her narrative either directly through her involvement in the action of her pilgrimage account and her enthusiasm for her subject or indirectly through her varying stylistic personae. Significantly, she tries to suppress this intrusion of the self (sed ut redeam ad reni), but equally significantly, her personality is irrepressible.12 However, it is undeniable that, in Christian literature, individuality and the understanding, definition, and 'elaboration' of the self are not particularly in evidence as expressed values, except in the mystic's approach to God. But even here the ultimate goal, salvation, entails a loss/death of the self. Conversely, in the denial of salvation in the Archpoet's curam gero cutis instead of salutis, parody and satire ultimately reaffirm the dominance of the normative concept of the self as a project for salvation by opening up the abyss of perdition. For Aquinas, there exists a unique individual responsible for his/her moral choices and, in theology, there was at least the possibility of a theory of the subject in the concept of the hypostasis. The principium individuationis question seems to have sidetracked the scholastics into a purely technical problem of definition rather than issues of substance relating to human life.13 The fundamental originality of Christian literature and indeed its revolutionary character in terms of the classical tradition has been demonstrated by Erich Auerbach through a variety of phenomena

and Desire: Essays on Augustine (Calgary 1990), pp. 87-100, esp. pp. 96-97; cf. Westra, Trudentius', in W. T. H. Jackson, ed., European Writers: The Middle Ages and the Renaissance, I (New York 1983), pp. 1-22. 12 L. Honey, with H. Westra, 'Eliciting Egeria: The Woman Behind the Text', in L. Olson, ed. Reading Women: New Approaches to Female Literacy in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages (Notre Dame University Press, forthcoming); cf. Westra, 'The Pilgrim Egeria's Concept of Place', Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 30 (1995), pp. 93-100. 13 Interestingly, Diderot and Dalembert's Encyclopedie, VII (1757), still defines 'individu' as 'un etre dont toutes les determinations sont exprimees. . . Les scholastiques expriment les circonstances d'ou Ton peut receuillir ces proprietes par le vers suivant: Forma, figura, locus, stirps, nomen, patria, tempus'. Etienne Gilson has concerned himself with the elaboration of scholastic theory in this area.

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such as authorship, style, genre, audience, and purpose. Auerbach did not use the example of Egeria, a woman author who transforms the traditional genre of the itinerarium into a personalised pilgrimage account in which she seeks to re-evoke the experience for the 'sisters' back home. Because she is a woman, she has escaped the school of rhetoric and thereby both the ubiquitous, homogenising filter for experience and the universal straight) acket of expression, even though she is able to use it when she wants to, thus arriving at a carefully bracketed variety of styles that suits her purpose, the transmission of a new religious experience deriving from the coincidence of Biblical text, sacred landscape and salvation history. The modalities and object of her hermeneutical pleasure are surely new and original in terms of the classical tradition. As noted, the irrepressibility of her personality is evident in both narrative and style, but her self-understanding involves precisely the repression of the self. The question whether the late eleventh and twelfth centuries '(^discovered' the individual has been debated in the recent past,14 but the preoccupation with the sinful and/or the suffering self in the autobiographical/confessional narratives of Guibert of Nogent and Abelard recall Augustine's project of confession and self-improvement in relation to others (esp. mother, mistress, teacher, child/teenage self). There is an element of persecution mania in both Guibert and, especially, Abelard, which points forward to the ultimately regressive use of the genre by Rousseau, whose obsession turns confession back into a means of (classical) self-justification. Individual expression is clearly not an issue or an ideal in the discussions of inventio, ingenium, memoria, copia or ornatus: rather, imitatio is the norm. But it is possible to find original forms of expression in medieval literature that involve a construction of the self. A beautiful example of such a positioning of the self in medieval society through the

14

C. Bynum, 'Did the Twelfth Century Discover the Individual', The Journal of Ecclesiastical History 31 (1980); cf. e.g. W. Ullmann, The Individual and Society in the Middle Ages (Baltimore 1966); C. Morris, The Discovery of the Individual: 1050-1200 (New York 1972); P. Zumthor, in La mesure du monde. Representation de I'espace au Moyen Age (Paris 1993), p. 41, suggests that prior to the 14th century the need for identification was stronger than the desire for a personal identity and that only a few members of the elite were able to escape this condition from the twelfth century on.

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use of the classical tradition is provided by Baudri of Bourgeuil. As Gerald Bond has demonstrated, Baudri was not a unique, isolated genius, but connected with an Ovidian subculture among the lower ranks of the monastic and cathedral schools, asserting an 'aristocracy of the heart' in his poetry based on Ovid.15 The self is present indirectly as an aspiration or as a project of emancipation through the expression of the true, noble self in the language of the most sophisticated yet ultimately rejected, exiled Roman poet. Other forms of originality involving the interactions between the oral and the written, Latin and vernacular, and popular and oral culture come into play when we consider the case of the Ruodlieb, a subject on which Peter Dronke and this author have crossed pens on occasion, particularly over the role of the dominella.16 The most fascinating part of the Ruodlieb phenomenon is the history of the text: habent sua fata libellil Vollmann has described the genesis of this most unusual text in detail in the Introduction to his edition, raising new caveats and adding new insights to what had already been established.17 He concludes that the Tegernsee MS (now in Munich) was not intended for binding, i.e. not meant to have the status of a 'proper' text in book form, which is certainly significant in terms of its conception, execution and reception. 'Cheap' parchment was used, and parchment showing signs of having been designated for other use, some of it actually used before for colophons. Initially, there is a liberal use of parchment, but, from Fragment 9, the text is crowded into the margin. Add to this the fact that the generic conception of the story changes in the course of its unfolding, and one is left very much with the impression of a trial effort. Vollmann hypothesizes that Fragments 1-8 in the Tegernsee MS constitute the first fair copy; by Fragment 9, the author had decided on a second fair copy; hence the use of the margins. Here one could object that the use 15 G. Bond, ''locus Amoris: The Poetry of Baudri of Bourgeuil and the Formation of the Ovidian Subculture', Traditio 42 (1986), pp. 143-193, esp. pp. 188-191. 16 For a resolution of the issues under contention, now see A. Zissos, 'Marriage in the Ruodlieb', Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 32 (1997), pp. 53-78. Cf. H. Westra, 'Brautwerbung in the Ruodlieb'', ibid., 18 (1983), 107-120 and 'On the Interpretation of the Dominella's Speech in the Ruodlieb', ibid., 22 (1987), 136-141, as well as my review of the second edition of Dronke's Poetic Individuality, ibid., 26 (1991), 229-235. 17 B. Vollmann, ed. Ruodlieb: Faksimile-Ausgabe des Codex Latinus Monacensis 19486 der Bayerischen Staatsbibliothek Muenchen und der Fragmente von St. Florian, II, Teil I (Wiesbaden 1985), reviewed by this author in Speculum 65 (January 1990), pp. 162-166.

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of margins is usually due to an anticipated lack of writing material, and this simple explanation is consonant with the impression conveyed by the low-quality parchment scraped together for the occasion, so to speak. Vollmann uses his hypothesis to explain why the MS from Tegernsee was left unfinished: presumably, the ending of the Ruodlieb was copied directly from the wax tablet into the second fair copy, the (incomplete) St. Florian MS. It is clear that Vollmann wants to date the MS from Tegernsee, which is in part an autograph, by tying it closely to the St. Florian MS, presumed to have been executed under authorial control. It is equally clear that Vollmann does not want to think of the Ruodlieb as somehow left unfinished, deliberately or by default, which, given the trial character of the text, could be entertained as a reasonable hypothesis. The evidence provided concerning the author's hand, showing that the work was written over a period of time, not continuously, and in a variety of writing 'moods', and under a constant reworking of the text, especially the prosody, reinforces the tentativeness of the textualization. What is equally significant is the subsequent history of the text, especially the reception of the work in the Middle Ages: there are no hands later than those of the eleventh century to be found in the MS from Tegernsee, where the parchment on which the text was written reverted to its original function as binding material, probably during the second half of the fifteenth century, when the library was expanding. In 1803, when the monastery of Tegernsee was suppressed, the MS came to Munich in its unique form, as binding material in other codices. Discovered by the librarian Docen, the recovered leaves were entered into his private collection which was auctioned off after his death. It is not impossible that, in addition to the known fragments recovered since the auction, others were lost or remain to be discovered—two leaves were found loose in one of Docen's books! Another posible source, the fonds of Tegernsee MSS and incunabula in the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, appears to be exhausted after the discovery of two additional parchment strips presented in V's edition as Fragments 1A and 3A. But not all Tegernsee MSS ended up in the Staatsbibliothek. During the secularization, library contents first went to a conservatorium, whence many volumes were auctioned off, even dumped at low prices. This is probably the route by which one leaf ended up in the library of Freiherr von Moll, whose 80,000 volumes were subsequently sold and dispersed between London and Moscow. So it is conceivable that somewhere

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in Europe or America, in MSS of Tegernsee provenance, leaves of the Ruodlieb remain hidden as binding material. The Ruodlieb involves originality in terms of genre: it combines oral, Germanic narrative, with both courtly and fabliau-like elements, cast in the written, Latin genre of the epic. Whereas Virgil in his Kunstepos is able to connect Roman legend with his fully internalised Greek model through a complex of allusion at all levels, the author of the Ruodlieb was unable to effect this kind of conjointure with later Latin epic. The originality of the work lies manifestly in its genesis as a trial effort, unsuccessful as its non-reception shows. But does it derive from a conscious will to experiment, i.e. experiment for the sake of experiment, or from an attempt to validate Germanic material through the medium of grammatical Probably the latter, and clearly, this route was not acceptable to its intended audience (if any). In other words, the originality of the Ruodlieb also lies in the attempt to start a written German literature in Latin. One has to go back to Charlemagne who is said, by his biographer, Einhard, to have planned a grammar of his Frankish vernacular.18 At the same time, he is said to have recorded the traditional, epic lays of his people in the vernacular. Even if this report is not historically accurate, it represents the dilemma of an oral, vernacular literature facing a privileged, written (and therefore grammatical) body of literature with which it could not compete since its largely clerical audience was conditioned by the latter. In the case of the Merovingian and Carolingian epics, it simply may not have been possible to textualise the Frankish language (hence, the need for a vernacular grammar). In the case of the Ruodlieb, the Latin textualisation of the first vernacular 'roman' was a non-starter. The fact that the unusual generic structure of the Ruodlieb did not correspond to any Latin model current at the time may have contributed to this disjuncture: the Waltharius, by contrast, connects much more closely with the classical epic on several levels, and one can see why it would have been relatively more successful precisely because it satisfied audience expectations. Only when a significant non-Latinate audience with other expectations developed, were the necessary preconditions for a vernacular novel fulfilled. Looking back, the Ruodlieb represents an

18

Cf. H. Westra, 'Literacy, Orality and Medieval Patronage: A Phenomenological Outline', The Journal of Medieval Latin 1 (1991), pp. 52~59, esp. p. 54, n. 9.

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intermediary phase, almost a necessary or inevitable experiment in the development of a (courtly) literature in the vernacular, a trial effort that may have confounded and perplexed its own author, producing originality by anomaly. The question then arises as to what "systemic" originality might exist. In general, one would expect originality in the medieval reception and transformation of ancient genres, subject matter and its expression. Then there is likely to be originality deriving from the idiosyncrasies of the medieval world view reflected, for example, in Christian symbolism; from the situation of literary culture, e.g. the monasteries and the schools as loci of literary activity; and from specific social, political and historical circumstances. Sometimes any given number or configuration of these factors will even result in totally new genres, often with pronounced oral/popular, local backgrounds. A fine example of such an original genre exists in the beast epic. It is very much a deliberate creation, witness its parodic and satirical elements. Of course, there were classical sources, and nineteenth century scholar fought great battles over the question whether the origin of the beast epic was oral and popular or textual and learned. Clearly, the two are not mutually exclusive, and it is far more productive to see the Wechselwirkung between the two as a possible source of originality. Add to this the possibility of 'contamination' of Byzantine and Christian Latin sources as, for example, in the motif of the hypocritical wolf-monk that forms the basis of the medieval Latin beast epic, Ysengrimus, and originality begins where Quellenforschung disappears into the mist.19 Such originality is not always a source of aesthetic pleasure.20 One of the most extraordinary and extravagant passages from medieval Latin literature is the scene where the perfidious Ysengrim, the fraudulent cleric and rapacious glutton, is torn apart and devoured by 19

See B. Kaczynski and H. Westra, 'The Motif of the Hypocritical Wolf in Medieval Greek and Latin Animal Literature', in M. Herren, ed. The Sacred Nectar of the Greeks: The Study of Greek in the West in the Early Middle Ages (London 1988), pp. 105-141, esp. p. 117, n. 38. A good example of popular elements entering the learned milieu is the Fecunda Ratis of Egbert of Liege, ca. 1023: see Wolfgang Maaz, 'Egbert von Luettich', in Enzyklopaedie des Maerchens, vol. 3, fasc. 4/5 (Berlin 1981), 1010-1019. 20 However, the realisation that beauty is not limited to the harmonious or the merely pretty extends back to Aristotle (Poetics 1448b; Rhet. 1371a21~1371b25).

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the sow Salaura, the infernal abbess, and her brood, in an apocalyptic sparagmos/omophagy (Tsengrimus 7, lines 371-442). Every (sacred) category is reversed in this inversion of the Eucharist: whereas Christ is the Word made Flesh that issued from the mouth of God to be partaken of by mankind in redemptive sacrifice, the wolf—the very antithesis of the Good Shepherd—incorporates and exemplifies the fallen word, a discourse devoured by omnivorous, unclean pigs in a missa silvestris (cf. Tsengrimus 7, lines 45, 230).21 Along with the redemptive word, love itself is inverted: following the biblical command to love one's enemies, Salaura decides to unite Ysengrim with her greatest enemy, her belly, so that she may be filled with sacred love (Tsengrimus 7, lines 397-408). The fantastic, the absurd, the burlesque and the apocalyptic are not unique to medieval Latin literature, but the way they are woven into this bitter clerical satire certainly is. One can even imagine a study of originality in medieval Latin literature that would focus precisely on the satirical and the parodic as loci for demonstrating unique expression, as a counterpart to the study of mystical discourse or courtly love. This would be an exploration of the dark side, but the dialectic could be fruitful.22

21 On Salaura and the death of Ysengrim, see E. Charbonnier, 'Un episode original: la mort du loup dans le livre VIII de V Tsengrimus' and W. Schouwink, The Sow Salaura and her Relatives in Medieval Literature and Art', both in G. Bianciotto and M. Salvat, eds. Epopee animate, fable, fabliau, Actes du IVe Colloque de la Societe Internationale Renardienne, Evreux 7 1 1 septembre 1981 (Paris 1984), pp. 133-139 and 509-523, respectively. See J. Mann, Tsengrimus: Text with Translation, Commentary and Introduction (Leiden 1987), pp. 537-541. A similar, unholy communion takes place at the end of Patrick Suesskind's disturbing novel Perfume, where the main character is constructed as a diabolical inversion of Christ. 22 Three years after Peter Dronke's Poetic Individuality was first published (1970), I was a graduate student at the University of Toronto. Excited by the perspectives opened in the first, major study of the nature of medieval Latin literature since Curtius' ELLMA (and entailing a significant correction to Curtius' insistence on the rhetorical tradition), I proposed a thesis on precisely the topic of originality in Medieval Latin literature. I was eventually told in no uncertain terms that such a subject simply would not do, which demonstrates clearly how innovative and challenging the book actually was. I would like to thank my colleague James Hume for his valuable suggestions on the penultimate version of this contribution.

THE HIGHEST FORM OF COMPLIMENT: IMITATIO IN MEDIEVAL LATIN CULTURE Jan Ziolkowski

Especially since the publication in 1948 of Ernst Robert Curtius's (1886-1956) European Literature in the Latin Middle Ages, it has been recognized that many medieval writings, true to the textile metaphor that the Middle Ages bequeathed us in the very word text, are fabrics that incorporate fibers from earlier writings and preceding traditions.1 Such intertextuality has typified literature in many times and places, but it is particularly pronounced in the Middle Ages, and the explanation for this salience lies partly in the centrality of imitation in the aesthetics and training of the medieval craftsmen who spun the yarns we call texts. In the case of Medieval Latin writers the imitation would have included formal practice in school in replicating different features of literature, such as styles, forms, commonplaces, and turns of phrase. In counterpoint to the whole Curtian emphasis on the traditional and the typical has been the recognition of individuality, originality, and unconventionality—a recognition championed clearly and deftly by Peter Dronke in Poetic Individuality in the Middle Ages: New Departures in Poetry 1000-1150? To honor Peter Dronke with an examination of imitatio, which many might presume to be the converse of individuality, might seem paradoxical at best and inappropriate at worst, but it can be justified for two very different reasons. From one perspective it is obviously helpful sometimes to define a concept such as individuality through juxtaposition to its opposite (or one of its opposites). From another vantage point it is false to establish a

1 Curtius, European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages, trans. W. Trask (Princeton, New Jersey 1990) (Bollingen Series 36). The German original was first published in 1948, the English translation in 1953. On the metaphor at the basis of the word text, see J. Ziolkowski, 'Text and Textuality, Medieval and Modern', to appear in Unfester Text, ed. B. Sabel. 2 (Oxford 1970; 2nd ed. London 1986). This aspect of the book was remarked upon by G. Bruns, 'The Originality of Texts in a Manuscript Culture', Comparative Literature 32 (1980), 113-29, at p. 124.

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dichotomy between individuality and imitation: The opposition is neither intrinsic nor automatic. Much of the complex interplay that, often owing to imitatio, took place in the Middle Ages between conservation and innovation as well as between life, reading, and writing can be sensed in a letter to Boccaccio (1313-1375) in which Petrarch (1304-1374), in his own adaptation of well-worn metaphors, expresses several of his attitudes toward imitation: I grant that I like to embellish my life with sayings and admonitions from others, but not my writings unless I acknowledge the author or make some significant change in arriving at my own concept from many and varied sources in imitation of the bees. Otherwise, I much prefer that my style be my own, uncultivated and rude, but made to fit, as a garment, to the measure of my mind, rather than to someone else's, which may be more elegant, ambitious, and adorned, but deriving from a greater genius, one that continually slips off, unfitted to the humble proportions of my intellect. Every garment befits the actor but not every style the writer; each must develop and keep his own lest either by dressing grotesquely in others' clothes or by being plucked of our feathers by birds flocking to reclaim their own, we may be ridiculed like the crow. Surely each of us naturally possesses something individual and personal in his voice and speech as well as in his looks and gestures that is easier, more useful, and more rewarding to cultivate and correct than to change.3

Petrarch's distinction between imitation in speech and imitation in writing is fascinating. Whether or not other literati before him differentiated similarly remains to be seen. Less uncertain is that the value he placed on either signaling a debt to an author or else fusing materials taken from various authors and modified was widespread among earlier Medieval Latin writers. The former approach, of acknowledging indebtedness, fits with the circumstance that in an age when authority was still vested in major authors, writers had powerful incentives to advertise their borrowings. The latter tack, of fusion, would seem to come considerably closer to modern notions of individual style and creativity. 3 Francesco Petrarca, Rerum familiarium libri 22.2, trans. A. Bernardo, Letters on Familiar Matters, III (Baltimore-London 1985), p. 213; ed. Le Familiari, vols. 1-3, ed. V. Rossi, and vol. 4, ed. Rossi and U. Bosco (Florence 1933—41); discussed by Bruns, 'Originality of Texts', p. 124; T. Greene, The Light in Troy: Imitation and Discovery in Renaissance Poetry, (New Haven 1982) (Elizabethan Club Series 7), passim; and J. Miller, Poetic License: Authority and Authorship in Medieval and Renaissance Contexts (New York-Oxford 1986), pp. 121-6.

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This essay will probe briefly the significances of imitatio as a concept and practice in the Latin Middle Ages. In this exploration the grammatical-rhetorical phenomena cannot be separated neatly from the ethical-theological, since the two categories were not always quarantined from each other in earlier times.4 Furthermore, this investigation requires at least passing attention to imitatio in the classical philosophical and rhetorical traditions that influenced the Middle Ages directly and indirectly. A fuller appraisal would take into consideration how theories of imitatio were adapted by the Church Fathers within the overall Christianization of the verbal arts in the trivium. Finally, it would entail a comparison between imitatio as it appears in practice as well as in theory, since applications of imitatio in poetry have almost always been subtler than the doctrines enunciated by grammarians, rhetoricians, . . . and even by literary critics and theorists. The index to the English translation of Ernst Robert Curtius's European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages contains separate entries for imitatio and imitation (as well as for mimesis). Curtius's attentiveness to these phenomena itself recurs almost as a topos within the book, the main body of which ends with a section entitled 'Imitation and Creation'.3 That Curtius should have enlisted the Latin imitatio in contradistinction to imitation (Nachahmung in German) is no accident. His preference of the Latin can be explained as an effort not only at precision, but also at avoidance: We do not wish the poems we discuss to be tainted with the pejorative connotations of the plain old English derivative imitation (or its equivalents in German and other modern European languages). Imitation when adduced as an epithet implies simulation, falseness, and inferiority: An item that is 4 For an exhaustive survey of the grammatico-rhetorical tradition, see A. Cizek, Imitatio et tractatio. Die literarisch-rhetorischen Orundlagender Nachahmung in Antike und Mittelalter, (Tubingen 1994) (Rhetorik-Forschungen 7). Dina De Rentiis succeeds well in juxtaposing the grammatico-rhetorical and the ethical-theological, although he limits his purview to the period from the twelfth through the sixteenth century: see Die ^eit der Nachfolge: ^ur Interdependent von 'imitatio Christi' und 'imitatio auctorum' im 12—16. Jahrhundert (Tubingen 1996) (Beihefte zur Zeitschrift fur romanische Philologie 273). The broadest overview that pays attention to both traditions is a short encyclopedia entry: N. Kaminski, 'Imitatio,' in Historisches Worterbuch der Rhetorik, ed. G. Ueding, IV (Tubingen 1998), col. 246-257. The Middle Ages receive very short shrift in the otherwise excellent thumbnail sketch on the topic offered in G. Else and H. Regueiro Elam, 'Imitation', in The New Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics, ed. A. Preminger and T. Brogan (Princeton, New Jersey 1993), pp. 575-579. 0 European Literature, 'Imitation and Creation,' pp. 397-401.

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qualified as 'imitation' is often the same as one tagged as 'faux' or 'pseudo'. As the historian of rhetoric Richard McKeon declared in the opening of a now-classic article on imitation in antiquity, 'The term "imitation" is not prominent in the vocabulary of criticism today. In such use as it still has, it serves to segregate the bad from the good in art. . .'6 A similar defensiveness may lie behind the heavy application that mimesis, the Greek progenitor of imitatio, has seen in modern literary criticism since Erich Auerbach (1892^1957) emblazoned it upon his most influential book, Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature, when it was published in 1946.7 Auerbach's book, in which mimesis designates the representation of social reality in European literature, initiated a renewal of attention to the topic from literary historians and aestheticians that held strong throughout the second half of the twentieth century.8 Mimesis and imitation are often treated as being more or less synonymous, but as even the cursory definition of mimesis just provided indicates, the two terms can serve productively to discriminate among very different manifestations. Mimesis comprehends the representation of reality in art, whether through words or action, and describes a relationship between the world and representational arts, whereas imitation pertains to the relationship of one text to another. Where the two overlap is in their distance from reality. The status of imitation, both the term and the practice, has been questionable since the end of the eighteenth century. Imitation conflicts with ideals (sometimes illusory) of originality, spontaneity, innovation, unconventionality, improvisation, self-expression, and individuality that have held sway since Romanticism. Reservations about imitation belong to a larger complex, in which modern views toward the old and new differ sharply from medieval ones. The literature and history of the Middle Ages are filled with instances in which people base claims of authority upon ancient authors or texts and old parchment or manuscripts; whereas in the present day people 6 R. McKeon, 'Literary Criticism and the Concept of Imitation in Antiquity', Modem Philology 34 (1936), 1-35; reprinted in Critics and Criticism: Ancient and Modern., ed. R. Crane (Chicago 1952), pp. 147-75, at 147. 7 Trans. W. Trask (Princeton, New Jersey 1953). 8 See G. Gebauer and C. Wulf, 'Mimesis', in Encyclopedia of Aesthetics, ed. M. Kelly, 4 vols. (Oxford 1998), III, pp. 232~8, and J. Ziolkowski, 'Erich Auerbach', Ibid., I, pp. 157-9.

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are inclined to place more weight upon new studies and the latest reports or technologies, as purveyed in such media as the internet, television, and newspapers. The Romantic and post-Romantic distrust of imitation revives doubts that were voiced already in classical philosophy. In Plato (c. 429-347 BC) mimesis refers particularly to the relationship of art to ideal forms. Plato sets forth his theory of artistic imitation in Book 10 (and to a lesser extent in Book 3) of the Republic, when he discusses the three kinds of couches: the idea of the couch, over which God presides; the imitation of the couch, which a carpenter produces; and the picture of a couch, which a painter makes. To summarize crudely, Plato identifies imitation as the method of all art. Painters and poets devise objects that are twice removed from the truth of ideal forms, since their external appearances counterfeit the appearance of ideas rather than the ideas themselves. The distance of art from the ideal constitutes one component in the explanation for Plato's famous, or infamous, banishment of poetry as a mimetic art. Another aspect of it would be distrust of imitation as a form of falsification. In this light a story is an imitation or image of a lie in the soul.9 Yet evidently Plato does not condemn wholesale the imitation of the ideal found in poetry and art, since he presents the universe as being imitation of ideas by a divine craftsman.10 A loosely similar conception of imitation, perhaps derived very indirectly from the Platonic, appears in Medieval Latin when imitatio is employed to describe the attempted reproduction of an ideal that exists not in reality but only in the mind of the would-be imitator. But it is typical of the profound textuality characteristic of the Latin literary tradition that the key passage cited to document this usage has at its basis reading. 'What they have read, may they believe; what they have come to believe, may they teach; what they have taught, may they imitate.'11

9 Republic 2, 382bc as quoted and analyzed in McKeon, 'Literary Criticism', p. 151. 10 Plato, Timaeus 27O29C, trans. F. Cornford (Indianapolis-New York 1959), pp. 1618; trans. Calcidius, ed. J. H. Waszink, Corpus Platonicum Medii Aevi 4, 2nd ed. (London-Leiden 1975), pp. 20.6-22.8. 11 'Quod legerint, credant/Quod crediderint, doceant,/Quod docuerint, imitentur', in Pontificate romanum, ed. de Benoit, XIV (Rome 1752), p. 419, quoted by J. de Ghellinck, 'Imitari, imitatio', Bulletin Du Cange (Archivium Latinitatis Medii Aevi) 15 (1940), 151-9, at p. 151.

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Like almost all the rest of Plato's writings, the Republic was not directly accessible in the Latin Middle Ages, but Macrobius (ca. 400 AD), who was well versed in Neoplatonic doctrines, incorporates very similar thoughts into his interpretations of Vergil's Aeneid. For example, he establishes connections between the structure of the Aeneid and that of the macrocosm.12 Furthermore, in his schema Vergil as a student of Homer is essentially an imitator of archetypes: in Vergil Macrobius sees an accommodation of the Platonic model to literary production.13 Plato's notion of poetry as being a self-reflexive, doubly mimetic form of expression was also embedded in the Timaeus, which was widely available in the translation and commentary by Calcidius (fourth century AD). Plato declares: My incapacity is not surprising; but I have formed the same judgment about the poets of the past and of today. Not that I have low opinion of poets in general; but anyone can see that an imitator, of whatever sort, will reproduce best and most easily the surroundings in which he has been brought up; what lies outside that range is even harder to reproduce successfully in discourse than it is in action.14 This statement of Plato's was later absorbed into the Latin context of imitatio and emulatio, with commentators perceiving that Latin poets imitate both life and each other.13

12

Curtius, European Literature, p. 400. Saturnalia 5.13.40, ed. J. Willis (Leipzig 1970), p. 301:9-15: see D. Kelly, The Conspiracy of Allusion: Description, Rewriting, and Authorship from Macrobius to Medieval Romance (Leiden, Boston, and Cologne 1999) (Studies in the History of Christian Thought 97), pp. 49-51. 14 Plato, Timaeus 19d, trans. Cornford, p. 6; Latin trans, by Calcidius, ed. J. Waszink (London and Leiden, 2nd ed., 1975), pp. 10:18-11:4: 'Nee mirum non posse me, quando nee ueteres quidem auctores uel praesentis saeculi poetas posse confidam, non quo contemnam poeticam nationem, sed quod euidens perspicuumque sit imitandi peritos ea demum aemulari posse perfecte quorum ab ineunte aetate habeant usum experientiamque et in quibus propemodum sint educati, at uero incogniti moris peregrinaeque institutionis imitationem effictam, praesertim oratione seu uersibus, praeclaris licet praestantibusque ingeniis esse difficilem.' 15 The Commentary on the First Six Books of the Aeneid' of Vergil commonly attributed to Bernardus Sihiestris, ed. J. Jones and E.Jones (Lincoln-London 1977), pp. 74:21-75:2: 'Zetus Grece quasi zelus, id est emulatio Latine; Calais vero quasi calon, id est bonum. Emulatio autem hoc loco poesis intelligitur que tota est in imitatione. Unde Plato in Timeo dicit poetas imitandi peritos ea demum emulari posse quorum ab ineunte etate experientiam habent. Respice enim ad Horatium, Juvenalem et Stacium, Vergilium. In omnibus se imitantur'; Bernardus Silvestris, Commentary on the First Six Books of Virgil's 'Aeneid,' Book 6, line 289, trans. E. Schreiber and T. Maresca 13

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In Aristotle mimesis refers to the correspondence of art with modes of human action and expression. In the Poetics Aristotle suggests that all arts are imitative—a point of view that Augustine would later revisit and reexamine at length, with specific reference to music, in his De musica (composed AD 388-91).16 Some kinds of art imitate action, others words. For Aristotle poetry was mimesis, in that its characteristic form of creation resulted from imitation of men doing something.17 The Aristotelian concern with imitation of actions lingered throughout antiquity and late antiquity. For instance, we read in Quintilian's (ca. 35-100 AD) Institutio oratoria (10.2.27) that 'imitation . . . should not be confined merely to words.'18 And Aelius Donatus' De comedia (fourth century AD) features the following observation: 'Comedy, says Cicero, is "an imitation of life, a mirror of character, and an image of truth."'19 Also in late antiquity, the grammarian Diomedes (fourth century AD) presents a generic typology of poetry that includes one he labels 'the active or imitative genre, which the Greeks call the dramatic or mimetic'.20 The usage of imitation and mimesis in both Aelius Donatus and Diomedes retains the association with drama and related forms that had emerged already in ancient Greek. Such mimesis is bound conceptually and etymologically with mimicry. This understanding of imitatio did not vanish in the Middle Ages and in (Lincoln-London 1979), pp. 71-72: '^etus is so called in Greek as if zelus, that is, emulatio, "emulation," in Latin; Calais, as if colon, that is, bonum, "the good." For emulation here is understood as poetry, which consists entirely of imitation. Whence Plato in the Timaeus (19D) says that poets practiced in imitation can recreate the experiences which anyone has from birth. Read attentively Horace, Juvenal, Statius, and Virgil; they imitate each other in all things.' 16 PL 32, 1309-1378. 17 Poetics 1448 al, trans. I. Bywater, in The Complete Works of Aristotle. The Revised Oxford Translation, ed. J. Barnes (Princeton, New Jersey 1984) (Bollingen Series 71), II, p. 2317: 'The objects the imitator represents are actions, with agents who are necessarily either good men or bad'. 18 Institutio oratoria 10.2.27, ed. and trans. H. Butler (London 1922), IV, pp. 88-89: 'Imitatio autem (nam saepius idem dicam) non sit tantum in verbis.' 19 De fabula, in Commentum Terenti, ed. P. Wessner, 2 vols., I (Leipzig 1902~5), pp. 22-31, at 22.19^20: 'comoediam esse Cicero ait imitationem uitae, speculum consuetudinis, imaginem ueritatis'; trans, in Medieval Literary Criticism: Translations and Interpretations, ed. O. Hardison, Jr., A. Preminger, K. Kerrane and L. Golden (New York 1974), p. 45. 20 Artis grammaticae libri III, in Grammatici latini, ed. H. Keil, I (Leipzig 1857), pp. 297-529, at 482:14-15 '(genus) activum est vel imitativum, quod Graeci dramaticon vel mimeticon': see Curtius, European Literature, p. 440.

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fact resurfaced with the rediscovery of Aristotle, especially as mediated and modified in Hermann the German (d. 1272).21 In a Christian context imitatio came to be valued first and foremost in the context of imitatio Christi. Although this imitatio attained particular prominence only in the twelfth century and later, it was hardly unknown in the earlier Middle Ages.22 Even in Bede (672/3-735) it is linked implicitly with reading—reading of the Gospels.23 But generally in the Latin tradition such nods to the Greek philosophical conception of mimesis become rarer with the passage of time.24 In the main those who wrote about imitatio had concerns much less philosophical than philological: They were interested in the imitation of words.25 The term imitatio as it is customarily applied in the interpretation of Latin literature refers to an extensive band within the complete spectrum of verbal imitation, what could be called imitation of the Classics or of canonical texts.26 A conviction that imitation of great speakers and writers constitutes the surest means of attaining stylistic excellence was entrenched in rhetorical doctrine at the latest by the first century, in the Rhetorica ad Herennium (perhaps c. 86-82 BC), Cicero's Brutus and Orator, and Dionysius of Halicarnassus's On Imitation (extant only in fragments). In Latin this imitation was often inherently creative, since it necessitated the adaptation of models from one language and culture, Greek, into another, Latin. The creativ-

21

Medieval Literary Theory and Criticism c. 1100-c. 1375: The Commentary-Tradition, ed. A. Minnis and A. Scott (Oxford 1988), pp. 290 3 and 301-3. 22 For the twelfth through the sixteenth centuries, see De Rentiis, Die ^eit der Nachfolge. 23 Homeliarum euangelii libri ii, Lib. II, hom. 10, ed. D. Hurst (Turnhout 1955) (CCSL 122) p. 247:1-5. 24 J. Schneider, Die Vita Heinrici IV. und Sallust. Studien zu Stil und Imitatio in der mittelalteinischen Prosa (Berlin 1965) (Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin. Schriften der Sektion fur Altertumswissenschaft 49), p. 2. 25 This particularization of imitatio in the verbal can be seen in John of Salisbury's Metalogicon when he states: 'Nee in solis nominibus conspicua est naturae haec imitatio, sed in aliis omnibus orationis partibus si diligentius attendatur': Metalogicon 1.14, ed. J. Hall (Turnhout 1991) (CCCM 98), p. 34:48-50; trans. D. McGarry (Berkeley-Los Angeles 1955), p. 40: 'Upon reflection, one sees that this imitation of nature also maintains in other parts of speech, as well as in nouns.' 26 See G. Conte and G. Most, 'Imitatio', in The Oxford Classical Dictionary, 3rd eds., ed. S. Hornblower and A. Spawforth (Oxford 1996), p. 749, who define imitatio as 'the study and conspicuous deployment of features recognizably characteristic of a canonical author's style or content, so as to define one's own generic affiliation.'

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ity remained even after the native tradition burgeoned and the models imitated became Latin. Whether the exempla were Greek or Latin, the imitation presumed a form of competition—a rivalry for distinction expressed in Greek as ^fjXoq or £r)A,coat<; and in Latin as aemulatio.27 In this regard imitatio in Medieval Latin literary contexts bears a likeness to its predecessor in classical Latin literature, where the word described one class of relationships that bound Roman authors to Greek authors.28 More closely tied to the original inspiration were texts produced through interpretatio ('translation');29 more loosely connected were those that resulted from aemulatio ('artistic rivalry'). The Roman pairing of imitatio and aemulatio can be found almost as a post-mortem reflex in late antiquity and the Middle Ages, not so much in grammatical-rhetorical as in ethical-theological contexts. Medieval imitatio also resembles imitatio in Renaissance literature, which is commonly a matter of direct reference of one text to another, especially of a Renaissance text to an ancient one.30 Yet in no postclassical period were the Classics accepted wholesale without reservation, since they contained licenses in their usage that later writers could or would no longer allow themselves. As Dante's (1265-1321) De vulgari eloquentia indicates explicitly, medieval writers were supposed to imitate the ancients but at the same time to adhere to principles set forth systematically in 'arts of poetry': Yet they [vernacular poets] differ from the great poets, that is, those who obey the rules, since those great ones wrote their poetry in a language, and with a technique governed by rules, whereas these write at random, as I said above. Thus it comes about that, the more closely we try to imitate the great poets, the more correctly we write poetry. So, since I am trying to write a theoretical work about poetry, it behoves me to emulate their learned works of poetic doctrine.31 27

The locus classicus for discussion of the relationship between imitation and rivalry is Quintilian, Institutio oratoria 10.2.1-28, ed. and trans. Butler, IV, pp. 74-91. 28 See A. Reiff, Interpretatio, imitatio, aemulatio: Begriff und Vorstellung literarischer Abhangigkeit bei den Romem, Inaugural-Dissertation, Universitat Koln (Cologne 1959), at p. 111. 29 For a treatment of interpretatio that ranges broadly across time, see F. Rener, Interpretatio: Language and Translation from Cicero to Tytler (Amsterdam-Atlanta 1989) (Approaches to Translation Studies 8). 30 Of the extensive scholarship on imitation in Renaissance literature, the definitive work remains Greene, The Light in Troy. :il Dante, De vulgari eloquentia 2.4.3, ed. and trans. S. Botterill (Cambridge 1996) (Cambridge Medieval Classics 5), pp. 56-57: 'Differunt tamen a magnis poetis, hoc

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Medieval instructors in grammar and rhetoric had unstinting praise for the benefits of imitatio and tractatio, and they enforced practice in them through assignment of exercises such as progymnasmata. They also eventually warned that imitators had to exercise discrimination in deciding what to imitate and what not. The schools laid great emphasis upon recollection and citation of authorities, that is, passages from authoritative authors. Yet the remembrance and the re-use were not slavish, at least as they were practiced by the best writers. Rather, they required creative evaluation and adaptation. By the twelfth century many authors in both Latin and the medieval vernaculars manifested confidence in themselves as moderni with distinctive new contributions to offer.32 Thus in the earliest of the artes poeticae, Matthew of Vendome (twelfth century) asserts that ancient poetry transmits many abuses which are most definitely not to be imitated.33 Matthew's declaration does not mark an end to imitatio, but it does interject a notable qualification.34 Teachers had to teach boys not just which texts to imitate but also how to imitate without committing plagiarism. In this connection John of Salisbury (c. 1115-1180) reveals rich details in his portrayal of the exercises, especially the evening exercise (declinatio), that Bernard of Chartres (d. c. 1124-30) provided for the boys who studied with him.35 In the Middle Ages imitatio rested on a premise that reached far beyond the Classics and that joined authors ultimately to God, who est regularibus, quia magni sermone et arte regular! poetati sunt, hii vero casu, ut dictum est. Idcirco accidit ut, quantum illos proximius imitemur, tantum rectius poetemur. Unde nos doctrine operi intendentes, doctrinatas eorum poetrias emulari oportet.' 32 See J. Ziolkowski, Alan of Lille's Grammar of Sex: "The Meaning of Grammar to a Twelfth-Century Intellectual (Cambridge, Mass. 1985) (Speculum Anniversary Monographs 10), p. 88. 33 Ars versificatoria 4.6 'Amplius, poeticas abusiones in syllabarum temporibus non debemus imitari' and 4.8 'Debent etiam evitari impropriae verborum positiones . . . Sunt etiam hujusmodi infinitae abusiones, quae tantum attendendae sunt, sed non extendendae. In hoc autem articulo modernis incumbit potius antiquorum apologia quam imitatio', ed. E. Faral, Les arts poetiques du XIP et du XHf siecle. Recherches et documents sur la technique litteraire du moyen age (Paris 1924), p. 181; trans. A. Galyon (Ames, Iowa 1980), p. 101 'Furthermore, we ought not to imitate flagrant examples of poetic license in the quantities of syllables' and 'One ought to avoid improper word usage . . . There are endless abuses of this sort which ought to be closely attended to but not extended. In this matter it behooves moderns more to apologize for the ancients than to imitate them.' 34 Curtius, European Literature, p. 490. 35 Metalogicon 1.24, ed. Hall, pp. 52:55-53:92; trans. McGarry, pp. 67-69.

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was the ultimate source of all creativity and the highest object of imitation—and hence the earlier-mentioned concept of imitatio Christi. This divine background to words and actions meant that grammar as a whole was a moral art and that imitation of its principal texts had moral dimensions.36 A text such as Vergil's Aeneid was to be read, reread, and imitated both because of the skill in composition that it would confer and because of the moral sense that the examples recorded in it would inculculate.37 Finally, verbal imitatio may have been the predominant form of imitation in Medieval Latin poetry, but beyond poetry towered the liturgy, the supreme form of imitation, halfway between imitation of action and imitation of words. In both Classical and Medieval Latin literature cases in which two authors happen to share knowledge of the same literary theory or tradition can easily be mistaken for instances in which one author has either imitated or influenced another. In other words, similarities between literary compositions may not arise from borrowing, but rather may reflect shared participation in a heritage of literary composition. Additionally, there are situations in which authors may express themselves similarly because they are reacting to similar cultural circumstances, not necessarily ones that have yet become entrenched in the literary tradition.38 It has been observed more than

36 For the moral emphasis of grammar throughout the Middle Ages see P. Gehl, A Moral Art: Grammar, Society, and Culture in Trecento Florence (Ithaca-London 1993) and Ziolkowski, Grammar of Sex, pp. 95-103. 37 Commentary... attributed to Bernardus Silvestris, ed. Jones and Jones, p. 2:15-21: 'Et in hoc opere ex ornatu verborum et figura orationis et ex variis casibus et operibus hominum enarrandis hab etur quedam delectatio. Si quis vero hec omnia studeat imitari, maximam scribendi peritiam consequitur; maxima etiam exempla et excogitationes aggrediendi honesta et fugiendi illicita per ea que narrantur habentur. Itaque est lectoris gemina utilitas: una scribendi peritia que habetur ex imitatione, altera vero recte agendi prudentia que capitur exemplorum exhortatione'; Bernardus Silvestris, Commentary, Preface, trans. Schreiber and Maresca, p. 4: 'The Aeneid gives pleasure because of verbal ornament, the figures of speech, and the diverse adventures and works of men which it describes. Indeed, anyone who imitates these matters diligently will attain the greatest skill in the art of writing, and he will also find in the narrative the greatest examples of and inspiration for pursuing virtue and avoiding vice. Thus, there is a double gain for the reader: the first is skill in composition which comes from imitation, and the second is the good sense to act properly which comes from the stimulus of examples.' 38 This idea was inspired by Curtius, European Literature, p. 115: 'Nevertheless, when poets of the twelfth century choose male homosexuality as material, it is often difficult to decide whether we have to do with the imitation of literary models (imitatio) or whether actual feeling was speaking.'

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once that philologists are especially disposed to viewing related phenomena in two texts as being the consequence of the later author's imitation of the earlier.39 The fallacy of post hoc ergo propter hoc reasoning is hardly restricted to Latin literary studies, but it is as deeply entrenched there as anywhere else: The fact that the phrase is in Latin is a telling happenstance. Imitation implies the copying (and modifying) of an exemplar and puts the focus on the new version. In a sense, imitation is a form of commentary, and study of imitation centers upon the commentary rather than the commented. The reference or commentary is most frequent when the text commented upon has canonical status. Imitation tends to be affirmative or polemical; it is seldom neutral. As developed in classical rhetoric, composition was divided into three major areas: imitation, theory, and practice.40 This tripartite division is found in such rhetorical treatises as the Rhetorica ad Herennium. Of these three major areas, imitation is always ranked high. Quintilian maintains that it is necessary to imitate what is best in many authors to gain models of excellence: 'For there can be no doubt that in art no small portion of our task lies in imitation, since, although invention came first and is all-important, it is expedient to imitate whatever has been invented with success' (10.2.1).41 He stresses that imitatio comes about from repeated reading (10.2.1-3). The chief advantage of such internalization through repetition is that the would-be orator then has at his disposal these models to help him in inventio, a fundamental process in composition. Yet Quintilian goes on to emphasize that the imitation cannot be blind: imitatio by itself is insufficient (10.2.4 'imitatio per se ipsa non sufficit'). The student must appreciate which models are to be imitated, what in them is good and what is not, and which modes of imitation should be selected (10.2.14). In other words, the imitator must be eclectic: 'we shall do well to keep a number of different excellences before our eyes, so that different qualities from different authors may impress themselves

39 For example, see F. Cairns, Generic Composition in Greek and Roman Poetry (Edinburgh 1972), p. 32, and particularly G. Conte, The Rhetoric of Imitation: Genre and Poetic Memory in Vergil and Other Latin Poets, trans. C. Segal (Ithaca, N.Y. 1986), pp. 27-31. 40 J. Murphy, Rhetoric in the Middle Ages: A History of Rhetorical Theory from St. Augustine to the Renaissance (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London 1974), p. ix. 41 Ed. and trans. Butler, IV, pp. 74-75: 'Neque enim dubitari potest, quin artis pars magna contineatur imitatione. Nam ut invenire primum fuit estque praecipuum, sic ea, quae bene inventa sunt, utile sequi.'

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on our minds, to be adopted for use in the place that becomes them best' (10.2.26).42 Unless he makes careful choices, the imitator will be doomed to do no better, and perhaps will do worse, than his model: 'For the man whose aim is to prove himself better than another, even if he does not surpass him, may hope to equal him' (10.2.10).43 Quintilian limits his treatment of imitation almost entirely to matters of style, but he does pay lip service to a broader sense of imitation. Furthermore, the imitation should not be confined to vocabulary or style, but should extend to an author's powers of judgment, arrangement, and so forth. The goal of imitation is that different qualities from different authors may impress themselves upon the mind of the imitator, to be available for later deployment in the appropriate situation. According to Quintilian and others, the practice of imitatio falls within the domain of the grammarian. The grammatical practice consists in first evaluating possible models ('This line of poetry is good') and then copying or paraphrasing them ('This line of poetry is good, so imitate it'). In contrast, the theory of imitatio is left to the rhetorician, who lays down a system of speech invention and presentation that follows set precepts: 'From these good lines of poetry we learn the following rules for producing good verse.'44 Just as in ancient education rhetoric is accorded more respect than grammar, so the precepts of imitatio tend to take precedence over the practice in manuals of instruction, on the grounds that the student should know how to select authors to imitate before he plunges into imitation. As Cicero writes in De oratore 2.22.90: 'Let this then be the first of my precepts, that we show the student whom to imitate, and to imitate in such a way as to strive most carefully after the qualities which are outstanding in the model he imitates.'45

42 Ed. and trans. Butler, IV, pp. 88 89: 'plurium bona ponamus ante oculos, ut aliud ex alio haereat et, quod cuique loco conveniat aptemus.' 43 Ed. and trans. Butler, IV, pp. 78-79: 'Nam qui hoc agit ut prior sit, forsitan, etiamsi non transient, aequabit.' 44 The summaries within raised commas paraphrase Murphy, Rhetoric, pp. 27—28. 45 Ed. and trans. E. Sutton and H. Rackham (Cambridge, Mass.-London 1942), p. 264 'Ergo hoc sit primum in praeceptis meis, ut demonstrernus, quem imitemur atque ita ut, quae maxime excellant in eo, quem imitabitur, ea diligentissime.' The translation here is my own.

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The advent of Christianity precipitated changes in both the theory and practice of imitatio. Christians, perceiving dangers in sending their children to schools which taught through imitatio of pagan authors such as Virgil, thought long and hard about the underpinnings of their literary education. Yet in all their excogitations only rarely was the wholesale scrapping of imitatio advocated. Most influentially, Augustine recommended the study of precepts (De doctrina Christiana 2.39.58), but not at the cost of practice. In fact, he exalted the practice of imitatio over the theory as a means of becoming eloquent: 'Therefore, since infants are not taught to speak except by learning the expressions of speakers, why can men not be made eloquent, not by teaching them the rules of eloquence, but by having them read and hear the expressions of the eloquent and imitate them in so far as they are able to follow them?'46 One substantial difference between Augustine and earlier thinkers lies in the material that he deemed suitable for imitatio, since he proposed that the Scriptures be used as examples (De doctrina Christiana., Book 4). But the more crucial difference was that he stressed the role of the hearer (or reader) over that of the speaker (or writer). Ancient rhetoric was the art of persuasion, but in Augustine's view of the process the orators do not persuade but rather the hearers persuade themselves. Likewise, teachers do not teach but instead learners teach themselves. A consequence of this view is that the advantages of imitatio were heightened: The student would improve more by careful choice and retention of models than by memorization of preceptive theories.47 The practice of imitatio continued to hold higher status than the precepts in the early Middle Ages, but it lost ground somewhat in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries as preceptive rhetoric grew in stature. Still, throughout the schools of the Middle Ages, especially in the Latin grammar schools, the copying of literary models by writing compositions in the spirit of an author was a basic tech-

46 De doctrina Christiana 4.3.5, ed. J. Martin (Turnhout 1962) (CCSL 32), p. 119:40-44 'Quapropter, cum ex infantibus loquentes non riant nisi locutiones discendo loquentium, cur eloquentes fieri non possunt nulla eloquendi arte tradita, sed elocutiones eloquentium legendo et audiendo et, quantum assequi conceditur, imitando?'; trans. D. Robertson, Jr. (Indianapolis-New York 1958), p. 120; discussed by Murphy, Rhetoric, p. 59. 47 Murphy, Rhetoric, p. 289, with reference to De doctrina 4.3.5. Also relevant is De doctrina 4.5.7, ed. Martin, pp. 120.1-121.26; trans. Robertson, pp. 121-122.

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nique. Geoffrey of Vinsauf (d. c. 1210) sounds suspiciously similar to the ancient rhetoricians when he writes in his important treatise on poetics, the Poetria nova: 'Three things perfect a work: artistic theory by whose law you may be guided; experience, which you may foster by practice; and superior writers, whom you may imitate. Theory makes the craftsman sure; experience makes him ready; imitation makes him versatile; the three together produce the greatest craftsman.'48 Nor is Geoffrey alone: a commentary on the Rhetorica ad Herennium by Thierry of Chartres (d. after 1149) enunciates the same schema.49 Teaching prompted students to engage in paraphrase and translation that was closely related to imitation, to say nothing of the types of analysis described by John of Salisbury when he gave his earlier-mentioned vignette of Bernard of Chartres' methods and style in teaching. Students learned not merely to borrow but also to accommodate what they had made their own to new contexts in their own compositions. Imitation in the best Medieval Latin authors is a complex and constantly changing process. Bad imitation could be simple, static, and sterile in its repetition of old form and content. But then as now, skillful imitation—and the juxtaposition of these two words is far from being an oxymoron—could be the hallmark of the most successful authors and texts.50

48

LI. 1705-09, ed. E. Faral, op. cit., p. 249 'Rem tria perficiunt: ars, cujus lege regaris;/Usus, quern serves; meliores, quos imiteris./Ars certos, usus promptos, imitatio reddit/Artifices aptos, tria concurrentia summos'; trans. M. Nims (Toronto 1967), p. 77. 49 Commentarius super Rhetoricam ad Herennium 2.1.1: 'Qua ratione id est arte, imitatione, exercitatione', in The Latin Rhetorical Commentaries by Thierry of Chartres, ed. K. Fredborg (Toronto 1988) (Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, Studies and Texts 84), p. 244:9-10. 50 On this point, see K. Morrison, The Mimetic Tradition of Reform in the West (Princeton, New Jersey 1982), p. ix.

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JEAN DE MEUN AND THE CASTRATION OF SATURN1 Jill Mann

Jean de Meun's section of the Roman de la Rose begins with the return of Reason, who for a second time tries to dissuade the Lover from his passionate devotion to the rose, and to direct him towards more rational kinds of love, such as friendship. In the course of her lengthy disquisitions, she is led to talk about the relations between Love (Amor) and Justice (Joutice), and to refer to the age of Saturn, when Justice held sway. Joutice, qui jadis regnot, au tens que Saturnus regne ot, cui Jupiter coupa les coilles, ses filz, con se fussent andoilles, (mout ot ci dur filz et amer) puis les gita dedanz la mer, done Venus la deesse issi, car li livres le dit issi— s'ele iert en terre revenue et fust autresint bien tenue au jor d'ui con el estoit lores, si seroit il mestiers onquores au genz antr'els qu'il s'entramassent, combien que Joutice gardassent. . . (5505—18)2 Justice reigned formerly, in the days when Saturn held sway, Saturn, whose son Jupiter cut off his testicles as though they were sausages (a harsh and bitter son indeed) and flung them into the sea, whence sprang the goddess Venus, as the book says. If Justice were to return to earth and were to be as highly regarded now as she was then, men would still need to love each other, however well they observed Justice . . . (p. 85)3

1 This article is dedicated to Peter Dronke as a small token of gratitude for the benefits of his learning and friendship which I have enjoyed over some thirty years, and for the constant inspiration of his work. 2 Le Roman de la Rose, ed. F. Lecoy, 3 vols. (Paris 1966-70). All quotations from the Roman are taken from this edition; line references are given in the text. 3 F. Horgan, The Roman de la Rose, A New Translation (Oxford 1994); I have occasionally altered Morgan's translation. Subsequent page references are given in the text.

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Having been told to listen quietly to what Reason has to say, the Lover makes no comment at this point, but when she declares her explanation to be concluded (5663—6), he immediately responds with an objection, not to the substance of what she has said, but to her use of a word 'si esbaulevree et si fole' ('so shameless and outrageous') that it could not, he asserts, be defended (5670-75; p. 87). Although his master, the God of Love, has forbidden him to utter any indecent expressions, he declares himself ready to pronounce the offending word for the purpose of reprimanding Reason. Unperturbed, Reason continues her improving discourse, and only much later, towards the end of their discussion, does the Lover again upbraid her for her improper language and reveal what the offending word is. Si ne vos tiegn pas a cortaise quant ci m'avez coilles nomees, qui ne sunt pas bien renomees en bouche a cortaise pucele. Vos, qui tant estes sage et bele, ne sai con nomer les osastes, au mains quant le mot ne glosastes par quelque cortaise parole, si con preude fame en parole. Sovent voi nei's ces norrices, dom maintes sunt baudes et nices, quant leur enfanz tienent et baignent, qu'els les debaillent et esplaignent, si les noment els autrement. Vos savez or bien se ge ment. (6898-912) Also, I do not think it was courteous of you to pronounce the word 'testicles': no well-bred girl should call them by their name. I do not know how you dared name them, you who are so wise and fair, without at least glossing the word with some courteous utterance, as a virtuous woman would when speaking of them. I often see even nurses, many of whom are bawdy and ignorant, who when they hold and bathe their charges, fondling and caressing them, use other names for those parts. You know very well whether or not I am lying, (p. 106)

Reason defends herself against this charge by saying that there is nothing wrong in naming, plainly and directly, the sexual organs which were made by God to preserve the continuity of the human race. n'encor ne faz je pas pechie se je nome les nobles choses

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par plein texte sanz metre gloses, que mes peres en paradis fist de ses propres mains jadis, et touz les autres estrumenz qui sunt pilers et argumenz a soutenir nature humaine, qui sanz els fust or casse et vaine; car volentiers, non pas enviz, mist Dex en coillons et en viz force de generacion par merveilleuse entencion, por 1'espiece avoir tourjorz vive par renovelance naive, c'est par nessance rechaable et par chaance renessable, par quoi Dex la fet tant durer qu'el ne peut la mort endurer. (6926 44) And it is not sinful of me to name, in plain and unglossed language, the noble things that my heavenly father formerly made with his own hands, together with all the other instruments, the pillars and means by which human nature is sustained and without which it would now be empty and decayed. For it was by his own will, and not against it, that God in his wonderful purpose put the generative power into the testicles and penis, in order that the race would live forever, renewed by new births. It is through a birth that it is perishable and a loss that leads to rebirth that God made it live so long that it cannot suffer death, (p. 106)

The Lover replies that although God may have made the things, he did not make the words, which are 'plein de vilenie', 'completely vile' (6949^56). Reason again replies at length, reproving him for his insulting behaviour. It was God, her father, who taught her to call things by their names, without glossing ('sanz metre gloses'; 7042-50). There is nothing 'vilains' in words themselves; if, when she had been assigning names, she had called testicles 'relics' and relics 'testicles', then doubtless the Lover would have been claiming that 'relics' was an ugly and base word (7076—85). Euphemism is simply a matter of custom; women have many different euphemisms for the male genitals, but their aversion to using their proper names does not imply a corresponding aversion to the things named. Finally, and surprisingly, Reason claims that, when she spoke of testicles, her words had a different meaning from the one the Lover attributes to them.

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En ma parole autre sen ot, au mains quant des coillons parloie, don si briefment parler voloie, que celui que tu i veuz metre; et qui bien entendroit la letre, le sen verroit en 1'escriture, qui esclarcist la fable occure. La verite dedenz reposte seroit clere, s'el iert esposte; bien 1'entendras, se bien repetes les integumanz aus poetes. La verras une grant partie des secrez de philosophic ou mout te vodras deliter, et si porras mout profiter: en delitant profiteras, en profitant deliteras; car en leur geus et en leur fables gisent deliz mout profitables souz cui leur pensees covrirent, quant le voir des fables vestirent. Si te covendroit a ce tendre, se bien veuz la parole entendre. (7128—50) My words, at least when I spoke of testicles, which I wished to mention briefly, had a different meaning from the one you want to give them, and anyone who understood the text properly would find a meaning in it which would clarify the obscure discourse. The truth concealed within would be clear if it were explained; you will certainly understand it if you recall to mind the integuments of the poets. You will find there a great number of the secrets of philosophy, in which you will gladly take delight and from which you will also be able to gain great benefit: you will profit from your enjoyment and enjoy what is profitable, for there are most profitable delights in the entertaining fables of the poets who thus covered their thoughts when they clothed the truth in fables. This is how you should approach the matter if you want to understand my words properly, (p. 109)

The Lover roundly declares that he has no interest in 'glossing' the sayings, fables and metaphors of the poets (7160—62), at least not until he has won the rose, and he emphatically reaffirms his commitment to his love, at which Reason returns to her tower and leaves him alone. These exchanges between Reason and the Lover prompt several questions which I should like to pursue. First, what might Reason have had in mind as the 'different meaning' of her reference to the castration of Saturn?4 Second, why does the argument between Reason

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and the Lover about rational and irrational love devolve into an argument about proper and improper language? In other words, what does 'glossing' have to do with love? And lastly, why should it be the myth of Saturn which provokes this disagreement? A clue to some possible answers to the first of these questions is furnished by Reason's reference to 'les integumanz aus poetes'. Lecoy's notes to his edition of the Roman explain the word 'integumanz' by citing the Integumenta Ovidii by the thirteenth-century rhetorician John of Garland. This work, which was frequently incorporated into medieval commentaries on Ovid, provides simple allegorisations of classical legends. Saturn is interpreted, conventionally enough, as representing time (from the conflation of his Greek name Kronos with Greek Chronos, 'Time'), and the castration myth is explained in these terms: Saturn means 'full-year' \satur annus], the fullness [saturatio] of the first age. His son was his enemy. We say that the time that came after cut off the father's genitals and threw them unto the chaos of the sea. Saturn is time, his privy member fertility, his son posterity, the sea is the belly, and Venus is foam.5

But John's work is only one of many that may be alluded to in Reason's remark. The Latin word integumentum, meaning 'covering' or 'clothing' was much in vogue in the twelfth century, particularly among writers associated with the school of Chartres, to denote narrative myths which were held to embody an inner truth. Peter Dronke discusses the use of this and similar terms, such as involucrum, in the first chapter of Fabulaf drawing on Edouard Jeauneau's study of its

4 For earlier discussions of this passage, see T. Hill, 'Narcissus, Pygmalion, and the Castration of Saturn: Two Mythographical Themes in the Roman de la Rose', Studies in Philology 71 (1974), 404-26, and S. Kay, The Birth of Venus in the Roman de la Rose', Exemplaria 9 (1997), 7-37. Some of the classical and medieval examples that I discuss below are considered in these articles, but the approach taken in each differs from mine, and neither discusses the notion of 'integumentum'. 3 'Saturnus satur est annus, saturatio primi/ Temporis. Huic hostis films eius erat./ Tempus quod sequitur secuisse uirilia patris/ Dicimus inque maris precipitasse chaos./ Tempus Saturnus, ubertas mentula, proles/ Posteritas, venter est mare, spuma venus'; Integumenta Ovidii, ed. F. Ghisalberti (Messina 1933), 1. 69~74. The etymological explanation of Saturn's name goes back at least to Cicero's De natura deorum; see n. 11 below. 6 Fabula: Explorations into the Uses of Myth in Medieval Platonism (Leiden-Cologne 1974), Chapter 1, Tabula: Critical Theories'.

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use in William of Conches.7 A definition is offered in the Commentary on the First Six Books of the Aeneid attributed to Bernard Silvestris: 'Integumentum est genus demostrationis sub fabulosa narratione veritatis involvens intellectum, unde etiam dicitur involucrum.' ('An integumentum is a type of revelation that wraps the understanding of truth in a fictional narrative, for which reason it is also called involucrum.')8 In line with this definition, the Commentary treats the narrative of the Aeneid as an allegorical representation of 'what the human soul, temporally situated in the human body, should do, or what it should suffer' ('in integumento describit quid agat vel quid paciatur humanus spiritus in humano corpore temporaliter positus'; p. 3: 10-11). The commentator points out that mythic integumenta can have different referential values at different times (p. 9: 16-18): Saturn, for example, is at one moment to be understood as a planet, at another as time. The significance given to the castration of Saturn is physiological in nature; interpreting the storms which beset Aeneas's ships in Book I of the poem as the gourmandising and libidinous excesses which throw the human body into turmoil, the commentary goes on to say: Accordingly we read that Venus was born in the sea from Saturn's genitals. For Saturn's genitals are the temporal qualities by which she is created: heat and moisture. These genitals are thrown into the sea because the excesses of food and drink are tossed about in the body, and when tossed about in the body, they excite sexual desire through food. Thus it is said that 'without food and wine, Venus turns frigid' [Terence, Eunuch 732] .9

7 'L'usage de la notion d'integumentum a travers les gloses de Guillaume de Conches' in E. Jeauneau, 'Lectio Philosophorum': Recherches sur I'Ecole de Chartres (Amsterdam 1973), pp. 127—92 (reprinted from Archives d'histoire doctrinale et litteraire du Moyen Age 24 (1957), 35-100). 8 The Commentary on the First Six Books of the Aeneid of Vergil Commonly Attributed to Bernardus Silvestris, ed. J. and E.Jones (Lincoln, Nebraska, and London 1977), p. 3: 14-15. Jones and Jones consider that the attribution to Bernard Silvestris, which appears in only one of the three manuscripts of the work, must be considered suspect (p. xi), but that the work itself 'reflects the literary, philosophic, and scientific currents of north-central France in the twelfth century, especially the new ideas associated with the great school at Chartres' (p. xii). 9 'Secundum hoc legimus Venerem ex virilibus Saturni natam fuisse in rnari. Virilia enim Saturni qualitates temporis sunt quibus creatur: calor et humor. Hec virilia in mare deiciuntur quoniam ciborum et potus superfluitates in corpore aguntur. Hec autem in corpore per cibos acta libidinem movent. Ideo dictum est "sine Cerere et Bacco friget Venus'" (p. 10: 18-22). A very similar interpretation is given

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Such interpretations were not, of course, an invention of the twelfth century; as the shared quotation from Terence shows, this physiological explanation is drawn from Fulgentius, who interprets the castration myth twice, once while discussing Saturn and once while discussing the birth of Venus: The name of the son of Pollus, and the husband of Ops, is Saturn, an elderly man, with his head covered, carrying a scythe. His manhood was cut off and, thrown into the sea, gave birth to Venus. Let us then hear how Philosophy interprets this. She says thus: Saturn first secured dominion in Italy; and seizing people for his harvest prerogative, he was named Saturn, for glutting (saturando} . . . He is depicted with head covered because all crops with their cover of leaves are protected in a shady enclosure. He is reported as having devoured his own sons because every season devours what it produces; and for good reason he carries a scythe, either because every season turns back on itself like the curved blades of scythes or on account of the crops; whence also he is said to have been castrated, because all the strength of crops is cut down and cast into the fluids of the belly as into the sea, just as Venus is produced from these circumstances because they necessarily produce lust. Apollophanes also in his epic poem writes that Saturn is for sacrum nun, because nus in Greek means sense, or for satorem nun, as for the divine intelligence as it creates all things. . . (1.2) Then the poets relate that when Saturn's genitals were cut off with a scythe and thrown into the sea, Venus was born from them—a piece of poetic folly meaning nothing less than that Saturn is called Chronos in Greek, for in Greek, chronos is the word for time. The powers of the seasons, that is, crops, are totally cut off by the scythe and, cast into the liquids of the belly, as it were into the sea, needs must produce lust. For abundance of satiety creates lust, as Terence says: 'Venus grows cold without Geres and Bacchus.' (II. I) 10

in another work attributed to Bernard Silvestris, the Commentary on Martianus Capella's De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii, ed. H. Westra (Toronto 1986), 56-7. 10 L. Whitbread, Fulgentius the Mythographer, Translated from the Latin, with Introduction (Columbus, Ohio 1971), pp. 49, 66-7. 'Saturnus Polluris films dicitur, Opis maritus, senior, uelato capite, falcem ferens; cuius uirilia abscisa et in mari proiecta Uenerem genuerunt. Itaque quid sibi de hoc Philosophia sentiat, audiamus. Turn ilia: Saturnus primus in Italia regnum obtinuit; hicque per annonae praerogationem ad se populos adtrahens a saturando Saturnus dictus est. . . Uelato uero capite ideo fingitur, quod omnes fructus foliorum obnupti tegantur umbraculo. Filios uero suos comedisse fertur, quod omne tempus quodcumque gignat consumit; falcem etiam fert non inmerito, siue quod omne tempus in se reuergat ut curuamina falcium siue fructuum propter; unde etiam et castratus dicitur, quod omnes fructuum uires abscisae atque in humoribus uiscerum uelut in mare proiectae, sicut illic Uenerem,

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An even older source for allegorising interpretation of the myth is Cicero's De natura deorum, where it is explained in terms of Stoic cosmology (here Saturn is the castrator of his father Caelus rather than castrated by his son Jupiter): For example, an ancient belief prevailed throughout Greece that Caelus was mutilated by his son Saturn, and Saturn himself thrown into bondage by his son Jove: now these immoral fables enshrined a decidedly clever scientific theory. Their meaning was that the highest element of celestial ether or fire, which by itself generates all things, is devoid of that bodily part which requires union with another for the work of procreation. By Saturn again they denoted that being who maintains the course and revolution of seasons and periods of time, the deity actually so designated in Greek, for Saturn's Greek name is Kronos, which is the same as chronos, a space of time. The Latin designation 'Saturn' on the other hand is due to the fact that he is 'saturated' or 'satiated with years' (anni]\ the fable is that he was in the habit of devouring his sons—meaning that Time devours the ages and gorges himself insatiably with the years that are past. Saturn was bound by Jove in order that Time's courses might not be unlimited, and that Jove might fetter him by the bonds of the stars.11

The De natura deorum was readily available to medieval readers,12 and the influence of this passage may be seen, for example, in John of ita et libidinem gignant necesse est. Nam et Apollofanes in epico carmine scribit Saturnum quasi sacrum nun—nus enim Grece sensus dicitur—aut satorem nun quasi diuinum sensum creantem omnia . . . Denique ferunt poetae quod exsectis falce Saturni uirilibus atque in mare proiectis exinde Uenus nata sit, illud nihilominus ostendere uolens poetica uanitas quod Saturnus Grece Cronos dicitur; chronos enim Grece tempus uocatur. Abscisae ergo uires temporis, id est fructus, falce quam maxime atque in humoribus uiscerum uelut in mari proiectae libidinem gignant necesse est. Saturitas enim abundantia libidinem creat, unde et Terentius ait: "Sine Cerere et Libero friget Uenus"'; Fulgentius, Opera, ed. R. Helm (Stuttgart 1898, repr. 1970), pp. 17-18, 39-40. " 'Nam cum vetus haec opinio Graeciam opplevisset, exsectum Caelum a filio Saturno, vinctum autem Saturnum ipsum a filio love, physica ratio non inelegans inclusa est in impias fabulas. Caelestem enim altissimam aetheriamque naturam, id est igneam, quae per sese omnia gigneret, vacare voluerunt ea parte corporis quae coniunctione alterius egeret ad procreandum. Saturnum autem eum esse voluerunt qui cursum et conversionem spatiorum ac temporum contineret; qui deus Graece id ipsum nomen habet: Kpovoq enim dicitur, qui est idem Xpovoq, id est spatium temporis. Saturnus autem est appellatus quod saturaretur annis; ex se enim natos comesse fingitur solitus, quia consumit aetas temporum spatia annisque praeteritis insaturabiliter expletur; vinctus autem a love ne immoderatos cursus haberet atque ut eum siderum vinclis alligaret'; Cicero, De natura deorum, ed. and trans. H. Rackham (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1961) II.63-4. 12 See M. Lapidge, 'The Stoic Inheritance', A History of Twelfth-Century Philosophy, ed. P. Dronke (Cambridge 1988), pp. 81-112, at pp. 101-2, 107-8.

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Garland's etymological explanation of Saturn's name, mentioned above. The Third Vatican Mythographer also quotes this etymology, giving Cicero as his authority, and combines Fulgentius's physiological explanation with a cosmological explanation in the Ciceronian style: The scientists say that this story is told because unless moisture descended to the earth from the sky, nothing at all would be created.13

What the twelfth century brought to these traditional interpretations was a sense of excitement about the possibilities of embodying truths about the natural world in myths, which could in consequence act as keys to the hidden connections of natural phenomena. Sometimes, as in the Cosmographia of Bernard Silvestris, the myths were invented,14 but sometimes they were the traditional stories of Roman mythology, adapted for this purpose. Peter Dronke has shown how William of Conches's commentary on Macrobius's Commentary on the Dream of Scipio takes a much more positive attitude to the possibilities of fable than does Macrobius himself. In William's usage, integumentum 'can mean both a fable that covers hidden meanings (especially moral and cosmological ones), and the hidden meanings of the fables themselves. The integumentum is primarily the covering, but also what is covered by it—so closely are the two seen as related in William's thought'.15 In this respect, the word resembles Jean de Meun's use of the word 'glose', which, paradoxically, can refer both to a linguistic 'covering' (as when Reason uses it to refer to the euphemisms that she prefers to avoid; 6928), and to an interpretation which retrieves the deeper meaning in figurative speech (as when the Lover speaks of 'glossing' the sayings, fables, and metaphors of the poets; 7162). This sense of the equal importance of covering and covered, the sense that truth is covered only in order to be unveiled, and that the uncovering process invests (to use an appropriate metaphor) the truth with mystery, will prove as relevant to the Roman de la Rose as to the allegorisation of classical myth.

13 'Physici tamen hoc ideo fictum asserunt, quod nisi humor de caelo ad terram descenderet, nihil penitus crearetur'; Scriptores Rerum Mythicamm Latini Tres, ed. G. Bode (Celle 1834; repr. 1968), Mythogr. III. 1.7 (p. 155). For the etymology of Saturn's name, see III. 1.8 (p. 156). 14 Bernardus Silvestris, Cosmographia, ed. P. Dronke (Leiden 1978). On Bernard's use of myth to convey a new cosmic model of God-in-matter, see B. Stock, Myth and Science in the Twelfth Century (Princeton, New Jersey 1972), esp. pp. 14-17, 125. 15 Fabula, p. 25.

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William's commentary on Macrobius refers to the myth of Saturn's castration when he is discussing 'the range of fables that have the potential to be integumenta' (Fabula, p. 25). . . . consider Jupiter cutting off his father's testicles and throwing them in the sea, so that Venus is born. This is nothing but that the testicles signify the fruits of the earth, through which, in the course of time, the seed from the bowels of the earth is diffused more and more. Jupiter cuts off the testicles of Cronos, and this is nothing but that the warmth of the upper element ripens the fruits and makes them ready for cutting off and gathering. The fruits are cast into the sea, i.e. into the hollow maw of the human belly, and thus Venus—that is, sensual delight—is born.16

William's interpretation clearly has affinities with the traditional explanations illustrated above, yet it differs from them in its imaginative fusion of the physiological and the cosmological: human physiology participates in the larger rhythms of the cosmos. An even more ambitious interpretation of the castration myth which similarly links human sexuality with cosmic order is to be found in another of Macrobius's works, the Saturnalia. Here Macrobius is talking about Saturn as the castrator of Caelus. Starting from the identification of Saturn/Kronos with Chronos, Time, Macrobius explains that 'mythici' distort by their fictions, but 'physici' bring the story back to an image ('similitudinem') of truth. They say that he cut off the genitals of his father Caelus, from which, when they were thrown into the sea, Venus was created; arising from the foam whence she was created, she took the name Aphrodite. By which they mean that, when chaos existed, Time did not exist, since time is a measure derived from the revolutions of the heavens. Thus time takes its origin from the heavens . . . And as the seeds (semina) of all things which were to be brought to birth after the heaven flowed down from heaven, and all the elements which were to make up the plenitude of the world were brought forth from those seeds, when the world was completed in all its parts and members, at a certain time

16 Trans. Dronke, Fabula, p. 26. '. . . velut luppiter patri suo abscidit virilia et proiecit in mare, unde nata est Venus; quod non est aliud, nisi quia per virilia fructus terre intelliguntur, per quos scilicet semen a visceribus terre per temporis successionem magis magisque diffunditur. luppiter virilia eius abscidit, et hoc nichil aliud est, nisi quod superioris elementi calor fructus ad maturitatem perducit et aptitudinem, ut abscidi possit et colligi. Hec autem virilia in mare, id est in lacunam et ingluviem humani ventris, proiciuntur, et inde Venus, id est luxuria, nascitur' (Fabula, p. 70).

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there came to an end the procession of seeds from heaven to the conception of those elements, since they were now fully created. The capacity for generating the perpetual propagation of animal beings out of moisture was transferred to Venus, so that all things would then be procreated out of the copulation of male and female.17 Macrobius goes on to explain that Saturn has a scythe because time cuts off all things; he eats his children because time devours all things; he is dethroned by his son because one moment of time is succeeded by another, and he is chained because times are joined together by the immutable laws of nature. Yet Macrobius's elaborate interpretation in the Saturnalia is oddly contradicted by his use of the castration myth in the Commentary on the Dream of Scipio, where it is offered as an illustration of the kind of unedifying narrative that philosophers ought not to refer to. In the Commentary, Macrobius first distinguishes between stories which are fictitious in both form and content, and those that use fictional techniques to convey an inner truth; he then goes on to divide the latter into stories that contain 'unworthy elements' and those that preserve propriety in the narrative as well as in their meaning. In the former case, 'the contexture of the narrative is made up of elements base and unworthy of the gods and seemingly monstrous— such as gods who are adulterers, Saturn cutting off the privy parts of his father Caelus and himself flung into chains by the son who seizes his kingdom—and this whole kind of fable philosophers prefer to ignore . . ,'18 (Here again, Saturn is the castrator rather than

'' 'Saturnum enirn in quantum mythici fictionibus distrahunt, in tantum physici ad quandam veri similitudinem revocant. hunc aiunt abscidisse Caeli patris pudenda, quibus in mare deiectis Venerem procreatam, quae a spuma unde caluit 'A(ppo5{tr| nomen accepit. ex quo intellegi volunt, cum chaos esset, tempora non fuisse, siquidem tempus est certa dimensio quae ex caeli conversione colligitur. inde ab ipso putatur Kpovoi; qui, ut diximus, Xpovcx; est. cumque semina rerum omnium post caelum gignendarum de caelo fluerent et elementa universa quae mundo plenitudinem facerent ex illis seminibus fundarentur, ubi mundus omnibus suis partibus membrisque perfectus est, certo iam tempore finis factus est procedendi de caelo semina ad elementorum conceptionem, quippe quae iam plena fuerant procreata. animalium vero aeternam propagationem ad Venerem generandi facultas ex umore translata est, ut per coitum maris feminaeque cuncta deinceps gignerentur'; Macrobius, Saturnalia, I.viii.6-8, ed. J. Willis (Leipzig 1963). 18 Trans. Dronke, Fabula, p. 27; 'contextio narrationis per turpia et indigna numinibus ac monstro similia componitur ut di adulteri, Saturnus pudenda Caeli patris abscidens et ipse rursus a filio regni potito in vincla coniectus, quod genus totum philosophi nescire malunt'; Commentarium in Somnium Scipionis, 1.2.11, ed. J. Willis (Stuttgart 1970).

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the castrated; William points out what he thinks to be Macrobius's confusion on this point.19) As Peter Dronke shows, William silently ignores Macrobius's strictures on the 'base' nature of this myth in the interests of reading it as an integumentum. While William's commentary therefore provides an example of what Jean de Meun's Reason might have meant by 'the integuments of the poets', Macrobius's commentary provides a model for the Lover's rejection of the story as 'unworthy' in its subject-matter. Other writers besides Macrobius rejected the castration story as a subject for allegorical interpretation. Macrobius's disapproval may derive from Plato, who banishes from his ideal republic fictitious narratives which represent gods and heroes in a bad light, and cites the castration of Uranus by Cronos as an example (Republic Book II, 377-8). From a different standpoint, the allegorisation of pagan myths is vigorously rejected by St Augustine, who likewise cites Saturn as an example. In the City of God, Augustine attacks the allegorical interpretations of the first-century antiquary, Varro, whose encyclopaedic work on the pagan gods, the Divine Antiquities, survives only as it is quoted or used by later writers.20 Augustine finds Varro's attempts to interpret pagan myths as allegories of cosmic or natural processes to be riddled with inconsistency and incoherence. 'We are told', says Varro, 'that Saturn had the habit of devouring his offspring. This is because the seed returns to the place from which it is produced. The story that a clod of earth was given him to devour as a substitute for Jupiter, symbolizes the fact that before the invention of ploughing, the seedlings, after sowing, were covered with soil by hand.' According to that, Saturn ought to be called the earth, not the seed; for it is the earth which, in a way, devours what it has engendered, since the seeds are produced from the earth and return to the earth to be taken into it. As for the story of the substitution of a clod of earth, what has that to do with the fact that the seed used to be covered with soil by hand? How can this covering with soil mean that it is not devoured like the others? The explanation assumes that the man who put on the soil removed the seed (as in the fable Saturn was offered the clod, and then Jupiter was removed), whereas in fact

19

See Dronke, Fabula, p. 29 (Latin text p. 72). Jean Pepin has suggested that Macrobius's interpretation in the Saturnalia may be indebted to Varro; Mythe et allegorie: les origines grecques et les contestations judeo-chretiennes (Paris 1958), pp. 328-33. He also suggests that Varro himself may have been influenced by the Stoic theory of cosmic insemination, which is reproduced in Cicero's De natura deorum (see n. 11 above). 20

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the covering of the seed by the soil results in its being devoured more thoroughly. And again, on this showing, Jupiter is the seed, not the cause of the seed, as I said just now. But what can one expect? How can a sensible interpretation be found for such nonsense? . . . 'The myth of the castration of Heaven (Uranus) by his son Saturn, stands for the fact that the divine seed belongs to Saturn, not to Heaven.' Varro's interpretation, in so far as it is intelligible at all, depends on the fact that nothing in the sky is produced from seeds. But notice, if Saturn is the son of Heaven, then he is the son of Jupiter; for we have innumerable earnest assurances that Jupiter is identical with the sky. That is the way those theories which do not spring from truth destroy themselves without any help from outside. Varro says that Saturn was called Chronos, a Greek word meaning 'time'; for 'without the passage of time', he says, 'the seed cannot be productive.' Many other things are said about Saturn and they all have reference to seed. And surely Saturn, with all that power of his, should have been competent to deal with seeds by himself. Then why were other deities brought in, especially Liber and Libra (that is, Ceres)? And when Varro comes to deal with these divinities, he says so much about seeds that he might never have mentioned Saturn.21

In objecting to Reason's allusion to the castration of Saturn, Jean de Meun's Lover thus finds himself in good company; Plato, Macrobius, and St Augustine would all have agreed with him. So it is likely that Jean de Meun focussed on this story because he knew it was already a controversial one. But he gives the objections an original twist. The Lover does not object to the story for its unedifying subject-matter, but for Reason's use of indecent language. The story is rejected, not by a high-minded philosopher or devout Christian, but by a worldly lover who finds it not suitable for polite society (especially in the mouth of a woman). Here we can glimpse one of the novel uses to which Jean de Meun puts the myth: it demonstrates that the God of Love has his own unique code of morality, which is as self-assured and as peremptory in its claims as that of St Augustine. The 'integuments of the poets' had thus made available a wide range of interpretations of the castration myth, most of which were in texts accessible to Jean de Meun. His use of the word integumenta suggests that he was thinking first and foremost of a medieval Latin text (or texts), but it is impossible to be certain which he had in mind. For when we search through the poem for clues to the relevance of City of God, VII. 19; trans. H. Bettenson (Harmondsworth 1972), pp. 276-8.

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any of the available allegorical interpretations to the Roman, we meet with disappointment. One might expect the notion of cosmic insemination to appear in the conversation between Nature and Genius, but there is no sign of it. (Nor, indeed, is there any trace of it in Alan of Lille's De planctu Naturae, the source for Jean's idea of Nature as goddess of sexuality, or even in Alan's own source, the Cosmographia of Bernard Silvestris. And for Alan as for Bernard, Saturn is a planet rather than a pagan god; neither of them refers to the castration myth.) It is true, however, that Genius refers to the castration of Saturn, en passant, and in an apparently casual manner. In the heavenly park which is the reward of earthly lovers, he says, there will be an eternal springtime, more beautiful than any seen before— nei's quant regnoit Saturnus, qui tenoit les dorez aages, cui Jupiter fist tant d'outrages, ses filz, et tant le tourmenta que les coillons li souplanta. (20002-6) . . . not even in the reign of Saturn, who ruled over the age of gold and on whom his son Jupiter inflicted such injury and torment as to cut off his testicles, (p. 308)

Genius then goes on to give his own interpretation of the myth, which is uncompromisingly literal. So far from signifying anything about time, or cosmic insemination, or the role of food and drink in awakening desire, the story of Saturn's castration provokes a series of reflections on the awfulness of losing one's testicles. Anyone who castrates a man exposes him to hurt and shame, causes him to lose the love of his sweetheart or wife, and takes away his courage, for all castrated men are great cowards. So the man who castrates another, even if he has committed no mortal sin, has done great wrong against Nature, by taking away the power of procreation. Genius's words resonate, not with allegorical meanings, but with other examples of castration (voluntary or involuntary) in the Roman, such as the reference to Abelard in the speech of Amis (8759-68) or to Origen in the speech of Nature (17022-8). Castration becomes the true meaning of the Saturn myth; it really is a story about losing one's balls. This is a second aspect of Jean de Meun's playful use of this myth: the 'integuments of the poets' are invoked only to be dismissed, ban-

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ished along with Reason. After centuries of allegorising interpretation, the story of Saturn is returned to a literal meaning; in the world of the Roman it functions simply as an example of the worst fate that can befall a lover. Maureen Quilligan has argued that this narrowing of meaning in the Roman de la Rose is a direct consequence of the Lover's insistence on courtly euphemism and his refusal of plain language. The profundity of allegory, as she correctly perceives, lies in what it reveals about the polysemy of plain language. The use of euphemism substitutes for the penetration of the meanings embedded in language itself a simple process of encoding and decoding, which brings one back to a mundane reality that is already known. To speak in euphemisms about sexuality, Jean shows, is to limit the non-literal meaning of language to the carnal, the merely erotic. Lifting the veil of such metaphorical language is simply to lift up skirts, to discover physical objects only. When one uses the flesh itself as a veil, which Raison tries to do with the myth of Venus, one can incarnate spiritual truths, which, presented in their own unshadowed nature, would be too bright for the vision of men. Amor's commandment to avoid ribald speech, on the other hand, turns into a perfect inversion of the normal allegorical process of metaphor. In the polite diction of the religion of love, the 'allegorical' level of meaning attached to any metaphor is merely physical. One calls a testicle a 'relic' and asks the reader by innuendo to translate the term 'relic' into the physical object which has no natural association with the term itself. The 'reasonable' use of language, however, which calls the naturally numinous objects by their traditional names, permits an allegorical meaning which is truly spiritual. If one calls a testicle a testicle one has the opportunity to show what spiritual purpose these physical objects in themselves 'witness' (as allegory often operates to reveal the sacred truth not only hidden in everyday objects, but in the plain terms used for those objects). Euphemism subverts the allegorical use of metaphor.22

The implications of the Lover's choice of euphemism rather than the plain naming that may become an integumentum become fully evident, Quilligan claims, at the end of the poem. Here Reason's fantasy, that relics might be called 'testicles' and testicles 'relics' seems 22 'Words and Sex: The Language of Allegory in the De planctu naturae, the Roman de la Rose, and Book III of the Faerie Queene\ Allegorica 2 (1977), 195-216, at pp. 199-200.

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to become a reality, as the Lover describes an act of sexual intercourse in terms of a pilgrimage to a religious shrine. His penis becomes a pilgrim's staff, his testicles the scrip or pouch that hangs from it. With these he works his way into the interior of the 'shrine' which lies between the ivory pillars of the lady's legs. Tout mon hernois, tel con jou port, se porter le puis jusqu'ou port, voudrai au reliques touchier, se je 1'an puis tant aprouchier. Lors ai tant fet et tant erre a tout mon bourdon defferre qu'entre les .II. biaus pilerez, con viguereus et legerez, m'agenoilloi san demourer, car mout oi grant fain d'aourer le biau saintuaire honorable de queur devost et piteable; . . . Tres an sus un po la courtine qui les reliques ancourtine; de I'ymage lors m'apressai que du saintuaire pres sai; mout la besai devostemant; et por estuier sauvement vos mon bourdon metre en 1'archiere, ou 1'escharpe pendoit darriere. Bien 1'i cuidai lancier de bout, mes il resort, et jou rebout; mes riens ne vaut, toujourz recule, n'i peut entrer por chose nule; car un paliz dedanz trouvai que je bien sant, mes pas nou vai, don 1'archiere ert dedanz hourdee des lors qu'el fu primes fondee, auques pres de la bordeiire, s'an iert plus fort et plus seiire. Formant m'i convint assaillir, souvant hurter, souvant faillir. (21553—88) I longed to touch the relics with my harness, if I could carry it, just as it was, as far as the haven, and bring it close enough to them. Then, having done so much and wandered so far with my unshod staff, I knelt without delay, full of agility and vigour, between the two fair pillars, for I was consumed with desire to worship at that lovely and venerable shrine with devout and reverent heart. . . . I partly raised the curtain that screened the relics, and, drawing near to the image that I knew to be close to the sanctuary, I kissed it devoudy. Next, I

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wanted to sheathe my staff by putting it into the aperture while the scrip hung outside. I tried to thrust it in at one go, but it came out and I tried again, to no avail because it sprang out every time and nothing I did could make it go in. There was a barrier within, which I could feel but could not see. When the aperture was first constructed, it had been placed there, close to the edge to fortify it and make it stronger and more secure. I attacked it vigorously and hurled myself at it time and time again, but in vain. (pp. 332—3)

In Quilligan's view, Jean de Meun's aim in this final passage is to show that the results of courtly language are 'inherently obscene'; 'courtly metaphor strips language of its ability to speak of the larger purpose of sexuality' (pp. 206-7). On lifting the linguistic veil, we find only the physical act, denuded of any accompanying emotional or spiritual reality. As Christine de Pisan indignantly said of the Roman de la Rose, 'Does one not know how men normally behave with women?'23 Yet this is an objection that could equally be made against many examples of 'the integuments of the poets'. The strange and disturbing story of divine castration becomes, on decoding, a simple account of the natural cycles of seed-time, growth and harvest, or of the effects of excessive food and drink on the body, or of the inexorable processes of time. Peter Dronke discusses William of Conches's treatment of the story of the philosopher Numenius, who dreamed that he had seen the goddesses of Eleusis standing dressed as prostitutes before an open brothel, in token that 'he had debased the Eleusinian mysteries by divulging an interpretation of them' (Fabula, p. 53). Where Macrobius took Numenius's crime to be 'the betrayal of an idea of great profundity', the debasement of mysteries which belonged only to initiates who had struggled to comprehend them, William regards Numenius as guilty of destroying the sense of the sacred 'by reducing it to something trivial, in order to say "That's all there is to it!"' The example that William gives of what Numenius did is an interpretation of the Ceres and Proserpina myth in terms of the planetary movements of the earth and moon. The meaning of the myth is something that can be perfectly well described in plain, 'unglossed' terms. 'Thus the hidden meaning, being unknown, was precious; known, it grew base' (Fabula, p. 54).

23

Le Debat sur Le Roman de la Rose, ed. E. Hicks (Paris 1977), p. 20: 277-8: 'Ne sect on comment les hommes habitent aux femmes naturellement?'

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Cynical as this may seem, if we follow through the implications of William's observations here, we can see that one role of the integumentum is to clothe the processes of everyday reality with a sense of momentousness and mystery. The 'wrapping' process is a process of defamiliarisation; the rediscovery of the known generates both excitement and wonderment. What is uncovered is not precisely the same as what was covered; the movements of the planets, the natural cycles of growth and harvest are seen, not in the fragmented terms of everyday experience, but as part of a cosmic order that asks to be envisaged as a whole, and thus takes on the quality of a mystery, even though its manifestations are familiar to the point of banality. And something similar (though not, perhaps, identical) could be said of the representation of sexuality at the end of the Roman de la Rose. It is not just that Jean de Meun breaks new ground by bringing the physical act within the scope of literary treatment; it is also that the linguistic play represented by the elaborate sexual metaphors creates at the textual level that sense of excess that marks off erotic experience from animal coupling. Linguistic excitement is translated into sexual excitement; the Lover's penetration of the lady's body is matched by the reader's penetration of his meaning. It is true that Jean de Meun's procedure suppresses the female partner in this act of intercourse, making her into a merely physical object; it is also true that it ignores the emotional and intellectual elements in sexual union. Instead, the body becomes the goal of reading, as well as of loving. The courtly euphemisms may exclude allegory, but they admit the bodily with a fullness rarely encountered elsewhere in medieval literature. Like an integumentum they cover and uncover at the same time, making a physical reality the goal of a process of discovery. Just as the 'integuments of the poets' allowed medieval writers to contemplate natural processes as a mystery in and of themselves, apart from a divinely crafted universe, so Jean de Meun's 'gloses' allowed sexuality to exist as a subject in its own right, with religion reduced to the mere vehicle by which it is realised. Centuries later, we have seen the bodily installed at the centre of our culture, as representations of the sexual act become the sine qua non of literature and film. For better or worse, it was Jean de Meun who led the way.

ON THE TEXT AND INTERPRETATION OF ABELARD'S PIANCTUS Giovanni Orlandi

'The poetic value of these poems is of minor interest. [. . .] They deal with materials taken from the books of Genesis, Judges and Kings, in the same order as the Bible. The narration does not reveal a born poet, rather a brightly sensitive, eloquent and sympathetic thinker." After these disparaging remarks, betraying a romantic flavour in their sharp separation of poetry and thought, the main editor of Abelard's Planctus, Wilhelm Meyer, proceeds to credit the poet with strictly technical achievements, especially in some domains—metrics and, presumably, music—where the impact of the philosopher's innovations was, in his opinion, of the utmost importance.2 The path towards a full appreciation of the literary value of this cycle of six rhythmical compositions, put together by Abelard for Heloise and her nuns of the Paraclete, was opened up only in the 1960s by two scholars of distinct generations, Wolfram von den Steinen and Peter Dronke. It is thanks to them that we now recognise to its full extent the originality of Abelard's Planctus in comparison with their direct sources: their biblical counterparts along with their currently circulating commentaries. To turn now to the piece which has a specific interest for the present discussion, the Planctus uirginum Israel super filia lepte Galadite: after a paper published by Dronke in 1965, which is the first substantial

I use the abbreviation AH for Analecta Hymnica Medii Aevi. 1 W. Meyer, Tetri Abaelardi planctus I II IV V VI' (first 1891), in Id., Gesammelte Abhandlungen zur mittellateinischen Rythmik, I (Berlin 1905), p. 357. But this scholar had already qualified the study of medieval Latin poetry in general as 'ein brotloses Studium, aber notwendig und wichtig' in the interest of Kulturgeschichte; cf. Meyer (and W. Brambach), Tetri Abaelardi planctus (III.) virginum Israel super filia Jeptae Galaditae' (first published 1885), in Meyer, Gesammelte Abhandlungen, I, p. 340. 2 Meyer, 'Abaelardi planctus I II IV V VF, pp. 358-61; cf. p. 357: 'Dagegen in den 6 Klagen zeigt sich jene Kiihnheit der Erfindung neuer Zeilen, der Zusammenfugung neuer Strophen und des Aufbaues ganzer Gedichte, welche rnit den kiihnsten derartigen Schopfungen der friiheren Meister dieser Kunst, der alten Griechen des 7.-4. Jahrhunderts vor Christus, es aufnimmt.'

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contribution to the understanding of this kind of poetry,3 von den Steinen4 demonstrated that, until the twelfth century, the commentaries on Abelard's source, Judges 11, 29—40, treated only the doctrinal and juridical side of the story or its spiritual (that is 'typical' or 'figural') interpretation; nobody showed any real interest in the personality of the two figures featuring in this drama: Jephtha, who rashly promised God, if he gave him the victory over his enemies, to sacrifice the first member of his family he would encounter returning from the battle, and his unnamed daughter, innocent victim of such a rash vow. And it is precisely on this aspect—the two figures of the story, their emotions and thoughts—that Abelard focuses his poem; still more, in this recreation of the myth the daughter rises to the status of protagonist of the entire drama. After a fascinating chapter on these poems, in a book of 1970, dealing in particular with the planctus for Samson,5 Dronke, in a second, more complex article of 1971, written in collaboration with Margaret Alexiou,6 refined and deepened his analysis of the piece on Jephtha's daughter and, above all, carried out fresh researches about sources and parallels in various epochs and areas, focusing on the final, extraordinary episode of the wedding/execution ceremony and showing how many cultural streams might have crossed together in Abelard's poetry without impairing at all its original flavour. If, so many years after this authoritative essay on a great poem (an essay which has the single flaw, I think, of accepting Bernhard Bischoff's suggestion about pseudo-Philo's Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum as Abelard's direct source),7 I turn again to more technical problems, I hope to be able to prove, in dealing with them, their relevance to the poet3

P. Dronke, 'Medieval Poetry—I: Abelard', The Listener 74 (1965), 841-45. 'Die Planctus Abaelards—Jephthas Tochter', Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 4 (1967), 122~44. Another important paper, concerning the whole cycle, was printed in Wolfram von den Steinen, Menschen im Mittelalter (Bern and Munich 1967), pp. 215-30. 5 'Peter Abelard: Planctus and Satire' in Poetic Individuality in the Middle Ages (Oxford 1970), Chapter 4, pp. 14—49. There has been a second, enlarged edition of this book (London 1986) (Westfield Publications in Medieval Studies 1). 6 'The Lament of Jephtha's Daughter: Themes, Traditions, Originality', now in Dronke, Intellectuals and Poets in Medieval Europe (Rome 1992) (Edizioni di storia e letteratura, Studi e testi 183), pp. 345-388. 7 Ibid., pp. 345-51, 378-88 (with n. 49). None of the parallels here stated strikes me as really cogent enough to demonstrate direct dependency; I would rather think of coincidence in independent developments of some themes of the biblical episode. Nor is the idea of composing a threnos on some biblical story so original that it could not have occurred twice in twelve centuries. From this point of view I still 4

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ical and cultural meaning of this planctus and of the whole cycle it belongs to. The planctus for Jephtha's daughter8 is, according to its metrical pattern, a sequence of special form; and the same may be asserted of other planctus by this author. On the one hand, they resemble some archaic specimens of the genre, such as Rex caeli,9 Sancte Paule pastor bone,10 Cantica uirginis Eulaliae and Dominus caeli rex et conditor,n whose qualifying features are a great variety of verse length and the exact repetitions (responsiones} of long series of strophes (uersiculi). On the other hand, it has been surmised that they show some link with the Romance lai or the German Leich.12 Indeed in one case, if we compare the first section of Planctus super filia lepte with the beginning of the Lai des pucelles., the parallelism is so striking that it cannot be casual.13 Yet the typical lai, as a whole, does not show exact responsiones between large sections of the text; 14 this is rather a

prefer Dronke's paper of 1965, representing the real turning point for the study of Abelard's planctus in the twentieth century. 8 After Meyer's, the main editions of Abelard's planctus, to which I refer in the following footnotes, are: G. Dreves, in AH 48 (Leipzig 1905), pp. 223-232; Pietro Abelardo, I «Planctus», ed. G. Vecchi (Modena 1951). The planctus for Jephtha's daughter is edited also by von den Steinen, 'Die Planctus Abaelards', pp. 142-44 (with serious misprints). 9 Ed. P. Dronke, 'The Beginnings of the Sequence' (first published 1965), in Id., The Medieval Poet and his World (Roma 1984) (Edizioni di storia e letteratura, Studi e testi 164), pp. 116-17. 10 Ed. H. Spanke, 'Rhythmen- und Sequenzenstudien' (first published 1931) in Id., Studien z.u Sequent, Lai und Leich, ed. U. Aarburg (Darmstadt 1977), pp. 24-25. 11 Ed. P. von Winterfeld, 'Rhythmen- und Sequenzenstudien', I 'Die lateinische Eulaliensequenz und ihre Sippe', ^eitschrift fiir deutsches Altertum und deutsche Litteratur 54 = NF 33 (1901), 133-47; W. Bulst, 'Buona pulcella fut Eulalia' (first published in 1971), in Id., Lateinisches Mittelalter. Gesammelte Beitrdge, ed. W. Berschin (Heidelberg 1984), pp. 81-91. Both these editions include a metrical analysis of the texts. 12 J. Stevens, 'Medieval Song', The Early Middles Ages to 1300 in New Oxford History of Music II, ed. R. Crocker and D. Hiley (Oxford-New York 1990), p. 429: The planctus of Peter Abelard [. . .] are all in lai form.' 13 For an accurate comparison, see H. Spanke, 'Sequenz und Lai' (first published 1938), in Id., Studien z.u Sequenz., Lai und Leich, pp. 163-164: 'Die (trotz aller Verschiedenheiten) auffallende Ahnlichkeit der Abschnitte nach Aufbau und Anordnung, besonders auch nach der musikalischen Gestalt, ist gewiss kein Zufall. [. . .] Die benutzten 9- und HSilbner, mit der Zasur 3+3+3, bezw. 3'+3'+3, sind in der mlat. und der romanischen Lyrik eine grosse Seltenheit.' Cf. Stevens, op. cit. p. 429: 'The Planctus virginum Israel [. . .] was the model for the French Lai des Pucelles—or the other way around.' 14 In the thorough analysis of the various patterns of lai furnished by Spanke, op. cit., pp. 171-201, I could not find long responsiones comparable to those of the primitive sequence or of Abelard's planctus', cf. Stevens, op. cit., pp. 428-29.

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feature of the Leich, whose geographical habitat does not overlap with Abelard's15—leaving aside the consideration that representatives of such vernacular genres are hardly attested in the first half of the twelfth century.16 Thus, in order to give an idea of the milieu in which these compositions emerged, one has to turn to the development, in the generations which immediately precede Abelard, of the literary genres relevant to their contents (planctus) or their form (sequence). If the anonymous poem n. 100 of the Carmina Burana (Dido's lament) is to be dated to the same period of our poems (according to Peter Dronke, 'probably in the decades 1130-50'),17 then we find a planctus written in the shape of a sequence, i.e. a series of strophes articulated by pairs with few exceptions. The variety in the measure of lines and the difference of one (pair of) strophe(s) from another distinguish this composition, and others of the same kind, from the so called 'regular sequence', in which the strophes tend to the uniformity of the hymn, and make it similar to Abelard's planctus. There is, however, a feature which definitely distances Abelard's poems from Dido's lament: the monosyllabic rhymes, which are the majority in Abelard, as against the disyllabic ones consistently adopted in the latter. Still, these 'half rhymes' must not have been perceived as so antiquated at the time, no more archaic than the non-uniformity in the shape of strophes: suffice it to cast a glance at the group of sequences classified as 'transitional' in the Analecta hymnica medii aevi, a kind of composition widely circulating in the first half of the twelfth century.18 Apart from all the difficulties affecting a correct chronological assessment of the single pieces,19 let us briefly

15 See C. Marz, article 'Lai, Leich' in Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart, Sachteil, V (Kassel-Stuttgart, second edition 1996), col. 863: 'Insgesamt weist der deutsche Leich weniger Irregularitaten auf als der Lai. Doppel- bis Quadrupelversikel—oft mit KadenzendifFerenzierung—bestimmen in der Regel die Form, fast immer begleitet von Repetitionen groBerer Einheiten.' 16 It is impossible at the moment to discuss ghosts such as the 'Celtic laf as the mother of all European lais and Leichs. 17 P. Dronke, 'Dido's Lament: from Medieval Latin Lyric to Chaucer' (first published 1986), now in Id., Intellectuals and Poets, p. 435. Cf. ibid., pp. 432-35, for the text of the poem. According to Hans Spanke, review of Hilka-Schumann's Carmina Burana I 2, Literaturblatt fur germanische und romanische Philologie 64 (1943), coll. 40-41, CB 100 must be later than Abelard: 'Die laiformige Didoklage Nr. 100 liegt im Stil nahe an den Planctus Abaelards, zeigt metrisch allerdings jiingere Ziige.' 18 AH 54, pp. 3-140, nn. 1-91. 19 Cf. R. Crocker, 'Medieval Chant' in Crocker and Hiley, op. cit., p. 288: 'As with all categories of chant, the chronology of individual sequences in the eleventh

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331

consider, for example, two sequences, Laudes crucis attollamus20 and Congaudentes exsultemus?1 both probably datable to the second half of the eleventh century but still widely diffused afterwards. Whereas the former consists of strophes (though varying in length) composed of rhythmical verses derived from the cataleptic trochaic tetrameter, thus following a line of tendency which lead to the 'regular sequence', the latter is considerably freer and more erratic in its strophical arrangement, admitting lines of very different origin and rhythm.22 And whereas in Laudes crucis the rhymes are regularly disyllabic and accompany each verse, in the first half of Congaudentes, which is probably the original nucleus of the sequence, barely the last line of each strophe has a rhyme (-ia from beginning to end) while the rest of it shows practically no rhyme at all. Interesting, too, is the case of another sequence, dedicated to the dead, De profundis exclamantes, which the editors of the Analecta include in the group of the 'regular' ones and which is preserved in French manuscripts not earlier than the thirteenth century:23 here there is, as in Abelard, a considerable number of monosyllabic rhymes—which means that the philosopher's choice of 'half rhyme' was not so extravagant or even retrograde as it may appear to many of us accustomed to read authors of later generations, such as Adam of St Victor or Peter of Blois. The relative looseness in Abelard's rhyming is amply compensated by an unusual frequency, which affects not only each line but even the shortest hemistich: in the first couple of strophes in our planctus, for instance, each verse is nine syllables long, but is articulated in three sub-verses, each three syllables long, with their own rhymes:

century has yet to be determined, and until that is done, no very precise idea of development can be gained.' 20 AH 54, p. 188, n. 120. Cf. Crocker, 'Medieval Chant', pp. 288-89: 'a very popular text associated with the rapidly growing cult of the Cross: the text seems to date from the later eleventh century.' But according to N. Weisbein, 'Le Laudes crucis attollamus de Maitre Hugues d'Orleans dit le Primat', Revue du mqyen age latin 3 (194-7), 3-26, the poem was composed by a Hugh, scolasticus of Orleans c. 1111-13, whom he tries to identify with Hugo Primas. 21 AH 54, pp. 95-96, n. 66: sequence for St Nicholas. Cf. L. Kruckenberg, 'Sequenz', Musik in Geschichte, Sachteil, VIII (Kassel-Stuttgart 1998), col. 1276: 'um die Mitte des 11. Jahrhunderts.' 22 Cf. Congaudentes 11. 13-15 and 19-21: «Felix confessor | cuius fuit dignitatis | uox de celo nuntia [. . .] Erat in eius ammo pietas eximia | et oppressis impendebat | multa beneficia». 23 AH 54, pp. 275-76, n. 179.

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Ad festas ex more ex more et planctus

choreas uenite sint ode ut cantus

celibes uirgines; flebiles celebres.

After this strophe (or rather half-strophe) and its match in the pair, there follows a second couple of longer and metrically more complex unities, which concludes the 'prologue' by stating the terms of the drama to be acted in the next textual section. Section II is structurally an entity quite apart, something unique in the whole series of these planctus: here the double cursus affects a succession of versiculi of various length and shape together with the relative melodies.24 I now reproduce the text of Section II according to Meyer's edition, apart from minor differences in orthography and in the arrangement of lines and strophes.25 The text is to be read 'vertically' by separate columns, first from Victor hie de prelio until sit hoc glorie, and then from Vt sexu sic animo until nulla nouit macula. E E E E

Victor hie de prelio dum redit cum populo, prior hec pre gaudio occurrit cum tympano.

E Vt sexu sic animo E uir esto nunc, obsecro;

F Quam uidens et gemens pater anxius F nee mee nee tue obstes glorie, F dat plausum in planctum uoti conscius, F si tue preferre me uis anime F triumphum in luctum uertit populus. F exemplo- que prauo cunctos ledere. E E G E G E

'Decepisti, filia, me,' dux ait, 'unica, et decepta grauius nostra lues gaudia, quamque dedit Dominus perdet te uictoria.'

E E G E G E

Sinat te dilectio preferat hanc Domino unaque tu Dominum ofTendens cum populo amittas et populum displicendo Domino.

G E G E

Ilia refert: 'Vtinam meam innocentiam tante rei uictimam aptet sibi placidam!

E E G E

Non est hie crudelitas sed pro Deo pietas, qui, ni uellet hostiam, non daret uictoriam.

24 As to the music, a field in which my incompetence is absolute, I must rely upon the visual impression of the notation given by Meyer over each syllable of the text, and upon the sigla (capital letters) adopted by Vecchi to classify each line in musical respect. This at least enabled me to appreciate correspondences and parallels inside the text. What the codex unicus preserving the planctus (Vatican Library, Reginensis lat. 288) offers is just neumata without staves. 25 Moreover, I have discarded Meyer's interlinear transcription of neumata, certainly of much use but difficult to reproduce, giving instead the sigla (E, F, G etc., at the

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OF ABELARD'S PLANCTUS E E G E

333

Soluens ergo debitum placa, pater, Dominum, ne forte, cum placitum erit, non sit licitum.

H Immolare filium uolens Abraham H Quod ferre non rrepidat uirgo tenera, H non hanc apud Dominum habet gratiam, H inferre sustineat uiri dextera, H ut ab ipso puerum uellet hostiam. H sponsio quern obligat uoti propria. E Puerum qui respuit E si puellam suscipit, F quod decus sit sexus mei percipe, F uteri qui tui fructus inspice, F quid mini quid tibi sit hoc glorie.

E Sed duorum mensium E indulgebis spatium, Fquo ualles et colles cum sodalibus Fperagrans et plorans uacem planctibus, F quod sic me semine priuet Dominus. E E G E G E

Sitque legis sanctio mea maledictio, nisi sit remedio munde carnis hostia, quam nulla pollutio nulla nouit macula.'

At least six different kinds of strophe26 are juxtaposed in the first half of the section, to be matched exactly, both in versification and melody, and in the same order, in the second half. One may, indeed, regard the complex of Section II as one pair of huge strophes or semi-strophes of the kind that can be noticed in some choruses of Greek tragedy. The close unity of the whole is stressed by the distribution of parts in the dialogue here represented: after Jephtha's words, his daughter's speech begins in the middle of the first half and goes on to occupy the entire second half of the section. The punctilious observance of the parallelisms between the two halves seems to underline the few exceptions: the first strophe in the first half is a quatrain, whereas the opening one in the second half is just a couplet (but the melody is identical, confirming the correspondence between them); in the centre of the series an isolated strophe of the first half (Ilia refert. . .) is matched in the second by two

opening of each line) furnished by Vecchi in his edition, each of which indicates the melody of one verse. 2h Saying 'six' I refer to the textual arrangement adopted by Meyer, pp. 348-49 (other editors show different solutions) excluding for the moment two strophes where the parallelism in the preserved text fails.

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which are metrically equivalent (Non est hie. . . and Soluens ergo . . .; here the melody, though it is the same in the single elements, shows some difference in their combination); the final strophe of the second half (sitque legis sanctio . . .) does not match anything in the first. One may ask whether these irregularities are conscious variations by the author or whether they are to be ascribed to incidents in the textual transmission.27 Let it be first pointed out that the structural unity of this exceptional 'arch-strophe', comprising dozens of lines, is strengthened by the melody, here limited to four elements variously combined, EFGH, the first three of which traverse the whole section from beginning to end. The musical parallelism in the two halves of the section does not coincide with that of the rhymes but is observed with the same strictness; and it is all the more surprising to notice in one case— that already mentioned of Ilia refert and its counterparts—that the pattern GEGE of the first half is not repeated in the second, where EEGE is to be found twice in its stead. Thus two independent phenomena—a lack of four verses in the first half and a faulty responsio in the melody—happen to affect the same passage, indicating the probability of some corruption. That the neumatic notations in this manuscript are often corrupt has been proved by Wilhelm Meyer,28 and if some confusion has occurred within single verses, a similar effect may well have been produced in the melody of neighbouring strophes. Here I would presume that the pattern GEGE was caused by the mechanical repetition of the four last elements of the preceding strophe (Decepisti, filia. . .) and that the genuine pattern is that of the corresponding strophe of the second half (EEGE), identical in the following strophe. If this is not far-fetched, one has to correct the neumata of the first line, Ilia refert utinam, restoring the element E in the place of G; the rest need not be changed.29 As to the textual gap, this has been postulated between the verses aptet sibi 27 The opinion of Wolfram von den Steinen ('Die Planctus Abaelards', p. 122), is worth quoting: 'Der vorliegende Text konnte kleine Liicken haben, im ganzen ist er gut.' 28 See various footnotes in his edition of our planctus: Meyer, 'Abaelardi planctus (III.)', pp. 347-352. 29 Here I follow Vecchi's representation of the patterns, as I said; yet from the notation of Meyer (op. cit, p. 348) it would appear that the melodic element pertaining to the relevant line is in fact E! If this were the case, there would be EEGE in both the columns and the corruption should not be imputed to the copyist, but to Vecchi himself.

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pladtam and Immolare filium . . .;30 but it has passed unnoticed that the rhyme pattern of the quatrain Ilia refert, with one and the same wordending four times repeated, corresponds not to the strophe Non est hie crudelitas (rhyme pattern: aabb] but to the following one, Soluens ergo debitum (rhyme pattern: aaad). The lacuna therefore should be placed after Jephtha's words, immediately before Ilia refert, and that would cause some difficulty in the interpretation of the daughter's opening sentence: Vtinam \ meam innocentiam \ tante rei uictimam \ aptet sibi pladtam!^1 Who is the subject of aptet? Obviously Dominus, which may be easily understood if these words follow immediately the conclusion of Jephtha's brief speech: quamque dedit Dominus \ perdet te uictoria. But what if we distance the two sentences supposing a textual gap between them? For a possible solution to this impasse, let us consider the biblical passage here paraphrased by Abelard (Judges 11, 35), where Jephtha's words to his daughter are: Heu me, filia mea, decepisti me et ipsa decepta es; aperui enim os meum ad Dominum et aliud facere non potero. The first part of this sentence is the direct source of the first four lines Jephtha pronounces in our planctus: Decepisti, filia, me [. . .] et decepta grauius \ nostra lues gaudia, whereas the second part is not paraphrased here. True, Abelard's poem is far from being a scholastic amplificatio of its source; the philosopher felt free to pick up whatever moments of the biblical episode he thought better suited for his purposes, and to reshape its narrative structure to fit his 'drama', as Peter Dronke has brilliantly demonstrated.32 Still, a few words of explanation by the man to his daughter and victim would not be out of place here, for the expressions of despair opening Jephtha's speech are incomprehensible in themselves;33 and a strophe covering the content of the aforesaid later part of the biblical

30

Dreves, op. cit., p. 226; von den Steinen, 'Die Planctus Abaelards', p. 143. I incline to accept, because of the presence of sibi, K. Ruck's emendation pladtam (mentioned by Meyer, op. cit., p. 348, who refers to Bairische Gymnasialbldtter (1886), 300), although I can appreciate the fascination of the reading placidam, meaning that this heroic girl had some doubts over her self-control at the moment of the sacrifice, nearly anticipating the unforgettable scene magisterially commented by Dronke, The Lament, p. 382: 'she who had endured this ritual robing of the bride-victim in silence suddenly flings away the remaining ornaments and cries out. . .' 32 Dronke, The Lament, pp. 379-80. 33 Incomprehensible, I mean, not for the reader or the spectator of Abelard's times, who perfectly knew in advance the drama's plot, but from the subjective point of view of Jephtha's daughter as a dramatis persona. 31

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sentence was needed to this end. If that is what happened, such a quatrain would have had to include the mention of God (aperui os meum ad Dominum, said the Bible), whom the daughter implies as subject of the first sentence of her speech.34 The other probable lacuna (two lines missing in the strophe Vt sexu sic animo . . ., where the parallelism with the opening of the whole section, Victor hie de prelio . . ., seems stressed by the identical rhyme -0) should be discussed together with the last strophe of the whole section, six verses without any counterpart in the first half of it (Sitque legis sanctio . . .). It is tempting to treat the latter as an isolated strophe, lacking any responsio, just to close the scene, as may happen in archaic sequences.35 Indeed, the following section opens with what most of the editors consider a strophe of this kind, meant to introduce a new scene.36 Yet apart from the fact that it may be as well articulated in three sub-strophes, as is normal in Abelard's planctus,37 this opening strophe of the new section has a melody of its own,38 whereas the final strophe now under discussion is musically a repetition of some previous patterns inside the section (EEGEGE) and, as such, cannot be distinguished from the rest. I therefore share the opinion of most of the editors (Meyer, Vecchi, von den Steinen) who place Sitque legis sanctio and the following five lines as the final part of the second half of the section.39 If this is so, it cannot be accidental

34 I cannot recommend an alternative hypothesis which I for a moment entertained as possible, and which I mention here just in order to confute it in advance, because it might well attract somebody else. It may be noticed that, while four lines apparently disappeared in this place and two others at the beginning of the second half of the section (before or after the couplet Vt sexu sic animo \ uir esto nunc obsecro), in the end of it there are six lines in excess (Sitque legis sanctio . . .; see later on). As all these lines, whether lacking or exceeding, are exchangeable because all of the same measure (proparoxyton heptasyllables), the possibility of some transposition occurred as obvious. Yet the only practicable solution seems to be to reduce the six final verses to four (in fact the last two, quam nulla pollutio nulla nouit macula, may appear an unnecessary explanation of the preceding adjective munde) and to transfer them to fill the above mentioned gap between perdet te uictoria and Ilia refert. And, for the sake of rhymes, it would be necessary to emend sit remedio into (for example) det remedia. That was too much even for a conjecture addict like me. 35 So in Dreves, op. cit, p. 227. 36 His gestis rediit \ ad patrem unica; \ secreti thalami subintrans abdita, \ lugubris habitus | deponit tegmina. 37 Such is the partition adopted by Dreves, op. cit., p. 227. 38 ILILIL, according to Vecchi's sigla (op. cit., p. 56). 39 Cf. Meyer, 'Abaelardi planctus I II IV V VF, p. 358: 'die 2. Strophenfolge um 2 Strophen erweitert ist.'

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that the ensuing textual gap at the end of the first half (after the line quid mihi quid tibi sit hoc glorie] is adjoined by a strophe (Vt sexu sic animo \ uir esto nunc, obsecro] in which a lacuna is likewise probable. Indeed there seems to be one and the same lacuna involving eight lines,40 six at the end of the first half and two at the beginning of the second. This hypothesis has the advantage to be the more economical one, because it avoids the presumption of a third textual omission: in sum, the gaps must be two, one after perdet te uictoria and one after sit hoc glorie. Other textual problems in Section II will be dealt with, to the reader's relief, more cursorily. The penultimate line preserved in the first half, uteri qui tui fructus inspice (= inspice qui fructus [sit] uteri tui), a text perfectly understandable in itself, has been altered by Dreves into uterique tui, which has the advantage of reducing three indirect questions to two, one for each governing verb (percipe quod decus sit sexus mei uterique tui fructus, inspice quid mihi. . .), but has the disadvantage of creating a rejet or strict syntactical link, between inspice and the following line, which is rare and unusual in these texts. Better to maintain the paradosis, implying an additional indirect question governed by inspice. In the second half of the section a serious problem affects the third strophe (Sinat te dilectio . . .), where already Meyer had considered the probability of emending into Si nate (— natae] dilectio and the participle ojfendens into the future ojfendes.^ This proposal has been accepted by Dreves and von den Steinen, but, while the latter introduced no novelty of his own, the former noticed the asymmetry thus created between ojfendes and the subsequent amittas, and altered it to amities. Now, if to suppose two corruptions independent of one another in the same passage has been branded as unmethodical,42 it will be still less methodical to suppose three. On the other hand I cannot imagine how Meyer and Vecchi could construe Sinat te dilectio preferat

40

This is perfectly possible: one has to bear in mind that in medieval manuscripts containing this kind of rhythmical poetry the text was not arranged by strophes and verses as we find it in modern editions, but as simple prose, although accompanied by the musical notation. 41 See his apparatus on p. 349. 42 G. Pasquali, Storia della tradizione e critica del testo (Florence second edition, 1952), p. 432 n. 2. The object of this remark was A. E. Housman, who for his part mocked any wissenschqftliche Methode. But Meyer could not, and that is why he did not dare to print his conjecture in the text.

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hanc Domino: though sino may sometimes govern a subjunctive clause, who on earth can be the subject of preferat? Gianna Gardenal was forced to translate 'se questo amore ti permette di preferirmi al Signore',43 which implies preferas me Domino. And, indeed, hanc too is out of place here: Jephtha's daughter has so far spoken of herself in the first person. Meyer's stroke of genius would have solved all the problems with a minimum change (the suppression of one t] if only it had occurred to him that si. . . preferat and amittas could be connected with the previous strophe and co-ordinated with si tue prefene me uis anime.^ In other words, I propose to adopt si nate without any other alteration of the paradosis, but with a different punctuation: nee mee nee tue obstes glorie, \ si tue prefene me uis anime \ exemploque prauo cunctos ledere, \ si nate dilectio \ preferat hanc Domino., \ unaque tu Dominum I offendens cum populo \ amittas et populum \ displicendo Domino. In the clause si nate dilectio preferat hanc Domino the protagonist doubles herself, contemplating the objective situation and mentioning herself inside it in the third person. Thus hanc is perfectly appropriate as referring to nate: 'if your affection towards your daughter prefers her to our Lord'.45 Finally, let us consider one passage in another piece of the same collection, the Planctus Israel super Sanson,46 whose discussion implies some more general questions about the character and destination of the whole series. After the final scene, recreating the narration of Judges 16, 22~31, Abelard, by way of conclusion, introduces an invective involving, as was to be expected, a cluster of misogynistic commonplaces in the purest line of the ascetic tradition. At one point Samson's destiny is compared to Adam's, David's and Solomon's:47

43

G. Gardenal, Tietro Abelardo e i due Planctus: Sansone e Dalila e la figlia di Jefte' in Fortezza, tragedia e inganno: la donna aWepoca dei Giudici. Atti del Seminario invernale (Verona, 28-31 gennaio 1993) (Settimello 1994), pp. 110-131. 44 The slight variation between si uis (indicative) and si preferat (subjunctive) is perfectly admissible in conditional clauses. 45 Some difficulty may perhaps arise in interpreting the somewhat elliptic connection between the clauses nee mee nee tue obstes glorie and si tue prefene me uis anime: 'Do not impair your fame and mine, (which will ensue) if you prefer me to your soul'; or, 'Do not impair . . . preferring me . . .'. 46 Edd. Meyer, 'Abaelardi Planctus I II IV V VF, p. 370; Dreves, op. cit., p. 229; Vecchi, op. cit., p. 60; Dronke, Poetic Individuality, pp. 121-23. 47 I reproduce here, just to save some space, Meyer's arrangement of lines.

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O semper fortium ruinam rnaxirnam et in exitium creatam feminam! Hec patrem omnium deiecit protinus et mortis poculum propinat omnibus. Dauid sanctior, Salomone prudentior quis putetur? At quis impius magis per hanc uel fatuus repperitur? Quis ex fortibus non ut Sanson fortissimus eneruatur? Such is the text printed, by general consent, from Meyer onwards; and Peter Dronke, though having no doubt about its genuineness, refused to take it at face value: 'It appears to be serious, and yet the moment one looks at it theologically—woman was "created for the purpose of destruction"—it is clearly outrageous.'48 Some twelfthcentury monastic theologian would perhaps have answered this objection by alleging that Abelard's poetic expression ought not to be taken too strictly, that it meant that woman was created also to probe by her temptations man's capacity to resist, that after all in exitium did not inevitably express the purpose but rather the consequence of woman's creation, and so on. Nor would another statement, a few lines later in this planctus, saying that since the creation femina uirorum tela maxima fabricauit—which prompted Dronke's comment:49 'to say that every woman since Eve has spent her time fabricating the worst weapons to attack men50 can only be a joke'—have much impressed the readers of that period, who possibly had noticed that the phrase did not exactly assert that all women in history behaved in that way. Not even semper, in the first line transcribed above, may be taken otherwise than as a rhetorical hyperbole. And, more importantly, the most excessive statement, in the last line of our passage, implying that every strong man in history was, like Samson, weakened or unmanned by some woman (the rhetorical question: Quis ex fortibus non [. . .] eneruatur? may well be answered: many were not), is not to be found in the manuscript, but is the result of an unhappy 'emendation' introduced by Meyer and accepted by all the other editors. The copyist of the Vatican—and in my opinion the author himself—wrote instead: Quis ex fortibus sicut Sanson fortissimus eneruatur? 'Which of the strong was weakened as much as strongest Samson?'

48

Dronke, Poetic Individuality, p. 139. Ibid., p. 140. M There is, in fact, no other way to construe the genitive uirorum, which must have an 'objective' sense. 49

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In other words: nobody lost so much of his strength as Samson did. Which exactly matches, though in a more brachylogical form, the content of the previous lines: 'Nobody was saintlier than David nor wiser than Solomon, and yet51 nobody turned out more impious (than David) or sillier (than Solomon) because of a woman'. I conclude that Dronke's hypothesis, according to which Abelard intentionally exaggerated some trite remarks about woman's innate faults in order to bring about a sort of reductio ad absurdum of such platitudes,52 is far from being proved. If there were parody and satire in this planctus, they could hardly have been appreciated by anybody. True, Heloise certainly understood, if those hidden intentions were really there; but these are secrets between them which nobody else, let alone readers of the 20th or 21th century, will be able to share. So far for the private side of the interpretation of Planctus Israel super Sanson; much more effective are, I think, Dronke's arguments pertaining to the public side or, as he puts it, to the 'objective' implications of Abelard's comments on Samson's story. The sympathetic description of the hero's humiliations and sufferings53 together with many general remarks supplementing them are meant to distance the new, Christian perspective (the point of view of Ecclesia, in Dronke's words)54 from the picture of sorrow and despair the reader has to face and the hopeless conclusions to be taken from it:55 'An expression such as mortis poculum propinat omnibus56 can be taken in two ways: in a flippant, misogynistic sense [. . .] or in a theological sense: all mankind must die because of a woman's primordial guilt. But this is precisely what Ecclesia knows is no longer true: the new Samson57 has delivered his people'. One can perhaps go even further, and see in all six planctus as many panels composing a 'historical'08 image of the pre-Christian world in its typical, gloomy atmosphere. Thence emerge figures of unfor51

Here Meyer's correction of aut into at is impeccable. Dronke, Poetic Individuality, pp. 139-40. 53 Ibid., p. 132: 'No one before Abelard attempted a compassionate penetration of the character of Samson the man, both despairing and striving to atone.' 54 Ibid., pp. 141-42. 55 Ibid., p. 142. 56 Referring to the woman; see the fourth line in the passage cited above. 57 That is Jesus Christ, of whom Samson was taken as a figura. 38 I use this term in the sense illustrated by M.-D. Chenu, 'Conscience de 1'histoire et theologie au XIF siecle' (first 1954), in Id., La theologie au XIf siecle (Paris 1957), pp. 62-89. 52

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gettable, mournful humanity, whose personal experiences bring about implicit or explicit accusations against other people or the whole of contemporary society. Let us listen to Dina weeping for her violator Sichem, killed for revenge by her brothers:59 Coactus me rapere mea raptus specie, quouis expers uenie non fuisses iudice,

and forget for a moment that we are living in 2000, when, luckily, no judge in any civilized country would forgive the rapist Sichem's offence. Dina goes on: Amoris impulsio, culpe satisfactio quouis sunt iudicio culpe diminutio.

Here, as in several other passages, expressions of rebellion against persons or laws or customs, or even simply against fate, concur to depict an epoch of hardship and ruthlessness. Jacob's daughter, though using a juridical jargon (the now ill-famed matrimonio riparatorety, complains about the lack of human pity typical of the mentality of that milieu. What Abelard apparently wants to convey to his public is the idea of a world where the Holy Spirit did not yet circulate: his beloved Pardclitus, to whose name he had dedicated the oratorium where he spent the heroic years of his career,60 and whom he evokes in some of his most remarkable hymns written for the nuns living there (in particular, in the hymns for Whit Sunday): Diuinum quippe spiritum amorem eius dicimus, quo reis hunc propitium, quo mitem esse nouimus.61

More than once, in this group of hymns, he insists on contrasting sharply the Old Law with the New Law, and the juxtaposition is conceived in terms of cold-warm, ruthlessness-pity, rigour-indulgence: 59 Planctus Dine filie lacob (cf. Genesis 34): cf. Meyer, 'Abaelard: Planctus (III.)', pp. 366-67; Dreves, op. cit., pp. 223-24; Vecchi, op. cit, pp. 42-43. 60 For his detailed defence of the decision to name the place thus, see Abelard: Historia calamitatum, ed. J. Monfrin (Paris 1962), pp. 94-96. 61 Dreves, op. cit., p. 185.

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Lex uetus tamquam frigida seruos metu coercuit; in Christo mater gratia filios Deo genuit.62

And again: Terroris ac caliginis illic plena sunt omnia; curat hie ex contrariis Paraclitus contraria.63

One is indeed tempted to fancy that the poet might have planned to compose six further planctus, recreating episodes of the New Testament, to show the opposite side of the picture. Such a new cycle, which together with the other could permit monthly performances in the Paraclete, would have repeated the traditional pattern of this genre, wherein the evocation of sorrow gave eventually place to Christian meditations in a less pessimistic perspective. But all this is mere speculation.

62 63

Ibid., p. 186. Ibid., p. 187.

UNA SCHEDA PER ILDEGARDE DI BINGEN Claudio Leonard!

Ho cercato1 di leggere 1'epistolario di Anselmo di Canterbury, anni fa, e vi ho trovato, nella grande ricchezza di tematiche spiritual! e storiche, anche una componente profetica, che 1'uso dei termini consilium e consulere mette particolarmente in evidenza.2 Un atteggiamento profetico di Anselmo si concreta quando egli vuole consigliare non "un comportamento personale", ma vuole "giudicare se un'azione pubblica . . . sia conveniente o meno".3 Avevo potuto osservare che nei luoghi che possono dirsi profetici Anselmo appare "fuori della tradizione propriamente monastica!,4 appunto perche affronta convenienze politiche giudicandole con un metro, il consilium, che egli attribuisce a Dio stesso, che egli in ogni caso oggettiva in un giudizio. II metro infatti per valutare in senso stretto una tradizione profetica, ritenevo allora, come ora, che fosse individuabile non "nell'affermazione di principi spirituali, ma nel chiedere a se e agli altri un comportamento storico nella concretezza delle vicende storiche. Cosi Anselmo . . . difendera 1'autonomia della Chiesa nel senso che difende la liberta di organizzazione e di possesso del clero",0 e la difendera soprattutto contro il potere politico cristiano del regno inglese. Per valutare se nella complessa tematica di Ildegarde di Bingen sia a sua volta presente una dimensione profetica, occorre evidentemente tenere presente tutta la sua opera, ma ho creduto di poter cominciare dall'epistolario come da quel testo che mette di necessita 1 Per salutare Peter Dronke in questa lieta occasione ho cercato temerariamente di toccare un tema a lui caro e di cui e uno dei maggiori conoscitori, un tema che riguarda Ildegarde di Bingen. Peter Dronke conosce il mio interesse alia storia della profezia e vorra scusarmi se sono riuscito ad esaminare sinora, dell'epistolario di Ildegarde, solo la I classe. 2 Cfr. C. Leonardi, La profezia nell'epistolario di s. Anselmo ("tota domus Christi regitur consilio", in Les mutations socio-culturelles au toumant des XI'—XII' siecles (Paris 1984) (Etudes anselmiennes, IVe session), pp. 383-401. 3 Ivi, p. 391. 4 Ivi, p. 391. 5 Ivi, p. 394.

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Ildegarde a confronto con persone storiche e con i loro problemi. Vorrei presentare qui una scheda sulla prima classe in cui 1'epistolario e stato diviso nella recente edizione di Lieven Van Acker,6 con la corrispondenza "mit Papsten, Erzbischofen, Bischofen und den hochsten kirchlichen Wiirdentragern".7 Dal tempo di Anselmo, che opera quasi del tutto entro il secolo XI, sono passati non pochi decenni (Ildegarde muore nel 1179). II grave contrasto tra regnum e sacerdotium si e chiuso trovando un accordo a Worms nel 1122. La soluzione al rapporto tra i due poteri e la nuova concezione della Chiesa, imposte vittoriosamente, nonostante le sconfitte, da Gregorio VII, mostrano dopo un secolo dei punti di rottura. Proprio nel 1170 1'assassinio da parte dei sicari di re Enrico II, nella cattedrale di Canterbury, del primate Tommaso Becket, e la conferma che le due entita universali sono diverse e possono combattersi sino al delitto. Nell'epistolario di Ildegarde la classe I non sara certo quella che potra fornire i dati di maggiore significato a proposito delle sue qualita profetiche, contenendo circa settanta lettere scambiate con alcuni papi e cardinali, e numerosi vescovi, e—la numero I—con Bernardo di Clairvaux. In linea generale e noto come Ildegarde parli con assoluta sicurezza su cio che aflferma e come fondi questa sicurezza suH'autorita stessa di Dio. Molte di queste lettere sono o sembrano delle risposte, Ildegarde risponde a chi a lei si rivolge (e parecchie delle lettere di richiesta fanno parte delPepistolario). Per questo nell'apertura della lettera, piu che la "salutatio" tradizionale, Ildegarde pone una dichiarazione d'autorita: non risponde lei, risponde Dio stesso; lei vede e ode, e riferisce all'interlocutore cio che Dio le fa vedere ed ascoltare: "in mystico spiramine vere visionis",8 "ille qui est dicit",9 "vivens lumen hec verba mini ad te dicit",10 "hec verba in vero lumine vidi et audivi",11 "in vera visione mysteriorum Dei scribo, videndo et audiendo et sciendo in uno modo",12 "serena lux dicit"13

6 Hildegardis Bingensis Epistolarium, Pars prima, I-XC, a. c. di L. Van Acker, (Turnhout 1991) (CCCM 91). 7 Ivi, p. LXIV. 8 Ivi, p. 49 (ep. XVI R). 9 Ivi, p. 55 (ep. XIX). 10 Ivi, p. 57 (ep. XX R). 11 Ivi, p. 58 (ep. XXI). 12 Ivi, p. 101 (ep. XXXIX R). 13 Ivi, p. 108 (ep. XLII).

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ed altre formule simili. Almeno una volta, nella lettera "ad praelatos Moguntinos" (ep. XXIII), si trova un cenno alia costrizione psicologica in cui Ildegarde si trova, non potendo evitare di manifestare cio che Dio le dice: "In visione que anime mee, antequam nata procederem, a Deo opifice infixa est, coacta sum ad scribendum ista".14 In qualche caso I'autorita di Ildegarde e il suo fondamento divino sono riconosciuti dall'interlocutore. Cosi Arnoldo "praepositus Sancti Andreae" le scrive: "paratus facere quicquid mihi sive revelatione divina sive consilii tui sapientia preceperis";15 e il vescovo di Liegi Enrico le dichiara: "veraciter Deum tecum esse novi".16 In questo orizzonte spirituale Ildegarde parla con i prelati della Chiesa, in un tempo che lei giudica per lo piu oscuro, a causa della corruzione ecclesiastica, perche i prelati, appunto, non sono tutti dediti alle cose di Dio, sono mondani,17 e quando non lo sono si dividono, anzi credono di poter dividere la loro vita dedicandosi sia a Dio sia al mondo.18 Ildegarde definisce per questo il suo tempo "tempus muliebre",19 un tempo debole, significato dalla debolezza tradizionalmente attribuita alia donna; debole non piu per 1'invadenza del potere politico, ma per il tradimento di quello ecclesiastico. E' attorno a questa denuncia che si formula in Ildegarde un atteggiamento profetico. Queste settanta lettere trattano spesso di questioni spirituali,20 talvolta illustrano temi teologici,21 in piu di un caso 1'argomento e la situazione ecclesiastica. Ildegarde usa un linguaggio diretto, usa poco la Bibbia (le citazioni esplicite ed implicite sono rare),22 ignora quasi completamente 1'uso deU'allegoria cosi cara alia tradizione monastica. In questo linguaggio diretto ella affronta i papi

14

Ivi, p. 61 (ep. XXIII). Ivi, pp. 80-81 (ep. XXIX). 16 Ivi, p. 95 (ep. XXXVII). Nell'ep. XLFV, Adalberto verscovo di Verdun accenna, sia pure indirettamente, ad un paragone di Ildegarde con Balaam e con s. Paolo (ivi, p. 112). Cfr. anche ep. XV, 11. 7-10; Everardo vescovo di Bamberga le scrive: "Spiritu Sancto imbuta es" (p. 82, ep. XXXI). 17 Cfr. anche ivi, p. 52 (ep. XVII). 18 Cfr. anche ivi, p. 71 (ep. XXV R). 19 Ivi, pp. 65-66 (ep. XXIII): "istud tempus tempus muliebre est, quia iustitia Dei debilis est"; cfr. anche p. 74 (ep. XXVI R): "Sapientia sonat, dicens: Nunc squalidum tempus muliebris forme est". 20 Gli spunti spirituali sono molteplici, tra cui anche alcuni cenni autobiografici (come alle epistole I, p. 4; XIV R, p. 32; XL R, pp. 103-105; XLV R, pp. 113-114—quest'ultima particolarmente significativa). 21 Si cfr. le epistole XXXI R (pp. 83-88) e XL R (pp. 103-105). 22 L'editore Van Acker non pare per altro segnalare le pur presenti citazioni implicite. Cfr. piu sotto. 15

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Eugenic III (1145-1153), Anastasio IV (1153-1154), Adriano IV (1154-1159) ed Alessandro III (1159-1181). II carattere profetico e evidente nella lettera ad Anastasio. Al papa Ildegarde si rivolge chiamandolo "o homo",23 e quest'uomo affronta con durissime parole: "quare non abscidis radicem mali? . . . filiam regis, scilicet iustitiam, . . . negligis. Tu enim permettis hanc filiam regis super terram prosterni",24 e poi: "Unde tu . . ., qui sedes in principali cathedra, Deum contemnis". Con la persona del papa Ildegarde pare voler coinvolgere 1'istituzione papale stessa: "Et tu, o Roma, velut in extremis iacens, conturbaberis ita, quod fortitudo pedum tuorum, super quos hactenus stetisti, languescet, quoniam filiam regis, videlicet iustitiam, non ardente amore, sed quasi in tepore dormitionis amas, ita quod earn a te expellis".25 La conseguente minaccia e esplicita: il papato potra diventare da cattolico pagano: "cave ergo, ne ad ritum paganorum te commiscere velis, ne cadas".26 Per tutto il Medioevo si e continuata la critica al papato, anche da parte esplicitamente cristiana. Ma questa di Ildegarde e diversa, nel senso che non assume toni moralistici, quanto piuttosto toni autoritativi. E' lei, sia pure a nome di Dio, nella visione della realta e delle persone che ritiene di avere da Dio, che si pone come chi sa come il papato deve essere esercitato. In Ildegarde sembra operare un carisma petrino, che le impone di richiamare il papa al suo ruolo. Gia ad Eugenic III aveva detto di guardarsi dalla "potestas convivantium prelatorum".27 Ma il tema sara sviluppato in termini espliciti e violenti proprio nelle lettere ai vescovi e ai prelati. AlParcivescovo di Brema Arvigo scrive che "in hoc tempore multi pastores sunt ceci et claudi et raptores pecunie mortis, suffocantes iustitiam Dei";28 a quello di Colonia, Filippo, osserva che "plurimi episcopi. . . cogitationes suas in thesauros suos ponunt".29 Ma poi affronta direttamente il suo interlocutore, come Enrico arcivescovo di Magonza: "o pastores, plangite et lugete in hoc tempore, quia nescitis quid facitis . . . et ideo maledicta et malitiosa ac minantia verba vestra

23 24 25 26 27

28 29

Cfr. ep. VIII, 11. 5. 25. 33. 52. 86. 92. Ivi, p. 19 (ep. VIII, 11. 8-9. 10-13). Ivi, p. 21 (ep. VIII, U. 58-62). Ivi, p. 21 (ep. VIII, 11. 67-68). Ivi, p. 9 (ep. Ill, 1. 14). Ivi, p. 27 (ep. XII, 11. 9-10). Ivi, p. 52 (ep. XVII, 11. 38-40).

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non sunt audienda".30 'Non sanno quello che fanno e la frase con cui Cristo chiede al Padre di perdonare i suoi uccisori (cfr. Luc. 23, 34), che Ildegarde volge in negative.31 Ella si sente mero strumento di Dio e certamente solo in Dio puo minacciare punizioni, terrore e flagelli, come a Guntero vescovo di Spira: "Hanc causam admonitionis Dei noli abscidere a te, ne Deus te percutiat per flagella sua".32 Una piu articolata argomentazione e nella celebre lettera "ad pastores ecclesiae" (XV R), in cui si immagina un universo di ordine, "omnia sunt constituta, ne deficiant",33 che viene rotto proprio dal tradimento dei prelati. Infatti "tuba Domini iustitia Dei est, quam magno studio in sanctitate ruminare deberetis, earn quoque in officiali lege", mentre "propter petulantiam proprie voluntatis vestre non facitis. Unde firmamento iustitie Dei luminaria in linguis vestris desunt, velut cum stelle non lucent".34 I prelati sono come la notte, awolti nella tenebra, produttori di tenebra, come un popolo senza scopo, un non-popolo (secondo il termine dei profeti d'Israele): "Vos enim nox spirans tenebras estis et quasi populus non laborans".35 Su questi prelati non puo che discendere la punizione divina: "potestas Dei colla vestra iniquitate erecta deprimet et ad nihilum deducet",36 e ancora: "vos autem . . . innumerabilia et infinita tormenta in sinum vestrum colligitis"37 e "super vos . . . ruina cadet",38 "corona de capite vestro cadet".39 In questi termini si e creata una condizione profetica. E ha per oggetto la struttura ecclesiastica cosi come si era creata nel secolo XI in seguito alia riforma di Gregorio VII. In questa prima classe di lettere il potere politico non compare mai; non e presente, come lo era per Anselmo, il problema della libertas della Chiesa. Ildegarde ha invece di fronte 1'incapacita della Chiesa, che ha finalmente guadagnato un suo autonomo ruolo storico, a gestire il potere, gli ecclesiastici che hanno responsabilita di governo non sanno esercitarlo a 30

31 32

33 34 35 36 37 38

39

Ivi, p. 54 (ep. XVIII R, 11. 8-10). Cfr. ivi, p. 38 e 41 (ep. XV R, 11. 128. 210). Ivi, p. 106 (ep. XLI R, 11. 9-10). Ivi, p. 35 (ep. XV R, 1. 24). Ivi, p. 36 (ep. XV R, 11. 55-57. 60-62). Ivi, p. 36 (ep. XV R, 11. 62-63). Ivi, p. 36 (ep. XV R, 11. 73-75). Ivi, p. 39 (ep. XV R, 11. 152-154). Ivi, p. 40 (ep. XV R, 11. 172-173). Ivi, p. 42 (ep. XV R, 1. 242).

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favore della fede perche contraddicono la giustizia. lustitia e il termine di Ildegarde come consilium e stato quello di Anselmo. Di fronte alia Chiesa che non riesce a proporre una vita veramente cristiana, ma tende solo a conservare un potere umano, non si puo piu accusare il potere politico di corromperla, la Chiesa si autocorrompe. Ildegarde denuncia questa autocorruzione, che ha un solo nome, 1'ingiustizia verso Dio che i prelati praticano, sono essi il non-popolo, poiche sono diventati il potere che dissolve la Chiesa. Gregorio Magno poteva pensare la profezia come legata al praedicator e ipotizzare che ogni vescovo potesse ricoprire questo ruolo. Con Ildegarde la profezia appare, per la prima volta forse con grande forza, in una donna. La sua parola appare investire il ruolo vescovile (e papale) e come sostituirsi ad esso, Ildegarde, pur "timida et paupercola",40 usa il tono e 1'autorita petrina: in cio consiste la sua profezia in questa prima classe del suo epistolario.

Ivi, p. 43 (ep. XV R, 1. 274).

DANTE'S AVERROISM John Marenbon

No single medieval writer combines the roles of philosopher and poet more clearly and fully than Dante.1 But scholars are far from agreed about what sort of philosophical views he favoured. In the light of modern scholarship, and especially the work of Peter Dronke's honoured teacher, Bruno Nardi,2 very few would now support the simplistic view, once widespread, that Dante took his philosophy and theology simply and directly from Aquinas. It is now generally recognized that, among the influences on Dante, was the thought of Albert the Great as well as Aquinas, and also that of Siger of Brabant and other so-called Latin Averroists, arts masters whose interest was not in revealed doctrine but in the world as understood by natural reason. Yet this recognition is generally a qualified one, especially where the influence of Siger and the arts masters is concerned. Most specialists—including Maria Corti, who is particularly celebrated for her work in this area, the great majority of anglophone scholars and, indeed, Nardi himself—regard Dante's fascination with purely philosophical wisdom as a phase in his intellectual development, from which he had turned by the time he wrote the Commedia? Peter Dronke has been one of the few critics to accept, with litde qualification, Dante's esteem for Siger and the philosophical movement

1 The following editions, all belonging to the Edizione Nationals delle opere di Dante Alighieri a cura della Societa Dantesca Italiana (EN) are used for the texts by Dante cited in this article:—Convivio, ed. F. Ageno (Florence 1995) (EN 3); Monarchia, ed. P. Ricci (Milan 1965) (EN 5); Commedia, ed. G. Petrocchi (Milan 1966-67) (EN 7). 2 On Nardi as Peter Dronke's teacher, see Dronke's Introduction to Etienne Gilson's Letters to Bruno Nardi, Florence, 1998 (SISMEL Carte e Carteggi 1). See below nn. 31, 33 and 52 for references to some of Nardi's most important books and articles on the area. 3 See M. Corti, Dante a un nuovo crocevia (Florence 1982) (Societa Dantesca Italiana, Quaderno 1), esp. pp. 77-101; Id., La felicita mentale (Turin 1983), pp. 72-155; on the anglophone scholars, see J. Scott, 'Dante and Philosophy', Annali d'italianistica 8 (1990), 258-77 (a critical account, since Scott is one of the few scholars to disagree with the trend); and B. Nardi, Dal 'Convivio' alia 'Commedia' (Set saggi danteschi) (Rome 1960) (Istituto storico italiano per il media evo, Studi storici, 35-39), Saggio II (pp. 37-150).

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he represents, even during his maturity.4 And, in his most recent book on Dante, he has argued strongly against the view that, in the course of writing the Convivio, Dante underwent an ideological crisis and ended by embracing a form of Thomism to which he then adhered.5 The present article will, therefore, be an appropriate tribute to Dronke in its theme—although it is piece so unlikely to win anyone's approval, that I hesitate to offer to him. My central argument is that, despite what all the commentators say, a passage in Dante's Monarchia about the possible intellect must be interpreted Averroistically. This position represents a particularly sharp challenge to those who see the mature Dante as turning away from the philosophical enthusiasms of his middle years because of the date of the Monarchia. Although earlier scholars, including Nardi, placed it firmly before the Commedia, it is now widely agreed that the reference in the Monarchia (I, 12 §6) to what Dante has 'already said in the Paradiso' is part of the genuine text and so the treatise must be dated to near the end of Dante's life, probably in the period 1316-19.6 Dante's attitude to Averroism in the Monarchia is, then, his final, considered view. I put my main argument and explain why I reject the views of the modern commentators in the second section of this article (The possible intellect in the 'Monarchia'). I also believe, as I explain in the final section (How could Dante accept the Avenoist theory of the Intellect?), that there is a quite easy answer to what have been taken as fatal objections to reading the passage in the Monarchia as I do. The other two sections are designed to provide background information: the first (Averroes and Averroism) for Dante specialists who are not fully at home in the details of medieval philosophy, the third (Dante and

4 See especially his 'Orizzonte che rischiari. Notes towards the Interpretation of Paradiso XIV, Romance Philology 29 (1975-76), 1-19 = Id., The Medieval Poet and his World (Rome 1984) (Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, Studi e Testi 164), pp. 407-30 and Dante and Medieval Latin Traditions (Cambridge 1986), pp. 96-102 and notes. 5 Dante's Second Love. The Originality and the Contexts of the Convivio (Exeter 1997) (The Society for Italian Studies, Occasional Papers 2), pp. 51-76. Dronke's arguments are directed especially against Corti. 6 See Dante. Monarchia, transl. and ed. P. Shaw (Cambridge 1995) (Cambridge Medieval Latin Classics 4), pp. xxxviii-xl and Dante's Monarchia, transl. with commentary R. Kay (Toronto 1998) (Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, Studies and Texts 131), p. 25), pp. xx-xxi.

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Averroism) for those interested in medeval philosophy who are not Dante specialists.

Averroes and Averroism 'Averroes' is the name given in Latin to the philosopher Ibn Rushd, who was born in Cordoba, then part of the Islamic world, in 1126; he died at Marrakesh in 1198: I shall call him 'Ibn Rushd' here when discussing him in himself, and 'Averroes' further on when talking about him and his influence on Latin writers. Ibn Rushd's philosophical work had two main aspects. First, Ibn Rushd was an Aristotelian commentator. He scrutinized almost all Aristotle's work, writing 'short commentaries' or epitomes, 'middle commentaries' which mix paraphrase and discussion, and 'great commentaries', which provide acute and detailed section by section, word by word analysis. By this detailed analysis, Ibn Rushd aimed to understand Aristotle's genuine arguments and avoid interpreting them from a Neoplatonic perspective, as many of his Arab predecessors had done. In one area—the nature of the intellect and its relation to individual humans—Ibn Rushd arrived at an interpretation very different from what any other commentator, ancient Greek or Arab, had suggested; I shall discuss below this interpretation, according to which what is called the 'possible intellect' is unique. Second, Ibn Rushd defended a particular view of the relationship between philosophy and revelation. By his time, there was already a three-hundred-year-old tradition in Islam offalsqfah, philosophy in the tradition of Plato and Aristotle which was quite distinct from kalam, scholastic Mohammedan theology. The relationship between falsqfah and revealed truth was conceived in a variety of ways by Arab thinkers: some saw it in terms of a harmony; others (such as the tenth-century philosopher, al-Farabf) tended to think of revelation as providing an easily graspable, popular version of a truth more fully apprehended by philosophical reason; others, most notably alGhazzali (1058-1111), argued that the philosophers' conclusions were ill-founded and incompatible with Islam. Ibn Rushd attacked alGhazzalf's criticisms of philosophy, countering his polemic, Tahajut al-falasifah (The Incoherence of the Philosophers), with his Tahdfut al-tahdfut (The Incoherence of 'The Incoherence'}. He followed and developed

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al-Farabr's approach, arguing in his Fasl al-maqdl (Decisive Treatise on the Agreement between Philosophy and Religion) that those who are able for it should engage in philosophical speculation, in order to fulfil what the Koran itself demands, but also insisting that such philosophizing be restricted to a small elite.7 Ibn Rushd also explains there how, on a proper understanding of the rules for interpreting the Koran, there will not be a conflict between revelation and philosophy, although often a Koranic text will not be understood by philosophers in its literal sense.8 From the early thirteenth century onwards, philosophers and theologians in the Latin West came to know, in translation, much of Ibn Rushd's work as a commentator. By contrast, his treatises were not translated until later (the Tahafut in 1328, but it was not well known until it was printed at the very end of the fifteenth century; the Fasl al-maqdl was not translated into Latin in the Middle Ages). For Latin thinkers, then, Averroes was an Aristotelian commentator. Indeed, he was the commentator par excellence, who could be referred to as 'Commentator' just as Aristotle was called simply 'Philosophus'. His detailed analyses were indispensable for anyone trying to make headway with Aristotle's terse and difficult texts. If 'Averroist' were a term used to describe anyone who relied on Averroes' commentaries and very often followed them in reading Aristotle, then almost every sophisticated Latin thinker of the later Middle Ages would be an Averroist. To give a modern comparison. Almost everyone today who writes about Dante's Monarchia uses Nardi's commentary on it, because of its learning, fullness and attention to detail. Yet many of these scholars do not accept the distinctive and controversial features of Nardi's interpretation of the Monarchia or of his general view of Dante and the Middle Ages. There is a more restricted and useful way to use the term 'Averroist'—one which is, moreover, widely accepted and corresponds to the medieval usage (most often in the mouths of the Averroists' adversaries).9 Averroists, in this sense, are those Latin thinkers who

7 There is now an excellent parallel text (Arabic-French) with a valuable, long introduction by A. de Libera: Averroes. Discours decisif, trsl. M. Geoffroy (Paris 1996). 8 There is a good, short account of Ibn Rushd by A. Ivry, with bibliography, in The Routledge History of Philosophy. III. Medieval Philosophy, pp. 49-64. See also the editions by De Libera cited in n. 7 above and n. 15 below. 9 Fernand van Steenberghen, a leading specialist on Siger of Brabant, has for a

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(a) accepted Averroes' view that there is only a single possible intellect; (b) concentrated their efforts on reaching and examining an accurate account of Aristotle's ideas—usually based on that presented by Averroes—even where these positions are incompatible with Christian teaching; and, usually (c) adopted some sort of strategy to explain why they, though Christians, did (a) and (b).

'Averroism' so understood stretches back to Siger of Brabant and Boethius of Dacia in the later thirteenth century. It was one of the main targets of Etienne Tempier, the Bishop of Paris, when in 1277 he condemned 219 philosophical and theological propositions. Tempier may have succeeded in putting an end to this particular school, but by no means to Averroism in the Latin West, which reappeared in Paris and northern Italy around 1300; it flourished in Padua and Bologna in the early fourteenth century, and later in Erfurt and Cracow. Among its outstanding earlier representatives were John of Jandun, Taddeo of Parma, Gentile of Cingoli and Angelo of Arezzo.10 Item (c) in this specification of Averroism calls for further comment. Some Averroists texts (for instance, Siger of Brabant's earliest commentary on De Anima III11) do simply exhibit characteristics (a) and (b), without making any further methodological statement. Arts masters were, after all, supposed to be lecturing on the Aristotelian set-texts and not concerning themselves professionally with revealed truths, which were the business of their superiors in the Theology Faculty. Even so, the general presumption, even in the Arts Faculty, was that by reading Aristotle masters were seeking, not just an exact understanding of an ancient text, but the truth (though not the truths

long time (cf. his Aristote en accident. Les origines de I'aristotelisme parisien (Louvain 1946), pp. 184-96, for an early statement of the view) carried on a polemic against this term, preferring a description such as 'radical Aristotelianism' (or 'heterodox Aristotelianism'). He is, of course, right to stress that the so-called Averroists wished to be Aristotelians, and that they were in many respects distant from Ibn Rushd's real thought; but the link with Averroes—Ibn Rushd as seen through Latin eyes—is essential to their approach. 10 On fourteenth-century and later Averroism, see L. Schmugge, Johannes von Jandun (1285/9~1328). Untersuchungm zur Biographie und Sozialtheorie dues Lateinischm Averroisten (Stuttgart 1966) (Pariser Historische Studien 5); Z. Kuksewicz, De Siger de Brabant a Jacques de Plaisance. La theorie de ttntellect chez, les averroistes latins des XIII' et XIV sucks (Warsaw 1968). 11 Ed. (along with De anima intellectiva and De aeternitate mundi] B. Bazan (Louvain 1972).

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knowable only to revelation). They were Aristotelian scientists, not literary critics with an antiquarian interest in Greek philosophy. For them to propose positions blatantly at odds with Christian doctrine— especially about areas where other interpretations of Aristotle were current which were far more acceptable from the religious point of view—required, at least, an excuse (Siger of Brabant's straight presentation of Averroistic doctrine in the commentary on De Anima III was promptly condemned). The excuse needed to be some type of limited relativism, which allowed autonomy to natural reasoning within its own sphere, whilst confirming the ultimate authority of Christian doctrine. Such relativisms are difficult to formulate, and some formulations—such as the one attacked by Aquinas in his De Unitate Intellectus—would merely have ensnared their propounders in a logical trap.12 But there were successful strategies, such as Boethius of Dacia's relativization of each of the Aristotelian sciences to its own first principles; and perhaps others too.13 Averroism, then, involved both certain first-order theses (such as the unicity of the possible intellect) and a more or less explicit second-order position about reason and revealed truth. Ibn Rushd's own thought had both these aspects. But whereas the Averroists' first-order theses derive directly from Ibn Rushd's commentaries, their second-order positions are not taken from his methodological discussions, which they did not know, but result from their own reflections on the particular problems raised by Ibn Rushd's firstorder theses within the doctrinal and institutional setting of the universities of Christian Europe.14 12 Cf. De Unitate Intellectus 5, §119 (Thomas d'Aquin. Contre Averroes, trsl. A. De Libera (Paris, second edition, 1997)). The Averroist says: 'Per rationem conclude de necessitate quod intellectus est unus numero, firmiter tamen teneo oppositum per fidem'. Aquinas points out that, one can conclude de necessitate that p, only if p is necessarily true. But the faith holds, in this case not-p. Not-/* is the opposite of what the Averroist holds to be necessarily true, and so not-p is impossible. The Averroist is therefore committed to the absurdity of holding that Christian faith requires one to accept the truth of an impossible proposition—a proposition which even God could not make true: see De Libera's Introduction to his edition, pp. 54-55. 13 See his De aeternitate mundi, ed. N. Green-Pedersen (Copenhagen 1966), Corpus Philosophorum Danicorum Medii Aevi VI, 2. For an analysis, see especially J. Pinborg, 'Zur Philosophic des Boethius de Dacia. Ein Uberblick.', Studia Medewistyczne 15 (1974), 165-85 (reprinted as no. 11 in J. Pinborg, Medieval Semantics. Selected Studies on Medieval Logic and Grammar, ed. S. Ebbesen (London 1984). In the final section of this essay, I shall suggest another possibly successful strategy. 14 For an excellent discussion of the differences between Ibn Rushd and Averroism, see De Libera's Introduction to Ibn Rushd's Discours decisif, pp. 56—75.

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It is not surprising that, among the first-order theses, the unicity of the possible intellect should have been considered characteristic of Averroism. Unlike other Aristotelian doctrines, such as the eternity of the world, which Christians could not accept, this theory was not presented by the obvious sense of Aristotle's text, but derived from an interpretation peculiar to Ibn Rushd. In what exactly did it consist and why did Ibn Rushd propose it? Aristotle's De anima helps to answer this question. For Aristotle, cognizing something involves assimilation to it. The model is provided by the example of touch. I cognize by sensible perception that the radiator is hot, by my sense-organ—in this case the skin of my hand—actually becoming hot. The sensible form of heat, which makes the radiator hot, also makes my sense of touch hot. Similarly, for Aristotle, in the case of the other senses, the senseorgans take on the characteristics they sense: when I see a blue book, for instance, the sensible form which makes the book blue is received by my sense of sight. Aristotle applies this model to intellectual cognition. Intellectual cognition concerns, not the sensible forms of things, but universal forms. When I grasp intellectually what-it-is-to-be-aman, then the form of man, that which makes a man into a man, informs my intellect. Just as matter, which is pure potency, becomes something in actuality through a form, my senses and the intellect are potentialities, waiting to be informed and made actual by what they cognize. Aristotle thus envisages my capacity for thinking as a potential—or, as it is usually called, 'possible' intellect (intellectus possibilis). But he did not consider that the process of intellectual cognition could be explained just by reference to the forms in individual things, and the potential intellect. There must be another intellect, an active one, which is able to take take the enmattered forms from individual things so as to inform the possible intellect. It might seem that, in this description, Aristotle is talking about individual human cognizers and must be saying that every person has both an active and a possible intellect. Some interpreters—including Aquinas—read the De anima in this way. But there was a long tradition, going back to antiquity, of taking Aristotle to mean that there is just one active intellect, identified either with God or with the lowest of a series of emanated celestial Intelligences, which serves all human beings. This view still left people with their own individual possible intellects, and so it presented no threat to Christian doctrines such as the immortality of the soul and its reward or punishment

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in the after-life. Ibn Rushd's innovation was to argue that, like the active intellect, the possible intellect too is one for all people.15 He did not take this step without good reason. Aristotle makes clear (De anima III, 4; 429a~b) that the intellect, unlike the senses, is not 'blended' with the body: people do not think using any corporeal organ (as they see with their eyes and hear with their ears): 'the faculty of sensation is dependent upon the body, thought is separable from it.' But, if the possible intellect is not a body or the faculty of a body, how can it be individuated?16 Ibn Rushd believes that the impossibility of answering this question satisfactorily, and also the difficulty of explaining how, if it were individuated, the possible intellect could receive universal forms, makes it necessary to suppose that the possible intellect is not 'numbered out to each individual human' but rather is unique. He immediately recognizes that this conclusion seems to bring its own grave difficulties: does it not imply that if I grasp something intellectually, then you must do so too?17 Ibn Rushd considers that he has an answer to this problem. On his reading of Aristotle, the process of intellectual thought requires that the possible intellect is put into act by receiving intelligible forms which the active intellect extracts from the images in the imagination. These images are merely potentially able to affect the possible intellect; the action of the active intellect makes them actually affect it. Ibn Rushd gives an analogy: the active intellect is like light, the possible intellect like a translucent surface and the images like the colour of the translucent surface: only through the light can the surface be said to receive the colour.18 Whereas the active and the possible intellect are each unique, the images are individual to each human being. 15 Ibn Rushd's main discussion of the possible intellect is in Commentum 5 of the Great Commentary on Book III of De anima. The Arabic original of Averroes' Great commentary has not survived: it is known to modern scholars through the translation by Michael Scotus which Dante and other medieval Latin thinkers used. References are to the edition by F. Crawford (Cambridge, Mass. 1953) (Corpus Commmtariorum Averrois in Aristotelem VI, 1). Recently Alain de Libera (Averroes. Uintelligmce et la pensee. Sur le De anima (Paris 1998, second edition)) has produced a (French) translation of Book III of the commentary, with very detailed commentary. De Libera uses his knowledge of the Arabic context to reconstruct where possible Ibn Rushd's flow of argument through the often inadequate Latin version. This edition is of great importance for anyone wishing to understand Ibn Rushd; I give page references to it, as well as to Crawford's Latin text. 16 Ed. cit, p. 402:432-40; De Libera, p. 71. 17 Ed. cit., p. 403:463-35; De Libera, p. 72. 18 Ed. cit, pp. 410:688-411:411:702; De Libera, pp. 79-80.

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The intelligible forms, which are taken from these imaginary images, are the forms to which the possible intellect is the matter. We can, therefore, each be said to engage in intellectual activity just as we engage in sense perception, but with the following difference. A sense perception is my sense perception because the matter which receives the sensible form—the sense organ—is mine. A thought is my thought because, although its matter is the unique possible intellect, its form is taken from my own individual, imaginary image.19 Ibn Rushd's theory is, then, neither unmotivated by Aristotle's text, nor obviously unreasonable. But it is clearly incompatible with Christianity, both because it leaves no room for the immortality of the individual soul, and also because, in working out its consequences, Ibn Rushd repeatedly calls on the principles of the eternity of the world and of the species man.

The possible intellect in the 'Monarchia'

Dante's aim in the Monarchia is to show that the Roman Emperor should be the supreme ruler of mankind and that he should not be subject to the Pope in temporal matters. His main argument for this conclusion is that mankind cannot reach its goal unless there is peace, and that peace will not be achieved except by universal monarchy. In order to give a basis to this reasoning, Dante has to show in what the goal of mankind consists—a task he accomplishes right at the start of his treatise (I, 3). It is this argument which, I argue, must be interpreted Averroistically. Here is how it runs. Dante first makes it clear (§2)20 that parts of wholes have different goals (the thumb has different goal from the hand, the hand a different one from the arm): similarly, there are different goals for individual humans, families, villages, cities, kingdoms and—what he is enquiring about—for the human race as a whole. To seek the goal of something, he says, is to look for the sort of activity (operatic) which is peculiar to it (§3). The peculiar activity of mankind will be one which cannot be performed by individual humans or any smaller associations of people, such as households, villages, cities, kingdoms,

19 20

Ed. cit., p. 4035:517-20; De Libera, p. 74. The section numbers refer to the sections of Book I, Chapter 3.

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and is not performed by any other species of things. It will be discovered by finding what is the 'highest potency' (ultimum de potentid) of humanity as a whole (§§4-5). This highest potency, Dante goes on to say, is to apprehend through the possible intellect, because members of lower species do not apprehend through the intellect at all, and although other sorts of being besides man are intellectual (Dante is thinking of the celestial intelligences), they are essentially intellectual, not intellectual in potency. Therefore, concludes Dante, 'the highest potency of humanity itself is the intellectual potency or strength' (§§6-7). Dante then goes on to explain the way in which apprehending through the possible intellect should be seen as the highest potency, and so the peculiar activity, not of individual humans, but of the whole of mankind. Only through a great many people (multitude), he claims (§8), can the whole of this potency (potentia hec]—that is, the intellectual potency—be made actual. For this reason, there are a great many humans (more, the context implies, than in any individual kingdom or smaller social grouping), for otherwise there would be a potency which never became actual, which would be impossible (according to the Principle of Plenitude which Dante, following Aristotle, accepts).21 After a reference to Averroes and a comment (§§9~10) about the way in which the intellectual potency he has been discussing extends to practical activity as well as speculation, Dante is able to draw the conclusion at the beginning of the next chapter (I, 4 §1): 'the peculiar work of the human race taken as a whole is to actualize always the whole power of the possible intellect. . ,'22 The most obvious and natural interpretation of this argument is to take the possible intellect as one thing. It is referred to in the singular both in the summarizing comment at I, 4 §1 and when Dante concludes I, 3 §7 by saying that the potentia sive virtus intellectiva is the highest potency of mankind. Dante's central point, indeed, seems to be that without the input of a great many individual humans the whole of this intellectual potency will not be actualized. There 21

According to the Principle of Plenitude, no genuine possibility remains for ever unrealized: modality, therefore, receives a statistical interpretation—if a temporally unqualified proposition is never true it is impossible, if it is always true it is necessary. See S. Knuuttila, Modalities in Medieval Philosophy (London 1993), esp. pp. 4-5. 22 Ed. cit., p. 143:1-3: '. . . proprium opus humani generis totaliter accepti est actuare semper totam potentiam intellectus possibilis . . .'

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appears, then, on Dante's picture of how things should happen, to be one possible intellect and many humans at work in order to actualize all of it always (rather as a computer-server might need to have many people accessing it at once if its full capacities are to be used). And the fact that Dante refers specifically to Averroes's commentary on the De anima (I, 3 §9: Et huic sententie concordat Averrois in comento super hiis que De anima,) where, notoriously, the theory of a unique possible intellect is proposed, gives extra backing to this reading. Yet readers of the Monarchia in any of the various fine editions and translations now available would by no means gain this impression. Indeed, in Prue Shaw's otherwise valuable translation, even the explicit reference to the possible intellect, in the singular, at the beginning of Chapter 4, disappears: '... the activity proper to mankind considered as a whole is constantly to actualize the full intellectual potential of humanity . . ,'23 Other translators are more literal here,24 but they hasten to make clear in their notes that there can be no question of Dante's using here the Averroistic notion of a unique possible intellect for all humans. Richard Kay, for example, states in his note to the passage that 'for Dante, there are as many possible intellects as there are human souls' and he contrasts this view with that of Averroes.25 He goes on, a little later in his notes on the passage, to express surprise that scholars have 'agonized so long over whether or not Dante was an "Averroist"' and concludes that Dante did not follow the Averroist view of there being a unique possible intellect, and did not regularly follow Averroes in his interpretations of Aristotle, though he did, like many medieval thinkers, borrow certain elements of his thought from Averroes.26 The generally accepted modern view is put with characteristic trenchancy, in a survey of Dante's philosophy, by Dominik Perler: 'Dante holds that every person has an individual possible intellect; but one can make full use 23

Shaw, ed. cit, p. 11. For instance, Kay (ed. cit., p. 25) translates 'to actualize the full power of the possible intellect; Ruedi Imbach and Christoph Fliieler (Monarchia. Studienausgabe (Stuttgart 1998), p. 71), 'das ganze Vermogen des moglichen Intellekts standig zu verwirklichen'; Gustavo Vinay (Monarchia, trsl. with commentary (Florence 1950), p. 29), 'attuare sempre e tutta la potenza deH'intelletto possibile'. 25 Ed. cit., p. 18. 2h Ibid., p. 21. Kay (like Imbach and Fliieler, ed. cit., p. 268) treats the contention by Dante's Dominican opponent, Guido Vernani, that Dante was here an Averroist as manifestly ridiculous. For Vinay's rejection of the Averroistic interpretation, see ed. cit., pp. 23-25. 24

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of one's possible intellect only if one is a member of a peaceful community.'27 Although these writers do not explain exactly how they consider that their reading can be reconciled with the words Dante wrote, they must be reading the references to the possible intellect and to the intellectual potency of mankind as being distributive rather than singular. If I were to say, 'Improving the mind is the aim of Cambridge undergraduates' (would that it were!), I would not be taken to imply that there is a single mind in common to all of the students. It would be thought that I was using 'the mind' distributively and I meant: 'The aim of each Cambridge undergraduate is to improve his or her mind.' According to such a reading, the statement at the beginning of Chapter 4 which sums up Dante's conclusion would mean: the aim of mankind is for each individual always to actualize the whole potency of his or her own possible intellect (or: the aim of mankind is for it always to be the case that every individual is actualizing the whole potency of his or her own possible intellect). At first blush, such an interpretation of Monarchia I, 3—4 appears possible, although it is strained. Its advocates would need to explain why Dante makes such a fuss about establishing a goal for mankind as a whole, and then proceeds (on their interpretation) to give a goal which is merely the sum of the goals of individual humans. Why did Dante not argue simply as follows—the goal of each human is to actuate his possible intellect fully; so the goal of mankind is for everyone always to be actuating their possible intellects fully, and this cannot happen except when there is peace? On scrutiny, however, the distributive interpretation of the passage meets an objection which shows that it is, not merely strained, but completely implausible. In the course of his argument (§8), Dante puts forward the claim that mankind's highest potency (i.e. the possible intellect) could not be actualized wholly and at once by any individual human or any community smaller than a great number (multitudo) of humans.28 If there is a unique possible intellect, this statement is very easy to understand. But how is it to be read if we

27

'Alighieri, Dante' in Routledge Encylopaedia of Philosophy, ed. E. Craig, I (London 1998), pp. 181-85 at p. 184. 28 Ed. cit, p. 142: 41-44: '. . . potentia ista per unum hominem seu per aliquam particularium communitatum superius distinctarum tota simul in actum reduci reduci non potest. . .'

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believe that Dante is talking about many individual possible intellects, one for each human being? The statement would seem then to have to mean that no individual possible intellect can be actualized wholly and at once unless a great number of possible intellects are so actualized. But this claim is completely incredible. Why should my ability to actualize wholly and at once my possible intellect depend on whether a great number of other people are doing so too?29 Perhaps, though, the case is less simple than the discussion would suggest so far. Whereas the recent commentators have usually been content to dismiss the Averroistic interpretation of this passage of the Monarchia with contempt rather than argument, there are two great scholars of an earlier generation, Etienne Gilson and Bruno Nardi, who have discussed the question of interpretation with care and learning. Neither of them thinks that the Averroistic interpretation is immediately or obviously wrong, but both end by rejecting it. Why do they do so? Gilson argues that, although Averroes' interpretation of the De Anima was Dante's starting point, Dante has transposed the idea by taking the human race—all humans at all times collectively—as the equivalent of the single possible intellect. 'What Averroes wants', he writes, 'to actualize the potential intellect entirely is a being; whereas, to reach the same end, what Dante looks to is a society—the universal society of all the individual possible intellects which constitute the human race.' Dante, he says, cannot have accepted Averroes' notion as it stood. If he had done, 'his own argument would have been pointless since, with or without a universal society, humanity would always be reaching its ultimate purpose in the permanent existence as a separate entity of the potential intellect.'30 Gilson's argument is unconvincing. Not only does it fail to explain why Dante writes, referring to 'the possible intellect' in the singular, 29

Someone might suggest as a weaker, but less implausible interpretation: there needs to exist a great many human beings for it to be possible for any one to actualize wholly and at once his possible intellect. The idea here would be that only a multitudo (more humans than in any single kingdom) is sufficient to provide, as it were, the background support necessary for any member of it to achieve such intellectual actualization. But, not only are the grounds for this claim not obvious; also, it does not fit with the text which talks clearly about the multitudo—not just some member or members of it—actualizing the potential intellect. 30 E. Gilson, Dante et la philosophie (Paris 1953 second edition) (Etudes de philosophic medievale 28), pp. 170 (for both quotations); cf. pp. 169-71.

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in a way which, as Gilson admits, invites an Averroistic interpretation. More seriously, it also misrepresents both Dante and Averroes. Dante says that the goal of mankind is the complete and permanent actualization of the possible intellect. Simply by existing, the possible intellect is a mere potentiality. In order to be actualized it requires, so Averroes holds, the images from the imaginations of human beings which the Active Intellect makes into intellectual intentions. The political twist Dante gives Averroes' ideas is, indeed, original (see below); but it is quite wrong to say that according to unaltered Averroism the goal of mankind as identified by Dante would be permanently fulfilled by the mere existence of the unique possible intellect. In a generally warm and respectful review of Dante et la philosophic, Nardi suggested that Gilson had underplayed the extent of Dante's Averroism, especially here in the Monarchia?1 For many, indeed, Nardi counts as a, or rather the, proponent of an Averroistic interpretation of Dante's Monarchia.32 Yet Nardi, although always alert to Averroistic influences on the poet, came to an interpretation of Monarchia I, 3—4 which explicitly avoids making Dante talk of an Averroistic unique possible intellect. Nardi put his position in an essay first published on 1921, but he did not give it up and, even in the edition of the Monarchia which he had not completely finished on his death, he remained faithful to it.33 In this essay, Nardi describes at length Averroes' views on the unique possible intellect and remarks that 'in order to establish on a rational basis the necessity of a universal monarchy, [Dante] could not allow the precious help which the Averroistic doctrine gave him to escape.'34 He then, however, imme-

31 'Dante e la Filosofia', Studi Danteschi 25 (1940), 5-42 (reprinted in Nardi, Nel mondo di Dante (Rome 1944) (Edizioni di storia e letteratura, Studi e testi 5), pp. 209-45; my page references are to the original edition) at pp. 29-31. Nardi rightly points out that Gilson has neglected the Averroistic Possible Intellect's need for the images in human imaginations from which the Active Intellect abstracts. 32 See, for example, Vinay's edition of the Monarchia, pp. 24-25 and C. Vasoli, 'Intelletto Possibile' in Encidopedia Dantesca III (Rome 1971), pp. 469-72 at pp. 471-72. 33 See B. Nardi, 'II concetto d'Impero nello svolgimento del pensiero dantesco', Giomale storico della letteratura italiana 78 (1921), 1-52 (reprinted in Id., Saggi difilosofia Dantesca (Florence 1967) (// Pensiero Filosofico 4), pp. 215-75. Nardi's edition of the Monarchia is in Dante Alighieri. Opere Minori II, ed. P. Mengaldo, B. Nardi et al. (Milan/Naples 1979) (La letteratura Italiana. Storia e testi 5, II), pp. 241-503. 34 P. 238.

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diately remarks that this doctrine was regarded as heretical in Dante's time, was explicitly rejected by Dante and that 'for [Dante], no less than for Thomas Aquinas, the possible intellect is the part of the soul which is the form of the human body, and so not unique, but multiplied and numbered according to the number of individual human beings.'35 Nonetheless, Nardi claims that 'above the multiple individual diversity there stands however the concept of the unity of the species.' On the one hand, he has in mind the unity of the human species—a theme which he would go on to develop in detail.36 Corresponding to this specific unity of the human species, Nardi also alludes to the specific unity of the possible intellect. It is this idea, although it remains in the background, on which Nardi seems to rest his solution to the interpretative problem posed by Monarchia I, 3-4. According to Dante, he says, the human species as a whole has the goal of 'actualizing always the whole potency of the intellect, considered in its nature as a species (natura specified) not in so far as it is individuated in particular human beings.'37 In his commentary on the Monarchia which appeared over half a century after the article where he had written in this way, Nardi's solution remains the same: '. . . the human intellect, which is unique, that is to say identical for all men in species (whether it is also unique numerically numerically, as the Averroists wanted to hold, is unimportant), needs a multitude of individuals spread over the earth, from which it draws the sensible images necessary for it to pass from potency to act, in order to be always and everywhere activated in its potency or capacity to understand.'38 Nardi, then, considers—or, at least, hints (and this is the only solution he suggests)—that when in the Monarchia Dante refers to the possible intellect in the singular, he has in mind the species of which the individual possible intellects are members. He can thereby make an Averroistic-sounding statement without in the least committing himself to the Averroistic view that there is numerically, as opposed to specifically, just one possible intellect. If Nardi had spelled out 35

Loc. cit. Nardi in fact attributes to Dante a positive theory about the nature of the human soul and intellect, which he mentions here and develops in detail elsewhere: see below, n. 57. 36 See 'II concetto dell'Impero', pp. 239-40 and Dal 'Convivio' alia 'Commedia', pp. 83-90. 37 'II concetto dell'Impero', pp. 239-40. 38 Edition of Monarchia, p. 298.

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this view more forthrightly than he did, perhaps he would have seen that it faces very serious objections. It is not even clear that there would be a species Possible Intellect (rather than the species Intellect). Suppose, though, that in the context of Dante's views there is such a species. There remains a general problem about attributing to species the properties of their members: men, for instance, are corporeal, but is the species Man corporeal? But, even allowing that the species Possible Intellect might have some of the properties of its members, what is certain is that it will have only those properties which any of its members must have in order to belong to it. The species Possible Intellect could not, then, have the property of being actualized, unless this property were essential to every individual possible intellect—in which case they would not be possible intellects. Even less could something which the individual members of a species happen to do—even if they were all as a matter of fact to do it, or if some of them are doing it at any given time—somehow affect the species, as seems to be supposed if Dante is looking to his universal community to actualize not a numerically unique but a specifically unique Possible Intellect. Another feature of Nardi's exegesis is his identification of a particular passage of Averroes' commentary on the De anima as being behind the line of thought Dante develops in Monarchia I, 3~4.39 Recent commentators have used this identification to suggest that, when Dante refers to Averroes' commentary here, and says that his sententia is supported by it, he is merely backing up the point he has just made, that there must be a great number of humans, rather than trying to associate his position more generally with that of Averroes.40 It is, however, difficult to see why it should be thought 39 See Nardi, 'Dal "Convivio"', pp. 85-87; edition of Monarchia, p. 300. The passage is in Commentum 5 of Averroes' commentary on Book III of De anima, ed. cit, pp. 407:605-408:621 (De Libera, pp. 76-77). See especially p. 408:609-622: '. . . immo dicens hoc [that there will always be someone who has gained the final perfection of man by being a philosopher] potest habere rationem sufficientem . . . Quoniam, cum sapientiam esse in aliquo modo proprio hominum est, sicut modos artificiorum esse in modis propriis hominum, existimatur quod impossible est ut tota habitatio fugiat a Philosophia, sicut opinandum est quod impossible est ut fugiat ab artificis naturalibus. Si enim aliqua pars eius caruerit eis, scilicet artificis, verbi gratia quarta septentrionalis terre, non carebunt eis alie quarte, quia declaratum est quod habitatio est possibilis in parte meridonali sicut in septentrionali. Forte igitur Philosophia invenitur in maiori parte subiecti in omni tempore, sicut homo invenitur ab homine et equus ab equo.' 40 See Imbach and Fliieler, ed. cit., p. 268 and Kay, ed. cit., pp. 19-20. Kay

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that Dante has this passage in mind. The point which Averroes is making is entirely different from Dante's. It concerns the eternity of the intellect, whereas Dante is discussing the multitudinousness of mankind. Averroes is arguing that, in a certain way, what he calls the 'theoretical intellect', which is the result of the possible intellect being actualized, is eternal, because (given that the human species is eternal) there will always be people somewhere in the world engaging in theoretical speculation. Dante, by contrast, is pointing out that it needs a great number of people completely to actualize the possible intellect at any given time, and that this is a reason why nature has produced not just a few, but a great number of humans. It is most plausible, then, to take Dante's reference to Averroes' commentary as a general reference to the Arab commentator's position on the possible intellect, which is what, according to an unstrained reading of the passage, he is adopting.41 Gilson, Nardi and the many other more recent commentators are not, however, wrong in claiming that in Monarchia I, 3-4 Dante is thinking for himself, rather than slavishly borrowing from his sources, and that he gives Averroes a political twist of a type which the Arab writer would hardly have anticipated or accepted. For Averroes, the only cognitive goal is one which few humans reach, and, if they do, they reach it through their own individual intellectual efforts: it consists in a state where the active intellect is joined to a particular godlike human being, who 'thinks all beings through a thought which is his own.'42 By contrast, Dante (as the contrast made in the previous paragraph indicates) is concerned with a cognitive goal which

rightly notes that there is not all that much in common between the passage from Averroes and what Dante says, but he still considers that the passage identified by Nardi is that cited by Dante, and that it is only for his view about the need for a great number of humans that Dante calls on Averroes' authority. 41 Note, however, that even if it is this passage in particular to which Dante is referring, he is thereby still implicated in an Averroistic view of the possible intellect. The passage occurs in the middle of Averroes' exposition of his distinctive views of the unique possible intellect, and it is intrinsically linked with this view, since it is urging that the theoretical intellect is also in a sense eternal—as well as the possible intellect and the active intellect. If possible intellects were numerically multiplied according to the number of individual humans, they would not be eternal and the rationale for Averroes' discussion would disappear. 42 Ed. cit., p. 500:611-13 (transl. De Libera, p. 167): 'Et cum ita sit, necesse est ut homo intelligat per intellectum sibi proprium omnia entia . . .'. For the whole discussion, see Comm. 36 of Bk. Ill (ed. cit., pp. 479-502; transl. De Libera, pp. 148-69).

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can be reached only through the efforts of a great many people, more than the number in any particular kingdom: a goal which they can reach only under conditions of peace—hence the need for universal peace, and hence, therefore, the need for a single universal emperor to ensure this peace. The goal Dante has in mind depends completely on Averroes' idea that the possible intellect is one thing numerically, but builds on this unity in a way Averroes himself had not done. Averroes is concerned, not with the extent to which the one possible intellect is actualized, but with the relation between individual humans, the possible intellect and the active intellect. Dante, however, supposes that the single possible intellect can be more or less actualized, and he is thus enabled to state a goal for mankind as a whole: the complete and permanent actualization of the possible intellect. Dante's Averroism is, then, an original philosophical position, influenced by his political views. But it does not differ from standard Averroism by giving up the idea of a single possible intellect; rather, it takes this very idea further, and in a new direction.

Dante and Averroism

In the next section, I shall answer two objections which seem to make the argument of the last section obviously unacceptable. As a prelude, however, for the benefit of those who are not Dante specialists, it is worth recalling three indications other than Monarchia I, 3—4 that Dante was favourable to Averroism. The first indication is the Convivio, a treatise where Dante puts forward an ideal of happiness attainable here on earth through philosophical speculation, and the complementary ideal of the noble soul able to lead this life. This project leads on direcdy from that undertaken by a number of the Averroist arts masters in the Paris of the 1260s and 1270s—Aubrey of Rheims in his Philosophia, Boethius of Dacia in his De summo bono and, very probably, Siger of Brabant in his lost De felicitate. Dante goes beyond both their Averroism and that of his contemporaries since he does not abstain entirely from considering man's eternal destiny, but he sticks to their line of thought since, arguably, he keeps man's two ends completely distinct: earthly philosophical happiness is to be pursued in its own terms, although it can also be seen as a preparation for a different and greater eternal happiness.

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This indication is, however, of limited value, because the Convivio was certainly an earlier work than the Commedia, and its Averroist sympathies could be accepted without attributing them to Dante's great poem.43 Moreover, Averroist sympathies need not entail acceptance of the Averroist theory of a single possible intellect: I shall in fact argue that, when he wrote the Convivio, Dante did not hold this view.44 A second indication is provided by the final part of the Monarchia itself, where Dante distinguishes, in Averroist fashion, very clearly between two ends for mankind, a natural one to be reached through philosophy, and a supernatural one through Christian teaching. I discuss this passage below. The third indication is Dante's decision to place the celebrated thirteenth-century Averroist arts master, Siger of Brabant, in Paradise, along with such esteemed thinkers and writers as Albert the Great, Isidore of Seville, Bede, Gratian, Peter the Lombard and Thomas Aquinas.45 It is Aquinas who tells the poet, in Paradiso X 'Questi onde a me ritorna il tuo riguardo, e '1 lume d'uno spirto che 'n pensieri gravi a morir li parve venir tardo: essa e la luce eterna di Sigieri, che, leggendo nel Vico delli Strami, sillogizzo invidiosi veri.' (11. 133-38) [This one, from whom your gaze comes back to me, is the light of a spirit for whom, amid his grave thoughts, death seemed slow to come. This is the eternal light of Siger who, teaching in the rue du Fouarre [where the Paris arts masters had their schools], demonstrated by syllogistic arguments unpalatable truths.]

Siger's presence here is clearly an embarrassment to all those scholars—just about every Dante scholar, that is to say—who deny that 43 It has even been argued that the last book, Book IV, shows a turning away from an Averroist position: see above, pp. 349-50. 44 See below, pp. 372-73. 45 Dante may have mentioned Siger much earlier in his career. In the Italian version of the Roman de la Rose, II More, one of the added passages is in §XCIII, where Falsembiante claims 'Mastro Sighier' as one of his victims. Many specialists attribute the Fiore to Dante, but many others contest the attribution. For an up-todate discussion, see The Fiore in Context. Dante, France, Tuscany, ed. Z. Baranski and P. Boyde (Notre Dame-London 1997) (The William and Katherine Devers Series in Dante Studies 2), especially P. Boyde's general survey, 'Summus Minimusve Poeta. Arguments for and against Attributing the Fiore to Dante' (pp. 13-46).

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the poet, whatever his youthful enthusiasms, had much sympathy for Averroism by the time he wrote the Paradiso. Scholars have sought to escape this embarrassment in a number of ways. Pierre Mandonnet, the first modern scholar to investigate Siger's life and works, proposed the simple but implausible theory that Dante did not know who Siger was.46 Fernand van Steenberghen, who has continued Mandonnet's intensive work on Siger, found a different escape route. Late in his life Siger, he said, wrote a commentary on the Liber de causis in which he abandoned completely the Averroistic view that there is only one possible intellect.47 The existence of this work, in especial, allowed Van Steenberghen to say that Siger was chosen by Dante because he was a famous arts master (and so could personify philosophy in its autonomy) who was an ally of Aquinas and Albert the Great.48 Although Van Steenberghen is very right to see that, in one way, Aquinas and Albert can be lined up with Siger as defenders of Aristotelianism, his suggestion that Dante would have perceived, and expected his audience to perceive, no opposition between Siger and the theologians is hardly credible. There are doubts about whether the commentary on the Liber de causis which supposedly shows Siger's Thomism is an integral and authentic work of his.49 In any case, when he chose to use the figure Siger, it is reasonable to think that Dante had in mind Siger's predominant reputation at the time, since that is what the mention of him would 46

Siger de Brabant et I'averroisme latin au XIIF sieck (Louvain 1911, 1908 second edition) (Les philosophes beiges 6-7), I, pp. 301-307. 47 The commentary has beed edited by A. Marlasca (Louvain-Paris 1972) (Philosophes medievaux 12). 48 Maitre Siger de Brabant (Louvain and Paris 1977) (Philosophes medievaux 21), pp. 165-76, esp. pp. 174-76. In fact, Van Steenberghen had previously tried to argue for Siger's reconversion to orthodoxy by attributing to him a different work, a set of Quaestiones de Anima. This attribution was convincingly by Gilson, op. cit., pp. 317-27. Corti (Crocevia, pp. 99—100) adopts Van Steenberghen's (later) view, though in a form which gives a little more weight to Dante's positive feelings about Averroism: 'E cosi che due grandi enti teoriche del tempo, S. Tommaso e Sigieri, non solo duellano al di sopra degli altri, ma come si addice alia loro misura si cercano, si influenzano a vicenda; se S. Tommaso libera Sigieri dal monopsichismo, Sigieri influenza profondamente col suo razionalismo la formazione di S. Tommaso' (p. 99). 49 In Dante and Medieval Latin Traditions, pp. 143-44, Dronke suggests that the commentary is an 'eclectic compilation, drawing on both Thomist and Sigerian material'. It is also worth noting that one of the two main questions on the relation between human beings and their intellect (q. 26) is mainly concerned to criticize Aquinas' view (although Van Steenberghen (Maitre Siger, p. 379) rather unconvincingly dismisses the difference as 'more verbal than real').

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evoke in the minds of his audience: as a founder and leader of the Averroists, to be honoured or castigated according to one's views.50 Gilson has a more ingenious line of reasoning, but he still has to struggle to explain away the fact that (in his view) Dante did not accept a central tenet of Siger's Averroism, his theory of the unique possible intellect. According to Gilson, each figure in Dante's hell, purgatory and heaven represents a particular vice, virtue or view, with which he was associated, and only that; other aspects of his biography and thought are irrelevant. Siger, Gilson argues, stands for the separation of philosophy and theology. Siger's definitely heretical views on the intellect do not come into consideration, he claims, for they do not belong to the symbolic figure Dante places in his Commedia.31 The line taken by Nardi, and developed by Dronke, is far more convincing. The whole point of putting Siger in heaven and making Aquinas eulogize him is that, on earth, Aquinas did see him as an adversary and attacked him. Dante is showing how, even for the greatest of teachers, in heaven a fuller magnanimity, a more complete understanding is possible than on earth.52 This view is persuasive, but even it suffers a little from seeming to be designed to explain away an awkwardness. One of the reasons, no doubt, for the presence of Siger is so as to allow for a heavenly reconciliation of discordant philosophical views; another is that, in many areas, including the theory of one possible intellect, Dante thought that Siger's approach was the right philosophical one.

M

For example, the Averroist John of Jandun (1285/9-1328) calls Siger a 'doctor of philosophy worhty of reverence'. The many opponents of Averroism see in Siger the instigator (or one of the instigators) of the movement. For instance, it is the colophon of a manuscript from the early fourteenth century which first identifies Siger as the principal target of Aquinas's De unitate intellectus ('hate scripsit Thomas contra magistrum Sigerum de Brabantia et alias plurimos Pansius in philsophia regentes. . .'), and in a catalogue drawn up in 1311 of the works of Raymond Lull, a fervent opponent of the Averroists of his day, a note suggests that Siger, along with Boethius of Dacia, were the perpetrators of the errors condemned in 1277. Research by R.-A. Gauthier ('Notes sur Siger de Brabant', Revue des sciences phllosophiques et theologiques 67 (1983), 201-32; 68 (1984), 3-49) suggests that Siger may have become more notorious posthumously as a leader of an intellectual faction than anything in his life or work warranted. But Alain de Libera has given very good grounds for believing that it was against Siger that Aquinas directed his De unitate intellectus contra Averroistas, and so Siger was a central figure in the late thirteenth-century controversy: see De Libera's ed. of the De unitate, Introduction, pp. 50-57. 51 Op. cit., pp. 256-73. 52

Nardi emphasizes the idea of reconciliation: see 'Dante e la filosofia', p. 41

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How could Dante accept the Averroist theory of the Intellect?

It is no accident that even scholars such as Nardi, who went out of their way to emphasize Dante's general sympathy towards Averroism, have turned away from the obvious reading of Monarchia I, 3-4, which makes Dante hold that there is only one possible intellect. There are two frequently made, obvious and apparently incontrovertible arguments to show that he could not have held this view. First, if there is only one possible intellect, then there is no part of the individual person's soul which survives death. Immortality of a sort is allowed by this theory, since people can become more or less conjoined with the possible and the active intellect, each of which are eternal. But it is clearly not immortality of the type envisaged by medieval Christianity, in which my and your intellective souls survive our bodily deaths and are then rewarded or punished in the after-life for our conduct while we were on earth. Dante, however, devoted his best energies to writing the Commedia Divina, a poem which is about the reward and punishment for individual humans' souls in hell, purgatory and heaven. There is, then, perhaps no other medieval writer to whom it would be more wildly implausible to attribute the Averroist view of a single possible intellect than to Dante. Second, both in his Convivio and, later, in the Purgatorio, Dante gives an explicit account of the origin of the human soul which makes it clear that each human has his own possible intellect.53 Moreover, in the Purgatorio, attached to this account is a clear-cut rejection of Averroes' view as an error. These would be unanswerable objections, were it not that Averroism involves a second-order position as well as a first-order one: not just particular doctrines, such as the theory of the single possible intel-

(where he is repeating the view he had come to 20 years before in Sigieri di Brabante nella Divina Commedia e le fonti della filosofia di Dante (published in Rivista di filosofia neoscolastica 3 (1911), 187-95, 526-45; 4 (1912), 73-90, 225-39, and also issued separately (1912)): Dante wished 'mostrarci riconciliati nel cospetto della verita eterni due grandi pensatori a lui cari, senza settarismo di scuola.' From a similar starting point, Dronke weaves a critical account of great richness and intricacy (which also points to the parallel in Canto XII, where Bonaventure sings the praises of Joachim of Fiore): see the references given in n. 4 above. 53 Convivio IV, xxi, §§4-10, esp. §5; Purgatorio XXV, 11. 37-108.

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lect, but an explanation of the status of these doctrines, which recognizes the ultimately superior claims of Christian teaching where it conflicts with them. In Monarchia I, 3^4, as part of a clearly philosophical argument, Dante writes as if there is just one possible intellect. Scrutiny of the passage suggests that this position is fundamental to the innovative political theory he is developing. From this, it seems very probable that Dante held the Averroist position on the single possible intellect as the right position within philosophical discussion. It would be quite wrong, however, to conclude that he held this position to be the right one to take in theological argument, where revealed truths are taken into account; or that he held it to be true without qualification. Dante's own version of the limited relativism used by Averroists as their second-order position is a type of procedural relativism, indicated near the end of the Monarchia (III, 15) when the respective roles of Emperor and Pope are described. Dante recognizes that philosophical teaching (which is what the Emperor should follow) leads to the right answers so far as man's natural end, as a social being on earth, is concerned. Theological teaching (the responsibility of the Pope) should not be used to guide people to their natural end, but just in order to guide them to their supernatural end. In a philosophical argument of the sort found throughout Monarchia I, Dante should be expected to use in earnest the positions which, in philosophical terms, he thought convincing, and it should be taken as a mark of his Averroism, not as a counter-indication to it, that in theological contexts, and where the absolute truth is concerned, he should sometimes reject these very positions and take up ones incompatible with them. The second objection can be answered in the same way. In Purgatorio XXV, where the Averroist doctrine of a single possible intellect is explicitly rejected, the speaker is Statius, a secret convert (on Dante's account) to Christianity, who has taken over as Dante's guide at the point where Virgil, the representative of purely natural reason, is no longer capable of leading the poet. Statius' account is, no doubt, what Dante would have accepted as the final truth of the matter, reached within a context of revelation. It is perfectly compatible with Dante's holding that the Averroist solution is the correct philosophical position to take. There is, however, one difficulty about this solution. Besides rejecting Averroes' single possible intellect, Statius gives a detailed account

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of the origins of the human soul which, as might be expected, involves each human being having his own possible intellect.04 In the Convivio, there is a similar account, which takes the same position about the multiplication of possible intellects.55 But in the Convivio this account is described as having been reached through natural reasoning (specifically, through following the 'opinion of Aristotle and the Peripatetics'); a different, though not at all incompatible theological account is appended.56 A closer look at the two discussions suggests the following explanation. At the time he wrote the Convivio, Dante was already strongly influenced by the aspirations of the Averroist arts masters, but he had not yet thought closely about Averroes' view on the possible intellect. He was willing to accept as a correct philosophical account the one which he provides here per via naturals and which, as Nardi has shown, is drawn mainly from Albert the Great.37 On this view, the foetus grows through the capacity naturally within the sperm (it

54 Purgatorio XXV, 11. 68—74: '. . . si tosto come al feto/ 1'articular del cerebro e perfetto,/ lo motor primo a lui si volge lieto/ sovra tant'arte di natura, e spira/ spirito novo, di vertu repleto,/che cio che trova attivo quivi, tira/ in sua sustanzia, e fassi un'alma sola,/che vive e sente e se in se rigira.' The context makes it clear that the spirito novo here is the possible intellect. 55 IV, xxi §5: 'La quale P'anima in vita], incontanente produtta, riceve dalla vertu del motore del cielo lo intelletto possibile . . .' 56 Convivio IV, 21, §§10-11: 'E quasi questo e tutto cio che per via naturale dicere si puote. Per via teologica si puo dire che . . .'; cf. ibid., §3: '. . . non secondo quelle procedere si conviene, ma secondo 1'oppinione d'Aristotile e delli Peripatetici.' 57 See 'L'Origine dell'anima umana secondo Dante', Giornale critco delta jilosofia italiana 12 (1931), 433-56 and 13 (1932), 45-56; 81-102 (reprinted in Id., Studi di jilosqfia medievale (Rome 1960), pp. 9-68). Nardi's analysis here of the medieval debate on the origin of the soul, and his study of Dante's place in it, are among his outstanding contributions to scholarship. But there are some aspects of the article I would wish to query:—(1) As is evident from his own analysis, there is more difference between the discussions in the Convivio and the Purgatorio than Nardi allows; (2) Nardi reads the Neoplatonic elements found in the passage from the Convivio into the Purgatorio discussion (see p. 57 of reprint), although they are noticeably absent from it; (3) Nardi (pp. 58—68 of reprint) believes that there is closeness between Dante's views (in both passages) and a theory Siger supposedly devised in a second phase of his thought, as witnessed by his De anima intellectiva. Whether Siger really proposes a new theory in De anima intellectiva or merely gives a more careful exposition of Averroes' position needs careful investigation. At any rate, there is really not much in common between this theory, which explains the type of individuation which remains for human thinking given that there is only one possible intellect, and Dante's position (really his position in the Convivio), which explores the role of the divine light in illuminating many, numerically different possible intellects.

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has a vegetative soul), and then develops powers of sensation and movement (the vegetative soul becomes an animal soul); but then, through the direct intervention of God, the first mover, it receives a possible intellect and becomes a human being (the animal soul becomes a human, intellective soul). The possible intellect, Dante goes on to say, 'has potentially within itself all the universal forms, according to how they are in what produces it.'58 At this stage in the development of his thought (before 1307), then, Dante seems to hold as the Aristotelian position, and that which natural reasoning reaches, that we do each have an individual potential intellect (a position which, then, does not contradict the theological one, although it uses rather different terms). But his view of how this intellect thinks stresses what comes from outside, through the Intelligences and ultimately from the first mover. Here Dante is reflecting, not Averroes, but the whole tradition of Arab thought about the intellect prior to Averroes, in which Aristotle was filtered through a Neoplatonic outlook. A few years later, by the time Dante was coming near to the end of writing the Purgatorio (completed 1315), his position has developed. He has moved, in this area at least, away from the Neoplatonizing approach to a more authentic Aristotelianism.59 One aspect of this move is, not surprisingly, to have thought carefully about the interpretation of Aristotle offered by Averroes, who claimed to offer an authentic reading. In the discussion in the Convivio, Averroes was not mentioned. Now Dante acknowledges the power of his interpretation as a philosophical account. Statius refers to it in the most respectful terms: — . . . quest' e tal punto, che piu savio di te fe' gia errante, si che per sua dottrina fe' disgiunto da 1'anima il possibile intelletto, perche da lui non vide organo assunto. (62-6) [. . . this is such a point that once it led someone wiser than you into error, so that, according to his teaching, the possible intellect is not

18 Convivio IV, 21, §5: '. . . lo quale potenzialmente in se adduce tutte le forme universal!, secondo che sono ne suo produttore, e tanto meno quanto piu dilungato dalla prima Intelligenza e.' 59 There is no parallel in the Purgatorio passage to the comment from the Convivio quoted in the preceding note.

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joined to the soul, because he did not see any organ which was taken up for use by it.] Averroes' doctrine is, of course erroneous, in the context of theology and the ultimate truth. But it is the teaching, as Statius says, of someone wiser than Dante; and the reason given for why Averroes came to his unusual conclusion (perche da lui non vide organo assunto) accurately reflects his reasoning and is not at all easy to answer. The explanation which follows does not attempt to solve Averroes' problem, but merely to find the best way of fitting the solution required by Christian doctrine with the scientific evidence. It recapitulates the main lines of the discussion in the Convivio, with more physiological detail and purged of the Neoplatonic elements. And no longer does Dante claim that it follows natural reasoning. Rather, Dante now— or, at least, a few years later when he came to write the Monarchia— takes the Averroistic view as that which is correct in the context of philosophy. To summarize. Dante never questioned that, in fact, every human being has his own possible intellect. For much of his life, he considered that this truth was accessible to natural reason and, in the Convivio, he proposed an elaborate theory which involved and supported it. But—as Monarchia I, 3-4 shows very clearly, and Purgatorio XXV also indicates—by his final years he had ceased to think that the true position about the possible intellect was that which natural reason would reach (although he still thought that his earlier theory could be used to give a coherent account). In line with the procedural relativism advocated at the end of the work, near to the beginning of the Monarchia Dante used the Averroist view of a single possible intellect as the basis for developing his political theory. Dante can, therefore, be called an Averroist. But he was an Averroist of a special sort. For most of its adherents, Averroism was a way of being an arts master without bothering about the data of revelation, of doing one's own work and leaving it to the theologians to do theirs. Dante was not an arts master, and revelation was central to most of his thinking and most of his poetry. My (deliberately provocative) title does, then, need some qualification.

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

Walter Berschin's major works are on Greek in the Latin Middle Ages and biography and period style. He is Professor Ordinarius of Medieval and Neo-Latin Philology at Heidelberg where, in 1988, he was the organiser of the first International Conference of Medieval Latin. Charles Burnett, FBA, Professor of the History of Arabic/Islamic Influence in Europe in the Middle Ages at the Warburg Institute, University of London, did his doctoral thesis on Hermann of Carinthia at Cambridge under the supervision of Peter Dronke, and has since devoted his attention to the translation of Arabic texts into Latin and their impact on Western European intellectual culture. Mary Garrison studied at Harvard and at Cambridge where she completed a doctorate on Alcuin. She has held research scholarships at Christ's College Cambridge and at the University of Utrecht and taught at Bates College. She is currently a lecturer in the Department of History at the University of York. Stephen Gersh is Professor of Medieval Studies at the University of Notre Dame. His books include From lamblichus to Eriugena (1978), Middle Platonism and Neoplatonism (1986), and Concord in Discourse (1996). Michael W. Herren, F.R.S.C., is Distinguished Research Professor (Classics and Humanities) at York University Toronto and Adjunct Professor in Medieval Studies at the University of Toronto. He has published widely on the Latin literature of the British Isles. Currently he is editor of The Journal of Medieval Latin. Edouard Jeauneau is a directeur de recherche honoraire at the Centre national de la recherche scientifique, Paris and a Fellow emeritus of the Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, Toronto. His present major project is the Corpus Christianorum edition of Eriugena's Periphyseon, of which volumes I-III have already been published.

376

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

Claudio Leonard! is Professor of Medieval Latin Literature at the University of Florence and President of the Societa Internazionale per lo Studio del Medioevo Latino (S.I.S.M.E.L.) of Florence. Paolo Lucentini is Professor of the History of Medieval Philosophy at the Istituto Universitario Orientale in Naples. His work has been on the Platonic tradition and the medieval tradition of Hermes Trismegistus, and he is editor of Hermes Latinus (Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio mediaevalis 141-48). David Luscombe is Leverhulme Personal Research Professor of Medieval History in the University of Sheffield and a Fellow of the British Academy. Jill Mann is Notre Dame Professor of English at the University of Notre Dame. She taught for thirty years in the University of Cambridge and is a Life Fellow of Girton College. John Marenbon is Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. His research interests lie in the history of medieval philosophy. His most recent books have been The philosophy of Peter Abelard (1997) and (as editor) The Routledge History of Philosophy III. Medieval Philosophy (1998). Barbara Newman is Professor of English and Religion at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, and has published widely on Hildegard von Bingen and other medieval women writers. Giovanni Orlandi is Professor of Medieval Latin at the State University of Milan. He has worked especially on the medieval literature of voyages and, more recently, he has edited a twelfth-century Latin elegiac comedy and written on the theory of textual criticism. Paul Gerhard Schmidt (born 1937) read Classics and Medieval Latin at Berlin and Gottingen, Latin Paleography at the Scuola Vaticana di Paleografia. Since 1989 he is professor for Medieval Latin in Freiburg University. He was Visiting Professor in Oxford, Florence, Fribourg, Tartu and Paris. His publications include:

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

377

Supplemente lateinischer Prosa in der Neuzeit (1964), Johannes de Hauvilla, Architrenius (1974), Visio Thurkilli (1978), Otloh, Liber Visionum (1989), Vita des Thomas Becket (1991), Vita der Margareta contracta (1992), Karolellus (1996), Visio Alberici (1997). J. B. Trapp has spent most of his academic life as successively Assistant Librarian, Librarian, Director and Honorary Fellow of the Warburg Institute, University of London. Konrad (as author Benedikt Konrad) Vollmann held the chair of Medieval Latin at the Catholic University of Eichstatt from 1989 to 1993, and from 1993 until retirement in 1999 the chair of Medieval Latin at Munich University. The main fields of research comprise medieval Latin lyric and epic, encyclopaedic literature and, recently, Latin literature of the 15th century. Marina Warner's No Go the Bogeyman: On Scaring, Lulling and Making Mock, won the Katherine Briggs Award and the Rose Mary Crawshay Prize. The Leto Bundle, her fifth novel, will be published in June 2001. Haijo Westra teaches Latin and Greek at the University of Calgary, publishing in the areas of late and medieval Latin literary criticism and, most recently, on neo-Latin texts relating to the Americas. Jan Ziolkowski (Harvard University) writes on Medieval Latin literary history and philology. He has published with Brill books on medieval obscenity and on poetry by Nigel of Canterbury.

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INDICES (I) INDEX OF NAMES AND PLACES at-Tughra'i 52 n. 97 c Abd al-Wahid ibn Ishaq ad-Dabbi 43 Abelard see Peter Abelard Achilles 163 Adam 6, 38 n. 38 Adam of St. Victor 331 Addison, J. 190, 190 n. 40 Adelard of Bath 35, 37-39, 49, 51; De eodem et diverso 37 Aelius Aristides 283 Aelius Donatus 85 n. 17; De comedia 299 Aelred of Rievaulx, Speculum caritatis 252 n. 6 Aix-la-Chapelle 116 Ajax 163 Alan of Lille, Regulae caelestis iuris 139; Sermo de sphaera intelligibili 139 n. 27, 140 nn. 28, 29, 141 Alcuin 63-78; Epistolae 75 n. 57, 78 n. 67 Alexander of Hales 137; Summa Theokgiae 147, 147 n. 57 al-Farabi 32 n. 14, 34, 50, 52 n. 97, 135, 351, 352; Enumeration of the Sciences 32 n. 13, 52 al-Fazari 43 n. 59 al-Ghazzali 52 n. 97; Tahdjut al-falasifah 351 al-Khalfl 52 n. 95 al-Khwarizmi 37; Indian Arithmetic 42 al-Kindi (pseudo) 36 n. 28 al-Muctamid 36, 36 nn. 27, 30, 57, 58, 59 al-Mutanabbi 30, 53 al-Qablsf, Introduction to astrology 43 Alan of Lille 3, 8, 10, 14, 15, 16, 133, 137 n. 23, 139 nn. 26, 27, 141, 140 nn. 28, 29, 146 n. 51, 192, 302n. 32, 322; De arte praedicatoria 174; De planctu Naturae 322 Albareda, S. 20 n. 9 Albert the Great 8, 137, 147, 150, 239 n. 54, 349, 367, 368, 372 Alcuin 63-78, 102 n. 16, 105, 110, 125, 180 n. 15, 256

Alexander of Villa Dei, Carmen de Algorismo 42 Alexander Nequam 137 Alexandria 274 Alfonso X, king of Castile and Leon 43 Altichiero 223 Ambrogio Traversari 199 Ambrose 15, 102, 156, 160, 233 Amiclas 162 an-Nabigha 30, 52 n. 95 Anchises 92, 170 Andrea Alpago of Belluno 46 Angelo di Zenobi Gaddi 223 Angelo of Arezzo 35 Anne, St. 263, 275 Anne of Brittany 248 Anselm of Canterbury 31, 95 n. 48, 166, 343 n. 2; Monologion 79, 87, 87 n. 26 Antoine, Bastard of Burgundy 240 Anubis 276 Aphrodite 275 Apollo 90, 173, 263, 266 Apollodorus, The Library 271 apostles 169, 171 Apuleius 8, 283; De doctrina Platonis 80 Aquinas see Thomas Aquinas Arabia 35 n. 24, 49, 50, 53 Arachne 264, 266 n. 8, 267, 272,273 Archpoet 286; Estuans intrinsecus 31 n. 8 Argonauts 149 'Arib ibn Sa'd al-Katib 61 Aristotle 30, 32 n. 13, 233 n. 42, 281, 291 n. 20, 299 n. 17, 300, 351-359, 372, 373; Categories 89; De anima 355; Poetics 30, 32, 32 n. 13, 291 n. 20, 299, 299 n. 17; Rhetoric 291 n. 20; pseudo-Aristotle 135 and see Poetria Aristotelis Armengaud of Blaise 46, 52 Arno, Archbishop of Salzburg 125 Attavante degli Attavanti 229 Aubrey of Rheims 366 Auerbach, E. 286, 296, 296, n. 8

380

INDEX OF NAMES AND PLACES

Augsburg 19, 20 nn. 4, 5, nn. 7-10, 198 n. 3, 219, 249 Augustine 3, 8, 10, 64 n. 4, 74 nn. 51, 52, 75 n. 57, 76, 79, 83, 84 n. 14, 85, 86 n. 19, n. 22, 87, 88, 91 n. 34, 117, 117 n. 15, 118 n. 16, 121, 125 n. 40, 133, 160, 165, 181, 198 n. 3, 210, 210 n. 44, 211, 213, 213 n. 52, 234, 252, 253 n. 9, 283, 284, 287, 299, 304 n. 40, 306, 320, 321; Confessions 198; De civitate dei 151 n. 75, 152, 159, 170 n. 87; De diversis quaestionibus Ixxxiii 85; De doctrina Christiana 160 n. 22, 306 n. 46; De magistro 79, 83, 89; De musica 299; Dialectica 89 n. 28, 90 Augustinus von Ancona (Triumphus) 197 Averroes 32, 45, 46 nn. 76, 47, 49 n. 88, 51 n. 93, 52 n. 97, 53, 55, 350, 351, 352 n. 7; 353 n. 9, 356 n. 15, 358, 359, 361, 362, 364 n. 39, 365 nn. 40, 41, 366, 370, 371, 372 n. 57, 373, 374; Commentary on Cantica 46 n. 77; Fasl al-maqdl 352; Great Commentary on Aristotle's De Anima 356, 356 nn. 15-18, 357, 357 n. 19; Middle Commentary on Aristotle's Poetics 30; Tahdfut al-tahafut 351, 352 Avicebron 132 Avicenna 32, 45, 45 n. 72, 46 n. 74, 52, 52 n. 98 97, 132, 135; Canon of Medicine 46 n. 74; De Anima 32 n. 13; Urjuzafi t-tibb 45, 52 Azzo da Correggio 217, 248 Bacchus 92, 266, 315 Bacon, Roger 174 Bartholomaeus Anglicus 147 n. 57, 236 Bartolomeo della Gatta 227 Baudri of Bourgeuil 288, 288 n. 15 Baugulf, Abbot of Fulda 73 Baeumker, C. 131 n. 2, 133 Bar-field, O. 187 n. 31 Barrow, J. 156 n. 3, 157, n. 9 Beatrice 148, 181 n. 18 Bede 24 n. 18, 31 n. 11, 94 n. 45, 300, 367; De schematis et tropis sacrae scripturae 31 n. 11 Benson, R. 31 n. 11

Benton, J. F. 3, 156 n. 3, 157, 158 n. 12 Benvenuto de' Rambaldi di Imola 151, 152 Berenson, B. 270, 270 n. 21 Bernard of Chartres 302, 307 Bernard of Clairvaux 31,148,158, 165 n. 54, 197, 344; Samones Bernard 194 n. 46, 201 n. 10, 207 n. 36 Bernard Silvestris 3, 10, 12, 92 n. 38, 93 n. 42, 44, 44 n. 66, 79, 189, 189 n. 36, 192, 273, 274, 298, 298 n. 15, 303 n. 37, 314 n. 8, 314, 315 n. 9, 317; Commentary on Aeneid I-VI (attrib.) 298, 314; Commentary on Martianus Capella 79, 90, 92, 93, 314 n. 8; Cosmographia 3, 10, 11, 15, 189, 192, 272, 273 n. 28, 317 n. 14, 322 Bernhard of Waging 197, 198 n. 3, 200, 200 nn. 6, 7 Berthold of Moosburg 136, 137, 147 Bianciotto, G. 292 n. 21 Bible 69 n. 26, 95 n. 48, 105, 115 n. 10, 159, 168, 228, 327, 336 Bildestone, N. 223 Bindschedler, M. 144 n. 43 Bishop, T. 113 Blamires, A. 180 n. 15 Blois 241 n. 59, 243 Boccaccio, G. 151, 181, 220, 241, 245; De mulieribus claris 182 n. 20; De casibus virorum illustrium 241; Genealogiae deorum gentilium 260 Boccardino il Vecchio 229 Bodenham, C. 31 n. 8, 49 n. 88 Boethius 14, 16, 79-81, 87 n. 24, 89 n. 28, 29, 97, 133, 134, 138 n. 25, 146 n. 51, 159, 160, 187, 191, 193, 220 n. 7, 241, 252 n. 4, 260 n. 43, 353, 354 n. 13, 366, 369 n. 50; De arithmetica 138 n. 25; De consolatione Philosophiae 3, 9, 15, 74 n. 52, 159, 169 n. 83, 188, 188 n. 35, 252 n. 2, 218, 219 n. 6, 239 n. 54, 251; De differentiis topicis 168 n. 78; De divisione 88; De musica 9; Opuscula Sacra 87, 96, 134 Boggess, W. 30 nn. 5, 6, 30, 31 n. 10, 47, 55 Bologna 13, 45 n. 71, 151, 221, 353 Bonaventure 137, 150, 197, 205 n. 31, 207 n. 37

INDEX OF NAMES AND PLACES Bond, G. 288, 288 n. 15 Boniface 66 Bond, G. 288 n. 15 Bos, C. 270, 277 Bosch, Hieronymus 276 Bracciolini, Poggio 223 Braun, P. 20 n. 5 Brixen 199, 200, 200 n. 4 Burnett, C. 16, 29 n. 1, 35 n. 22, 37 n. 31, 39 n. 39, 42 n. 55, 43 n. 62, 44 nn. 66, 67, 49 n. 8, 51 n. 93, 156 n. 3, 157 n. 9, 158 n. 13, 159 n. 21, 160 n. 22, 161 nn. 28, 29 Buytaert, E. 164 n. 47 Bynum C. 287 n. 14 Caelius Sedulius 161 n. 25 Caesar 164 n. 47, 166 Caetani, G. 152 nn. 76, 78 Calcidius 80, 86, 298; Translation of and Commentary on Plato's Timaeus 80, 86, 86 n. 20, 297 n. 10, 298 n. 14 Calendar of Cordoba 41, 61 Callisto 267, 273 Cambrai 234

Cambridge 1-4, 7 n. 1, 12-17, 33 n. 16, 37, 60, 64 n. 6, 65 n. 12, 67 n. 21, 74 n. 52, 79, 101, 156 n. 4, 168 n. 74, 185 n. 26, 188 n. 35, 190 n. 41, 219, 236 n. 49, 243 n. 64, 275, 282 n. 2, 283 n. 5, 285 n. 9, 301 n. 31, 305 n. 45, 316 n. 11, 350, 356 n. 15, 360 Cantica virginis Eulaliae 329 Carmina Burana 3, 29 n. 3, 155 n. 3, 330 n. 17 Carmina Cantabrigiensia 259 Cassiano del Pozzo 278 Cassiodorus 229 Castor 263, 267, 268, 270, 271 Cato 162, 163, 164 n. 46, 167 n. 72, 169 Catullus 157-8 Charbonnier, E. 292 n. 21 Charlemagne 64 nn. 3, 8, 65 n. 12, 66 n. 14, 101, 116, 290 Charles the Bald 116 Charles V, King of France 232, 233 n. 42, 236 n. 50 Charles de Valois 241 Chatillon, F. 163, 163 n. 44 Chaucer 9, 10, 178, 183, 330 n. 17 Chenu, M.-D. 97 n. 53, 340 n. 58

381

Chiron 272 Christine de Pizan 175, 178 n. 10, 180, n. 15, 181 n. 18, 186; Epistre d'Othea 181 n. 19; Lavision Christine 187, 188, 188 nn. 33, 34; Le livre de la cite des Dames 178, n. 10, 179, 179, nn. 12, 13, 14, 10, 180 n. 16, 17, 181, 181 n. 19, 182, 183, 184; Le livre du chemin de long estude 184, 184 n. 24 Christopher, St. 275-76 Cicero 40 n. 43, 64 n. 4, 75 n. 57, 80, 86 n. 22, 91, 158, 159, 160, 299 n. 19, 300, 301 n. 29, 317; Academica 80; Brutus 300; De natura deorum 313 n. 5, 316, 316 n. 11, 320 n. 20; De oratore 305; Epistula ad familiares 283 n. 6; Orator 246 n. 68, 300; Tusculanae disputationes 80 Claude 248 Clytemnestra 263 n. 3, 267, 268, 271 Coleridge, Biographia Literaria 284 n. 8 College de Navarre 235 Colonna, Francesco, Hypnerotomachia Poliphili 263 nn. 1-3, 264, 264 nn. 4, 5, 266, 267, 268, 269, 278 n. 40, 279 n. 42 Compiegne 116 Congaudentes exsultemus 331, 331 n. 22 Constable, G. 31 n. 11, 156 n. 3 Constantine the African 42 Contreni, J. 126 n. 42 Corbizzi, Littifredi 229 n. 33 Cordoba 41, 41 n. 53, 45, 61 Cornelia 167 Correggio, Danae 278; Ganymede 278; lo 278; Leda and the Swan 269, 278, 278 nn. 38-40, 279 n. 41 Corti, Maria 349, 349 n. 3, 350 n. 5, 368 n. 48 Cousin, V. 156 n. 6 Coypel, A. 278 Cracow 353 Crocker, R. 330 n. 19, 331 n. 20 Cupid 264, 278 Curtius, E. 63 n. 2, 253 nn. 9, 11, 284 n. 8, 292, 293 n. 1, 295, 298 n. 12, 299 n. 20, 302 n. 34, 303 n. 38 Cusanus see Nicholas of Cusa Cynthia 157 Cyprian 160

382

INDEX OF NAMES AND PLACES

D'Alverny, M.-T. 9, 40 nn. 43, 46, 46 n. 75, 132 n. 6, 133, 135 n. 12, 139 n. 27, Daedalus 163 Dalembert 286 n. 13 D'Amboise, Cardinal Georges 243, 248 Danae 264, 269, 273 Dante Alighieri 1, 350 nn. 4, 5, 351, 352, 357-374; Commedia Diuina 8, 12, 14, 147, 148, 152 n. 80, 153, 184, 350, 367, 368, 371-74; Convivio 16, 188 n. 34, 349 nn. 1, 3, 350 n. 5, 363 n. 36, 364 n. 39, 366, 367, 370 n. 53, 372 nn. 56, 57, 373 n. 58, 37; De vulgari ekquentia 301 n. 31; Monarchia 3~4, 349 n. 1 350, 350 n. 6, 352, 357, 359, 359 n. 24, 360, 361, 362, 362 nn. 32, 33, 363, 363 n. 38, 364, 364 n. 39, 365, 366, 367, 371 374; Vita Mova 15, 189 n. 38 Daphne 266, 273 Daudin, Jean 218, 233 De Gruthuyse, L. 237 De Libera, A. 143 n. 39, 356 n. 15, 352 n. 7, 369 n. 50 De projundis exclamantes 331 Deleuze, G. 282 n. 3 Delia 157 Denifle, H. 131 n. 1 De Rijk, L. 166 n. 63 Derrida, J. 81, 282 n. 3 Dhu'r-Rumma 30 Diderot, Encyclopedic 286 n. 13 Dina 341 Dinzelbacher, P. 184, 185 nn. 25 27 Diomedes 299 Dionysius the Areopagite, Pseudo10, 133, 146 n. 51, 147, 160, 165, 197, 199, 200; On Divine Names (trsl. John Scottus Eriugena) 86 Dionysius of Halicarnassus, On Imitation 300 Disticha Catonis 164 Dominicus Gundissalinus 34, 34 n. 21, 97 Dominicus, monk of the monastery of St. Procolo in Bologna 45 Dominus caeli rex et conditor 329 Dreves, T. 329 n. 8, 335 n. 30, 336 n. 35, n. 37, 337, 338 n. 46, 341 n. 59, n. 61 Dronke, P. See Index (II)

Dutton, P. 47 n. 81, 113 n. 4, 114 n. 6, 115 n. 9 East, W. 163 n. 43 Ecbasis cuisudam capitivi 259 Eckhart, Meister 131, 136-138, 143 n. 39, 144 n. 45, 145 nn. 47-49, 146, 147; Granum sinapis (attrib.) 131, 138, 143, 143 n. 41, 144, 144 n. 43, 146 Egbert of Liege, Fecunda Ratis 291 n. 19 Egeria 286 n. 12, 287 Einhard 64 nn. 3, 4, 290 Elisabeth, St. 171 Emery, G. 150 n. 69 Empedocles 146 n. 54 Engels, L. 160 n. 22, 161 n. 26, 170 n. 87 Epistula de quadam visione cuiusdam virginis 197-215 Epitaphium Megingoz 69 Erfurt 353 Ernst, E. 156 n. 5, 253, 284 n. 8, 293, 295 Erpenius, T. 53 n. 100 Etienne Tempier 353 Eugene, Prince of Savoy 237 Euripides, Helen 271 Everard of Bethune, Laborintus 31 n. 10, 37 Fahd, T. 44 Faucher, Guillaume 52 n. 98 Faucher, Jean 52 nn. 98, 99 Fausto Andrelini of Forlil 224 Federico da Montefeltro 226, 227, 227 nn. 23, 26, 228 Fez 52 Ficino, Marsiglio 152 n. 79, 153, 276 Flaubert, Gustave 186 Florence 2, 11, 14, 17, 217 n. 1, 349, 221 n. 11, 222 n. 14, 223 n. 16, 225, 226 n. 21, 227 n. 22, 228 n. 29, 229 n. 31, 230 n. 34, 231 nn. 35, 36, 294 n. 3, 303, 232 n. 39, 337 n. 42, 349, 349 n. 2, 359 n. 24, 362 n. 33 Fliieler, C. 359 n. 24, n. 26, 364 n. 40 Foucault, M. 282 n. 3, 283 France 2, 65, 218 n. 4, 219, 222 n. 12, 232, 233, 234, 236, 243, 248, 367

INDEX OF NAMES AND PLACES

Francois de Grenaille 219 Frank, M. 282 n. 3 Freud, S. 193 Fulbert, bishop of Chartres 42, 42 n. 57 Fulda, Annals of 68, 68 n. 23, 71, 72, 72 n. 44, 73, 73 n. 49, 77 n. 63 Fulgentius 315, 315 n. 10, 316, 317 Galatea 164 Galdericus of Cluny, Principium Gyrum celi 139, 140, 141 n. 31; Galmes de Fuentes 47 n. 81, 48 n. 82 Gardenal, G. 338 n. 43 Gauthier, R.-A. 369 n. 67 Gerard, G. 98 Gentile of Cingoli 353 Geoffrey of Leves 165 Geoffrey of Vinsauf, Poetria nova 10, 307 Gerard of Cremona 33, 34, 41, 46 n. 74, 61 n. 114; Liber Anoe 61, 61 n. 116 Geyer, B. 169 n. 82 Gilbert of Poitiers 132-34,192 Gilles of Corbeil 42 Gilson, E. 17, 132, 286 n. 13, 349 n. 2 361 n. 30, 361, 362 n. 31, 365, 368 n. 48, 369 Gioacchino da Fiore, 150 Giovanni da San Miniato 218, 231 Glossarium Salomonis 239 n. 54 Gonzaga, Federico 278 Gratian 367 Gregory the Great 10, 69, 160, 197, 235 n. 48; Dialogi 69; Homelia in Evangelia 213 n. 54; Moralia in lob 208 n. 39 Gregory VII, Pope 344 Guibert of Nogent 287 Guido Vernani 359 n. 26 Guillaume Chretien, Abbot of Marchiennes 233 Guillaume de Lorris 138, 141 n. 32, 194; and see Roman de la Rose Hades 267 Hameel, Alart 276 Harran 132 Hatto 72 n. 44, 73, 77 Hebet sidus 155 n. 3 Hecate 266

383

Heidegger, M. 81 Helen 166, 263, 267, 268, 270, 271, 271 n. 23 Heloise 3, 11-13, 15, 155 n. 2, 156 n. 3, 157 n. 11, 161 nn. 25, 28, 162 n. 31, 163 nn. 35, 8, 164 n. 45, 165 n. 52, 166, 167 n. 73, 168 n. 75, 170 n. 87, 171 n. 95, 327 n. 93, 340 Henry Aristippus 80 Henry of Herford 136 Henry of Langenstein 197, 198, 212 nn. 45-47, 214 n. 56 Hermann of Carinthia 38 Hermann the German 30, 31 n. 8, 32, 35, 50 n. 91, 47, 49, 51, 55, 300 Hermes Trismegistus 14, 35 n. 24, 44, 131, 134, 136, 152, 152 n. 75, 151 n. 74, 153, 165 Hermes, E. 66 n. 112 Herrad of Hohenbourg, Hortus deliciarum 235 n. 48, 255 n. 18 Herren, M. 80 n. 1, 99, 104 n. 25, 100 n. 9, 111 n. 55, 112 n. 56 Hilary of Poitiers 156 Hildegard of Bingen 2 4 , 7 10, 12, 13, 15-17, 26, 192, 343-48 Himmelfarb, G. 282 n. 3 Hjelmslev 89, 90 n. 30 Homer 251, 253, 267 nn. 12-14, 298; Iliad 269; Odyssey 267, 267 nn. 12-14, 269 Honey, L. 286 n. 12 Horace 105, 162, 165, 166 n. 63, 168, 169 n. 79, 283, 299 n. 15 Horologium Sapientiae 175, 183 n. 22 Housman, A.E. 337 n. 42 Hrabanus Maurus 63, 64, 64 nn. 4, 7, 67-75, 101, 105, 256 n. 25; Ad Bonosum 68, 70, 73, 74 n. 54; Liber sanctae Crucis 70 Hudry, F. 131 n. 2, 132, 133 n. 7, 135 Huesca 35, 35 n. 24 Hugh of Balma 197, 205 Hugh of St. Victor 79, 97 nn. 50, 51, 146 n. 51, 194 n. 46, 197; De unione corporis et spiritui 97; Didascalicon 97 Hugh of Santalla 29 n. 1 Hugues de Comminellis of Mezieres 228 Humfrey, Duke of Gloucester 224

384

INDEX OF NAMES AND PLACES

Hurley, R. 283 n. 4 Huygens, R. 158 n. 12 Hyginus 271 n. 24, 272 n. 26 Ibn Abr r-Rijal 43; Urjuza fi dalil ar-racd 43 Ibn al-Banna 61 n. 115 Ibn Gabirol, Solomon see Avicebron Ibn Rushd see Averroes Ibn Sina see Avicenna Ibn Umayl 44, 45 n. 70 Ibn Zuhayr 30, 52 Icarus 163 Imbach, R. 359 nn. 24, 26, 364 n. 40 Imru'u '1-Qays 30, 31, 32 n. 12 Integumenta Ovidii 313 n. 5 Isidore of Seville 23, 24 n. 20, 94, 102, 159 n. 18, 367; Etymologiae 24 n. 20, 35 n. 21, 79, 90, 91, 91 n. 35, 103, 163 n. 39, 167 n. 72, 253, 257 n. 34, 258, 258 n. 36; Sententiae 159 n. 18 Italy 2, 39 n. 40, 47, 48, 66, 103, 104, 110, 112, 218-220, 227, 248, 246 n. 68, 315, 353 luvenal 161-163, 163 n. 41; Saturae 164 Jacques d'Armagnac 237, 240 Jacques de Besangon 240 n. 57 Jean de Meun 11, 141 n. 32, 141, 142, 220 n. 7, 309, 317, 320, 321; see also Roman de la Rose Jeauneau, E. 15, 79, 80, 113 n. 4, 114 nn. 5 7 , 115 n. 9, 116 n. 12, 170 n. 86, 313, 314

Jephtha

1, 10, 56 n. 8, 328 n. 4,

n. 6, 329, 333, 335 n. 33, 338

Jerome

73, 94, 159, 160, 161 n. 28,

164 nn. 49, 50, 165 nn. 54, 55, 166, 197, 210 n. 62, 171 n. 93;

Adversus Jovinianum 166 n. 62, 170; n. 87; De exodo 164 n. 50; Epistolae 72 n. 43, 171; Quaestiones hebraicae in Genesim 165 n. 54 Joachimsohn, P. 20 n. 7 Job 76, 155, 235 n. 48 John the Deacon, De cena Cypriani 256 n. 24, 259 n. 38 John of Garland 313 John of Jandun 369 n. 50 John of Ripa 137 John of Salisbury 97, 300 n. 25, 302, 307

John Scottus Eriugena, Commentary on Martianus Cappella 90; Periphyseon 3, 11, 13, 15, 17, 79, 81 n. 2, 86, 87 nn. 23, 25, n. 48, 90 n. 32, 93 n. 44, 94 n. 45, 95 n. 46, 113-129, 146 n. 51, 272, 273 n. 28, 274 John of Seville 43 John the Baptist 263, 275 Jolivet,J. 155, 272, 273 n. 28 Jones, E. 303 n. 37, 314 Jones J. 303 n. 37, 314 Julian the Apostate 163 n. 38, 285 Jung, C. 193 Jupiter 267-68, 271, 271 n. 23, 272-73, 316 Kaczynski, B. 291 n. 19 Kahil, L. 271 n. 25, 274, 274 n. 30 Kay, R. 350, 359 n. 24, n. 26, 364 n. 40 Kemp, M. 270, 270 n. 22, 272 n. 27, 273 Kerby-Fulton, K. 185 n. 26 Kitab al-Bdrf 43, 43 n. 63 Klibansky, R. 165 n. 54 Konsgen, E. 68 Koran 352 Kristeller, P. 152 n. 79 Lactantius, Divinae institutiones 170 n. 87 Ladner, G. 155 n. 3 Landgraf, A. 161 n. 24 Landino, Cristoforo 153 n. 81 Languedoc 38 Lanham, C. 156 n. 3 Laon 113 n. 1, 126 n. 42, 127 Latzke, T. 156 n. 3 Laudes crucis 331 Laudes crucis attollamus 331 n. 20 Laurent de Premierfait 241 Laurie, H. 166 n. 65 Law, V. 64 n. 5 Layla al-Akhyaliyya 30, 41, 61 Leclercq, J. 140 n. 30, 141 n. 31, 194 n. 46 Leda 263-79 Legenda Aurea 276 n. 33 Leiden 10, 11, 15, 30 n. 4, 32 n. 13, 36 n. 27, 39 n. 41, 41 n. 49, 42 n. 57, 44 nn. 66, 69, 53, 61, 79, 85 n. 18, 89 n. 29, 90 n. 31, 109, 170 n. 86, 191 n. 43, 292, 297

INDEX OF NAMES AND PLACES n. 10, 298, 298 n. 14, 313 n. 6, 317 Leo III, Pope 116 Leo X, Pope 52, 231 Leo Africanus 51, 52 n. 95, 53, 53 n. 101; Description of Africa 53 n. 101; De viris quibusdam illustribus apud Arabes 52 Leonardo da Vinci 269, 270, 270 n. 22, 272, 272 n. 27, 273-275, 278, 279; The Virgin and Child with Saint Anne and John the Baptist 275 Liber XXIV Philosophorum 133 Liber de causis 368 Liber de signification cometarum 41, 62 Liber regius 61 Libro de las Graces 43, 43 n. 64, 44 Linant de Bellefonds 274, 274

n. 30 Lindisfarne 67, 67 n. 20, 68, 70-72, 74, 76-78, 78 n. 6 Lopez de Mendoza, Inigo, Marquess of Santillana 232 Louis XI, King of France 230, 237 Louis XII, King of France 237, 241, 243, 243 n. 65, 247, 248 Louis XV 278 Louise de Savoie 241 Louvre (Paris) 276 n. 32 Lucan, Pharsalia 72 n. 43, 162, 162 n. 33, 163, 163 nn. 36, 37, 39, 164-68, 232 Lucentini, P. 131, 134 n. 10, 135 nn. 12, 13, 136 nn. 19, 20, 137 nn. 22, 23, 138 n. 24, 146 n. 52, n. 54, 147 nn. 56, 57, 149 n. 62, 150 nn. 69, 70 Luke 166 n. 67, 179 Luscombe, D. 155, 156 n. 3, 157 n. 9, 162 n. 35 Lyotard, J. 282 n. 3 Maaz, W. 291 n. 19 Macrobius, Commentary on Somnium Scipionis 79, 80, 86, 86 n. 21, 91, 92, 92 n. 36, 169, 317, 319; Saturnalia 79, 90, 90 n. 31, 298 n. 13, 318, 319, 319 n. 17, 320 n. 20 Mahnke, D. 132, 132 n. 4 Mainz 68, 68 n. 23, 69 Maitre de Jean Rolin 240 Mandonnet, P. 368 Manetti, Giannozzo 225

385

Manetti, Angelo di Giannozzo 225 Mann, J. 10, 309, 222 nn. 12, 14, 223 nn. 15-17, 224 n. 18, 225 n. 19, 226 n. 20, 228 n. 29, 230 n. 34, 231 nn. 35-37, 232 n. 40, 233 n. 43, 234 nn. 44, 45, 235 nn. 46, 47, 236 n. 49, 237 nn. 51-53, 239 n. 55, 240 n. 56, 241 n. 61, 242 n. 63, 292 n. 21 Mantua 278 Manutius, Aldus 263 Marcus Aurelius 283 Marenbon, J. 1, 7, 64 n. 6, 95 n. 48, 156 n. 4, 165 n. 55, 349 Mark of Toledo 40 n. 43, 166 n. 67 Margherita Porete 13, 137 Markschies, C. 282 n. 2 Martianus Capella, De nuptiis Mercurii et Philologiae 8, 10, 11, 15, 79, 80, 86, 86 n. 22, 92, 191, 315 n. 9 Martin, St. 71 Mary, Blessed Virgin 156, 179, 181

n. 18, 182, 191, 263, 274, 275 Mary Magdalen 171 Marz, C. 330 n. 15 Massena, V, Prince d'Essling 219 n. 5, 222, 222 n. 13, 237 n. 51, 241 n. 61, 242 n. 63 Maximus the Confessor 120 n. 21, 146 n. 51 Master of Frankfurt 275 Master of the Trivulziana Pharsalia 232 Matteo Contugi da Volterra 227 Matthew of Vendome 302 McGinn, B. 186, 186 n. 30 McKeon, R. 161 n. 25, 296, 296 nn. 6, 9, 297 McLaughlin, T. 162 n. 31 Medici 227, 227 n. 23, 229, 230-232, 248, 270 Meir Abulafia 36, 57 Meisterlin, S. 19 n. 3 Melun 166 Mercury 24, 25, 38, 277, 278 Metamorphosis Goliae episcopi 157 Mews, C. 158 n. 13, 164 n. 47 Meyer, W. 66 n. 15, 156 n. 8, 332, 332 n. 24, 333 n. 26, 326 n. 25, 327, 327 nn. 1, 2, 329, 334, 334 nn. 28-29, 335 n. 31, 336-339, 340 n. 51, 341 n. 59, 336 n. 39, 337 n. 42, 338 n. 47 Meynell, H. 285 n. 11 Michael, St. 243

386

INDEX OF NAMES AND PLACES

Michael Scotus 137, 146 n. 56, 147, 356 n. 15 Michelangelo 269, 269 n. 19, 270, 274, 277-279 Milan 102, 103, 179 n. 12, 192 n. 44, 217, 217 n. 1, 221, 222, 224, 224 n. 18, 231 n. 37, 43, 278 n. 38, 349, 362 n. 33 Milton, John 195 Minerva 181, 181 n. 19, 266, 267 Mini, A. 278 Minio-Paluello, L. 30 nn. 5, 7, 31 nn. 8, 9, 50 n. 90, 161 n. 25 Misch, G. 281 n. 1, 283 Monfrin, J. 155 n. 2, 161 n. 28, 341 n. 60 Morris, C. 287 n. 14 Moscus 277 Muckle, J. 155 n. 2, 161 n. 25, 162 n. 31, 163 nn. 35, 38, 164 nn. 45, 49, 165 n. 52, 168 n. 75, 170 n. 87, 171 n. 93, n. 95 Miintz, E. 219 n. 5, 222, 222 n. 13, 237 n. 51, 241 n. 61, 242 n. 63 Munich 2, 11, 42 n. 55, 60, 65 n. 10, 65 n. 12, 72 n. 42, 73 n. 4, 99 n. 3, 126, 271 n. 25 288, 289, 328 n. 4 Nardi, B. 1, 349, 349 n. 2, 361 National Gallery, London 269 National Gallery, Prague 275 Nebuchadnezzar 164, 202 Neptune 266 Niccoli, Niccolo 223, 224 Nicholas of Cusa 81, 136-138, 150, 199, 197, 200, 200 nn. 4, 5 Nicolaus (Le Sourd) of Langres 233 Nicholas Oresme 233 Nicholas Triveth 136 Niebuhr, H. 190, 191 n. 42 Notker of St. Gall 63, 64, 64 nn. 3, 9, 65 n. 12, 256 n. 24 Odo of Tournai 25 n. 24 Odysseus 264, 267 Olson, L. 286 n. 12 Origen 94, 160 Orlandi, G. 165 n. 55, 327 Ovid 157, 159, 161, 162, 164, 166, 168, 168 nn. 7-78, 256, 266 nn. 8, 9, 267 nn. 10, 11, 288, 313; Amores 159 n. 21, 162 n. 31; Ars amatoria 162 n. 31, 168 n. 78 Heroides 166;

Metamorphoses 162 n. 30, 163 n. 40, n. 42, 164, 168 n. 77, 264, 266, 266 nn. 7, 9; Remedia amoris 166 n. 66 Padua 222 nn. 12, 15, 223, 223 n. 17, 227 n. 24, 353; Sola virorum illustrium 221 Palestine 160 Pandora 272, 273 n. 29 Paraclete, Monastery of the 156, 157, 327, 341, 342; Paraclete Breviary 157 nn. 9-10 Paris 11, 30 n. 5, 33 n. 18, 44 n. 65, 45 n. 72, 46 n. 75, 67 n. 20, 79, 80, 85 n. 17, 98 n. 54, 102, 103, 113 nn. 1, 3, 125 n. 37, 128 n. 47, 135 nn. 12, 13, 139 n. 27, 143, 150 n. 69, 52, 155 n. 2, 156 n. 6, 174, 219, 222-224, 226, 228, 233, 233 nn. 16, 42, 234, 234 n. 44, 235 n. 46, 236 n. 49, 237, 237 nn. 51-53, 239 n. 55, 240 n. 57, 241 n. 59, 242 n. 63, 246 n. 68, 253 n. 9, 254 nn. 14, 15, 255, 257 n. 35, 258, 269, 276 n. 32, 277, 278, 283 n. 4, 284 n. 7, 292 n. 21, 302 n. 33, 309, 325 n. 23, 340 n. 58, 341 nn. 60, 61, 343, 352, 353, 54, 361 n. 30, 366, 367, 368, 368 n. 48 Parma 217, 353 Passio beatae Catherinae virginis n. 35

257

Pavia 103, 217, 224 Paxson, J. 190, 190 n. 41 Pellegrin, E. 13, 157, 222 n. 12, 223 nn. 16, 17, nn. 43-45, 235 nn. 46, 47, 226 n. 20, 237 nn. 51, 52, 239 n. 55, 241 n. 61, 242 n. 63 Pepin, J. 320 n. 20 Perler, D. 359 Perry, T. 36 nn. 26, 27, 57, 57 n. 104 Persius 164 Peter Abelard 10, 12, 31, 155-71; Carmen ad Astralabium 37, 156, 156 n. 4, 161 n. 27, 63, 169; Collationes 162, 162 n. 33, 165 n. 55; Commentary on Romans 159, 162, 168; Dialectica, 166 n. 63; Epistulae 161 nn. 25, 28, 162 n. 31, n. 35, 163 n. 38, 164, 164 nn. 45, 49, 165 nn. 52, 54-56, 58, 166 nn. 61, 62, 168 nn. 74, 75, 169

INDEX OF NAMES AND PLACES

nn. 79, 80, 170 n. 87, 171 nn. 93, 95; Glossulae (Logica 'Nostrorum Petitioni Sociorum') 169 n. 82; Historia calamitatum 3, 155 n. 2, 157 n. 11, 161 nn. 27, 28, 162 n. 30, 163 n. 42, 164 n. 4, 165 n. 54, 166 n. 66, n. 68, 167 n. 73, n. 69, 341 n. 60; Planctus 156, 156 n. 8, 157, 157 n. 11, 324-44; Problemata Heloissae 12, 166 n. 64; Regula (Ep. VIII) 168 n. 77; Scito Teipsum 162, 162 n. 35, 164 n. 48; Sermones 163, 166 n. 62, 167 n. 72; Sic et non 161 n. 25, 168 n. 78, 171 n. 93; Theologia Christiana 158 n. 13, 159 nn. 14-20, 161 nn. 23, 25, 162 n. 31, 163 n. 35, n. 51, 165 n. 53, 168 n. 77, 169 nn. 79, 80, n. 84, 170 nn. 87, 90, 171 n. 91, nn. 93, 94; Theologia Scholarium 165, 170, 158, 158 n. 13, 161 n. 25; Theologia 'Summi boni' 164, 164 n. 47 Peter Alfonsi 29, 35, 35 n. 22, 36 n. 25, 36, 36 n. 28, 37, 39, 51; Disciplina ckricalis 35 nn. 23, 24, 37 n. 32, 55-60 Peter of Blois 3, 331; De confessione sacramenti 252 n. 7 Peter the Lombard 66, 174, 222, 367; Sententiae 137 Peter the Venerable 31, 31 n. 11 Peters, U. 185, 185 n. 27 Petrarch, Francesco 29, 31, 32, 47, 48, 49, 49 n. 88, 50, 51, 51 n. 93, 151, 217-249, 294; De remediis utriusque 217-249; De viris illustribus 223, 232 De vita solitaria 226; Epistolae familiares 236 n. 50; Epistolae seniles 249 n. 89; Secretum 226 n. 21, 229 Philip II, King of Spain 278 Philo (pseudo-) Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum 328 Philomela 273 Philyra 272 Pichore, Jean 241, 243 Piehler, P. 187 n. 33, 190, 190 n. 39 Piemontese, A. 48 n. 83 Piero, son of Lorenzo de'Medici, il Magnifico 229 Piero di Cosimo 230 Piero di Domenico Boninsegni 231 Pietro da Pavia 224

387

Pisano, Constantino 14 n. 31 Plange planctu nimio 157 Plato 9, 80, 82 n. 4, 83, 134, 141, 141 n. 34, 142, 142 n. 36, 148, 251, 253, 254, 258, 260 n. 46, 351; Cratylus 79-83, 90, 98; Meno 80; Phaedo 80; Republic 91, 251, 251 nn. 1, 2, 253 nn. 8, 10, 12, 254 n. 13, 297, 297 n. 9, 298, 377-8 320; Timaeus 79, 80, 86, 88, 91, 92, 141, 141 n. 34 297 n. 10, 298, 298 nn. 14, 15, 299 Plotinus 148; Enneads 281 Poetria Anstotelis 30, 30 n. 7, 31 n. 8, 31 n. 9, 32, 49, 50, 50 n. 90, 55 Polia 269 Poliphilo 264, 267, 268, 269, 279 Pollux 263 n. 3, 268, 270, 271 Poly deuces 267 Pompeius 84 n. 15, 85 n. 17 Pompey 166, 167, 168 Poseidon 267 Prado 278 Priscian, Institutiones Grammaticae 83, 84 n. 15, 85, 85 n. 17 Proclus 80, 82 n. 4, 146 n. 51, 147; commentary on Parmenides 80 Propertius 157 Prudentius 156, 191, 192, 194, 286 n. 11; Peristephanon 285 Qays al-Majnun b. cAmir 30 Quilligan, M. 178 n. 11, 323, 325 Quincey 162 Quintilian, Institutio oratoria 299, 299 n. 18, 301 n. 27, 304, 305; Quodvultdeus, Adversus quinque haereses 170 n. 87; Sermones 170 n. 87 Qur'an 39, 40, 40 nn. 43, 44, 48 n. 85 Rabf ibn Zayd al-Usquf 61 Raby, F. 65, n. 10, 156, 156 n. 7 Raoul Lepretre, archdeacon of Hainault 234 Ramon Llull 40, 51, 369 n. 50; Eh cent noms de Deu 40 n. 46; Liber de fine 40 n. 44 Rand, E. 26, 79, 128, 188 n. 35 Ratgar, Abbot of Tours 72 n. 44, 73, 73 n. 49, 77, 78 Ratramnus of Corbie 125 n. 37 Raulet, G. 282 n. 3

388

INDEX OF NAMES AND PLAGES

Registrum Gregorii Papae 254 n. 16 Regno, Regnavi, Sum sine regno, Regnabo 220 n. 8, 233 Rex caeli 329 Rhetorica ad Herennium 89, 159, 300, 304, 307, 307 n. 49 Ringler, S. 185, 185 n. 27 Ripoll Collection 155 n. 3 Risalat ash-shams ild l-hilal 44 Robert Grosseteste, Le Chateau d'Amour 174, 174 n. 3, 181, 194, 195; De decem mandatis 174 Robert of Ketton 40 n. 43 Roddewig, M. 152 n. 76 Roman de la Rose 11, 131, 138, 141, 141 nn. 32-35, 142 nn. 36, 37, 143, 143 n. 38, 177, 194, 309, 309 nn. 2, 3, 313 n. 4, 317, 323, 323 n. 22, 325, 326, 367 n. 45 Rome 1, 2, 7, 8, 13, 43 n. 63, 52 n. 95, 57 n. 105, 72, 79, 112, 157 n. 11, 161 n. 25, 167 n. 72, 170 n. 86, 189 n. 37, 194 n. 46, 263 n. 1, 272, 297, 328 n. 6, 349 n. 3, 350 n. 4, 362 nn. 31, 32 Rouen 241, 243 Rubielos Master 274 Rubingh-Bosscher, J.-M. 37 n. 31, 156 n. 4, 161 n. 27, 163 Ruck, K. 335 n. 31 Rudolph II, of Prague 278 Ruh, K. 65 n. 10, 77 n. 61, 143 n. 39, 144 n. 45, 145 nn. 47-49, 200 n. 6, 162 n. 31, 163 n. 37, 165 n. 56, 167 n. 72 Ruodlieb 3, 288, 288 n. 16, 289, 290 Saint-Denis, monastery of 116 St Ulrich, monastery of 198 n. 3 St Ulrich and Afra, monastery of 19, 19 nn. 1, 2, 20 nn. 4, 5, Salerno, School of 42 Salutati 151 Salvat, M. 292 n. 21 Samson 328, 338-340, 340 nn. 53, 57 Sancte Paule pastor bone 329 Saturn 79, 90 n. 31, 266, 272, 309, 312, 313, 313 nn. 4, 5, 314, 315, 316, 317, 317 n. 13, 318-320, 321, 322, 323 Saussure, F. 89 n. 30 Schaller, D. 68 Scheindlin, R. 36 n. 27, 51 n. 94, 58, 59, 59 n. 108

Schirmann, H. 36 n. 27 Schouwink, W. 292 n. 21 Semele 264, 269 Seneca 218 Serpin, Jean 243 Seville 36 n. 29, Sezgin, F. 43, 43 nn. 60, 63, 44 n. 69 Shaw, P. 350 n. 6, 359, 359 n. 23 Sheldon-Williams, I.-P. 79, 113 Sichem 341 Sicily 48, 48 n. 83, 166 Sidonius 161 n. 25 Siger of Brabant 3, 8, 11, 14, 16, 349, 352 n. 9, 353, 354, 366-68; Commentary on Aristotle's De Anima III 353, 354 De Anima Intellectiva 353 n. 11, 372 n. 57 Sinibaldus C. 228, 232 Smits, E. 165 n. 55 Socrates 82, 168 Sodoma 272 Soissons, Council of 165 Solomon 155, 176, 338, 340 Sonnenburg, Nunnery of 199, 200, 200 n. 4 Spanke, H. 329 n. 10, nn. 13, 14, 330 n. 17 Spariosu, M. 285 n. 10 Spatz, N. 140 n. 30 Stagel, E. 175, 175 n. 4 Statius 165, 299 n. 15, 371, 373, 374; Thebaid 165 n. 53 Steiner (engraver) 219 Stock, B. 80 ft. 2, 282 n. 3, 283 n. 5, 317 n. 14 Suesskind, P. 292 n. 21 Suso, Heinrich 175, 175 n. 4, 176, 176 n. 5, 177, 178, 182, 183; Buchlein der Ewigen Weisheit 175, 183 n. 21 Szoverfty, J. 157 n. 9 Taddeo of Parma 353 Taylor, B. 29 n. 1, 35 n. 24, 37 n. 31 Taylor, C. 282 n. 2 Tegernsee 198 n. 3, 200, 288-290 Terence 315, 316 n. 10; Andria 164 n. 50; Eunuchus 163, 164 n. 44 Tereus 273 Thersites 163 Thierry of Chartres 80, 96 n. 49, 134, 307; commentary on Boethius De trinitate 96

INDEX OF NAMES AND PLAGES

Third Vatican Mythographer 317 Thomas Aquinas 16, 174, 209 n. 43, 286, 349, 354, 355, 363, 367-369; De Unitate Intellects 354, 354 n. 12; 369 n. 50; Summa Theologiae 260 Thomas Beckett 344 Thomas Bradwardine 136-138 Thomas of York, Sapientiale 134 Thomas of Wales 146 n. 51 Thomas, R. 12, 155 n. 1, 162 n. 31 Thorndike, L. 41 n. 55, 45 n. 71, 62 Tibullus 157, 158 Toledo 30, 34, 36 n. 28, 40 n. 43, 106 n. 33 Tours 64 n. 8, 71, 72 n. 44, 254 Tyndareus 267, 271 Tyro 267 Ullmann, W. 287 n. 141 Uodalscalc of St. Ulrich and Afra 19-27 Urbino 227 n. 23 Urjuza ft cilm as-fana 44 Urjuzaji l-hudud 42 Vajda, G. 40 n. 43 Valerius Maximus 151 Van Dyke, C. 187 n. 32, 192, 193 n. 45 Van Eyck, Jan 276 n. 32 Van Koningsveld P. 36 n. 28 Van Reyen, W. 282 n. 3 Van Steenberghen, F. 352 n. 9, 368 Varro 64 n. 4, 320, 320 n. 20, 321 Venice 46 n. 76, 49 n. 89, 221, 221 n. 11, 227 n. 23, 263 Venus 8, 25, 25 n. 22, 259, 269, 270, 272, 275, 278, 279, 309, 313, 313 n. 4, 314, 314 n. 9, 315, 318, 318 n. 16, 319, 323 Verena of Stuben, Abbess of Sonnenburg 199, 200 Vergerio, Pierpaolo, Life of Petrarch 223 Vespasiano da Bisticci 226, 227, 227 n. 26 Vienna 16, 67, 79, 237 n. 53, 239, 240, 241 Vinay, G. 359 n. 24, n. 26, 362 n. 32 Virgil 16, 105, 109, 110, 148, 151, 161, 162, 164 n. 49, 148, 151, 169,

389

170, 170 n. 87, 171, 220 n. 8, 253-56, 290, 299 n. 15, 298, 298 n. 15, 304 n. 39, 306, 314; Aeneid 13, 161 n. 29, 162 n. 32, 170, 303; Eclogae 164 n. 49, 170 n. 87, 171 nn. 93-94; Georgica 75 n. 57, 169 n. 81, 171 n. 92 Vollmann, B. 251, 257 n. 32, 288, 288 n. 17, 289 Von den Steinen, W. 156 n. 8, 327, 328 n. 4, 334 n. 27 Von Humboldt, Wilhelm 281, 281 n. 1 Von Moos, P. 72 n. 42, 158 n. 12, 162 n. 33, 163 n. 39, 166, 167, 167 nn. 71, 72, 168 n. 76 Waddell, C. 157 nn. 9, 10 Walahfrid Strabo 68-69, 256 n. 21, nn. 24-27, 257 n. 32 Walburg, St., nunnery of 200 Waltharius 3, 259, 290 Weinrich, L. 156 Westra, H. 15, 79, 281, 285 n. 11, 286, 286 n. 12, 288 n. 16, 290 n. 18, 291 n. 19, 315 n. 9 Wetherbee, W. 14, 158 n. 12 William of Auxerre 137 William of Champeaux 163 William of Conches 8, 10, 11, 13, 134, 192, 314, 325; Commentary on Macrobius 92, 92 n. 41, 317 Commentary on Plato Timaeus 88, 92, 92 nn. 37, 40 Williams, G. 285 n. 9 Willjung, H. 116 n. 11, 125 n. 41 Wind, E. 276, 269, 269 n. 17, 277 n. 34 Wittwer, W. 20, 20 n. 9 Worstbrock, F. 157 n. 11, 261 n. 47 Yeats, William Butler 268, 268 n. 16, 274, 275, 275 n. 31 Young, Edward, Conjectures upon Original Composition 284 n. 8 Tsagoge in theologiam 161 n. 24 Ysengrimus 291, 292, 292 n. 21 Zeuxis 246 Zink, M. 284, 284 n. 7 Zissos, A. 288 n. 16 Zumthor, P. 287 n. 14

(II) PETER DRONKE AND HIS WRITINGS [References are not given to individual items in the Catalogue of Dronke's writings on poetry and philosophy in the Middle Ages] Abelard and Heloise in Medieval 157 n. 11, 158 n. 12

Testimonies

History of Twelfth Century Western Philosophy 27, 316 n. 12

Dante and Medieval Latin Traditions 350 n. 4, 368 n. 49 Dante's Second Love. The Originality and the Contexts of the Convivio 350 Dido's Lament: from Medieval Latin Lyric to Chaucer 330 Dronke, Peter 1-17, 29, 63, 113, 114,157 n. 10, 156 n. 8, 166, 170, 189, 268, 272, 288, 293, 309, 313, 317, 320, 325, 327, 335, 343 n. 1, 349, 350, 368 n. 49, 370 n. 52; annotated catalogue of his writings on poetry and philosophy 7-17

Intellectuals and Poets 157 nn. 7, 9, 170 nn. 86, 89, 171 n. 91, 189 n. 36, 328 n. 6, 330 n. 17 Introduction to Hypnerotomachia Poliphili 263, 263 n. 1, 264 n. 6, 279 n. 42, Introduction to Bruno Nardi's letters to Etienne Gilson 349 n. 2

'Eriugena's Earthly Paradise' n. 28

Poetic Individuality in the Middle Ages 63, 63 n. 1, 156 n. 8, 288 n. 16, 292 n. 22, 293, 328 n. 5, 338 n. 46, 339 n. 48, 340 n. 52

273

Fabula 44 n. 66, 90, 91, 170 n. 86, 188, 191, 196, 272 n. 26, 313, 317 n. 15, 318, 318 n. 16, 319 n. 18, 320 n. 19, 325

'Medieval Poetry—I: Abelard' 328 n. 3 'Orizzonte che rischiari. Notes towards the Interpretation of Paradiso1 11, 350

'The Lament of Jephtha's Daughter' 328 n. 6, 335 nn. 31, 32

(Ill) INDEX OF MANUSCRIPTS Aix-en-Provence, Bibliotheque Mejanes Res. 52: 239 n. 55 Algiers, National Library 1753: 46 n. 77 Augsburg, Archiv des Bistums 78: 19, 20 Augsburg, Staats- und Stadtbibliothek 4° 218: 20 nn. 9, 10 Bamberg, Staatsbibliothek, Ms. Phil. 2,1: 114-29 Boston Public Library, MS 1488: 38 Cambridge, Emmanuel College 38: 60 Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum 27: 236 n. 49 Cambrai, Bibliotheque Municipale B+239 (229): 234 n. 45 Chaumont, Bibliotheque Municipale 31: 157 Douai, Bibliotheque Municipale 694: 233 n. 43 Dresden, Staatsbibliothek Oc. 54: 240 n. 56 Florence, Biblioteca MediceaLaurenziana, Strozzi 90: 222 n. 14 Florence, Biblioteca MediceaLaurenziana XXVI sin 5: 223 n. 16 Florence, Biblioteca MediceaLaurenziana LIII. 4: 227 n. 22 Florence, Biblioteca MediceaLaurenziana LXXVIII.1-4: 227 n. 22 Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Pal. V. Capponi 31: 232 n. 39 Florence, Biblioteca Riccardiana 1020: 231, 231 n. 35, 36 Laon, Bibliotheque Municipale: 55 London, British Library, Harley 3579: 222 n. 15

Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional Res. 212: 232 n. 40 Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional Res. 214: 232 n. 41 Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional Vit. 2-1: 227 n. 24 Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana A. 138 inf.: 231 n. 37 Milan, Biblioteca NazionaleBraidense AD XIII 30: 222 n. 12, 224 n. 18 Montecassino, Archivio dell'Abbazia 189: 220 n. 8 Montpellier, Bibliotheque de la Faculte de Medecine H 265: 235 n. 47 Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Clm 518: 60 Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek Clm 4403: 197 Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek Clm 10268: 146 n. 56 Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek Clm 15180: 197 Oxford, 37 n. Oxford, 43 n.

Bodleian Library, Auct. F. 1.9: 33 Bodleian Library, Marsh 663: 61

Palermo, Biblioteca communale, 4°Qq. 10: 45 n. 71 Paris, Bibliotheque de 1'Arsenal 2860: 237 n. 52 Paris, Bibliotheque Mazarine 3882: 234 n. 44 Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale fr. 225: 242 n. 63 Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale fr. 593: 237 n. 51 Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale lat. 6069F: 222 n. 12, 223, 223 n. 5 Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale lat. 6069T: 222 n. 12, 224 n. 18 Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale lat. 6286: 135 n. 12 Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale lat. 6496: 222 n. 12

392

INDEX OF MANUSCRIPTS

Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale lat. 6725: 226 n. 20 Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale lat. 9335: 33 n. 18 Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale lat. 10209: 223 n. 17 Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale, lat. 15888: 135 n. 13 Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale lat. 17165: 235 n. 46 Reims, Bibliotheque municipale 875: 114-29 Rome, Fondazione Camillo Caetani, s.n.: 152 n. 76

St. Petersburg, M. S. Saltykov-Scedrin Public Library, Lat Fv XV, No. 1: 220 Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica, lat. 4301: 135 n. 11 Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica, Pal. lat. 1596: 225 n. 19 Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica, Urb. Lat. 330 334: 226 n. 21 Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica, Urb. lat. 334: 228 n. 29 Venice, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana lat. VI (2593): 221 n. 11 Vienna, Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek 2559: 237

MITTELAATEINISCHE STUDIEN UND TEXTE 1. Metellus von Tegernsee. Die "Quirinalien". Untersuchungen und Text 1965. Jacobsen (Ed.). 2. Pseudo-Ovidius. De vetula. Untersuchungen und Text. Klopsch (Ed.). 1967. ISBN 90 04 01464 0 3. Lange. Philologische Studien zur Latinitdt west-hispanischer Privaturkunden des 9.-12. Jahrhunderts. Langosch (Ed.). 1966. ISBN 90 04 01465 9 4. Joseph Iscanus. Werke und Briefe. Gompf (Ed.). 1970. ISBN 90 04 01466 7 5. Numen litterarum: the Old and New in Latin Poetry. Witke (Ed.). 1971. 6. Theobald. Physiologus. Edited with introduction, critical apparatus, translation and commentary by P.T. Eden. 1972. ISBN 90 04 03444 7 7. Geoffrey of Vitry. The commentary of Geoffrey of Vitiy on Claudian De Raptu Proserpinae. Transcribed by A.K. Clarke and P.M. Giles with an introduction and notes by A.K. Clarke. 1973. ISBN 90 04 03674 1 8. Konsgen, E. Epistolae duorum amantium. Briefe Abaelards und Heloi'ses? Edition und Untersuchungen. 1974. ISBN 90 04 03875 2 9. Dronke, P. Fabula. Explorations into the uses of myth in medieval Platonism. Reprint 1985. ISBN 90 04 07715 4 10. Jacobsen, P.C. Flodoard von Reims. Sein Leben und seine Dichtung De Triumphis Christi. 1978. ISBN 90 04 05407 3 11. Langosch, K. Donisii Comedia Pamphile. Untersuchungen und Text. 1979. ISBN 90 04 06007 3 12. Mann, J. Tsengrimus. Text with translations, commentary and introduction. 1987. ISBN 90 04 08103 8 13. Petrus Presbyter. Carmina. Text und Kommentar. Herausgegeben von M. Rener. 1988. ISBN 90 04 08797 4 14. Nigel of Canterbury. The Passion of St. Lawrence, Epigrams and Marginal Poems. Edited and translated by J. M. Ziolkowski. ISBN 90 04 08865 2 15. Orban, A.P. Novus Phisiologus. Nach Hs. Darmstadt 2780. 1989. ISBN 90 04 08894 6 16. Hilarius Aurelianensis. Versus et Ludi epistolae. Ludus Danielis Belouacensis. [Die Egerton Handschrift]. Bemerkungen zur Musik des Daniel-Spiels von Beauvais von M. Bielitz. 1989. ISBN 90 04 09070 3 17. Unterkircher, F. (Ed.). Hugo von Luttich: Peregrinarius. 1991. ISBN 90 04 09325 7 18. Hugo von Macon. Die Gesta Militum. Ein bisher unbekanntes Werk der Erzahlliteratur des Hochmittelalters. Herausgegeben von E. Konsgen. 1990. ISBN 90 04 09201 3 19. Harting-Correa, A. Walahfrid Strabo's Libellus de Exordiis et Incrementis. 1996. ISBN 90 04 09669 8. 20. Westra, HJ. (Ed.). The Berlin Commentary on Martianus Capella's De Nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii. Book I. With the Assistance of C. Vester. 1994. ISBN 90 04 10170 5 21. Mann, N. & B. Munk Olsen (Eds.). Medieval and Renaissance Scholarship. Proceedings of the Second European Science Foundation Workshop on the Classical Tradition in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance (London, Warburg Institute, 27-28 November 1992). 1997. ISBN 90 04 10508 5 22. Haye, T. Das lateinische Lehrgedicht im Mittelalter. Analyse einer Gattung. 1997. ISBN 90 04 10668 5 23. Westra, H.J. & T. Kupke (Eds.). The Berlin Commentary on Martianus Capella's De Nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii. Book II. With the Assistance of B. Garstad. 1998. ISBN 90 04 10968 4

24. Rickiin, T. Der Traum der Philosophic im 12. Jahrhundert. Traum zwischen Constantinus Africanus und Aristoteles. 1999. ISBN 90 04 111166 25. Stein, E. Clericus in Specula. Studien zur lateinischen Verssatire des 12. und 13. Jahrhunderts und Erstedition des "Speculum prelatorum". 1999. ISBN 90 04 11329 0 26. Meckelnborg, C. und B. Schneider. Opusculum fabularum. Die Fabelsammlung der Berliner Handschrift Theol. lat. fol. 142. 1999. ISBN 90 04 11333 9 27. Haye, T. Oratio. Mittelalterliche Redekunst in lateinischer Sprache. 1999. ISBN 90 04 11335 5 28. Murgatroyd, P. The Amatory Elegies of Johannes Secundus. 2000. ISBN 90 04 11603 6 29. Marenbon, P.G. (Ed.) Poetry and Philosophy in the Middle Ages. A Festschrift for Peter Dronke. 2001. ISBN 90 04 11964 7